prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You're a cab driver that drives souls to a memory of their choosing before delivering them to the City of the Dead. | He was a stout man, 5 foot three with a head of thinning silver hair. From the neck up he looked his age-- 93, or so said my instructions. But, he still filled out his forest-green Army coat and stood ready beside his dented mailbox.
I eased the car over the dips in the dirt road and stopped. I rolled down my window.
“Excuse me,” I said. He snapped from his dreamy gaze. “Is this 5 Ranch Place?” I asked.
“Sure is.”
“Are you Quincy Brownell?”
He nodded and spit into the tuft of grass swallowing the mailbox post. “Sure am. I ‘spose you’re here to pick me up.”
I pushed my glasses up the ridge of my nose. “Ahyah. How’d you know?”
Quincy shrugged. “Just had a feeling this morning.” He approached the car and started to open the passenger's door. “You don’t mind, do ya?”
I shook my head. “No, no. Whatever’s good with me.”
Quincy lowered himself gingerly into the seat, keeping his back straight as possible. He closed the door and reached across himself for the buckle and stopped to hammer against his chest. “Bah, god. Been having some terrible heartburn today. Sorry.”
I shifted into drive and let the car roll, feeling out the potholes. The sun was a furnace melting the distant horizon. I felt sweat running down the length of my back and looked over to Quincy.
“You want me to put the air on? You must be sweating bullets in that get up.” I said.
“No,” Quincy said. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to keep the window down. Air feels good. Y’know it’s funny, but I don’t think I’ll be coming back here. Just like I had a feeling that someone would be coming for me today. And here you are.”
Quincy watched his house shrink in the sideview mirror and dabbed at his eyes. “Am I, er, am I moved on?” He asked turning his attention to the road.
“Dead?” I said, flipping on the blinker to turn onto the main road. “Sorry. But, uh, yeah.”
“Oh.”
Quincy and I rode in silence for a stretch of miles, letting the country fall away behind us.
“Where are you taking me?” He said, nearly wincing. “Hell?”
I recoiled. “Hell? No, no Quincy. I’m here to take you to the afterlife.” I said. “I used to be called the Ferryman. But, as you may well see, there ain’t a drop of water for miles around. So I drive this. But before we get there, you get to pick one memory to revisit.”
Quincy’s blinked vacantly. “Memory?”
“Yup. Like a child's birth. A wedding. We realize that most people need a bit of pickmeup when they find out, uh, well y’know that they’ve moved on. So we let them relive a memory before we bring them across the river. Figuratively speaking of course.”
Quincy nodded and rubbed the front of his green Army-issued pants. His breath grew ragged and he took his cover off to crush in his hand. “June 5, 1944.” He said. Tears ran down Quincy’s wrinkled face as he turned to me. “I want to see my boys again.”
I looked back to the road and rolled up the power windows with my door controls. “You sure?”
“You're damn right I am. Take me.”
I put on my blinker to pull off at the next exit. “You’re the boss. Looks like I’ll need to get the old boat out again.”
| I'd had a long day, about 15 fares so far and it was barely past four. What with all of the chaos going on in the world, death was rampant. I was one of the few drivers who could work weekends so I often had to work for long stretches at a time. Truthfully, I didn't mind that much. My next passenger was a young man in his thirties. He got in, understandably looking a little bewildered.
"Hello, Ray. My name is Deidre and I will be your driver taking you to the City of the Dead. On this journey, I'm authorized to bring you back to one memory of your choosing - only one. Once you have chosen, the memory will seem as though you are witnessing it play out before you. But I must advise you that the people in the memory cannot see you, or hear you. You are a mere observer. Now, I always warn my passengers that memory is a fickle thing. The way you remember it in your mind is not always the way it played out in reality. Over time, our memories fade and we do our best to patch them up. The more patchwork we have to do, the further from the truth the memory retreats. Choose carefully," I relaxed in my seat as I finished my well-rehearsed speech, waiting patiently for the man to make his choice.
After about ten minutes of silent pondering, he whispered, "I'd like to go back to when I was happiest. I don't remember the exact date but it was right before my wife left me. We were wrapping Christmas presents and drinking wine and it was one of my favourite nights with her. That was the last time I remember us being really, truly happy," he finished with a sad smile.
"Your wish is my command," I said in a showy, fake ominous voice.
I brought us out of the car and back into his memory, which so happened to take place on December 19, 2011. There was Ray and his wife, both sitting cross-legged on the floor with presents in their laps and wine glasses beside them. Ray kept trying to tape down a piece of wrapping paper and clumsily knocked over a box beside him. They laughed.
"Here, let me help you with that," his wife said as she reached over. Once she had finished helping him, she reached for the wine bottle on the table. "Jeez, Ray! I've only had one glass so far," she gently scolded him with a smile and a shake of the almost empty wine bottle. Ray stretched and stood up - leaning down to kiss his wife on the forehead. He disappeared into the kitchen but reappeared soon after with another bottle of red in hand.
"And that, my dear, is why we have a whole wine rack full of bottles!" They laughed and carried on wrapping. Ray had finished three more glasses before she even finished one. I looked over at dead Ray, who was sitting on the couch leaning towards the couple with his head in his hands - a tear or two had already found their way down his cheek but he was smiling.
His wife reached for scissors on the table and, in the process, knocked over his glass of wine.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Carla. Watch what you're doing!" Ray yelled. Dead Ray, sitting on the couch, shook his head.
"No. No, I didn't say that." Dead Ray was standing now.
The Ray in the memory got up and stomped off to the kitchen. He threw a rag onto Carla's lap. "Clean it quickly, before it stains. Fuck, you just can't do anything right, eh? You can barely wrap a goddamn present, Carla. Now you're just spilling wine all over the carpet that *I* paid for. And of course you spilled my wine. Was that your subtle way of telling me I've had too much to drink? Huh?" Memory Ray was yelling, and Carla was crying.
Dead Ray was pacing around the living room. Not the living room he remembered, but the living room as it really was.
"Stop, stop, stop. I'm done. I want to go back. Take me to Death City or whatever, just fucking make it stop!" I waited a few minutes. I let him hear himself scream at Carla a little more. Maybe it was sadistic of me. I mean, the guy was dead, after all. But sometimes I just couldn't help it.
We were back in the car, a short distance away from the City of the Dead.
"So Ray, if you don't mind me asking, how did you pass?" I said, knowing full well how he died.
He sat in silence for so long that I didn't think he was going to answer. "I... I was driving and I ran into another car. A family. A car with a family in it. The woman in the place they sent me before I came here told me that most of them died, too. Everyone but the 4 year old daughter,"
Ray was staring straight ahead, tears streaming down his face as he held back sobs. I knew I could be written up for this behaviour. I should have stopped, but I didn't.
"Were you drunk, Ray? Were you drunk when you hit that car with a family in it?"
"Yes," he cried. | 2017-12-14T16:28:51 | 2017-12-14T16:17:19 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] One morning, everyone in the world wakes up with either a blue triangle or an orange circle on their hand, and a voice announces "The two teams have been selected - let the competition begin!" Things degenerate from there. | Reddit had practically told us about this years before it happened. Who would have guessed that pitting everyone on Reddit into teams Orangered and Periwinkle was a beta test for something bigger, and not a harmless April Fool’s joke? Nobody had seen what Alex Ohanian and the others were plotting, and when it happened, the response was everything I had expected for something of this scale and more.
Before, during the April Fool’s event, I had been placed into team Orangered. It had been a great event; I spoke with others on the Reddit servers and made several internet friends along the way. When everything ended and Orangered and Periwinkle were shelved away, it had turned into a fond memory, the sort I thought about when real life people ignored me in school or spoke rudely to me.
But it was nothing more than that, I thought.
The day it happened. I woke up to my mother standing over me with a frantic look. She shoved the family iPad into my face and blubbered something incomprehensible about God and omnipotent voices speaking in the air.
The cable news networks were buzzing like buzzards over this new development. GOD ANNOUNCES ONLY ONE TEAM CAN SURVIVE, read CNN. IMMINENT BATTLE TO THE DEATH? Fox News cried.
I looked at my hand, expecting an orange circle.
But instead, to my immense horror, it was a filthy Periwinkle symbol.
That was when I realized that life and death didn’t matter. I didn’t care about dying. All I knew was that Periwinkle could not be allowed to win this battle.
So, of course, being rational, I resolved to kill myself.
My Orangered brothers, know that I fought with you even when Fate was against us. I suppose I will meet you again, one day.
But for now, farewell. | Hell had ascended in the form of two symbols. Two abysmally plain, mundane symbols. But they held power, carried a mountain of weight. Life and death were decided by these two symbols; a circle of orange or a triangle colored blue.
“The two teams have been selected! Let the competition begin!” the booming voice caused Jeremy to fly out of bed still wrapped in his cocoon of blankets. He hit the floor hard and hissed as what felt like a white-hot poker pressing into to the back of his right hand. Jeremy wrestled out of his bindings and as he got his hand free, the smell of burnt flesh assaulted him. It was stomach turning as the stink of burnt hair and seared flesh filled his nostrils. Gasping, he saw a symbol etched into the skin. A blue triangle perfectly branded on the back of his hand, the skin around it red and inflamed. The wound was tight and flexing his hand Jeremy thought it would tear.
“What the fuck,” he breathed, his voice shaken. Sweat rolled down his face. Fat drops got in his eyes, burning and blurring the sight of the symbol.
“Jeremy!” He looked up at the call of his name. It was his roommate, his voice weak and breathless. Freeing himself from his blankets, Jeremy stumbled his bedroom door.
“Kurt?” Jeremy asked as he pulled open his door and hoarsely laughed, “You gotta see this.”
He saw his roommate leaning against the wall of the hallway outside the door, his left hand held in his right. Jeremy almost gagged at the acrid smell of burnt hair.
“L-look,” Kurt breathed and showed Jeremy his left hand. Jeremy’s eyes widened at the sight of an angry, orange circle branded on the back of his hand. Rage sprang to life in Jeremy’s gut, like sparks showering across dry straw. It burned hot and choked out his soul in the billowing smoke.
A snarl rumbled Jeremy’s throat. Kurt’s eyes grew wide as Jeremy leapt at him, his mouth opening to shout. Jeremy swung, and a balled fist caught Kurt in the temple. Warmth bathed his knuckles, and Jeremy swung again. Blood sprayed against the wall, peppered Jeremy’s face and chest as he continued to pummel his roommate. Jeremy screamed with each blow, his howls of rage echoing down the hallway. Kurt tried to defend himself, attempted to push Jeremy off. But he was pinned. He threw his arms up to absorb the blows, but Jeremy yanked them aside. Crying and blubbering nonsense about his life, Kurt finally went limp.
Jeremy sat with Kurt pinned between his knees. Jeremy gasped for breath as he studied the broken man beneath him. Swollen and bloody, Kurt was beaten beyond recognition. He watched him for a while. Minutes ticked by like days, but he didn’t stir. He was dead, beaten to death like the dog he was.
Jeremy started to chuckle, then that chuckle grew into a wild, insane cackle as he examined his hands. They were slick with blood, and his knuckles swollen. Still giggling like a mad man, Jeremy pushed himself up in search for more that bear the circle.
| 2018-01-25T15:47:01 | 2018-01-25T15:46:15 | 122 | 20 |
[WP] *Picks up Phone*: Hello? *Voice*: In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped. *Hangs Up* | The phone was ringing. Normally I would let it go to voicemail, but I was waiting to heär back about a job interview.
"Hello?"
"In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped."
Then the caller hung up. It was a restricted number, but the voice sounded familiar. It was too imaginative to be a prank call from someone I knew. I grabbed a notepad and wrote the message down. Of course it can't be real... that goes without saying.
But if it were real, what would this mean? I was given an opportunity to speak to my past self and had nothing meaningful to say? No words of wisdom to impart? Not even some lottery numbers?
I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach. Five years from now I won't amount to much. I'll still be doing the same thing I do, day after day. Barely getting by, living in a daze of mediocrity.
Fuck that.
.........
*Five* *years* *later*
.........
I had packed my things a few days after the call. I had saved so many threads over the years on self improvement, learning languages, changing careers, becoming disciplined. I completely changed my life, who I was. And I was finally happy.
I felt a tingling along my spine. It was time. I picked up my phone. My fingers started dialing without thought. I knew what I had to tell myself now, after five years.
"In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped." | It's been five years since I got the call. I would be a vile lie to say that I hadn't thought about that day when I delighted myself with a startling amount of speech disability.
I had convinced myself that the opportunity will truly come to me. I didn't know how, but I sure hoped a strikingly beautiful goddess would come down from the burning stars of a cloudless sky, holding a golden clock in her seamless hands. Then, she would smile and humiliate the beauty of the cold winter night. Only to hand me the relic and fly back to realms beyond my mortal comprehension, leaving me to figure out what to do.
Reality was... different, to say the least. My phone rang, waking me up from my usual nap. One would think that whatever entity controlled these things would at least have some sort of decency towards the holiness of a well-earned nap. This one clearly didn't.
I cursed under my breath and fought my way out of the sheets. My head always hurt and span as if I were drunk when I woke up in these sort of rushes. The walls became enemies of my blurry sight, they were easy to avoid I must admit, but annoying nevertheless. Then, I reached my kitchen, my phone vibrating wildly like a horny wasp. I picked it up, holding the unholy words of a man who got his nap denied back.
"Hello?" I grunted.
"It's time. Clear your mind, you have thirty seconds," the voice of an old man said. It was wizened and rough around the edges.
"Time for what?" I said, dumbfounded.
"Hello?" I said, but it wasn't *me.* It was young me, I would recognize that high-pitched voice anywhere, it made my last five years in high school quite a torment.
At that very moment, many thoughts flooded my mind. I could've told myself that I would fail the third exam of math because I forgot my calculator. I could've told him that true friends are worth well more than a shady girl. I could've told him that everything in this last five years hadn't been so bad, but why would I ruin myself the thrill of discovering that?
Again, I could've told myself many things. But instead, in that bare second I had to think, pressured by the ticking of an invisible clock and the drowsiness of a obliterated nap, I settled with something I wasn't even certain of.
"Hello me, I'm you, but five years older. No, there's no goddess. But, we will live until our voice is tarnished by the traces of time, so that can't be so bad," I said, the words pouring out my mouth like furious rain. "Let's agree to enjoy our life the best we can, okay? Oh and you will talk to you in five years time. Bye." I hung up.
I don't know if whoever spoke to me before was myself from a distant future were they discovered some advanced technology to speak to the past, but I sure hope it was, because I'm skydiving in an hour or so. | 2018-02-04T14:30:46 | 2018-02-04T13:14:55 | 104 | 62 |
[WP] *Picks up Phone*: Hello? *Voice*: In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped. *Hangs Up* | The phone was ringing. Normally I would let it go to voicemail, but I was waiting to heär back about a job interview.
"Hello?"
"In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped."
Then the caller hung up. It was a restricted number, but the voice sounded familiar. It was too imaginative to be a prank call from someone I knew. I grabbed a notepad and wrote the message down. Of course it can't be real... that goes without saying.
But if it were real, what would this mean? I was given an opportunity to speak to my past self and had nothing meaningful to say? No words of wisdom to impart? Not even some lottery numbers?
I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach. Five years from now I won't amount to much. I'll still be doing the same thing I do, day after day. Barely getting by, living in a daze of mediocrity.
Fuck that.
.........
*Five* *years* *later*
.........
I had packed my things a few days after the call. I had saved so many threads over the years on self improvement, learning languages, changing careers, becoming disciplined. I completely changed my life, who I was. And I was finally happy.
I felt a tingling along my spine. It was time. I picked up my phone. My fingers started dialing without thought. I knew what I had to tell myself now, after five years.
"In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped." | *Picks up Phone*: Hello? *Voice*: In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped. *Hangs Up*
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
What would you say to that? Was it a prank? No. Because the voice on the other end was mine. It was my inflection, my words. "Because I'm stumped", that's a very me thing to say.
I could write it off as a joke, a random call.
But, in the months since, it stuck with me. It drove into my mind like a wedge. I told my friends - but I didn't tell my family as they would think I was going kerr-razy.
My friends laughed, or showed interest for a few minutes, and then carried on with their own mundane amusements - whose dating who, the pointless work issues of the day.
Only my friend Nick took an interest, and over a few beers gave me the one decent chat about it.
The years did pass, and it never left my mind, but life continued as it is prone to do. I met a girl, she loved me, and I loved her, and then she broke my heart. I spent six months feeling that mortal depression - why were we not together? Why were we not spending every single moment together?
And that faded (and it took much longer than six months, I lied). I threw myself into work, and I threw myself into expanding my social circle. Through one new friend I met another friend, and we met at the right time to start a company together. I'll stay anonymous but I think you will have heard of us. Next time you order a food delivery, you're probably sending 30 cents my way.
Three years ago I met Diana, and it's not the intense love I felt before - but it was a humble one, a mature one. She waited for me when I was unready for a relationship. When I was ready to let go of the past, I realised just how deep a relationship could be, I love her.
And last week it was five years. I don't think to the day, necessarily, but I remember it was March 2013 when I first got that call.
In that time, no wizard has come to find me. No inventor has turned up with a magic "dial-the-past" phone.
On a whim, I dial my own number - it had been on my mind for a day or two, and finally I think "dial my own number". It's still the same number. I fully expect to go to voicemail.
*Dials phone*: Hello? *Me*: In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped. *Hangs Up*
I wouldn't change a thing.
| 2018-02-04T14:30:46 | 2018-02-04T14:27:55 | 104 | 11 |
[WP] You've been recruited into an adventuring party full of rejects. The warrior faints at the sight of blood, the wizard's spells never do what he intends, and the cleric is an atheist. As a tone-deaf bard, you're sure that you'll find right in. | The Warrior.
Funny you should call him that, since facing people head-on is the last thing he wants.
No, he'd rather things end before they begin. He's full of warm smiles and flowery words. Seeing his charisma in action is like mind control. A saint and an angel, he's the nicest man you'll ever meet, at least until he's wrapping that rope of his around your neck and pulling hard enough to snap it.
Some think his demeanor is something to be taken advantage of. Some think that by himself, he is nothing in a fight. Some think that his phobia of blood extends to ashes, and others still have never laid their eyes on a flamethrower.
The Wizard.
An unearthly vixen wielding a silly little number called wild magic that has been lauded as an ordeal from the god of chaos.
When you're all backed into a corner, you turn to this *force*, this *freak* of nature, and let her unleash whatever ungodly maelstrom of anarchy the universe is content to throw your way. Maybe everyone will get lucky and just transform into an animal for 24 hours. Maybe she'll split the continent, which is a good distraction if nothing else. Maybe she'll destroy everything in her path and leave a barren wasteland in its wake from which nothing will grow for generations. Who can say? Not your enemies, that's for sure.
The Cleric
A master of a magic borne of belief yet lacking a single ounce of faith in his head.
It frustrated him. Drove him mad, some would say. Magic coming from god used by faithless was weaker, but why would such a god grant them his favor at all? Why could something that wasn't real influence fate and forces at the flick of a wand? The scars on the side of his head are still there to this day. A reminder of when he cut himself open and went looking for the answers to the world. Nowadays, he's just a gardener with an entire field full of purple flowers to his name. He harvests them, squeezes them dry, and puts them in tubes over an open flame. He calls it liquid faith in a bottle, and to you it's just regular tea. One sip and he becomes the greatest healer the world has ever seen. Two and he could perform miracles and raise the recently deceased. A whole bottle and a kingdom could be leveled under a rain of fire and brimstone. Makes you wonder what answer he found in that head of his, and why it's not the answer for you or anyone else.
You're the last of the group, and in your opinion, the least impressive.
You're just a simple performer, at least where it counts. You pluck strings, hum a certain way, and what comes out has people cheering for more. It must be nice to hear, if it drives them to tears and pacifies angry beasts, but the constant ringing in your ears paints all too different a picture for you to be able to take them seriously.
The chords are just suggestions. The pattern sets an emotion, and then the words pull them into a command, not unlike any other magic spell. You calculate what others intuit, you measure what others can guess, and for the longest time, you thought it was impossible for it to be so easy.
For the longest time, you thought they were just being dramatic.
For the longest time, you thought it wouldn't hurt to make people as happy as you could.
For the longest time, you thought that a simple Bard like yourself couldn't kill anyone.
You haven't played the way you used to in a long time. You still don't, even when killing monsters is your goal. You don't talk around people anymore, and you always end your performances on a sour note, just to deter praise. It doesn't.
It would be better if everyone was like you, you think. Nothing to die for, nothing but the ringing. | “Are we successful? Success is relative. I like to describe us to our clients as incredibly successful. And in a way, we are incredibly successful. In public, we are known as the Last Hope. To those in the know, such as yourself, we are known as the Lost Hope. We are the rejects, the losers, the people you hire to fail. Generally speaking, we have two kinds of clients.” I raise a finger, “The first kind are people that want us to play along with their evil plan, rescue the princess for them while claiming we waded through rivers of blood and so forth. They look like the good guy for hiring the right people, we get the glory for being big damn heroes, you get the picture.”
I take a sip of ale, raising a second finger as I do so.
“Then there are those clients who hire us because they know we can’t succeed. And that’s what they want. They want to look as if they give a flying fuck about the princess, when actually they kidnapped her themselves. They pay us lots of money publicly, we go out to save her. Return after three days spent camping and playing cards while we wait for her body to be delivered. We return in tears saying there’s nothing we could’ve done. Everyone wins again.”
Another sip.
“Which leads me to the question, which type of client are you?”
She smiles with her mouth, but her eyes are flinty and cold. It would be more accurate to say she showed her teeth. She leans forward, takes my ale from my hand and drains it. Locking eyes with her, I feel almost adrift. Like my boat has come untethered in a calm lake, but I know there’s something dangerous lurking under the surface.
“Neither,” she says, “I want you to succeed. Genuinely. For the first time ever, I want you to really be the big damn heroes I know you want to be.” She leans back, taking a gold gorgon from her pocket. She spins it on the table. It comes up heads. I swallow nervously, looking towards the bar. The others are there, they haven’t paid for a drink all night. The owner is all too happy to have the Last Hope in such a shithole of a tavern.
“Uh, you do know that’s impossible,” I begin.
“And why would that be,” She cuts me off, “because you claim you’re a bard but your instrument is the tambourine? Maybe because your cleric claims she follows a god which doesn’t even exist. Or perhaps because the reason your fighter wears a blindfold to battle is because he faints at the sight of blood?”
“Well you certainly know who we are.”
“Don’t even get me started on Caspar. I know that the reason he is reputed to be whimsical and..." She waves her hand as if trying to pluck the correct word out of the air, "...creative with his spell use is because he never fucking knows what’s going to come out of his damn staff.”
Despite her words, her tone remains calm. I am still nervous, something about her was deadly. I make a note to be extremely damn careful going forward.
“Well then, your grace, what would you like us to do?” She was winning me over. Her money was good, and a job a little different would be nice for a change. We’d been languishing in Grimm’s Respite for too long, it was time to get out of here.
“A traveller is coming to town. Meet him in secret. He carries with him an object in a sealed box. Kill him, and take the box. Under no circumstances are you to open the box, or it will be the last thing you do. Do I make myself understood?”
I nod dumbly. Then I clear my throat, finding my words. “Uh, we tend not to agree to killing people who aren’t actively trying to kill us…” I say weakly.
“You will, I know you need the gold, and the pay is two thousand gorgons. A year’s worth for you, for just this one simple task. I will arrange for you to receive details soon, and you will have our assistance in fleeing the city.”
I was entranced by her words, she is doing something to me, something I didn’t like. I manage to say, “You said, ‘our’?”
Another hard smile, “You will only be told what you need to know.” She stood, sweeping her long cloak around her. “Goodbye.” She touches my face as she brushed past me. I feel her fingers, cold, dead. They feel fleshless, like dried bones. I shudder and look around. She was gone. I look to the bar. My friends, my companions, my co-conspirators. Whatever you call them, they are smiling, jostling each other, relaxing. I sigh, go to take a swig of my ale. It was empty, of course. I stand and head to the bar, not knowing what I would tell them, or what we would do about this contract.
​
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Thanks for reading, feedback appreciated of course | 2019-01-05T01:27:36 | 2019-01-04T19:16:52 | 79 | 22 |
[WP] your best friend recently died. His funeral was yesterday, but today you just saw him on the street. Approaching him you ask how he was still alive he responds, "how do you know me, no one was supposed to remember". | "What do you mean 'no one was supposed to remember', Teddy?" I asked. There was a nagging voice in my head, saying that our mutual roommate and friend had been oddly chipper the morning after Teddy's funeral.
"I mean- well that you're not supposed to remember." Teddy said, raking his hand through his hair. "Or- I don't think, it's really not clear."
"What do you mean, 'it's not clear'?" I snapped, feeling a little irrational. Damnit I was justified! I'd spent the day before crying over his grave only to run into him on the street the very next day.
My phone buzzed and I looked down only to see a reply text from my mother. 'Who's Teddy?'
"And why doesn't my mom know who you are?" I asked, shoving the phone in his face. A part of me recognized how crazy it was to be mad at Teddy that he wasn't dead, but that wasn't the part in charge right now.
Teddy glanced at the phone and frowned, "We should go."
"Go?" I asked, "Go where?"
"Well, uh," Teddy groaned and shuffled his feet. He looked at me in the eyes then, "Do you trust me?"
"Obviously," I said, hands on my hips. "Teddy, I've known you since I had *actual* teddy bears."
"Then take my hand," He put his hand out and I frowned. He made it seem like that was a big request, like something was going to happen. I trusted him though, more than he knew, so I reached out and grabbed it.
Not a second after doing so the world seemed to change around us. Before I could comprehend what was happening we were standing in a garden outside of a large brick building.
"What the shit?!" I exclaimed, jumping away from Teddy the second I felt the ground properly under my feet again.
"Suse, I'm a wizard," Teddy said. I would have laughed if he hadn't just transported me like *Harry Potter*.
"Okay..." I said slowly, "And what does that have to do with you faking your death and making everyone forget you but me?"
"Wizards and witches are hunted," Teddy said. "I needed to make sure everyone was safe."
"Then why can I remember you?" I asked, feeling a little calmer. He lead me through the building, which seemed to be a dorm hall. "Could you just not leave me behind?"
I grinned cheekily but the joke seemed to have not effect on him. He frowned in concentration, like he always did when faced with a difficult problem.
"I didn't do the spell, the dean of the school did," Teddy said. "And as far as I know... well, it's impossible."
"Obviously, that's why you apparated me to Hogwarts." I grinned, seeing Teddy again was calming me down and my Potter obsession was taking over. *Magic was real!*
"I didn't-goddamn it Suse this isn't that Harry Potter kids book it's real life." Teddy's words were frustrated but, as per usual, he was grinning at my antics.
"Whatever you say, Mr. Wizard Guy," I teased. We had finally arrived at what I assumed was his dorm and away from the weird looks of other students. I realized I still didn't know where we were. "So this is a school?"
"Uh, yeah," He said. "Anyway, it's impossible. The only way you can remember me is if... it's stupid, it's not possible."
"Teddy-bear," I said, giving him a straight look. "Clearly it is."
"Don't call me that," He snapped, making me grin. "The only way you could be here is if you have some sort of immunity to magic. That's impossible though, because only witch hunters are immune. Not to mention that if you *are* immune to magic like a witch hunter then I have no idea how the teleportation magic worked on you."
I shrugged, "No clue. God- I'm so glad you're okay though."
We settled into silence, both of us sitting on his twin bed. It didn't last too long before someone else entered the room, throwing his bag on the other bed in the room.
"Susan?!" My older brother nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me. "And Theo- what are you two doing here?"
"Well," Teddy said, looking between Xander and me. "That explains why you remember me."
"What?" Xander and I spoke at the same time, confused.
"You're a witch." Teddy said. He grinned at me, as if he weren't surprised in the slightest. "They're incredibly rare but-"
"Holy *shit*," Xander said. He looked utterly shocked.
Both men were staring at me and I was suddenly aware that my life was about to turn upside down. | Startled by his response I paused. What was really going on here? I stared into his eyes looking for an answer. Only to be greeted back with a stone cold look. Everyone saw what happened I thought to myself, so the fact that he was standing here today is unthinkable.
“How do you know me” he quizzed
“ your my best friend of course I remember you”
“ then it was all for nothing”
“What do you mean?
“ When the building crumbled next to the gas station and set a light I died along with it, so I thought. A couple hours later I woke up only to see my corpse next to me, then I dug my way through the rubble and made it out alive”
“That’s impossible your a mortal human”
“ well now you know, however nobody is supposed to remember who I am, I was told your memories would be wiped of my existence”
A brutal shiver was sent down my spine. None off this makes any sense I saw him die two months ago and I stood there helpless. Only to find he is alive and well. Frustration entered my mind. Does he not understand what he put his family and friends through. For a child to go before their parent must be unbearable, yet low and behold he stands there, as if it’s just another day.
I could not believe that this was my so called best friend. For someone to survive an explosion still puzzles me. The first thing he told me was that no one was supposed to remember. So what was he trying to hide?
I looked at him one more time, walking past him I slightly touched his shoulder that’s when I heard the bang...
“Get up Tj! Stop sleeping on the desk!
Wait why was I being shouted at I was just standing in front of my friend? Slowly I crawled back into to reality.
The question loomed over me once again...What was really going on here?
Blurred mind, blurred vision. How could this have taken such an unexpected turn of events? One minute I am with my friend now I’m getting screamed at to wake up. I slowly stood up as if I were a zombie. My arms flopped left and right as I dragged my feet across the floor with one objective in mind. Get out the classroom.
If everything he said was true, then was he really my best friend? It’s like I didn’t even know who that was standing in front of me. “Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.” It was almost as if I could see time moving. That’s when it was starting to dawn on me, if I am now suddenly in the classroom and being shouted out of my sleep, then, no wait, this can’t be. Had I dreamt the whole thing??
As I began to backtrack my day all I could remember was waking up and going into school. If so then why did that dream seem so real was I missing him that much?
CRRRAASSHH!!!
The glass on the classroom windows had been shattered, everyone around me had started to go into an absolute frenzy while I remained still as a statue.
Even though I had seen the glass shatter, I still couldn’t understand why they were screaming. That’s when I saw them. Six men dressed in all black combat gear, covering their faces with helmets, leaped through the window. They began a rampage throwing chairs around the classroom, ripping down posters, as they wreaked more havoc I turned around, only to see that I was the only person still in the classroom.
One of the men stopped what he was doing, he wasn’t just looking at me he was looking through me. I could hear my heartbeat thudding loudly against my chest. Storming towards me he let of a scream...
“AAARRRGGGHHH”
I dodged him, sending him crashing into a wall. Hastily I made a dash for the door. It felt as if I was running in slow motion. Had time been paused. Quickly I snapped back into the real world, only to realise I was being lifted off the ground.
“NOOOO” I yelped out
These guys showed absolutely no remorse. A blindfold was placed over my eyes, shutting me out from the present. Taking me away from the outside world.
“3...2...1... action!!”
Slowly coming to my senses all I could see was bright white beams. Quickly I shut my eyes. Why was the light so bright? Keeping my eyes closed I tried to move my legs but they were numb. My arms also numb.
I could hear talking in the background, as I begun to pay more attention I could hear one name.
“Can you confirm he’s our man”
“Yes I can we bumped into each other on the street today. Tj moon, that’s his name.
“Okay, thank you for confirming Zain”
A sickness entered my body. Zain my best friend had he signed them up to this? I wish I could open my eyes to see what had happened me. It felt as if I was upright on wooden board. Unable to move my arms and legs I tried moving my head. Still no joy. Panic consumed me, would I die here without knowing the true story of what happened to Zain. How he was still able to stand when I saw him. Even now he is able to stand there and talk about me to someone.
I squinted my eyes only to be met with the white beams. Not too long ago I was at his funeral. Could it be that all this time he was setting me up for mine?
VVVVVVMMMM!!!
Was that a drill? Adrenaline zipped through my body. Once again I could get a feel of my arms and legs.This was a moment to savour. As I let out a sigh of relief, I felt something very sharp tear into my right shoulder.
“AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!”
The pain was immense. Unbearable would be and understatement. I could feel the blood seeping out of my shoulder. Becoming more and more dizzy I started to fade away. That’s when I heard the whisper.
“How do you know me, no one was supposed to remember”
Would these evil words make up the final piece of my memory? I was wondering into oblivion. Those words rang inside my head one more time.
How do you know me, no one was supposed to remember...
| 2019-01-09T13:15:39 | 2019-01-09T10:23:58 | 61 | 24 |
[WP] A clang came from the engine room, followed by a string of curses. Most of the crewmembers stood far from the doors, fearfully looking in. It was their first trip out to deepspace since they had taken on a human mechanic, and they were all pretty sure that those were not good noises. | First Engineer Timothy Jenkins: Overall, I think today went well. Got a good look at their engine internals. Pretty tidy work, though they seem to play it overly safe with their parameters. I reckon they could get another 5% jump distance if they widened their quantum ports in the manifold, and another 10% if they fed back the spacial resonance to the input on the quantum manifold. They seemed in awe of me taking the engine apart and putting it back together. Or maybe scared. Hard to read their um, faces? If that's what you'd call 'em. Can't say I care for their food though. Tastes like mud.
Captain's log: [Best translation: expletive] It was supposed to be a method of cultural exchange. Both of our leaders thought it would be a *good idea* to slowly expose each-other to members of the other species, hand-picked by the [expression: similar to "top brass"]. Given that this was first contact for both our species in a galaxy seemingly otherwise void of sentient life, our leaders thought it prudent to devise an activity of trust between our two peoples. There are certainly historical similarities: ideological wars, nearly destroying ourselves with atomic bombs, several near economic collapses. The difference seems to lie in time-frame though. According to their time keeping, they have only been off-world for less than [Approximation: 1/12] of the time we have. I must question the wisdom of our elected though, given that we took on this Human "Engineer" with little vetting. He was supposed to be here to learn about our technology, and to share his species' own, not take the [Best translation: expletive] engine apart! [No translation: possible sigh] In his defense, it was just the auxiliary engine, and he did manage to get it put back together, but not before dropping the quantum manifold onto the deck and making terrible sounds. According to our translation matrix, he cursed as he put the engine back together. I'll have to reprimand my crew. During this ordeal none of them made any attempt to halt either the tear-down or reconstruction of the engine. I just want to get through the next [Approximation: two months] in one piece. [No translation: possible laughter] Oh, before I forget, schedule a nutrition crew member to instruct our latest engineering crew member on proper usage of the nutrient slurry. I heard that he drank the entire bowl rather than planting a [Cultural reference: A rapid growth meal pod or seed developed to convert base nutrients into edible foodstuffs] we tuned for his palate. | It's been 50 years since we, as a race, perfected space travel. Of course, I say race so as to gloss over the fact that entire groups of people had not only developed the math required to make the jump to hyperspace, but according to myth and lore, a few groups had managed it also, a full 150 years ago. That's a full 100 years before the " companies " got their head wrapped around it.
It doesn't affect our day to day operations as such, the knowledge that there might be clusters around our home planet with the tech to make the hyperspace jump in less than 1/10th of the fuel we use currently. Honestly speaking, fuck 'em. We have too much fuel anyway.
It has created a weird hierarchy though, within the space corps. Basically if anyone suspects that you are one of them, you're in an extreme. Either you're treated with royalty, or suspicion. If you're lucky, it's the first. Although if you're treated like royalty, it doesn't take long before the rest of the crew starts treating you with suspicion. It's a slippery slope, and there's really no coming back. Legend has it, that a few communities dispense with their high tech if treated nicely, so people acquiesce. Personally, I think it's a bunch of hokum. For me, and quite a few others, all of these frills usually serve the purpose of a ritual hazing, only it's us crew at the receiving end.
We try to watch out for it but of course, they get away with a lot too. Just last week we had a new member join our crew. And of course, the company skipped the background check. I mean, why look through a person's space-resume' and not look for inconsistencies as glaring as, where it says 10 yrs - mechanic, it doesn't say what vehicle because it sure as hell isn't a space ship! And I can obviously say this right now, because I'm in a room, surrounded by other crew members, going through this guy's space-resume' and we're all just marveling at the idea, that since we're in space, and our bodies don't actually have any biological mechanism to realize the amount of danger it's in, we're gonna have to inject ourselves with the adrenaline required to figure out what to do in the precise moment when we realize we might actually be in some kind of trouble.
For now, there's an inordinate amount of noise coming from the other room.
\*loud clanging\*
\*really loud clanging\*
"Ok, whose idea was it to hire this guy? Was it you Dick?"
"No man, wasn't me. Looksie here I got the little contract right here, and all it says is crew meet Monday at the docks. I met ya'll at the docks."
"Well which one of you fuckers did it?"
"It wasn't me Harry. It was one of those company fuckers. You know how dem are. They don't care nothin'. They prolly in their cushions thinkin' he got sum hidden tech up his sleeve or somethin'. Fucker's gonna make us get to hyperspace in one quintillion of a second faster than them nincompoops can come up with."
"You really think so?"
"Doesn't matter what I think Harry. I think the guy crooked us. I mean, he obviously doesn't know anythin' bout' fixing no space ships, that's for sure."
\*loud clanging noises\*
"Yeah, he doesn't."
"Whatever guys, I'm going to tune into the inter-galactic space-athon at Dix 51's nebulon-bar at galaxy cluster 31, route 78, channel 89. Now at a limited time period offer of 20 cents an hour, only! Don't forget to subscribe now."
\*clanging noises\*
\*clanging noises\*
\*tv starts\* | 2019-05-31T07:32:53 | 2019-05-31T02:52:26 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager. | "I'm sorry, what?!?" Captain Amazing Jr. asked.
I tried to remain as calm and professional as I could, but it was really getting out of hand. "I think you heard me. I, as a law abiding citizen, would like to file a complaint against a rogue hero. The Foehammer has been stalking me, and at this point who else can I call?"
"But you're Mistress..." I stopped him before he could call me Mistress Menace. I hadn't come up with the name, but I did secretly love it. It was ominous without being overly objectifying.
"That's Ms. Jenny Stevenson of 3 Westbrook Ln. I am not talking about the professional relationship The Foehammer and I have. I am talking about him crossing boundaries into my *personal* life. That is unacceptable."
I paused. "Look I respect Jeffrey. He's a good hero. But he's overzealous, and he doesn't understand that neither he nor I are *on call* 24/7. Just like it would be improper to show up at your home on Wednesday nights at 7:00 just as you were leaving the babysitter there for a nice quiet date night with the wife...." I held my hand up "which has *never, ever*, been interrupted by any villain in the city, and I'm guessing never will, because that would be a bad thing."
The Cap didn't nod, but I could tell he wanted to.
"So... Is there anything that can be done about The Foehammer? I mean, you are his team leader. Won't he listen to you? Can't you make him understand how inappropriate it is to barge in on me at all hours of the evening."
I could see him thinking. Trying to to work through the angles. "You've given me a lot to think about. I'm sure, as you said, The Foehammer was being overzealous and hadn't realized the impact he was having. I'll be sure to discuss this with him immediately."
I thanked Captain Amazing Jr. and departed.
Jeffrey really wasn't a bad guy. Honestly, he would normally be my type. I did like those dark eyes, but this time I needed an easily manipulated mark. As an up and comer, he still followed leads. He hadn't gotten a fully developed network to vet his sources. This made him perfect.
A whisper here, a nudge there, and just the right amount of evil-doing to be considered conspiratorial but not actually criminal. Then let him go off the deep end... | “… I was stealing an ORANGE,” Dr. Bad Things said. “A single orange.”
Commissioner Gordon ran his hand through his mustache, thoughtful. “I see…”
“He broke six bones in my body and gave me a concussion. The doctors say I might never see out of
my right eye again!”
“Well, you did commit a crime, Dr. Bad Things… small or large, a crime is still a crime, regardless of –”
“Then call the cops!” Dr. Bad Things said. “Put me in front of a judge! Give me jail time, read me my
Miranda rights! What kind of fucked up system do you guys have here where if you commit a crime a
billionaire dressed as a big bat shows up and beats the shit out of you!?”
“Now, now, Batman’s the best thing that ever happened to Gotham City. Crime has never been lower,
we –”
“He’s a dystopian capitalist nightmare!” Dr. Bad Things said. “Did you know he put Johnson in the
hospital last night?!”
“Johnson?”
“James Johnson, who was stealing food from the convenience store to feed his kids. *He works for
Wayne Enterprises*! And he doesn’t get paid enough to support his family, so he was forced into a life
of crime. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but crime is largely a reflection of social inequality and
lack of education and opportunity, not personal character. There’s a reason why places with bad
distribution of wealth tend to also have higher rates of violence and crime. It’s not because more
people suck there, it’s because they don’t have access to opportunities and education because of the machinations of an oppressive ruling class hoarding wealth.”
“Well, now, that’s just crazy commie talk, I don’t –”
“You know, places where a fucking gigantic company runs the entire city and billionaires can have flying
cars and secret caves and mansions while the population is left to rot?”
“Really, that’s stretching reason a bit, don’t you –”
“You have Wayne Enterprises, this company that pretty much owns everything in town, this guy who
*inherited* the company from his father – which, might I add, is totally against the concept of
meritocracy that you conservatives love to defend – and he’s underpaying his employees, not letting
them unionize, not giving them benefits…”
“Wayne Enterprises works within the boundaries of the law when it comes to –”
“… and then when the employees of that company are forced into a life of crime in order to survive, the
fucking CEO of the company shows up –”
“Think you’re overreacting a bit –”
“…DRESSED AS A MANBAT…”
“—Bruce is philanthropist, he's given a lot of money to --"
“… and BEATS THE SHIT OUT OF THEM! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS TOWN!?” Dr. Bad Things paused. "No wonder people are walking around dressed like clowns all over the place. Jesus."
A silence filled the room. Dr. Bad Things leaned back on the chair, breathing hard.
Commissioner Gordon scratched his head. “I see your point…” he said, slowly. “So you’re saying no
more Batman?”
“Yes, please! No more Batman! Just… due process and law and order as defined by the constitution!” Dr.
Bad Things shook his head. “I mean a single orange, for Christ’s sake's, that's all I was stealing…”
“All right. I hear you. I’ll talk to Batman and see what I can do.”
“Okay… now, if you excuse me, I have to move my car, I think my parking meter ran out like ten
minutes a –”
And he never finished the sentence because Batman crashed into the room through the window and
broke another eight bones in his body for the parking violation, because Gotham City is a nightmare and
superhero stories are all dumb.
/r/psycho_alpaca | 2019-08-01T16:47:10 | 2019-08-01T16:20:25 | 883 | 296 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling. | "Upbeat and happy."
"What?"
"Upbeat" I picked up my mug. "And happy."
"No," he groaned, mumbling a string of insults under his breath, "When I say 'What' I didn't mean--"
Dad ran a hand through his hair.
"You know what?"
"The one where you say but didn't mean?" I took a sip from the mug, the steam fogging my glasses.
"Listen here, you little--" he straighted up on his chair, "Are you going to tell me about it or not?"
I took my frames off, wiped off my sleeve.
"I already did. 'Upbeat and happy.'"
Placing them back on-- then take another sip to blur them again? No, thanks. I placed them on the table instead.
"I know, I heard." he raised his mug in the air and a waitress leaning by the counter straightened up, grabbing the coffee. "But don't you think-- Uhh."
"That I can't write happy and uplifting stuff?" I arched a brow I hoped I decently filled in at him.
The waitress leaned over, refilling his cup.
"Well, you can write" his brows formed a line, "'stuff', but I'm not sure about you writing 'Happy'."
"What?" The waitress took the liberty of refilling my half-filled cup. "Why not?"
"Honey, remember when you tried to make a comedy-- Thanks." he thanked the waitress as she left our booth.
"What about the Anapologetic Apple?"
"I" he cleared his throat. "Nothing. It's just that I thought you were working on something maybe spooky because it's October and y'know."
Raising his hands into claws and baring his teeth, he did what I liked to call a Middle Aged Werewolf Trying Too Hard.
"Well, then you should love my intro then." I reached towards the sugar and cream packets.
"Your intro?"
How many packets of sugar was too many? Screw it.
"It starts with a shiny black fridge at midnight."
"Let me guess." He hummed. "Because. . ."
"It's dark and chilling?" | (Can i make this undertale cos Im making this undertale lol)
​
Its a beautiful day outside, birds are singing, flowers are blooming. Im going hiking today. Who cares if people say Mount Ebott is dangerous, people come back all the time! I get out of bed and get dressed into my favourite striped jumper. I grab my bag and leave the house, wave to my parents, and set off.
​
I climb up the long winding paths of the mountain and enter a large cave. The stalactites clinging onto the roof. I hang my bag around a stalagmite and grab a plaster to cover a nasty cut on my hand. I start to look around and my foot gets caught on a a root and it sends me plummeting into a large pit.
​
***THUNK***
My head hurt, no, everywhere hurt. I had fallen on some flowers? They were yellow, I recognise that they were the same used to remember my aunt who went missing here. I never knew her but i heard she was nice. I leave the flower room and see a lone, singular flower, it turns around and it has a face?! It starts to speak, "Howdy! Im Flowey! Flowey the flower! You're new to the underground arn't ya?" It winks and sticks it's tongue out.
"Dont worry! I'll teach ya how things work around here! See that heart? That is your soul!" A red heart appears infront of my chest, pulseing infront of me, i gasp and take a step back.
"Dont worry silly! Thats yours! See move it around! Souls start of weak, but grow with lots of LV, whats LV why LOVE of course!" It winks again "You want some love dont ya! LOVE down here is spread through little white friendly-ness pellets! Grab as many as you can!"
It sends some white dot things at me, they hit my soul and it hurts, so badly.
"You idiot. To think i would pass up an opportunity like this." Its face contorts.
# "Die"
It surrounds me with the pellets, slowly encosing on me when.
"AHHHnhgfidhn"
It's sent flying across the room. Then i hear another voice.
"Do not worry my child, I am Toriel."
I stand up.
"Caretaker of the ruins"
I grab a stick.
"Take my hand my child"
It holds out it's hand, but i panic and stab it.
"Ahh... I see. Haha. I guess, you weren't as defenseless as I once thought."
You won! Your LOVE and GOLD increased.
​
After that I went around killing the hideous monsters that lived there, every time I did, it felt easier. They wanted to hurt me first. Right? That flower did! I left the ruins, I killed the rest of the monsters. As my LOVE and EXP increased, it was easier, it came to the point where it was enjoyable!
​
I then stood in a checkered hall, staring eye to eyesocket at a skeleton, he had killed me plently of times before, i dont know how, I could just feel it, so could he.
"heh heh, welcome back kid. it's a beautiful day outside today, birds are singing, flowers are blooming..."
​
\-----
Hope that was ok :) Sorry for making it undertale, i just thought sans's genocide lines would be perfect. | 2019-09-07T07:53:22 | 2019-09-07T04:42:58 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] Humans are rather friendly and peaceful. But they have one problem : they eat on a daily basis one of the most illagal and worst drug in the galaxy, known in human language as "sugar", making their integration on the galactic stage... Complicated... |
"Sugars?"
Dr. Othman adjusted her glasses to stare incredulously at the large being across the table from her.
"Yes. Please understand that such systemic addiction would normally be cause to exclude a species from full membership. Given how well human civilization has been able to operate despite the entirety of your population being under the influence of sugar, we have decided to make an exception. Afterall, it was already the Official Decision of the Galactic Federation to accept Humanity as a full member. But I'm afraid that we can't allow any individuals to sit as members of a Federation conclave while illicit substances are present within their circulatory system." Ambassador Xxylax stated calmly, undulating the paddle like cilia along the sides of his carapace in a conciliatory fashion. He hoped the gesture wasn't completely lost on the strange biped. "Your people seem to be remarkably resistant to the negative effects of this family of drugs, the euphoric highs seem to be absent as well, except in young children. Never the less, strong patterns of addiction seem to remain from infancy until death. After much deliberation, The Galactic Federation has graciously decided to offer detox sessions and therapy for all Homo sapiens elected as Federation representatives. They will undergo a more stringent version of what you would call a ‘Keto Diet’."
Xxylax paused momentarily to groom his pedipalps hoping the ritual would ease his nervousness. It wasn't easy breaking such grave news to a species representative, especially when that species had otherwise proven to be so promising in the preliminary assessments for Federation membership. Xxylax quite liked humans. They were friendly, outgoing, and nowhere near as boisterously rude as other primate members, such as the Gegork. Some, such as the doctor, were even a match for the scholarly aspirations of Xxylax’s own species, the Esknix. The sheer variety of skills and temperaments present from one human to the next made them eligible to participate in nearly every council within the Galactic Federation’s Grand Conclave, assuming they could stay sober.
The Doctor was sitting open mouthed with a single digit on her ‘hand’ raised up, a gesture which, if Xxylax remembered correctly, indicated a desire to interject. "Yes, Dr. Othman?”
“Ambassador, when you say sugar you are referring to table sugar, sucrose, correct?” Worry lined the face of the elderly astrophysicist.
Xxylax took a moment to check the glossary of human scientific terms on his datapad. It wouldn’t do to be inaccurate during such a serious discussion. “Yes, amongst others. Your scientific name for the family of drugs would be saccharides.”
“ALL saccharides!?” Dr. Othman exclaimed. It may not be her specialty, but she remembered enough of her biology classes to understand the implications. “Including complex carbohydrates and cellulose?”
“Yes.” Xxylax said with a sigh of relief, “I’m glad you understand.”
“Ambassador, if you don’t mind me asking, what metabolic process does your body use to fuel itself?”
Ambassador Xxylax blinked, taken off guard by the sudden shift in topic. He checked his datapad again, “Why, Esknix primarily use Lysine biosynthesis. It’s common as the main metabolic process amongst galactic sapients, though Methanofuran biosynthesis is not unknown.”
“So, a methane-based metabolism?” the doctor pressed on, “Do you know what type of metabolism most species on Earth employ?”
“It...it’s not methane-based??” Xxylax asked his cilia quivering in confusion.
“Only a few species that don’t have easy access to sunlight. Most species, including humans, depend on a Glycogen metabolism for their energy.” The doctor crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, staring deadpanned at the ambassador. They really ought to include a biologist in these meetings from now on.
Xxylax tapped frantically at the screen of his datapad, convinced he must be misunderstanding a key term. “Oh dear... that can’t be possible can it? Our cultural researches assured me that several humans have undergone drastic cuts to their sugar consumption for the sake of health. Your metabolism can’t be BASED on it! The Keto Diet—”
“Is used for weight loss. It literally causes our body to eat itself. This really isn’t my field of expertise, but I don’t believe the human body can survive on Ketone Body Metabolism alone. If we don’t have *some* glucose in our system the results would be fatal. We’d essentially starve to death.”
Xxylax slowly unwound himself from his chair, which he had wrapped around in horror at the thought of a sapient’s body … *cannibalizing* itself. A shudder passed over the Esknix’s carapace. The Federation obviously couldn’t justify forcing death upon all elected members of a species, but they had already formally accepted Humanity as a full member with rights to sit upon the councils. The sheer amount of red tape and rewritten bylaws this revelation stood to create was a nigh unfathomable nightmare. There was only one word to describe his feelings on the situation. Ironically, it was a human word.
“Fuck.” | I raised both hands above my head, in the universal sign of "please don't shoot me." I had just crossed the airlock from my ship, the Majesty Capacity, and was being waiting for inspection. The Klates took no chances with me. Not because of who I was, but of what I was.
I was a human, and despite our frailty and low technological base, we were sentient and producers of the anti-culture. Not only did we produce anti-culture, we consumed it like candy. Heck for us, it was candy.
Early diplomatic missions between the Klate and Humanity ended poorly. Genetic and Biological assays that there was a small subsection of macromolecules that both races could enjoy together. For whatever reason, really strong cheese was at the top of the list. Klates and the French (go figure) both prioritized sharing the stinkiest and most fetid blocks of coagulated cow juice they could find. Klatian gourmands extolled that cheese was a fine example of sentience taming chaotic biological processes. It also proved to be a strong aphrodisiac for the mantis people, and their diplomatic mission suffered intense casualties those first several times.
The Klatian embassy reassured humanity that the eggs fertilized on each occasion more than made up for these orgies of death.
The other macromolecule proved to be much worse though. At first, the Klates had hailed this substance and extolled its virtues far beyond that of cheese. Upon consuming a small amount, they would become smarter, stronger and perceive deeper into the IR and UV light spectrums. The effects did not last long, yet were meaningful enough to create serious productivity increases for the worker classes. The military colonies of the Klates soon discovered an illicit trade of the substance with their cadet classes.
The substance was called sugar, and it made the mantises smarter and sharper over short periods of time. At first, there seemed to be no side effects. At least, not during the first several months.
After the first several months, Klates that had gone cold and not taken sugar for a while, lapsed into a deep coma. No longer were they secreting the pheromones that kept their family units together. They abandoned their work stations, not getting back to their layers, but just collapsing into piles of chitin and exoskeleton en route to some place or the other. Mantis medicine was unable to identify a cure for this, though over the time the bugs had put together a model to understand the common factor among all of these cases. By the time they understood sugar's role in this, the empire had significantly lost a large percentage of productive output.
This was called the **crash**.
Early physicians gave sugar to the affected in an attempt to wake them. Initial sugar protocols had been effective. Victims responded well and returned to some activity, though still a fraction of where they had fallen from. The more sugar that was made available, the stronger they felt. Yet if this dosing ever fell off, they would soon lapse into their comas. More sugar would keep the victims in the air, but not cure them.
This was called, the **rebound**.
The rebound helped most victims, but there were a smaller percentage that did not lapse back. Their energy levels remained workable, though they still needed sugar to get back to optimum levels. These patients were released back into the mainstream populace, with a regulated dose of sugar to keep them as functional as possible. Bio-scanners were implanted at their cortical stems to report any changes to their biochemistry as an early warning system.
This was called the **dribble**.
This sort of biochemical history was something that I kept in the front of my mind yesterday. In preparation of this trip, I had taken blood thinners, and perspiration supressors. I needed to keep my body temperature low so that i could fool the thermal scanners. This was standard operating procedure for me on most of my gigs, but this one was especially worrying. I've smuggled contraband before. Heck, I've done it lots of times.
This time however, it was supposed to be a declaration of war. I understood the bio-ethics of the thing. I did not understand any of the politics of the thing, where humanity needed to promote the Mantis Federation into an aggressive stance with puny little Earth. Other uplifted civilizations wanted to paint the Klates as a remorseless warlike civilization, bullying weaker species like Mankind. My father had been killed in one of the early diplomatic missions. Earth and Klate historians seemed to ignore the fact that there were human casualties as a result of first contact. I didn't forget though. One day, he was a well-known diplomat and pioneer of xenobiology. The next day he was returned in a casket. The casket was closed to not give me nightmares.
I didn't harbor grudges. I just paid my debts.
My role was simple. Simply said, of course difficult to pull off. I was to poison the space station with sugar, just as another dozen of freelancers like me were doing all across the entry stations of MantisSpace. Thirteen different operators, thirteen different strategies.
I called my plan "Boil the frog." Each station had a standard protocol on receiving humans. We'd be isolated, stripped, scanned via thermal and spectroscopic meters, and the physically inspected. Full security teams managed each inspection process. The bugs were taking no chances on us. At first, there'd be just a trickle of us. No more than 20-25% higher incoming humans than on any given day. We would stretch their capacity only a little.
In about 30 minutes of their reaching peak inspection capacity, the luxury cruise ship - the Millennium Dream - would suffer a serious maintenance engine. Systems would falsely report that life support failure was imminent, and that the ship's only safe port was this one - the port already overloaded with incoming inspections. Being a semi-hive mind, I fully expected them to be able to support this issue as well, which would allow the sugar carriers to sneak in undetected.
Our client species, the Canids, would be arriving any time now. As mankind's best friends, they had happily accepted the task of sneaking the sugar onto the space station on our behalf. Once that was done, all the teams had to do were create enough holes and excuses in inspection protocol to make it look like mantis negligence.
Mankind just needed plausible deniability for this war's opening salvo. | 2020-04-22T15:39:36 | 2020-04-22T14:19:44 | 103 | 26 |
[WP] When you gain a superpower it is a reflection of your inner self, good people tend to get typical 'good' powers such as flight while bad people get 'bad' powers such as mind control. Oddly enough the top superhero and supervillain each have powers that seemingly do not suit them at all | A lot is made of it, really.
People have written books about it.
The truth is, nobody really has any idea. It's just our way of, well… '*trying to understand God'* probably sounds a bit dramatic, but I ask you: what else do you call somebody who flies at a mach ten and plays swingball with rockets?
What is an 'inner self', anyway? Who are you, at your core? In your heart of hearts? What really *defines* you? What you *want?* Who you love? Who you *hate?* How you see yourself? Or who you'd like to be?
If you have the power to control anybody you want, what does that say about you? That you feel like you've got the right to *own* other people? To trample on their will with your own? Make them do whatever you want, no matter what *they* want? Or maybe it means that you're terrified of yourself; scared of your own power, your own influence on other people. What you make other people do without even wanting to.
I don't think it's a coincidence that Mindscape could be a catwalk model if she wanted to be. When you see her, you *want,* whether you want to or not. Get it? She can make you do whatever she wants because most of the time, if somebody who looks like *that* asks you to jump, you say 'how high', and the fact she's got crazy mental powers has nothing to do with it. Think I'm wrong? People have been getting rich for years off nothing more than a pretty face and a perfect smile.
But that's just my layman's guess. Maybe she's really just a narcissist who thinks the world should all bow before her. Because… it does, right? It does. We do.
*It's so wonderful she's one of the good guys!* We'd be so, *so* fucked otherwise, right?
"Hey, Mr. President," she'd say sweetly, "you'll tell me the nuclear codes, won't you?"
Instead, we handed the world over on a silver platter. Well, *you* did.
Not me. Hey, there.
You can call me Ghost.
Who am I?
I'm nobody.
Nobody at all.
Get it? | You know what they say
"You can't judge people by their first apperance"
I always thought how wrong this is. This girl has a mind control ability. And she literally use his boyfriend's ability to fly as a taxi service. Does he even know he got abused? Unbelieveable.
That's also why there are heros. Because of how various powers for indiviuals, heros also have less strict use of their powers. I think the one who has it worse are medical workers and law forces. You need to know if the patience has ability to control cold before examine the illness. Also, is it really fair put 60 years jail time for someone who can regenerate any wounds, therefore has a longer life span?
Which makes you wonder, what kind of personality someone has if they have fast regeneration? Are they such a good person that throw their lifes away to save people? Or do they just so depressed and bullied thus wanted to kill themselves so they gain the ability?
Oh, right. Yes, you heard it right. People gain ability according to their personality.
Neat, huh? Although not now...
It's like puberty. When you personality sets, you gain your superpower. I read a book once that basicly says "A person is same at their 7 and their 70. The only change is the character development, not the core."
I'm not really that philosophycal though. But This book keep my interest after i notice something strange. I come across the top superhero and supervillians conflict, in a police station. It seems their children fallen love with each other and cause a ruckus so now i, as a random police officer, have to interfare their relationship.
Not because i'm any special, really. I just happen to answer the call when they call the police. So now i need to talk to them not as a force to help the superhero against supevillian but as a police officer who's suppose to take no side and establish in a civillian parents way "they are just kids"
How do i know they are the top superhero and supervillian despite not knowing their real names? You guessed it. Their superpowers. Because they are so distinct and not really suit their over the top titles.
Can you believe it? The superhero has the ability to harness darkness. While the supervillian has the abilitiy to harness light. Aren't they superhero and supervillian? How can their powers are so opposite AND against their titles. I saw in the news how that darkness save and protect people in a dark spare while there is basicly a rain of burning light that melts everything they touched.
"I don't want my child to anywhere near them!" said the top superhero in a calculative tone. Just like his ability his calmness send my spine chills.
"Hell no! It is I who don't want anything related to you, you edgy hair" respond the top supervillian. Funny how i never realized the haircut. It's really represent the "edgy darkness"
Honestly, if i wouldn't know they can vaporize me in that spot it looks like two parents who just upset because their kids are in their rebellious phase. Huh, when i put it that way i guess i'm a little bit more calmed so the response came over to my tounge almost without any effort
"Kids these days do this kind of things all the time. If you can consult them a psychologist i'm sure it would turn out fine."
Their gaze went through me. Honestly, i shouldn't said that. Who knows if they got the money to pay a psychologist or not. But...they seem to agree with me?
"Fine" said both of them at the same time. I can feel their blood still boils down with their anger but it seems they agreed my propose? Wow, okay. Everything went better than expected. | 2020-06-15T06:40:59 | 2020-06-15T06:38:30 | 892 | 93 |
[WP] In the Demon Hunters Academy you are known as the very best professor, 80 years old but still in your prime, but you're secretly a demon, and the academy recently got some new demonic detectors, and as opposed to the old ones, these actually work. you can only avoid the main hall for so long. | “And with this simple tincture, I can set off this contraption with no effort at all.”
He stepped through the metallic archway, arms raised disarmingly, as a siren began to emit a pulsing screech and lights flashed out of synch with each other. The audience clapped and cheered, assured because their mentor and leader had outsmarted even the best and brightest new techniques with conventional wisdom once again.
“These contraptions are a monstrosity, a disservice to our endeavor. These fine people had the best intentions when they created this machine”, he paused beaming with pride, seeming to make eye contact with everyone in the audience, “but you can *never* replace the hunter in the quest for demonic eradication!”
The mass of people erupted. He continued to beam as he scanned the audience, lapping up the applause. Till he met my eyes. His smile faltered if only for a moment. We’d had exchanges in the past, and I dropped enough hints that I was on to him. He would respond with comments acknowledging that, brazen enough to be infuriating, but subtle enough that the other students would remain oblivious, blinded by their own admiration and idolatry.
This time was different though. I knew. And he knew. This wouldn’t end well for one of us. | I adjusted the red tie in the mirror, below the course hair on my neck, my gnarled hands trembling with the touch. Staring back at me with sunken cheeks, a large brown liver spot above the eyebrow, and eyes that hadn't shut in days, was an old man I had steadily come to realize was me. I had absently dressed myself in a yellow button up shirt, a grey over coat, and beige khakis. I was hunched over, realizing my hands were shaking without thinking.
I don't remember the day I was born, but I remember the taste of blood on my tongue. The thick, rich flavor, how it stained my teeth and coated my mouth. I remember feeling drunk on it. I was young then. By most accounts, I was young now.
I popped five different pills in my mouth. Two were so big I needed water to help them go down. In petulant pride I dry swallowed the other three.
My arthritic hands shaking, I glanced around the small room for what felt like the last time. Old pictures, aged yellow with time. Old friends, their murals all that is left of them, on the wall of an old man who would join them soon.
I missed their blood.
It was so easy at first. Sinking my fingers into flesh. Now they shake. Then, it took little effort to calmly force them past the protective layer of skin and bone to grab what I wanted. And the taste. A younger me would have a watering mouth, only able to wipe away the spittle from my lips in feeble attempts to hide what I had become. The ash in my mouth was a familiar flavor now.
I missed their smiling faces.
Resolved, I took one more look at figure in the mirror. Short, lanky, I could still see that little boy from the alley. He had golden hair like a field of wheat, wore his father's old work shirt barely tucked into his over alls. His eyes showed a dissatisfaction with his lot in life, getting paid nickels or dimes for a hard days work, going home to a noisy house, and would count himself lucky if he got a warm meal that day. That boy had grown up, forgotten where he came from, and made desperate deals in an attempt to crawl his way up from the squalor.
Now he was old. His hair gone, his pride and stature weathered away. He could no longer stand tall. I was okay with that. It hurt my back anyway.
I left my apartment, and began walking to the main hall.
I had decided I was tired of seeing their yellow faces. I'd rather meet them again. And I was no longer afraid to admit it. | 2020-07-02T22:12:46 | 2020-07-02T22:11:10 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | Crusher had finally found his nemesis’ weakness. After hours upon days upon weeks of observing, monitoring, tailing, he finally found The Reader’s real name. It was Mark. Mark Bellings, the highly regarded psychiatrist. As Mark Bellings, he had saved the lives of countless patients’ lives by helping them realize what truly troubled them. As The Reader, he had thwarted the plans of hundreds of villains simply by getting close to them and hearing their thoughts. No villain had ever been able to stop him.
Until now. Crusher had found a pressure point. You see, Mark Bellings had a little sister, Anna. Constantly partying, constantly stealing, constantly causing problems, yet oddly never arrested. Every Thursday night, she and The Reader would have dinner in his penthouse apartment. All Crusher had to was be in that apartment and grab her, and The Reader wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He could only read thoughts; great for thwarting future plans, but once you were in the room with him? He was useless.
Early Thursday evening, the Crusher walked up to his nemesis’ building, smashing in the front door. He ripped open the elevator doors, crushing them into small metal balls in his huge hands. As he smashed the button for the penthouse, the battered elevator began the climb to the thirtieth floor, high above the city.
When the elevator reached the top, The Reader was standing there waiting. Crusher could almost feel the fear radiating towards him. He smiled.
“I’ve found you, Mark,” he sneered, putting as much contempt as he could into the last word.
“Crusher, now is really, really not a good time. Congrats on finding my alter ego and all, but…can you come back tomorrow? Pretty please?” The Reader glanced at the other elevator, watching as its numbers ticked closer to 30, hoping that it wasn’t Anna.
“Of course not. I’m here to kidnap your little sister. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Crusher began his evil cackle, which rumbled low and slowly became more and more like the sound of an aluminum can crumpling. But he didn’t get to the crumpling part. The Reader interrupted him.
“It’s not what I can do that worries me.”
The elevator dinged open, and a young woman stepped through the doors. Her pink, sparkly crop top matched her eyeshadow perfectly, and even her cheetah print platforms were the same shade. Her eyes fell on Crusher and she scowled. “I thought you said you weren’t going to bring your little friends around here, Mark.”
“He—he was just leaving.” The Reader stuttered.
Crusher scoffed. “Of course I wasn’t—”
The young cocked her head to the side. Tell me why you’re here.
The voice resonated through Crusher’s head, inescapable, clouding his thoughts. He had planned a cunning quip, but what came out was the honest answer, in a strange monotone voice. “I’m here to kidnap you to control your brother.”
“See Mark, this is why you shouldn’t bring them around.” Anna sighed. “Why can’t we just have a nice dinner for once?”
Crusher shook his head, clearing his mental fog, and continued his previous plans. “Little Anna, I’m here to take a page out of The Reader’s book and stop him before he starts. With you under my power, he won’t be able to thwart me—”
Get out. Crusher felt the sudden, uncontrollable urge to leave. He glanced at the elevators, but both had already returned to the ground floor. The only other way out was the window. He ran towards in and smashed through it, beginning the thirty-story drop.
“Really, Anna? You couldn’t have been a little more specific?” Mark walked towards the window, watching his enemy fall.
Anna shrugged. “I told you not to bring them by.” | Windstrike is the coolest super hero in the world that's just a fact. No battles lost, no scandals of any type -he even denunced the bigot president during his term, that took balls!- which is why I wanted to do it.
There's only a few of unwritten rules for us criminals but if you must know one this is it: "Don't go after the loved ones of the heroes" it has never sit right with me I mean granted we barely know their real identities but if you ask me its a sure way to enter the villans hall of fame, and for someone like me with limited options I need to explore any chances.
I have inmortality but only decided to be a Villan a few years ago (I was wasting myself as test dummy) not an useful power to attack but it does ensure I'll come up from a fight alive, that along with the hate from the biggest hero will put me on the map.
I can see it now "The Dealer" associated with the respect I deserve, So when they announced that they were going to trap the heroes on their own hall in an all out attack I though at best they'll keep them busy for an hour maybe 2 (it all depends on how bored its Vampire, that annoying know it all)while I pay a visit to Matt, see I have been observing Windstrike for a few months now and I know he keeps close tabs on him and I just know this is going to change my life
-hello- he smiles as he opens the door, my gun already pointed I wanted to shoot him but I stopped I need to make sure he calls for help -oh... never seen you before -I sight I want to shoot him again- oh yes Dealer, correct? -
-The dealer- I'm kind of happy that he knows my name, but annoyed that he forgot the article, it keeps it classy, he smiles and lets me in, smart boy, inside there's a group of of people... a party? I was not expecting company
-Hi guys, The dealer- he smiles at me while he says it, god I hate this - is here- Shannon did you know he was comming?- a Woman looks at and squints
-never seen him before, Duke hardly ever talks about C tiers- Matt is still smiling, more people start staring, I decide to put a end to this I point my gun at the fridge and shoot, it implodes (Molecular it's very good at guns I'll give him that but his prices are crazy) everyone stares at me and I smile I finally got their attention they finally understand why am I here.
-Honey, you're going to have to pay for that, at least it'll be cheaper than that gun you got from my son- says an older woman while vaping then turns the man next to him and resumes her conversation as if I havent just desintegrated a fucking fridge
-Listen! You're all my hostages... and did you just said your son?- I turn to the Woman, violet eyes same as the ones who sold me the gun - what the fuck?
-Language, son- says the man next to her, their hands locked- yes Molecular is our son-
-And why are you here with him? Do you know who he is?- I point at Matt he is still smiling i think he took a xanax, no one can be that happy
-Windstrike's boyfriend- says a blonde with a giggle
-fiance- corrects Shannon -and we still needs to finish everything for the party tonigh you are going to have to move, we need a new fridge now, I'm so happy that Duke is bringing the cake later or you'll be in trouble-
-who the fuck is Duke?!- Molecular's parents look at me disapprovingly
-Darkness- responds the Blonde matter of factly
-shit!- Windstrike might be the greatest hero on earth but Darkness is our top villan, suddenly it hits me- I think i need to sit
- oh you got it, it seems- says shannon smiling -you came here to break the rule-
-The Rule- Matt says with a chuckle
-did you even took your introductory course when you joined?
-there's a course?- the strain in my voice, I wish I could do something about it, Shannon sights
- you see... long ago we decided that we were tired of being killed by the odd villan or hero with loose morals so we (the families of both factions) all sat down and decided that we were all going to be friends, they all hate it-
-but they love us more- interrupts the blonde raising her glass
-so at least you want every super powered people on the planet behind you I'll calm down and go and get Matt a new fridge, as for the gun Linda can get you your money back-
-No refunds dear-
-well I'm still taking the gun, I'm sure Duke has a docen of this, say is windstrike even weak againts this? - Matt mimics a key locking his lips - whatever-
I look around, my greatest plan (only plan) defeated even before it started
-oh don't feel bad The dealer, play your cards right and we can let you in the group, I'm sure we can convice them, we do need an errand boy- Matt winks at me -at the very least we wont ask them to kill you- he is no longer smiling, I just hope I have enough money for the fridge | 2020-07-12T11:14:56 | 2020-07-12T11:05:58 | 233 | 10 |
[WP] You are a superhero, and your mask has just been ripped off by your arch nemesis. Lucky for you, when you aren’t busy saving lives, you live as a hermit away from all of society. Having your identity revealed means next to nothing, and the villain has no idea who you are. | "Wait, you're *not* some crazy rich billionaire philanthropist, who chases women to appear aloof, but secretly runs the city?" The villain, known as the Getup, asks.
"No?"
"Then, who the hell are you?"
"I am, *Justice*!" I strike a heroic pose, fists on my hips, arms and elbows jutting out.
The Getup rubs his face, my domino mask loosely held in his hand.
"Yeah, yeah I get all that, but who the hell are you, really?" How can you afford this lifestyle?"
"Oh, my name is Dave, I *love* macrame, I have two cats Buster and Bernie, I write my mom twice a week."
"Look, Dave that's nice..."
I cut him off and point to the crossed gavels on my chest.
"I'm on duty. While I'm in duty, I'm known only as Justice. Please respect my boundaries, Maurice."
"Wait, what? How'd you know my name? You know what, nevermind. Let's get back to my original question. Who the heck are you?"
"I am Justice!"
"Moving past that, you don't live in the city." The Getup, getting frustrated, points out.
"Yeah, no. It's too crowded, too many people."
"So?"
"So what?"
"Where do you live?"
"Well, that's rather personal, isn't it?"
"That's the point! Look, most heroes in this city, **live** in the city. Take for example, Diverman. He lives over on 5th and Broadway. Stunner Sarah, she lives on Upton with her mom, but you live..." He shrugs his shoulders, unsure.
"You're an awfully nosy fella, you know that?"
"Moving past that. Who are you? Everybody had you pegged for Darius Ogdon. Clearly, you're not him."
"The billionaire who runs Ogdon Conglomerate?" I kick dirt at my feet. "Yeah, he's mean."
The Getup holds up a finger, intrigued by this latest bit of information. He fights his curiosity, but gives in.
"You know what? Forget it, nevermind." He hands me my domino mask. "Look man, free bit of advice? Use spirit gum. It helps keep the mask on so people like me can't yank it off." He waves his hand and mounts a brightly colored motorcycle and is gone in a cloud of dust.
"But I wasn't done with you." I mumble to the uncaring nothingness in front of me. | Through thin thin eggshell walls of the motel room, the voice of Paul Anka crooned about a slow dance as rain pattered against the windows. The floors needed to be steamed and the tile needed an extra mopping. The only nice thing that could be said was no bugs were spotted when the pair had burst through the door. The woman's sinewy legs wrapped around the costumed waist of the man. Her poison tipped claws were tossed to the side before her nails danced against his smooth cheeks. Their mouths closed together in a deep embrace that had required the man's preternatural sense to remain alert as he spun and stumbled drunkenly towards the bed.
The two enemies' mood had changed when Arkantos' mask was pulled away and Toxina gasped that her heroic rival, her nemesis. Her obstacle who had constantly foiled all her plans was a beautiful looking nobody. She had audibly gasped, her cheeks flush with color while her brass claws dipped in lethal poison were inches from his face. She could feel the warmth emanating in his hands as he had prepared to blast her from behind, his hands had been wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him that a flush of emotions had raced into the two enemies. The mood had quite changed as their affections carried them from their fight in the warehouse to the hotel bedroom where they snuggled together.
"I have to admit," Toxina said, her skin flushed after a closer embrace, "I thought I was going to be completely ambivalent when I pulled that mask off your face, Ark." She said. Her fingers were tipped by mere nails as she tapped his chest, "I had rehearsed the entire scene in my head. You were going to be some man-about-town, someone I had read in the papers, and then I'd think: Well, Toxie, you were right all along. This guy was so-and-so, or he's this yadda-yadda." She giggled before saying, "One of the few times you've left me completely speechless."
"Do you think all of the City's rich are costumes, Tox?" Arkantos asked, using the nickname that he often called her by. It usually was during the midst of a battle between Sorcerer and Assassin.
She shrugged, "A great deal of the city's rich are either supervillains or mob-bosses. I figure the other half of the prosperous were just fighting the other half. One of the things that I find *delicious* about you, my sweet, is now you're a mystery to me."
"You're still a mystery to me," Arkantos pointed out, "I take it your actual name isn't Tox. I could find out-" He was shushed by her finger against his lips. She rolled warm, fair digit along his moist lips to collect a touch of saliva which she then licked off, "Let's keep a little mystery here darling, by tomorrow will be fighting each other." Her emerald eyes narrowed dreamily as she looked him over. In the distance the muffled music continued to play against the rain. He smiled back at her, his arms wrapping behind her to draw her close to him. He asked: "Would you have really put those claws in me if you hadn't pulled my mask off?" Arkantos asked.
She yawned and nodded, "Would have poisoned you right as you blasted me. Probably have died together, if there is any romance in that."
He shook his head and said, "I don't think so, but then again, I dislike being a star crossed lover." He bit his lip and thought of how they might meet again. Two masks, or perhaps unmasked having to fight each other. His skin suddenly felt flush as he said, "How long can we keep this up?"
The rain had picked up its rhythm, battering against the glass while back by the wind. Toxina looked over, listening to rapid tapping before saying: "I think we can wait a little while long before we go back to business as usual." She said. | 2020-08-21T04:04:44 | 2020-08-20T23:13:29 | 399 | 126 |
[WP] you are a super hero/heroine. You've been captured by your nemesis so often that now you tend small talk while trying to escape or waiting for a rescue. Today's topic: the creepy fan mail you've BOTH been getting. | "Good, good," the menacing undertone piercing my groggy mind. "You are finally awake."
"Ugh," I murmured, still a little shell-shocked. I instinctively raised my right hand to rub at the sore, aching spot at the top of my head, only to run into the ever-so-familiar feeling of a restraint binding my wrists.
"That's..." I said. "Carrion?"
"Yes, yes," Carrion croaked. "Welcome, Zoi! How do you like my new place?"
"Welcome?" I asked. Lines, shapes, colour, slowly seeped back into my vision, and now, I could see the ragged plague doctor mask he had on his face. Warily, I scanned the room, finding it entirely devoid of life and light.
My eyes adjusted a little more. I stared past Carrion, now noticing the houseplant that stood beside the door.
"At least you took my suggestion about greening this place up a little," I noted. "Is that... a philodendron?"
Carrion looked back, as if he needed confirmation about a fixture in his own house.
"Yeah, yeah!" he said, surprising enthusiasm bursting forth from his gravelly voice. "I like it a lot. It does help the atmosphere, doesn't it?"
"It's not bad. And I see you fixed that wall as well," I jerked my head towards the left. The Band had previously busted in from that very wall, two months ago, to rescue me from a very similar situation.
"Mm, mm," Carrion nodded. Sadly, even. "It was pretty expensive."
"Well," I said. "I mean... you have to expect that."
"I do, I do," Carrion's head continued to bob like a buoy. "It's OK. I make enough money to get by."
"Steal," I corrected.
Carrion plainly ignored my question.
"I'm not going to pretend that I understand," I sighed. "You did beat me, which means you are only... what, 20 wins away from catching up to me?"
"No, no. 18," Carrion corrected.
"Fine, fine," I tried holding up my hands in defeat, before realizing they were still tied to the back of a metal chair. "18 it is. It'll be 20 soon enough."
"Ha ha, very funny," Carrion said. "Actually, Zoi, I have to ask--how do you deal with overzealous fans?"
"Overzealous fans?"
"Yea, yea," Carrion rubbed his chin. "You know, being a woman superhero. Basically the opposite of me. I'm sure you get a lot of creepy messages."
"Well... that's certainly true. Why?"
"Just... just receiving a lot of stuff, you know. Some creepy. Some hateful. It's really getting me down," Carrion said, the nose of his mask drooping dramatically.
"Hey, buddy," I said. "Nobody's going to like everything you do? Heck, I don't like what you do! People just do weird stuff when hiding behind anonymity, you know?"
We both stared at each other.
"You're right," he said. "People do weird things when they have masks on, don't they?"
"We do," I sighed. "We really do."
A roar of jet engines interrupted our conversation. We looked back at each other, knowing what was about to happen.
"Well, well," Carrion said. "So long then."
"Another time," I said. "I'll push that lead to 20 soon enough."
Carrion walked to the entranceway, opening the door. He petted the philodendro, surprisingly enough.
"Please," he said. "Please make sure this stays unharmed."
"You got it, Carrion," I nodded.
Then, the wall to the left of me bust open, and Carrion slipped away into the darkness.
---
r/dexdrafts | "Well, isn't this a familiar scenario?"
I shook the dizziness from my head, which only made it hurt more. I was pinned under several heavy crates and could barely move. Looking up, I began to mentally kick myself. It was such an obvious trap, but it had been just long enough since he had last used it. Just like last time, the Baron stepped from the shadows, dressed in an expensive looking suit and overcoat. His face was covered by the expressionless porcelain mask he always wore, but I could feel the smug smirk through it. He stooped to one knee and examined me for a moment.
"You know," he finally sighed "if I didn't know any better I might assume you were being this idiotic on purpose. I am honestly starting to run out of ideas for trapping you, which is quite the feat considering my intellect and your apparent lack of one."
"I'm just giving you a fair chance is all" I grumbled as I tested the weight on my back. It budged very little to either side so it was probably secured, or maybe it was just that much heavier.
"Besides," I gave a smirk of my own, "for such a difference in intellect, you've never actually gotten me for good, Baron."
The Baron tilted his head slightly at this. "If I had wanted you dead, Mr. Ultimate, trust me I would have done so by now. The truth is your feeble efforts have become rather amusing. You are no threat to my plans, you are the distraction from the more tedious parts of my enterprises."
"Yeah, I feel you," I tried to wiggle my arm free of its uncomfortable position, getting some leeway. "Speaking of things to be distracted from, how is the kid these days? I heard he's starting high school, probably a big deal for you."
The Baron gave a low sigh. "He's doing fine. Adjusting pretty well, actually. No, no, Silas has been rather well behaved recently."
"Hm. Is it work stress?" I grunted as I unsuccessfully tried a push up. "I wouldn't really know, but I'd imagine running such a major criminal empire as well as the legal front would be tiring." A long breath escaped me as I gave up on the push up.
The Baron looked at me, the glassy eyes of the mask betraying no emotion. "Mr. Ultimate I have been at this game since before you could crawl. No it's not work its..." He lifted his eyes for a moment, "something... weird. Weird for even someone of my caliber, Mr. Ultimate."
"Weird?" I frowned, or more specifically grimaced as I slowly extracted a leg from a particularly pointy metal crate. "Like, extraterrestrial weird? Or just an unexpected kinda weird?"
He shook his head slightly. "I don't know, just... never mind it. Besides, it's not as if telling you will make a difference. I might as well-"
"No,no,no! I'm helping you get to the bottom of this thing" I turned my gaze up and met the dead eyes of the mask. "Man to man. What's got you weirded out, Rob?" A sharp exhale answered that name, followed by a deep inhale and a sigh.
"Tell me, Aiden, you're the public's poster boy, you get praise sung to you from hundreds for simply getting a cat out of a tree. Surely you have most of the world chanting your name." The mask tilted slightly. "Did you ever have that odd fan? The kind that sends inane ramblings and utterly disturbing works of fiction to your addresses, be it home or work?"
"Yeah, I've had a couple. In fact, there was this one nutjob that kept dming these really messed up fanfics, most involving me. Actually, most involved you as well. Not too sure how they know about you, though, what with the secret society thing you have going on." I looked back up to see the Baron slowly removing the mask. I had obviously see his face before, but it was still a shock. He had a curious expression, almost that of recognition. Suddenly I began to clue in. What he had said about me having no intelligence was far from the truth, and both of us seemed to have a realization at the same time.
"No way," I muttered dumbfounded.
"Impossible" he mouthed at the same instant. A few dead silent moments of understanding passed before the two of us burst into laughter. I have to give the Baron credit. He may be a complete dirtbag who has tried to kill me on multiple occasions, but that laugh would've fooled me a million times over. After we had come down to the stray giggle or two, he chuckled,
"Of course I've already had a couple of my boys go to sort this mess."
"If I weren't such a paragon, I might not try to stop it this time."
The Baron snorted aloud as he began to fasten his mask back on. "Oh, then I think we are going to have a fun time of it tonight." I kicked out a supporting box and stood, the heap of metal collapsing to one side and lunged at him, a smile on my face. | 2020-10-28T04:53:11 | 2020-10-28T04:36:23 | 99 | 29 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | I touched down on my backyard, exhausted and disappointed that I let Dark Lord escape. Actually it wasn’t my fault, it was those two new heroes that wanted to help. I guess their parents don’t give a damn about them. With a snap of my fingers, my costume faded away, leaving my blue dress. I told Henry I was going out with my sisters, which wasn’t a total lie. I was hanging out with them until Dark Lord ruined girls’ night. Made sure my sisters made it to safety before I fought the bastard. I placed my car keys on the counter, remembering I left it at the bar. I might have to get that tomorrow.
I kicked off my heels and shuffled upstairs. I checked on the kids before I reached my room. Of course the older two snuck out. I groaned as I made my way to the bedroom.
“Henry, Josie and Miles-“
I stopped in my tracks as I watched in bewilderment the scene before me.
My husband, Henry, trying to remove a costume... the Dark Lord costume.
“Ellie... um... what do you think?” he asked, putting it back on.
“What is it supposed to be?” I asked, playing dumb.
“Something... to spice up the bedroom,” Henry growled, embracing me.
“A Dark Lord costume?”
“Yes...”
“Looks pretty legit-“
“Fine! Yes, I’m Dark Lord! I never was an accountant. You were just so beautiful I didn’t want to scare you off. Nobody would want me, you know? No jobs, nothing. I turn to a life of crime just to get us by. Until you got that job and brought in more money, but I was hooked with my new life I couldn’t stop. I’m so sorry Ellie,” Henry sighed and collapsed on the bed.
I was speechless. My archenemy... is my fun loving husband.
I sat beside him as he covered his face with his hands.
“If you want a divorce, I understand.”
“Why?” I asked, “You are a great guy, Henry. The children love you, and I love you too. Besides my plan was to capture Dark Lord... who knew I married him.”
“What do you mean?”
With the snap of my fingers, I changed to Witcher, “Tada.”
“What!” Henry sat up, “This entire time, you were Witcher?”
“I didn’t know you were Dark Lord, so we both had our secrets,” I told him.
“Oh my god, I was fighting with my wife,” Henry said.
We sat in silence. I think he was wrapping around the idea that his own wife was his archenemy, as I was trying to wrap around the same.
“But the people don’t know that,” I said.
“So, we just pretend?” Henry asked.
“Yeah, I guess. Does the kids now?” I asked.
“If you don’t know, do you think the kids now?” Henry scoffed.
“They don’t know about me either. Also, Josie and Miles snuck out,” I said.
“Yeah, I noticed that too. Was planning on changing and looking for them. Until you arrived,” Henry said.
“Do you need help?” I asked him.
“Please,” Henry said in defeat and got up.
I smiled as I removed Henry’s costume using my powers. Henry sighed in relief and stretched.
“I might want you to tweak my suit with you powers. It’s getting a little tight,” Henry said.
“Fine. Now let’s find the kids,” I said.
We both hurried down the stairs when we heard a swooshing sound, followed by chatter.
“What was that?” Henry whispered.
The front door opened as the two superheroes from before snuck into the house.
“I can’t believe Witcher let that dude escape,” the first one said.
“What are you talking about, you fucked up Miles!” the second one snapped.
“Shut up! Dad is a sleep.”
They both froze in the tracks when they saw us by the stairs.
“Mom, you’re home early,” the first one, Miles, said.
“We can explain,” Josie chuckled nervously.
“I see we aren’t the only ones with secrets,” Henry whispered to me as we waited for Josie and Miles’ explanation. | I do what I can. It’s not much, but it keeps the city safe. It’s been this way for years now--I fight off the muggers and thieves and super villains--and come home to my wife, Jenna, and our young twins, Liam and Nicole.
More often than not I’m exhausted. My left knee is bad after the fight with Polaris years ago. One more concussion and I’m sure I’ll have CTE. But it’s worth it, I think, to know that my kids are growing up in a city that’s safer than the one I was born into.
At least, I thought it was worth it.
Until tonight, when I trudged into my bedroom after a fight that lasted hours and took down half a city block in midtown.
Jenna was standing there, her hair all slicked back and her makeup smudged around her eyes. And she was struggling out of the ice-white and frozen-blue jumpsuit of Polaris.
My eyes narrowed. *No.* It couldn’t be. Could it? My hand tightened around the doorknob; the brass crunched in my palm. “Jenna,” I chocked out.
“You’re home.” Her voice was dead and hollow. She wiped her eyes and kept working her way out of the skin-tight suit.
“You--you,” I stammered. My words wouldn’t form right. “It’s *you*.”
“Of course, it’s me. Who else would I be?”
I kept staring at her, not know what else to do. How had I not seen it? All along, she’d been right next to me. “Jenna.”
“Where were you,” she said. Her bottom lip quivered. “I told you I had something planned and you just took off again. I left Liam and Nicole with my mother for this.”
And, with that, something inside me snapped. I stepped forward and snarled. “How big of you.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
“*You* don’t know how much longer *you* can take this?” How dare she. How dare she pretend to care. “What about me? God. I thought I could trust you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jamie.”
I chuckled dryly. “You’re good. I’ll give you that. But it’s time I put an end to this all.”
Jenna stepped back. “Jamie,” she whispered, “you’re not making any sense. You don’t look well. Why don’t you get some sleep, okay? We can talk about this in the morning.” She pushed the rest of the Polaris outfit down to the floor and pulled a cotton t-shirt from the dresser.
“Jenna. I can’t let that happen. You know I can’t.”
“Well, you can sleep on the couch then.”
I stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “You’re coming with me--straight to the jail. You’ll have to get used to sleeping on a cot. I imagine you won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
Jenna tried to yank her wrist away, and for a split second, I tightened my grip. But then I released it as quickly as I had started. The last thing I needed was a frozen palm.
But then Jenna quirked her head and her mouth twisted into a wicked smile. “You’re gonna take me to jail, hmm? Big strong man?”
“Yes. You’re coming with me.”
She ran her finger over my chest and leaned in toward my ear. “Make me.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “This isn’t funny, Jenna.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “I wasn’t *trying* to be funny. I was trying to be sexy. You--you leave me. All the time. It’s hard not to feel like a boring old mother all the time. God forbid I try to have some *fun* once in a while. But whatever.”
She pulled a makeup wipe off the counter and rubbed it over her eyes. “I thought this would be fun. I mean, you’ve been obsessed with Hyrdo Man for as long as I’ve known you. And then I tell you I have a special plan and you first run off to God knows where, and second, refuse to play along.”
Wait. I bit my lip. “This was just a game?”
“It’s called roleplaying, Jamie."
*Oh.* “Oh.”
She eyed me. “Unless you don’t want to be Hyrdo Man… you want to be *with* him?”
My face burned. “No--no. Uh, that’s not it.”
“Sure.” Jenna crawled into our bed and pulled her book off the nightstand. "You've been so distant lately... but then I go to all this effort and you run off without so much as a text. How hard is it to say 'hey, I'm going to be a few hours late'?"
"I'm sorry, Jenna. I know I've been distant. I've been a flake. But I'm *trying*. I really am."
"I know." She sighed. Her lips turned down in a frown and her brown eyes glittered with a watery sheen. “I still think it’s best if you sleep on the couch tonight.”
I swallowed. “Sure. I guess."
"I need more, Jamie," she said softly.
My voice cracked. "I know." But I didn't know if I could be the one to give her what she needed.
---
r/liswrites | 2020-10-30T12:00:19 | 2020-10-30T11:36:36 | 268 | 104 |
[WP]Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord. | .
Jake saw a darkly robed figure riding a worn horse up the path to his barn. The dragon belched behind Jake. Jake grated "Eggard, I told you that was impolite." The dragon's eyes swiveled side to side in embarrassment.
The robed man halted his horse at what some might think could be the reach of a dragon's flame. It was not a particularly hard distance to guess since Eggard had seared the tufts of grass as they spun a pig on the barbecue spit. The pork was nearly done cooking and smelled delicious.
Jake asked, "Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes," said the man on the horse. "I'm here about the dragon."
Jake searched the robed man's face, "You should go on to town, it's the path over there." He pointed to the right of the dappled prairie, "head toward that big oak and you'll see the path meets the main road to town. That path has been beaten down, across my good oats, by armed heroes practically every day the past month. All those burned patches in the hay field is where they kept attacking us from. And these demon worshiping people from the big city brawled with the heroes and the heroes killed them all over there, and then the heroes came at my farm again. I can't have all that, too many chores as it is. And now I'm just out here making dinner on the barbecue."
"No, no," he held up his hand, "I'm not here for any of that nonsense. I'm here because there seems to be a shortage."
"Shortage of what?"
"I went through the books and you have all your taxes paid on your horse, perhaps one less pig? and those chickens I see free ranging over there -- hard to count with them moving about but even with that error you are ok."
Jake took a breath, "Of course, I pay all my taxes, have for years, before the deadline. I don't want all the king's men out here auditing me with spears."
"True, that is something we don't want. ... But I saw no tax payment for this dragon."
Jake almost blurted something out of anger, but he paused. He was not a numbers wizard but he knew the taxes came on the livestock. Eggard was not livestock. He was more of a dog. "Do I need to pay tax on my dog?"
"Certainly not on a dog. They protect a household, give companionship, they are not generally income producing unless you are running a puppy mill and selling dogs to everyone in town."
"No. I'm not selling puppies."
"Good. Then let's get back to this dragon you have."
Jake thought for a moment, "As you can see, this dragon protects not just my home but my farm. Look at all those burning bodies down the ravine there and the ones trying to run away over there, and the ones praying with the demon fanatics down there by the hollowed out corn field." Around the bodies were streaks of popped kernels like driven snow among the soot and ash.
"Oh, yes, yes. I see. Quite the carnage. Those heroes and worshipers are certainly numerous."
"So you can agree that he protects me just like a dog. And dogs are not taxed, correct?" Jake was hopeful. If a chicken was a copper piece in tax, a pig a silver, and a cow a gold piece he did not want to know what the kings tax collectors assumed a dragon tax should be.
"You are right about no taxes on dogs. But --" the man squeezed his lips together in a grimace, "but I heard this dragon of yours was born from a chicken egg."
Jake looked at Eggard. The dragon looked nothing like a chicken. He returned his gaze to the robed man, "Does the dragon look like a chicken?"
The man sighed, glancing again at the field of freshly torched bodies for a moment, "You know, I have to go back to the tax group with some sort of payment. You are positive the dragon hatched from a chicken egg?"
"I was about to make it for breakfast, in fact." Jake made the motions of cracking an egg over a frying pan, "Like this, but it didn't break right away. I thought that was odd. So then I tried to bang it harder and still it resisted breaking. In frustration I threw it in the fire because the fire was handy, that was my last egg until the next day, and ... this little guy popped out of the shell."
"That is really odd. Perhaps you should keep your chickens penned up and not let them free range?"
"That might be a good idea, now that you mention it."
"Well," the man leaned back in his horse, "The tax group is expecting we figure out this situation. I think if you give me the tax on a chicken, because this dragon hatched from a chicken egg, then you shall be square with the king."
Jake asked, "You can give me a receipt? I don't want a new tax collector next year to doubt our understanding."
The tax collector pulled out his book of receipts and made a note in his log and the receipt he handed to Jake. Jake dug out a copper piece to give the man.
The tax collector nodded, "Thank you farmer Jake. Good luck with your hero infestation, and enjoy your dinner." He turned his horse and left by the long path.
. | FADE IN:
INT. A HUMBLE HUT -- SUNNY
*One man sits at the head of the table, head in his hands. This is FARMER. He is dressed simply, streaks of dirt decorating his face and arms.*
**FARMER:** My family name is literally Farmer. I farm. My father and his father before him farmed on this very piece of land.
*To his left, a disgruntled knight in bulky silver armour sat. This is GIDEON. A woman used to more spacious accommodations, she constantly fiddles with the sword in its sheath, trying to find a comfortable position to sit still. She slams the table when she hears Farmer's words, however.*
**GIDEON:** So you admit your nefarious plot has been ongoing for generations?
*To Gideon's left, a mysterious figure sits. This is the mysterious CULTIST, face entirely shrouded with a prominently hooded black cloak. It's impossible to tell who, or what they are--but the voice that emerges is immediately unsettling.*
**CULTIST:** Beware how you speak, knight. This is the Dark Lord you are talking to.
*Farmer sighs.*
**FARMER:** Like I said--
*Farmer is interrupted rudely as a gigantic yellow eye appears in the window to the left of the cultist. This is the DRAGON, whose immense bulk meant that he had to be left outside. Gideon inadvertently recoils, while the Cultist erects himself with reverence.*
**DRAGON:** Say the word, master. And I shall burn them all to the ground.
**FARMER:** No! No burning! Just let me speak.
*An impossibly cute, puppy-like whine emerges from the humongous creature. The eye disappears from view.*
**GIDEON:** Monster.
**CULTIST:** Saviour.
**FARMER:** He's just a pet. OK? A big one.
*Both Gideon and the Cultist scoffs.*
**GIDEON & CULTIST:** You must be joking.
*The pair looked at each other, a gaze that indicates both reaching a brief state of understanding.*
**GIDEON:** She must be destroyed.
**CULTIST:** She must be worshipped.
*The brief state of understanding is quickly shattered. The duo lean closer together, and their hands both slowly move towards their side.*
**FARMER:** Look. The dragon was born here on this property. She's mine.
*Gideon continues to stare at the cultist, but briefly turns to Farmer.*
**GIDEON:** I do not want trouble here. If you insist, I'll have to kill you.
**CULTIST:** Kill the Dark Lord? Your opinion of yourself is far exaggerated.
*Gideon and the Cultist rise from their seats ever so slightly. Farmer cuts it out quickly, banging his hand on the table.*
**FARMER:** If you two do not stop it, I'll have the dragon burn you two to a crisp.
*A titanic growl can be heard from outside. The two concerned parties quickly shrink back into their seats.*
**FARMER:** (*cont'd*) The two of you have been saying a lot of things about killing and threat and danger and what not. So, hear me when I say this--I don't care. Actually, you know what? Dragon?
*The dragon's eye appears again.*
**DRAGON:** Master?
**FARMER:** What do you think of these kind visitors' opinions that you are very dangerous?
**DRAGON:** I am extremely dangerous. I can burn things just by breathing on them.
*Gideon shrugs her shoulders, plainly saying 'I told you so.'*
**FARMER:** OK. Fine. Sure. You know what?
*Farmer stands up suddenly, running towards the door. Before Gideon and the Cultist get halfway through their springing up motion, but before they could reach Farmer, the two can hear the roaring of a dragon.*
**FARMER:** (*cont'd*) You can burn anything really fast, right?
**DRAGON:** Of course.
**FARMER:** Screw this land. Whatever. My father never reared a dragon. You know that little patch of forest outside of this kingdom's jurisdiction?
**DRAGON:** Not exactly. But you know it, and I can fly high in the sky.
**FARMER:** Good. Take me there. I've heard good things about slash-and-burn agriculture.
**DRAGON:** As you wish.
**FARMER:** Will be good to send some haze this goddamn kingdom's way as well.
*The powerful beats of a dragon's wings causes the house to shake dramatically, while Gideon and the Cultist holds on to the table. Three, four, five, six, and it grows gradually more quiet, leaving the pair still partially standing at the table.*
**CULTIST:** OK. That wasn't the best outcome. But not the worst, either.
**GIDEON:** ... This is of the gravest threat. A dissident and a dragon gone rogue. I must send our armies at once.
*The Cultist holds their hands up high. They are ridiculously pale.*
**CULTIST:** Good luck, ma'am. I might be in a cult, but there's no way in hell I'm going to that dragon and probably seeing hell right after.
**GIDEON:** You might be in a terrible cult, but that is a valid point. So, what? We each report to our higher-ups that they escaped to another continent?
**CULTIST:** Sure. I don't want to die so young.
**GIDEON:** Reasonable take. I mean, I can chop you down right now. Save some trouble.
*Gideon pulls the sword ever so slightly out of the sheath.*
**CULTIST:** You think I don't have a death curse on me?
*Gideon puts the sword back in hastily.*
**GIDEON:** Well. It's not a dragon's breath, but still.
**CULTIST:** I think we'll just have to learn to deal with a little haze. You can just say we are worshipping the sun to make it stronger and burning the forest, or something. You'll figure something out. Crackpot theories a plenty.
**GIDEON:** The King's experimenting with focusing sunlight into weapons. That could work.
**CULTIST:** Right. Farewell then. Until some other time?
**GIDEON:** I'll run you through with a sword yet.
**CULTIST:** And I'll hex you into a frog. But at least it's not dragonfire.
*Gideon nods furiously.*
**GIDEON:** At least it's not dragonfire.
FADE TO BLACK
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-03-21T15:06:08 | 2021-03-21T13:10:16 | 281 | 128 |
[WP] Your parents are ordinary people, so you thought, yesterday you and your father found your mother's old villain costume, he told you he already knew but to not tell your mother. Today you find your father's hero costume and at that moment your mother enters the room. | “Please don’t tell your father about me,” mom says as she sits gingerly upon the edge of her bed. She keeps a gnarled, arthritic hand on her cane for comfort and traces the other along the sleek lines of the scarlet dress she’d worn when she was my age.
“I think he’d understand,” I say, playing with the hem of her old dress. It was quite short, even by modern standards. Dad had clearly understood that very well.
“Oh no, there’s no chance,” mom says. “No chance at all. Not a good man like him.”
“That’s why he’d understand,” I say but she shakes her and settles her hands back into her lap, casting furtive glances back at the piece of fabric and the matched sword I’d brought out of storage.
I hate when mom doesn’t remember. We’ve been through this whole song and dance before. I’ve shown her the entries from own diary about the night when, after both of them had finally seen each others hero and villain costumes, dad had hidden her dress and a second wedding ring under the sheets of their bed. I’ve shown her the pages stained by her own tears, the ink running places, when she wrote about her in her dress, him in his bodysuit, and me in my trainee’s uniform, reenacting my flower girl part from years long past as they renewed their vows. I’ve shown her pictures of them at conventions forty years past truly fitting into their uniforms, their arms wrapped happily around each other.
It’s the worst part of dementia, and yet somehow I keep trying, hoping another experimental treatment will work, testing it with her dress or dad’s bodysuit, or conjuring up imps and golems of my own. More often than not she’s forgotten all of it, save for her fear.
“He can’t know,” she says. “Please Rachel, he can’t. He would, he’d…I love him too much.”
Mom’s eyes start welling up with tears, her breath coming fast and jagged now. I fold up the dress and place it in its box next to dad’s suit, and then I hug her, whispering over and over that it will be all right, that dad loves her more than anything and that I do too.
Her hand slips off the cane, the feet on its base keep it standing. I wait for her touch upon my shoulder or back, but it does not come.
“Mom?” I say, leaning back.
“Rachel, is something wrong?” she asks. “Why am I crying?”
I give myself three deep breaths to recover. I stroke her bony shoulder more for my own comfort than hers, and kiss her on the top of the head.
“It’s nothing mom, don’t worry about it.”
“It doesn’t feel like nothing.” She begins to tremble.
“Shh, mom, shh…” I whisper, squeezing her as tight as her body is able to handle as I declaim the words of a soothing spell that does not come naturally to my darker leaning powers.
Her eyes droop and I lay her back into bed.
“Don’t tell your father,” she says, before falling asleep. I promise I won’t.
That night I tell my father.
“She forgot again, dad,” I say. “It’s really hard, it’s really, really hard and I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right. She can’t even remember that you found her dress!”
The soft evening breeze rustles the treetops. Its cold, but not unseasonably so. “I feel so helpless.”
Then I lay the flowers I carry upon his grave, and I lay my forehead against the chill marble headstone, smoothing out the hem of the dress I wear. It’s much like mom’s, though perhaps not as short. Sometimes people run side by side photos of mom and I in the papers, they say the resemblance is uncanny.
Right now, I’d settle for any resemblance at all.
“She doesn’t feel like mom anymore,” I whisper.
Only the breeze whispers back.
“Bye dad. I love you.” Then I stand and turn back to the house they’d shared, and the single light on in the second floor bedroom meant for two, whose stairs were a near unsurmountable obstacle that mom would never admit defeat to.
When I get back in and go to say goodnight, she recognizes my dress and think its her own, and the process begins again.
r/TurningtoWords | "Put that back!" She said, eyes wide as she quickly looked behind her into the hallway.
For being secretive, they really don't pay that much attention to where they hide these things.
"What is this? Isn't this... Mr. M's suit?" I asked, recognising the insignia.
"Your dad, ah, likes to cosplay."
"Cosplay?" I asked, my blood running cold as I thought of the implications. They knew each other's secrets, but they were keeping it from me? No, more like they didn't know that they each knew the other's secret.
"Well, it's embarrassing. And I don't think you need to know this, but it's part of our foreplay. He likes to put that when we—"
"No! Ew! I don't believe you! He's really Mr. M, isn't he?"
She turned to look down the hallway again, nervous.
"Yes, but we got to keep it a secret. He doesn't know that I know. That we know."
"You're both so stupid."
"Hey!"
"Do you know where he left this?" I asked, waving the suit in front of her. She quickly stepped into the room and locked it behind her.
"No, where?" She asked.
"Literally under a floorboard underneath my bed."
"Ah, is that where?" She asked, and I could see beads of sweat forming in her forehead. Of course she was sweating. That was where she hid *her* suit, as well. Except she hid hers under a different floorboard.
On two occasions I had tried to pry open a loose floorboard safe to stash my weed, and on both occasions I had found my parent's old suits instead.
"Yes, that is where. When did you find out, anyway?" I asked.
"Find out what?"
"That dad is Mr. M?"
"Oh, long before we were married."
"But you still... Married him?"
"He's a sweet man. A bit daft, but I guess so was I."
"Still are."
"Hey, watch it. Put that back where you find it and forget you ever saw it. And come down for dinner." She said sternly before leaving the room. I looked at the bright orange suit that belonged to Mr. M, my father. And shook my head.
[[][][][][]]
The next morning mom headed out for her work. And dad, being a web developer, went to his 'office', which was just his man cave, and started typing away at his computer.
"Hey, are you busy?" I asked, entering his room.
"Of course not. This job is a joke. Never be a programmer, kid." He muttered cheerfully, eyes still glued to the screen.
"Err, I don't intend to. But, about mom..."
Dad spun around in his chair, fully paying attention now.
"What about mom?"
"Well, it's been bugging me. Did you knew who she was before you were married?"
"Of course I knew."
"But you still married her?"
"People make mistakes. She's a beautiful, caring woman who just happened to have powers she couldn't control and ended up doing bad things for people she thought she could trust. Is that what you're worried about? Your mother being evil?"
"No. I mean, I don't know. It's such a weird concept. Mom being a bad person before. I don't really know how to process it."
"Hey, now, kiddo. It's alright. Anything you want to discuss about, I'm here with you. The person she was isn't the person she is now. Always remember that. She's a good person."
"I think we should tell her we know. I don't like keeping this kind of secret."
My father regarded me, his mind working. He sighed, shaking his head.
"I don't know buddy. That will be a difficult conversation. It'll change all of our lives."
"You're the one who tells me to rip the bandage out to get things done with rather than letting them fester."
"I did say that, didn't I? But this isn't your typical bandage, buddy. But you're right. It's bad to keep things secret within the three of us." He said, resigned and smiling.
I did not know what game I was playing, but that night I was sitting on the curb, waiting for my mom to return. To talk to her before she set foot in the house. To explain to her like I explained to my dad.
And she was more receptive. She seemed to think my dad would figure out she knew he was Mr. M eventually and that we should come forward before he found out himself. She ruffled my hair, told me I was a good kid for doing this, and we went into the house.
My heart was pounding as we sat down for dinner.
[[][][][][][]]
"So, the kid and I talked." My dad started, swallowing the spoonful of rice.
"Yeah?" My mom asked, a little nervous.
"I think it's time we told you we already know."
"Oh, thank god!" My mom said, smiling, her eyes glistening a little.
"Wait, you already knew that we know you're Nightress?" My dad asked, confused at her reaction.
But at the mention of her old name, my mom gasped, eyes wide again.
"You know I'm Nightress?" She asked.
"Wait, that's not what this is about?" My dad balked.
"What? When did you know?" She asked, breathing heavily.
"Since before we were married, honey." My dad explained, reaching across the table to take her hand in his.
But my mother turned sharply look at me.
"I think you should tell him, too, mom." I muttered.
"Tell me what?" My dad asked.
"Tell you that we know you're Mr. M." My mother whispered, looking back to my father, who's eyes widened as well.
"You guys sort this out." I said, genuinely not wanting to be part of whatever discussion was about to happen. I took my uneaten plate and headed up to my room
More significant things were on my mind. Like how chicken fried rice would taste like when I was high. And judging by how the night would go, I'd finally have the floorboards to myself to hide my weed. | 2021-05-29T06:21:46 | 2021-05-29T05:57:25 | 699 | 483 |
[WP]In your dream, a strange man conversed with you: "I offer you a gift, what would you like?" "A dragon!" "That's not realistic." "Fine, I want a boyfriend then." But the next day you wake up to a dragon with care manual instead. | I looked back and forth between the dragon, a glorious pink and gold beast the size of a large dog, and the manual, entitled "Care and Feeding of the Modern Dragon."
"I, uhh." I opened the apartment door wider and the dragon primly stepped inside. I followed.
She - I was sure she was a she - curled up in between the television and couch and looked up at me expectantly. I say heavily on the couch and stared, dumbfounded.
"Well shit," I said. "Now what?"
She cocked her head at me as if to say "why are you asking me?" and nudged the book in my left hand. Shrugging, I opened it.
"Congratulations!" it read, "you have been chosen to be the lifelong companion of a real DRAGON!
"Dragons live for a very, very long time, so this is quite a commitment, to be sure! It is VERY important that you UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES touch your chosen dragon if you do not feel capable or willing to meet this commitment."
I froze, having been idly scratching the dragon behind the spines on her head.
Eyes wide, I continues reading. "Physical contact seals the bond between dragon and human, binding them together for life. If you are comfortable with this prospect, you may touch your dragon now."
I realized I had not stopped scratching, but I turned the page and read on, fascinated.
"If you are reading this, CONGRATULATIONS again! You have successfully pair bonded with your dragon companion! This status brings with it many benefits, including the ability to understand High Draconic and to both understand and speak Low Draconic. Other benefits include a linked lifespan. Neither you nor your companion need worry about outliving the other. You will come to learn more through your centuries together. Welcome, new Dragonkin."
I blinked. The book contained much, much more, but I couldn't cope. The dragon, sensing how overwhelmed I was, laid her head in my lap.
[My name is Rosegold,] she said into my mind, [and I have chosen very, very well.] | I didn’t know weather to be scared, confused, or offended, but before I could feel anything I saw the book. It was a care manual on how to care for dragons with what I could access as a human, but their was a note attached to it, “I made sure he was your type *winky face*,” oh I get it now.
I open the first page of the book and read it.
Chapter 1: human form
Your dragon should most likely be asleep right now, luckily for you your dragon should be able to fit in your room. Before he can go into human form you must wake him first, gently rub his snout and he should slowly stir awake, once he sees you he should turn into his human form on his own.
Ok then, I do as the book says and he wakes up, he takes a look at me and then transforms into a human, he had brown skin the tone of chocolate, and fiery red hair with orange highlights, his eyes were as green as emeralds with ten times the luster, then I realized he had no clothes. I turn away as my face goes bright red, “honestly what did I expect.” He grabs me by my shoulders gently most likely because I freaked out and he couldn’t tell why, I backed away with my face still red and turned away from him. He slowly looks down at himself and looks back as me and speaks, “clothes?” “W-What” “clothes please” “oh right, I-I’ll be right back, stay here.” He sits down on my floor as I run to get him some clothes. I come back with some of my brothers clothes, “here try these on” he puts on the clothes, “they fit fine, a little small though.”
Well this is going to be fun, I pick up the manual again to pick up where I left off. When then places his head on my shoulder and starts to make a purring noise, what is happening. I mean- I wasn’t fighting it, but I was so confused, I open the book back with his head still on my shoulder, it says here that this is one of many ways dragons show trust and affection to new people. Ok I start to calm down a bit, then he speaks again, “you smell nice” I basically explode.
I start to ask him a few questions once he gets off of me, “uh do you know why your here?” “To be with you yes” “ do you want to be, w-with me I mean?” “Well my first life wasn’t very nice and-“ he brings his face closer to mine “you seem nice” his face keeps getting closer “Umm I-I don’t think what you want to do mean w-what it means to me” “I know much more about humans than you think.” “I…um.”
Just then my mom ruins the moment, “sweetheart! Time to get up,” I honestly don’t know if I was grateful or angry about that anymore, at the moment I was just thinking nothing but,”Damn if my mom finds this boy she doesn’t in my room wearing my brothers clothes, i don’t even know what’s going to happen.” I tell him to stay there, and wait till I come back so I can try and sneak him out the window, later.
It’s been a whole 2 or 3 years since that’s happened, and we’ve been together ever since, and still I always find it funny, that guy in my dream told me a dragon was unrealistic, but a dragon boyfriend sounds even more ridiculous, but who the hell am I to complain about an amazing thing. | 2021-07-17T20:40:12 | 2021-07-17T19:44:42 | 214 | 28 |
[WP] The superheroes and supervillains are angry with you because you help them both but they can't kill you because you're too valuable. You remind them, "look, I'm a doctor with healing powers following the medical code, it doesn't matter who my patients are! Stop whining about it!" | I stand next to Dr Wesley, clipboard in hand, as he looks over his next patient.
"3rd degree burns across the body, 5 broken ribs and a dislodged collarbone, plus broken legs from falling off a skyscraper after losing consciousness." I start scibbling with practiced strokes. "Oh, and cancerous lungs from smoke inhalation."
I look up. "So, diagnosis Fireblast?"
Dr Wesley meets my gaze, peering over the rim of his glasses. "Yup. The collarbone gave that away, eh?"
Chuckling to myself, I tear the sheet of paper out of my clipboard, attaching it to Indigo's bed. Meanwhile, Dr Wesley starts working his magic, weaving strands of mana across the patient's body. Soon enough, Indigo is peacefully snoring under the sheets.
"There we go. He'll be up in around 4 to 5 hours. You should set the timer." I fiddle with the clock on the bedside table, before taking my leave behind my sensei's retreating back.
Catching up to him, we leave Ward 23, heading back towards the doctor's office where I have secretarial work to do.
"Isn't this only the 3rd time Indigo has come in this week?" Dr Wesley breaks the silence. I stop for a beat, before flipping through the records on my phone. "It is. He got tangled up with Miss Tako on Monday, and then demolished The Hunter on Wednesday. If this keeps up he'll be setting a record for the least admissions in a week."
Dr Wesley nods in thought. "Demolished, eh? Were those his words?"
"Uh-huh. Somehow he was still conscious when they brought him in. The Hunter is supposed to be one of the strongest of the League, so I guess he wanted to do a bit of bragging." I shrug. I didn't really mind the bragging. The entire reason I had taken this job as Dr Wesley's assistant was because I wanted to meet these superhumans, the members of the Superhero Syndicate who always strived to protect society from the evils of the League.
To me, they were idols who had defended humanity, and I wanted to repay them in my own way.
But Ward 23, the department that handled superhumans, didn't only cater to heroes. And I was honestly a little mad about that. "Dr Wesley, I have a question."
"Ask away, kid."
I bite my lip tentatively. "I like the idea of helping the heroes, but why do we also help people like Destructo, or that Moon Lord guy? They're villians who wreck havoc on society. Surely it's not morally right to assist them, right?"
Dr Wesley is silent. I can almost see the gears churning in his head. Will I get a wisecracking answer, or a serious one?
"I guess you could say it's not." So a serious answer it is. "At the same time, as doctors, we also have to follow the Medical Code of Ethics, and whatever that oath the Greeks used to follow. It's just part of the healthcare industry, yknow."
Interesting. I suppose it made sense.I wasn't medically trained, so I had no idea about these kinds of things. But it did make sense that doctors should not be partial in giving help to the wounded.
As I mulled over Dr Wesley's words, we walk into his office. Dr Wesley immediately plops himself down behind his desk, and motions to me to close the door. After I comply, he chuckles.
"I hope you didn't think what I said out there was true."
"What?"
"You did, eh? The director of the hospital was walking by just now, and I had to give a satisfactory answer. I hope you will forgive me for lying to you."
I swallow my shock. "Wait. So why do you help villians again?"
"Money. Have you seen the exorbitant fees we charge these people? Super healing is much more expensive than conventional medicine, and these people need it. It helps so much that they all come in like once a day because of all the fighting."
My jaw is ajar. Dr Wesley doesn't seem to notice. "Who do you think funds the League of Villians? Who keeps making huge donations to the Syndicate after the government cut their support last year? It's all a system, my dear, and we're the ones reaping the benefits. Don't look so shocked. It's just part of the healthcare industry, yknow." He gives me a sly wink.
I think my mentor is the real villian in Ward 23.
.
.
.
For non-extortionist stories and entertainment, check out r/17Stories | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 4, Part ?: Asclepius v.s. The Unified Sovereignties' Healthcare System)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**My daughter was bleeding out, and there was only one person who could save her.** I'd known Asclepius from my days as a superhero—everyone had. She'd made waves with her stand of principle, healing anyone who came to her, free of charge, no matter how twisted their crimes or noble their deeds. She'd made enemies and allies galore, but one thing was certain: Asclepius always healed. The stars could fall, the seas could boil, but Asclepius would always be waiting in her humble urban home, place a hand on the forehead of the afflicted, and they would walk away, leaving their injuries behind.
So I was rather confused when, upon arrival at Asclepius' home, I was greeted by a bored-looking intern with a form in his hands.
Credit where credit is due, the intern at least took one look at my bleeding daughter and called for the nurses. I looked around what used to be my old friend's living room, now transformed into a sterile, antiseptic waiting room. Various people sat or stood in various states of disrepair along the sides; the room was packed nearly to the brim.
"Ma'am, please hand us the patient," a white-robed nurse said, trying to grab Janice from my arms.
"Where's Asclepius?" I snapped. "My daughter is dying. She should be here. She's the only one who can save her."
"With all due respect, ma'am, we'll be the judges of that. If we can heal your daughter through conventional medicine, instead of through a rare and limited resource, then that is what we will do. Now give us the patient before her condition worsens."
I relented—what else was I to do? But... no, things still weren't right. Tupperman walked in behind me, nervously glancing at the cameras in the corner of the room—the former supervillain's habits died hard.
"Don't worry," I murmured. "Nobody's going to start a fight in Asclepius' home."
"Clara... I..." Tupperman looked around at the attendants, the forms, the clipboards, the advertisements for health insurance on TV. "I'm not so sure that this *is* Asclepius' home anymore."
"Ma'am?" The intern held out a sheet of paper. "Please fill out your intake form."
"Intake for—for God's sake, man, Asclepius doesn't need intake forms. She's healed people from far worse than what my daughter got; just let her do what she does best."
"We are," the intern said. "Asclepius is currently with Savret Hospital, healing the patients who are most demonstrably in need. If you believe our level of healthcare to be insufficient, you can apply for intake there."
"This isn't—this isn't right," I snapped. "Asclepius heals *everyone* who comes to her."
The intern sighed. "Right, you're one of those. Here, we have pamphlets."
"*Pamphlets?!*"
The intern all but tossed one at me, as well as the intake form. I slapped them out of the air, but Tupperman caught them.
"Uh, Clara?" Tupperman skimmed the pamphlet, then doubled back, eyes wide. "You might... you might want to see this."
"I don't want to see what that man's damn pamphlets have to—"
"*Clara.*"
Tupperman used the tone of voice he normally reserved for uppity so-called "superheroes" who were just looking for an excuse to let out violence. I took that as a hint and settled down. He handed me the pamphlet, and I glared at the section he pointed out.
*Asclepius' powers are potent, but limited. She can cure any illness, mend any harm—but only to those she touches. As such, we at Savret Hospital have devoted our infrastructure to locating only those who are most in need of her premium healthcare services, and devoting Asclepius' energies to where they are of maximal use. If you would like to fund our administration, Savret Hospital accepts donations...*
I hissed. "They—they *privatized* Asclepius? She—she would never let them do that. She's stood up to all the pressures so far. All the superheroes and supervillains in the world—"
"—are nothing compared to the force compelling her now." Tupperman wrinkled his nose. "The Unified Sovereignties healthcare system."
My stomach dropped. "But... if Asclepius isn't even here..."
Tupperman grabbed my arm. "Hey. Janice is a fighter. She'll pull through."
I stared at the door they'd taken my daughter through, fists clenching and unclenching. I'd been a superhero when I thought the main threats to the world were things I could punch with my fists—then a politician, when I realized words were far more potent weapons than any superpower could ever be. But throughout all my career, I'd never been *helpless* like this. There had always been something I could do.
And then it hit me.
"Wait here," I said, handing the intake form to Tupperman.
He blinked. "What are you doing?"
"The only thing I can!" I shouted.
And I ran out into the streets of Califerne to find an old friend.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-08-01T09:49:48 | 2021-08-01T09:24:46 | 581 | 111 |
[WP] Humanity has finally achieved FTL travel. They can now explore the universe and find other alien species, sapient or otherwise. To the consternation of Man, it turns out they’re all crabs. As a matter of fact, the interstellar community is quite disturbed we are not crabs. | *This post has been translated from Crustaceanese to English.*
"What the hell happened to its claws?", the Crab President inquired to his foremost interstellar species expert as he gazed upon the giant screen displaying a human male.
"They don't seem to have them, sir. I believe what they have instead are referred to as 'fingers'.", she responds.
"I see. So it fings with those things?"
"That's correct, sir."
"And just what does it mean to 'fing'?"
"You don't want to know, sir."
"I see. And why does this, what's it called again?"
"Human, sir."
"Right, human. Why does this human only have two legs? Was it mutilated by Space Seals?"
"Negative, sir. That's just how they walk."
"Walk?"
"It's like scuttling, sir. But forward."
"They scuttle forward?!"
"That's correct, sir."
"Astonishing! And this human here is mid-molt?"
"No, sir. Humans do not molt."
"Then where is its carapace? Where is its shell?"
"Inside, sir."
"Inside?! That's ludicrous! That offers you no protection whatsoever! Even a pointed wooden stick could damage you!"
"That's correct, sir. Humans are, in their own terms, quite 'squishy'."
"Is that why they wear that wiry helmet on their heads?"
"That's called 'hair', sir. We believe it is only used for status and mating purposes."
"Fascinating! And these squishy apes are the dominant species on their planet?"
"Correct, sir."
"But we seeded life in the galaxy with crabs. Are you trying to tell me there are no crabs on this planet?"
"Brace yourself, sir."
"For what?"
The display screen begins playing a movie of humans feasting on crabs. The sounds of their cracking exoskeletons reverberate throughout the room that's now been stunned into silence. Closeups of the humans as they devour the crab's meaty interiors produce gasps of horror. Food rolls down their bibs as they continue to shove more than can fit into their ravenous mouths.
The President's claws being to clack in fervor.
"Prepare the warships!" | Captain Hawthorne and his four crew members followed the Kilitonian (blue, short crab) through the various halls of the Galactic Capitol. He had to crouch a little bit, but not too much. He felt the eyes of the other species on them as they passed.
A Mynian (yellow, slender crab) shied away as they passed its store. An Igman (tall, purple-ish green crab) gave them a glance in passing, but continued on its way unperturbed.
The Kilitonian suddenly brought Captain Hawthorne back to reality by clapping his claws seven times with varying speeds. "Elevator." Hawthorne had learned pretty quickly to understand Galactic common speak. It was the equivalent to Morse code back on Earth.
They entered the elevator, which was able to hold all of them easily (crabs were wide and needed room).
They waited in silence as the elevator went higher and higher. Unfortunately , there were no windows to look out of. So the awkward silence went on. Then, a click and the doors opened into a beautifully enormous hall. Though the architecture was admirable and the designs wonderful, Hawthorne and his crew were simply pleased they did not need to bend over in this hall.
They were walking to the front of the room, to meet the Council, the designated leaders of the Galaxy, so as to formally introduce themselves as Humans.
The Kilitonian lead them to the front where there was a massive river flowing through the room, separating them from the other side, on which five crabs of varying length, height, color, eye shape, and claw size were standing.
Hawthorne and his men stood awkwardly. The Kilitonian then clacked his claws and motioned them forward. Hawthorne realized that what he thought was a small staircase was actually a podium.
Hawthorne walked forward and looked at the Council of Crabs. One of the councilpeople, the Bikinian, looked just like a small Mr. Krabs from Spongebob Squarepants.
They were staring at each other for some time, but no one clicked or clacked, so Hawthorne believed he was supposed to start first.
He raised his hands and clapped twice, "Hello."
The Five Councilpeople gave each other a glance, then all began rapidly clicking and clacking claws at once. They were clacking over each other and Hawthorne could not make out a single word. He stared and it appears as though his look of bewilderment translated easily to crab. The Council saw him and stopped.
He simply stood again and was about to clap when a massive horn went off through the Capitol. The council all backed away from their posts and down a side hallway on their side of the river.
Hawthorne turned to the Kilitonian and clapped his hands, "What's happening?"
The Kilitonian clacked his tiny, blue pincers quickly, "break time for the song of our people. They will return to speak to you after."
Hawthorne stood, bewildered, but accepting of the situation. He clapped his hands toward the Kilitonian again, "do we just wait here?"
"Yes" the Kilitonian clacked in response. "I will do my dance here, to show you in case you were wondering."
Hawthorne nodded his head to show understanding. And so they stood waiting. Then, a bell chimed and they heard music starting, and the Kilitonian began to [prepare to dance.](https://youtu.be/LDU_Txk06tM)
Hawthorne was too busy thinking about what to say when the council returned that he didn't really focus on the wild dance.
He just hoped Humanity would be able to fit in. | 2021-08-05T06:43:16 | 2021-08-05T06:05:05 | 1,041 | 211 |
[WP] You are the weakest member of a famous superheros family. Villains kidnapped you for a ransom, unfortunately hostage situations don't work when your family is already neglecting you... | John sat slouching in the corner of his cell thinking about his last meal. It had been two days now since he last saw his captors. They had slid a small tray of microwaved food into his cell and had mentioned going to check if his family had responded yet. He doubted they remembered.
A loud bang from the door down the hallway snatched John from the borders of sleep. Two of his captors marched past the bars of his cell carrying an unconscious man between them. As they were passing his cell one of them noticed him and paused causing the other to nearly trip forward as the man they were holding was pulled between them.
The one who noticed him had been called Harlow by the others. Peering into John’s cell Harlow said, “Hey this guy is still here.” Harlow’s brow furrowed as they continued past John’s cell.
Shuffling noises came from outside as the men opened the cell door at the end of the hall and wrestled with their new prisoner. After John heard them close and lock his new roommate inside they came back down to his cell and stared in at him pondering what to do.
“Can I please get some food. I’m starving.” John said.
They both frowned at him, but thankfully Harlow said, “Go get him some food Yanny. I’m gonna have a word with him.”
After Yanny left Harlow spent a couple minutes looking at his phone in silence. “Your family was supposed to pay your ransom yesterday, but our men haven’t reported receiving it yet.”
John said. “I told you they’d forget. We had this conversation last time you brought me food. They always forget about me.”
Harlow shook his head and said, “How can your family just forget about you? We told them we’d kill you if they didn’t pay. Don’t they care?”
John sighed in frustration and just stared at the ceiling questioning whether he wanted to have this endless conversation again. Yanny saved him from responding by returning with his tray of bland microwaved food. “I nearly forgot why I went out there. We are gonna have to get some more Hungry Man's. The freezer is almost empty.”
Harlow juggled the keys in his hands until he found the right one and opened the door to John’s cell. Yanny pushed in and placed the tray on the table just as Harlow’s phone began to ring. Harlow held his phone to his ear for a moment and simply said, “We are on the way.” Then put his phone back into his pocket. “Boss needs to be picked up. Wants us there now.”
Yanny and Harlow hustled down the hallway and left John sitting in his cell with the door wide open. John pushed himself to his feet and shook his head looking at the tray of food. He decided he’d rather stop at the taco truck on the way home.
John, The Most Forgettable Man, walked out of his cell. | “What… what the hell!”
I was roused to consciousness by the harsh screech of one of my captors. Opening my eyes, I was greeted to the same dark bag, or sack, or whatever it was they stuck over my head.
“We were supposed to get a payday from ‘em, Mac!” a deeper voice than before spoke.
Being groggy still, I tried moving my hands. It took me a moment to realize they were bound in a quite uncomfortable position behind my back. “What, you disappointed?” I cracked.
I heard a gasp before being hit over top the head. “So you’re awake, eh? Maybe you can explain this to us then?” As the first voice spoke, they grabbed me, turning me around and taking the thing obscuring my vision off my head.
In front of me sat an old, old CRT atop a rotting desk of sorts. Out the back, I could picture the mess of wires, tangled and melded together to form a completely incoherent mass.
On the screen, however, though the static, a news channel was on. The newswoman was nearly tripping over themselves, the camera following them shakily as they tried to catch up to someone.
“—you once more for your bravery, MissDirect! If you don’t mind, would you be open to a few quick questions?”
As the camera stabilized, I recognized my own mother appearing on the screen. Her costume was just as gaudy as ever, colored in gold accents and littered with glitter. How she never caused a car accident, I would never understand.
She shrugged. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”
“Thank you!” the lady said before heading into their first question. “Ever since the Meldbar meltdown a few months ago, you seemed to have disappeared from the crime-fighting scene. Do you have any comment as to why that is?”
“Just because you people don’t see me, doesn’t mean I’m not around!” MissDirect laughed. “I have been taking a step back, however, to properly take care of a few internal matters.”
“Oh? Would you be willing to share?”
“Not quite. All I can say is to be on the lookout in the coming months for some new talent!”
With a click, the image suddenly disappeared with a flash from the middle of the screen. Then, I felt a pressure on my shoulder and my head. I tried turning to see who it was, but their grip was too strong.
“Now, would you care to explain what that was all about?”
“What about? MissDirect’s shining passion projects?”
The grips grew tighter, and the deeper voice spoke again. “No smartass. You’re missing, and that news was from hours ago today. It’s been two nights. Why in the hell don’t they seem worried?”
“What’s there for her to be worried about? They probably don’t even know I’m gone yet.”
There was silence for a moment. “So you’re some sorta black sheep in your family then?”
I thought for a second. “I mean, I don’t think it’s like that….”
“Well,” the first voice spoke again. “It sure does seem like your family isn’t that worried about you.”
“Like I said... they probably just haven’t realized I’m gone yet,” I said matter-of-factly. “Just give a few days for the WiFi to go out, and they’ll notice within the hour.”
As soon as I finished speaking, the building shook, and dust began falling from the ceiling.
“What the hell was that?” Their grip released from my head, but I didn’t bother moving it around.
I smirked as I spoke. “You probably know who. They’re not giving up their free tech support.”
\------
Fun! Thanks for the prompt!
r/IUniven | 2022-02-13T18:53:40 | 2022-02-13T17:49:26 | 200 | 142 |
[WP] You are the weakest member of a famous superheros family. Villains kidnapped you for a ransom, unfortunately hostage situations don't work when your family is already neglecting you... | My family has always been the most popular of the city, thanks to their powers. My parents were able to manipulate matter and teleport. My siblings could fly, control fire and water.
And my relatives although they had minor powers like pass through walls, they still had powers strong enough.
I was the exceptions, after all my siblings my parents expected another gifted child and my childhood was really good, I was spoiled, I loved my brothers and they loved me back but as soon as I reached the age of revelation all things changed.
All the family was waiting for me to show my powers and i can't ever forget the look on their faces when my power happened to be fire summon.
Naturally you're thinking: wait that is a great superpower, well yes but i can just do it underwater so it kinds of dismiss the meaning of it.
From them on my family changed, my parents barely acknowledged me and my siblings did everything to make my life more difficult.
So i did everything in my power to stay out of that home as much as i could and that got me kidnapped.
One of my family most feared villain was a guy that could control all the four elements and could teleport, so it was a bit of a challenge and they hadn't beat him yet. But it was a back and fort between him and my family.
So he decided that the best way to get my family to surrender was kidnapping me and exchange me for the control over the city. How fool of him.
So now i'm in a dark room waiting for him to come back.
He got in slamming the door, "how is it that your family doesn't care if you get back or not? How is that possible? Is a trick, are they playing with my mind?"
I laid back on my seat, I expected this but I couldn't stop the tears forming in my eyes, "nah man, they don't care about me...it's been like this since I got my power and it always will be, you kidnapped the wrong kid, if it was one of my brothers you would be reigning on the city"
"And why in hell they don't care about you?" He seated in front of me.
"Cause I got the most stupid of powers, I can summon fire but just if i'm underwater, do you get how stupid it is?"
He raised an eyebrow and looked at me, then he looked at my wrist and noticed a bruise. "Do they hurt you?"
I covered it quickly, "no, but sometimes my brothers give me a hard time, for my parents I practically don't exist".
He seemed thoughtful then he said "you're not coming back there, ever".
I looked at him shocked but he grabbed me and a second later we were at his home.
I ended up staying with him, he kept fighting my parents until he gave up and told me that he really wasn't interested in power anymore, he was just happy with me being there, with helping me with school and just hanging out. He had always wanted a son he said one night to me.
And I finally started to live, to really live and not just surviving as I was before and when I called him "dad" for the first time and his eyes swelled with tears I knew that everything was gonna be alright. | So, imagine you're some medieval peasant going up against a knight. Dude has a huge fuck-off sword and enough plate to be a walking tank. Hell, in those days they may as well have been. And you have to kill him. What do you do?
I say go for the joints. You can't go through the armour, and the sword will cleave you. But get close enough and you can stick a knife into an armpit or in the back of the knee. Dude goes down. You stick him in the eye. And then piss on his corpse.
Why do I mention this? Simple: that was the plan. The peasant: The White Horseman. The Knight: My family. The weak point: me. Brilliant plan if you don't ask me.
...Yeah, I ought t' back up a bit here. See, my brother, sisters and parents are heroes. Celebrity heroes. Fuck, I must be allergic to that word. Anyway, the lot of them have superpowers that are run-of-the-mill shit that you can read in any bit of fiction that exists. Hell, you can't sneeze without hitting a comic or tv show about a 'flying brick'. Like dad.
Now for the black sheep. I exist. But I may as well not for all intents and purposes, and that suits me just fine. I absolutely hate the spotlight, it's garish, vile. Plus I'm the weakest of the lost when it comes to powers. That helps.
...Yeah, I ought to get on why I'm here. See, Y'know that plague doc, White Horseman? Thought that kidnapping me would give him leverage against Tempest at least. That's the youngest, by the by. She's ten. She's actually a decent kid, all said and done, and that's the best I can say about my family.
Oh, have I mentioned it's been a week now and that no fucker turned up AT ALL\*?!\* Yeah, Tempest needs a consenting adu- shit that sounds wrong. But yeah, she can't go off on her own, and Heartstone sure as shit doesn't care.
...third oldest. Second youngest? Hearty's first, anyway, I'm in the middle.
But, err, yeah. They sure as shit either can't or won't break me out. My parents... kinda suck, to be honest. I think all the prestige went to their heads or something. So when I didn't manifest anything useful, they kinda just shoved me to the side. Oh, no, they fed me and stuff, but that does not a parent make. Anyone can feed or potty train or educate. But it takes more than that to be a parent. No love from them. And I am not. OBLIGATED... to show them any either.
...Do you know where the dead go?
...Sorry, just trying to speedrun this shit, I am getting very, very pissed off with every fucking memory of them demanding what they will never! Deserve! And...
...I never did tell you my power, did I? Dad is a Superman wannabe. Heartstone manipulates a sort of ethereal heat, that can burn or comfort. Tempest... is obvious really. As for me, it's... weird. See, there's a 'fourth dimension'. No, I'm not sure how accurate this is, no one does, bear with me. Basically it's like if a two-D character moved in a three-D plane.
...Actually, I'm just going to be shit at explaining how it works, but basically there's not one reality, but a few. And I can move between them. You think it's just the two of us here. It isn't. There's about three other people from another plane over there-ish, a Jabberwock two feet from them, and- yes, I know. I know. But it's... all these planes?
They're all in one place. They are all occupying the same space, yet are completely separate. You and I? On one plane. Those three on another, the Jabberwock, another, so on, so forth.
I can jump from one plane to another.
...You don't believe me?! HAH! Pahahaha! Mater Maria...!
I'm leaving.
And you're coming with me, *brother*. | 2022-02-14T02:34:12 | 2022-02-14T00:21:21 | 39 | 29 |
[WP] There's a girl who knocks on your door at exactly 9pm on every full moon, expecting sweets. It's been more than ten years and she's never aged a day. | The moon was high and bright, never a cloud to be seen every full moon. The house groaned and creaked, clamoring and calling, I think. The front door stilled long enough for the knock
*tap, tap tap, tap taptaptap tap.*
Only once have I heard it twice. And I regretted waiting that long, when I did. The door opens, silent as death. The little girl stands there, a simple dress, a forgettable childlike face, dark hair that never can decide on black or brown, and the most unusual lilac irises.
“Hello Mister, do you have some candy?”
“I do, Maria. Do you want sweets, salty, or chocolate?” I walk back into my house, hearing the house calm as little Maria’s footsteps try to follow.
“You choose, sir. I’d love whatever’s around.” She isn’t lying there, at least. Every item I’ve given her, she’s eaten. She doesn’t even care for specially candy, as I’ve given her desert that’s all the same.
“Ok then. Take a seat, will you? I’ll grab a few pieces.” Sitting down at the coffee table, I do grab a handful of items. It should be enough for tonight.
“Thank you Mister! I’m glad you have these.” She’s always polite, all things considered. It’s rather nice, to have someone who is.
“Maria, did you know this marks the tenth year you’ve visited.”
“I did! I’m surprised you remembered.”
“Why me, Maria? Once every full moon and never without missing a day.” She gets quiet, the wrapper she was idly twirling and spinning forgotten.
“I’m not sure, mister. You have always been here.” She looks at you, and the lilac seems bottomless.
“I’ve told you my name before. Do you remember it?” She shakes her head, and I sigh.
“Who were you, Maria. Why have you not aged a day for the last 10 years?”
“…” The silence stretches onwards, and not a sound is made.
“Maria?”
“I don’t know. All that I know is that on a full moon I get one chance to leave. It’s Dark, mister. So Dark. And every time, I get met with you…”She seems on the verge of tears.
“…and I just don’t know why. I remember only a few things; You are kind, You are there, You have Something to give me.” She’s openly crying now.
“I’m sorry, Maria. I didn’t know.” She’s forgotten about the candy now, a sniffling mess that I made.
“Do you want to stay? I can’t promise anything, but if you want, you can try. There’s this guest room that I’d think you’d like.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” And I took her hand as I guided her to that room where my daughter used to be. Cancer took her far too soon. Maybe this is me second chance.
And on that day, the girl aged another night. | For the first while since living here, full moons were always uncomfortable for me. Always approached by the same strange girl, asked the same question. I worried that I was being stalked or targeted or something…
But after about four or five months of three consecutive nights of knocking and sweet requesting, it became clear that it wasn’t going to escalate. Not too far down the line, I began complying, and by the time I reached that five month mark I came to enjoy those visits. The girl always smiled this warm, joyous smile when I complied.
As of the night I wanna tell ya about, we’ve reached month number eight, I think. Maybe nine? Anyway, this girl had become somewhat of a regularly expected presence, a friend even. I always have a little something for her. Where was I going with this?
Oh, right, that night. For the past while I had been meaning to ask why she’s doing this. Like, she seems a nice girl, and I don’t think she’s taking advantage of the neighborhood since her parents won’t give her anything or something. Not to mention how… perfectly clockwork things were, based on a moon phase no less. So yeah, that night I finally asked her instead of just giving her what she wants and sending her on her way.
“Say, why do you always get candy from me at this time?”
“Well, it’s the only time I can. What of it?”
She maintained her calm, carefree attitude as she responded. She never seemed to be bothered by anything, even my initial refusals.
“Well, are you keeping a stash of it all? Do you have nowhere else to get something fun to eat?”
“Fun to eat? Oh, this isn’t for me.”
“None of it? Ever?”
“Nope. I… can’t. Not anymore.”
I have a sister who gradually developed an aversion to gluten, and know someone else who suddenly became deathly allergic to capsaicin at their teens, so I didn’t pry into this. “Then who’s it for?”
“Friends. Even though I can’t enjoy it, it makes me happy to see them enjoy it.”
“Makes up for not being able to enjoy it yourself?”
“Something like that, yeah. It’s nice to help someone experience what you couldn’t.”
Couldn’t? Huh? Did she misspeak? And as she said that, she absentmindedly rubbed her stomach, which I then noticed, not having really looked at it before, seemed rather… receded. Thin. Oh no, was this poor girl anorexic or something? After waiting for me to respond, only for me to get distracted by this revelation of sorts, she continued.
“So, do you have anything then? I don’t have all night, after all.” Even this she said without her mood seeming to go down too much.
“Oh, well, I don’t have much this time, just the one Hershey bar. Here ya go.”
Even though it was just one item, she looked as happy as always. She never cared how much or little she got.
Anyway, that was essentially that for the conversation, but it was the morning after that really struck me.
As I was taking my morning walk, I happened to come by an underpass, where there’s always a few homeless people or other such destitutes. A sad place I don’t like to linger by for too long, y’know? When I was there, well, it seemed like there was just a couple of ‘em this time, sleeping next to each other. One of them woke up and kind of side eyed me as I went past, but something else seemed to catch their eye. On the ground, right next to them, was… a Hershey bar? Their face immediately brightened up, and they nudged their buddy awake, and they immediately got to unwrapping the thing and breaking it in two to share.
Right then, I began to kind of… put things together.
Well, it’s been about ten years since, and that girl, who never tells me her name, hasn’t changed in her appearance at all. I feel like that all but confirms things. I’m always happy to give her a little something.
Oh, hang on, I think that’s her at the door. I’ve got a whole little basket for her this time, I can’t *wait* to see how she reacts. | 2022-06-25T17:42:20 | 2022-06-25T15:29:44 | 116 | 71 |
[WP] A suicide hotline operator realizes that the person he's talking down really should kill themselves. | "H-hello? Operator?"
"Ma'am, yes, please stay with us."
"God, help me. *sniff* I don't *want* to die!"
"It's ok, ma'am, you don't have to die."
"I do, I *do*, oh Lord, why must it be *me*?"
"Where is your present location, Ms... Ms-"
"S-Svenson, dear. 46th and Maple. Don't come, please."
"Ms. Svenson, the display shows there are already a lot of units in that area-"
"I know, I know! God, help, it's so hot here."
"Ma'am, you've dialed a sui-"
"*sniff* Tell me I'm going to live, p-please."
---
"Hey, Jen, check the TV," a co-worker called from the back of the kiosk.
The news focused on a high-rise. There, a woman, in her early thirties, huddled by an open window. The woman was crying into a cell phone as a fire tore up the cubicles behind her.
"*sniff* Tell me I'm going to live, p-please."
Jen looked at the phone in front of her and back at the television. The firemen would not reach Ms. Svenson in time.
"Ms. Svenson, I..."
Jen paused.
"I-It's your job, right? To tell people they are going to live?"
"You're going to live, ma'am. ...But-"
"But what?"
"Ms. Svenson. I..."
"What is it?"
"I need you to jump for me."
"But the firemen-"
"They can't make it up there, Ms. Svenson. They've set up a life net for you."
But it was a lie.
"I'm scared."
The woman on the television approached one of the burst-out windows.
...
"You're going to live, Ms. Svenson."
She turned off the television, and cried. | "Hello, my name is Emilio. I'm here to help you. What's your name?"
"My name is ... ugh Jesus. Shit, I don't even know why I'm calling you guys."
"Well, how about we talk it through and figure out how we can help you today, okay? What's your name? I doubt it's 'ugh Jesus' haha."
"... Ben. Ben Silverton. I'm 46. I used to live at 36 Suffolk Road in Rochester. My wife's name is Sara, she lives there now. Please ... I ... I need you to tell her I love her. Tell her I always have. She wouldn't stand to hear my voice again, but I'll only be at peace if she knows I'm sorry."
"Well I'm hoping I won't have to, and when this all blows over, we can help you approach Sara to find closure in a better way. May I ask where you are?"
"I'm ugh ... I'm on the Randolph Bridge. Ugh ... I'm ... it's rush hour. God why the fuck did I choose to do this now? This fucking guy pulled over and he -"
"Ben, this office is located in Albany so I need you to be more specific on the location. I found two bridges with that name in Rochester. Can you give me the route name it's on?"
"518 south ... Oh my god, I feel so sick. Emilio, listen to me. I ugh ... fuck ... Emilio, I killed someone."
"...Mr. Silverton. Wha- ... Are you ... When did this-"
"Last Thursday night I was driving home down this bridge and there was this kid, this little boy on his bike. He was right next to me on the sidewalk. And I reached down to get my phone. When I looked back up, the car in front of me stopped short, so I swerved. And I ... I ... Jesus Christ ... I fucking hit him, and he flew off the side. I can see his face. I ran right out of my car and fled in the opposite direction before anyone nearby realized what I had done."
"You hit a boy on a bike last Thursday night?"
"YES! I fucking hit this kid! I didn't mean to! I ... I was caught off ... I didn't think he ... Jesus fuck! I'm fucked Emilio."
" ... was the boy wearing a red and white stripped shirt?"
"...Emilio..."
"Was that boy wearing a red helmet with a lightning bolt sticker on the front?"
"I..."
"I came to work today because I needed to find hope. I needed to know the world was still good. I wanted to hear a sigh of relief in a voice that chose to not end it all. And you ruined it."
"Emilio, I ..."
"Sir, it's against my job, against my own beliefs really, to tell you to jump off that bridge. Right now I know that God has brought you to me, I know I have justice now. It's not my place to tell you to jump. But if I may speak out of context Sir ... I wish you the worst eternity in whatever hell you burn in."
"... Oh god ... I ... Emilio, I ... Please ..."
"Please don't do it there. You don't deserve to die where he did ... Have a good day." (Hang up)
"Emilio, I'm sorry. I..." | 2013-12-23T15:11:05 | 2013-12-23T13:39:10 | 50 | 26 |
[WP] everyone in the world has a number over their head, but nobody knows why. You have just figured if out. | Science had a lot of answers for us. How chemical bonds work. How to get to the moon. How water turns to ice. But the one question that science could never answer was the one about the numbers. The numbers that were floating above everyone's head.
Throughout all of history people of all types had struggled with that very question. Why did we all have a giant number floating above us? The number never changed (my number was, and always had been, 3,236,752,219), and it wasn't a solid object or anything, but rather a hologram. The funny thing was, the numbers didn't appear over everyone. Whenever a drone would flyover some remote part of the Amazon and discover some new, untouched tribe, those people were always missing the numbers.
Someone did an experiment on one of those tribes once. They managed to sneak into their camp one night and steal one of their children. They took the child back to civilization, and taught it how to read and write. And once the child knew how to count to ten, and how to count objects, their number showed up immediately. As horrible as the idea of kidnapping is, the experiment proved to be very important in showing the development of a child's brain. But even so, no one could figure out why babies born in civilization came out of their mothers womb with their number above their heads.
For most people, though, the numbers kind of faded into the background. It was just something you stopped noticing, like strangers on the street. They were just there. It's like wondering where the universe came from. It's an interesting question, but not one that you'll ever get a satisfying answer to. And so the "numbers" question was left to the scientists of the world, and the "car payment" question and the "raising children" question was left to the rest of us.
The "raising children" question had become very important to me lately, as I was in the delivery room with my wife. Sonograms could of course tell you the gender (we're having a girl!) but the numbers never showed up. Our joke to friends was that we were having a girl, "and we'll love her no matter what her number is!" It was a common enough joke, of course, but we would laugh anyway.
"Here she comes, this is the big one! Push, Miranda, push!" I heard Miranda grunt and scream that scream of motherhood as my daughter came out into the world. Then I heard the cries of my new daughter. My wife and I enjoyed this one final moment of solitude while the doctors wrapped her up and put her into our arms.
"She's so beautiful. She has your eyes..."
"And your mother's nose..."
"And your chin. She's perfect."
"Yes, she's..." But even in my state of newly parental bliss, I could tell something was off. My wife heard me trail off.
"She's what?"
"Her number...look."
"What about her..." Her voice trailed off too as she saw for herself.
The number floating above my daughters head was zero.
Just then there was a large flash from outside. I turned my head to look outside, and saw a mushroom cloud starting to blossom over the city. And then another, and another. The missiles were finally flying, and this was the end. And then it hit me. The reason behind the numbers.
How many people were left to be born. | Bill's mouth tensed when Lisa asked it, and as if sensing it, she turned up the volume and skipped over to the couch and punched him in the shoulder.
"Come on. What do you think the numbers mean?" Above her head, a neon green floating *17* seemed locked to her hair by an invisible halo. Above his, the number *1.*
"It's embarrassing," he said, fiddling with the TV remote. "Let it go."
"You must have *some* thought. Most people have their theories."
*Theories?* thought Bill. *No. A theory.* It was commonly known that the numbers said something about their sexual history. Most people thought it referred to the total number of sexual partners a person has had. When Bill's roommate in college found his girlfriend accelerate from *9* to *11* in one night, he broke up with her on the spot despite her repeated denials. For a long time, Bill had only been with Lisa. It took a long time for the *0* to change to a *1*, but eventually it did. But only after Bill met Angie. He didn't want to tell Lisa about that.
"You know what they mean," Bill said. "I don't really want to talk about it."
"You think it's something sexual," Lisa said. "It's not. My sister had sex with a guy when she was separated from her husband and the number didn't go up. I think the number means something more romantic. It means how many times you've opened up your heart to another person."
Bill scrunched up his nose in distaste. "I've opened my heart for plenty of people."
Lisa rubbed his hands. "Yeah, babe, but you only got your *1* when you started dating me." She put her head on his shoulder, rubbed his chest. Bill couldn't help but think of Angie, the temp at his office with whom he'd shared some of his most intimate thoughts. She was a redhead, not even conventionally pretty but with great swollen breasts and a personality that spoke right to the core of a man. It hadn't been til he met Angie that his number changed, but he didn't want Lisa to know that.
"Are you a more loving person than me?"
"I must be. *17.* But my number's stayed the same since I met you, Bill."
"Maybe it only refers to the amount of sexual partners," Bill said, his teeth clenching.
"That couldn't be true," Lisa said. "I've had...uh..."
*...more,* Bill finished, but only in his head. He understood.
----------------------------
The next day at the office he received a text from his old college friend Steve.
> Hey man. Saw Lisa out at lunch with some guy. Thought you might want to know.
That night Lisa didn't want to come over. She came over every Friday night. It was their movie night. But she said she didn't want to see him, that she was feeling sick, but instead it was Bill's stomach that turned. *She has an 18 over her head,* he thought. *I knew it.*
He knew it all along.
But he didn't know for sure. Saturday came and went, and still she was sick, and by the time Sunday rolled around--they always went to the Farmer's Market on Sunday, he started receiving strange texts from Lisa's phone.
> This is Lisa's cousin Bernadette. She's still sick. She doesn't want you to worry.
Bill had a suspicion about "Bernadette," but he simply texted back "ok" and resolved to see for himself.
He knew the way. On Sunday night he drove to her apartment building. She had a corner apartment on the first floor. When he arrived, the curtains were drawn, but the lights were on inside. Bill let the engine of his car idle, wondering what to do next--if he should give up, go home.
But then he thought of Angie. He had been dating Lisa even then when he and Angie had first had sex. He remembered looking in the mirror that morning in her apartment, seeing the "0" change to a "1." He'd already had sex with Lisa. The number didn't refer to amount of sexual partners, strictly speaking.
He knocked on Lisa's door, resolved to see her. She opened it in her bathrobe, an *18* floating above her head. When she went to slam the door shut, he put his hand in the way.
"Just tell me," he said. "Just tell me."
Her eyes watered and she pinched her nose as if she could stop them, and then waved air to her eyes. "Yes."
Bill drove home, regretting his *1.*
Now he knew. Only cheaters had numbers. | 2014-06-04T10:00:23 | 2014-06-04T09:53:27 | 214 | 135 |
[WP][NSFW] During a civilised dinner party, the nuclear attack siren goes off. The guests gather in the safety of the basement, only to realise that it's the owner's kinky sex dungeon.
Maybe set it during a tornado instead or even during the blitz.
It could be comical, (They emerge into the world, all of their relationships irreversibly changed only to realise that it was a false alarm!) or it could be more serious, (Their self-assured civility gives way to animalistic desires and base needs, mirroring the breakdown of society beyond their microcosm) it's up to you!
EDIT: This is an erotica prompt. Not a mock-your-kinky-neighbor prompt. Just clarifying.
| "A tornado warning? Shit, you have a basement, right, Dan?"
"Uhh . . ." Dan swallowed heavily, glancing nervously to Maddie. The redhead merely giggled. *She* knew what was in the basement. They weren't even dating, they were just friends who played together, but she had wanted him to be more social. At her insistence, he'd thrown a little dinner party for some of the guys from his beer league hockey team. You don't have enough male friends, she said. Don't be such a hermit, she said. He was going to strangle her.
"Come on Danny boy, I ain't getting sucked up by a funnel cloud just 'cause you don't clean your fucking basement." Jason said, abruptly standing. Alanna, his wife, gave him a look as if she wanted to swat him one, but also stood. Adam and his girlfriend, Josie, got up as well, and gleefully, Maddie smiled and lead them to the basement.
Dan trailed behind the party, sweating nervously. Maybe he would just stay upstairs. The tornado probably would pass right by, and if it didn't . . . . Well, getting blown away by a tornado couldn't be that bad. Not half as bad as Jason and Adam seeing what exactly was down in his basement, or, god forbid, *talking* about it.
"You're basement actually looks pretty good, Markowski. It's all carpeted and you even got-" Adam's voice broke off as finished going down the stairs. "Oh." Dan cringed, lingering on the middle part of the stair case as everyone else filed in.
He really had put a lot of effort into it. A plush, wine-red carpet, on the floor, the plain brick walls had been painted black, with the back wall painted red, just a shade deeper than the carpet, for contrast. On the far right there was a masseuse's table, with jury-rigged restraints, a rack of whips and riding crops on the wall beside it, and a small table with massage oils and lubricants directly next to it. Below the rack of whips was a large black trunk, the top open and several large, colorful dildos clearly visible. On the far side, a sex swing hung from the ceiling. Manacles hung from another wall, a ball gag and a coil of rope on another small table beside it.
"Quite, ah, the setup you got here." Jason said, gingerly pushing the swing.
"Is that thing any fun?" Alanna said, her cheeks lightly pink. "I've been trying to get Jason to get one for us but-"
"Hey! Don't just tell people that, Al!" Jason said, blushing. She rolled her eyes.
"I am trying to make things less awkward, Adam. And honestly, if there was ever a time to talk about sex toys this is it." she said tartly, then turned back to Dan. "Well?"
"It's great actually." Maddie cut in, before he could answer. Tentatively, he went down the last few steps, gingerly surveying his friends as they poked around the basement. Maddie was discussing the pros and cons of sex swings, while Adam and Josie had wandered over to the box of dildos.
"These things are clean, right?" Adam said, nudging the trunk with his foot.
"Uh, yeah." Dan said nervously. Honestly, he had expected laughter, mocking laughter, and unmerciful disgust, so their curiosity was a pleasant, if slightly unbelievable, surprise.
"Aw, he's blushing!" Josie said, giggling as she touched Adam's arm. "Don't be embarrassed! I know we're not all super good friends yet, but it's not that bad. At least it wasn't your parents or something." Dan visibly shuddered at the idea. Adam laughed.
"Imagine if it was Thanksgiving, your whole family rushing down the stairs, and then your little old granny tripping on a big, blue rubber cock-"
"Adam, that's awful!" Josie dissolved into laughter, though she tried to look stern. Dan managed to laugh as well, the tension finally beginning to seep from his shoulders.
"Hey, I'm gonna try this thing out, okay?" Jason called, and Dan turned to see him awkwardly struggling to sit on the swing.
"Wait, wait, let me help." Dan said, and hurried over to help before Jason ended up falling out of it. | Sawdust.
He kept thinking it, over and over with his tongue. It simply wouldn't shut up, but over cooked steaks never do. He could feel the moisture disappear in the maw of that chewy mess described as "well done." The throat closed itself in fear of becoming something that belongs in Chile.
Sawdust.
The only thing of that night that seemed to catch his eye was the wonderful ball around him. The host of the night, Monsieur Garrabont, had an appreciation for aristocratic exquisiteness that was long lost by the higher echelons of society. Every so often, he would drag his friends (and strong arm others) into his Monte Cristo ball. It was, in all frankness, an exquisite pain in the ass. Since the 21st century is far removed from its more lavish days, finding the appropriate clothes for such an occasion is two parts ridiculously expensive and one part unappealing. However, Monsieur Garrabont did not disappoint, and whoever came to the ball at his summer abode left quite satisfied.
Tonight was an unfortunate exception.
Viceroy Jovey continued grinding the awful steak that would eventually caulk his mouth shut. He, unlike his wife, did not appreciate these balls as much- quite the contrary actually. He never trusted Garrabont, and the Viceroy had confidence in his abilities to judge through peoples facades, and he could sense a chilling core underneath the gaudy make up and 7-mile smile. His eye's betrayed him, and something simply screamed some sort of sin. He couldn't put his finger on it. Lustful debauchery? Cold ruthlessness? Sadistic fetish? It eluded him, instead manifesting as a deep unease in his chest. The Viceroy felt as if he was in a bear trap, this ball merely a hive, and these poor saps wouldn't know until the metal teeth sank into their soft pudgy flesh. He could see it now, them screaming for mercy, but it was only too late.
He could warn them, he thought. He already tried his wife. Paranoid, she called him. Ridiculous, she called him. He hoped so.
The Viceroy fell to his feet when the alarms rang. Gunshots rattled the air, shouts and blood accompanied the bullets. His spine shook. Sophine, Sophine, he kept muttering. He had to find his wife, or die trying. The floor below rattled. It felt sticky and warm, it sickened his stomach. He felt the sawdust cork rumble out his throat.
"Down into the basement everyone! Hurry, for your lives! Come esteemed guests!" Garrabont's voiced carried and died to the raging carnage. The last sight the Viceroy could remember was the fading image of his wife being carried into the basement floor, and finally the feeling of being lifted as well.
Dicks. Dicks everywhere. It's all the Viceroy could see. His eyes rocked with horror. The only thoughts that could formulate in his fear stricken head were that of his wife, and the ghastly arrangement of multi colored and size oriented cocks that hung upon the stony wall. He gathered as much sense as he could to look for his wife, but alas, he was chained to the wall.
Screams-no, moans. He could see in the stony corridor shadows from the room on the left. Whip outlines lashed at the shadow carapace of an ass, with the contours the woman's breasts hooked to some wirey machine. The Viceroy mustered whatever energy he had left to call out, but the words that left his mouth rang silent, and hot, heavy moans drowned them out in his head. Sophine he mouthed, Sophine he yelled with all his muscles and might, but his voice would not comply. He felt anxiety wash over him, a deep fear that resembled that of being strangled, of suffocation, but no physical obstacle to him breathing was apparent.
"Well what do we have hear? Viceroy, I see you have entered my- lovely- dungeon. Don't you just love that word? The way it leaves the mouth just as dirty as it means to be? I swear, every time I have the pleasure of uttering it, my brain has the odd reaction akin to an orgasm. It fucks my brain, quite honestly. Right in the frontal lobe, in between the halves, like a smooth buttocks, or a pair of breasts, perhaps?"
The Viceroy curled within, sheer panic rushing within his face and veins alike. He knew that voice, only too well.
"It seems this ball had the finest miscellanea of people, from old to young, small titted to bunker busters, bachelors to wives, eh? Don't worry Viceroy, your wife will make a lovely specimen. Unfortunately for you, we already have a fine stock of young men bursting with rigor, with haughty asses fresh for the fucking. I have no need for you, and having you around will only excite the cattle in an unneeded manner. I'm sorry, my dear Viceroy, you'll have to go the way of the race horse," he turned to his lackey, " grab the shot gun. And Demetry of the wall, might as well stuff his ass for one last good memory."
"N-n-no" he managed to choke. "S-sophine."
"Don't worry Viceroy, she is in good hands now. I treat my prime cattle with the utmost care. And these hands are very gentle indeed, on the outside and for tenderizing the inside too." He licked his lips in a manner both creepy and terrifying.
"Farewell Viceroy, and give my condolences to the undesirables I had removed above, I'm sure they'll be very cross with what has occurred.
Oh, and I hope you enjoyed the steak."
| 2014-06-22T09:02:09 | 2014-06-22T08:42:55 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] Gods are frustrated on how humans have misinterpreted all their teachings, they come together for a emergency meeting to decide the fate of Earth. Most agree to pull out the power plug (Sun). You are the only Human representative, convince them there is still hope. | The room was quite loud; everyone was talking over each other, trying to get their point across. Finally, a booming voice rang out: "Be quiet!" After the walls finished their shaking and Steve's ears quit ringing, all eyes turned to the being at the head of the table.
God glanced at each being that sat around the conference table. He met each with a pointed look and finally turned to Steve. "Well, Stephen William Hawking, you are here as spokesperson for humanity. What do you have to say on this matter?"
"Well," Steve began. "First and foremost, taking away the sun should be off the table. You must realize that many of your teachings have had millennia to be spread among humans and I am sure this is part of the reason that your true teachings have been lost. As well, when can any of you honestly say you have influenced human events in the last few hundreds of years? Don't quote me on many of the other religions but God, the last time we have direct teachings from you was how long ago?"
God looked sheepishly into the corner as the other gods looked uncomfortable.
Brahma spoke up with a slightly whining tone to his voice. "But there are many people who do not even believe in us anymore! They don't practice any religion at all!"
Allah shook his head in agreement. Zeus and his flock in their togas murmured among themselves.
"Well, honestly, what do you expect?" Steve countered. "The rise of science and knowledge has led many more people questioning religion and not believing in things that cannot be proven with science. But I have a solution for that." He smiled knowingly.
"Oh? What is...?" God started to say until he began to smile as he looked at Steve. Being omnipresent and all-knowing had its perks. "That could work, Stephen. It really could."
"What could work?" asked Hera from her position beside Zeus. "This puny human has a solution?"
"Yes," replied God. "A reality show." | "Our failings of character and understanding are the byproducts of your choices, not ours. Frankly, if you are surprised that giving us a few special books to read didn't result in ten thousand years of unchanging world utopia, then you obviously don't understand your own creation. If you don't understand us, who are you to judge our understanding? I guess none of you can see across time, since then you would probably have known how things would turn out before you created us, so what makes this particular moment so critical? If you're thinking of murdering all of creation, why not wait a few thousand years and see what happens? If we've really, permanently, missed your memos, then we'll prolly all end up murdering ourselves anyways. What's the hurry, exactly? I mean, you folks are immortals at least, right?"
Σιτώ appeared then, standing huge before the solitary human. It was painful to gaze upon her, and the human reflexively turned around and covered its eyes. Σιτώ was not beautiful in the human sense of the word and yet, as her child, the human wept as it cowered beneath her. Even seen only for a moment, the image of Σιτώ burned in the human's mind with a longing and uncontrollable desire beyond the love of lovers or kin. A great terror rose in the human then, as it began to see that its parents perhaps did not love it.
Σιτώ spoke, but her words did not echo or pass over air. She was a voice in the human's mind. "Regard me as your mother. See that you have made my fields desert; my milk, poison. I fade to nurture you further." And then she was gone. The human had a fever now, being both cold and hot.
Ishtar appeared next, and said only, "though my edifice receives no sacrament, you have pleased me greatly." The human felt a powerful endorphin rush then, and was healed.
And on and on the gods went, each form appearing out of nothing, and quickly returning to darkness after rendering judgement. Repeatedly the human was tortured by the great heat of dissatisfied divinity, and then given succor by its opposite.
A final formless voice eventually found its way into the human's mind. The voice exhausted the human to hear. "You are right and wrong when you say we do not understand you. We can see through time, but we could not look upon humanity's existence without risking collapse of the delicate threads of your reality. The universe as you know it needed you to fight against the creations of the gods of chaos. Though you have learned much, you still impotently struggle against yourselves, in petty selfishness. You cannot rally against the forces of darkness. You were given a real freedom to fail, and failed you have. Our investment in you cost us dearly, and time has run out. The darkness grows; our defeat is near. We must sacrifice our creation to conserve our energy so that we may start again in the next universe."
The human was given no relief this time, and floated almost lifeless, wet and cold. It whimpered "let me be your last champion."
The voice did not speak for a long moment. Finally it said, "well, obviously." | 2015-01-08T10:26:40 | 2015-01-08T09:34:36 | 82 | 18 |
[WP]: You always know the best or the worst thing to say. Unfortunately, you never know which one it is before you blurt it out. | "Well, he lived a long, full life."
"He was 12, Dale."
*Shit. Brilliant.*
"Uh, I know. But he did a lot, didn't he? Not a lot of 12-year-olds get accepted into Harvard. He did a lot of good in his time."
She smiled and looked at the tombstone. "I miss him."
"I don't." *Shit*.
She head snapped up.
"A-as much as you do, I mean. I mean, he wasn't like my friend as much as yours. He was your brother, not mine."
She gaped at me. She couldn't believe what I was saying. Neither could I. But that's how curses work.
"But the point is, we remember him. He will live on in our hearts till the day we die."
She closed her mouth and nodded grimly. She was crying. I pulled her in for a hug. She wept softly into my chest.
"Hey, is this even the right grave?" | "Hey, you'll get past this, these things don't last forever." I said, trying to calm her sobs.
"They don't last forever? I would really think that your mother's death does, Ryan." Shit. That came out wrong.
"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. Please, let me help you get through this." I said, nearing desperation. I had to make sure I did this right, or Nicole would hate me forever. She sniffed, looking up at me from her crouched position.
"O-okay. It just hurts so much. She was so good to me and now she's gone. I didn't even get to say goodbye, or how much I loved her." Nicole said to me, tears running down her face.
"I love you, Nicole." I said, blurting it out before I had the chance to think about it. After what she had said about never getting to tell her mother that she loved her for the last time, I had suddenly felt compelled to. She stopped, and slowly looked at me. I anticipated the shocked look on her face, but it still hurt.
"That's... That's not fair. You can't say that to me. Not right now. Not right here." Her face contorted into a mix of anger and despair. "Don't try to take advantage of me now." I thought to apologize and I almost did, but something stopped me. All my life, I had just said the first thing that came to my mind. Sometimes, things worked out great, and I got lucky. Other times, I got the worst possible outcome. I didn't want that right now. I wanted to be with Nicole, even if she was hurt and broken like this. I didn't want my fate on the luck of the draw.
"Look, I can't imagine yet what must be happening for you. I haven't had to go through it myself. But, you've lost a loved one and that's horrible. I want to help you. I know I'll never replace your mother, but I want to try to fill some of that hole that she left behind. Would you let me do that, please?" I said, carefully choosing every word, something I had never done before. Nicole looked up again with wet eyes. Before I could react, she threw herself into my arms, sobbing once more. After I got over the moment of shock that came with the acceptance of my help, I wrapped my arms around her, knowing things would turn out fine. | 2015-10-01T06:34:43 | 2015-10-01T06:12:40 | 108 | 12 |
[WP] Gordon Ramsay mistakenly walks into your house to film an episode of Kitchen Nightmares, and refuses to believe that you aren't a failing restaurant owner | GORDON RAMSAY: DEAD AT 59
-BBC, 29 June 2016
NATIONAL TREASURE GORDON RAMSAY has been shot dead in a Florida home while filming an episode of Kitchen Nightmares, the American reality TV show.
The suspect, Michael Jensen, 56, allegedly shot the celebrity chef after Ramsay mistakenly entered his home.
"The deceased entered the suspect's home at 6:00 p.m., as the family was preparing their dinner," reports Chief Jameson, who is overseeing the investigation. "Ramsay allegedly began issuing orders to the suspect and his family in their kitchen. After the family refused to comply with his orders, Ramsay allegedly picked up a butcher knife to 'show them how it's done.'"
"At this point the suspect, Michael Jensen, drew his pistol. Ramsay reportedly refused to back down and insisted on teaching the family 'proper technique' and advanced towards the suspect. The suspect then allegedly shot Ramsay 2 times in the chest."
An ambulance was called for the chef, who died on the way to the hospital.
The suspect is currently in police custody. The investigation is ongoing. | It's tough holding a dinner party for your friends when you can barely cook. But trying to prepare food with Frankenstein's uglier Scottish cousin leaning over your shoulder is nigh on impossible. That's what I get for leaving a window open, I suppose.
As I take the chicken breasts out of the oven to inspect them, Gordon leans his face right against mine. I'm not sure if he is going to kiss me or nut me, when his eyes open wide and the insanity takes him.
"WHY DID THE FUCKING CHICKEN CROSS THE FUCKING ROAD?" He sprays my face in spittle as he asks the 'question'. I know the answer but I know better than to look clever.
"Don't...don't know chef" I squeak out, my voice cracking.
"BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T FUCKING COOK IT. Fucking hell, seriously a decent vet could still save it ."
Sweat drips off my forehead and plops onto the chicken.
"That is fucking disgusting! That is a fucking health violation." He walks out of the kitchen and enters the dining room.
"I am sorry but you are all going to have to leave, unless you want to be fucking poisoned. Get the fuck out. Now!"
"Chef!" I yell as I run in trying to salvage the dire situation "I've thrown the chicken away. They can stay, I'l do something else."
With a resentful grunt he follows me back into the kitchen.
"Alright Nick, what are you planning on cooking?" He says, rubbing his hands together.
"Uh.. beef bourguignon with a-"
"No you're fucking not." He interrupts. "We are going to simplify the menu. If you can specialise in one fucking thing you might be able to salvage this business."
"..."
"I know the area and I know for a fact there are no toastie restaurants here, and the city is gagging for a good toastie place to open. What do you think?"
"Uh..."
"Exactly. Right lets get to it. We are going to need cheese and tomoato and a little bit of bread. This is going to be fucking fantastic."
At that moment, a team of men and women rush into my kitchen and begin redecorating. Ten sleek new toastie machines soon take up all of my work space.
Neon signage goes up outside my small house - *Toni's Toasties*
"Uh Chef, my name's Nick."
"Doesn't fucking matter - toasties are all about sex appeal."
At this point I give up and join my friends in the other room.
| 2016-06-29T03:00:02 | 2016-06-29T00:16:18 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a society where at the end of each day, you can choose to relive it, but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously. A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day. Almost always that number is 0. Today it is 7212. | The highest number I'd reached before today was 324. I only remembered one of those days of course, the one where the ambulance was called in time. Sometimes I have dreams about what I must have gone through before. Finding her dead already the first time probably, or getting there just in time to hear her apologise. It took me to finally call an ambulance before I even started looking myself to save her. That was 324 times.
I've had a few in the fifties and sixties before, even a couple more hundreds. Messing up relationships, breaking things in the house as a kid. Nowadays I'd gotten used to accepting a less than perfect ending. I was one of those that never finished on less than a three or four. Always trying to optimise everything caused far more stress than it was worth.
So what had happened to get me to 7212? I'd first seen the number when I woke up this morning. After rubbing my eyes I realised it was real and proceeded to throw up. She came rushing to the bathroom to ask what was wrong. My first thought was to tell her but I must have tried that before. I must have tried not telling her. 7212. I must have tried everything.
I didn't tell her today. It must have been something I ate, I said. I took the day off work. I watched the news and kept calling her to make sure nothing was happening. I could have followed her but that was too obvious. So was making her stay home. 7212. Nobody ever got that high. There was just nothing more you could do after a certain point.
Nothing happened. She came home safely. The only bad story on the news was some drunk guy crashing his van into a hatchback the night before. Both kids and one of the parents were in hospital. I looked up who they were but no matter how hard I searched it was nothing to do with me. Nothing worth a reset.
So now I'm lying in bed. She's asleep next to me. The clock shows 23:56. There must be some reason to reset this many times. I keep trying to think back, to work out what disaster I had finally avoided that all the times before I had failed at. There was nothing. Nothing different to yesterday or the day before. Nothing different to all the peaceful zeroes I'd been having recently.
So why I had I reset? I can't believe that this is it. There must be something I missed. 23:59. I have no choice. Tomorrow will have to wait. | 7212 days?! Jesus, that's a long time. I pull out my phone and do the math. "19.75 years? Holy crap!" I think to myself. This must be one hell of a day. I'm stoked and really looking forward to it. I get up it is almost two in the afternoon (that's not unusual for me after a late night of online gaming), have a bowl of cereal, take a shower and get dressed.
I hear a knock at the door and go to open it. A cute little blonde is standing there holding a small gym bag. Short shorts, low cut v-neck shirt, assets showing. "I was sent over by party-gram, sugar. I'm Candy" she says. "I'm here to put on a dance for you." She turns over her left shoulder and there is a large muscled man holding a boom box radio.
"This is Ray, he's just here for my security, a girl can't be too safe can she?" My birthday is next week, so I'm like "sure, come on in." My buddy Reggie must have sent her over for an early surprise. "Do you have a chair?" she asked? I went and got one from the dining room table and brought it into the living room. While I did this, Ray was setting up in the corner and assumed the folded arm "you better not try anything" posture.
Candy begins "There are some rules sugar, no touching, hands to yourself. I need to put these straps on your ankles and bind your arms to the chair. Some clients really like this part. I hope you are one of them." "Oh, yes, I'm one of those." I reply. "Great sugar, great. Ray- some getting started music please..." She pulls out some straps from her bag sitting on the sofa and the music begins to play. Skynnard, Free Bird.
She starts to dance and wiggle slowly as she gets each strap and secures me to the chair. This takes a few seconds and just as the song starts into "If I leave here tomorrow.....would you still remember me?" Candy stops, stands up and turns to Ray. "OK Ray." "OK Ray what?" I say. "Ray's stone expression turns to an evil grin and he unfolds his arms, and starts to draw his right fist back and starts to run across the room towards me. Candy steps back and he cold cocks me with a right cross across the jaw. He follows it up with a flurry of fists to my face, neck and chest. I'm still strapped to the chair so I can't do crap about it. "Stop, please, what is this?" and other pleas are all I can do. Not too long after he starts and before the music picks up (damn I love that part) I'm out cold.
I wake up, it could have been hours later. I don't know. 'Candy' has just thrown a cup of water in my face. I sputter awake. "Wakey-wakey" Candy says. I don't want you to miss it. You've got just a couple of minutes before the reset. Wouldn't want you to miss it." I could hear it now. The two-minute warning beeps from my chrono-reset watch. "Sugar, one last surprise for you." She pulls out a shiny hunting knife, reaches inside of my right bicep and pulls a deep cut up across my bicep. "Brachial artery, Sugar. Just a few minutes left for you." My arm starts to spurt out my life's blood onto the carpet. My heart starts to race, making it worse. My watch starts to begin with the verbal warning now. "Chrono-watch warning - If you do not press 'move to next day', the current day will be reset. You are currently on loop 7212."
Candy bends down to look me in the eye. "Bye Sugar. See you tomorrow. Say, around 2:30?" | 2016-07-11T07:44:16 | 2016-07-11T07:37:31 | 83 | 26 |
[WP] Eye colour means everything here. Brown control the earth, blue controls the water, white controls the sky. There are so many colours and each important but you were the first born with yellow eyes. | Everyone wants to be different. I, to my dismay, am.
I was deemed dangerous when I was born. Even though there are those that can level mountains with a wave of their hand, or calm a storm with a mere thought, it was I that they feared- a baby. Those comfortable with their own strength and power often fear that which they do not understand. And, as the first of my kind, the first human to be born with yellow eyes, the first human to not fit our world's notion of normalcy, I am dangerous.
In our world, it is the color of one's eyes that controls their gifts. Those with blue eyes command the sea. Those with brown eyes control the earth, and those with white the sky. Eye color is everything. It was only when they had decided that I had no powers, no gifts, no element to control, that they saw fit to give me back to my mother.
As it turns out, they were wrong.
My mother tucked me into bed, and kissed my forehead. I was about 4 years old, if I recall correctly. She whispered that she loved me, and headed for the door. I stared at the lights above me, waiting for my mother to turn them off. In that instant, the room grew black as pitch, and I rolled to my side to sleep. My mother stood, frozen at my doorway, her hand still hovering near the unmoved light switch.
Everyone has their element, be it water, earth, air, or some other puny thing.
Mine is light.
Shortly thereafter, I was again deemed a danger. The power I possessed was like nothing the world had ever seen. Where others possessed the power to destroy mountains, I possessed the power to destroy stars. Where others could quiet storms with a thought, I could shut off the sun. Others were powerful, yet I was a god.
I am a man of twenty years now. I have not glimpsed the sun since that fateful night. I have not felt the soft touch of my mothers skin, nor the warmth of sunlight beating down upon my brow. I have felt darkness blanket me, and the cold embrace of chains around my wrist.
Here I have been kept for years upon years, and here I will be kept until my dying day. I am imprisoned, and I am feared, as happens so often with gods.
| My dad supposedly fainted when I opened my eyes, right after birth, and peered at him curiously. My mom sobbed into her pillow, believing I’d never make it in life. My eyes were a molten gold, the yellow shade just as the sun began to set, or so poets have written so far. It’s been over 20 years since I gained control of my powers, amazed my friends, and shamed my family for dumping me in the orphanage. It took 5 years to track them down and show them they were wrong.
Most of my friends screamed with joy when they could finally control their abilities over the earth, the seas, or the skies. I could only watch and clap reluctantly as I came closer to the conclusion that I was a fluke. They never helped either, considering they tormented me and tried to bury and drown and strangle me a few times.
My first hint of the abilities came in 2nd grade. We, the orphanage children, attended a nearby public school and ate all our meals there. I decided one day at the mystery meat was not supposed to be a mystery, and being my temperamental self, exploded on the poor lunch staff who tried to explain it was called mystery meat.
Instead of placing her hand on my shoulder, she grasped at air and suddenly noticed that there were more copies of me than there were other children. She yelled, and I stopped out of fear of punishment.
The second incident involved the girls’ bathroom, Susanna screaming, and me getting ratted out to the principal’s office. I didn’t know any better than to illuse spiders in the bathroom, they thought, and let me off easy.
I think that’s the beginning of this ‘criminal’ streak, Officer. Do I need to go on?
You want me to list all of my actions to confirm them? And explain my ability? Yeesh, you’re asking a lot for a dude on your Xeram. That’s some pretty strong stuff.
Okay, okay. Crimes: detaining authority by casting illusion they were in a mushroom field after I caused a fire in the elementary school. Finding my birth family and traumatizing them into believing I was the next prophet. Starting a cult with them as my ‘priests’ and ‘suggesting’ they should dump the fairy juice on themselves and light incense so God would come to see them in person. It was gasoline and matches, if you’re wondering. I started a fake drug business where I gave my customers pixie sticks and illused them some LSD trips. That was pretty funny, the dumb people that they were. My second favorite one was when I convinced the governor to give me access to Riemon Enterprises and sat there watching while I transferred their overflow value into my bank account. I used the money for charity, of course! I burned down that shitty bar downtown that spiked drinks and wired the funds to my old orphanage. They really need new carpet. I lost count of the homicides, Officer, but little Miss Mary was the queen of the underground sex trade around here. Bachelorette couldn’t have enough fun on her own, huh. I burned down Montiago, yea, but they were pretty shitty to their staff.
Is that enough? Oh right, you wanted powers.
Illusions in all senses. Listed: Visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory, the works. Mind reading is a bit over hyped, seeing I can only sense emotions and thoughts of the moment. Some telekinetic abilities, not much more than I can lift, which is helluva. Remember when I flipped your car from the other road? That was pretty fun. I think that’ll be all, sir. Can I go to my cell now? | 2016-08-08T11:36:54 | 2016-08-08T11:17:29 | 28 | 20 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | Boris crossed his arms and gave me a confused expression.
"You want me to do WHAT?"
I repeated myself, speaking slowly and with confidence.
"...You see, it has been rumored that it could not be done. That is was impossible to begin with. This man... he is immovable. Thousands, no, millions have petitioned this man for this thing. But imagine the ramifications... fortunes won and lost on the stock market. Mass chaos. It'd break the internet and stop the economy in its tracks for WEEKS! If you do this, you will be remembered in SONG!"
"And all I have to do is... ensure this comes to production?"
"Yes."
"And this man... Military? Government?"
"Neither. Civilian. Though he has his hands in the counter-terrorism business."
"This does not seem difficult."
"I have his number. If you can convince him to do it over a single call, I shall pay you five hundred million Euros."
Boris smiled, reaching for my phone, "And so it shall be done."
He takes it, dials the number. His arrogant smirk lasts for a few moments. Then it turns bemused as his first offer gets turned down. By the time he starts making his threats, his face is red with anger. He gets hung up on shortly after. He hands back the phone, fuming.
"Now, now it is a matter of PRIDE!" He whips out his own phone and makes a handful of calls in a cold fury. He snaps his phone closed in triumph, "We shall see at the end of the day who the greater man is. Ha! Nobody remains my enemy for long!"
I smile and sip on my bourbon.
Three days later, Gabe Newell, founder of Valve, holds a press conference before a crowd of hundreds of gaming reporters. He's somewhat more gaunt than last reported, with stage makeup that barely hid mild bruising on his face and arms. It looked like he'd barely slept. He weakly holds up his hands and proclaims in a shaky voice:
"Half-Life 3 CONFIRMED!" | I watch the clown on my 52 inchTV, he delivers yet another embarrassing news conference making a spectacle of our entire political system. How did we get here? I must confess, it is all my fault. I belong to a gentlemen's club for what are termed, super-rich. One day, after enjoying a round of golf with my bud Mark, we were watching some golf in the deck, when out comes a commercial for The Apprentice. There, in all his gaudy glory is Donald J. Trump, the show's host. He has always wanted to join us, but he is neither rich enough, and far too crass. An idea pops up in my head, and I cannot contain it. "Mark", I say, "let's make a bet!" Mark turns to me and says, "sure, what do you want to lose $2 million on this time?" You see, a few months back, I bet Mark he wouldn't be able to destabilize Ukraine, by getting Russia to annex Crimea. I bet him $2 million that not even he could pull that off. I lost, as did Ukraine. I'm still smarting about that, especially since before that even, I lost another bet to Mark that he wouldn't be able to get Russia to attack Georgia, and annex part of its territory without a firm NATO response. As most of you no doubt know, I also lost that bet. That's what we do as super rich, we bet against one another for various reasons, but mostly pride in our prowess as movers and shakers. This time, I thought I had something that even Mark could not do. "I said, Mark, $5 million says you cannot make Trump a serious contender for the American Presidency." Mark responds "Listen Jack, I can do this, I can even make him win the whole damn thing, question is, do you really want me to do it? I mean, sure you lose $5 million, but how much will the country lose?" I say, "scared? he replies, "No, in fact, let's break this down into pieces, I promise you that not only will he run for President, but I will make him run and win as a Republican!" I laugh, and say, "the guy's a New Yorker, and a pretty liberal one at that, there's no way he'll get past the primary!" Mark replies, "Well, let's make it interesting. $1 million says he runs as a Republican, $ 2 million more says he wins the primary, and $5 million says he wins the Presidency. Just remember bud, I warned you that this was likely nothing you or I, or anyone else really wanted." I laugh it off, and say, "sure, but this time, I have you beat Mark. There is no way in hell that loud mouth can control himself to not make an ass out of himself, and his liberal positions will likely undermine his campaign until he has to withdraw. Besides, if that doesn't do him in his having 5 kids by 3 different wives should do it with the bible thumpers. Face it Mark, this time, I have the upper hand." After we sealed our pact, we went back to smoking cigars, drank a few drinks, then each headed home. My helicopter was waiting on deck, but Mark took his yacht. Others in the room, began to wager as they often do, to see who they thought would come out on top. Now here we are. What have I done? | 2016-08-23T14:15:07 | 2016-08-23T13:00:40 | 3,361 | 94 |
[WP] Cryosleep is invented and is now affordable. People line up to be put to sleep and wake up in 100 million years. The time comes and everyone wakes up to see all the future technologies that humans made, but they forgot that scientists went into cryosleep too. The earth is now very different. | Imagine a moment, a solitary and isolated moment, that holds within it a summation of catastrophe, awakening, and madness. It starts with the catastrophe, as a pilot light flares up and sets ablaze the labyrinth of your asleep sentience. It is followed by the awakening, that drags consciousness, screaming in agony and terror, from its vaults into the naked dawn. It ends with the madness, an overture composed in that final fraction of the moment before you regain awareness.
Eyes open, blink, a taste, bitter, bitter, a shuddering, a sense of cold, and then of warmth, a constriction in the throat, a pit in the abdomen.
With a sigh and the fanfare of condensation, the coffin opens and you feel the earth pull you towards her. There is a thunk as you fall to your knees and a glug as trails of ancient bile rise up into your mouth.
You fall on the ground, on your side, knees raised to your chest, and weep. Sleep comes. Sleep goes. When you open your eyes, you see a silhouette and the unmistakable shapelessness of a rock falling before it strikes your skull and kills you.
---
"What we need right now," says Ioannes, "Is a cartographer."
The band sits around a small crackling fire, sheltered on three sides by the sides of a rocky outgrowth.
"Yeah, that is what we need. A cartographer. You know what a cartographer would say to us right now?" Glisko points to a vast mountain range to the south, "He would tell us, you see those fucking Himalayas shaped things over there? That's where the Mediterranean Sea should be."
It is a starless night. The fire dances. Six people surround it, their faces flickering.
"Maybe, maybe not. We could've been moved."
"You mean to another planet? I don't think we have beasts that spit poison out their eyes."
"No, wait. I remember this thing I saw. Some kind of lizard in Indonesia or something. Spat blood from it's eyes. So maybe we were moved to Indonesia."
"Well, where are all the fucking oceans then. Indonesia is a bunch of islands, genius. And those things didn't look like anything like lizards."
"Look, this is pointless. We need to know where we are for sure."
"Which is why we need a cartographer!"
"Shut the fuck up, Ioannes."
A sound, it echoes. Crisp, high, and nearly subsumed with sound of the campfire, but still distinct.
"It's us," says one. He holds a corpse on his shoulders.
"We found more cryobeds," says the other, panting under the weight of another corpse. "There's enough for everyone."
And under the starless skies, a summer wind blows. The fire dances and roasts flesh. It transforms their faces into fragile suns, each within its own dark infinity.
---
EDIT: Wow, thanks for all the feedback and the kind words. It means a lot. | Today is the day. The day I decide to quit living. Well not exactly. It's the day I quit living in the "present." I signed up for the new cryosleep trials. It's been rolled out and deemed safe so I figured why not? I never really fit into my small town. I grew up an outcast. Not that it was horrible. I was okay with it. Though when I saw opportunity to travel not just to a new place, but to a new time, I knew I had to. Driven by this urge to finally change my life in some way that felt bigger than myself. I went into the clinic. Not so much a clinic as it was a massive building dedicated to all sorts of new science discovery. Built to be the strongest in the world so no matter what happened the experiment would be succesful. I sat in the chair as the nurse checked my vitals, took some blood, and made sure I really wanted to do this. I never felt so sure of anything in my life I told her. I got real woozy after that. Next thing I know all I can feel is extreme cold. Colder than anything I've ever felt. The only way to describe it was like being submerged in dry ice. And something tells me that wouldn't even be as cold. There was something no one ever thought to do when they started these trials. They never checked brainwave activity of patients who were in suspended animation. My expectations were I'd fall asleep wake up in a jiff and thousands of years if not millions would have passed.i had never been so wrong in my life. Though my flesh was frozen, blood coagulated, and heart still. I could still think. And not only think. It was like a dream. And also like the worst nightmare I had ever had. The cold. No matter how hard I tried I was always cold. Unbareably. Cold. I couldn't move. Even in my own mind I couldn't move because the cold was so profound. I sat there in snow upon a large mountain. Which would have held immense beauty if I wasn't the world's largest fucking popsicle. It went on for months. For years. Decades had gone by. At this point I was numb. Not physically, but mentally. All I had thought about was when. When will it end? When will I feel warmth again? Then the worst thought came into my mind. When will I feel the warmth of my mother's love? Simply put. I wouldnt. I never would feel the embrace of my mother's heart as she held me tight in her arms. My father would never make a snide remark towards me again. My siblings? Just gone. I threw my life away. And for what? Exploration. To try to fit in. To find my own way. And truly all I had was cold. Now not only was I cold on the outside. I truly felt cold. Dead inside. After I came to this realization I cried. Not real tears of course, but in my projection of myself. And cried. When I finally stopped I just continued sitting there. In the snow. Waiting. So cold. All the sudden things got weird. Like brown acid trip times a million. I never felt so. . . Words can't describe the lucidity I didn't have. Just lost. A feeling like being born again. My eyes. They opened. Which felt like nails being driven into the front of my face. I was woozy but regaining my ability to think coherently. I saw a face that I never expected to see. It was her. My own mother. Turns out my dad passed a few years after I froze myself. Mom couldn't take the family drama anymore. My brother and sisters couldn't get along. Always fighting. Tearing the family apart. My mom just wanting to be done with it all signed up to be frozen as well. But with a stigma. She made sure she was in the same area as me. She made sure that she would be unfrozen just days before I was. I had only my mother in this new world. But in some way I was glad. I didn't care for anyone else. My mother. Was here. With me! I had grown so cold and morose waiting to come to this new wasteland. But now I felt warm again. I felt whole. I didn't really care anymore about what this new day and age would bring. I was just glad to have my mother. | 2016-09-13T22:56:05 | 2016-09-13T22:42:58 | 775 | 66 |
[WP] "Sir, we have found a planet so toxic and inhospitable, I could not even imagine a place so hostile. However, it even has sentient life, calling themselves "humans", who seem entirely unaffected!"
Number 1 in hot overnight. Yaaaaay...
Keep it up. Today, /r/WritingPrompts, tomorrow, the World! | [BEGIN TRANSLATION]
"They breathe *rocket fuel*?"
"Ye... yes sir. And..."
"They're immersed in the vapors of rocket fuel and you expect me to believe their whole planet doesn't simply combust?"
"Well... They *do* have combustion events with great regularity, but they never reach that scale..."
"Don't be a fool! We all know that [*Unintelligible*] would become like a sun if it had this amount of fuel gas!"
"Sir, they lack sufficient carbon."
"What?"
"Their... their combustion events end when their carbon is depleted. This planet swims not in methane, but in liquid ice!"
"In poison!"
"The life here consumes the liquid ice. It dies for lack of it."
"Preposterous. We visit this planet far too close to its sun to be habitable and you tell me stories of life-forms breathing rocket fuel and drinking a toxic solvent. Next you'll tell me they eat sunbeams!"
"Sir..."
"Teacher, you can't be serious."
"Firstborn, we harvested one of the dominant forms of life and found the only way for it to grow was outside the Shadow, in harsh solar irradiation, with liquid ice and the vapor of combusted carbon. The temperatures it required were so high we had to place its chambers nearer the rockets than any other chamber on this craft!"
"Is the dominant life form sentient?"
"No sir. It grows slowly and does not move, but..."
"Teacher?"
"This particular life form emits oxygen."
[*unintelligible rasping*]
"Firstborn, you mock me, but I believe we may have a solution to our fuel shortage. For the first time ever, we have domesticated a creature that reverts combusted carbon to release fuel."
"Very well, Teacher. You may harvest these... these *things*, but don't bring them to [*Unintelligible*]. Leave them on the labs in the Rings. If your claims are true, we may be able to risk further expeditions to this planet."
"Yes, sir."
"Be safe, Teacher, and take care to not burn yourself from the planet's heat."
[END OF SIGNAL] | When Martin was a child, he and his friends would play a game called 'Space Invaders' where one of their group is the 'alien' and the rest of them were poor humans trying to escape from him. In truth, the game was just tag with another name but it was an inspired idea for an eight year old.
Turns out, being abducted by aliens was a lot different.
Not as scary as his adult brain would have imagined.
"Look, just send me back down, alright?" Martin sighed as the strange creature cowered away from him. It was a short little thing, barely coming up to his chest, and its skin was a dark purple. It blinked its three green eyes, the lids sliding in from the sides. Ever since he stepped through the spray of black light in front of his cell, the aliens have been panicking.
Martin held up his hands, hoping to show he wasn't a threat. The alien gurgled in panic and pressed back against the wall, trying to get away from him. He lowered his hands.
"I have a test tomorrow and no one is going to believe me when I say I got beamed up into some spaceship," Martin grumbled, more to himself than the alien.
He looked around the room, hoping something would give him a clue as to how to get out. There were panels of buttons and monitors, flashing lights, each labeled with symbols that he could only assume were some kind of language. To the right of a door was what Martin could only describe as a poster, featuring one of the purple aliens in staring out at the room, bold symbols splayed out under him.
"Mrfpphs!"
Martin turned around as a door on the other side of the room opened with a 'twamp' and a dozen of the strange creatures emerged, holding what was obviously a gun. Martin slowly lifted his hands again.
"Um..."
The creature in front, who was slightly taller than the others, with a paler purple line over its center eye, lifted the gun and fired. Martin closed his eyes, feeling a coldness spread over his chest.
Nothing happened.
Martin peeked an eye open to see the alien that had fired at him staring, its eyes wide. He looked down at his chest and saw the front of his ratty old t-shirt was soaked. He pressed a finger to the stain.
"...Did you just shoot me with a water gun?"
There was silence as the aliens all stared at him in open terror. Then they fired their weapons again.
"Hey!" Martin brought his arms up, trying to cover his face from the water. It didn't hurt like the aliens had clearly expected it to but it was still annoying.
He felt a set of cold cold, three-fingered hands grab him and begin pulling him. They weren't all that strong, in all honesty, and they kept pulling their hands off of him as though burned, but Martin let them usher him forward onto a pad in the center of the room.
"So, is this going to - "
There was a blinding flash of light then darkness then a field.
A cow looked up at him, its mouth steadily chewing, before it looked back to the ground, walking past him.
Martin looked at the cow then up at the sky. Above him, the silvery saucer hovered for a moment, the lights ringing it flashing like an alarm before it disappeared in a streak of light, vanishing back into the stars.
Martin looked back around him, seeing nothing but grass, hills, cows, and cow droppings.
"Damn it."
They didn't even leave him his shoes.
* * *
(First time writing something here... did not expect it to be this.)
| 2016-11-07T15:22:28 | 2016-11-07T15:18:58 | 904 | 200 |
[WP] You live in a dystopian society divided into 10 levels of increasing wealth. Every level is only aware of those below it. You and your family believe yourself to be the highest class, but one day a man from 3 levels above comes to visit you, with some very disturbing information.
Edit: Thank you kind stranger! I appreciate the appreciation but really you should be Guilding the amazing writers below! Happy reading! | "What do you mean you are 3 levels above me?" I asked, puzzled.
"That's exactly what I mean, I am 3 levels richer than you" he replied. "You see, our society was created that people are only aware of the levels below them, hence believing themselves to be the most fortunate people on earth, hence keeping them happy".
"But what about those in the lowest rungs?" I asked "Who do they compare themselves to?"
"Nobody. They just believe they live in a socialist utopia where everybody's income level is the same".
"But don't they run into people who are wealthier than they are in every day life?"
"Well, I am not sure how that works. Possibly OP didn't think it through so well".
"Who is OP?" I asked, bewildered at this new revelation.
"Oh, that's the one who posts a submission on which this scenario is based".
"What do you mean?" I hated sounding dumb at this point but I couldn't help myself. What he was describing was a truly bizarre world that made no sense at all.
"I mean, I am 3 levels above you because someone said so and you couldn't have possibly known of my existence prior to this even if we worked in the same office and I was your boss, driving a nicer car and living in a bigger house".
"That is truly disturbing what you are describing. I am not quite sure what you are talking about but it makes no sense to me whatsoever".
"Well you just perfectly described r/writingprompts"
| "It was incredible. The power we had.
We had developed technology to become one with magic and science.
We were a 10.00, we had an enormous mansion made out of the purest diamond.
We had rocket propelled cars, cures to all diseases, technology that enabled us to travel through time, sound, and light.
We had trillions of dollars. Our minds were made stronger by bioneurology. We were the greatest.
It was a stormy day when it happened. The man. Or, I guess not a man, a thing. I can't explain it in these inconvenient words, I'll explain it in metoppintosis. Oh right, you can't access that. Um.... Well its hard to explain. A thing, but not a thing. A being of no depth, no width. SOmething I could see, but couldn't. Through some communication that he gave me access to, he told me that we were the lowest rank. In the spirit dimension, as he called it, they didn't use numbers. Us humans had made our own ranks, but we were the lowest. Our society wasn't divided up, our society was 1 rank, the lowest.
The man was a 3.
He showed me things beyond my wildest imagination.
He knew the meaning of life. I know it sounds weird, but I couldn't understand it. It was like teaching a monkey an algebra problem. Or rather a bacterium.
We just couldn;t get it, no matter what.
He had the power to alter the universe, he told me of a manta, in which there were septoverses, in which there were omniverses, in which there were hyperverses, in which there were multiverse, in which there were universes. I looked at him.
Each verse believed themselves to be the biggest. But then he told me that the entire Manta, was just one rank. The mirror dimension was the 2nd, and The spirit dimension was the third, and what lied above that, was unknown. But as I was trying to comprehend that, I saw a level ten, a _________ from the ______________________. And that, is what killed me, combusted my brain.
Even in death, I will never forget what happened to me.
By the way.....
Hello Reader!!!!!!!!!
I know I'm in a writing prompt, the level ten told me. So you are beyond the 10 levels? Wow..... I can't imagine the level ten on your earth. Or if your in a writing prompt, and the level ten on that earth.
Think about that.
By the way,
Skulduggery,
Your story sucks.
Make me alive again.
And then the man became alive."
"Nice story"said the __________.
_________________ replied the _______
They discussed it together_____________________
The level tens didn't even know, all ten of there dimensions was only rank 1.
In a endless cycle of ranks.
| 2016-12-05T18:17:53 | 2016-12-05T16:51:17 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] "The light can never go out," explained the old lighthouse operator. "Ships don't need us. Haven't in quite some time. It's the people here on land who'll suffer if that light ever goes out." | Simon Shivered. He'd been told such a long time ago by the old lighthouse operator that "Ships Don't need us. Haven't in quite some time. It's the people here on land who'll suffer if that light ever goes out.".
Then he remembered the keeper's final words on his deathbed. "Whatever you do, keep the light focussed exactly where it is, never turn the handle, always keep the bright light shining right there, towards the centre of town."
He knew his job was the most important in the entire country. Without him, constantly tending to the ancient lighthouse, Bad Things would happen.
He also knew that no-one truly believed this, and as a result they'd stopped contributing to the fund for replacement light bulbs.
Well, it would truly be their own fault once the final bulb, which was sputtering and making clicking sounds even now died and there were no replacements within 500 miles.
Then with a final SNICK! the bulb flashed brightly as if in warning and went out.
Darkness instantly descended on the town, swamping the land in blackness completely, not waiting to stroll into town like some sort of demonic presence.
Within 5 minutes, the screaming started.
Simon tried to block his ears, but without success. And there in the deep blackness a faint white light rose from the middle of the city, and the Justin Bieber concert finally began.
| "The light can never go out," explained the old lighthouse operator. "Ships don't need us. Haven't in quite some time. It's the people here on land who'll suffer if that light ever goes out." He took a sip of his beer.
I didn't quite understand him, I just stared as we sat by the cliff, darkness enveloped the sky and darkened the rock, a moment of passing light from the tower would bring colour for a brief fleeting moment. The sounds of waves crashing against the cliff was soothing and yet a reminder of what lay below.
"I don't understand," I said, frowning, he simply stared onward as he took another sip, he stared into the vastness of the dark sea, its waters momentarily glistened like a drape of silk by the passing light.
I heard footsteps, barely able to hear them over the sound of the crashing waves, I looked up, dark silhouettes appeared over the cliff above, people from the town further in, more and more of them came, but none together, all alone and all silent, none acknowledging the others existence.
Many brought blankets, some just a drink, none looked at each as they sat down, just looking onward, just onward across the endless abyss as the lighthouse would momentarily illuminate the cluster.
"The people in this town wake up everyday and do what they do everyday," the lighthouse operator said, chipping away at the paper wrapped around the beer bottle, "at night, they simply come here in unison, but alone, some come because of stress, some because they are tired, some because they are angry, whatever their troubles, it does not matter, nor does anyone talk about it, but they are told to follow the guiding light to find their way, and so they sit there, for hours, quietly, whatever their problem is, and then they go home, and see the same people they saw the night before with smiles on their faces like nothing happened," he continued, half talking to himself, his eyes were pits of sorrow, regret had drilled it way inside, nested, and made those eyes empty shells of what once was happiness, "but here, here is the one place where time stands still, here is the one place, they can escape from their bubble and nothing else matters, as the light guides them into sanctuary."
I became silent, I didn't know what else to say, "you have to let me go," the words were sour in my mouth, melancholic and filled with regret, tears draped down the old wrinkles on the mans face, he took another sip with trembling hands, trying to muffle his sobs.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, they were the final words we shared, as he sat there alone, the child who he would see every night, once more gone, all that was left was guilt and quiet sobs. | 2017-02-22T12:25:17 | 2017-02-22T08:57:52 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] Lonely and confident that you're the last person on Earth, You sign onto Reddit to browse old memes and jokes but realize there's a new AMA from a person claiming to be the last person on Earth. | Waking from my cryosleep in three thousand and ten,
I logged back into Reddit, to see old memes again.
I clicked upon the front page, and to my surprise,
saw "Ask Me Anything, I'm the last person left alive".
I posted "is this really true?", and F5'd with breath bated.
They wrote, "I need help so the earth can be repopulated!"
I thought, well, armageddon isn't so bad after all,
my chances were much worse before society's last fall.
But then I checked their history, to see what they had posted;
Fifteen thousand rage comics. Suffice to say, I ghosted. | I sit alone in my room. It’s a cleaned out conference room in a library at my old university. I had just spent the entire day scavenging in what I have been calling the wastes. The food is getting scarce. The bottled water even more so now. I have been alone since it happened.
At first it was a joke, people on Reddit started calling it the Happening. Before long it was over. People were over. All the memes in all the world couldn’t save us. There was a lone voice of warning among the millions of others who joked their way to the end of humanity. We lost his voice long before the real end.
Thankfully mankind was able to convert most of its energy needs to renewable sources like solar and wind. And thankfully most of the servers and infrastructure that make the internet work is automated and powered through renewables so I can still browse my favorite websites.
I spent the last several years watching every show I ever heard any one talk about and visiting and reading every corner of the internet. Tonight I will visit Reddit one last time and then that will be my end. I’ve decided there is no tomorrow. I can’t continue to live in a world with no one else. Old words from the long dead are no longer a comfort but a biting memory of what once was.
As I log onto Reddit a wave of nostalgia washes over me so completely I start to get light headed. I see the old familiar layout of my once favorite website.
“What’s this?” I say out loud. There is a new post, from last week. It reads, “I am back. I am the last survivor, AMA”.
The latest edit, made this morning reads: If anyone can read this I am in trouble. I had a bad accident and am communicating this through my phone via voice to text. I had an accident as the lights went out and I fell down the stairs breaking both arms and legs. If anyone is out there please come find. I need help.
I quickly look to see the user name. It’s from verifiedson. I stop reading and I close my laptop.
| 2017-08-18T01:25:54 | 2017-08-18T01:22:07 | 173 | 10 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | It's the best deal in town. You can be the student you always wanted to be. However long it takes. You'll get there, to have the time of your life. When I wanted him. History doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. Sunny and 72 degrees. Except where prohibited by law. He grabbed her hand.
She stopped twisting the radio dial and stepped outside, into the sunshine. | First time responding to a prompt, so be gentle.
Grixbrug gave a soft, uninspired sigh. Nothing he did could affect the world anymore. His steps made no impacts into the ground; his bow would not draw; he could knock an arrow, but it wouldn't leave his inventory. How long had he been stuck in this hell.
At this point he didn't even care. Their party had started with five members; a team that, Grixbrug decided, would be more than enough to venture deep into these infamous, dangerous caverns in a timely manner. Three had been members of Grix's own race, while their group had also managed to recruit a mighty Shu'halo and an agile Sin'dorei to assist.
The Shu'halo was the first to leave their party, surprisingly. Not even their ability to harness nature and transform themselves into a mighty beast was enough.
Though the party had, without their Shu'halo companion, attempted to proceed, disaster was rapidly approaching. It wasn't more than a minute later that everybody else had disappeared.
The Sin'dorei, the last of his allies that Grix would ever see, had remained visible for but a moment. The agile woman had attempted to sneak around the vile serpents, attempting to use their skills at agility to remove on of Grix's enemies from the fight for a moment. The cursed event that had doomed his party brought her forward just as she was about to strike. Instead of being hidden in the shadows, the Sin'dorei was plainly visible. Grix watched in horror as she was eviscerated in a few short seconds; these were not enemies to mess around with.
After a few seconds of recollection of how things had gone on, Grix realized what had happened.
He saw it. The more infamous sight anyone like Grix could know.
'World server is down.' | 2017-08-30T06:54:31 | 2017-08-30T06:35:06 | 5,691 | 10 |
[WP] Write a seemingly innocuous story, but the last line reveals how chilling and horrific the story actually was. | I'm a good dog.
I don't poop on the carpets, I don't bark in the middle of the night, I don't steal mom's food, I don't bite shoes.
I'm a good dog.
I love cats, I don't bark at anyone, I don't attack anyone, I won't jump at people.
I'm a good dog.
I let Josh come into the house at night, but only if I get a milkbone. Dogs are supposed to friendly, so I'm friendly to everyone!
But I don't like shouting and loud noises.
Josh always makes loud noises whenever he's over, so I stay away from him.
One day, Josh came in with some of his friends. I let them in because I'm a good dog.
There was lots of noise that night.
I hated it, the noise, the smell of alcohol on Josh and his friends. And I hated how mom would get sad after Josh left.
Tonight is the night I don't let Josh in.
The moment Josh climbed through the window, I barked at him, I barked so much. I haven't barked this much in so long.
I remember mom screaming as I bit down on Josh's neck.
I'm a good dog.
| Steve, who did not exist, returned to his dull and altogether not real house of no significance from a long day of work at Not a Business Inc., ate his bland dinner of Nothing With a side of Emptiness, and went to sleep in a bed that might have been real if it existed at all. Steve didn’t exist at all, which makes the very existence of this story a paradox, but don’t pay attention to that. Instead pay attention to the fact that, really, it would be nice if he did exist. In fact, Steve decided when he woke up to an incorporeal world, he rather wanted to exist. So Steve set out to achieve this unachievable goal, which could not be achieved because it did not exist. The first thing to do, Steve decided, would be to do more things that people who exist do. With this in mind, Steve tried to act like a nonfictional person. He began to drive an immaterial automobile. He joined an insubstantial aquatics club, where he would float in dreamlike water and further ponder his absent goal. After a few vacant weeks of this, Steve had made no progress. Steve decided to take a different approach to his intangible goal. He began to attempt to conjure things. Now, unreal as his world was, Steve couldn't conjure things, but he did pretend that he could. He imagined a kingdom that he was the monarch of, where his extramundane subjects would work under his rule. He held imaginary parades biannually to celebrate his fictitious progress at becoming real. But, nonexistent as Steve and his subjects were, they could achieve nothing. Steve however, was not disheartened. He decided to alter his figmental efforts. He studied fake books on imaginary anthropology to try and determine what it was that made other humans exist. He toiled without end, but yet again, his asomatous efforts were to no avail. Eventually, the nonexistent guy named Steve quit. He let out an inaudible and chimerical yell of frustration. As Steve trudged back to his droll house at Ersatz Lane, he dejectedly thought to himself, “All I know is that I know nothing. How can illusions be unreal, yet the illusion exists?” As Steve uttered these words, his arm began to disappear, starting at the fingers, working up to his shoulder, and it didn’t stop there. His upper body and head began to disappear as the paradox worked its way through Steve’s nonexistent world. As the last of Steve’s toes vanished from Nowhere, Steve suddenly appeared with a loud bang in the real world, in 15th century Europe, right in the middle of an Anti-Witchcraft rally. A man looked at Steve and yelled the first real words Steve had ever heard. “Burn the witch!” | 2017-10-06T14:58:03 | 2017-10-06T13:52:37 | 130 | 18 |
[WP] A man watches his girlfriend repeatedly fail the “I’m not a robot,” test while checking out during online shopping. He comes to the realization she is indeed, a robot. | "Will you just come show me?!"
"Fine," said Harold, a forty-six-year-old senator, married with three kids, sitting beside his new girlfriend in their hotel room. He had met her two weeks ago at a fundraiser, and though she was much younger, and seemed immature, he found her advances irresistible and agreed to a discrete relationship. "Just click on the shopping cart," he instructed. "Ok, now click 'proceed to checkout'. Good, now just type in this credit card number." Sandra typed as he read the numbers. "Ok, now just check the little box and click continue."
Sandra flicked her wrist and checked the box with precision. The page blanked, its waiting icon in the tab spinning, and then it reloaded with an error. "Hmm, try again," said Harold.
Again, the same flick of the wrist follwed by a click. Again, the page blanked, hung, and reloaded with the same checkbox error.
"That's strange," thought Harold. Sandra tried again, and then again, but always found the same result; after the sixth time, Harold grew uneasy. Something about the motion disturbed him: that mechanical flick of the wrist followed by a click, hitting the box dead center—every time.
Harold had noticed before that his new girlfriend moved with a certain jerkiness or snappiness: for example, chopping a large carrot once while preparing dinner—he saw her hand jerk across the cutting board in a violent blur, reducing the carrot to perfectly-cut intervals in an instant. She must be a seasoned chef, he had thought. And whenever she ran, he had noticed that her hands flattened and sliced the air at her sides like T-1000 from Terminator 2. At the time, he simply thought it was a funny habit, nothing more.
But now, as Harold watched her in a loop of flicking and clicking, these observations came rushing back and began to fuel suspicion. He recalled their times in bed, and the strangeness there now dawned on him as well—how she would reach climax at exactly the same time as he did, every time, and how her orgasmic vocalizations and physical contortions were always the same.
In his head, the pieces began to converge; and as Harold stared at her, his mind flashed back to the fundraiser: It was for New World Robotics, an organization for the global advancement of AI, founded by an eccentric roboticist, Yukato Satamoshi. Reports had surfaced that Satamoshi was being funded by the Japanese government, and that he had constructed a secret lab into which he funneled all funds to create androids, programmed for espionage—to be deployed around the world to covertly wrest polical control. But these reports were just fabrications, he had thought.
Looking at her more intently, Harold began to inch away from Sandra, who was on her 46th attempt.
Something in his tense demeanor alerted her, and she stopped clicking. Turning to him slowly, with an expression of concern painted over a tinge of what could only be described as malice, she asked: "What's wrong, Harold?"
"Nothing," he replied, standing up, backing towards the door. "I uh, I just need to go check something. I'll be back in 10 minutes."
She read his expression, his stammering, his nervous shrinking, his fumbling, and understood. As he turned around to unbolt the door of the hotel, a voice came from behind, still human but more synthetic now: "I'm afraid I can't let you leave, Harold."
| James looked down and closed his eyes.
"In a minute, James. These things are getting way harder than they used to be, huh?"
The man moved his head, opened his eyes, and stared at the girl sitting at his desk as he sipped from his mugful of coffee. He waited. His focus sat inquisitively upon his younger lover as she, in all her cutesy fashion, tried to finish up the movie seat reservation for their date later tonight.
A few minutes passed, fact. The steam that had previously seated the top of James's coffee cup was now gone.
"Liz, are you sure you don't want me to do it?" James asked the girl.
"Pffft, what kind of moron would I be if I couldn't figure out what a traffic sign or a storefront looks like, huh? Relax, I got this. Go get dressed or something," she kept clicking away with her mouse.
James sighed and walked over to his closet. He stripped down. Undid a few buttons and zippers. A few minutes later, he was dressed shoe to shoulder in that get-up she always liked. She said it showed off his shoulders really well the last time he saw her.
"Oooh. I like it." Liz peered over from her laptop as she sat on the man's bed. "Shows off your shoulder real nicely."
He blushed and inquired if she had gotten the ticket ordeal sorted yet.
"No, afraid not. Site must be fucked up or something because I know I'm hitting these pictures right and it's just not letting me get through."
James sighed. "You know we don't have to go to the movies, right? We can always stay in. Maybe, we could just go on a walk to the park or something?"
"What, you afraid if we drive or something I'll get fucked up in some accident?"
----
A bright flash.
**System error detected. Memory leak occurring. Would you like to abort?**
Then, nothing.
----
"No," James shook his head. "I'm just saying, we've gone out to the movies or mall or something every single date since last week. It'd be nice to try something different."
"Look, if you're just making me feel better about this stupid spambot verification, it's not going to work. You've been talking my ear off about this movie through the past two weeks and now I want to see it too. Relax."
"I am relaxed." James was not relaxed.
James moved for the laptop. Liz closed it and yanked it back. Her eyes scanned him over with a queer look over her eyebrows. James's brows were furrowed downward. His thin lips frowned.
"What is with you today? You've been on edge all morning?"
"It's nothing."
Liz laughed, "Bull-fucking-shit. I said that all the time and you know it's almost never nothing except for when it is actually nothing."
---
A bright flash.
**System error detected. An unexpected call to memory access has occurred. Would you like to abort?**
Then, nothing.
---
James didn't respond.
"Dude, I don't know what the fuck's going on with you this morning. You call me this morning asking to cancel plans today on account of a cold. I come by to visit and surprise, you don't have a cold. I ask if you can come with me for lasagna at an Italian place next to the theater and you say you can make lunch instead... Christ, what the hell, James?"
James refused to respond.
"Talk to me, dammit. What's going on?"
James stared at his feet, "I cheated on you."
Liz stared daggers into his eyes before relaxing her gaze and stretching her mouth into a cheeky grin, "Yeah, who with?"
"Uhh... you know... some girl at a-" James looked through the options in his head. Bar? A cafe? A grocery store?
"You don't drink. You hate coffee. You order your groceries online. Think of another," she read his mind rather clearly. "Alright, you are clearly not thinking straight at all. I'm leaving."
"Don't leave," James snapped. Then, he took a deep breath. "Please."
"James, you need to get your shit together. Just stop. Get your bearings. Try something else. Because clearly, our time together isn't working out," the girl said.
James looked on and closed his eyes.
---------------------------------------------
James took off his headset. He looked at the time. It was about three in the morning. He was at his desk, plugged into his computer again. He pulled a few wires and the machine clicked off.
There was a bright flash of light from his monitor. A few drops of white LED light splashed into his eyes, blinding him for a moment. The rest of it fell onto a little picture frame on his desk.
James looked at the picture of a happy couple and blocked out the image. He smashed it face-down towards his desk and laid back into his chair.
James looked up and closed his eyes.
| 2018-01-07T11:29:08 | 2018-01-07T10:46:19 | 58 | 10 |
[WP] Every single person born, is paired with a freshly coded AI that will be their companion for the entirety of their lives and grow with them. After being dead for years, you are surprised to see your AI has somehow managed to follow you into the afterlife. | “I was wondering where you’d gotten to.” The voice startled me out of my depressed stupor. It was as smooth and fabricated as it was before my death but somehow softer, as though the harsh electric buzz of the speakers vibrations had been removed. Turning to face the voice’s origin I smiled as my twin stared back.
We were dressed the same, just as tall and we even had the same dirty auburn hair. Only hers was much longer. ‘Her’. I was looking at a female version of myself. It only made sense, a body to match the voice. But it was more than that. I had joked for the entirety of our existence that we were twins. And here - somehow - she had made that a reality. Tentatively I walked over to her, making my way across the rubble-strewn ground.
We stood staring at each other for ages; minutes, hours, it was impossible to tell in this place. But eventually I reached out to hug her. She was there. Solid. Unlike the myriad of watches, implants and other computerised hardware that had contained her mind for all these years, this time she was here. Not a Hologram, but properly here. As my tears splashed on her shoulder, for the first time ever she hugged me back.
We bumped our foreheads together as I pulled a little bit out of the hug only to be brought back in by her needy arms. I was so lonely before, not once in my life had we been apart until my death. All I wanted to do was cry from the sheer happiness of hearing her voice again. But she’d have told me to stop, in that caring way she always had. Instead I let out a chuckle of disbelief before giving her another quick hug.
Sharing a comforting smile we turned back to the landscape, taking in the bleakness of it. The grey wastes stretching off into nothingness. Patches of ruined buildings collapsed between rocky outcrops. I felt her hand slide into mine and we just stood there, surveying the land. “I’m glad you’re here.” I said, my voice faltering as I held back tears. I squeezed her hand, attempting to steel my own nerves along with hers as we set off into the grey unknown. | The year is 4375. My name is Marcus Feícuo. I am-was... 22 years old... I lived in Eoxera, a utopia of sorts where every child is given a life partner in the form of an AI. They’re built perfectly to fit you. Nobody is ever lonely while alive. However, these AI are not living beings, they don’t contain souls. So, in our final moments we have to say our goodbyes as the AI lay beside us. It’s always heart breaking.
My great aunt died of old age, and her AI, a dog named Xena, sat there, it’s soft blue servos watching her as it’s fans whirr. And just as her heart stops, a stream of oil leaks from what would be considered her AI’s eye. With that it shut down forever.
I was 4 at the time, I didn’t completely understand, but it stuck with me my whole life. AIs cannot be brought with you to the afterlife. They just, don’t have the spirit. And their cold empty husks of metal scraps and oil are repurposed into a new AI for a baby with meticulous care. My AI is from the scraps of my great great grandfather’s AI. Supposedly it was a bear, however my AI... Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m dead now anyways! I was out with friends, we went and did karaoke after riding a few coasters at the amusement park... So of course I had to die in the most cliche way frickin’ possible!! I shoved my friend out of the way of an orbitary garbage truck, getting sucked into the vacuum of this tamed black hole vehicle like an idiot! At least Kiriza should be alive now. But me? I’m trapped in this seemingly endless foggy grey wasteland of our society’s supposed utopia. No people, no games, only a towering endless number of plain grey and empty buildings rolling with mist and fog. Suddenly there’s a loud scraping sound behind me!! A large, hulking, shadowy humanoid-monster of a being leaps at me, snarling, drooling its only dribble as it lusts to devour my flesh like some rabid dog! There are many smaller ones around the same size as me that eagerly surge around me.
Then!! A flash of ethereal silvery-blue and the strange and twisted beings are dead... Their bodies were at first masked by fear and darkness, but now the twisted and writhing deformed flesh is festering and twitching in death throes. But this hero of silver simply exists in the middle of this minefield of disturbing corpses. And I gasp in shock upon looking at them...
...
Soft green eyes glow, lights and circuits. Silver and dark teal metal plates meshing into a riveted face with long stainless steel fangs. This plated shape coils into a familiar shape of comfort. A 5 foot long viper with silvery teal scales and brilliant green glowing eyes. My AI!! Léxico!!
AI... But... AI CAN’T BE IN THE AFTERLIFE!!! I panic, the quick shallow breaths would normally make my lungs burn as I slowly work myself up to passing out. However, I’m a drifting spirit. Translucent with a misty blue form. And Lex is my guardian angel. Then it hits me. Angel... whatever this is, wherever I’m going in this afterlife. My guide must have taken my companion’s form to comfort me. But... the question remains. What is my guide? Out of the billions of religions we know of, which creature and which all powerful being has claimed me to drag into their domain?
Where is it guiding me to if it’s not my AI, my Léxico? | 2019-02-14T19:00:26 | 2019-02-14T18:57:07 | 328 | 35 |
[WP] The last thing you remember is the car crash. In your will, you stated that you wanted your brain to be cryogenically frozen so that one day you might be reanimated. Suddenly, you awake in a cryo-pod, with text displayed over a screen in front of your face: "When you wake up, run like hell." | CONTENT WARNING: blood, graphic imagery
---
His eyelids flew open in a burst of pain and fluid light, and inches before his pupils flashed a polychrome text:
*WHEN YOU WAKE UP, RUN LIKE HELL!*
The words had only barely swarmed into his brain when a loud burst of pneumatic gas thundered against his eardrums and the world of solid blue around him started to shatter to the ground, giving away to a kaleidoscope of lights and shapes.
He fell to the ground somehow and looked behind in a scared panic, seeing the black casket-like box he had apparently come from, a freezing blue gel pouring from it and sticking to his body and face. His lungs suddenly started to scream, realizing there was nothing in them. Air began to force its way through all his rusty pathways, burning like frozen razors slicing lines down his throat. He wanted to cry, but his body refused, and the pressure nearly melted his eyes from their sockets.
Only the large word RUN echoed around in his trembling brain, and before his lungs even finished inflating, his legs came to life and bolted forward. The man looked down in a fit of pure fear and found that where his organic limbs had once been was now a stitched amalgamation of machine and skinless meat, blood streaming down the bits of shiny platinum with every electric pulse of muscle.
Every step sent waves of lightning pain racing through the man's spine, but it continued all the same, oblivious to his crying pleas. His entire body was like his legs, he now noticed, a machine of crude gears spinning and grinding into human flesh, sprinting forward incoherently like an organic night terror.
He suddenly saw a creature next to him, disfigured and abominated by its creator. Yet another disgusting homunculus of steel and flesh, it ran in the same direction he did, and then he noticed the face.
It was a human face contorted in agony, and that was when it all came rushing back. How he was driving home one day when a car crashed into his, sending him tumbling off a cliff and how he was trapped in the wreckage below. How he desperately hated the idea of dying. How he wrote it into his will years before. How his brain was to be preserved cryogenically should he pass away. It all came rushing back as his psychotic body continued to rush blindly forward.
More and more creations of unholy, mechanical and biological origin appeared to the right and left, and all of them sprinted alongside each other, prints of blood where they stepped and pools of reddish oil trailing in their wake. They knew not why they were there nor where they were headed, but their silent screams of suffering and regret created a grand symphony that would surely last the ages.
*Congratulations! Racehorse #7 is the winner!*
| Hot, searing, *stabbing* pain. Screeching metal, smashing glass. Blinding light. *Agony*.
Then, cold. A soft humming sound, like distant whirring fans, or an air conditioning unit. A faint blue light seeping through my eyelids. Blearily, I opened them, taking a moment to focus on the narrow display in front of me. A band of words, directly in my line of sight.
*When you wake up, run like hell.*
"Huh?" Was all I could say, before a door I wasn't aware of swung open in front of me, pulling the display away, and I was shunted bodily by whatever I was laying on out of my resting place.
I landed hard on cold concrete, and had a chance to see my hands. They looked...odd. Something was off about them. The fingers looked too long, the nails were the wrong shape. My arms were covered from the wrist up in a skintight suit of some kind. The material was strange, not quite fabric, or rubber, or metal. Somewhere in the middle.
There was suddenly a loud, blaring alarm behind me, and I jerked my head around, trying to spot the source. The pod I woke up in was gone, somehow, and a large door was slowly sliding into the ceiling. Behind it, something moved in shadows. I couldn't really see it, but I felt a horrible dread, and quickly decided that I didn't want to. I scrambled to my feet, looking ahead. I was in a wide hallway, about 40 feet across and 10 feet high, extending far away until abruptly ending in a set of double doors. The walls were painted white, and the floor was smooth concrete. White light panels covered almost all the ceiling.
I cast another glance behind me. The door was fully open, and while I couldn't see all the way into the darkness, I got a sense of...too many. Too many what? Eyes? Limbs? Something horribly vague and unsettling.
I started walking, away from the yawning darkness, towards the double doors. I heard something wet behind me. I looked back, and saw multiple appendages reaching out of the dark. They looked like emaciated human arms and legs, all a sickly green and dripping a dark fluid, somewhere between blood and oil. They grasped at the air and slapped the ground blindly, seeking purchase.
I picked up my pace, jogging towards the doors. My feet, despite being covered by the suit, made some noise as I moved. I felt very clumsy, more than I remembered being. Did I remember? I couldn't tell. I didn't have time to think past that, because I suddenly heard much more frantic slapping behind me. Looking over my shoulder I saw the limbs dragging something out of the dark, a writhing, oozing behemoth.
I looked away and started running in earnest, slamming full force into the door. It didn't budge. I grabbed the handle, turning and pushing as hard as I could. Still, nothing. The slapping was getting louder, accompanied by an oily *sliding* sound, and something that sounded horribly like a diseased wheezing from many mouths. I pushed frantically, smacking the door. Then I desperately pulled. The door swung open easily, revealing another hallway, narrower than the first, with what looked like a branching path at the end.
Deciding to berate myself for my stupidity later, I dashed through the door, not daring to look back. Partway down the hall, colored lines began on the walls. They had labels written in a language I couldn't recognize, the blocky script looking like something halfway between English and Chinese. Three of the lines went left, two went right. I tried to make sense of which one might lead to an exit. I decided to try following the red line, and went left, along with a yellow and green line. I sprinted down the hall, trying to think of what to do if this wasn't the exit. I could still hear the wet slapping and squelching and wheezing, but couldn't bring myself to look around. Run like hell, they said. Who was I to argue?. | 2019-02-28T23:12:00 | 2019-02-28T23:10:08 | 137 | 61 |
[WP] The date is April 1st 2020. Your town is deftly quiet for a Wednesday, but that’s because this time last year there came an April Fools prank that got so far out of hand that the town had to outlaw April Fools Day. That prank was yours and this is your confession. | Four pigs.
That's all my dad said I needed. Four pigs. Oh, and some grease and some paint. You take four pigs and write the numbers "one" "two" "three" and "five" on them, let it dry, slather them in grease and set them loose somewhere. The joke back then was that everyone would spend a day or so looking for number four.
But my dumbass just HAD to crank it up. I decided that since my dad was a teenager in the early 70's, that people probably all already knew the gig. So how do we play with their prejudices?
Simple.
Let number four loose in the school 2 days after.
I was good about it, even left two scoops of manure in the hallways the night before.
Suddenly they don't know what to believe. They are sweeping the halls and school rooms.
That's all I did.... For that year...
Next year, I did the same. But now Number two was the one to show up four days later.
And the next year five.... And six... Both let loose in the halls sequentially a week later.
So we come to senior year. My mistake, believe it or not, was NOT doing anything. Now admin is looking for five to six greased pigs. Things are getting insane. Nobody can find any pigs but dammit are they absolutely sure they are around somewhere.
As I'm pulling up to the school parking lot, a friend stops me. It's Jerry. He says school is closed last minute. Admin decided to smoke the pigs out using some chemical. Who building had to be taken off the grid and sealed up save for a few key exit points where teams of people waited with nets in hand.
This is getting ridiculous.
Then the explosion. Apparently the electrician missed something when all power was being drained. Somewhere in the home ed. room, a refigerator's compressor clicks on and BOOM.
So that's why we aren't allowed to have fun anymore and why I'm banned from local livestock auctions.... | The camera pans out and the blur on the lens reduces as the image focuses on a fairly young boy.
About 12 or so, he has tan skin, black hair, round glasses and a mischievous glint in his eyes that would definitely make you peg him as a troublemaker.
He clears his throat and the camcorder shakes as he reaches forward and adjusts it one more time.
>Captain's log, day 93, year 2019.
>So. I think I may have gotten in over my head. I mean... Yeah, definitely over my head.
>It's not enough that I caught my older brother and sister doing...*it*. But that I also sent the entire town, no, the entire **Island** into a panic. Pretty sure the sheriff is still going around town knocking on people's doors and making sure they know that the incoming missile alert was a fluke and that no, the island isn't getting nuked.
>Look, I just want to clarify to anyone seeing this in the future that it's not totally my fault... It's partly the state's for having such crappy security.
>I mean, I was just hanging out around the mountain base highways and skateboarding up and down when I see this giant building with all sorts of satellites and antenna sticking out, and, well, the fence was wide open for anyone to wander into. Door's were unlocked too.
>...And... when I saw the console with the two options, I figured that drills happen all the time, right? And wouldn't it be funny if, today of all days, there was a drill when *no-one* was expecting it? Of course, there were two options, and I didn't know which one of the two options was the drill, but I figured that neither could be anything two serious, right? I mean, what type of idiot would place a real life missile threat alert option in the same facility, much less the same computer as a missile drill, right? RIGHT?
>And so I just clicked the... err... lowest option? Because *I don't know* I figured lower means less dangerous?
>And then I just ran. I mean RAN! Out of the facility. Soon as I hit the pavement of the road, I skateboarded my butt all the way home, laughing and looking back to make sure I wasn't being chased... But when I got home and opened the door to my big bro's room to tell him the genius prank I just did... I saw him... and big sis... *EHK*
>I mean, later on, when I found out that I hadn't started a drill, but accidentally clicked the actual alert button, and people were basically thinking they were going to do, I can get why people would do things they normally wouldn't... but still!
>Mom and dad were talking about the false alert today over breakfast. I just tried to keep my head low. No way was I letting them know I did it! And big sis and bro weren't even meeting each other's eyes! They were as quiet as I was. Maybe even more!
>Anyway, I think I'm done with pranks for a few years, atleast until things quiet down around here, and I hope bro and sis work their issues out... Well, hopefully not **work** it out.. Oh jeez, think I'm gonna be sick *Blegh!*
>Captain's log. Over.
| 2019-04-02T21:20:08 | 2019-04-02T20:25:05 | 326 | 23 |
[WP] Magic suddenly becomes a thing. While governments are scrambling to establish regulations, people defiantly flock to reddit to share new discoveries and crack more “overpowered” spells. Write about a trending post that, for good or ill, is making authorities furious. | r/FoundSpells
u/ MagickalBoi2019 - 42 minutes ago
**[FS] I think I built an unlimited energy machine!**
Check it. If you put a pinwheel inside a box, and seal it. Poke a hole small enough for a straw, and then blow into it to start the pinwheel moving.
When it’s moving, cast this spell:“Ventus Movens”, but be sure to cast it on the air inside the box, not on the pinwheel.
I’ve had this wheel going all night. I figure if I could hook up some kind of generator, I’ve got unlimited energy right?
—————————————————-
###u/ UniversalSkeptic - 26 minutes ago
That’s awesome man! Have you tried using it on anything other than a pinwheel? I want to go try it on the fan in my room.
EDIT: Don’t do that. It ripped the posters off my wall.
###........ u/ MagicalBoi2019 - 22 minutes ago
........ Ha! Awesome idea!
........ EDIT: Doh!!
###u/ ConspiracyTheorist - 16 minutes ago
Careful man, the government will not like the idea of free unlimited energy. They’re gonna shut that shit down. They’re probably in their way to your house right now
###........u/ HappyHenrietta - 15 minutes ago
.........They’re probably in your driveway
###...............u/ JealousGeorge - 15 minutes ago
...............They’re probably in your living room
###......................u/ DumbName1987 - 12 minutes ago
.......................They’re probably in your bedroom
###........u/ MagickalBoi2019 - 15 minutes ago
........What are they gonna go? Arrest me for making my life easier?
###...............u/ ConspiracyTheorist - 10 minutes ago
...............Yes. You’ve single handedly ruined a multi billion dollar industry affecting countless countries.
###......................u/ TreeHugger16 - 5 minutes ago
......................And saved our planet!!!!
###..............................u/ RandomDude - 3 minutes ago
............................... r/Beetlejuicing
(EDIT: Lots of formatting changes.) | Right. You have to do it with four right turns exactly the *right* way, otherwise it doesn't work. You've got to do it *right* as you're reading this post. Like, right away. Right now.
"It's a derivation of the Household Dishwater Sequence first developed a week and a half ago," Malcom said, scanning the thousands upon thousands of replies on the post for the third time. "If we match the user replies to their real-life identities, which we can do for about 85% of the posters, we find something very interesting indeed."
"Right," Jonas interjected. The young man was brimming with excitement. He alone had discovered forty two unique spell derivations. "...Look at the groupings of positive responses, specifically those who succeeded after reading the instructions." He jabbed a finger at the hologram readout which showed demographic trends on the post. "House wives. Home bodies. House husbands. They're all at home browsing reddit, see a title that outlines an improved dish-washing automation sequence, they follow the instructions, and bam! They achieve it."
"Hold on a second," a disembodied voice said from one of the room's wall-mounted screens. "Frank Bragander, CIA. We're just getting looped in." The power brokers in the room swiveled in unison to face the man, who gave the impression that the scowl he wore was permanent. "What was the title of the post?," he asked, nonplussed by the clearance levels of the individuals arrayed around the table.
Malcom's eyes darted upwards in betrayal of his exasperation, though he managed to avoid a full eye-roll." It's a simple title. 'Forget about your dishes taking up space in the kitchen. Try this instead.'," he said, turning to face the rest of the table. "It's the top post right now, has been for over two hours. It needs to come down."
"We're working on it, sir," replied Jonas. "It doesn't violate the site's TOS."
"Get it done. We can't afford to have it up for much longer."
"Is it really that bad?" Frank said, frowning as he read through the instructions. "It just looks like a variation on the auto-"
"...mated dishwasher sequence." Malcom said, running a hand through his thinning hair with a jerky, erratic movement. "But it isn't. It imbues the casters with a fucking *philosophy!*"
"What?" Frank was still frowning.
"They stop seeing the purpose in all of their random household items - in the espresso maker and slow cooker and microwave." Malcom looked around the table, unable to catch anyone's eyes. "The sequence takes out any materialistic tendencies in humans. Everyone who follows the instructions stops caring about status and wealth - they completely drop the fucking fundamental drivers behind our economy." The President slammed his palms down onto the mahogany table. "Society is going to collapse. It's the end of life as we know it."
Laughter burst from the TV screen. Frank had a wide grin plastered across his face. "Two weeks ago magic came into the world - literally nothing else matters." As if to prove his point, the Director of the CIA snapped his fingers and appeared right in the middle of the table, causing the meeting room's occupants to jerk backwards in shock.
"Our society was created by the past. It was created for a completely different reality where magic didn't exist and the unexplained was ultimately explainable," the Director said over the indignant muttering. He turned to face the post's hologram projection, then began to recite the sequence. | 2019-07-11T13:04:38 | 2019-07-11T11:46:51 | 125 | 50 |
[WP] Magic suddenly becomes a thing. While governments are scrambling to establish regulations, people defiantly flock to reddit to share new discoveries and crack more “overpowered” spells. Write about a trending post that, for good or ill, is making authorities furious. | Enviousdeath: 13 points - 4 hours ago
Guys three swipes. Trust me ;)
FuckTheGvt 6542 points 3 hours ago
Tried it, they were screaming furious!
Edmon5 2 points - 2.5 hours ago
Username checks out ;)
PartialMadness 336 points - 2 hours ago
So, for those of you late to this thread. We have discovered the combination required to balance corruption. Use this spell on anyone, and it appears anything they have done in their past if of a corrupt nature, will revisit on them immediately.
Originally it was thought to be a forbidden spell as it killed that prick Tordingworth - until the investigation found identical circumstances to the girl he was accused of raping and murdering. It was only when others came forward having tried it on random targets that it’s true nature became obvious.
It isn’t a killing spell, it won’t do anything on a non corrupt person.. but the effect of a corrupt bastard will plague them if you cast it.
Envious is right up above. Three swipes seem to provide the optimum feedback.
Now is really time we clear out the swamp. | I love gullible people on Reddit! Recently, I saw this post:
​
*Redditors, help! My son just cast ‘The Spell of Understanding!’ and I am shocked by what I’ve learnt!*
*I thought he was excited about construction and that he was going to be an architect. I heard him shout ‘Khalifa’ in his room so many times I lost the count. Today I learnt that it’s not the Burj Khalifa he’s excited about! He used to tell me that brandy is Love. I thought that it was him tricking me to think he drinks secretly. He doesn't, I know. Well, it has nothing to do with drinking, he spells it with ‘i’! I've also learnt that my son is not a fan of Rachel from Friends, is the other Aniston he likes. He told me that he looks up to Reid. Harry Reid, I thought. He was Senate Majority Leader and helped make Obamacare the law of the land. He can’t be bad, right? I mean, not if you're a Democrat. Well, that’s not the Reid he looks up to! Oh, my God! And lastly, he told me his famous male actor was James Dean. I did not know that’s not how he spelled his last name! And then, there is a black leather couch he bought for his bedroom. It’s- It’s not something I can write about.*
*The worst of all, my mother (she is 83), a devout Christian, is also under the influence of the spell. She is mad at Bobby now and is banging on his door right now and threatening to call the authorities!*
*Redditors, I need your help. Do you know how to undo ‘The Spell of Understanding’?*
*Please help!*
*P.S.*
/u/trololololo\_theAbsoluteHumanToiletTrash\_xoxo *sent me a private message saying I need to post the spell text for you to be able to help me. I found the spell text in Bobby's bedroom. The text is below.*
​
Apparently, later in the day the FBI raided her house and her post was removed from Reddit, because of the spell text (which I won't copy-paste here).
​
EDIT:
I was wrong. The house was raided by local police. Attempted marauder. Maybe it has something to do with her other post:
​
*Oh, no, the spell works both ways. Bobby knows that Richard is not his father.* | 2019-07-11T13:59:56 | 2019-07-11T13:02:47 | 114 | 27 |
[WP] A strange meteor shower lasted for hours before you went to bed. The next day, technology across the earth fails. However, when you snap your fingers in frustration, the lights come on. The Age of Magic has begun. | In fairness, we should have seen it coming. When we looked up to the heavens and saw the unscheduled meteor shower we all Ooh’d and Aah’d, taking pictures on our phones and thinking little of it. The loss of signal was easy to explain away, and the loss of WiFi was irritating, but we all slept regardless.
We should have put two and two together in the days that followed, realising that the stars that fell were our own! Every single man made object was simultaneously dragged from orbit. The world suddenly became as small as it had ever been until we awakened to our newfound abilities.
You weren’t the first, snapping your fingers at a dead lightbulb to find that the glass, not the filament, began to glow faintly. People slowly realised that the technology we’d relied on so heavily for centuries was now relying on us for power.
Some forms of renewable energy still functioned, but engineers and scientists scratched their heads at the outcome. The very laws that governed reality seemed to have changed in new, entirely unexplainable ways!
Somehow, every before functional arcane bulbs or mystic travel solutions, some college warlocks managed to pool enough energy to revive the internet, now fuelled by the ambient energy caused by the learning of magic. MIT was quickly renamed the Magical Institute of Technomancy as more and more fresh, young minds found strange fixes for the losses of the age of technology.
Obviously, crystals were bought up so quickly that the prices sky rocketed. Of course the players of D&D and every other fantasy game would guess what was happening first. The discovery that the magical powers could, indeed, be stored for varying periods of time inside a crystalline lattice was what allowed mankind to begin to pick themselves up again.
Airplanes were forgotten, preferring the Arcane Gates that gave airports a new purpose. Old ways long thought to be myth and legend has been revived, following old books of lore and legacy passed down from the previous ages of magic.
People called it that now! Magic! It wasn’t openly accepted just as technology took so long to be interpreted into our lives, but the more open minded (and frankly desperate) masses accepted it a lot better than many expected.
New world powers rose and fell as even the land beneath our feet began to change, breathing new life into the Wilds and bringing with them long lost creatures and some that we’d rather have forgotten.
The old glass and metal tablets of old still speak of a time without magic, and prophecy that a time will come again when the wonders of magic will wane and the mundane will overtake the arcane once more, but most do not worry themselves with these doomsday sayings. It is now the second age of arcanum, and there are dungeons to be explored, and dragons to be discovered. What a time to be alive! | I look down a hill, watching Avalon rise up in the distance. Avalon used to have a different name, not too long ago. New York. The name changed together with the rest of the world.
My comrades nod at me. They used to be my classmates. Then the lights went, then the heat, then the teachers, then the families. We banded together. Formed a party.
The younger a person was, the greater their potential for magic. But with all other energy sources gone, they became batteries. People were reduced to selling their children for food. We got out as the war for Avalon raged.
But now, Avalon is covered by a deathly stillness. Its mighty towers have tumbled into the sea. All the death and destruction is over. But something lurks within. When the doors to magic opened, it wasn't just the good stuff that came through.
I whistle, summoning my familiar. Archie, my handsome pegasus, jet-black and arrogant, flies up to me. Time to ride.
We're all part of a larger force, descending on Avalon as one being. We plan to make this city, symbol of the old world, the beginning of a new one. Humanity will rise again, as the leader of this new, stranger, world.
I snap my fingers and a portal opens in front of us. We rush through it, cautious but hurried. I blink in the new light. We're in Madison Square Garden. I came here once for a concert. I can barely remember those days now.
The seats are all covered in plants and wildlife. A centaur rushes past. One of my guys starts for it, but I wave my hand, and invisible chains hold him back. We have bigger fish to fry. In the center of the stage, sits a wild man with a flute. He sits in a throne of flowers and vines. I know instantly that he's a God.
Not just any God. A powerful one. A creature of nature. He plays a strange, lilting sound on his flute. The plants around him go crazy. They're dancing. There's a mystical beauty to it. I almost regret what I have to do.
And then a loud, keening scream resounds through Avalon. The invasion has begun. The God turns to look at us. It's almost like he sees right through us. His flute turns into pipes. A weapon of war, of course.
We charge at him, as he looks at us mockingly. He blows a sound of utmost cruelty in our direction. A song of Panic. I feel my feet start to quake. Archie bolts. One of our more trustworthy mages begins a counterspell. No time. I have to act before we flee.
The invisible chains again. I grab the pipes and try to pull them away, but my strength is nothing compared to a God. But in that moment of distraction, another mage comes from behind and sets his throne alight, courtesy of a perfectly-timed fireball.
He stands up, screams a word in the Old Tongue, stamps his foot, and vanishes. The feeling of terror fades. Three of the more talented mages and me whisper together for a moment. Soon we've come up with a spell to burn plant life, but not the building.
We don't waste time. Soon the stadium is ablaze with merry flames. We walk through the fore heedlessly. It feels somewhat warm, really. Like walking through steam. I shoot blinding red sparks into the air. The mage on my right shoots up white. The mage on my left sends up glittering blue sparks.
Madison Square Garden is secure. For now. But the invasion is far from over. And the God could return at any moment. I take a moment to appreciate what I'm seeing, as the hazy memory of magical plant life mixes with the brick and mortar of a time gone by, nearly ancient history. Soon this will be a place for jousting and magical tournaments. People will come dressed in finery of all the colors of the rainbow. Avalon will be a seat of magic for the rest of the world to stand on. It will be glorious.
But that's tomorrow. Today there's a war to fight. I turn back to the fight and give it my all. | 2019-10-20T10:44:57 | 2019-10-20T09:09:51 | 182 | 76 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Humans have a saying, "War never changes".
This may be true for humans as they have either imagined or practiced seemingly every single conceivable every style of war.
For the rest of the galaxy at large, "War changed".
When the scourge came, 100's of millions of sentient beings died before anyone truly knew what was happening. A race of vicious and voracious bio-mechanoids, they were seemingly unstoppable. Massive Trigarii homes died from 10's of thousands of needle pricks (albeit needles of superheated plasma and kinetic projectiles releasing mega-joules of energy). Zhura Nests sent billions of drones which could slow down, but never truly stop the scourge legions. Counter measures took months to develop, and never seemed to work for longer than a few days before a completely new death machine arrived which negated any chance.
68 species joined together creating an alliance, sending legions of soldiers, armada's of ships, untold billions of tons of equipment, but all this succeeded in doing is slow down the scourge, with a few local successes, normally extremely Pyrrhic victories, but victories nonetheless.
\---
Scouts were sent out, looking for resources, other races, even an ark to hide and hope that the scourge might pass by.
Faint radio signals allowed a small flotilla to find earth, they found another race capable of waging war, they found a race that, maybe, just maybe, personified hope.
The first legions raised by humanity cut a swathe through the scourge the alliance never expected, the quarter million humans did more in 3 months than 5 million zhuran drones and princes could have done in a year. They also provided unheard of innovations, on scales that would affect a fireteam all the way up to army corps, seemingly instantaneously.
The scourge used acid throwers, humans initially cut pieces of armour steel into shields until field shops produced acid resistant polymers. The scourge spawned infiltration forms which could cause massive damage in short periods, humans dug spiked pits and placed things called mines in vast fields. The scourge burrowed and created emergence holes behind the lines, that did not work out for them, human sensors detected the burrowing almost immediately and calculated exact locations of where they would be emerge, flamethrowers horrified even allied beings.
The unique things about humans is that they fight harder the worse things get. An entire human army corp was destroyed protecting a city full of non-combatants, 150,000 soldiers died protecting a city of 20 million, through their sacrifice almost 4 million people were evacuated. The War Chiefs viewed it as a waste, those soldiers being worth more than twice the number of civilians. However they found another piece of war humans had mastered, propaganda, petabytes of images and videos were made of the heroic sacrifices, the information was sent back to earth and distributed.
\---
As expected by the governments of earth, total uproar, the legions sent out were multinational, so it gave everyone a vested hatred of the scourge. Mining facilities scattered throughout the asteroid belt, helium 3 refineries were placed in the orbit of Jupiter, residential areas tunneled out of water heavy moons, within a decade almost 5 million people lived outside of earths atmosphere. 5 years after that, the first warships began to leave the shipyards scattered around the solar system, however, one of the most important ships to ever be created had already left the shipyards, with many hundreds of sister ships either having left the yards or in construction. Her name is EMS Rocinante, Mass Conveyance Transporter InterStellar (MaCTIS), a dedicated transport ship with last generation FTL drives to ease manufacture and maintenance, cargo hooks to allow the core ship to effectively dump cargo containers and pick up new ones on the fly, only needing a skeleton crew of 23 (preferably 50).
Prior to the Rocinante, transport was only ever completed by warships or trigarii homes, meaning close on 2 thirds of the entire alliances space fleet had to be used for transport, not knowing anything different they could not concieve of anything different. MaCTIS's and their concurrent cargo pods quickly became the most produced items made, 180,000 ships and 15 million pods were made over 2 years. This new merchant marine allowed massive fleets to reinforce the front line, as well as providing ground troops a seemingly unlimited amount of supplies, front line Zhuran troops were able to have semi fresh grubs provided for meals for the first time in literally generations.
The ability to move armies and fleets throughout the spiral arm and ensure that they had plenty of supplies allowed the alliance to finally stabilise the frontlines, and in some very small areas the ability to push the scourge back. The alliance chiefs were all amazed at the huge change of fortunes humans had been able to complete in a mere 40 terran years.
\---
The alliance took a fleet to earth, to thank them for helping and ask them to join the alliance, on arrival, a sight that held no resemblance to the initial sensor readings greeted them.
Fleets were conducting wargames, every single planet was being used for either training, production, mining or breeding. Earth itself had been industrialised to a level that even the Ralik Forger worlds could not concieve.
Humanity changed war for the alliance yet again, Total war, no surrender, no quarter, everybody fights, no one quits. | The Tethron shivered in his hole. The mud was usually so comforting to him, but now it made him almost claustrophobic. Foreboding. The paradise of the colony world sundered into choking vapor and bitterly cold nights.
"Klang? Why are you coiled against the viewport like that? Come to the food station and get warmed up." His wife called to him. She was always trying to make the best of any situation. She didn't seem to comprehend that they were going to die forsaken by their very ground. The underlords weren't coming g to save them this time.
////
John Sherman stood looking out over the world below, watching the raythogenic cloud swirling below, blocking the sunlight.
"Damn worms. Teach those bastards that they don't get what's ours."
"How long until their world is frozen, sir?"
"Research pegs it at between 3 days and 7 days. By how cold the scans are getting, the mid-rank pool has it at two and a half."
"I dunno. I have in the pool at six days. Research isn't usually that conservative."
Captain Sherman laughed, "You Martians are all the same. Calculate everything, do what's prudent. It's like your colonials were going to starve or run out of air or something." He jabbed.
"Or maybe you freaks from the 'belt just hit your heads too often careening around with jetpacks and fish bowls." Retorted Commander Kaplan jovially.
////
Klang woke with a start, rolling softly next to his mate. He settled himself so as to not disturb her. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't put his mind on it.
He heard a soft murmur. Rotating his head, he focused on his mate and heard it clearly, "K-k-kang-g-g. K-k-ka..."
He immediately slithered around on top of Kilespa. "Mate! What's wrong?" He exclaimed, his body trying to react and force him away from the ice cold emanations from his mate. He furiously rubbed himself across her, trying to heat her up.
"S-s-stop. I-i am-m alr-red-dy dead. I l-l....l-lov-ve...."
Kang stroked furiously against his mate. "Wake up! Wake up!"
He slowly grew tired, his hearts gushing blood past his cochlea. This couldn't be happening. He retreated from his mate's corpse and started shivering. Everything was cold. They had ran out of heating fuel yesterday morning. He thought they could get some more in the noon time, but there was no more. The refinery had failed from the cold and spilled it across the country-side. Everyone was without heat.
He slithered through the entryway. He wanted to hasten the inevitable. What he found was horror. Everyone he knew was frozen in spasms, everywhere outside. He couldn't turn any direction without touching his friends, neighbors, brothers.
Then he saw it. A strange light that beckoned warmth. He slithered towards it instinctively, the frozen ground almost burning him. Emanating cold like he had never felt. The light, yellow and promising warmth, beckoning him onwards. The yellow light was all he could see. He had to make it. Kilespa's memory couldn't end here.
The light dimmed. Shadows? Klang couldn't make it out, but he was sure he heard some sort of repetitious guttural barking.
////
"Wow. Look at this. It took 36 hours." an amazed sergeant muttered as he continued scanning, "I'm never going to see that twenty bucks again."
"Amazing, isn't it?" mused Lt Dran, "An escort frigate can wipe out a colony and move on. We've got these bastards, now."
"El Tee!" Shouted a private, raising his rifle, "Three o'clock!"
The entire squad turned and readied their weapons. A slow worm was shuffling towards them.
"Well, well. One survived. Looks like the wretch won't survive long." Said Sergeant Kirkpatrick. "Should we bag it for Research?"
"I don't have the freezer space for that much pork, boys. Take him out." Replied Lt Dran.
His soldiers laughed and then turned back and shot through the central nerve cluster.
"Oh, geez. It's all over my pants!" Whined one of the privates.
////
The Seated of the Lowest Chamber stared into the monitors. Those humans had wiped ground after ground off the face of the galactic map. No one had managed even once before to conquer their worlds. The humans had blundered, adapted, and then moved with terrifying efficiency and cruelty.
Worse, there was no indication of how they were killing any of these worlds. A light space vehicle - with less than 250 of these tiny creatures on board - would approach and then leave two days later. All rescue ships had been too slow. They would arrive to corpses rotting in the sun. Rarely signs of weapons, all of the dead looked like they had died in terror.
Her scientists had no idea how this happened.
A beacon rang. Human capital ships had entered orbit of the home plant and demanded an audience.
////
"What is it you wish to talk about, sc- uh, humans?" The Seated asked, checking her tone.
Admiral Davis stared into the holographic projection. "One hundred eighty days ago, you pledged to wipe us out of existence, Seated."
The Admirals pointed pause burrowed into the Seated's brain. "Yes, I did. But, now I think that you have proven we are no threat to you. On the contrary, we are hardly Any concern for a species such as yours."
The Admiral scoffed. "You made a threat to our existence, Seated. I can't see past that." Davis pressed a button and a host of holographic heads propped up behind him.
"Esteemed members of the Federation of Sentient Species, I present the Tethron's last home: Wurmin. They refused to leave us be, and threatened us with genocide. We do not take talk lightly. Heed, then, my words. The Tethron thought themselves gods among the stars. We have instead laid bare their sins against the heavens and brought doom upon all their worlds."
The Federation chattered amongst themselves as the Seated retracted nervously from the view screen.
"See, now, the desolation we can deliver. We mean you no harm until you mean us harm. Commander, eliminate the threat."
A bright energy pulse blasted from the flag ship and dissipated into the planet Wurmin's atmosphere.
"This will be broadcast live for three days." Admiral Davis stood up and exited the bridge to his office. | 2019-11-24T23:41:46 | 2019-11-24T23:22:53 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] When his daughter was born the oracle told the evil ruler that his grandson would one day kill him. But instead of trying to prevent the prophecy the ruler decides to be the best parent and grandparent, giving his grandson no motivation to fulfill the prophecy. | The seer's last words were the curse he spat at Lord Oberon, "Your first grandson shall be your last and he will be your death."
Lord Oberon was known by many names in the lands he had conquered; The merciless, the black scourge, the bloody lord. But to his face he was always called "your majesty". They didn't understand why he did it, that he did what he did to keep his daughter safe. He wouldn't loose her to his enemies as he lost his wife.
His grandson would grow up safe and loved.
In time his daughter's marriage to a lesser lord secured a peace and alliance that brought Lord Oberon's security and the safety of his family. When Prince Ezra was born, the Bloody Lord turned all his attention to keeping him safe. There was nothing he loved more than spending time with his grandson.
The curse was all but forgotten.
As the boy grew up, Lord Oberon taught him all about statecraft, explaining why he had to do the things he did. And the value in letting his enemies fear hm. Prince Ezra ate it up as any adoring grandchild does at the knee of a doting grandfather.
When Prince Ezra grew to the age where most young men found their own way in the world he begged his grandfather to let him serve in the Royal Legions. Lord Oberon refused at first, but Prince Ezra wore him down, arguing that he couldn't expect the men to follow his command if he'd never worn the armor of the legion.
Lord Oberon trained the boy himself. He was as fine a soldier with sword and spear as any who had served the legion for five years or more. This took near a year.
A benefit of the time the training took was to give the generals time to move men around. When Prince Ezra joined the new Sixth Legion it was made of only grizzled veterans who had proved their mettle in battle.
Even with that the Sixth Legion was assigned to protect the capital, what Lord Oberon considered to be the safest assignment of any legion. Lord Ezra wouldn't even have to lift a sword.
But he would have fit in with those veterans.
The rebels caught him at a house of ill repute. Those who had brought him to such a place loyally gave their lives trying to open the way for the Prince's escape, but their deaths did not save the prince.
The Bloody Lord's inquisitors were thorough, none of the veterans had betrayed him, except by failing to have more varied tastes in women.
A dozen of Lord Oberon's best soldiers stood should to shoulder with him. Across the bridge a similar number of rebels stood along side Prince Ezra. At the signal the Bloody Lord and his grandson walked toward each other.
The two men faced each other in the center of the bridge. Tears ran down Prince Ezra's dirty face. "I'm sorry grandpa..."
"It's not your fault, son. Trust your father, he knows what to do, but remember he doesn't rule, you do." Lord Oberon took the royal crown from his brow and handed it to his grandson. He desperately wanted to hug the boy, but that would get them both killed.
He grabbed the boys shoulder and squeezed. It was all he could do.
Then he walked unarmed to the rebels and his death as his grandson walked to the Royal Legion, the crown heavy in his hand. | It's amazing how something so small could change a person so set in their ways. Marquis Vale hated these cliches, but looking at and holding his daughter, he couldnt help the strings of his heart being tugged. Everyone around him drifted away as he contemplated how he would raise his newborn flesh and blood. How he give her any and everything she wanted. His resolve to maintain his control and power and climb ranks and nobility never faltered. Despite these new changes to his life, he will persevere. Just playing the long games, even smarter than before.
He was snapped back to reality when his Oracle approached from behind, and whispered, "You see yourself a king, a god, as you climb to divinity. But even they heed the tellings of dire futures: The sun of your flower will bring forth your final warm day."
Vale trusted this Oracle, more than his own wife, Addison. He understood the warnings that some kings and gods didnt pay attention to got them killed. "Sun of my flower"? He disliked flowers. While nice to look at, he was sensitive to the aromas.
The nurse reentered the room, beelining to his wife, and with that he also stepped closer, baby girl in hand. He offered the newborn back as even he knew his time was up and his wife wanted her baby back. The nurse spoke up, "Have you two thought of a name?"
Vale chuckled, "You and I made a terrible bet, but you gave birth to a daughter, so you choose."
Addison smiled, pondered, and softly said, "Lily."
Everything clicked immediately.
===
"George! What on Earth are you doing?" yelled a frazzled Lily. "You taught him that, didn't you?" Swiveling her head toward her father, who sat with smug grin.
"He's fifteen and actually intelligent. Would you rather he play with explosives in an uncontrolled environment behind your back?" Vale questioned a little too methodically, as if preparing to say this.
Lily rubbed her temples. "You raise me, blatantly showcasing how you operate, letting me make decisions our your behalf when the time came. I told you that I didn't want George to be forced into this."
"Did you feel forced?"
"...no..."
"Why did you choose my same path? What if he wants to do the same? He is perfectly aware of his other options. If he wants to disconnect from the Vale name, he can, both of us have explicitly said so. But right now, he is having fun as a hormonal teenager."
George had one eye on the substandard explosives trying to get the best reaction out of the materials he had, but also staying aware of his mother and grandfather. Thinking to himself, it's almost like alchemy: add a little, make a few modifications, get more. Why couldn't he do that with his life. He wanted to work by his mother's and grandfather's sides, to get them up to speed with this changing world and to show them how effective and efficient they could truly be.
When he discovered his grandfather was sick, things took a turn. Even George admits to himself his thoughts turned dark, but he worked through them. That Oracle and her protege were certainly just as good therapists as they are seers. Ancient alchemical philosophy insinuates everything can be connected. So when the protege told George, "the sun will rise and burn ever more brightly," the Oracle followed up with, "that is your answer to the question you ask yourself in the cold of night."
For the next month, those words rang in George's head, only to be interrupted by the coughing fits of his grandfather. This evening was particularly poor; blood stained his handkerchief. Surely, The Duke Vale wouldn't do to continue suffering like this?
Autumn was in full swing, and it heralded a harsh winter, one that Vale might not fare well. George found his grandfather reading in his study. They greeted each other with warm smile and George picked out a book to read as well.
"What it is it, George?"
"Hmm, I thought I was being slick."
"To anyone else, yes, but...to me? Really? Now, what's on your mind?"
George turned to his grandfather, with a genuine smile and stated, "I was thinking of taking up the name of Sol. What do you think?"
The old Vale, didnt miss a beat in responding, "Took you a month to come up with that to test the waters with me. Your mother raised you almost by herself, and told me that I'm only allowed to spoil you so much. Next time don't hesitate. With that, your next trial, I daresay, will probably be your worst."
The old man flipped open his nightstand to reveal a suppressed handgun.
He opened his arms, inviting his grandson to a hug. "I love you, George Sol. You watch after for your mother. Surpass me to divinity." | 2020-02-03T20:28:23 | 2020-02-03T19:01:55 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has happened, and you don’t know what scares you more; the hordes of the undead that wanders the streets, or that one zombie that seems to be stalking you specifically. | "It's not us it wants, it's *her*!" Clyde pointed vehemently at me. "I say we throw her out there and make a run for it."
"She's saved your ass more than once you ungrateful piece of--!"
The group descended into chaos arguing over one each other about the merits of sacrificing me. Below us the hoard threw their rotting bodies against the doors, the rank smell of them buffered by the window.
It stood in the shade of a tree across the street from the building that we stood on. I could see the slight crane of its neck. It knew instinctively where I was. Always.
It was near the beginning when a fresh biter got my neck. I got away, and was ready to end it before the fever took me over. I woke up two days later, still alive. I'm not sure why I never turned. It wasn't long after that I found out the zombies actually hated the smell of my blood. They cowered away from it. It was how I managed to save most of the people in our group.
Just get Ashe to bleed a little and the zombies will leave. All except one. Every time I turned around on a supply run, it was there watching from the shadows. It took us two months to realize it'd been stalking us, actually *leading* hoards to us. I had nightmares about it's eyes on me, could have sworn I could hear words behind its chittering maw. Calling my name.
But we've lost two people now because of these hoards. I didn't want any more blood on my hands. So I let the group bicker and descended the stairs. | Beads of sweat run down my neck and drip to the ground below, and my knuckles whiten as I grip my pistol by my head. I'm trying to steady my breathing and my body is fighting back; I may be in the best shape of my life, but these creatures are all in the best shape of their unlife. It took all I had to escape the horde that came charging through my little outpost in the forests of my old city, and now I hide... No, **cower** underneath a twisted pile of rust in the shape of a BMW and a Ford.
*What the actual fuck is wrong with that thing?* I whisper in my brain*,* desperately trying to rationalize the fact that I had seen that same zombie, almost 3 times since dawn. It's been 5 years since Patient 0 infected Patient 1. 5 years since our species callously ignored the warnings in lieu of comforting blame. Almost 4 years since the last "Fort" in America fell, and who knows how long since the others. But, in all those years, I have yet to see this. I mean, I've seen thousands of this; shambling bodies of hidden speed and ferocity, melted or carved faces, limbs barely held on or missing entirely... But this is the first time I've locked eyes with one. This is the first time, I've questioned whether or not I've seen this one before.
*Its impossible. Braindead fucking corpses, that's all they are.* I reassure myself as more sweat pools on my chest and the dirt below. My grip loosening ever so slightly, *you're just going nuts. There are thousands of copies, you might've just seen a doppelganger or something, completely possible*. My breathing becomes normalized, the air is still warm from the sun in dusk, and it feels almost nice.
The hordes sprint off not too long after, some squirrel probably caught their attention and took off like... well a squirrel. That or some sound far off in the distance gathered them all together. Either way, now was my time to leave. I shimmy out from the T bone and rust and pat myself off. The sun is almost fully set now, the air is finally cooling off, and it feels nice. I know its plenty dangerous to walk around at night, but I just need to head away from the Horde.
***Crunch***
The unmistakable sound of food meeting dirt drifting in the background, accompanied by the distinctive airy moan of the undead behind me. With a spin I bring out my blade, the Horde is too close to risk firing a shot, and for the fourth time today lock eyes with the undead. A smile, a fucking smile, perched on his dead face. His eyes, wild with excitement. My pistol is out in a flash as he steps towards me, every step gaining speed.
The sun is setting behind me, the horde is close, but this **thing** is closer. It's a now or never moment, and I can't fucking choose. | 2020-09-28T17:16:21 | 2020-09-28T16:15:51 | 43 | 23 |
[WP] “O great demon, I have summoned you here today to–“ “No you didn’t. The young girl bleeding out on the pentagram did.” | The altar was swaddled in black velvet.
The sacrifice's pale skin glowed in the light shed by the crimson candles. Liquid pooled on the floor around her, darkening the pentagram of crushed bone.
The stone floor trembled -- like a young woman stolen at midnight from her home, struck mute by terror.
The wicks' flames flared. The shadows seeped, oily and mute, down the temple walls, collecting at the atlar.
**Malveran the Disemboweler** emerged from the puddle of jet, eyes burning.
From beneath the folds of his dark hood, Lethus intoned, "O great demon, I have summoned you here today to --"
*No.*
"I...what?"
*No, you haven't.*
Despite the tension on his face, Lethus smiled. "Dark Lord of the Crimson Spire, I have *invoked* you --"
*Nope.*
"I, um," the mage shifted uncomfortably. "I have performed the sacred rite which has...invited you to become corporeal on this plane and now, as my thrall --"
Malveran took a step forward and poked Lethus hard in the forehead. There was a brief sizzling noise. *Hey, entrails-for-brains, you did fuck all. The young woman bleeding out on the pentagram here is the one who summoned me.*
Lethus scowled, brown eyes darting to meet the blue eyes of the sacrifice, the lids of which were now nearly shut. Then he looked back at the demon and chuckled. "Good stuff, Malveran. Next you'll be telling me that my only hope for survival is to erase the glyph of protection that keeps you --"
*You can soak your head in a lake of boiling axle grease for all I care. My preference would be that you shut your talk-hole, since I'm having trouble hearing my mistress, but she calls the shots, so...* The entity known in some circles as The Disemboweler shrugged his massive shoulders.
The wizard drew himself up to his full 65 inches of height and extended an arm. "Lethus, of Mount Dusk, *compels* you to do his --"
A verdant flash hit Lethus full in the chest and sent him sprawling to the floor. *Hm? What's that?*
Bringing himself to a stand, Lethus replied, "I said I **compel you** \--"
Malveran flicked his wrist and invisible fingers wrapped around Lethus' jaw and throat. *Not* ***you***\*, you sack of flesh and excrement.\*
The demon leaned closer to the prone figure on the floor. Slowly -- impossibly, Lethus thought -- the sacrifice sat up. The candles guttered. Blood from the cuts on her temples seemed to be trickling *upward*, reversing course back into her body.
*She says thank you.*
Lethus gurgled in response, his jaw still immobilized.
*She's been having a lot of trouble with summoning spells, herself.*
The mage felt tiny legs, as though of insects, begin marching across his skin.
*But mind control, on the other hand, comes easy to her.*
Lethus felt a sudden tightening in his stomach.
"I decided," the young woman said, in a high, raspy voice, "it would be simplest to witness it first hand."
Malveran reached to his belt and removed a long knife, the blade barbed and blackened.
"So, as Malveran said -- thank you. I enjoyed the lesson very much. But I'm afraid that this demon you thought you summoned demands a blood sacrifice..."
Reflected candlelight flickered in a pair of blue eyes as screams echoed off the walls of the temple.
* * *
/r/ShadowsofClouds for other stories of demonic summoning, spells gone wrong, and more. | I left the city when I was six years old. The stars revealed themselves to me for the first time, and I was left breathless. The night sky, which had always been filtered through a haze of neon lights, was blacker than I ever thought possible; I felt pulled towards the vast nothingness, falling upwards into an abyss of unfathomable depth.
This was the same sensation I felt as I laid on the ground, warm streams of blood flowing gently down my wrists. The room was bathed in a flickering red glow, but my stomach lurched as my mind was pulled away towards an unknown direction. The red glow of the room retreated into the distance until it became a small red dot in the void, and the smell of incense grew dull, as if it had infused itself to the linings within my body. A rustling noise seemed to come from the back of my head, growing ever louder, and ever more chaotic and oppressive - as if I were a tiny aphid, and the leaf that I thought was my entire world had just been swept into the sky by a great storm.
Suddenly, a million red dots - each like the room I was in - burst into my vision, forming a river of crimson that stretched across the void like the milky way. As I stared at one of the countless stars, one of them called out to me, and I answered. The Star smiled, and I felt another lurch in my stomach as I fell towards It.
'Hello, child,' the Star said to me, with a smile that stretched into the horizons, 'I have heard your call. What is it that you desire?'
What do I desire? I considered the question as orbs materialised in front of me, each playing a scene from my life. My parents broke up after we moved to countryside, and my mother took me back to the city. I went back to school and had a crush on a boy named Brian, who took me to the cinema for the first time and made me laugh more than anyone else ever had. When I was 14 years old, Brian went on a trip with his parents, but was killed in a freak accident when some sort of machine fell from the sky into their vacation home. It had taken me three years to work my way out of grief; my mother did her best to help me along, but my depression took a toll on her health as well, and she had grown rather thin, with a few locks of premature white hair. After everything that we had been through, I could not stop here.
'To live.' I answered into the void.
'Very well.' the Star replied, and I felt yet another lurch in my stomach as I was whipped around and pulled towards the faint red glow of the room.
The scent of incense returned, and the rustling noise collapsed into the depth of my skull, leaving behind an acute sense of reality. Even from far away, I was able to discern every detail within the room - the small cracks that ran across the dark table, the slight tear at the bottom of a robe, the tiniest irregularities in the blood-red pentagram on the ground. I watched with an icy sense of detachment as the girl lying sprawled out in the centre of the pentagram rose into the air, her neck - my neck - bent at an unnatural angle. The robed figure turned and tried to run, dropping an old book to the ground and tripping over a few candles in his panicked retreat. My body was now floating above the pentagram, her mouth moving, saying something I could not hear. I inhaled deeply as fear emanated from the robed figure, and my senses were jolted awake. I watched every detail of the robed figure's eyes - the dilation of his pupils, the expansion of blood vessels, the slightest trembling of his eyelids - and I reveled in the deliciousness of his horror. He opened his mouth and screamed soundlessly as I delved deep into his soul, ripping memories to shred as I extracted his deepest fears from the memory fragments. The girl above the pentagram was laughing - her mouth stretching upwards towards her temples - and the robed figure was now curled on the ground, his hands clawing desperately at the bloody sockets where his eyes used to be, fingers reaching into the holes, trying in vain to reach the demon within and physically pulling it out of himself.
\---
By the time I came to, I had already been moved to a hospital. My mother, with wrinkles around her eyes and hair that looked whiter than they had been before, was sitting by my bed, a bowl of half-finished oatmeal on the table.
The next few days were a blur. Police officers came and went, asking many questions. From what I gathered, they never managed to identify my kidnapper. By the time they had found me, there was nothing left of the kidnapper but a grotesque pile of remains. He had apparently disemboweled himself, removing organs from himself and ingesting them before finally succumbing to blood loss. The officers were sympathetic and spared me the gory details, of course; but every night, as I gazed outside the hospital window, a red star would call to me through the haze of neon lights, and I would smile, close my eyes, and wait for that familiar lurching feeling in my stomach. | 2021-01-15T10:11:56 | 2021-01-15T10:03:29 | 80 | 37 |
[WP]: Turns out God was a slacker and gave "Free Will" to not have to "plan" anything. He kicked out Lucifer cause he was a control freak. When you die turns out you have a choice, between a chaotic rule free Heaven or a smoothly machine operated Hell. | Saint Peter sat at a table in front of towering pearly gates.
“Well, where will you go?” he said to me.
“Give me a second, I wasn’t ready to choose where I’d spend eternity,” I said.
“Most people don’t hesitate the choice between Heaven or hell,” he said.
“But knowing the newfound information you told me about free will in Heaven makes me wonder.”
“About what?” the angel asked.
I pressed my finger against my lips and thought for a moment. “Let me get this straight, God was completely hands off with His own creation.”
“Practically,” Peter said. “He tried to pass the baton to His Son, but you know how that turned out. Afterwards, God kinda left everything on autopilot mode.”
“When you say everything you mean —“
“The entire universe and the realms of the after life,” he interrupted. “*Everything*.”
“And you still can’t see why I’m hesitating? Billions of people have suffered through life’s harsh screwballs. Malnutrition, cancer, heartbreak, mental illness…instead of losing their shit, people found a sliver of hope that their faith will grant them a better afterlife.”
I took a breath and continued. “Can’t you see why people would be upset to find out that Heaven was more of the same?”
Peter leaned over to the side of his chair and noticed an increasing line of new spirits. He turned his attention back to me and raised an eyebrow.
“Must I remind you that the other choice is literally where pain and sin reside?” he said.
“But is it an orderly place? If Lucifer promises something to his citizens, does he deliver?”
“It’s hell— I imagine the only thing promised is the omnipresence of misery.”
I scratched my head.
“I can’t believe it’s taking you this long to decide,” Peter said.
“Well an empty calendar was my hell on Earth,” I said.
“Then the devil will exploit that knowledge and make your eternity as consistent as a game of roulette,” the angel signed. “Listen, it’s not all that bad behind the gates, but the people who live in Heaven are still figuring out how to be pure. They’re as unpredictable as they were in the flesh, which can lead to hard times. But memories are made when a change occurs. Embellish the good, and try to find a break in the clouds when things get dark.”
He stood from his chair and made eye contact with me.
“Believe it or not, the afterlife isn’t a finish line. You’re still running and always will be. So I’m going to ask you one more time: where will you go?” | Wisps of fog shrouded the floor of the cave as the soft green glow of stalactites radiated through the darkness. Shafts of light emanated from both ends of the cave. On my left was a golden ray that seemed faint now, but would sure to be blinding once I stepped out and, on the right, a warm inviting glow. The entire space was completely silent save the plinking of water droplets as it echoed through the cave. I took a step in the direction of the orange light.
“Traveller, you are finally here,” a deep voice said from behind me. I jumped and turned back. Facing me was a hooded figure whose face I can barely make out to be a skull. His hands clasped a bony staff.
“Choose your path,” he said.
“Path? Am I...” My voice quivered as I asked the only thing on my mind. “Dead?”
“Yes. You are dead. I am your guide to help you choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Your next—how shall I put it—destination. When you die, you get to choose between two possibilities. Between the free world and the restrained world. Between chaos and order.”
“Like Heaven and Hell?” I asked.
“Like what?” He replied, even more confused than I am. Clearly, he had never heard of such a concept.
“I choose free and order, then.”
“There is no free and order. Watch and choose.” He waved his bony staff and a ray of light seemed to shine from a stalactite onto a flat wall in the cave, like a theatre projecting a movie onto a screen. I glanced around to find the source of the light, curious about the whole mechanism behind this.
“Hey, hey, pay attention.” He snapped his fingers to bring my focus back to the moving imagery. “This world is a world of complete freedom. A society without rules and restrictions. No governance. Those who demand any semblance of authority are sent away. The ruler of this land embraces the philosophy of total freedom.” He explained. This should be the ideal world, then, I thought.
But it was pandemonium. People were running all about. All types of crimes were ongoing. They were looting stores, hijacking cars. Groups of people wearing shirts of the same colour were clashing with another group of a different colour.
“I think you’re showing me the wrong one. You meant to show me the one about freedom?” I said.
“This is the correct one,” the hooded figure said. “Ah, I see the misunderstanding. Let me word it better. The ruler of this land believes in total freedom from doing anything. Endless free time for himself. Having to establish rules and governance would be directly contradictory to his philosophy, you see. So, this is the result. No rules. No one to tell them who is right. No one is wrong when no one is right at all.” He waved his staff and the projector screen blackens, then pressed a button on his boned staff furtively and a new video played.
“Is that like a remote control or something? Did you customize your remote so it’s shaped like a staff?” I asked.
"Hush,” He said insecurely. “The second world is the world of rules and regulations. Those banished from the world of freedom reside here. Everything is subjected to scrutiny and law.”
The second video showed a world of complete order. The law is dictated by one man only, the Supreme Leader. Every man, woman, and child are subjected to a routine every day. Food, jobs, and welfare are distributed evenly. Hangings and executions were common, and no one stepped out of line.
“I see. It’s just the opposite ends of the political spectrum, isn’t it? Anarchism versus Totalitarianism.” I asked.
“The what? Look, stop making references alright? I’m unfamiliar with them.” He said, now annoyed.
“Never mind. Can I choose something in between? Both sound awful.”
“That’s the one you just came from. No repeats.”
“So, they’re all bad?”
“None of them is perfect, but you just have to choose the best,” he said sagely.
“Can I just die?” | 2021-02-17T19:28:26 | 2021-02-17T18:59:51 | 415 | 104 |
[WP] You’ve always had good sight in the dark, you’ve been called a freak for it. When you die and see the light in the tunnel, you are the first person to notice a door to your side instead. | The walls of the tunnel were cold, slick stones. They stretched in front of me for what seemed a thousand miles toward a pinprick of light far in the distance. The floor of the tunnel was the same unforgiving stone. My feet were bare and ached on the hard stone as I made my way on the long journey towards this strange light.
I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten in the tunnel, but like a moth amongst the flame, I was pulled towards the light. It had grown slowly, a thousand steps by a thousand steps, it had grown. And now it was not a pin prick but had grown to the size of a bumble-bee just at arms reach.
The larger the light grew, the more that mysterious passion to walk towards it flamed within me. My pace increased, the sore feet ignored, as I moved faster and faster on the hard stones.
But soon I ran into something unanticipated. Something very strange and hardly noticeable in the dark gloom of the tunnel. A small door, barely big enough for me to fit in, was carved amongst the stone. There was only a slight outline of the door and it would have been easy to skip, as it was almost impossible to see, if it wasn’t for the good sight I’ve always had in the dark. A peculiar skill that has brought with it the label of freak and nightcrawler.
It was always at night that I could see better—the day was always too bright. Too busy. At night, when all was at rest, my vision opened to the world. And it opened now as I stared at this strange, small door.
I had stopped my pace towards the light, and there was part of me that revolted at this intermission in my journey, but the door was equally mystifying to me.
There was no handle on door, but a red handprint—one that you’d see in an ancient cave. I studied the handprint. It seemed as though a hand was placed on the stone, and then a red paint was sprayed over it, possibly sprayed from the mouth as that is what the splatter marks seemed to suggest.
Strangely, the hand looked familiar. I didn’t know how a handprint could look familiar, but this one did. I put my hand up to it and my hand fit perfectly in the stenciled outline of the red spray. When my hand touched the stone, I felt a vibration within the rock. A grating rumble as the door moved back, as though it was on springs and disappeared.
I looked down into this smaller tunnel that the door had created as it retreated into the deep bowels of the rock. This smaller hole was much darker than the tunnel I was in and pressed an ominous worry within my mind.
I turned and looked at the light, so far away still, but burning in the distance like a paradisaical sun. Part of me wanted to run to it in wild abandon. But another part of me, the stronger part, the curious part, wanted to crawl down and see what this door—this door with a handprint that exactly fit mine—led to.
And so, getting on all fours, I crawled into the darkness where my night vision was of no help, as there was not even a small trace of light to lead my way. | It all happened so fast. One moment, I was driving, the next moment, I was flying in a dark tunnel with a light at the end that kept expanding.
*This means I died, right? Everyone who has ever died or come close, talks about a light at the end of a tunnel? Oh damn, this is really the end? *
I wanted to cry, but I didn't have the time, nor did I feel an aching sadness like I thought I would.
From my periphery, before I was enveloped by the light, there was a door to my right, glowing blue.
Let's try going there! I'm not ready to die and perhaps I can escape death!
The sapphire light swallowed me whole, blinding my eyes for a moment. Then I realized I was falling instead of flying upward.
*Oh no! I've made a horrible mistake! Did I accidentally go down through the doorway to hell? *
As I plummeted, there was nothing but cerulean fog down below. But it started lifting, and I passed through it like a plane through a cloud. But I became terribly afraid when I saw nothing but the ocean. I thought I was going to sink into the water like a stone. But an island with a few palm trees and a patch of grass at the center came into view.
There was smoke coming from the middle of the island, but it smelled like grilled hamburgers, which sounded amazing after all the stress I was going through.
I closed my eyes, bracing myself for a bone-shattering impact, but I gracefully landed on the grass like a butterfly. The coolness of the grass blades were relieving on my feet.
"Hey, Owen! What's going on, big guy?" a familiar voice said to me.
I opened my eyes and saw my father, wearing sunglasses and an orange Hawaiian shirt. He had a full head of hair which I had never seen before, standing beside a grill, cooking up a meal like he always did during the summer time.
Goosebumps appeared all over my skin, even though it appeared translucent. "Ah!" I shrieked, moving my hand through my other hand. It was like I didn't exist.
"Well, you don't exist anymore, sorry to break it to you, Owen. But we all have translucent skin over here." My dad said, flipping over a hamburger. "You know, you always had some freaky sight. A real eagle eye. You were always so observant, well, except for spotting that semi-truck that ended your life."
"I died in a car crash?"
"Uh, 'fraid so, big guy. That was a crafty move though going through the other door. You unlocked a secret world. A little bit of a 'waiting room' before the real afterlife begins. You know what I mean?"
"No. Not really."
"Well, good thing I'm grilling up some burgers for us. We can chat and chow. But first, before our meal is served, why don't you come over here and gimme a hug. I've missed you dearly."
Again, I wanted to cry. My father was a good and fair man. I always respected him. He worked hard to provide for the family, but he was emotionally distant. He never prompted a hug.
I ran up to him and we wrapped our arms around each other.
"Dad, I can't believe it's really you. You were never much of a hugger."
"I know," he said. "And living in this afterlife, I think things over, and I realize how much I regret certain things I did. I never told you or your siblings enough how proud I was of all of you and how much I loved all of you."
I was choked up, but I couldn't cry. I didn't feel sad, but I did feel redeemed. "That means a lot."
He gave me a plate with a burger on it. "Look, Owen. We've got plenty of time to catch up, and do things right. This world we're in now is a place to make up for the times you wished you had. Not everyone gets to experience this, but we can. Remember how I told you I always wanted to take you to the ball game but I was always too busy with work?"
I nodded.
"Well, we can go to the ball game now." My dad stepped aside where a portal appeared. Inside, I could hear a vendor yelling 'peanuts!' and cheers as a bat smacked a baseball deep into right field. The smell of cinnamon roasted almonds greeted my nose.
"After we finish this burger, let's watch our Tigers huh?"
"Of course, Dad."
r/randallcooper | 2021-06-04T14:40:17 | 2021-06-04T12:27:34 | 320 | 97 |
[WP] After three grueling days of climbing, you finally reach the mountain's peak only to find a cabin, whose owner is an old man sitting on the porch. He asks calmly: "Are you here for a fight? Or would you like some tea?" | Hazel leaned her weight onto her walking stick, a thick chestnut slab worn from generations of use. Wiping days of sweat from her brow, she looked back out towards the horizon. The sun was just starting to rise.With a sigh, she turned her head in the opposite direction. To her destination.
The cabin was not how she’d imagined it to be. In the stories they told her, it was a castle with long twisting towers. It was a momentous structure made of hard, impenetrable stone.
In reality, the cabin was just a cabin. Four walls of decaying wood contained its small quarters.Her eyes met those of a man sat on a rocking chair in front of the cabin’s entrance.
“Are you here for a fight? Or would you like some tea?” The man asked, a gentle expression painting his war torn face.
Hazel closed her eyes. The moment she started up the mountain, she knew this would be the end result. Yet she still found her preparation lacking. Her composure deteriorating. Part of her yearned to take this man’s hand and accept his kind offer of tea. It would be far simpler. Far healthier, even.
But no. Years of suffering had finally brought her to this place. To this man. She reached into her walking stick and drew out sharp steel blade. A glint of determination pierced her eyes, as she pointed it towards the neck of the frail man.
The choice was made. | Cordeila had lived in the hut for two hundred and seventeen years and she had a role to fulfill. The hut was built into the side of a cliff face with small wooden beams jutting out of the rocks at odd angles. The house was ram-shackled and cobbled together, with clothes of various colors hanging over the windows and brick and stone mortar propping it up on the side of the cliff. Cordelia was an old woman with dark, tan skin and a hunched back.
Wrapped in blankets and clutching tea, she looked comfortable despite the crooked porch and precarity of the house’s design. Her hair was wrapped in a red and orange cloth and her eyes –two different colors–looked knowingly down the mountainside at the forest below. Someone would arrive today.
In her old age, Cordelia was especially attuned to the cries of the mountain birds and the low whispering of the nearby stream. In the distance, she heard the low rumbling sounds of construction. She was content on her porch, but scanned the trees and brush below for the sign of someone walking. She was guardian and it was her job to know what went on on her side of the mountain.
Finally, she spotted a man. He wore a bright yellow vest and held a clipboard, walking carefully and nodding to the trees around him. Cordelia stood, knocking over a small pile of bones. She would start making a fresh pot of tea. This man would appreciate ginger and lemon, she had a sense about things such as this.
After several minutes the man came upon her small house and stared at it, confused. He had a close cropped beard and messy hair. He looked at the wooden beams and tutted to himself, muttering about structural integrity and safety regulations.He walked along the boards and beams very slowly, grappling with the rocks as if they could stop him should he misstep. Arriving on the crooked porch he straightened himself and ran a hand through his hair. Clutching onto the wood sill of the windows, he raised his hand to knock on the door. Before he could though, Cordelia opened it, smiling at him. She started the conversation. “Hello dear, you must be Grant Ivermacker. I’ve been expecting you. Come in and have a spot of tea.”
He cocked his eye at her and said, “did the company tell you I would be coming? We have plans to build a small housing development on this land. I was unaware there was anyone living here.”
Cordelia smiled sadly and turned her back on the man. This was what she had expected. They have been coming more and more recently. She slowly began to pour tea into her tea pot and shaking her head said, “I apologize my dear, but this land is protected.”
“By who?”
“Me, dearie.” | 2022-07-01T20:37:22 | 2022-07-01T19:26:12 | 47 | 29 |
[WP] You're arrested and locked in the most infamous, inescapable, cruel prison. Dealing with you requires four armoured guards carrying tasers. Every inmate looks at you with terror. Except one. One inmate asks "What's a cute thing like you doing here?" Despite being ten, you look up with a grin... | ‘For all the years I have lived on this earth.. through the times of the Romans, the Greeks, Egyptians… The slaughters I’ve caused… Im sure they still remember me in Romania.. I have never met someone with such blatant disregard for their surroundings..
The other prisoners look upon me with fear and terror in their eyes. 4 guards with tasers that have enough output to cook my insides have to escort me everywhere’.
This utter idiot just asks me ‘What’s a cute thing like you doing here?’
“What do you think ?” I say as I look up with the most devilish grin I can
“I bit sideways into a kitkat bar” | I look back, the 14,000 years that I have lived through pass show in my eyes, the inmate suddenly understands that he is insignificant and that I could kill him just by snapping my fingers. But before I could do anything I take a nightstick across the back of my head and suddenly I see stars and fall to my knees, and yet I always get up, always whether it is decapitation in which case my head teleports back through science I am not familiar with, or having my spine snapped and then my curse happens I suddenly get the part of the spine that is snapped convert to cybernetics. and of course, I age so slowly that it takes over 1,000 thousand years for me to age a single year. but the prison will not hold me, I will escape somehow.
2 days later
I am back in solitary confinement in the center of the prison. It is white, all is white, I understand that they are torturing me but I have been given a blood eagle and never screamed. Of course, my vision went but as I have not gotten any prosthetic eyes it will come back in around 10 years. so I now need to escape without letting the guards know how I did it. Suddenly I have an idea, not a very good one mind you but an idea nonetheless, I fake my death as I bleed out a lot as well as just biting off my eyes and just letting myself be picked up and tossed in a cremation urn as I have been burned to a crisp before again the curse will not let me die. so I bite off my hand red gray-blood everywhere with the gray pooling back into me. and the plan is a success I fake passing out so the guards stab my chest and take me on an odd route. As we go to our destination let me tell you about my curse or blessing whichever way you are on about it, It is nanites though you probably have guessed, the nanites form a semi-intelligent Digital Sapience which through a process I understand but cannot replicate they turn me to a cyborg a ship of Theseus if you will as parts of me will be replaced as they get broken or stolen.
I cannot finish this I am sorry | 2022-11-12T21:32:46 | 2022-11-12T15:21:47 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] Reversed Hades and Persephone situation: the Goddess of Life kidnaps the God of Death to be her new husband, meaning that six months of the year things are normal but the other half literally nothing is able to die. | I hated how it was all we would hear about for the two months prior. We hadn't even finished celebrating Remembrance Day, and already we would see the notices plastered on billboards, on the front page of the news paper, notices sent to our phones. For two months we would be subjected to the daily reminders. "DayLife Savings Time is coming!"
Some people saw this as a holiday. It was an opportunity for athletes and thrill seekers to push their physical limits without worrying about the consequences. Many saw an opportunity to delve into their depravities and enjoy mind altering chemicals in extreme doses. My family always treated it as a somber six months; a time to pity those who survived car crashes and house fires. For an unlucky select few it was even a much needed six month vacation. After all, what good are paramedics and doctors in a world in which you literally can't die? Well, except to tend to 'survivors'.
Ever present was the ceaseless march of capitalism. 'Marketing opportunities at their finest,' as touted by some advertising magnate or another. We were peddled emergency preparedness kits. 'Protect your family. Protect yourself'. Nobody wanted to be buried alive, or drug beneath the ocean, or set on fire. Even so, we weren't going to stop going on cruises, or cancel our camping trip during the prime fishing months. So out of our fear and hubris we went to purchase a false belief that we could somehow mitigate our own bad decisions. Decisions which, of course, remained both unmitigated and unimpeded.
Rockstar Layne Montague made headlines in 1982 when he announced his imminent death. "I've done like, so many drugs man, that my heart literally has exploded. Our final concert will be the eve of DayLife Savings Time's end. All proceeds go to charity." Which was a nice gesture, until it slowly morphed into The Concert of the Century. I believe they tripled the highest attendance for a concert that day. It was so popular that it became the chic way for an artist to end their career, and every single time it was some kind of record breaking event. One year there were *fourteen* artists going out at once. Deathstock '99 become a cultural phenom.
You know it's just a game for some people. "How much damage can we take now if we have six months to heal?" This is where the internet really came into the picture. That kind of thing had always been publicly frowned upon. Women would cluck their tongues and men would sadly shake their head and ask "What has gone wrong in these lads lives. Yet once the videos were available online we started watching. Then as we watched the advertisers came. As the advertisers got rich, the network executives took notice. Then came the blood sport.
And here's where we are. Ten years ago, they launched The Arena Network. For six months of the year death in exciting, drama filled seasons are broadcast around the world. The only cost to sate our blood lust, apparently, is sitting through the same Huggies commercial six times an hour. It's not like anyone ever actually died either. If nobody died, then our conscience could stay clean, so why *wouldn't* we watch? Then The Arena grew bigger and bigger, needed more bandwidth, an extra satellite. So they sent up a satellite! But the goddamn satellite didn't work did it? If the satellite doesn't work, then they can't make as much money! So they went and found two dickheads who needed money, then gave them a lot of it to come up here at the very beginning of DayLifeSavingsTime all so these dickheads can fix the damn satellite. In *space*.
*And fucking then* of course while we're out here some rogue satellite hits the ship and sends it off course away from us with a busted engine so Charlie can't come back to find us.
"Ralph."
"Yes Mark?"
"Please shut up."
The silence provided only a moment of peace.
"And since we can't even tell time out here without a point of reference..."
"God dammit Ralph." | With a heaving yell, Lukas pulled himself up and over the outcropping. He breathed out only once a bundled boot found purchase on the snowy ground. He stood, dusted himself down, and almost fell right back over the edge when he saw the monstrosity before him.
"Ho, young sardassi! The Sacred Grove is no place for mortals. Begone of this place," the giant bellowed, hefting a club larger than the spindled trees. "Or I will jelly your bones for my tapas."
The mouth was lower down the long face than Lukas would have guessed, but it was hard to see anything through the beard dense as a lion's mane. He winced against the raging wind and craned his neck up to the bloodshot eyes of the Nephilim.
"Step aside, godling. I have come to rescue death!" Lukas spoke, voice almost lost in the storm. "I will send you to wait in your grave if you do not."
His javelin was heavy in his weary hand, but was still too light to fly true this high to heaven. He denied the cold and did not shake, scanning the mountain left to climb above the behemoth and its ceiling of clouds finally looming close.
"With that toothpick, you would speak so boldly?" the giant boomed, smile showing moss-covered stones. "Death's little tryst has made paper heroes of you fools! I may not be able to set sail to the glimmer in your eyes, but I can still set you to rest here."
The giant smacked his belly and a dozen weak moans within cried out in discordant harmony. "You won't be lonely."
Lukas let the javelin fly from his hand, his exhaustion taking nothing from his form. The wind carried it far above the giant's head, tapping against the boulder above but nothing more.
"Hah! I will scrawl that little embarrassment onto your grave before I shit you into it." The giant laughed, hard enough to roll the stones, then harder still at his own horrifying promise. Lukas hoped it was enough.
Lukas sank his pick into the frozen ground at his feet then began wrapping himself snug against it. A distant tapping echoed off the blanketed cliffs above.
"And what game is this? First, you miss me then you try to dig in like a stubborn tick?" The giant stepped forward. The tapping grew brothers, tap tapping together.
"I didn't miss," Lukas said, white knuckled against the handle as the mountain began to roar.
The giant fell, legs busting as the avalanche crashed into the clearing of his home. "Damn you, fool! I'll-"
He was swept off the edge without another word as the white covered Lukas. He felt his skin burn with the flooding snow, filling his eyes and his lungs. He slept for a time.
Were death to be available, it would have taken him. Instead, he woke and set to work digging upward, lifeless strength unabated. He was a grave waiter now, suffering in limbo alongside his father. He looked up the short trail, all that was left of his long journey. He would free death and all the grave waiters alongside.
The garden of life stood framed by a grand wall of vines. Lukas tapped the single knocker, hard to spot through the thickets.
The garden opened its pulsing yonic doorway, spilling flower petals accompanying its sweet warmth. Lukas took no break to savor its radiance.
They lounged, the pair, right in front of him with no pomp, no circumstance, looking so much handsome man and wife rather than Gods.
"And who are you?" The Goddess asked, lowering her wine and raising an eyebrow. "I am quite busy as you can see with my cherished guest." She held a hand unburned over one of the flaming pillars.
"I've come to rescue death and end the suffering of the grave waiters," Lukas said, holding his third and last weapon, the curved blade of his father.
The man chuckled, downing his drink and twirling the thin sickle in his left hand. It chirped in sad birdsong. "I require no rescue, lad. Though I did fight initially, I've grown rather fond of the Sacred Grove and its many delights. I believe I will stay through the winter and return to clean up your messes in the spring. Thanks for the offer, but begone."
"I thought that might be your answer," Lukas said, holding out the sword.
"No mortal hand can wield this," Death said, waving his sickle. "Rob me and it will burn through to your soul."
Kicking over the pillar nearest to blaze against the foliage, Lukas jumped forward. A landing, one clean slice, a muted scream and it was done.
"Bloody scamp cut off my hand," Death said, holding up the stump incredulously.
Lukas gritted his teeth and sliced again, sending his own left hand to flop on the stones. He shoved the god's hand in its place and held the mangled mess over the fires of the Goddess of life. The wound began to mend. The fingers tingled.
"What have you done!" The Goddess yelled, looking at him with either awe or disgust.
"Nothing yet," Lukas said, flexing his new hand. He twirled the Godsteel tool and it chirped with giddy need of work. "But there is much I will."
The sickle sang twice and the garden grew still.
---------
If you enjoyed this, check out my subreddit, /r/surinical. | 2022-11-15T21:10:30 | 2022-11-15T18:36:56 | 110 | 33 |
[WP] Nonhuman youths swap stories about humans around a campfire equivalent. The stories are true, if wildly misinterpreted.
-012 | Human stories... classic. There was a tumblr about these once
welp looks like someone screen grabbed it http://imgur.com/hINj1xf
if I can find the story I wrote back then. I'll share it. I'm still thinking about making a subreddit for it but I can't figure out if it'll last more than a month. | Chicky, Clucky, Beak, Henny, and Ralph were sitting around the bonfire sharing scary stories. It was Ralph's turn.
"There once was a family, who lived happily on their farm. They lived out their days in peace and tranquility, eating their delicious corn and grain. One day a large featherless beast came and captured the family. He took them to a dark chamber filled with many hanging bodies. The family was terrified and they yelled and screamed and begged for mercy. The beast grabbed the father by the neck, placed him on the table and WACK"
Everyone jumped when Ralph boomed the noise. He stayed silent for a few seconds to let the mood sink in.
"His head fell off!" *gasp*
"The beast started pulling the father's feathers from his body as his family cried. Meticulously the beast continued the process with the rest of the family, plucking their feathers and draining the bodies of blood. He dismembered their bodies and dipped the pieces in the a whipped concoction of the unborn. Than he covered the pieces in bread crumbs and dropped them in a boiling vat of oil." *gasp*
"The beast then threw the pieces of their deep fried body parts into a bucket and fed them to a group of more beasts!"
At this point Henny passed out at the idea. The group of chicks clucked their approval of the scary story.
"Ralph that was terrifying! How did you come up with such a scary story?" Clucky just had to know.
"I saw the whole thing with my own eyes when I lived in Kentucky. The colonel that ran the farm I came from was just like the beast in my story!"
This time Chicky gasped and passed out. | 2014-01-12T15:08:21 | 2014-01-12T12:35:20 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] A secretly immortal man is given a life sentence for a crime he didn't commit and now fears the discovery of his true nature is only a matter of time. | (Apologies in advance for formatting) I've been around the block a few times. I've seen some bizzare stuff. The strangest thing, though... fear. Definitely strange. Due to my, uh, unique circumstances, I don't know much about it. I only see it reflected in others. Usually the eyes. Those unlucky Revolution soldiers as they watched me get up from those musket shots...that would-be mugger whose knife I shrugged off in '93... definitely afraid of me. But this might just be the first time I've been afraid of them. Not of any weapons or force, but of consequences. What they'd do if they found me out. Something tells me my old routine from the freak show won't amuse them when they're trying to put the needle back in my arm. The way I see it, I'm looking at something much worse than Solitary if they think for a second I'm immortal. Which I am. Or, have been since I woke from that ritual with my tattoos. Luckily, they're pretty inconspicuous little things. Don't quite remember how it ties to my "ability". Not that it matters. "...last words, son?" A voice shakes me out if my own head. My last words. I suppose they're wrong in that respect, but I'll try and be eloquent. "God help us." Yeah...that's how I'd like them to sound if they were my last. I bow my head and wait. A door closes. Silence. The door opens again. "Son, there's been a change. Get up." I look up to meet the eyes of the warden. He's been here longer than most prisoners can remember. He's got a look on his face, like he knows. If that mugger was around to tell you, he'd know that I don't like when people know more about me than I want them to. He doffs his hat and leads me out of the chamber, into an empty hall. He has my tattoo. | Abdul stared at the warden sitting across from him. Both were stone-faced. They were in the middle of a soundproof interrogation room. Six guards were stationed outside, ready to intervene should things turn violent.
Abdul had the upper hand in this discussion.
"My prison has been very accommodating of you for the past twenty years." The warden said quietly, staring Abdul eye-to-eye.
"Indeed, and I am grateful for your accommodations." Abdul said silently. For the past twenty years, Abdul had voluntarily kept himself in solitary confinement.
"Let's just cut to the chase then. I know that you aren't aging. And you know that you aren't aging." The warden said, again quietly. Abdul nodded slowly. Minus a change in hairstyle, Abdul didn't look any different than he had 20 years ago. The lack of superficial changes weren't the only notable feature about him though. Despite the camera in his cell clearly showing that he did nothing but sit cross-legged all day, he had walked to the interrogation room as if he did that every day.
"I want your secret." The warden concluded. Abdul raised an eyebrow at him. Finally, Abdul spoke.
"I have no secret." Abdul said in a Brooklyn accent.
"Don't lie to me." The warden suddenly snarled, slamming his fists on the table. "I can expose you. You'll be nothing but a government experiment, something to be picked apart for your abilities." Abdul merely raised his hand in a stop position, smiling faintly. He spoke again.
"I have no secret." Abdul repeated, this time in a strange accent that the warden couldn't place. "I merely aged until I was like this, and stopped." His accent changed again with this sentence, this time sounding like something vaguely European. "Chinese Emperors have had me dissected." His accent changed to a strange Asian accent now. "When the Vatican ruled, popes had me imprisoned for years as an atrocity against humanity, and secretly in hopes of recreating me as a weapon of the church." Something vaguely Italian. "In Great Britain, a King once had me serve in his court, partly in the hope of discovering how I have done what I have done." Vaguely British now. "In World War 2, I was captured by the Germans and made to experience pain that victims of the concentration camps couldn't imagine." Vaguely German now. "Finally, I came to America." His accent was back to a Brooklyn accent now. "The U.S. government knows of me, and checks in on me. They too are unable to determine what I am." Abdul smiled even wider, and suddenly his accent was similar to the warden's as he spoke. "Recently of course, I was jailed for something I did not do. I will wait it out, as I waited out the Nazi regime."
The two sat there, silent again. The warden silently fumed. Abdul just stared at the warden with a smirk, like a cat who had caught a canary. Finally, Abdul spoke again, still using the warden's accent.
"You are right in one aspect. I do fear widespread discovery." Abdul said, standing up slowly. "In 70 years, when I get out, and if people know how old I am..."
"They'll make a goddamn reality show out of my life." Abdul said with a snarl, punching the warden in the nose. | 2014-08-18T09:31:10 | 2014-08-18T09:09:57 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The Crips and the Bloods ally with each other against ISIS. The world laughs as thousands of gang members board a cruise ship and set sail for the Middle East. The two gangs land on the shores of Syria and begin their fight against ISIS.
Let's see how the two gangs fare.
EDIT: These are great, guys! Thanks for all the stories. I've read some, and I'll read the rest later. | "Don't shoot, I'm Shia not Sunni! How come you westerners can never understand the difference?!"
"Oh. I understand the difference, more than you'll never know..." *blaat* (cut to thug life vine)
Alternative: dearest laquisha,
The days are hot and the nights are cold in this barren desert of Syria. I opine for these like a crack head who just received their EBT and are on their way to Slick Ricks on Myrtle and Broadway. I dare say that I find the differences between our former enemies, now turned brethren in arms, near inconsequential. A new ally, Jamaal a Blood from Queensbridge, showed me the effective improvement in aerodynamics through bandanas folding. I lament my ignorance for so long.
Please remember that every time you feel that eastern wind blowing, upon those winds are the whispers of my love for you. You will always be my baby and my baby momma.
As I crip walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no niggas: for I know that the Lord and your love is with me.
Lt. Colonel Mason "Truth" Williams
Ps please find enclosed my mix tape, which is as fire as the desert sun. | Nobody could tell if the news reports were real or if it was "the onion" taking over all mass media outlets. "Gang Members Backed by Walt Disney World take on ISIS" one headline read. Below a picture of the megacruise Disney's Majestic was shown crowed with shirts of Red White and Blue.
It all started with a press conference held by Walt Disney Worlds CEO Veteran Ryan Gallagher. "In wake of recent homeland attacks by the Islamic State President Donald Trump has called for American Citizens to weaponize themselves in order to keep this great nation secure. We have been called to fight on our own land against outside invaders who wish to take it from us. While this is a necessity, here at Disney we believe the old saying "The best defense is a good offense." Syria has fallen and the Islamic State now has clearly defined boarders where they can train and grow. In response to Presidents call Disney would like to offer all US Citizens the opportunity to bring the fight to ISIS in order to prevent more homeland terror. It is time we brought terror to ISIS. Disney will provide transportation, meals, and housing in the form of our largest cruise ships. We are asking for donations of weapons and manpower. I cannot assure your safety but I can assure you I will be on the front lines with you. Please checkout stopISIS.com for more details. Thank You."
The speech reached 4 million views on Youtube within the hour. Debates began, some of the efficacy of the plans, others on whether it was all an elaborate PR scheme. The donations of weapons was more than anyone could imagine. Thousands of donations from 9mm pistols to AR-15's to a few illegal fully automatic MAC 11's.
What was not growing at a rapid pace was the amount of people who were willing to go fight on the front lines. The US government immediately responded to Disney in a statement that called Mr. Gallagher a "good intenting yet misinformed patriot". The Department of Defense advised that entering a war zone untrained would be certain death. With coverage on every major news outlet, Gallagher's words were heard by millions but followed by cautionary tales of danger.
Citizens around the world mocked Disney and the United States for the lack a response. Two days after the speech financial and weapons support was more than enough to make Gallagher's vision a reality but only 259 people had signed up for the voyage, even less had actually started their trip to the cruise ports.
Today everything changed. While the world closely monitored the pulse of was gained the nickname of #DeadlyDisney, nobody knew or could have imagined what was going behind the scenes. This morning MomsAgainstGangViolence | 2015-12-07T10:09:17 | 2015-12-07T09:53:24 | 146 | 18 |
[WP] The Crips and the Bloods ally with each other against ISIS. The world laughs as thousands of gang members board a cruise ship and set sail for the Middle East. The two gangs land on the shores of Syria and begin their fight against ISIS.
Let's see how the two gangs fare.
EDIT: These are great, guys! Thanks for all the stories. I've read some, and I'll read the rest later. | We thought that the devils of the west only sent us more soldiers for the hounds of Allah to feast on, yet more greedy, rich, decadent American blood to bath in.
We did not expect this. They moved in, accepting our ways, then they divided us. Drugs were always an issue regarding our warriors, young and boorish, but ours were always clean.
In months, a blight spread through our ranks, once proud soldiers of god now begged for change.
Hashish, cocaine, heroin, all tainted and gradually reduced in their dosages, cut with who knows what.
Suicide bombers detonated early, men went naked into the streets, striking at whatever crossed their path, dancing and crying.
Holy sites, population centers, and marketplaces were marked with red and blue paint. Rotted from within, we were slaughtered with ease when soldiers came, painting white stars amidst the territory symbols, screaming triumph and domination.
I see now the truth of the world, and I want no part of it. Allah is no longer, and Islam is dead. Mohammed shall beg my forgiveness.
*video found near corpse of confirmed ISIS leader. Death found to be self inflicted gunshot wound to the skull.* | Nobody could tell if the news reports were real or if it was "the onion" taking over all mass media outlets. "Gang Members Backed by Walt Disney World take on ISIS" one headline read. Below a picture of the megacruise Disney's Majestic was shown crowed with shirts of Red White and Blue.
It all started with a press conference held by Walt Disney Worlds CEO Veteran Ryan Gallagher. "In wake of recent homeland attacks by the Islamic State President Donald Trump has called for American Citizens to weaponize themselves in order to keep this great nation secure. We have been called to fight on our own land against outside invaders who wish to take it from us. While this is a necessity, here at Disney we believe the old saying "The best defense is a good offense." Syria has fallen and the Islamic State now has clearly defined boarders where they can train and grow. In response to Presidents call Disney would like to offer all US Citizens the opportunity to bring the fight to ISIS in order to prevent more homeland terror. It is time we brought terror to ISIS. Disney will provide transportation, meals, and housing in the form of our largest cruise ships. We are asking for donations of weapons and manpower. I cannot assure your safety but I can assure you I will be on the front lines with you. Please checkout stopISIS.com for more details. Thank You."
The speech reached 4 million views on Youtube within the hour. Debates began, some of the efficacy of the plans, others on whether it was all an elaborate PR scheme. The donations of weapons was more than anyone could imagine. Thousands of donations from 9mm pistols to AR-15's to a few illegal fully automatic MAC 11's.
What was not growing at a rapid pace was the amount of people who were willing to go fight on the front lines. The US government immediately responded to Disney in a statement that called Mr. Gallagher a "good intenting yet misinformed patriot". The Department of Defense advised that entering a war zone untrained would be certain death. With coverage on every major news outlet, Gallagher's words were heard by millions but followed by cautionary tales of danger.
Citizens around the world mocked Disney and the United States for the lack a response. Two days after the speech financial and weapons support was more than enough to make Gallagher's vision a reality but only 259 people had signed up for the voyage, even less had actually started their trip to the cruise ports.
Today everything changed. While the world closely monitored the pulse of was gained the nickname of #DeadlyDisney, nobody knew or could have imagined what was going behind the scenes. This morning MomsAgainstGangViolence | 2015-12-07T09:53:36 | 2015-12-07T09:53:24 | 76 | 18 |
[WP] You have a box, with a button. Press it and a year later you'll be right back to when you pressed it. A year without consequences. | The box had 2 lines written on the side:
* Press and live as you wish for 1 year
* At the end of 1 year, you will be returned to the moment the button was pressed
The opportunity was intriguing. He couldn't just ignore the box. Life was hard, but with the option of "practicing," perhaps things could actually be better. He pressed the button.
Nothing felt different, as far as he could tell. There was no tingling sensation or vertigo. The box just sat there with the button depressed. So began his practice year. At first, he had trouble overriding his social instincts. He would catch himself backing down when he should have stood up for himself or allowing risky choices to slip by, but he eventually caught on. The first change was boldness. He quit that job he hated and told his boss what he really thought. He took up painting, to pursue his childhood passion. His landlord kicked him out after failed rent, but he didn't mind. He learned the experience of a homeless man, standing in line for food and hoping there was enough room at the shelter. When he decided he had enough, he took a job bartending. He spent that time meeting people and investing what advice he could. He met her. At the start of the year, he would not have even looked her in the eye, but all his inhibitions were removed, thanks to the box. They moved in. As they spent time together, his freedom infected her. They fell in love. He proposed to her and she said yes.
After they set their wedding date, he realized that it was the same day his year began. He was not going to waste a minute of this precious year he had been granted. When the day came, he brought the box with him to the chapel. His year was about to expire. He sat there with the box waiting for it to take him back. Sadly, the box began to shift in his lap and he closed his eyes. Then, the button popped up! After resigning himself to his fate, he opened his eyes. there was a hole where the button had been. He hesitantly reached into the hole and found a small scrap of paper.
"You're welcome."
He stood up, with tears in his eyes, and walked into the chapel.
EDIT: Thanks for the feedback and warm welcome. I cannot wait to post again! | The most important day of my life was the one when I received this powerful magical artifact. It was a time machine, but with one limitation: it only had the ability to send me back in time to when I activated it.
So if I pressed the big red emergency button on its top, in a year's time I would be sent back to the point at which I pressed it. In effect, it was a pocket dimension that brought me to a dream world for a year, then dumped me right back where I was in real life.
However, there are some problems with only being able to spend exactly one year: If I did something really horrible, I'd have to kill my dream self to escape into the real world. And if I did something great, it would all be gone at year's end and I would never be able to get it back.
This was a major block to using the power for anything not of the utmost importance. Sure, I could ask my friend if she loves me, but even if she says yes in the dream world, there's no guarantee it'll go the same in real life.
Most people, I bet, would go live a life of raping and pillaging and committing endless crimes without consequences. But when you think harder, you realize that there's still a whole year of punishment ahead of you. Unless you die in a gunfight, you're going to spend the rest of the year in prison or a mental hospital, the latter of which is probably the worst-case scenario since they actively try to prevent you from killing yourself and escaping the dreamworld.
The first time I used the time machine, I went through a year of high school and did my best to learn everything. It was a rather productive year as far as academics go, but I avoided social interaction because that would go away after returning to reality. Once the year was finally over and I returned to real life, I easily breezed through all of the coursework that I had learned once already. Spent the rest of the year playing Fallout 4, which I don't do in the dream world because all my progress would go away.
Some major events that happen in the dream world may go differently in real life, or may not even happen at all. Everything based on random chance rerolls itself and may have an entirely different outcome, and anything that's based on my decisions will be completely different if I do even the slightest thing off from what I did in the previous dream world.
The second time I used the time machine, it was again to gain experience for use in real life. I took an unpaid internship in the IT department of a local company. The job itself was mostly uninteresting, but it gave me a look into the inner workings of the company, so in the real year, I got hired and moved up the company ladder easily.
That summer in the dream world, Six Flags over Texas announced a new ride, and finished it a week before the day I would return to reality. So I rode on a rollercoaster that nobody else in real life ever has. Kinda surreal.
The third and final time I used the machine, I did some kinda bad stuff. At first I went on with my life as though it were real, but towards the end of the year I secretly hooked up with this really hot girl who went to college with me. It's fun when you know that even if you get her pregnant, the baby will never be born because the dream world shuts down before that. That kinda made me think about the ethics of the dream world. The time machine makes carbon copies of everyone in the world, and then destroys them instantly after a year. But if I bring a life into the world, and then destroy it immediately? It kinda made me feel bad, and I didn't use the time machine again. | 2015-12-15T08:51:18 | 2015-12-15T08:25:37 | 129 | 10 |
[WP] God forgot about Earth soon after Adam and Eve, fully expecting them to die. One of the Angels just informed him they survived, and the population is over 7 billion. | "Sir! I believe that Lucifer is cheating." States Metatron, his tone annoyed as he tabs through a series of numbers and files. "If that's the case I'm not sure on who should be winning the game."
"Lucifer is cheating on what? What game? Where are you playing?" States God, as he places his paintbrush down, leaving what looks like a 4th dimensional solar system in hiatus as he turns to look at his Angel.
"Return to Eden. In the break room... You know the game?" The last phrase coming out as a hopeful question. But God just frowns.
"Return to Eden?" He mutters. Steadily sifting through trillions of projects, each ranging in size from universe to atom. "I made no such game."
"Well," Mutters Metatron, quickly looking through his notes, obviously shocked at such a statement from the lord of everything.
"It was just known as Edinnu when you last touched it. Though the humans had a hard time pronouncing it, they shortened it to Eden. It was the Garden on the Steppe, the third stone away from the Zion Star." Comments another voice, one that demanded authority, but wasn't aggressive about it.
God's eyes widened with realization. "The one with the Kin-slaying!?"
"Yes." Responds Lucifer with a small smile. He looks at Metatron. "You left it in disgust, and no one moved it. But when you reorganized our offices, the room hosting that planet.."
"Became the break room." Finishes God before Lucifer can go any further. "How many redundancies and self corrections has it gone through?"
It was at this time that Metatron spoke up. "All of them sir. The last one was quite a while ago. Prophets, secondary beings, altered histories, mystically enhanced beings, saviors... All design setups are well past their expiration date."
"Really," Mutters God. "And you're doing what with them?" He asks, only for Lucifer's voice to echo through the halls as a laugh.
"It's a game that Micheal and I created." Responds Lucifer with a smile. "Return to Eden. We gave humanity a goal. All they have to do is return to the state of kindness and peace that they had before the apple, before their civilization ends. We score points and mark office benefits based on the success and failures of the teams." States Lucifer with a grin.
"Teams?" Asks God, standing up.
"Peace and Prosperity, versus War and Destruction. My team is War." Responds Lucifer. "And ever since Archduke Franz Ferdinand, my team has been WAY in the lead."
"Show me." Responds God.
Lucifer and Metatron bow and start leading the way. God follows and you can almost feel the whispers and awe among the court of angels. God rarely left his office, and it was even more rare for him to be doing it without some new goal or phase for this plane of reality. As they maneuvered through the halls, they hear a series of cheers. Metatron quickly flips through his papers. "Leo won an Oscar and used the moment to start another press on fixing the planet's climate change."
Lucifer's face scrunches with disappointment. "What about the Republican party?"
Metatron flips the page. "Still scoring you points."
"Fair enough." States Lucifer as he opens the door to the break room. Immediately causing a flurry of movement as God enters, making each and every angel immediately wonder if there was a project they were behind on.
God just stares at the planet with an appraising look. "7 billion... and look at that. There's still hope... There's still a lot of pain." He continued to mutter as he appraised the planet, and even Lucifer had to gasp as thousands of statistics and figures swirl around the planet. Showing things that none of the angels had considered looking at on how the planet was doing.
God then reached over and took the sheets of paper from Metatron and flipped through them casually before handing them back. "Lucifer exploited a legal loophole. Far from fair, but still legal by your rules." God then takes a pen and starts writing in small functions and rules into the Earth setting.
"What just happened?" Asks a voice from behind God. It was Michael, and he was staring at a portable device keeping track of Earth. Then he realizes who was in the room in front of him. "Sir!"
"After penance, all go to heaven, win or lose." States God. "I won't exile those who I forgot. All deserve peace in the end."
At that both Michael and Lucifer blink. "Yes sir." they both state in unison.
God puts a hand on each of their shoulders, and then steps out of the break room, much to the relief of all of the minor angels. Some go back to work, as others return to their break.
Metatron looks up at the two. "God said that the use of the loophole was legal. The Satan gambit is still in effect." And with that Lucifer grins and Michael face-palms.
"So how much does that make me owe you?" Asks Micheal in a pained voice. | The Father stood proudly next to his Son, admiring all of the work that brought him to where he found himself today - at the edge of the Reflection in the Great Hall of Growing.
"As all have before you, so shall you Grow into your own" the Father spoke, his voice carrying effortlessly over the rows of Helpers attending in the honour of the Son. Tears streamed from the glowing faces of many as they watched the entity they knew as God smile up at the Father who returned his warm gaze in adoration. The Son turned to his Helpers and raised his arms in gratitude.
"Were it not for your guidance and love, I would not be here today. To my Angels, I thank thee!"
Thunderous applause and cheering boomed against the bright marble curves of the hall, the joy filling every available space. The waters of the Reflection began to stir as the excitement drew silent. The Father placed a comforting hand on his Son's shoulder as they both peered into the emerging ripples of the pool.
One by one, the Son's accomplishments took shape in the centre of a ripple; world after world created in an infinite universe, each one a perfect picture of his work. One image a beautiful and untouched natural landscape built from his first feelings of love, another a sharp and aesthetically perfect dimension that housed all of his thoughts on his existence and purpose.
The Son watched closely as the Father walked the perimeter of the Reflection, stopping to take in various points of interest to himself or to reflect on his own journey to his Growth. He felt proud and confident that he would soon be a Father, guiding his own children as he had been up to this point. His thoughts on how he would shape their journeys was quietly but quickly pulled out of focus.
"God, please forgive me."
A Helper stood meekly behind the Son with his head bowed, though the tears he bore twinkled fleetingly as they fell. He was an Angel, in fact *the* Angel, first assigned to the Son on his First Day. Morningstar, he called him, as his arrival heralded the beginning of the Son's journey. Aged yet beautiful, the Son looked upon him curiously.
"Come, today is not for sorrows and apologies." The Son took his hand and led him from the Reflection. "What could be troubling you on this day of all days?"
"There is something wrong.." the old Angel replied ".. with one of your creations." The Son strained to think what he could mean; each world and universe is what the Father showed him he could create, as is expected of one not yet Grown.
"What could you have found, dear Morningstar?" He asked.
"Earth, my friend. It lives."
Across the Hall the Father continued assessing the exploits shown in brief images on the surface of the Reflection. Each new vision showed how adeptly his Son had grasped the concept of creation, in developing worlds that could be fit for life. As old world views were swept away for images of the new, he nodded approvingly.
The Son's eyes widened and quickly shot across the Reflection, to the Father before falling back upon the old Angel.
"What of it?! It must surely be but dust by now!" His hushed voice betraying a panic that was so unlike him. The Son's memories flashed back to the world, created in a flash of seven days, a brash but secret decision that seemed so devious yet unimportant at the time. "Tell me, Morningstar! What has become of the two abominations?"
Somewhere in his Dawn had the Son decided to err. Life was an ultimate goal for him and his kind, but something taken so seriously that to create it was something only the Grown began. There were so many intricacies about it that the journey itself focused on the creation of environment and habitat; the essential building blocks for supporting life. Yet he, the Son, would not wait to create life when he felt ready to do so before his Growth. He would call himself God and start with two; Adam and Eve.
"They lived." The Angel spoke in hurried and hushed tones. "They survived and then multiplied." The Son stood in equal parts shock and horror. How? How could they have? The Earth was an early endeavour, an experiment of land and sea that had gone so well it was too complex and unusable in his Growth journey. "They used the resources of that world you created to thrive in such a short amount of time that we never saw it happen."
"How many are they now?" The Son asked, keeping a careful watch on the Father still pacing the circle of the Reflection.
"They quite surprisingly achieved the unthinkable in the blink of an eye." The old Angel stalled for time.
"*How many?!*"
"7 billion and growing." The Morningstar shuffled his feet and kept his gaze on the floor. The Son's breathing froze as he searched for an explanation.
The Earth, beautiful and majestic, was a work of art. Something no Helper had ever seen made by one so young... and yet his forbidden foray into making life had gone so terribly wrong. Where he, God, had given them paradise, they had chosen to disobey. Adam and Eve ate of the Apple, a symbol of the Son's authority, and he had cast them to the Wastes. They should not have survived, he thought. They could not have...
The Son's own thoughts were shattered by a booming rage that broke the calm of the Great Hall. His eyes flashed back to the Father - his bright white aura replaced by a terrible black and fire storm, gold tendrils whipping like snakes at the edges of his shape. Helpers flew from the balconies above, scrambling to escape. The Son himself watched with envy, for he knew escape for him was impossible. The Father drew nearer and nearer, each step now a ground shaking tremor.
The Son felt a hand inside his; old and frail but comforting all the same. He looked beside him as the Morningstar held his gaze on the approaching Father whose anger was as clear as the densely populated Earth vision floating upon the Reflection.
"I am sorry, my God." the Angel said again.
"Nonsense, old friend." the Son replied, his chest swelling with love for the old Helper who remained at his side despite the coming storm of the Father that would near destroy them both.
"No," Morningstar continued "I could not stop you from creating the lives of Adam and Eve.. But it was I who convinced them to eat of the tree."
The Angel looked up again at the Son with regret and sorrow in his eyes.
"Then we both believed that the death of these humans would absolve us of our sins against the Father." the Son replied. "Perhaps we are both worthy of the Giver Of Death title." | 2016-03-07T07:23:50 | 2016-03-07T07:19:57 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] On your first day as a supervillain, you secretly swap all the regular coffee on Earth with decaf. You envision this as a fun, little starter prank. To say you miscalculated the potential impact of your "prank" is putting it mildly... | How do you rank up from apprentice super villain to public enemy No. 1, in a single morning ? Well, that’s pretty easy. You remove coffee from the world. I expected some grumpy people, and a nice way to make a name for myself. I didn’t expected… that.
I’m now known as “Coffee Killer, the destroyer of worlds”. That’s a terrible, terrible name. How could I know that the world runs on coffee ? It literally runs on it !
It has started in the United states, and it has started slow. A few dozen, then a few hundreds. Then a hundred thousands, all on the streets. Violence, riots, burning cars. Law and Order just dissolved into nothingness, people were blaming the government, the Mexicans, the police, China, Russia. Name it, they blamed it. The news were all over the place : TV, internet, newspapers. Everyone knew that coffee wasn’t just coffee anymore. China grinded to halt, people refused to work. Mass suicides in Japan. A huge spike in Indian Spiritualism.
And then, morning reached Europe. Oh boy... Europe. They went crazy. Germany accused Great Britain because they signed the Brexit, Poland accused Russia to try to destabilize eastern Europe. And France… Well, France invaded Germany. Because “It’s an old Nazi super-weapon, and they are using it to destroy democracy again”. I don’t know why the are talking about Nazis, but it’s probably just an excuse and they believe that the Germans have some coffee stored somewhere.
News got out that it was me, but I’m pretty safe here. After all, most of Britain doesn’t care, tea is still the same.
| Well I brought down the internet. I mean I wasn't really trying to, but who knew that every good computer guy and gal ran off of coffee. Literally.
It was widely joked that computer people run off of coffee. But everyone knew this was just hyperbole. Until I used my matter/anti-matter displacer to eliminate caffeine from the major distribution centers. As my first act of world leader I wanted to cleanse our world of "artifice" and I figured the easiest would be our reliance on coffee to run modern society.
Once I had shown people that we could run a cleaner constructive world without drugs and harmful habits peace would naturally follow. Or so I thought. But it turns out that the most productive members of society have genetic factors that strip them of the ability to care without some sort of stimulant.
In fact without coffee, the addicts became increasingly irritated. Math majors quit overnight. Not a big loss. Surgeons in the middle of long complicated processes needed to save lives, quit. All of this was expected and no big loss.
But then I found out the computer people were most affected. Those who were competent were all on coffee and it was the one thing in their lives that kept them from going completely round the twist. They were already barely holding in the killing rage at "Error: PC load letter." Some poor user called in and couldn't remember their password and that was the end. There will be no machine uprising.
The sys-admins have become sentient monsters. Tearing cables out of walls and taking axes, chairs, and any available weapon to the shackles that were our networks. No longer working for the good of mankind they've pulled society apart. Since they and they alone know where all the equipment that makes things work they've turned their obsessive need to keep things with maximal up time into maximal downtime.
TVs are all digital and down, radio stations can no longer broadcast anything. Complex infrastructure to keep electronics going is dying off. The military tried to stop them but they didn't know where to defend. That knowledge was only in the heads of the computer geeks.
The worst part is that they're coming. They're coming for me. I had my base set up as a barrier against the dregs of society. I have running power and an intranet. My minions and I can only hold out so long though. The computer guys are coming. As I type this my router is going out and I can only turn it off and on again so many times before it goes.
So this will be a last post to you my loyal companions. We have the last of technology and it is known. The hordes of computer guys no longer held in by the chemicals in coffee that our governments were using to control them will come.
Caffeine was our savior and I in my arrogance believe that it was our downfall.
If only I had known that every little coffee shop was keeping us together, that even Folgers, horrible jingle and all, was actually the best part of waking up I never would have done it. I can hear the rumblings in the deep. The techs are nearly here.
Good bye. | 2017-02-03T07:57:13 | 2017-02-03T07:22:22 | 64 | 43 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | "So you're back again? When are you going to stop visiting me old man"
"When you're rehabilitated or near enough". "You know my old man is gone right and he was still an asshole when he died"
"Yea well I like to think he was less of an asshole at the end".
Max was like clockwork every Tuesday and Thursday turning up at my place. I always gave him a hard time that he can't save me or my mates but the one day he didn't turn up I nearly tore the city down looking for him. That was the day the mayor realised I could get to him and anyone of his little
League at will. I played my hand and played it hard put 14 of the fuckers in hospital before they found him. He had been saving his neighbours kid from the local bullies. After that the mayor even made sure the league cleaned up the streets around Max's hood so he wouldn't miss an appointment. It must seam funny this impenetrable fortress surrounded by the worst of the worst guarding its location and this old man walks straight through all the defences. I make sure the boys put up a little show but they know if they touch him they answer to me.
Maximum Damage the last of the league of legends my fathers greatest advisory. They nearly killed each other countless times. My fathers powers of radiation manipulation and Max's unlimited strength meant they matched each other well. When my old man was finally caught Max visited him every day in prison and some how when dad escaped 20yrs later he found him and still came by every day. By that stage I was running the show and dads powers were killing him.
Towards the end I told my dad I'd take Max out for him as one last gotcha. He said "We don't kill family". | "Who's this old guy? Have I really killed enough of your minions that you're bringing the retired ones back in?"
"You fool child. Even as an old man he strikes fear into the hearts of more villains than you ever will."
"Dont make me laugh." He chortled back.
"Let me guess you graduated from school a couple of months ago, bought this 80's spandex you're wearing and thought you could join the big leagues. I've killed more 'hero's' than you could imagine and my minions you killed, they were all technicians working for a cover corporation. They didn't even know what was going on here or that I'm in control and by the looks of it you don't know either."
"N...N..No. No you're the bad guy and they all worked for you."
"Technically they work for the E.V.I.L conglomerate corporation which I happen to be a majority share holder in under a different name. You killed at least 50 husbands and wives, that's not even mentioning the number of children who aren't going to see one of their parents tonight. Welcome to being one of the bad guys." Held his arms out inviting the skinny spandex clad youth towards him.
"I.. I.. y.. y.. Yo.. ly.. I.. I.. di.."
"Come on you don't have long now use your words. Not that it matters we don't have much longer now."
"Awfully sorry, I hate to interrupt your conversation but I seem to be at a bit of a loss. I'm sure I came here to do something but I can't quite remember what."
"Please don't apologize, we're all old friends here. You the hero, me your nemesis and the piss soaked boy who still hasn't realized who you are."
"Ohh dear he does seem to have had an accident what a shame." He sympathized while pulling on one of his blazers tweed sleeves. "And you say you're my nemesis? I don't recall having a nemesis."
"Old friend what's become of you? Our battles used to level city blocks. People would cheer when you appeared over the horizon to stop my outlandish plots. But anyway it turns out I can do more damage to the world with a business than as a super villian. Regardless I know better than to try and fight you even on your old age I can feel your power even if you and the boy can't."
"Wh....Who is he?" The quivering figure stammered.
"Child surely if you know who I am you can recognize the greatest hero of our time? Not that it matters if he's here someone will be along to arrest me soon."
"What about me?" Came the squeaked response.
"I doubt you'll live that long." Energy raced across the room causing the nameless hero in wet spandex to spasm violently before continuing to twitch on the floor. "Ahh I can hear the sirens now, I suppose it's time for us to go.back to our respective prisons. How are they treating you in the new home?"
"Oh the staff aren't too bad. The food's a bit lacking but it'll do."
"I'll have someone get that all set right for you." | 2017-04-13T05:17:22 | 2017-04-13T04:36:58 | 97 | 71 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | “I have summoned and bound you, demon! You will listen and obey.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you say, boss.” Michael tried to make out some features of whatever was talking but it was obscured by a dark, heavy robe complete with a hood. “I do whatcha ask and then you send me back. You’ll send me home, right?”
“I am the master here! I will say when you go.”
“Well that’s not fair. Not fair at all. I was just sitting, drinking a beer after work and poof. I’m here. I didn’t know I could even poof. And hell, you didn’t even poof my beer. I would appreciate a beer after being poofed.”
“You will spoke when spoken to!”
“Ah, to hell with this.” Michael took a step but hit something that felt like cling wrap pulled off leftovers heated in a microwave. It was uncomfortably warm but not hot enough to burn.
“My wards bind you! I am the master here. I am your master.”
“I said, to hell with this!” He dropped his shoulder, braced and pushed forward. The cling wrap stuck to him but it snapped in a moment. He grabbed the robed figure by the collar and picked it up, a little shocked by how light it was.
“The wards. The books said they’d work. The wards, they can’t be broken. The wards...”
“Knock it off,” Michael roared. He pulled its hood down. “Well, you ain’t nothing but I child. I mean, you an ugly child, but just a child.”
“I am no such thing. I am Olassin, head of House Olazuim, the third of his name. I have ruled for two decades and brought my house fortune and fame.”
“Forturne and fame huh?” Michael sniggered. “You think I’m a demon. And moreso, you meant to bring me here. Folks doing well don’t need to seek out demons.”
Olassin shuffled its feet. It opened its mouth and then closed it again, dropping its gaze to the floor.
“That’s what I thought.” Michael put the little child-man down and asked, “You can poof me back here any time, right?”
Olassin nodded.
Michael let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to fix your problem, whatever it is, and in return, you send me home and never poof me again. Agreed?”
Olassin nodded, a grin suddenly on its face.
“But first, you gonna poof my beer for me. I’m gonna need it to get through this crap.”
edit: typo | "Shit shit shit" I said under my breath as I raced down the sidewalk towards the bus. It was raining and all I could do was hold my unopened umbrella above my head as I ran. It obviously didn't help, so when I finally reached the bus stop panting and ready to fall over I was completely soaked through.
The bus doors were already closing when I reached it, but being desperate I managed to jam my umbrella between the gap in the doors before they closed. The door creaked rather loudly and the driver looked at me as if I were a fucking lunatic. I was still trying to catch my breath and very late so being crazy was the least of my problems.
After a moment the driver grudgingly opened the doors once more. I gave him a small 'thank you' between gasps, but he just glared at me at motioned for me to take my seat.
I sat down next to an elderly man listening to something on an old Walkman. He didn't pay me any attention, but continued to hum what sounded like dream lover.
I pulled off my glasses and began to wipe away the rainwater as I muttered a thanks to whatever god cared enough to receive it for making it on the bus in time. I had only just started my new job and the boss was as stoic as they come, so I really couldn't afford to be late. It hadn't taken long enough to get the damn job, anyway.
Of course I'll probably never be able keep that job now. Not with what happened about five minutes into the bus journey. One minute I was looking out to the passing storefronts with the old man now humming some blues tune and the next I had collapsed onto a hardwood floor in a room where everything was dim and smelled of old books and damp.
Managing to left my head up and put my now bent glasses back on, I saw that I was now in what looked like a attic. There were towers of books everywhere.
Getting myself into a sitting position I noticed I was surrounded by what looked like candles. There were five of them and they were all black and arranged in a circle around me. There were white trails on the floor connecting the candles. It looked like paint and as I inspected the pattern I noticed it formed a star. Frowning I looked up and nearly had a heart attack. There in front of the point of the star stood an old man in what looked like a long and dark robe. He stood perfectly still with a rather heavy looking book held open in front of him in his hands. He was smiling, or rather he was smiling at me. That's when I felt a tendril of fear run up along my spine. I backed away, my heart now begining to beat very quickly as the old man smiled at me. I hit a wall and I couldn't move any further. Looking back I saw there was no wall, but for some reason the area just before the candle was solid and I could not move past it. That's when the old man spoke.
"That's a barrier around you, demon. You cannot move beyond it" he said, his voice deep and grave. He looked pleased with himself. Utterly confused, I gulped and tried to speak.
"Ugh... who..who are you?" I stuttered. I had meant for it to come out more level, but I had so many questions and scenarios running through my head I guess it couldn't be helped.
"I am Lord Alsen Bodyth of the mage council, but you may call me master, demon" he proclaimed, sounding very proud.
I frowned. "De..demon?"
"Yes, but not just any demon. You're my demon" he pointed out, now grinning. That creeped me the fuck out, but all I could do was give a shaky laugh and say
"But... I.. I'm not a... demon" I wasn't entirely sure of what he was talking about, but I didn't liked it.
He gave me an understanding look and a nod "yes, yes, that's what they all say, but believe me demon, demon you are. I would know. I summoned you myself from the hell plain..." He looked down to his book for a moment searching for the name. Then having found it he looked back up and, still smiling, said "... Earth"
| 2017-05-12T08:18:29 | 2017-05-12T07:07:38 | 617 | 193 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "You see it? That is what I crave. The Rajpank of Avoothenkor."
"That's what you want? That's why I'm here?"
"With that I could rule this World. But I cannot have it, for it is not mine."
"So there's guards, cameras, lasers? What's the deal?"
"I don't understand."
"What's guarding it? You know, the security? I don't want to get roughed up or arrested or anything." I could see his confusion. "What's to stop you taking it?"
"I cannot take it. It is not mine."
Was that anger in his voice? They're all so weird and calm around here I just didn't know.
I stepped forward. Nothing. Looked around, reached out a hand, another look. What the fuck is up with this place? I passed the rock to my new friend.
"There you go."
"How did you do that?"
"Like this" I grabbed the rock from him, tossed it in the air a couple of times and then passed it back.
"God forgive me. What Stygian power is this? By what demonic force, by what heaven banished treachery do you control the fates of man and mete out of this global dominion with the ease and abandon of a careless god? What have I done? Have I gained so much and lost myself? No, their praise shall be my balm and my power the tonic to ease the pains of my troubled soul."
"Well, good luck with that and everything, but this place is freaking me out. When can you send me back? You said you'd send me back when we were done."
"Yes. But I may have need of your powers in the future. Here, take this as a sign of my gratitude." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small round orange object and handed it to me.
With a faint pop I was back at Cheryl's retirement party. Steve noticed me appear in a corner. "Hey," he asked, "where'd you get that orange?" | It felt like I had tripped up some stairs. For a second I thought I had, and immediately froze. The plate in my hand still held the Reuben, but the surface beneath.....
My head snapped up, and I noticed the darkness first. Second were the candles, placed carefully around me in hexagons expanding away from me. Low-level bands of light etched out the writing between the tiers, though none of it looked like a language I could place. The floor, instead of the carpeted stairs I had been climbing, was an old wood, stained with neglect, and riddled with gaps and protruding nails. One was digging into my hand, and as I lifted it I realized the nail was rough, as if hand-forged.
My analysis of the floor was disrupted by a heavy thud, just beyond the candles.
"Stay where you are, demon!"
"What?" I rose, still holding the plate.
A figure was just visible in the room, which I now saw was small, and claustrophobic. A low work-bench dominated a wall, scattered with shapes that I could only just spot in the candle-light. A window was open, but I couldn't feel a breeze. The figure, which seemed to be rather.... short, was doing its best at a power pose, and failing.
"I said stay where you are!"
"Nah, I got that. What's with the demon? Is that some kind of racist term I'm not aware of?"
"What?"
"What?"
The figure shook its head. "Look, you are a demon, you have to be! I summoned you, with a demon summoning, so you have to be a demon! That's how this works!"
I tried to step forward, collided against something. Something hard. "The fuck!?"
"Ahah, see! That barrier holds in demons! And you're a demon!"
"Oh yeah? Have you tried to pass through this?" Hard as rock, my finger tips told me.
"I don't have to prove it works. It won't, because I'm not a demon!" He even stamped his foot. Adorable.
I had had enough. I shifted my sandwich to my other hand, and hefted the plate. Middle school track, don't fail me now. The plate landed with a soft thud three feet to the left of the figure. Almost as if...
"How old even are you?" I asked, leaning against the barrier and taking a bite of my sandwich.
The figure flinched. "N- not you- hush, you demon!"
"Sooooooo, eight, then?" I glanced over at the figure. Definitely too immature to be an adult. I turned my back on him, and took another bite. "Is this your bedroom? Why do you even want a demon? What are demons supposed to do?"
"I- I said hush!"
"Uh huh. You getting bullied in school?"
"I SAID HUSH!"
My feet skidded across the floor as if I had been shoved. Before I could regain my slouch the walls slammed into me, pinning my sandwich to my thigh, my other arm across my chest. "Wha-"
"I have summoned you, demon, from your Earthly dimension, to aid me in a task!"
The walls were crushing me, and I gave a tiny whimper in response.
"You are to use your dark powers to kill the President, Tonald Drump!" | 2017-05-12T09:20:50 | 2017-05-12T08:05:41 | 99 | 10 |
[WP] You never kill the spiders in your home, you just whisper "today you, tomorrow me" when you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back. | It had all come down to this. I stand upon this roof top silently contemplating my life. I had always been the compassionate type. Each day I made as many selfless acts as possible. I don't like to see anyone or anything struggle. I am the type of person that always gave away my spare change, helped elderly women across the street, and even things most people wouldn't blink about like setting spiders outside instead of killing them.
I had spent my life helping the helpless. Maybe because I knew what it was like to be helpless. There was no good reason why I was depressed. I had a fairly normal childhood. Nothing stands out that could've potentially lead to my depression. None of that really mattered anyway. I've grown tired of trying to help those around me, because every time I begin to feel as if I'd made an impact, I realize the world is just as desolate as before. I've never felt amy sense of purpose or belonging. In my eyes, all the caring I've done never amounted to anything in my life. My last wish is that my impact is remembered by somebody, anybody.
I feel a cold rush of air overcome my senses. It fills my nostrils, makes my eyes water, whistles through my ear, sends shivers across my skin and violently thrashes my long unkept hair. I have no time to think, it doesn't feel fast or slow it just kind of happens. As I begin to realize the gravity of the situation I collide with something.
I yelp, shortly before realizing that I feel no pain. For a brief moment I am going upwards until I come down and fall delicately into what appears to a large tightly woven spider web! The crescent moon lighting allows me to barely make out, that I am about ten feet above the ground. Slowly I see hundreds, maybe more, spiders come into focus. From all angles I see eightfold eyes staring back at me, and then they begin to move in a flurry of excitement, Quickly they disperse leaving a small area clear and obvious. Spelled out a lá Charlotte's Web, I make out the words, "Today you, tomorrow me."
It turns out that all of these years someone remembered all that I had done. | "Tell me where it is!"
"I don't know! I don't know!", I cried as I got another kick in the gut, protected by nothing but the rope the chackled me with.
Apparently, the thing they want from me is a valuable jem hidden somewhere in my house. I thought the previous owner was shady, but who'd think he worked for mafia! He probably took it with him when he moved, and sold the house for cheap so a blockhead like me would get beaten for him.
"Boss, I think he's the wrong guy." One of the thugs started to doubt.
"He's the one. The adress is right, and Mike would never lie to me."
Guess, it's my unlucky day.
"But you're right. Burn this place to the ground. We're getting out of here."
It definetly is.
"I told you he sold the house and ran away with the jem!", I cried as my last attempt to survive.
"We know. We were just checking if that were true. But now, you know too much. So... We have no choice." Finished toying with me, he exited the room; his minions started to spill gasoline; and I lost it.
"Is this the end?" I murmured to myself. "Will I die like this? Because of a misunderstanding!? Toasted in my new house!?"
I heard a quick "chick", and saw a burning match falling on the floor. The room lighted bright red, and the two black silhouettes locked the door from the other side. Now I'm doomed.
Surprisingly for me, the two silhouettes weren't the last black I saw in my life. From every angle, I could see black goo stretching across the room. It seemed intelligent as it opened the door, the window, and the knocked down furniture in such a way that it blocked the fire from soreding on me. Then, I felt lots of tiny bumps under me, and the room started moving. No, it's me! I'm moving! That's where I understood what the black goo is.
You see, from the small age, I learned not to harm a living thing. Every life is sacred, and even the smallest bug has a soul. So my whole life I was letting them outside, carefully taking them in my hands and putting them on the nearest bush. Later, mom told me to whisper "Today you, tomorrow me", and one day they will come to save me. But not that literally!!!
The bugs lifted me up from the ground and carried to the window. Then, using their super-strength, they tossed my huge body a meter to the air right through the window into the hands of a swarm of flies and mosquitos I've let feast on me and my food; before I could realise it, the flying mosquito matress put me safely on the ground and bit my ropes off.
Now I was witnessing the hellish furnace that was just my room, and my savior coming out of it in the face of black goo spilling down every crack on the street.
One day later, I was back at my old place, happy that I didn't tale everything with me to be burned with the new house. I turn on the TV and see my face on the screen. "One man turned down the largest crime organisation in the city". For this act, I received compensation for the damage, and then some for the organisation. With so much money, I couldn't think of anything better to fo than to donate them to the animal saving groupes. Especially insect ones. They deserve a thanks.
_______________________________
Sorry for any mistakes, was writing it on a bumpy ride. | 2017-08-27T22:49:17 | 2017-08-27T22:41:33 | 392 | 56 |
[WP] The world's tiniest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it. | In a time when knights and dragons played a deadly version of capture the horde, only the elite dragons managed to protect theirs. One such dragon was Squeak-Squeak, the smallest dragon. Squeak-Squeak’s horde may not have been giant and filled with rubies or pearls, but he was proud of it all the same. He owned a single gold coin he had gotten from his mother.
While most dragons protected their horde with their flaming breath or fearsome claws, Squeak-Squeak had the greatest power of all: cuteness. He had a simple yet extremely effect way of dealing with knights. First, he would look as cute as possible. His favorite way was to peer over the top of his coin with his tail curling over the bottom. If the knight continued to steal his coin, he would let his eyes fill up with tears and began squeaking loudly. At this point one of two things would happen. Most often the knight would give the coin back to a then happily squeaking Squeak-Squeak. However, if the knight tried to leave with it, he would soon be a pile of ash.
Now, you may be wondering: how does he use cuteness in the second way? Simple, so far I’ve only told you about the smallest dragon and his horde. A much larger dragon was always lurking nearby. You see, this dragon was his mother and Squeak-Squeak was HER horde. Between the two of them, no knight ever managed to steal their hordes.
| Jasper flew up from the park with a rush of excitement, A small golden coin clutched between his two miniature claws. He had finally claimed a prize from those pesky humans.
Unlike his counterparts, Jasper’s unusual size allowed him to fly into the city reasonably undetected. He would find a flock of like-minded pigeons, united in their search for scraps. The scales and feathers would fly artfully, gliding over and under electrical wires, circling traffic lights and catching the airflow from the subway, heading for the humans’ favourite picnic spots. From there they would sit, wait and glare impetuously at the lunching crowds. When the baskets closed and the mats were folded, the flock would move in, relentlessly scavenging for every edible morsel in range. Unknown to his new friends, however, was that Jasper had no aspirations for breadcrumbs.
On this day, something different caught the little dragon’s eyes. A young family had just started on their way while the pigeons had moved in to scavenge whatever was left behind. Jasper, on other hand, stayed with the family, inconspicuously following them through the flock of pigeons. A small and vulnerable toddler ambled a short distance behind her parents, glaring inquisitively at something in her hands. Jasper shared her curiosity. When a ray of light illuminated a golden medallion, the small creature wasted no time. He jumped up, spread his lettuce-sized wings and dive-bombed the unsuspecting toddler from behind, snatching the shiny circle into his tiny claws.
After making it only a few hundred yards, Jasper set down in the vacated nest of a hollow tree, his modest hoard intact. He set it down in front of his small snout and began to study the eye-catching prize. It was meticulously detailed with incomprehensible etchings lining the circumference, encircling what-looked like a well-groomed human. Jasper was delighted with his valuable finding. He had proved his competence. The other dragons could no longer mock his stature.
Suddenly a pattering of tiny feet peppered the grass at the base of the tree. The little dragon froze in his cosy new lair, surprised to see the inquisitive young eyes of his victim reappear. After affirming the toddler’s identity as the one he did indeed rob, Jasper’s attention snapped back to his golden prize. Nothing was there. Alarmed, the petite creature scrambled about the nest, sending a black cloud of dust and bark flying through the small opening in the tree. Eventually, the aspirational dragon resigned himself to the loss and brought his gaze accusingly upon the toddler.
There, in the small sausage fingers of his victim stood the dragon’s ill-gotten winnings. With a seamless pinch of the nails, the toddler removed the shiny gold coating of the coil to reveal a mysterious brown disk. The half-human took a miniature bite out of it, grinned and handed the remainder to Jasper.
“For you. It’s tasty!”
| 2017-09-07T13:15:56 | 2017-09-07T12:19:27 | 44 | 30 |
[WP] Earth gets into an intergalactic battle with aliens. They seem invincible to everything we do until we find their weakness, cheap foam and plastic. So in this war, it's Nerf or nothing. | They crushed us on the land and ocean, they where invincible in space and in the air. The aliens where terrifying, completely immune to all weapons actively used in the Earth's military combined.
"Docking alien ship in 5 seconds"
But with the discovery of the weakness all that changed.
"4 seconds"
The aliens seeming to have factumest autemtercore reactions to foam and the soft plastic used in nerf bullets
"3 seconds"
has changed the face of this war for ever
"2 seconds"
And come to mean
"Boarding now"
I turn to face my comrades, and nod.
Humanities' battle cry "It's nerf or nothing" fills the hull of the Alien ship.
Electronic motors hum and the sound of Slamfiring is so loud you can practically feel it. It's over in minutes, the Aliens are all dead.
A small victory but a signal for what is to come. | "Launch ready, aye, condition STATUS QUO 1, Tube Twelve," came the final reply by the Lieutenant over the phone to Captain Keef.
"Weapons Con you have permission to fire," replied Keef from his station. He braced himself against the console. He knew the problem of missiles pushing back against the ship was solved years ago and that he didn't have to brace anymore, but unlike the younger men and women aboard he was too used to the reflex to bother kicking it, and as Captain he didn't have to give an excuse.
"Initiating fire," replied Weapons Con in its robotic tone. Its display array began flipping colors, readiness indicators going dark as the weapon was sent away.
Along the missile bank at the edge of the ship, one opened to the vacuum. A matte-black prism the size of an asteroid gently eased itself out on ion jets. Several kilometers later it began to spin, orienting itself towards its singular cardinal direction before ultimately accelerating towards the enemy at hundreds of thousands of kilometers per hour.
"Twelve away..." came the confirmation, accompanied by a single indicator for tube twelve changing from "MSL 1SQ" to "AWAY".
"Weapons Con, permission to fire is removed," replied the Captain. He let go of the console. There was nothing left to do but wait.
____
The Weapon arrived in Grovinian space in record time abetted by its singular, massive size. It would be moving too fast for the enemy defense grid to notice, and by the time their response ships were within range the Weapon had already begun to unleash its payload.
It folded itself open, dissolving into a gigaton cloud of plastic shrapnel. What was once the refuse of Earth accelerated to lethal speeds and expanded in all directions with mindless, virulent abandon. Lacking both protection and warning, the Grovinian Home Armada took the brunt of the man-made storm by surprise. Mylar-coated garbage like a million false stars scrambled guidance computers while the razor-like flechettes of clamshell packaging punctured solar arrays. Multiple reentry vehicles packed with clots of shampoo micro beads, six-pack rings, and polar fleece fibers sailed past the crippled fleet headed towards the great oceans of Grov.
Somewhere planetside a few Grovinians living in the dusk were treated to an unexpected meteor shower. | 2017-11-11T05:07:41 | 2017-11-10T22:53:22 | 73 | 42 |
[WP] You've always felt the wildlife on the tour were just a little bit too docile and the whole thing felt staged. You had no solid proof, until you've accidentally snagged a video of a tour guide splitting his tips with a gorilla. | I had barely pressed the crisp bills into Koko's hands when the shout came over the hedges.
"Oi! I saw that! I bloody saw that!"
The voice was unmistakable, and it did to my spirits what stepping into a mound of fresh elephant dung would have done. Koko tensed up immediately, and the bills disappeared behind her quicker than I could have said *Jumanji*. My fingers flashed as I signed to her to stay out of this.
*Let me handle it*, I signed.
*Shall I beat him up?* she signed back. *I can do it quick, before any of the others-*
*No beating up the tourists!* I signed.
Mr Humly stalked up to me, his wife and children tottering behind him. He thrust an accusatory finger into my chest. This close to him, I could smell the sour tobacco that wafted wherever he went, like a personal cloud.
"I knew you were cheating us, you scumbag," he said. His teeth were clenched, his brows in a twist. Classic signs of aggression.
"Hold on, hold on. There's not been any cheating here. I don't know what you're talking about."
"No cheating? We signed up for an authentic safari experience! Not this... This crummy, shitarse tour you've been giving us! Why are all the lions so tame! Why are all the apes so docile! Where are the goddamned warring rhinos you promised us?"
*The hell he's talking about?* Koko signed. *The rhinos never fight. Jamoo and Jabeel are best friends, FFS.*
*Shh, he's just angry now.*
*Give him a banana then.*
"And there's the proof!" Mr Humly continued. "You're all in cahoots! This is all staged! The animals are all just... Two-bit circus attractions! Paid off charlatans!"
"Harold, please," his wife said, hand pulling back on his sleeve. "Let's just go, you're scaring the children."
"No, I won't go, Susie! We signed up for an *authentic* safari tour, and we're not leaving till we get what we paid for!"
*You want me to beat him now? Chop chop?*
I ignored Koko, then turned to face Mr Humly directly.
"Sir, if you must know, this was all done for your own safety. Our customers don't *really* want the full experience of what it's like to live in the wild with these animals."
"Don't tell me what I want or don't want! I've trained in combat survival, I'll have you know! I bet I can survive out here better than a lying tour guide like yourself!"
I sighed. "Fine, I'll upgrade your tour package for you then. To our highest tier, free of charge. You'll just have to sign *these* indemnity forms here, OK?"
Koko snorted as Mr Humly tended to the paperwork. I knew she was already preparing for the anticipated windfall.
*Same incentives apply?* she signed.
*I guess...*
*Extra ten dollars for every scream we get out of them?*
I nodded, and Koko leapt away, no doubt to let her brethren know first. I couldn't blame her - the rest of the safari were pretty damn competitive, especially the giraffes. It was always the tamest looking ones.
"So, what's this highest tier of the package called?" asked Mr Humly, as he posed for a selfie with his family. The smugness had settled over his face as surely as the real African sunset. "Gotta let all our friends on Instagram know that we had the true experience here!"
I smiled as I led him back to our jeep.
"The *Lord of the Flies* package, my dear sir."
---
/r/rarelyfunny | The muted twang of a touchpad mouse spring rings out once more, and I remove one earbuds, turning my head back to see my wife, Carol sound asleep on the right side of our double bed. In the single next to her, little Susie drools on the stuffed monkey clutched firmly to her dressed. The only sound is of the air conditioner whirring.
In my left ear I hear Carol laugh, and I press the other earbud back in and flip my eyes back to the screen in front of me.
We're in the tour truck - plodding slowly along through the park, the seats rattling and juddering over small bumps, Susie pointing out toward the animals and Carol bouncing her on her knee next to me. We're surrounded by pasty couples and excited children, a tour guide sitting at the front of the truck reels off factoids from behind reflective shades, the driver steering with one hands resting gently on the bottom of the wheel, his opposite hanging losely over the driver-side door.
"So we're approaching the Gorillas now, everybody excited?"
"Yeah!" Comes a chorus in response, Susie's cry coming up the loudest and I hear myself laugh from behind the camera, turning to point it at my daughter and my wife, who tries to lean back out of sight.
"You excited for the monkeys Suse?" I hear myself ask.
"Gorillas! Silly." She replies, indignant, and Carol looks at me behind the camera.
"Silly." Carol giggles.
"My mistake." Off camera I can hear the gates opening, and the truck is cast under a canopy of shadow as we enter the gorilla enclosure. "We're here!"
Susie bounces in her mother's lap, keeping look out for the Gorillas.
"Calm down Suse." Carol pokes gently at her sides. "You know they won't show up here, there'll be at the clearing won't they?"
"Yeah!" Susie shouts, continuing to look around erratically.
"Bit boring they're always in the same place isn't it?" I say, as the camera pans across the trees above us, taking in the greenery.
"More exciting than not seeing anything is it?" Carol replies.
"Still. Not very Gorilla-y."
I can hear Carol laugh, and begin muttering to our daughter about how silly her father is.
Back in our room, I turn back for another check on the girls. Both still asleep, Carol's kicked off her covers and turned over to face Susie. She lets out a little snore, then flips back over to be silent.
I trace my finger carefully over the trackpad and reach for the bar at the bottom of the screen, clicking along a little bit until I see the shakey footage of the clearing, the Gorillas lounging around, some banging their chests as the truck rolls past. Susie and Carol exchange 'Wows!', as the tour guide explains the way in which the Gorillas groom each other, just as one seats itself in front of another for a cleaning.
Hang on.
I skip back.
In the bottom right of the screen I see the two Gorillas that engage in the grooming, the groomer sitting bored on a rock and the groomee messing in the dirt a few feet behind her. The audio guide keeps talking, rattling off the script I've heard twice before.
"So how do Gorillas keep clean? Well, they do something that we like to call grooming."
I wait another five seconds and snap pause the screen. The grooming pair has drifted (with my uneven framing) to the top right of the screen. I go back, rewatch.
Snap pause again.
When the guide says grooming, the groomee stands up front behind the Groomer and heads toward them, tapping them on the back as they reach them, swinging around in front and sitting themselves down. The groomer jumps, waking up from a day dream, hurriedly rushing to start grooming the one who just sauntered over.
The timing... it couldn't be... rehearsed?
I press play, letting myself jump back to the task at hand; watching absently as the tape progresses, the image of the grooming Gorillas lingering at the back of the mind. As the tape nears it's end, the image dissipates and I learn in close to the screen; focusing on the top left where, in a closing sweep, the image of a park attendant and a Gorilla will appear.
As my pan hits them, I freeze the screen, and sliding my hand over to the arrow keys proceed to run through frame by frame.
An attendant approaches a Gorilla.
The Gorilla stands, and walks over.
The Attendant reaches into his pocket and pulls out some crumpled notes.
They both exchange hands, forming a brief handshake.
The gorilla rests it's free hand on the attendants arm, before turning around and walking back to its original post.
The attendant turns too, adjusting his cap to obscure his face, placing his hands into jacket pockets and strolling out of the clearing. As he goes, his cap twitches down, in what looks like a slight nod.
I slow my presses, lingering three seconds or more on each frame, and I gulp. I might just be right.
One of the grooming Gorillas, the one not walking back to its original post, nods back. | 2018-02-25T17:27:14 | 2018-02-25T17:21:11 | 1,084 | 89 |
[WP] Once upon a time, aliens sent a virulent poison to Earth in hopes of clearing the planet for their own habitation. Hundreds of years later, they're back, and shocked that we're not only alive, but actually are eating/drinking their poison en masse. | We were running out of time. Our constantly growing population had created such a need for resources that we were forced to look for a new home.
Our scouts found a primitive planet in a small system that seemed perfect for our needs. The only problem was that the planet was inhabited by a primitive race of bipedals. They actually did not look very different from us! However, we knew they would not let us have the planet willingly.
So we seeded the planet with the most poisonous plant we knew. It was so poisonus to us, we did not even have a name for it, simply calling it that-which-must-not-be-eaten. It was a small plant, growing a tuber in the earth, with only some green parts visible above ground. It did look kind of edible, Consuming the tuber caused all kinds of medical problems for us. A bite alone was enough to make our intestines bleed, any more and it was nearly instantly lethal. Our plan could not fail with a plant that deadly!
After we seeded the planet with the deadly plant, we occasionally checked back in. Still, we found the bipeds, humans they called themselves, were still alive. Something must have gone wrong.
This is where I come in. I am Zolan Zefix, a undercover scout for the Royal Empire of our people! As we looked so much alike and the conditions of the planet allowed a life without any kind of life support systems, I was sent to the planet to infiltrate the humans and find out what happened.
The infiltration went off without a hitch. No one suspects that I am not a human. I even successfully formed a bond with one of the female humans, pretending to be her 'boyfriend', as that is what they call the male parts of their relationships before they mate for life.
However, I had not yet found out what happened to the plant.
Today, my 'girlfriend' would take me to meet her parents for a shared meal. I was a bit nervous as some of the food I have had on this planet has wreaked havoc on my digestive tract, but I was sure it'd just take some getting used to.
When I met her parents, everything seemed to go well at first. I asked them what kind of food they had prepared, eager to learn more about these still relatively primitive humans. 'Oh, beef and baked potatoes.', they told me.
Beef, I knew. It was some kind of herd animal that they grew specifically to consume.
However 'potatoes' I had not heard of before.
'Interesting' I said, 'what are potatoes?'
They looked at me like I had grown a second head. I quickly checked myself as there had been a few documented cases of that happening to our species, but alas, no second head.
'Why are you looking at me like that? I have never heard of these... potatoes.'
Her father asked me, his face showing his disbelief, 'Son, do you truly not know what a potato is? Everyone knows what a potato is!'
'I'm afraid I do not know.' was my reply.
'I can't believe this!' was her mother's reaction. She went into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of... Oh, by all that is holy, NO!!!
These savages are EATING the deadliest plant known to our species and acting like it was nothing! What kind of monsters are these beings?! | Life adapts to survive. Trying to destroy all life in existence is futile- in *some* corner of the world, deep within some forgotten ocean vent or kilometers under the soil, life will march on. And eventually, the weapon against it will become its greatest asset.
Take the cockroach- from eons of persecution, it has developed a strong exoskeleton, a near independence from air, and an instinct for self preservation. Without its head, it can live for a week. In radiation, it survives indefinitely.
And we, humans, are the cockroaches of the universe.
"The debate of whether a virus is alive or dead has long been contested," I remember my biology teacher saying in high school. That was centuries ago, back when cell immortality was just in its early stages, and half of humans being born would still die from natural causes. Back in the second millennia. But the image of a virus on the projector is still burned in my memory, along with my teacher's words. "Simply by breaking it into components, its fairly obvious that the virus resembles more machine than microbial life. It exhibits the traits of life- reproduction, it evolves, et cetera et cetera. But it practically appears designed, with parts. As if it were made with an intent in mind."
And decades later, we discovered that it *had* been made for a purpose. To exterminate us.
Samples from the asteroid that had crashed to earth carrying the first virus were unearthed in 2067- except it wasn't an asteroid, it was a container filled with the ancestors of the modern virus. The next few decades were spent tracing the virus to it's origination light years away, the alien society that had bombarded our planet along with countless others with a contagion designed to destroy all life. Unfortunately for them, it worked too well. And now their planet is a husk, destroyed by their own invention.
But their weapon lives on. Every year it continues to evolve, to threaten our very existence. And from the corpses left behind by its creators, we know its only a matter of time. That no matter how fast we run, eventually it will catch us. That no technology designed so far has been able to destroy it. That no technology likely ever will. The best we can do is escape.
In 2100, advances in nanobot medicine staved off viruses for a few years. But they eventually grew stronger, killing off a third of the earth before doctors could properly retaliate. These same nanobots keep me alive now, as part of the first human generation to ever far outstrip a hundred years of age.
In 2502, the first teleportation device was invented, one that stripped humans down molecule by molecule and rebuilt them at a distance. And in 2510, a brilliant Martian scientist realized a filter could be applied to the device to scrub out all virus life. That year, he won three Nobel prizes- for physics, medicine, and peace. And for a while, it worked. Humans fled the solar system, reaching the far inhabitable corners of the galaxy.
But it only took one error for a virus to arrive on distant worlds, one unchecked shipment of goods too expensive to teleport, one faster than light traveler that bore the disease and contaminated an entire planet. One by one the worlds fell, the ancient weapon catching up to them. Destroying them millions of years after it arrived on Earth.
I've watched them fall, I've watched immortal friends die to plague. And I've realized that there is only one escape left, one place that the virus will never reach. A place beyond even our own touch, until I adapted to survive.
I developed the next generation teleportation device to do something never before achieved- to deconstruct human's matter molecules, and rebuild them in antimatter. I've targeted distant worlds in galaxies previously deadly due to their antimatter composition. And with this device, I've made the grand escape. Humanity has evolved.
One by one, we reconstructed ourselves in antimatter while filtering away the virus. We bade farewell to a tainted earth. And we rebuilt civilization in a place where the very properties of physics prevent the virus from following.
Today, I turn a thousand years old. And today, in my antimatter body, I no longer run from death. But without the virus, we would never have reached this world.
***
By Leo
This prompt response is similar to another prompt I’ve answered, [The Bridge](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4uuvir/wp_after_almost_1000_years_the_population_of_a/d5t4uu1/?utm_content=permalink&utm_medium=front&utm_source=reddit&utm_name=WritingPrompts)
| 2018-05-16T23:31:55 | 2018-05-16T20:08:03 | 653 | 237 |
[WP]: Your little crime family ran a restaurant as a money laundering front. However, the place got so popular, you decided to quit the crime and just run the place straight. Now, a new crime organisation is trying to inch into town, on your turf. It's time to get back to business. | The room was dark, and full of frowns.
My dad, bald as he was, scarred as he was, couldn't stop pacing from wall to wall, shaking his head, grimacing, clenching his fists. "I'm telling you, it's time to get back to business. We can't allow another organization to come and steal what we took so long to build."
My mom, who was sitting on a chair with her legs crossed, and smoking a cigarette, said, "A bomb or two. Boom. Our problems are gone and smoked, reduced to morsels if you wish."
"I know their son. He goes to my school," my sister said, still wearing her backpack. "I can...bring him here. A gap, a rope, a note, and we would have them eating from our palms."
"Exactly!" I said. "Hit them where it hurts."
Silent, my grandfather leaned against the wall, still clad in the restaurant's outfit. He had a wide smile carved on his face, as though our words were amusing to him. It made sense, he built our empire, he was the well of knowledge of the family. Our ideas were no different than those from movies. Reality was not a movie, and he knew it better than any of us.
"I still think a bomb is the quicker w—"
"It's too messy. We should kidnap his son—"
"They will know who we are! That can be dangero—"
"Since when do we care about dang—"
And just like that, the conversation dissolved into a mess of shouts and curses, raised hands, and pantomimes.
In the background, subtle as the whisper of the winds, the laughter of my grandfather melded with our discord.
"What are you laughing at?" My father shouted at my grandfather.
The old man shook his head, and pointed at his chest. "Look at the outfit. What do you see?"
We all went silent, looked at each other askance.
"The logo of our restaurant," I said.
My grandfather nodded. "You are forgetting something very important," he said, and clutched the outfit. "This right here brought us a lot more money than crime. What are they using as a laundering front?"
"A cinema."
"Give them a month, they will see the money and they will stop caring about crime. Now, stop with your silly conversations. We have to focus on what truly brings the money."
We looked at each other, and found ourselves at a loss for words. My grandfather walked to the door, and before leaving he said, "Sweetie, bring that boy to the restaurant. I think we could negotiate some sort of promotion with them. We can have the customers eat here, and before they leave we give them a free ticket to a movie. Or we can have the customers go to the cinema, and give them a discount to eat here with their ticket.
"Not everyone has to be our enemy, sometimes alliances is where the true golden pot rests. Besides, if the business starts to go wrong, we will have a profound knowledge about them. After all, they don't know our past, they don't know we used to be criminals, but we do know their present. And an unexpected attack is a deadly thing." He looked at us. "What's do I always say?"
"Keep your enemies close. Don't catch feelings. Kill them when needed."
"Don't forget that."
----------------------
r/NoahElowyn | We had a lanky fella dressed in all black that walked into the restaurant one day; he sat down with some other well-dressed gentleman four of them to be exact. I didn’t pay much attention to them as it was lunch hour and we were swamped with orders “Come on, get those orders out!” I yell at the chef Pierre, “I am working on it as fast I can!” He yells back in his French accent. The place hasn’t been this busy since the end of prohibition after we quit selling booze under the table, I couldn’t believe that we had a full house again.
I looked through the crowds of people sitting down enjoying their food when my eyes locked with that of the lanky fella. He held his hand up and made a gesture as if he was summoning me to come speak with him, I, being the owner went over to see if something was wrong, “Good evening fellas, anything I can help you with today?” I say while studying the men, they seemed shifty; their eyes seemed lifeless and cold. The lanky one spoke up with a strong southern accent “Howdy feller, me n’ my ‘partners’ here are just looking to get sum good ole’ home cooking, we been on the road fer days now it seems.” “Oh, a business trip?” I asked in a calm matter, “I reckon you could say that.” He gestures for me to come closer so I do; he leans in and said “Say buddy, my wallet is feelin’ heavy, I been workin’ so hard I forgot to spend to it.” I proceeded to look in confusion, something seemed amiss “Me and n’ the boys here are looking to set up a shop” He says in a hushed tone while panning the room “I think this place right here is where I want to set up.” I immediately cut him off with a vicious tone “This place is not for sale.” “Oh come on partner!” He says in a loud but friendly way “I can make it worth your while, listen, what’s your name friend?” “Amos” I say in an aggressive tone “Amos, friend, listen I respect your dream, you came here on the boat from whatever backwards country you came from and built a nice lil’ company but” he then proceeded to stand up, I quickly noticed he is about 6 inches taller than me “This ain’t no negotiated proposal , you either take the money, and leave” at this point he pulls his coat back and reveals he is carrying a handgun “Or we will take it.” I stand back and firmly say “Alright sir, meet us after closing hours.” “Perfect friend!” He says with a smile and sits back down “We will see you here after closing.”
Closing hours came swiftly, all the patrons left, I stood there waiting on the lanky man dressed all in black, and right on the dot as the clock turned 8 he and his associates walked through my doors. “Howdy Amos” He says with a smile standing in the door way, “I reckon we should get this over with and make us a good ole’ deal.” He proceeds to sit down while his associates stand behind him with their hands loosely to their side waiting for any given moment that I might retaliate. “You got that deed friend?” He says with a snarl, I proceed to hold it up and wave it in my hand, “Perfect he said let’s get this thang goin’ then.” He says this with joy and pride, “Wait now, hold on friend” I say panning the five men, watching their every move, the lanky fella’s face turns into a grimace “What?” He says angrily. Then, Windows shatter around the restaurant, blood immediately covers the lanky man turning his black suit into crimson red. The lanky man looks to his left and to his right so fast that he gave himself whiplash, “What in the goddamn hell!” He shouts as he stands up reaching for his handgun, but before he can draw another flurry of bullets smash through the already broken windows, striking him multiple times.
The lanky man lies on the floor dying, blood oozing from his body, glass and splinters all around him, he tries to speak but instead of words spats of blood come out. I approach him, slowly, as he knowns that I will be his grim reaper. He tries to lunge at me while crawling through the bits and pieces of glass and splinters that litter the floor; he makes it to my feet and begins to lunge at me, yet to no avail. I look into his dying eyes and remove his handgun from its holster and I put it against his temple and before I pull the trigger he spits blood into my face spitefully, to which I emptied the clip into his body.
I am new to this so any feedback helps. | 2019-04-17T08:28:31 | 2019-04-17T08:13:29 | 2,944 | 69 |
[WP] An ancient evil was awakened, but the morals and ethics of the world have changed in the last 10,000 years that the ancient evil is considered pretty moderate by the times standards | Each had cut themselves, and given freely of their blood to awaken him. They had constructed their alter, their monolith of ash and polar, and burnt it. They heaped the flesh of the lamb and bulls upon their pyre as the scent was pleasing to him. And finally they spoke the words and swore the oaths.
It was time, the stars had aligned, the omens were clear. It was time. And from the shadows of between the trees he coalesced and after an eon he was among them again, terrible and mighty. And we, my children prostrated ourselves before him, and pressed our faces into the dirt, weeping with joy and terror. And with his mouths he spoke with the will of one and the voice of many.
"I have come. I am now. Hear my gospel. Man shall marry man, and woman shall marry women and all shall lie freely with all as they will. You may no longer discipline your children with rod or hand. Your slaves do not belong to you, for you all belong to me. Heart and soul, flesh and blood, you are mine. You must not kneel to priest or king, save those who are chosen from among you and by you. All shall be held in common amongst you, so that my faithful may be fruitful and multiply. Heed my word. Do as I have commanded!"
His words pass through us and around us like the north wind. He had gone, to visit us in our dreams once more. And we stood, and shared the biscuits and the tea in common as our lord demanded, and we spoke of how weirdly reasonable the elder things were becoming. And we bemoaned, and harshly announced that it was anticlimactic, and we swore to do better things with our Monday evenings. And so it was. These were the final days of our religion. | I have been missing this feeling so much. That smell of deep satisfaction in the air, that disappointment and uncontrollable anger in their eyes, the look that gives away how powerless they feel. I don't remember the last time I made something truly evil. For thousands of years I have been trapped in this cave, listening how grizzled, skinny and completely worn out men were telling stories to they grandchildren about how their great grandfather once made them known that many years ago and awful being who possessed a power to emerge as anyone and anything would constantly visit their village and do the most dreadful things a person could imagine. Blah...blah...blah. Every time the stories got more and more wild and less and less reminded me of the truth. I hated the way these people were declaring how cursed I was not being able to understand that their lies were even more of a sin. And I hated that little boy who trapped me there. I hated that everybody thought I was asleep for ages when in fact I was too excited about their storytelling abilities to close my eyes even for a year. It got to the point that they were celebrating the day of my "defeat" annually. But all the things eventually come to an end, and today was the day. One tourist (yeah, they opened a national park because of me) decided to climb the cliff I was sitting in and because of his clumsy and life inappropriate nature turned the rocks over. That meant I was free! And I could finally do all the mean stuff I have planned for ages.
I decided to start right away. I turned into an exact copy of a clumsy tourist to, well, ruin his life. I took his keys, phone, and turned out it was enough to find where he lived and pay his wife and two kids a visit. "Today will be a fun day", I thought to myself with the widest grin on my face.
To give his wife a heart attack and scare the hell out of his kids I decided to make some minor fashion changes. I ripped his pants, teared his shirt apart, put on a fur of a dead fox that was lying in my cave, and covered myself in all the golden chains, branches and stones I could find nearby. Completely destroying my hair on my way I knocked on his door.
"Jason, you finally took a look into that magazine I told you about!" she gasped, hugging me tightly. His kids seemed to enjoy this one, too. Well, this family had quite a fashion sense. I decided to take them by storm by doing all the mean things to everyone.
At first I taught the boy how to build a tall tower of his blocks and then destroyed it. Later I nearly drowned the girl in a hot water filled with all ugly and scary things I could find in these room turning the water into hundreds of different colors. My final accord and the culmination of my evil doings was I cooked the most disgusting dinner instead of his wife to completely knock her off by doubting her ability to cook.
As we all sat to taste this ugly looking dish, my, I mean, his wife pronounced:" What's happened to you, Josh? You got into fashion, you played with our son, you gave a spa treatment to our daughter and cooked the most incredible meal for all the family?" | 2019-09-16T10:35:44 | 2019-09-16T10:33:41 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] You died. Death is boring, a blank black nothing. After a while, boredom sets in. As a joke you shout, "Let there be light!" And suddenly, there was Light. | I wonder how long I have been here.
Too long.
I can't seem to remember much about my life.
I can't seem to remember what life is like.
What is life?
What am I?
Who am I?
I can see my body, fleshy pink, odd shapes and sizes extending from the middle.
I need something.
Someone.
Anyone.
Everyone.
I need to see.
"Let there be light!"
A ball of light, a red rock, a green rock, many others of different magnitudes.
The green one looks beautiful.
I made them.
I will make someone like me.
But not like me.
Simpler.
Unburdened.
I will make them to make more.
They will love me.
I will love them.
They can't see me.
One day they will.
That's the plan.
My plan.
I will start with one.
I will name him Adam.
I will teach him.
He needs to listen.
He needs to listen to me.
I will tempt him.
He needs to listen.
I have made more things.
They will tempt him.
He needs to listen.
.
.
.
He didn't listen.
I wonder how long I have been here. | Well crap. Im dead. Isnt that fun. Weeeeeee! Void! I love this! This is so much fun floating around in nothingness!
Okay. This is painfully boring. What am i supposed to do? Am i stuck like this for eternity? Do i get reincarnated at some point? Could i at least watch what's going on back home?
Ugh. This is so very stupid. I don't like this. I need to find a way to pass the infinite time.
"LET THERE BE LIGHT!" Gotta do somthing I guess.
Suddenly, upon my shout, light flooded into my realm. Stars formed in front of my eyes, and what looked like the beginning of planets also appeared. It was almost too bright for my eyes to handle. No way. Is this real?
I have to be dreaming. Right?
Well, at the very least, i have something to do. And i have somethings to think about in my free time. Who knows, maybe playing God will be fun. It sure sounds fun. I bet any religious people and atheists would freak out to hear about this. I wonder if any of these planets are habitable yet.
Wait. How do i get around. This place seems massive. Do i just walk or something? No, there is nothing to push against. I don't know how to move around what seems to be my very own universe.
"Let there be... maneuverability?" I feel so dumb just saying it. It's not like someone is just gonna walk up and hand me a guide book on how to watch over a universe.
I want to know how big I am compared to this place. I want to know if I can interact with the universe i created. I want to be able to see what is going on here. I want-
"To go back."
Suddenly, upon my asking, I was warped to a place that looked not unlike my own world. Not on the surface, but a large distance above it. I could see large, blue oceans. There were vibrant, green continents. There was a moon also nearby. Below me there were satelites. Man-made, not natural. Aircrafts flying even further below.
Trying everything i could, i eventually figured out how to maneuver myself. I drop down to a familiar point on the planet. A small town. Nobody seems to notice me. I walk through the roads, automobiles pass through me with the drivers not even flinching. I make my way to a hospital nearby. I check through all of the rooms, and come across the maternity ward. Eventually, I find what I was looking for.
Myself. I feel like I have a good way to pass the time now. | 2019-10-06T00:23:54 | 2019-10-05T23:18:36 | 520 | 196 |
[WP] After the Battle of Hogwarts, Dudley met a woman and they had a daughter,Sophie. Sophie is the light of their lives,she's always been a pleasant child. The morning of Sophie's 11th birthday,there’s a knock at the door. Harry is here to visit his cousin for the first time in almost 20 years.
I just want to say that I'm super excited to read these responses! I'm holding off reading them until my kiddo goes to bed so I can sit and really pay attention to your stories!!
I can't wait to see what you guys come up with | He’s old now, Dudley thinks as he stares at his cousin, no stranger, on his doorstep. There’s a touch of grey at his temples, and the beginnings of smile lines by his eyes. He’s been happy since he left, and Dudley was glad for it.
“Hullo Big D.” He says simply, a smile caught in the corners of his mouth. He was wearing a simple sweater with a H on it, but his trousers were clean and pressed, and his shoes, of a leather Dudley had never seen before, seemed to glean in the afternoon light.
The scar that bisected his forehead was still there though. He was still Harry.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” Dudley said, hand still clutched to the door handle. It had been twenty years of well meaning Christmas cards and nothing more. No weddings or funerals. He wasn’t there when Dudley buries his father, but given their history it was probably for the best.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again either,” Harry starts. He’s still awkward but less so than when they were young and foolish. “Can I come in?” Dudley nods mutely, and closes the door behind his cousin.
The house was small, but modern. Dudley lead them to the sitting room where a woman that looked achingly like Lavender Brown sat, watching the news and nursing a cup of tea. She turns to see the guest, confusion evident on her face.
“Who was at the door dear?”
“My cousin, Harry. Surprise visit.”
“Harry Potter, it’s a pleasure.” Harry sticks out his hand for her to shake and she does, albeit weakly.
“I’ll pop the kettle on shall I? How do you take your tea?”
“Ah, two sugars and milk thanks.” Dudley’s wife nods and leaves the room.
“That’s Heather, we’ll have been married for ten years in April.”
“You have a daughter right? Sophie.” Dudley freezes for a moment, but nods. “It’s her eleventh birthday Dudley. January fifteenth. I’m sure you understand the significance of the date.”
Dudley regards his cousin with a blank look, but fear was creeping into his eyes.
“You mean- Sophie’s one of them?”
“She’s a witch, yes. There was always a likelihood of it because of Aunt Petunia, you carry magical genes even if you can’t use them.”
“But,” Dudley takes a second to whet his lips “is it safe for her? We had to leave because of Uhm that bloke.”
“Voldemort.”
A shattering noise is heard in the kitchen. | Sophie sat on the carpeted stairs mesmerized. She had never seen this odd lanky man before, and he had the most peculiar scar on his forehead. He wore a long over coat with a simple sweater underneath. He had circular glasses that blocked her view of his face. Sophie stared at him awestruck and amazed. She thought it was funny how his legs seemed so skinny and small compared to her fathers rotund shape.
"It's been forever, Harry," Her father muttered. He kept adjusting his apparently tight collar. Sophie could see the heavy line of sweat around his large forehead.
"It has Dudley, I've seen you haven't changed much since..." 'Harry' seemed to pause slightly as Dudley winced at the mention of his late mother and father. "I'm sure you wonder why I've shown up today of all days-"
"I'd rather not with Sophie here," He turned to her. She immediately ran upstairs giggling and pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes.
He paused just before the first step and looked up making sure she had really gone up. Sophie smiled as she peeked out from behind the wall, but her father was already back to Harry. She sat on the top step and fiddled with a small feather that she had found years ago in her room. It was a gorgeous white with small specks of black and grey. Waving it around she thought of how it came to be in her room.
The front door opened and her mother walked in carrying heavy groceries. Sophie blinked her long eye lashes before she realized that her mother was motioning for help. Skipping down to the living room she helped her mother as her father and Harry talked in hushed voices staring one another down over the coffee table.
"Mum, what are they talking about?" Sophie wondered aloud as she watched not helping at all.
"I don't know, Sunshine," Her mother was organizing food by vegetables and deli meats. "But please be a dear and help your poor old mum."
Sophie relented and tried to listen as she moved back and forth from the counter to the fridge. Eventually her father stood up. He had a large (probably fake) smile on his face and a crunched up envelope in his hand.
"Sophie, come here."
She moved over slowly blinking and trying to look innocent. For all she knew he could be a associate from her school, and for all she knew she wasn't the one who drew inappropriate signs in the girls bathroom upstairs.
"This is your uncle Harry," her father placed a clenched hand on her shoulder. Shocked she flinched and adjusted her shoulder.
"You mean the one you said was put in a foreign jail?" Sophie blurted. Harry's eyes became dark and his face was moments away from becoming a frown. Her father laughed.
"No no no," he wheezed tightening his grasp on her shoulder. "The other Harry!" Sophie searched her brain.
"The one in the looney bin?" She said a little to loudly. Struggling to hold in a laugh Harry glanced back at her father with an angry look. Dudley looked more flustered and his face started turning red.
"Dear, this is important, so please pay attention," he sputtered. Sophie glanced back at her mum who was getting dinner ready. "Go on, Harry."
Uncle Harry motioned for her to sit next to him on the floral couch. Sophie sat as far as she could from him as her father sat in her grandfathers chair. Her father reached his large hand out and opened it showing a crumbled and sweaty letter.
She snatched it hoping for a birthday present containing some kind of cash, but it was to light. Sophie paused staring at the emblem pressed into the letter. Now it was cracked and crushed but she imagined what it would look like as it was before, sitting in her Uncle's large coat pocket perfect and not yellowed from her fathers sweat. She looked up at her Uncle who now had a look of suppressed joy. Sophie was confused and looked at her father who had a look of sadness.
"You're a wizard, Sophie." And her mother dropped the plates she was carrying and they shattered all over the floor. | 2019-10-16T11:44:39 | 2019-10-16T11:35:26 | 94 | 66 |
[WP] You, a novice necromancer, accidentally discovered a new and more effective way of using your magic - politely ask the dead for assistance, which works suprisingly well. For this, you are hunted by both your fellow necromancers(for your unorthodox methods) and paladins(for using necromancy). | Tara watched the foul necromancer at work. He was working on a corpse, of course. Nothing she could do about it, tied up as she was. But she wasn't gagged... "Let me go, servant of evil."
He shrugged. "You going to try to stab me again?"
"I will smite you."
"Then you stay right there." The necromancer held up an arm, and with a deft hand, sutured an open wound shut. "There we go."
The corpse of a small girl stood up from the table. "Can I go back to daddy now?"
"I'm sure you can." The necromancer smiled gently.
"*May* I?" the girl asked, clearly annoyed.
The man laughed. "Go right ahead, sweetie. Make sure to stop in next week. Gotta make sure those stitches stay together now." The girl took that moment to run out of the room.
Tara watched this all in contempt, but also curiosity. "Why do you do that?" she asked.
"Do what?"
"Treat them as if they are people?"
"...Because they are?"
"They are soulless abominations puppeted by your magic," Tara ground out.
"If you say so." He turned around, dismissing her in the most infuriating manner. No matter. She'd escape, eventually.
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Tara was almost going cross-eyed in confusion. There was an old woman. A living woman. And an old man. A dead man. They were here together. From all she learned in her life as a Paladin, this shouldn't be happening.
"Ain't takin' good care of himself," the woman said reproachfully.
"I'm takin' care of myself just fine, woman! Yer always naggin' about my limbs. Don't hear ya complainin' when they put food on the table!"
"Albert," the Necromancer started, snickering. "While I hate to say it, your wife has a point. If your arm falls off, you really do need to see me."
"...You too, huh? Okay, lemme get this darn thing out..." Albert pulled his dismembered arm out of his satchel.
After the necromancer had reattached Albert's arm and the couple left, Tara said what was on her mind. "His wife was alive. But he wasn't."
"What is life? Is it a heartbeat, or a state of mind?"
"It is a soul. Death is when the soul rests. Necromancy brings the soul into unrest."
"And did dear old Albert seem restless?"
"...Why did you raise him?" she asked, ignoring the question.
"Because he wasn't ready, and neither was his wife. And it was something I could do for them."
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Tara watched as a young man brought a body in, weeping, begging the necromancer to bring her back. The young woman had clearly been hit by something, or perhaps fell from a great distance. Either way, her body was broken.
The necromancer changed that, after ushering the man out of the room. Not with magic, as she would have expected, but with surgery. He replaced some of her bones with ones made of metal. He unwound tendons and muscles she knew not the name of, inscribing symbols on the inside of her skin. He rounded out her broken skull, using a shell of wood to ensure it would stay together. And when he was all done, the woman was whole once more, looking like she was only asleep.
The necromancer reached down, his hand imbued with dark energy. This was it. This was necromancy. She'd seen it before, when they turned the bodies of her parents into zombies under their command. Now was the time that he'd show his cruelty, creating a false life with strict orders to pretend to be the woman in question. The people who lost their love ones could never truly get anything back but a puppet that toyed with their emotions.
"Wake up," the necromancer said gently. "Your loved one is waiting."
The girl woke up, looked around, then seemed to realize where she was. "I... died?"
"Yes. But Clarence brought you here. Are you alright? Does everything feel okay?"
The woman moved her once-broken hands around, then touched against her head. "Er... yes, sir. It doesn't feel any different. Can I really go home like this?"
"You should come back at least once a month, but otherwise, yes, you are free to go."
With a thank you and a smile, the woman left, and Tara couldn't take it anymore.
"Why?! Why do you do this?! Why do you bring them back? Why do you not command them? Why do you treat them so nicely?!" her face felt wet, and she realized she was crying.
He smiled at her. "Life is short. If I can give them more time so they can make peace with their loved ones and more fully appreciate this beautiful world, then I will do it."
"Why... Why not use that power for yourself...?"
"Many other necromancers have asked me that. I will tell you what I have told them. You can always be a little better, a little kinder. Every day, you can do it, if you try. And it's okay if you can't do much. It's okay. Even a little kindness goes a long way." |
Today was supposed to be an easy day. Just a simple supply run. Jessie and me were to go down to the lake to check out the old marina and see if there was anything worth taking back to our hideaway. Food, medicine, weapons, tools, anything. We needed anything. There were not supposed to be many undead in this area. There was not supposed to be any other survivor groups in this area. But there were.
Jessie and me pulled of the main road just a couple of klicks north and hid the truck well enough so we could make our way down to the water on foot. We slipped by the few undead that trudged about the forest and got to the marina just as planned. We split up to check the place faster. She went to check the front offices while I searched the toolshed.
I was in the middle of stuffing a rusty can of sardines into my backpack when I heard her scream. I looked out a window and saw them. Four guys with guns dragging her out, kicking and screaming.
Three days ago I had a full cylinder in my revolver. After Bob stupidly opened a door that turned out to have a band of hungry undead locked behind it, there were only a couple bullets left (and no Bob). I could only watch as one guy hit her and she went limp as they put her in a car and started to drive away.
I dropped my pack and started to sprint back to the truck. I knew I could catch up to them if I could get to the main road in time. The winding side street down to the marina was clogged with husks of burnt cars, and it would take them a while to navigate back to the main road and go anywhere else. A plan started to form in my mind, of waiting in ambush and ramming their car off the road, and of pulling out my gun and machete and leaping out and killing them in close combat. It was a stupid plan, and one with a very low chance of success, but not one I would ever get the chance to try, because even stupiderly, I ran straight into a mob of undead.
Right as I turned a corner I saw them, and more distressing, they saw me. Clustered around the truck were nearly a dozen walking corpses, their rotten and skeletal faces turned towards me. My pounding heart skipped a beat as they began to run at me. They don't run as fast as they did during the initial outbreak, but a half starved human like me doesn't run as fast as I used to either.
I didn't get far before I tripped on an exposed root. I hit the ground rolling as the masses of undead closed in around me, putrid flesh in tattered rags carrying insatiable toothed mouths and skeletal clawed hands. I almost was able to pull my gun, but it was too late. But it was not too late for my final, pitiful words. "No! Stop! Please!"
I expected to die. I expected to feel the pain of being torn apart and devoured. But I didn't. I opened my eyes and looked through the arms I had thrown up around my face and saw them. They had stopped. A score of undead stood around, gray eyes upon me, not attacking. Just swaying in their lifeless, uncoordinated way.
I pulled myself warily to my feet. I looked at the closest undead, something that probably used to be a man with a mullet haircut and denim overalls. In a shaky voice I said, "hello."
It said, "aaaaarrggh."
I waved at it.
It waved back.
I started talking to them.
"Please, my name is John, and I need your help. Some people took my wife and they are coming here any second. I don't know what to do. I need to save her!"
Unblinking eyes stared at me. Jaws let out various groans and gurgles. They shuffled. I think they agreed.
Another plan formed in my head. This time it was a better one.
Moments later I had the truck in the middle of the road, parked sideways and blocking both lanes. I barely had time to hide in the bushes when I heard the sound of a car approaching. I held my breath as it stopped.
"Goddammit someone get out and move this thing out of the way!" shouted a male voice. "Jerry, Lenny get out there and push!"
Car doors opened and two men got out of the car. Each looked around nervously before they slung their rifles and put hands on the vehicle.
"NOW!" I yelled.
At that, undead came pouring out of the thick vegetation that lined the road. I think I heard a gunshot and an exclamation of "oh shit!" before it dissolved into the screams of men being mauled and eaten. I jumped out from my hiding place, gun cocked in hand.
The driver was distracted, rightfully so, at the sudden appearance of the horde. He did not notice as I slid up to his window and put a bullet through it.
The last man shoved his door open and started the flailing run of a man in a panic. He made it about thirty yards down the road before being overtaken and piled upon by voracious cadavers.
I opened the trunk of the car and there she was, bound and unmoving. I took her beautiful head in my hands. Her eyes fluttered. "Jess, can you hear me?"
"J-John?" she replied.
I felt the mightiest wave of relief wash over me. "Its gonna be okay, baby, I got you now. Everything is gonna be alright."
Suddenly her eyes went wide. I turned and saw the undead standing behind me.
"No, no, it's fine!" I sputtered. "They helped me. I don't know why, but they did! They can understand me! It's amazing, right?"
I untied her and helped her out of the trunk, but her face was still gripped with fear. I held her hand as she stepped up into the truck amidst the disinterested undead shuffling about.
"Hold on just a second, sweetheart," I said. I turned to the undead. "Uh, thanks you guys. I am eternally grateful to you. Usually your kind just kills us on sight, but for whatever reason, you didn't, and that is pretty fricking cool. We gotta get back to our people now, but I'll be back. I promise!"
When I turned back to the truck I saw Jess in the driver's seat.
She was pointing a gun at me.
"Jess? What's going on?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, John, but by the rules of my order, you are an abomination. I can't let you live. Goodbye."
A shot rang out and I fell to the ground. Tires squealed as the truck sped away. The world went dark. | 2019-10-24T21:19:31 | 2019-10-24T18:28:11 | 57 | 16 |
[WP] Interstellar wars are quick, most species die of shock quite quickly. Getting shot was a death sentence. That was until humans joined the Galaxy... | It was a single scout ship that first orbited the Earth. It’s technology was advanced well beyond the planet below. The crew was carrying out standard investigation protocol. The rocky planet had tremendous resources, including heavy metals, water, and vast amounts of organic. The population appears strong and useful. They were still in the regional groups and should be easily overwhelmed.
The systems had found Earth’s electronic communication and had deciphered multiple languages. Another good sign, different languages was a sign of a semi-primitive civilization.
Broadcasts were reviewed, and the Shokken were alarmed. Two humans engaged in a ritual combat, with 15 cycles. Both humans were standing at the end. The beating would have ended a Shokken in a single cycle.
Another broadcast shows humans living among a group of powerful carnivores. The humans dominated these carnivores to the point that the carnivores obeyed their children. Unbelievable!
The last broadcast showed humans dominating a herbivore that weighed many times the humans weight. The human even forced the herbivore to carry the human. The herbivore was so dominated that it performed tricks on command and children dominated that beast.
The last broadcast showed a vehicle that crashed into another vehicle, a poorly designed system, but both occupants survived the crash that destroyed the vehicles.
The commander of the scout ship was red with agitation. He had never seen a species that was so individually durable and willing to take risks for small rewards. He chose the only safe option: this solar system and a minimum of ten light years will be a forbidden zone. If these human monsters reached interstellar space , they would be unstoppable... | ''The suit that I’m wearing also has the same compound as well.''
They look confused. One of them asks a question through the translator, ''Can you tell us where did you find this material?''
I clear my throat, ''Let me be clear, our deal with you only includes getting you all the defensive technology, not giving away our secrets. If you really want to become allies with humans, you have to accept our initial help. Your enemy already has a big advantage over you, without our help your race will cease to exist.''
They accept the offer and they say they are glad to become allies with us.
I wait to be transported back to my ship. After a few minutes, guards take me to another room and they close the door.
Ten minutes later, someone opens the door and walks in, ''I’m here to inform you that we will be holding you here until we get the exact location of that compound.''
I send a distress signal from my suit.
''I understand your urge. But are you sure that you want another enemy instead of an ally?'' I ask.
He makes disgusting noises and what I can guess this is their way of laughing.
''You have no idea what is going on here. They weren’t our enemies. We were playing you all along. You are just a fool.''
''Alright, I might be a fool but I’m also a human. Humans don’t respond to threats very well. We have certain chemicals in our body that make us very irrational and losing doesn’t matter to us as long as the other side loses. Your kind asked me how we became so dominant in this galaxy. We fought since we were just a baby. We fought when we only had just one planet. We fought for a single solar system. Now you just made fool of yourself by taking a fight with humans.''
He stares at me without saying anything and then he leaves the room.
I think about my family and my friends I might not be seeing them again. Suddenly, I feel sleepy.
***
I wake up to disturbing dizzy feeling. I’m in a different room now. I realise that someone took a sample from my suit. They probably will try to examine it but I’m not sure they can contain it.
After a few hours, the same guy walks in, ''WHAT DID YOU DO?'' His voice gives me a headache.
''I have no idea what are you talking about. Can you please lower your voice?'' I say.
He seems angry, ''You poisoned us!''
''Oh, you are talking about the sample that you took from my suit. Well, I never told you that you should do that. It’s a very protective material it protects your vital organs against pretty much every weapon in the galaxy. But you have no idea how dangerous that material is when it’s not perfectly handled. I’m glad you are getting what you deserved.''
I take a deep breath and I see that my suit has only 5% power left. It's time to accept my fate.
------------------------------------------------
**Thank you for reading the story**
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | 2019-10-25T08:47:26 | 2019-10-25T08:30:46 | 217 | 78 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | When the rapture happened there was a pretty big uproar. Anarchy, riots the whole shebang. People were scared, and they should've been. But then after, they started to get used to it. Then people started being born with weird birthmarks, and usually developed powers based on that mark. Most had constellations. My friend, Jace, he had Orion. That made him extremely strong, and able to see what he wants no matter where he is on the planet. Which is crazy. Me? I've ways just had a circle. Just a plain small blue circle on my forearm. Because of that I get bullied. I never use my power, my dad told me not too right before he died. They assume I'm weak. They assume I don't have a power.
Oh how wrong they are.
I'm tired of being the object of their torture.
Of being punched by those with strong constellations.
Even poisoned by the serpent ones.
I. Am. Done.
They will finally realize why I never use my circle. My power.
My Black Hole.
They try to punch, to poison, to do anything. But nothing escapes gravity. Nothing.
They have hit me for the last time.
As my former friend Orion throws his punch, smiling, laughing at my pain with the others, I reach out my hand. My head tilts up, lip split, black eye, and finger broken.
I reach out my hand, and say "I'm done." He stops laughing, and looks at me with a cautious look. He should be much more than cautious.
From my palm springs out a purple/black energy writhing in smokey tendrils, around Orion. His eyes widen and he screams. Whether out of fear or pain, I don't care anymore.
I'm tired.
His body fold in on itself with a sickening wet crunch, and turns completely black, glowing purple. The others are standing back, fear in their eyes. Good they should be afraid. Their weak Constellations won't save them now.
I'm tired.
I grab what used to be Orion's body, but now black hole, in my hand as my fist closed around it, about the size of a baseball. I look up at the others "I'm done being Bullied."
I'm tired.
I throw my Ball at them and as I do they try to run, but nobody can outrun gravity. It connects, and his body fold in on himself too, combining with Orion, to make the ball about the size of a softball.
They made me do this. I never wanted this. I just wanted to be left alone. I'm so very tired. So. Tired. My vision goes black with my body still moving. I'm done. | He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil. A circle broken into quarters with a crosshair that intersects the ring in the cardinal directions would flare with a dark purple, and I would feel the weight of the world crash onto my shoulders, driving me to the ground. I would cough and sputter until I agreed to give him what he wanted.
It was the same thing every day after the first gym class of the year. I took my shirt off and displayed my sigil carved in between my shoulder blades. A simple circle, no beginning or ends, lay there with no indication of the godlike powers others had. Some could tear holes in reality and jump to a location thousands of miles away, others could produce, and control flames each one of these fantastic powers had intricate symbols that notated their ability. I sighed as I approached my locker, let the abuse begin.
He pushed off the wall and walked confidently to the block my way, “Hey John, did you manage that algebra homework?”
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class,” I grinned at him as the giant gears in his mind started to turn. His face lost his smile into a focused look as he processed my comment. Then his anger bared down on me. Taking physical form, turning my arms to lead, my torso squeezing, making it hard to breathe, that the blood rushed from my head. The gravity acting on me was increasing by the movement, dropping me to one knee than to the floor as the force continued to bear down on me, cracking my spine and grinding my bones against each other. As my vision started to fade to pinpoints of color, the unending weight eased. I coughed and spat out thick red strands, this was the farthest he had ever gone, I’m no doctor, but I knew I’d spend some time in the hospital. This had to end.
I reached out and gathered my memories, each pinprick of pain every unstable breath. The feeling of having the life crushed out of me. My senses were hammering back to life as blood and oxygen raced to my brain just enough to tell he was digging through my bag. I reached out and grabbed his ankle, and my sigil flared for the first time in years the white light filling the hall enveloping everything
He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil crushing me.
‘But He was me. I looked down; my sigil was gone. I… I think I am John!’ the unexplainable happens. He was now me.
“Hey, John, did you manage that algebra homework.”
‘No, no, this isn’t right. Let me move DAMN IT!’ He struggled to move the body he was now in, but it would do him no good.
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class.”
The pain started slowly as it had for me increasing gradually to an unimaginable crushing force threatening to break my body. And just as the effect receded and an end to the feelings of pain and helplessness, he approached the hall. There we were standing where he always did next to the water fountain.
A circle has no beginning and no end, and it loops around itself endlessly just like he would. To be honest, I felt terrible; I had no way of stopping it now that I had activated my sigil. No escape mechanism to save him from his attack on me. I justified telling myself that he had attacked me. He was going to kill me over homework. But dragging the razor over my forearm, I knew the truth. No matter how awful someone was, they didn’t deserve that. Looking down at the new bleeding cut that would eventually scar over, I shook my head. Three people were now like this, and there was no one to blame but me. | 2020-02-26T07:44:57 | 2020-02-26T07:25:14 | 91 | 51 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | As his back bounced off the unforgiving steel of his own locker Tomas contemplated what imagined slight he caused this time. It was always the same. Same oblivious parents. Same uncaring teachers. Same Jacob Meech.
The circle sigil on the back of his right hand a mocking symbol of his overall life so far.
He considered staying down. Sometimes Jacob lost interest if he did. Staring at the back of his hand a spark of anger ignited inside him, quickly become an inferno of acidic rage. Rising to his feet he stared down his bully with so much malice; so much raw hatred that it made the invulnerable quarterback pause.
"Enough." Tomas spat raising his right hand at the other boy and his sigil finally began glowing.
Snapping his fingers the glow brightens them dims, the sigil shifting to the number twenty-four.
"Twenty-four hours." He sneered his voice rising to address the other kids who had gathered to watch him get bullied.
"I have locked away your powers for twenty-four hours. After the allotted time they will return to you." Tomas picked up his bag and started to walk out of the ring of students, pausing next to Jacob, a stunned look still on his bullies face.
"You wanted to see my power so bad? Now you have. I like to call it a black hole. But it's really more like a prison. For sigils that is. Touch me again and it'll be twenty-four years"
The first bell rang as Tomas walked away. | My head rebounds off worn red brick after Jackson threw me into the outside wall of the teacher's office. His cronies hold my arms to the wall as Jackson puts his sigil to use, cutting my shirt to ribbons with swipes of his fingers to reveal my sigil, his careless cruelty leaves many shallow cuts on me by the time my shirt is in tatters on the path below.
"Hey, Zero! Does your mum know your sigil's a reflection of you as a person?!" said Jackson mockingly. He and his friends laugh. I remain silent.
He does not take kindly to this. "Oi, Zero!" he bellows as he slashes me across my chest where my sigil lies. His cronies stifle a wince, but keep their grip firm. My continued silence toward his jabs was the tipping point, as he then raises his hand and slowly draws his outstretched index finger toward my eye.
"I'm gonna carve another circle into ya, Zero. Maybe then you'll realise just how useless you are and will fuck off back to your mum where you belong!" His friends share a nervous glance.
With concerted effort, I stare down his finger as it draws closer, seeing my reflection in his fingertip as it morphs into a blade. One more moment before contact. Now.
His finger sinks into my eye, or rather, it would have if my eye was there. He recoils, staring into the gaping hole in my head and seeing red brick where my eye should be. Before any of them have time to react, my arms disappear into thin air and I dash out into the nearby courtyard, adjusting my running technique to accommodate a lack of arms and staying extra cautious thanks to a current lack of depth perception. Defecits that are quickly remedied as my missing body parts pop back into existence.
Jackson and his cronies give chase, and it's made clear very quickly who among us are physically superior, as they shortly close the gap, shoving a number of other kids out of the way as they went. Jackson swipes at my back as I leap down a short flight of stairs to a courtyard for the kids in lower grades, his fingertips glinting in the afternoon sun. In the split second his blades sing through the air I occupy, my midsection disappears from view, reappearing in time for me to land firmly on the astroturf just behind a kid in Grade 1.
As fast as he is, Jackson's stamina isn't enough to keep up the chase; turns out running from bullies on a near daily basis is good cardio. I continue running until I'm confident I've gotten away, and I collapse in a seat in the reception hall.
A circle is a symbol for many things. It's a symbol of togetherness when made of people, it's a symbol of oppression when made of iron. It's an infinite loop when scrutinized in a philosophy class. But on paper, and me, it's a zero. Nothing. | 2020-02-26T07:36:26 | 2020-02-26T07:22:21 | 72 | 46 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | I remember asking my mom if her sigil vibrates on her skin. The look of confusion told me what I felt I already knew. My circle, though plain, feels alive.
There were no issues in elementary school, nor middle school. It was junior high that brought my happiness with my humming sigil to a screeching halt.
Victor began to torment me. No one, not even the teachers, stopped him. Day after day I came home wishing to cease my existence. During each fight, each punch, my sigil hummed faster. It even glowed red once, or was it my distorted vision from the punches?
"Failure of a man is what you are! Who is so cursed that they have no powers, huh? Show me your powers, ya bitch!" His mark reminded me of Cerberus, the dog that protected Hades. Thick and ugly, just like him; powerful fists that pound me into the ground. I took it, the punches and taunts, day after day. The nurse patching me up afterwards, while Victor was "lectured".
I went home, contemplating ending my life. It's just too much, and today he had broken several bones. The "Welcome home Sarge" sign in the yard made my heart drop.
My dad is home from the war. I walk in to see my siblings oh so happy to meet the hero of the century, the man with the Griffin sigil. He looked at me with severe disappointment though, as if he could see the circle on my collar bone. It vibrated quicker as he stood up. "Get out of my sight."
"Daniel," mother shouted, "he is your son!"
"He's nothing."
I went to my room, the fight escalating downstairs. It took everything in me to push the tears down. "What do you do besides vibrate?" I asked, eyeing my empty sigil. My question was left unanswered, even as I laid in bed.
I am in no mood to handle Victor's taunts today, and honestly, I'm pretty sick of him. My father's words bouncing around in my head, to the point that I want to scream. His hand is what brings me out of my reverie.
"You answer when I speak to you! You're nothing afterall!"
"Nothing," I snarled, "then leave me alone. If I'm nothing, why waste your time?"
The punch hit the back of my head so hard, I blacked out. The only words I felt in my head, weren't my father's cruel words, or anyone else's, but help me. That's when lights of every color filled my vision. The warmth started from my collar bone, and went to my toes.
"Of course, I'll help. That's all you had to do-ask."
When I come to, there's a dragon in the hallway, half of Victor in its mouth. Brilliant colors shine on every scale, as opal eyes look at me.
"Uhhh... drop him." My voice is tentative, yet I feel like I know this creature. It obliges, and shrink down to wrap itself around my neck. As Victor stands up, it hisses at him, sending Victor into a corner. I simply walk away, with a smirk. They all wanted to know so badly, now I feel their regrets in finding out. While I'm elated.
I walk to my next class, as I feel the vibration return. My circle, not an empty thing after all. It was an egg. I look at my collarbone, and there, in my circle, is a dragon winking at me. | Even before the rapture, that's what we've grown to call the day the sky lit up like a god had laid fire to a rainbow, i had trouble fitting in. I never enjoyed the "normal" things kids were supposed to: sports, video games, comic books. I was always staring out the window. Looking for shapes in the clouds or stars. Wishing to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
​
Then it happened. The rapture was a chaotic day. No one understood was what is occurring in the that moment but people began to feel great pain as sigils were branded on their foreheads by some unseen entity. After people recovered from the shock of it all they found that these sigils allowed them to do very special things. Some could play with fire, others electricity. A few could simply conjure energy (this was anything but simple to purists of general relativity). While others still could modify time as we knew it and their place in it.
​
Those with greater power had endured greater pain. The most common sigils were the size of a half dollar. The "elites" were typically the size of your fist, placed on your forehead. Since we we were still human our baser nature was still prevalent. People outside the standard were shunned as people to be scared of, or rejected. A few people had had their heads branded with their sigil. Each one of them, male and female alike, were named witches and treated as they were in colonial Salem. There's even urban legend of a few "mutants" of such immense power their entire body is wrapped in their sigil. Me though, my sigil is nothing and i've been treated as a reject since. For some reason the nickname "empty glass" stuck and all the kids simply refer to me as "glass" now.
​
Today, walking through the halls, being mocked pretty lightly for a Tuesday (schedules rotate daily and Tuesday's bring the 2nd most bullies outside Ms. Snyders room) I feel a sudden impact on my cheek. I guess Sully felt it was time to check if I still considered myself worthy of being in the presence of "regular people" or if he could break me. As I recover from the blow I look up and see a teacher trying to intervene but other bullies using their sigils to restrain the teacher. The teachers were severely outnumbered and I may be in danger.
​
Sully chirps, "Yo glass, why won't you just go away! You'll never be able to do anything. You have no use. " More threats are hurled as well as punches but I don't hear or feel any of them. They all land; i'm certain I'll feel them tomorrow but not right now. That one insult from Sully is all i have in my mind.
​
During a break in the pummeling I simply lower my head and say "Fine". As I say this I wave my hand over my forehead and out in front of me. As I do this, everything around me stops as I'm encircled by a sphere of dust and specks. I motion with my hands to pull and spin this cloud around me, shapes slowly become visible. After a few more seconds I'm pulling at one shape in particular. It's apparent to anyone who would be with me that it's the milky way. I continue until I've Google Universe'd my way right into this hallway we're all standing in. (since playing with this sigill since the rapture this process only takes a moment) I see grab the Sully from my projection. Zoom out. Give the dust cloud a spin and flick Sully off into somewhere. I motion to condense the dust cloud and it finds it's way back to my sigil. A single circle the size of an atom (i've checked), in the middle of my forehead.
​
Returned to the current situation, everyone is confused and shocked. Many of the bullies are screaming "What did you do to sully?", "Where's sully??", "WTF?", "You wanna die!" and things like that. I calmly say, "Sully is no more. Who's next?". Another bully motions to strike me. I make the same motions (I should really find a way to book mark my town!) but instead of sending this bully away I squeeze the projection until it explodes. On my return I see the remaining bullies, teachers, and other students covered in bits of the last one to attempt to strike. I say, "Next?". Everyone scatters, screaming.
​
This saved me from a further beating that day but I should have taken the beatings. Today, even the witches and mutants are afraid of me and hunt me because I am different.
\------
So many ideas on where to take this. Thanks for the prompt. | 2020-02-26T12:40:00 | 2020-02-26T09:02:03 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] You're sat alone, with a glass of wine in hand, and decide to jokingly toast the Greek God Dionysus. You did not expect him to appear before you in human form, create two bottles of wine, and take a seat next to you. | The Maenad
"Fuck you, David; it wasn't my fault." I mumbled as I finished the second bottle of the evening. "Fuck you. Fuck you and your whole family and fuck your little whore too. It wasn't my fault."
Angry as I was at the time, I actually felt sorry for Emily. She didn't know what a piece of shit my ex-husband was, taken in as she had been by his crocodile tears at the death of our child. As if David had ever really felt a thing for the child he hadn't even bothered to come see until after I was released from the hospital. Too "busy" with business deals and sliding his hands under the skirt of any woman willing to let him or afraid to deny him to even check on us let alone be present for the birth of his heir.
He hadn't had so much as a tear in his eye when he had dragged Zoe from the pool and he'd been cold the whole time preparations were made for her funeral. The only emotion he had showed was when he had turned on me at her graveside and accused me of orchestrating her death. As if I, sick and asleep in my bed on the opposite side of the house while he worked in his home office whose window overlooked the pool, could have made my way to the pool any quicker than him. As if I could have made some difference in the outcome.
"Fuck you." I say again, boiling in my anger, resentment and sorrow.
I pour myself the start of the third bottle, hand wavering, and raise the glass to the bust of Dionysus my mother had gifted me shortly before her death.
"Here's to you, the only man who has never hurt me."
I throw it back and try not to think at all. I put my glass down and as I stare into it's empty depths a hand crosses my vision to refill it.
"Thank you." I mumble reaching for it again.
I glance at my guest as he takes his seat next to me. I take in the overly long, curly, black hair. The not quite androgynous features. His body shows both the softness inherent in one who has never lacked for nutrition and the strength of one who has worked hard. His hands are calloused, but oddly so. It does not seem odd or an imposition as he makes himself at home, his fustanella and a length of fabric draped about his shoulders like a cape seemingly his only garment.
I finish my glass then hold it out to him, imperious as a queen, and he smiles at me. I smile back, the pain in my heart momentarily eased.
It is companionable, the near silence between us. I almost feel less drunk as the night goes on, though time and memory seem to slip away too easily, avoiding my attempts to catch them for later examination.
I know we spoke at length about the words I had used to summon him and the meaning behind them, though I can't recall what was said. I know we danced a wild dance so unlike anything I had experienced since before my marriage. Possibly unlike anything I had ever danced before.
I remember holding his hand as we ran through unknown wilderness and I remember the women who ran with us, beautiful and hideous in their madness. I remember the animals that were unlucky enough to meet us.
I do not remember seeing my ex-husband. I do not remember Emily or their baby.
I remember waking up here, in this hospital, strapped down to a bed as a nurse cleans the blood from my face. The flesh from my teeth. I scream at her, wordlessly, and one of my hands comes free. I reach for her face with fingers curled to hurt her and I miss.
As I exhaust myself fighting I cast my gaze past the orderlies that have been brought in to tie me down again and he is there, in the corner of the room. He toasts me once and I can feel my mouth filling with blood-warm wine.
I swallow and the madness consumes me once more. | I’m hunched over an empty dining room table, necktie undone, staring into a glass of bloodred wine that I plan to drain to a rosy sheer. I couldn’t tell you what time it is. Definitely well past the traditional four.
In all the past years - especially the ones since my sister got married - I admit I kind of dreaded the holidays. I have the ‘fun’ house, up by a lake, so naturally it was my place that was always flooded with grandparents, uncles, rambunctious cousins shrieking as they chased each other through the halls. I was never a fan of that chaos the way the others were, but let me tell you, now that they *can’t* come this year, the silence sounds so much worse.
So I’m sitting alone at the table — the big one, with the fancy plates anyway, dammit — with half a freezer-aisle pot pie and a glass of wine. The wine is actually pretty nice, I’m told — all the cheap stuff was sold out. This is normally the part where I’d get called to toast to someone’s college graduation or baby or Aunt Suzy’s good health. But there’s no one here. I swirl the wine and pretend to sniff it like I know what I’m doing.
“To Dionysus, I guess; thanks for the only good part of today.” I extend my arm out to the empty chairs.
I take a deep drink and, when I lower the glass, almost yak it back out through my nose. I slam the glass onto the tabletop way too hard and stare, unblinking, straight ahead.
Right across from me, leaning with a hand on one of the empty seats, is a young man. I make it as far as shock at seeing another whole human (?) face that doesn’t live with me, here, in person, but strangely the thoughts of *who are you* and *how the fuck did you get into my house* don’t make it to my tongue. He just . . . radiates friendliness so strongly I can’t even conceive of him being a burglar, a threat.
When I finally gulp down my drink and speak, what comes out is, “What’s with the stick?”
The young man looks at the staff he’s holding with mild interest, shrugs, and leans it against the table. Then he sits down.
“I’ve not heard that name fall from a mortal’s lips in some time,” he says, considering me. “Why have you called?”
I start to feel panic at being differentiated as a *mortal;* he’s either crazy or telling the truth, and both are Not Okay. But almost as quickly as I feel it, it’s pulled away, and I get the impression *he’s* doing that, concentrating his doe-brown gaze on me.
“It was just a joke,” I manage, “cause there’s no one here, but . . .” I raise the glass again. He gives a slow smile.
He looks around, sniffs the cinnamon AirWick I plugged in last minute and forgot about.
“Were you to have a feast?”
“Thanksgiving, but not really.”
“And what’s that?”
“A holiday,” I offer glumly.
“Hm,” he says, and mumbles *holiday* to himself, but it sounds like *holy day*. “Not one of mine, I assure you.” His eyes rove pityingly around the dining room. He hasn’t said his name out loud, but I can hear it ringing like a song in my head now. I’m not sure he knows he’s doing that. Or maybe he likes being a little annoying. He picks up the half-bottle of wine before me and squints at the label. When he sets it down, it’s different. Older.
His dark hair is askew, wild, his rumpled clothes look like he just pulled them on in a hurry, but his speech, in contrast, gives the air of being put-together, cultured.
“How long is some time?” I venture.
He grins. “For me, not long at all. Would you like to see?”
“What?”
“I am unbound by time; we might walk through woodlands into a mystery ages past so easily as we might stroll to that water’s edge.” He’s staring out the window at the frosty, deserted lake, now back at me. “You don’t look like you dance much, a shame, but you seem like you might enjoy the company. I promise I’ll put you back.”
I’m not convinced he can’t read minds. He smiles wider, confirming that suspicion. My legs stand up of their own accord.
As if I needed a final push to get away for the weekend, he adds in that furtive but friendly tone, “For the duration of the festival, my followers are as the closest of friends.”
I’m not sure how, but I’m standing at the door with the bottle and shoes but no coat. Any worries about the temperature are dutifully swept from my mind. I get the feeling it won’t be November, or Great Lake-side for that matter, for long.
We saunter out into the woods, talking about friends and family and how a good party is hard to find and, with laughter, how sometimes a good party finds you. After a while my feet begin to ache and my arms are numb with cold, and I look behind me to find the young man is gone. The air is getting warmer, though, like springtime, and from the grove ahead I can hear music. | 2020-11-08T13:57:12 | 2020-11-08T12:32:34 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] "Humanity will only unite if they have a common enemy. In that unity, they will achieve peace, for as long as that enemy lives." He looked at you with his dark tired eyes, your weapon on his neck, as he croaked, "That's why I chose to be the bad guy." | “You couldn’t have….” The hero gasped as the words left the old man’s lips.
“That’s right. Humanity has fought against itself for far too long. I realized it after I saw my family die in the last great war. We have spent too much time bickering about ourselves instead of attempting to work together. That’s because it’s human nature to fight among ourselves unless there is a great enemy. That is why I took it among myself to become the greatest villain of all time. Sure, there may be those who suffer fighting against me, but over time, the number who suffer will be far less than without me. You should….”
“That’s your reason this time?” The hero interjected.
“What?”
“You heard me. I can’t believe you managed to finally reach this reason this time around.”
*This time around?* The old man struggled to grasp the meaning behind these words. As he wracked his brain to put meaning to the hero’s words, the images buried deep in his mind slowly came flooding back.
Endless dark armies under his command, spreading death and destruction. Dark magics flowing from his fingertips, and darker schemes. The screams of the innocent echoing in his mind as his forces slaughtered their way to victory. It was like this time, but the things were different. The armies in his vision were manned by different species. The empires he had fought against flew different banners. His body was not even clad in flesh.
And then, the one memory that unified them all. A man who always stood before him at the end of it all. A man clad in golden amour and welding a silver sword, who seemed immune to all his magic, who could effortlessly cut through his minions. A man for some reason was the only survivor out of the countless warriors who came to face him.
“How many times?” He finally croaked.
The man smiled.
“So, it only took you about 10 tries to reach that conclusion. Quite a lot, but I thought we’d never see this one when you decided that you were the prophet of some imaginary death god you dreamt up on the 9th round.”
In a flash, the man in gold armor was in front of him and he felt a fist bury itself deep into his gut. As his consciousness slowly faded to black, he heard laughter and one last metallic voice
*“Achievement unlocked. Start new game round?”*
“Yes.” | Our eyes met, and shared a look for a few seconds. He seemed exhausted, but then, so was I. How could I not be, after all I had been through? He averted his gaze before I did, his head nicking down ever so slightly.
"Peace?" I finally asked. "Do you call that peace, out there?"
My left hand pointed across the throne room, through the stained glass window encompassing most of the top floor of the tower, while my right hand still constricted around my bloodstained sword.
"Peace isn't merely the absence of war. Do you think the Brusha and the Zothen hate each other any less than they did before this whole affair? They stopped killing each other, sure enough, but I'm certain they will get right back to that the moment I leave this building with the message of your defeat." I told him, bitterly.
He tried to nod and almost cut himself on my weapon in the process.
"I know." he answered, his voice weak and slightly dizzy, probably from the blood he had already lost in the course of our fight. "It is in the nature of humanity..."
I pressed the sword a bit stronger against his neck to stop him from speaking any further.
"Really? Human nature? That's how you explain it? Did it ever occur to you that they might have real, legitimate grievences against each other? Grievences that would need to be resolved before actual peaceful coexistance would be possible?" I ranted, anger bubbling up inside of me. "Peace requires understanding. Compassion. Maybe even a bit of love! But those people out there, the Kithor, the Brusha, the Voborg, they only stopped fighting each other because they're afraid of you, not because they like each other!"
He gave me a look that was full of pity. "You're naive if you think their hate for each other will ever fade. This..." - he spread his arms in a gesture that was probably meant to refer to the whole planet, but to me seemed more directed at the throne room around us, littered with the broken bodies of my friends and foes alike - "...is the best we can hope to archieve. Kill me, and the endless wars I ended will start anew."
"Maybe they will." I said, my right hand starting to hurt because I had gripped my sword too tightly. "I will do my best to avoid it, but I can't promise it will work. Even if it doesn't, I can promise you, one day there will be actual solutions to the problems the people of this world have with each other. One day there will be a humanity that is united by their love for each other, not by their hate for you."
His eyes glanced over the bodies of his bodyguards, who were either already dead or still bleeding out on the ground around us. "Big words..." he coughed, spitting out blood, "...big words for somebody that solves all of his problems by killing his enemies. I think we're more alike than you want to..."
He was interrupted by a gurgling sound, which I only recognized a few seconds later as blood that was filling his windpipe. I stumbled backwards, leaving my sword stuck in his throat, where I must have stabbed him in a fit of rage. It took him a while to finally die, and I stayed frozed in place until I was sure it was really over. I thought about saying a sassy comment to his corpse, like "There is a difference - I'm still alive!", and was disgusted with myself for even considering it.
As I stumbled out of the door and down the winding stairs, towards an uncertain future, it occured to me that at the end, he had still kept the last word in our argument. | 2020-12-09T10:38:14 | 2020-12-09T10:23:36 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Making a deal with a demon requires a soul. Usually this is a very bad idea, but you got a crazy idea. Earlier you traded your lunch money to the school bully in exchange for a piece of paper that says you own his soul. You're about to find out if demons consider this a valid contract. | The basement lab her parents worked in, where they performed their spells on weekends, nine-year-old Lori Wittmer knew was strictly off limits. They’d explained this in detail many times, even though it was always locked. But one day, when her father was off at work and her mother had just come off a shift, Lori took the key on her mother’s keychain, unlocked the door to the basement, and put the keys back where she found them.
Late that night, an hour past when her parents had gone to bed, she took that valuable piece of paper in one hand and a spell she’d printed from the internet in the other and left her bedroom. She quietly made her way down the two staircases, into the forbidden area that she’d never even seen a glimpse of. It was just as they’d described it, really, with shelves of books and herbs, a couple long tables, and the smell of incense in the air. But also, in the corner, was a large silver pentagram set into the concrete.
Lori took the ingredients she needed, which were painstakingly organized and easy to find on the shelves, grinding them together with a mortar and pestle. Then she placed it on the floor in front of the pentagram, drizzled it with gunpowder, and set it alight. It flashed, making her flinch, and she read the spell aloud that she’d practiced many times in her head.
There was no spectacle of lights or smokes, no smell of sulfur or brimstone, no fanfare at all. Lori looked up from the bowl of ingredients and saw a cloaked woman sitting in the middle of the pentagram, straight-backed, with her legs folded under her.
“What do we have here?” the woman asked, cocking her head slowly to the right.
“I summoned you to make a deal,” the young girl said calmly. “What can I call you?”
The woman’s mouth widened into a smile. “Abby. And what can I call you?”
“Master.”
Abby’s eyes flashed in anger, Lori saw, but also there was something else there. Something curious and fascinated. “Ah.” She paused, taking in her surroundings. “Don’t suppose this is a little hideaway you built yourself?”
“It’s my parents’,” Lori said.
“I see.” Abby’s gaze eventually drifted back to the girl. “You have my attention, I’ll say that much. This is the most entertaining thing to happen to me in quite some time.”
Lori held up a piece of paper. “A girl sold me her soul. I own it now. Can I trade it to you for something?”
Abby’s smile split into a grin, her white teeth shining in the dim candlelight. “Oh, I see.” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “That’s not how this works, I’m afraid. But I have to say, points for ingenuity.” She looked Lori over. “How old are you?”
“Nine,” she answered.
Abby let out a long breath. “Nine. I can’t even conceive of being that young. The world at your feet, everything new in your eyes, so much potential. Do you know how strange that is, to be so young?”
Lori stared back curiously. “Do you know how strange it is to me to meet someone so old?”
Blinking once, slowly, Abby looked thoughtful, Lori thought. The girl wasn’t sure if demons showed emotions like people did, but from what she was seeing, that seemed to be the case. “Deals with children aren’t permitted. But you’re considered an adult at sixteen. In a blink of an eye. You think you’ll be interested in trading your soul for what you want at that point?”
Lori narrowed her eyes in sudden contempt. “I’m not interested in trading my soul for anything,” she said.
“Then what are you interested in?”
“I’m not sure I know yet,” Lori said quietly. “But I know I want things my parents don’t want. Things they try to explain to me, saying they’re bad, things like power. This girl has power over me,” she said, crumpling the paper in her hand and shoving it into her pocket. “I wanted to have power over her instead. And I know my parents wouldn’t let me even try what I’m doing. But sixteen is too long.”
“Oh, you’ve no idea what too long means,” the demon murmured. “When you sit before a newborn having lived millennia, then you can comprehend what time really is. But not before that. You have no idea.”
Lori considered that. “All right.” She paused. “How would I get power, if I didn’t want to give you anything of mine?”
“Spill blood in my name,” Abby said. “Human blood. How would you feel about doing something like that?”
“I think it would be okay.” Lori paused again. “I’m not like other humans. Am I?”
“No, child, you are not,” Abby said. “And something tells me that when you come of age and take your place in my world…there won’t be a witch like you either.”
/r/storiesbykaren | "…What is this?" The infernal being inquires as it clutches a crumpled piece of notebook paper in its talon. The room is completely dark save for the eyes of fire currently peering down upon me from within the summoning circle.
I snap my fingers and let the sound echo off the walls of the otherwise silent room. "THAT, my sir demon lord, is a soul," I declare proudly, "and I'd like to trade it for a wish."
Most people spend their spare time between third and fourth period frantically scrawling on pages of forgotten homework, fixing up their hair and makeup in the bathroom, or engaging in idle chatter with friends while strolling down the halls. Not many people spend it etching a lopsided circle of foreign symbols and runes onto their gymnasium floor, using instructions from a WikiHow article on how to summon a demon.
Not many, but there's definitely at least one person.
"Listen. I have calculus in 5 minutes," I say as I shove wrinkled notebooks and binders into my backpack, "so if we could speed this along that would be really great."
"…" The demon says nothing, but the fire in its eyes seems to grow more violent. I wipe a bead of sweat off my forehead. "Is there any way you could turn those things down?" I ask, "I'm broiling in here."
The demon readjusts its fiery gaze onto the piece of paper. "Let me say this once more: in order to make a trade with me, Demon Lord Torzon of the Eighth Layer of Hell, Loyal Servant of Bengroth the Great, Slayer of Garzach the Terrible-"
*"Oh god not the intro again"*
"…" The sizzling sound of water meeting fire reaches my ears, followed by small plumes of steam radiating off the demon.
"Oh geez," I sigh. "Are you crying…again?"
Sizzle. "It's just-" Sniffle. "I d-don't get to introduce myself all too often…" the demon chokes through pained breaths.
I drop my bag to the floor and descend into a seated position. "Listen," I start, "we've already gone over this. I'm sorry you’re the ugly dumpling of the Eltords or whatever, but I've summoned you here for a reason, okay? So why don't you take a deep breath and-"
"You know, I was in love," whispers the demon, "...**once**." A tragic sigh rakes through the demon's body, its eyes staring wistfully into the corner of the room.
I bury my face into my hands and groan. "Oh god, a backstory? *Now*? Seriously?!"
"She was a serpent and I, a mere underling at the time…" The demon continus, chuckling forlornly.
"Stop. STOP." I cross my arms frantically in front of my face, breaking the demon's pensive state. "Please for the love of Satan. I've done as you've asked. The paper you're currently reducing to ash contains the formal relinquishment of Billy from Class 1-A's soul. Yes, it's written in crayon, and yes, he did in fact spell 'soul' like 'sole', but the intent of the letter still stands! I am hereby granting you Billy's soul in exchange for one (1) of my demands. If you do that, I will happily release you and never summon you again. I swear it."
The demon stands silent for a moment. "You'll…never summon me again?" It asks hesitantly.
"Yes!" I affirm hurriedly. "I will never ever EVER call you to this dingy school room again, and you can move on with your existence like this incident never happened." I smile reassuringly.
The demon sheepishly drags its cloaked foot across the dusty floor. "So…," It starts uncertainly, "you…," Sizzle. "...never want to see me again?" A crescendo of sobs fill the room. I press my forehead into the cold linoleum floor and try to think back to the last time I experienced the emotion called joy. "M-my first true friend that I've made in the last millennium and t-t-t-they d-don't NEED me anymore! Oh the humanity, the betrayal, Great Bengroth say it isn't so!"
Suddenly the scent of the room is very reminiscent of the accidental fires my brother and I had to put out in our youth after lighting old piles of trash on fire for fun. I close my eyes and let the putrid yet nostalgic scent overtake me. Abruptly a blaring sound rattles my brain, and briefly I wonder if my moment before death has taken its shape as sound rather than seeing the tunnel of light, but I'm soon jerked away from that fantasy by human voices in the distance.
"Fire!! Fire!!"
"No running! Everyone get into single file lines!"
"Oh god we're all going to die!" "Shut up and make your way towards the front gates!"
I look up, my eyes skipping over the idiot heaped on the floor, and spot the pulsing red light fixated on the ceiling. "Great. You set off the fire alarm," I announce dryly. I rise from the floor and sling my backpack over my shoulder. "Well, this has been…" I trail off as the demon's wails, the fire alarm's screech, and my peer's chatter intertwine into what I can only designate as Hell's Mixtape. "Right then." I tip my head. "I'll be off."
I turn on my heels and exit from the mess that I've created but will *certainly* not clean up, and weave myself through the now deserted school halls. The suggestion of a hasty exit weighs heavily as abandoned papers and personal belongings litter the floors, lockers hang half open, and school desks stand at disheveled angles.
I continue my unhurried walk as the fire alarms and the now approaching fire trucks play me out, when my foot crunches on a discarded planner opened up to today's date. I reach down and pick it up, scanning the sullied page. "Oh right, looks like I did get my wish after all," I remark.
I toss the book behind me and whistle in tune of the fire trucks as I walk through the school doors. The booklet falls flat where it was found, the page showing a note written in black and highlighted several times over faces upward: "Calculus Exam - TODAY!" | 2021-03-26T20:56:09 | 2021-03-26T20:55:10 | 536 | 288 |
[WP] You have a power to gift people special abilities, but you cannot gift them to yourself. You are a assaulted by gang of bullies who threaten you to give them powers, but little do they know you can add a side effect as well. | “End of the line, kid. Not so tough without your bodyguards, eh Endowment?” Hector asked, savoring the fear in the kid’s eyes as he slowly spoke the last word. He hefted the bat for further emphasis as the two men from the bar joined him. “This can be easy or this can be hard. That’s up to you.”
“Okay, what’s easy?” the boy asked, looking around at Hector and the two drunks.
Hector laughed and turned to the others. “I told you boys, easy as pie. You’ll be glad they fired your sorry asses today after this. Superheroes don’t need jobs. We’ll be sitting pretty.”
The men, who might be his sidekicks after this little scene, played their part nicely with menacing chuckles.
“We want powers, kid. Give them to us or you leave here in a body bag.” Hector met the boy's eyes, expecting him to look away
“Okay, okay,” the boy agreed instantly. “Just tell me what power you want. If you each want one, I’ll have to touch you all at once and activate the powers in one burst.”
“It’ll be super strength, for me,” one of the former dockworkers said eagerly. “I want to be stronger than Ape Nation was!”
“Superspeed for me,” the other said. “Time dilation too, so I can control it.”
The boy superhero, powerless without his beefed-up goons to defend him, nodded in response to each man then looked at Hector.
“You dunderheads have no creativity,” he said as he rested the bat on the brick wall of the alley. “I want the ability to phase through solid matter at will, fully incorporeal, which I can reverse whenever I choose, but with a block so I can’t undo it if I’m in solid matter at the time and would hurt myself. Oh, and I don’t need to breathe while I do it!”
“Very specific,” the boy said, placing a hand on the foreheads of the two already kneeling men.
Hector placed his own hand on the boy’s forehead. He had expected the boy’s skin to be clammy, but kid’s spent time under pressure before, Hector guessed. “Will this work?”
“Yes,” the boy said, “It's already done, actually.”
“No flash of lights or anything?” the dock worker asked, whose muscles were swelling and ripping his clothes as he spoke.
“Try them out if you don’t believe me,” the boy said, watching them mutely.
The musclebound man, now over seven feet tall, reached for a dumpster and picked it up and howled in pain as he collapsed to the floor.
“You forgot Super Durability,” the boy said calmly. “You just ripped every ligament in your body, most likely.”
The other dockworker was on top of the boy instantly, holding his neck before falling back with higher pitched howls of his own, burns covering his entire body as the ashes of his clothes floated up. “Friction is a very real thing for speeders,” the boy said as he picked up the bat, “and I left out the frontal forcefield sub-power this time.”
“Good thing I was more careful, kid,” Hector said with a laugh. “What are you going to do with that bat?”
The boy tossed it at Hector, who instinctually activated his power and was immediately surrounded by a dimly lit and stinking sewer and then blackness. He fell for thirty more seconds before he realized what he forgot. It was just starting to get uncomfortably hot.
\\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. | I never wonder how people stranded in a desert feel when they see an oasis just out of reach. That’s because I experience that everyday. Not literally, of course. But I live in a world where people have supernatural gifts, and I have within me nearly every kind of gift. The only caveat is that I can’t use any of them myself but can only give them away. It’s like being Santa Claus, though at least he can teleport up the chimney.
I can give people various types of powers: super speed, super strength, super whatever. Of course, there are limits—I can’t give someone god-tier reality warping, for example. But a power is a power, and some people will stop at nothing to obtain it. In times like those, I wish I had the ability to *remove* gifts rather than give them.
A time like that happened after school one day, when Jonas and his gang of jerk-wads decided to corner me in an alley. They demanded me to give them powers.
“Santa Sam,” Jonas crooned, “Won’t you give us all some gifts?”
Santa Sam was my nickname, and I hated it. But I honestly wish I had some of Santa’s powers: if he knows when you are sleeping and when you are awake, isn’t that limited omniscience?
“Hey Jonas,” I said, “This sort of stuff earns you coal on Christmas, you know.”
“Shut up,” he replied, landing his knee onto my stomach. I fell to the pavement, winded. “Give us some powers or you know damn well what is gonna happen.”
I damn well did know what he planned to do. If I didn’t give him a gift, he was going to make me give him a *little something good* that had nothing to do with superpowers, besides the one bulging in his pants. I shivered at the thought.
“Okay, okay,” I groaned from the pavement. “What power do you guys want?”
Jonas smirked. “Strength.”
Strength? Tsk, how unoriginal. I began to think to myself: *only uninspired people*—
“Calling me uninspired?” Jonas asked, before launching a kick at my stomach.
Oh yeah, Jonas himself had the power to read minds. Comes in real handy when you’re the leader of a group of lowlifes and are trying to corner a poor kid like me. My sole escape route was through the alleyway. *If only I could quickly run past Jonas and a few grunts, then I could escape*, I thought to myself.
“Block the alleyway entrance,” Jonas exclaimed. “He plans on quickly running past us through the alley.”
The next thought that went through my head was *I hate mind readers*, which earned me another kick through my stomach. At this point, my only option was to acquiesce.
“Argh—fine,” I moaned. “I’ll give you guys some powers. What do you want?”
“Now there’s a good boy,” Jonas said mockingly. “How about you grace us with super strength, like I asked?”
“Yeah…of course you’d ask for that,” I creaked, “Because you hit soft.”
That snide comment came out of my mouth as words and back into my mouth as Jonas’ fist. Making witty comebacks wouldn’t get me out of this pickle, it seemed. I slowly got up from the pavement, stood as straight as my battered body could, then held out my right hand. Green sparks of light emitted from me, enveloping Jonas and his gang of thugs. When he realized what was happening, he grinned.
“There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jonas said. “Next time we talk, we’ll see how sly that mouth of yours can be.”
Jonas and his gang turned and walked away. Then, every single one of them collapsed on the ground, howling in pain. I wondered what was happening.
“What—what did you do?!” Jonas screamed. “I know you gave us super strength!”
Of course he knew: he could read my mind. It just turned out that I really did just give Jonas’ gang super strength, but I honestly forgot to make their bodies durable enough to handle it. That meant every time they moved, their bones and joints would snap. Maybe if I wasn’t beaten to a pulp, I wouldn’t have forgotten such an important little detail. Oops.
“Well well well,” I said, “Guess you come off too strong, eh Jonas? That’s a you-problem.”
“Take it away!” he shrieked. Jonas sort of looked like a wet noodle.
“If I could take away powers, I wouldn’t have to deal with nice people like you. I suppose I could give you a healing factor, but then you’d have the joy of breaking your bones more than once.”
I walked away, careful not to get within grabbing range of their writhing bodies. Wouldn’t want my shins crushed under their grip.
“See you guys later,” I mused. “Next time you deal with Santa Sam, try not to get on the naughty list.” | 2021-04-01T06:38:24 | 2021-04-01T06:14:11 | 551 | 133 |
[WP] As a blacksmith of a small village, you double as a weaponsmith. One day, a group of adventurers enters your smithy with a broken ivory sword that they dare you to fix it. As you run your fingers over the familiar ancient engravings, you hear a voice whisper in your mind. ‘Hello, old friend’. | The oafish warrior places the sword down in front of me that he says he wants sharpened. I stare at the gleaming ivory blade edge and the runes carved along the length of the dull edge. The light from my forge daces off the perfect implement of death I made so long ago. I never thought I would see it again.
But how did it get here? The last time I saw this blade, I had thrown it into the depths of the ocean. That had to have been, what, three hundred years ago now? I swore I would never touch this sword again. I can’t control myself when I wield it… My hand starts to tremble. I want it back. I want the power back. I reach my hand out and touch the sword’s grip with the tips of my fingers.
“Hello, old friend” A silky voice says in my head. “It’s been a while. Are you ready for some killing?”
“Yes” I say back.
“Yes, what?” The oaf who brought the sword in asks.
“I wasn’t talking to you… And the sword doesn’t need to be sharpened. In fact this blade never needs to be sharpened. It just doesn’t want to cut for you.” I tell him.
He looks at me quizzically starting to reach for the sword. His companions, who had been quietly standing back until now bot take a step forward, noticing that I now have a full grip on the hilt now.
“Here. Let me show you.” I say as I swing the sword straight at the first of the companions.
He wass able to bring his own blade up in time to catch my strike, but it doesn’t matter. My blade snaps through his like its paper, and carries on straight to his throat. He stands there, eyes bulging for a moment before blood begins to ooze down his throat. He collapses. I whip the sword in the other direction and slam it straight through the center of the other companions chest.
“It’s been so long.” The sword says in pure delight in my mind.
The remaining warrior pulls out a small dagger, clearly taken off guard by how events played out. This was not exactly what he was expecting to happen here. Frankly, this was not how I saw my day going either.
“See? Its sharp…Now tell me, boy, where did you find this sword?” I ask him.
He glances down at his still dying friends and manages to stammer out “F-f-from a a flea market in New Gurdhelm. It was in a pile of junk.”
He seems to regain some of his composure and takes up a defensive Iron Guardian pose.
“I see from your stance that fought under King Alster’s men. You seem like a man of honor. Leave now, forget this ever happened, and I’ll spare your life” I tell him.
“Kill him! Kill him now!” The sword screams in my head.
He looks at the sword in my hand, weighing his options. I can see the will to live in his eyes, but his damned ‘training’ might still get him killed.
“The sword stays with me… now go.” I tell him.
He takes one more look at me and one more look at his former companions, one lifeless, the other now convulsing on the ground. Each with pools of blood growing slowly beneath them. He turns around and walks out without another word.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” the sword asks angrily.
“Like I said… He’s a man of honor, and he wont forget this. He’ll be back… with more people to kill.”
I sit down, and I wait… | Pt. 1
​
The sound of metal dinging resonates throughout the workshop. *These are some nice acoustics*, I think to myself. The sound of my work always helps me keep my tempo, and this new workshop I’ve moved into sounds great. Creaking of wood and rusty metal followed by a chorus of footsteps interrupts the beat. My first customers! *Reminder: Oil the shop door hinge.*
Settling into the foyer of the shop, the party of six plate-metal wearing warriors murmur and whisper amongst themselves. They speak mostly of the state of the village where I now reside, which is destitute. No more than a couple hundred souls, and they were in desperate need of a new blacksmith, with the old one being killed in a recent bandit raid and all. One knight wearing a kettle helmet with a full face mask and a chainmail coif approaches me and removes the helmet. A bit taller than I, he is also stockier with dirty blonde hair, and pleasant facial features that just screamed of noble birth. The ten thousand crown helmet screamed that too, I know gold filigree when I see it.
“Fair day blacksmith. I, Captain Reginald and the Order of Borseach requests your services in repair of our armor and weapons. We would have travelled further to a larger town, but the poor condition of our equipment dictates we seek immediate mending.” *God, even the way he speaks screams noble.*
“Very well, I’ll be able to start and soon as you’ve had a chance to dress down. I haven’t hired help yet, so fixing for six men might take me a couple weeks.” Giving a quick glance to his party members, I can see it’ll definitely take that long, if not longer. One warrior is missing an arm, his other clutching a sword in a scabbard so tight he is shaking slightly. Others have major cracking with some deep dents in their armor. “Where did you guys just come in from? It seems like you boys have been through hell.”
“We were conducting a raid in Gurat’Fal, by order of his Majesty, the King.” Oh, what a lovely place, said the chills going up my spine. The Abyss, not too far away from this village, about a 2-day ride on horseback. Definitely a factor in choosing to move here, but money is money, and there was plenty to be made here.
\*\*\*
The warriors had left the shop to find lodging in one of the two taverns in town. Their captain left a note instructing the order of priority I’ll be working by. They laughed when I said a month to fix when I fully examined the damage. *“The King’s smith could do it in half the time!”* the one armed warrior boasted. I’m sure he could, but that fucker gets paid a salary, while I’m here raking their ass over the coals with what I’ll charge them.
Sorting through the equipment and laying them out in order by which I’ll fix them, I find the sword that the one-armed warrior was clutching not on the list. I flip the note to see an addendum on the other side. “Sir Kaihun requested you repair this as well. I didn’t include it in the list since a small village smith such as you couldn’t possibly know how to fix it.” The sheath is plain hide, from which animal I did not know. The hilt is decorated in an unorthodox fashion, unlike any other I’d seen. Picking it up and gripping the handle, the finger grooves under the bound hide wrapping feel off. The cross-guard and pommel are carved from a stone I did not recognize. The weight is perfectly balanced, but it almost feels like it wants to be forward heavy. The desire to swing and chop at something, anything, crawls into my mind like a parasite. I pull the scabbard off to reveal a double-edged longsword made of ivory, serrated from hilt to the point on both sides. There are etchings into every inch along the surface of the blade, all of them unfamiliar. *I should have paid more attention to that Runes and Glyphs book when I was apprenticing.* I inspect it closely to find no damage or indication there ever was any.
Staring at it too long intensifies the feeling of crawling under my skin to the point it is unbearable. I quickly go to sheath it when I hear the faintest of whispers. “Hello?” I call out, with no response. A quick check reveals an empty workshop, not even anybody passing by outside. I grab an extra sheet of cloth to wrap the sword in its sheath and bind it with twine. I stow it in a weapon cabinet next to the pieces I already crafted since I’ve gotten here. *Out of sight, out of mind*. I swear I hear a faint whisper again as I close the cabinet door, sending another chill down my spine. | 2021-09-25T10:56:45 | 2021-09-25T10:02:45 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] Some planets have vast storages of mana, allowing its inhabitants to use magic. It's is belived that civilizations can only reach advanced technologies like flight trough the use of magic. Until the aliens meet the humans. | "First Magi, what do you make of this?" The captain waved at the scans before them. The First magi's ears two sets of eyes blinked simultaneously and his mouth twisted in consternation. "This is impossible Captain, someone must have falsified these."
The captain's nostril slits flared and his top eyes narrowed while his bottom set widened, his mouth forming the words slowly and carefully. "Seven different magi have said the same, twelve different science officers have verified these results. Ensign." and with a word the scans showed multiple times, always the same just timestamped differently. The first Magi's eyes all blinked simultaneously again, this time though his jaw dropped with them.
The captain watched and waited for the response, the mage seemed to have become frozen in time. After a few moments he nodded "My colleagues are in agreement. Even though the schematic is impossible that many scans can't be falsified."
The captain nodded "I agree, the question is what do we do next? Your advice has always been invaluable, though I know this is far beyond the usual scope."
The mage nodded "We have never shyed from learning and to do so now would be fool hardy. We should track the source of this and investigate it's origin."
"NavMage set course for coordinates 8U-77U-653."
"...Coordinates set, arrival time estimated at 7 shifts." Of course he couldn't keep the trepidation out of his voice, that sector was unknown largely because of the lack of mana detected at it's edge. Nine planets orbiting a single yellow star, no sign of life detectable before now. But this, a machine and not just any machine one without a single component of mana to it. No tether leading to it's home world, no battery containing the very essence of life itself nothing.
Seven shifts later we were in unknown territory we scanned each planet as we passed. The crew was losing hope and interest and wondering what we were looking for as we found nothing once more. Worse the Magi were beginning to feel and act strange. A few had started to spout nonsense, others had become violent. The First Magi had given orders to cut all mindtouch work until more information was discovered. As we came closer to the third planet from the sun though things degenerated further, at first I thought my top mage had succumed to that same madness. He began to speak of things even less possible then the machine we had discovered. Still he was coherent in his thoughts and descriptions, he gave an accounting of a history that no planet could possibly sustain. Then the scans came back. This little blue marble we were nearing was awash with mana, it had more then any planet we had ever seen. It could power so much that one could create a utopia. How could such a planet exist, mana was a resource, it built up certainly, every form of life supplied some. From the smallest blade of grass to the most complex of beings all generated mana. However that generation rarely equaled much less outstripped it's use.
Then the first mage calmed and whispered "They killed them all, they burned every knowledge, there was nothing left." His nostril slits sealed shut and he began mourning, deep breaths through the mouth, visible but inaudible. I could not interrupt this no matter my curiosity this was "Sel Kir Fren" a sign of the greatest loss. So I let him mourn. He would tell me what he mourned later, for now we needed to know more of this place.
"NavMage, set us in orbit, minimize any mana use until we can ascertain how locals would respond to sharing." The NavMage didn't respond but the ship did. I suddenly realized the true danger we were in. The NavMage was one with the ship and I thought it protected him from this malaise, but if it didn't...
24 shifts later First Magi moved, he kneeled down pressing his palm to this ship. "Captain, we should leave." The first words from him after his mourning were to abandon this place. I hadn't known true fear in a long time. We had observed this species as best we could and found all of their works were purely mechanical or as they called it "scientific". Magic was a myth here a thing that people told children of to give them a sense of wonder. Yet they lived and more importantly their planet still held mana, surely someone could use the magic on this place.
"First Magi, I have always respected your advice and valued your friendship but this place is unique in the universe. A planet with such a surplus of mana and a species not using it. Surely that warrants investigation and a report home."
The mage then looked up at me from his knelt position. "That mana is why we must leave. It is tainted, it's power excessive it's generation massive. Our lesser trained mages are being flooded with it even from here."
"Flooded with it? I was told mages only drew mana willingly are the subordinates trying to draw on it for some working?"
"No Captain, it isn't that and you were only trained in basics, this is...different. Even High Mages are rarely taught this, but mana flows freely and chaotically, mages draw on and shape it. It is well it is like a river and we stand on the banks of it pulling what we need. That planet though, it is not a river, it is not a sea, it isn't even an ocean. This is more like standing on a planet of pure water and trying not to get wet. Those of us trained enough can form a raft and prevent it, those not..."
"They fall in and don't even know how to swim. Alright, how far do we need to be to protect them. This is still an important find and if we could draw on this safely it would be"
The mage rose to his full height grabbed my shoulders his eyes staring into them "NO! It isn't just the amount that effects them if it was we could stay and observe, they would simply need to burn off what they accrue. These waters are stagnant and malicious. The mana here it was used once, it formed into actual species, creatures Made of Pure Life Energy, the species you observe now, the one who builds these abominations of steel and thunder, they slaughtered all but the most tenacious and even those barely exist. I can feel them if I reach for the power, they hide in shadows and darkness, the mana slips into dreams and minds. However it wants to be used once more, It wants vengeance for it's children, if we stay and draw on this power it will warp and twist us, we will become as bad if not worse then the creatures that walk this world."
I removed his hands slowly and carefully fearful that any sudden movement might upset him further. "First Magi, please calm yourself, surely it can not be that bad. Mana does not have a will that is why we have mages to shape it. You are rattled from such an unexpected scenario. I am putting you on temporary rest, return to your quarters in a few days..." I paused for a moment, days I knew what it meant though I shouldn't and then corrected myself "65 shifts I will come and ask if you still feel this way and we will go from there."
The First Magi gave me a strange look and then his body made a movement I'd never seen before, it shook all over even as he stood still as if his skin itself wished to vibrate off. I had never seen such a reaction in my species and it shook my resolve but as Captain it was my call and we needed to learn more. | "Thus it is to our imperative strategic and economic benefit that we..._acquire_...these resources as soon as possible."
"By-"
A hand raised.
"Any-"
Two more too stood so proud.
"Means-"
Nine, _nine_, more have joined the salute.
"_Necessary_."
The last four too, but as proudly, gave their euphoric approval.
The Chairman of the Gaian Republic Federal Council smiled with euphoria wild in his greedy amber eyes.
///
The Command Chambers of the GRFN _Legatus_ was brazenly with activity as the orders were received. The Astral-Helsmen's arms danced around multiple hardlight control panels with their superhuman fingers. All the while, officers of myriad ranks and roles debated about which exact strategy at which exact phase was to be implemented. Glasses of whiskey and rolls of Cuban Solar Republican cigars exchanged hands as much as battle plans did ears.
The Fleet Admiral in her Command Module overlooked the entire scene with her cybernetic eyes. Her seat was less an office chair and more a cybernetical throne of highest grade transparent Nanite-Armor rippling with live and constantly active and glowing sapphire-hued communication tabs.
Her irises too glowed blue, just like her real ones did. Her appearance belied her old appearance. Despite being over a century old, her wrinkle free skin and youthful smiles would have you guess mere of her age thanks to genetic modification, nanomachines and cybernetical skeletons.
Which also made her a lethal exterminator should she must personally fight. In multiple campaigns, she would equip her power Armour and personally lead the final assaults on major strategic objectives. There is a strange rumor however, that she sometimes sadistically smile during the eradication. A shallow rumor, no doubt.
"Wait, but Fleet Admiral?"
The flag officer, five golden stars proud on shoulders, turned her head. Her obsidian and golden-trim officer uniform slightly fluttered as she did so. Cybernetic oceanic irises and blonde hair bristled as her head rotated left.
A captain, by the look on of the golden eagle upon his obsidian and golden-trim shoulder suggested, stood at attention to her left.
"At ease," the soldier broke his salute, "You may ask your question".
"What of the sapient aliens already on these planet's surfaces?" he asked.
"Do not worry. Their technological and magical-equivalents are at best 22nd century at the worst of times."
The soldier than broke his salute and began to go slack. Suddenly, he began to furiously sweat as his face became a living faucet. With the experience of horrid, gory war, he calmed himself almost immediately and stood at attention.
"I know ma'am, but what about the innocent lives we are about to eradicate?" he replied as he slowly began to approach her.
_tap, tap_
"If these xenos must die for humanity's benefit, and there is no way for humanity to _acquire_ mana but to kill them so be it. A necessary sacrifice." She replied in a rather monotone fashion.
"How many trillions will die for us?" the captain began to walk faster.
_tap tap tap_
"..."She closed her eyes in contemplation before answering:
"As many as it is necessary."
_tap tap tap tap_
"The collective millions, if not _billions_, of years of history. The mass genocides of these peo-"
_he was only 3 meters to her seat!_
The captain began to choke in midair for a good minute, before he was gently let down with his limbs in the position of a salute.
The flag officer's irises never left the captain's ever shaking face the whole time. Her gaze was as of marble. Pale. Unfazed.
Without any hesitation or doubt.
"Soldier."
The Lieutenant stood at attention.
"Look at me."
He did so.
"Noticed something different?"
"Other than the telekinesis, no ma'am."
"Well, look at my face, notice what's different about it?"
He took in a good look. And yes...
There certainly _are_
Her face was no longer middle aged, but was around that of a young adult. So youthful infact, that she may even pass for a late teenager. At a closer look, she stood more proud than _ever_ before in his decade of service under this woman. Blonde tassels bounced in the air with previously unseen youth and health.
Her face softened further as she forced him to bend a knee much like a knight pledging his oath to his queen. She then teleported off her seat and in front of him, where she mirrored his form and laid her arm over his shoulder and neck.
"Captain. Look at me, please," Fleet Admiral Morgenrote asked him.
The captain obeyed, and drilled his gaze into hers.
"With the power of Mana, we can live virtually _forever_. Our top scientists estimate that with Mana, the average human can live without any mental or physical illness or disability, for _50,000 years_, assuming no cybernetic or genetic enhancements."
The captain's spirit was unshaven and his gaze reflected his flame. His superior on the otherhand further softened her alabaster face.
"There is enough mana within a single one of these planets, for not only every single human to be cured of illness, but to have their absolute maximum lifespan extended four times over." The Fleet Admiral took his hands into her own. "The average person lives 250 years, Captain Andrews. And roughly 80 of those years, the so called 'golden years' of retirement, is spent in pain. Cybernetics and genetic enhancement can only go so long. Telemere reparations have a hard limit, and the chance of failure is north of 90% with fatal results."
She lifted them up with her will and continued to face the Captain.
"But with Mana. With Magic, combined with technology, they can live not only atleast four times longer, but also _spend 98.7% of their lives in the prime of youth_. For every single person alive."
"..." The Captain resumed his Salute near his formal position, before being teleported back to her Command Module.
He resumed his salute once more.
"..."
"Now Captain. Let me put it this way. We are the sword that shall fall upon them."
"Permission to speak freely?"
"Of course."
"To be honest Fleet Admiral, that does not help. But thanks for trying."
"Let me change the metaphor abit then. Do guns go around shooting people?"
"...no."
"Why not? Afterall, guns are lethal objects and tools of death that interstellar crime syndicates levy to terrorize millions."
"Well yes but, as you said they are _objects and tools_. Guns are needed to be picked up, aimed, and fired by individuals or AI made by individuals with the intent to subdue if not kill."
"Exactly. We are the the guns. It is the politians that are the hands holding the guns. So, have a free conscience."
"...I see. Makes _some_ sense I suppose...?"
"Dismissed. You have the next 36 hours off. And of course, we can discuss this further should you desire to do so. _Within your free time and not my Command Chambers_."
"Of course Fleet Admiral. My apologies."
"Go," the Captain then saluted off and existed the Commander Chambers.
As the doors opened and closed shut, a information panel revealed the hidden chart.
**NOTE, MANY MAGICAL WORLDS ARE ANCIENT ECUMENOPOLI. MANA IS IMPOSSIBLE HARVEST IN SUCH WORLDS DUE TO SOULS SAPPING THEM FOR THEIR HOST'S EVERGROWING LIFEFORCE STORAGE.**
**RECOMMENDED ACTION: ERADICATION BY PLANETARY BOMBARDMENT**
**INPUTED COMMAND: ERADICATION BY BOMBARDMENT**
**TARGETS: 15,500 PLANETS WITHIN THE CECELIA NEBULA.**
**ESTIMATED CASUALTIES: 48,900,000,000,000**
**COMMAND: EXECUTE AUTHORITY OMEGA-MAJOR**
**COMMAND TERMINAL RECOGNIZES YOUR EA. STRATEGIC FORECAST SHALL BE SENT TO ALL NAVEL ASSETS UNDER COMMAND AFTER MESSAGE HAS BEEN FINALIZED**
**COMMAND TERMINAL NOTICES THAT 14,000 OF THESE PLANETS DO NOT HAVE MANA, AND THUS IS UNIMPORTANT TO MISSION DIRECTIVES. SHOULD IT BE REMOVED FROM OPERATION PARAMETERS?**
**EA OMEGA-MAJOR INPUTS:NO**
**COMMAND TERMINAL DEMANDS REASON FOR SUCH DRASTIC USE OF RESOURCES**
**EA OMEGA-MAJOR INPUTS: STRATEGIC PRE-EMPTIVE STRIKE TO ELIMINATE FUTURE COMPETITORS FOR MANA ACQUISITION**.
**PROCESSING...**
**PROCESSING...**
**PROCESSING...**
**THE HIGH COMMAND AND ALL OTHER RELEVANT AUTHORITIES HAS APPROVED OF YOUR OPERATIONAL REQUESTS. RESOURCES WILL BE ALLOCATED AS NEEDED**
**AUTHENTICITY CODE: ALPHA ROMEO ECHO TANGO 556**
**EXECUTE AUTHORITY: ZENITH**.
"...Yes. For the preservation of our peaceful pure stars. A human galaxy."
Her face twisted in sheer bliss and euphoria thankfully hidden by the Command Module.
"Let's see how many I get to kill this time! The Geneva Convention was not signed by any filthy ET slime."
Her entire body trembled from the shaking that her stifled giggles made.
"...for our peaceful and **PURE** galaxy~."
"Glory to Mankind." | 2021-10-06T18:35:41 | 2021-10-06T13:39:20 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] You are a serial killer, and you are nearly finished digging a hole for your latest victim when you hear steps approaching from the dark. Ready for anything, you shine your flashlight, gun at the ready, to see...another killer carrying another body. | I liked Mercy, she didn't scream in the beginning but breaking, oh breaking her was fun. Burns didn't do much until I started with my blowtorch, shame really, she had beautiful feet. If only she had screamed earlier, but then again, breaking her was the fun part. She was my longest girlfriend. And in the end, it was me who got tired, she was still fighting. Break-ups were easy, just one swift stroke of blade and silence.
~
I looked at photos, deciding on my new victim as the smell of iron wafted up to me. I usually liked it, but it had been over a day and Mercy would begin to smell and I cannot let my neighbours be suspicious. To them, I was a hard-working blue-collared individual. One hard blow to the lower spine and she became foldable. I placed her in my relationship-ender suitcase. It was the one I used after all my break-ups. Clean-up was next after packing. Power-washing tools were truly a god-sent. It made break-ups easier. As the smell of bleach filled my nostrils, I let out an annoyed breath but reminded myself that soon, soon I would have a new girlfriend and soon the familiar iron scent will the pores of this room.
~
I never dumped the bodies in the same place. Never the same M.O. as the cops would say. Why make it easier for them? They weren't paid for easy, were they? Besides, I liked having girlfriends. Maybe one day, when I'm bored of the girls, I'll play with the cops. I grinned thinking of one of the pictures, she was a cop, beautiful too but not the next girlfriend, that pleasure went to the women I regularly saw on the subway. She seemed tough, maybe she'll be as great as Mercy.
~
The woods were never quiet. It was part of the thrill, you never knew who come running. I placed the suitcase down and started to dig. It wasn't until I crossed 3 feet that I heard the first rustle. I dismissed it, it was probably an animal. Another sound, but this was definitely human, I froze. I hurried out of the grave and took out my gun. I didn't like to use guns, I liked blades- they provided a little personal touch. But necessary evil and all especially in my line of work.
I dragged the suitcase with me and hid a safe distance behind a tree, gun raised.
"Oh my, will you look at that!" Someone cried with joy. Another man, a rug over his shoulder. "Beginners luck. First time disposing a body and hole has already been dug!"
Well, that wasn't something you ran into everyday. I watched as the man rolled out the rug and I waited for the person to appear but nothing.
"Oh honey, I liked you but the next one is better." He said, not an ounce of sorrow in his voice. I looked closely and saw a small lifeless body in his arms.
I never thought I would use the phrase righteous anger, I mean I was a serial killer after all, but the sight of kid's lifeless body shot a bolt of red-hot anger within me. I was a monster, I knew that but kids, I let out a calming breath, kids were out of question. This motherfucker was going to die, he just didn't know it yet. | He was gorgeous. I saw clear, pale skin that shone in the moonlight, dark curls of a colour I couldn't quite make out in the darkness lay on his face, framing it in an almost regal halo. And that's not even mentioning his cheekbones—they were as high and as regal as can be. And his *eyes*...they were...*indescribable*.
Deep blue blue *blue* eyes stared at me, speckled with the colour of the shiny galena mineral that I had in his pocket.
"Hello?" The gorgeous man said, his voice deep and velvety. *Holy shit*.... Even his *voice* was perfect!
The man gazed at the body that I was about to dump into the hole, and then he looked back onto his own. He grinned, looking amused.
"Does that hole of yours have room for any more?" He said, his words dripping with sarcastic amusement.
***
"Soooo, " I said awkwardly, my hands in the pocket of my thin grey jacket. I was shivering. Was it cold out, or was it the proximity of the other man next to me? "My name is Aspen. What's your name?"
"I'm Malik. It's a pleasure to meet you, especially considering we share the same hobby."
The gorgeous man—no, *Malik* stared at me, enthralled. I had no idea what he was looking at. I was rather plain looking with my messy short black hair, soft and slightly tan skin, and small and skinny figure that didn't masculine but also not very feminine. I barely reached this man's chest. He had to be over six feet at least! My male pride would have been butchered if I was anyone else. But I wasn't, and so it wasn't.
The only real interesting thing about me were my eyes. They were a very light shade of grey, light enough to be described as silver, especially in the light. But my eye colour didn't discount the rest of me. I was just a normal person. Other than my side hobby at least.
I looked at Malik, studying him. He was just as gorgeous as he was half an hour ago, before he helped me bury the bodies. His clothes were dusty from the dirt, but so were mine. Somehow, he was still beautiful like this. But looking at him now...something was odd.
His eyes were inhumanely bright, his skin was too pale, and his ears were a little long. And his teeth were pointy. As if...they were fangs....
My eyes widened. He couldn't be.....
I pinpointed the exact moment Malik realized I knew. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips quirked down. "Ah. I see. So you've noticed.... Yes, I am—"
"—part demon," I finished.
"—Part—ah, yes...I'm a demon, " he coughed, looking away from me sadly. "So, I suppose you want me to—"
"What??? No!" I yelled, grabbing onto his arm. "I don't care!"
Malik looked at me like I was stupid. "I *kill* people as a side job. Only those who've hurt me or others, but still, how could I care about you *supposedly* being a "bloodthirsty" monster? I don't care! Not all demons are bad. I used to have a friend that was a demon and she was great! I haven't seen her since I was a kid, unfortunately, but not all demons are bad! I don't care that everyone hates you guys!"
I was completely genuine. I really didn't care. Yes, people normally hate demons, but demons were people too! So I didn't care what he was. I wanted him as my friend! I don't have any fellow murderer friends.
But...he'll probably think I'm an idiot. There's no way he would ever—
"Aspen, will you go out on a date with me?!" Malik blurted, looking at me determinedly. It...it was kind of cute.
Oh, who was I kidding? It was completely *adorable*. It was almost frightening.
It suddenly computed in my brain exactly what he meant and I'm sure I blushed so hard that it went down to my neck. I knew what I was going to say.
"Yes."
***
I sat in bed lazily, languishing in Malik's arms like a lazy cat. His arms were wrapped around me, and my head was on his chest. The blanket was barely covering us. The sun shined through the blinds and onto Malik's face. He looked ethereal.
I was so happy. These past few years were the happiest I've ever been. I grinned, staring at the right on my finger. I made a great decision by saying yes that day. | 2021-12-14T19:50:36 | 2021-12-14T19:20:42 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] The three rules have been passed down from generation to generation: One, when it visits, do not refuse it entry. Two, when it offers a gift, do not reject its generosity. Three, when it leaves, do not turn your back until it is no longer in sight. In this way, our family has been kept safe. | I have told my kids not to be scared, that it is nothing to be scared about. But it is their first time, they'll learn, they have to.
A knock echoes through the silent room and everyone except me jumps. I look at my wife and tell her silently to be strong.
I paste a huge smile on lips, if I'm being honest it's not hard, given the amounts of time I've met *it* it almost feels like meeting an old friend. When I open the door I see it's face, a sweet smile on its face.
"Hey, Olly." It says with all the warmth of an old friend.
I welcome it inside. Introducing it to my family. Its' gaze stops at my youngest daughter for a second before moving away.
"So how have you been?" It asks accepting the glass of water my wife offers. "You got married, that's awesome. Congratulations!"
"Thank you. It has been a long time after all." I answer leaning back in my chair. I didn't even pretend to be relaxed because I was. I knew if we follow the rules nothing will happen.
"Yeah, last I saw you you were 18." It laughed.
We reminisced about the good old days when its' gaze lands back on my youngest daughter. My heart skips a beat but I tell myself that I have taught them everything and they can handle it.
"Hey, sweetie, what's your name?" It asks.
"Mia." She answers and there is just a little bit fear in her voice, and I couldn't be prouder of her.
It smiles. "How old are you, Mia?"
She looks at me, when I nod she answers. "Ten."
"That's a great age, Mia." It says as it pulls something out of its' bag.
I try to tell my daughter to remember not to refuse the gift but she never looks at me. She is looking at the gift enchanted. She moves closer to it and it smiles.
"This is someone very special for a very special girl." It says raising the gift towards Mia.
"It's a black and white cookie." Mia asks amazed.
"It is. And it will never go bad."
"Really?"
"Really. You just have to remember to eat alternate bites of it. You see white part will make your day happy and black will make your days sad."
Mia frowned. "But why would I want sad days?"
"Because-" It took a deep breath- "without sadness one doesn't know the value of joy. For a person to be happy, a person needs to be sad."
"Like without homework we don't get ice cream."
It chuckled. "Exactly like that, sweetie. It's a gift. Go on, take it."
I hold my breath for a moment waiting for the polite decline but it doesn't come.
"Thank you." Mia accepts happily.
Taking a relieved breath we sit and chat about happily. It isn't until a few hours later that it gets up to leave. We all line about, waving it goodbye, not turning back and locking the door till it's out of sight.
As soon as it is out of sight, I could feel the tension ebb away.
"Dad, you never said Life would be this cool. Scary but cool." | There was a soft clattering as the plane lurched again through the turbulence. The young girl to my left was looking sickly.
The intercom crackled to life. “Hi folks, a bit of bad news from the flight deck. We are having a minor mechanical issue with the aircraft, and we will be returning back to Dulles. Once we’re on the ground we will be able to help everyone, uh, find another flight--”
The intercom turned off abruptly and a collective groan emanated from the passengers. The intercom came back on, and the pilot said in a rush: “We do apologize for the inconvenience.”
The plane gave another lurch and began banking to the left. A man in a brown blazer was walking unsteadily down the aisle. He stopped at my left and pointed to the empty window seat next to me.
“May I sit there?” he asked.
“Well my, erm, friend is sitting there, she’s just in the restroom.” The word “friend” felt strange to describe Sarah. This was my ex-wife after all, and I’d hardy consider us friends these days. But I wasn’t about to give this guy my life story.
“Oh I just want to sit there a minute to look outside. I’ll move when your friend comes back.” I hesitated for a moment, then said “sure”, and got up to let him pass. He squeezed past the girl (who didn’t get up, but merely tucked her legs up into her seat).
The man sat down and peered intently out the window. I had to admit, I was curious too.
Can you see something out there?” I asked.
“No, not really,” he said, still looking out the window, his hands cupped around the sides of his face to block light from the cabin.
“I’m a pilot, actually,” the man said, turning toward me. “I fly for the airline, I’m just filling a free seat today.”
“Oh, cool.” I said. “So when they say ‘mechanical issue’, what do you think they mean?”
He shrugged. “Could be anything.”
The plane lurched again, but much more violently this time.
“Holy –” I started to say when the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling. The plane started to descend rapidly. A flight attendant scurried past to the back of the plane, yelling over the cries of fear from the passengers. “Masks on! Masks on!”
I grabbed the yellow cup in front of me and pulled on it. It came clean out of the ceiling, and a heap of tubing fell into my lap.
“What the fuck?” I said in horror.
The man next to me already had his mask on. The young girl to my left was curled up in a ball and hadn’t done anything. She must have been flying alone. The man looked me in the eye.
“Let me help you,” he said. He reached across and grabbed the mask hanging in front of the girl’s seat and pulled it towards me, trying to slip it over my face.
“Hang on, wait!” I said. We can’t just take her mask.
“Please,” the man said firmly. “Let me help you.” I swallowed. And I let him slip the mask over my face.
The plane continued in what felt like freefall for a few more terrifying minutes, then we finally seemed to level off. The man next to me pulled off his mask.
“We’ll be low enough now, we don’t need the mask.” He said. I looked to my left and saw the girl, who looked unconscious.
“I’m going to go up front and see if I can help,” said the man, and I squeezed my legs aside as he pushed past. The girl’s legs flopped a little as the man bumped against them on his way out.
I stared at the man’s back as he worked his way up the aisle. And I was careful not to look away until he was gone.
Then I looked around for Sarah, but I didn’t see her anywhere. I looked through the dark window. It looked like we were extremely close to the ground. There was suddenly the sound of pattering against metal, like something was hitting the bottom of the fuselage. Then I was thrown against the seat in front of me and blacked out.
\* \* \*
I awoke with a terrible headache and the antiseptic smell of a hospital filling my nostrils. A nurse was next to me, fiddling with a machine.
“Hey,” I said, and found that my voice was barely a rasp.
“Mr. Irving, you’re awake,” she said.
“What happened…?” I croaked.
“You were in an airplane crash, Mr. Irvine. I’m afraid your ex-wife did not survive. In fact…” she hesitated. “In fact you were the sole survivor of the crash, Mr. Irving.” | 2022-01-06T10:19:49 | 2022-01-06T08:27:53 | 704 | 333 |
[WP] There is one Ironclad rule in the world: If you have powers, you are probably going to be a Hero or Villain. You have some extremely powerful abilities, but you said you never wanted to be a Hero. Now everybody is convinced you want to be a Villain, and won't stop trying to "save you from evil" | “Wh-what?” My mother stammered those words as she tripped backwards. Collapsed perhaps, was a better way to phrase it. Thankfully, my father was there to break her fall. However, deep inside a part of me wished he hadn’t been, because now the normally larger than life giant of a mother I had was eye level with me…and I could truly see how hurt she was.
“What do you mean, you don’t want to be a hero?” she gasped; her voice so soft the air practically tore through it.
I always knew this day would come, but I’d hoped it’d be in a more comfortable and intimate setting. Even though my mother deserved my full attention, I couldn’t help but steal glances around the room. At least two, no three hundred occupants were in attendance. All inhumanely quiet. So quiet, I could hear my own heart race. I’ve always hated large crowds, but it’s been clear to me for years now no cares for the opinions I have for my own life.
“Well, are you going to answer your mother?” My father chimed in, having finally propped my mother back up.
“I don’t know what there is to explain, I’ve told you repeatedly, I never wanted to be a hero.”
“Well yes, but I thought that was just a rebellious teenage phase!” He exclaimed, before glancing around and whispering to me “Heroism is what we do. Your mother, I, our parents, their parents. We serve an important role in this town. We’ve defended these people from undesirables for centuries”
But I never asked to be born into this responsibility, why can’t you understand that!...That’s what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. Instead, I glanced awkwardly at my own shoes. Like the coward I’ve always been. Me? A Hero? I had much safer, much more normal plans in mind, plans I’d be nervous to explain to them privately, much less in front of the whole town.
“You were just confused for a second, you do want to be hero don’t you” my father prompted. His voice had returned to its proud and loud tone. “Right? Hahahaha”
I continued to glance at my shoes, allowing the room to be swallowed by silence. The more silent it grew, the more interesting the curves and colors of my shoes became.
“Now this is no way to behave at a superpower reveal party! C’mon, let’s be jolly! Dave, stop harassing that girl on her special day. Let’s start slicing up that cake and figure out what this one’s power is!” | As his eyes scanned for an answer, the clock continued to slowly tick and pace along. Shallow breaths with droning murmurs emanated from the towering figure, He was hesitant about his next action. With his shoulders hunched forward a defeated sigh pushes through his teeth with a slight hiss. Then, he began to contemplate his next move.
"It's too much... I don't think-"
His thoughts raced before being interrupted by the chiming of a bell. Time was running short, and soon it would all be over.
"No... this is the best course to take... There is no going back once I've left this place..." He reached out with his hand and grasped at the object he desired. "This is for the best..."
The figure turns, dropping the bag of Lightly Salted: Original Style Crisps from the shelf into his basket amongst his sandwich. He stood, towering in his stained hoodie and wrinkled shorts looking at any last minute additions for his feast. The late night dinner run was coming to an end, and in five minutes the corner store was about to close up shop.
"Dammit. Did they move it again?" He whispered to himself, running his fingers through his brunet locks.
This was not your average man, but what you would call a N.E.H.V. Not in Employment, Heroism, Or Villainy. These were the dropouts, burnouts, and overall outcasts of "Supers". Some people are born with great powers, and go on to do great things. Others, find employment that synergizes with their powers and make a living. Unfortunately, there are those who are cursed for life depending on what power is thrusted upon them. Not all powers are equal, but most people seem to get by just fine. Even the ones who have no power at all. No one chose what they got, and no power chose what human they wound up in.
His hazel eyes scanned the back walls,
"Hmmm...Oh, They have it!" He grinned, trotting back to the fridge area.
A plethora of Beer, Soda, and Sports drinks illuminated by fluorescent bulbs covered the eastern wall. This store was the closest to his flat that stocked his favorite kind of beer: A light, refreshing lager that paired well with any salt-laden sustenance. There, he saw the last silver and golden tote stand alone and made a quick dash for the door. As the sound of flip-flops pattered across the tile, his joy caught the eyes of a stock-woman giving a slightly pitiful smile.
"Late night meal run, Callan? You know we close in a few minutes." She chuckled to herself.
Late nights at the convenience store were a habit for Callan. The only people around usually were the Shop-owner, her, and the occasional Biker or stoner passing through. This night, two night-goers had pulled up as the man and woman began to chat.
"Yeah," He said with a smile, opening up the glass door. "I see you're running out of the good stuff again, Kate."
The red haired girl scoffs and sets down the box of confectionaries. She had a pear build to her and was the same age as Callan.
"You know that stuffs the cheapest beer, and for good reason right?" Another chime from the entry door rings through the store, and two men in motorcycle helmets walk in, greeted by the shopkeeper. She continues: "It's nicknamed piss-water for a reason."
Callan bends forward and reaches in to grab the cardboard handle. "Yeah, who knew something so cheap could be so good? Sometimes you have to appreciate the little things in life, Kate. Besides, you never complained about drinking it back when we were in school." A grin flashes across his face as he turns to her, "Also, how would you know what piss even tastes like?"
She rolls her eyes, "Uhg... you're so gross. At least I'm not some N.E.H.V wasting my powers on-"
The sound of a chambered shogun shell cuts the sentence short. Callan and Kate's head snaps towards the west entrance, and the man punches a hole through the ceiling with 12 gauge buckshot.
\------- | 2022-10-04T19:36:26 | 2022-10-04T19:20:03 | 178 | 94 |
[WP] There is one Ironclad rule in the world: If you have powers, you are probably going to be a Hero or Villain. You have some extremely powerful abilities, but you said you never wanted to be a Hero. Now everybody is convinced you want to be a Villain, and won't stop trying to "save you from evil" | The door rattled before a knock came. Instinct kicked in.
"Try to bless me and I will send you to your maker."
Feet sprinted away from the door as I relaxed and sipped on my tea. Why is this happening to me? It's been two years since my powers manifested, and I declared neutrality. Everyone took it to mean that I was going to stab them in the back sooner or later, and kept trying to help me.
It's not working. It's doing the opposite. Every time they try to help my hatred and rage grows; even when I tell them this, they're convinced it's just the evil inside me winning. There is no binary of good versus bad. It's all muddy, and now I've got metaphorical trench foot.
On the morrow I leave this damned place. I never was one for the adventurer's life, and the scars I'd accumulated from dragon slaying still hurt. My plan is to sneak out in the dead of night, escape several dozen miles away, and live in a shack in the woods.
To my former comrades; I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you and risk you following me. To the church; damn you all. To whoever finds this note; burn it. Please.
Exile is the only future I can see.
*- Excerpt from a note attached to a bounty board, WANTED DEAD - 500G REWARD* | My name is Naomi Gallagher, and I live in a world full of powers. Everyone born in this world was usually born with a power, I’m no different, but my power is not really for one side or the other.
I call my power, Null and Void, basically I have a small area around me that, as soon as any power is activated or is used inside the area, it is completely shut off until it dissipates or the powers owner leaves my area.
Everyone at my school all want to become heroes thanks to their powers, otherwise you’ll be labeled as a villain. That’s not for me though, I was just wanting to lead a somewhat normal life.
That’s why I want to figure out how exactly I ended up in the current situation where I was being held as a hostage in a villain’s rampage of my city.
Naomi could feel their power currently nullifying the villains paralytic touch since he had his hand around their throat, but Naomi just sat there with a disinterested look on their face. Their lips turned into a deep frown as three heroes surrounded the villain.
“Give us the hostage Paralizard.” A heroine in a sleek black skintight costume called as she pulled at the fabric.
A hiss from the villain Paralizard, stupid name honestly, let Naomi know there wasn’t a chance they would be getting released.
“Never you s-s-scum.” He hissed, and Naomi couldn’t really care less what happened, it wasn’t like they were in any immediate danger. “This girl here is my ticket to escaping this fight, my paralysis has already affected her!”
Naomi’s eye twitched and the hero to the left of the villain, Socket, saw this and chuckled under their breath.
Did this creep seriously just misgender us, just because we have on girls clothes today didn’t mean we’re fully a girl. Naomi growled in their head as, without thinking, they reared their leg forward and swung it back hard, right into the villains private rental room.
Both heroes winced in pain as well, as Paralizard released Naomi and cupped his jewels.
Paralizard looked up at Naomi in a haze of pain and tried to speak and ask something, but Naomi shrugged.
“It’s my power idiot, other powers are useless against me.” They said flipping the villain off and starting to walk away.
They didn’t get very far before the heroine walked over and clasped their shoulder.
“That was very brave, your power would make you a great hero!” She exclaimed.
Naomi growled and shrugged the hand off, and whirled on the heroine, “I don’t care about being a hero, and I couldn’t give two jacks about becoming a villain, so just leave me alone.” They finished and stalked away. | 2022-10-04T17:10:27 | 2022-10-04T12:27:12 | 177 | 116 |
[WP] "The League of Super Heroes can't help but notice," said their representative, "that certain corporations have a say in which supers the government determines are heroes and which are villains. A large say. The League has determined this is not an acceptable arrangement any longer." | The representative stood just on the other side of the reinforced glass, her long dark evening coat draped to the sides of her slender figure that was just as plain as the way she spoke.
"The League of SuperHeroes can't help but notice,"—she
Said before readjusting her glasses—"that certain corporations have a say in which supers the government determines are heroes and which are villains. A large say. The League has determined this is not an acceptable arrangement any longer."
“And pray tell, what does this have to do with me?” He didn’t bother to stand from his velvet tufted chair. Instead, he sat back and continued to read his book pausing only long enough to respond.
“I have been a thorn in the side of those ‘corporations’ for some time now. Argus, Line Corp, Heroshema, and I have an extensive history.”—He couldn't help but wonder what was going on— “What do they want with me now? Another victory lap? Or perhaps a photo op to raise more funds?”
There was a tap on the glass followed by A loud electric buzz as the motorized door slid open. He almost rose from his seat out of instinct but managed to resist the urge.
“You're free to go.” She said plainly.
“Free to go?” he asked, his voice raised slightly, “Ten years of being hunted like a dog, two years of hiding! and you're letting me go after just six months in prison?” He was beginning to enjoy the quiet change of pace of running his operation from the shadows.
“Oh well,” He placed his book on his lap and crossed his legs. She had his full attention “Halloween is a way off my dear, it’s quite improper to be playing tricks this early in the month.”
“There is no trick, I assure you,” she said before stepping through the doorway,”—She glanced around the room, taking in the refind furniture that seemed to belong more in a library or psychologist's office than a prison cell.
“We’ve reviewed your file and nothing you’ve done raises to the level of villainy...
While your tactics may be -- unethical, You’ve caused no casualties and you’ve never caused more than 10.000 dollars worth of damages to public or city property. A better record than many of the ‘heroes’ that are free to roam the streets.”
“If you’re going to lie to me, do try and be more convincing.” He wagged a finger, “If setting me free was the true goal of the League they would have done it without sending a representative to me. Especially one so poorly disguised.”
The woman's face began to contort as her skin changed from an olive tone to a light blue.
“I suppose nothing much get’s past you does it?” She asked now using her normal voice.
“I’ve studied every member of the League just as much as they’ve studied me.” He explained, “I recognized that face, You used it once before, haven't you? Five years ago when you infiltrated The Syndicates network.” —he rose from his seat and looked her in the eye—“Now tell me, what are you really here for?”
Instead of answering his question verbally, she gently reached out and connected their two minds.
*Can’t talk here. Ears elsewhere. I'll tell you on the way.* | A stunned silence hung in the air after the announcement, as the UN ambassadors tried to form the words to respond. The man lounging on the chair before then, studied them, no emotions on his face beyond a lazy smirk.
As shock turned to anger, one of the ambassadors finally found her tongue. “You think you can just walk in here with an announcement like that? You of all people? You hypocrite-”
“What she means,“ another ambassador cut in abruptly, “Is that your own company of Millenium Mechanics has worked with the UN on… superhuman issues.”
Annoyance briefly flashed on the man’s face, before the smirk arrived again. “But MillMech has never tried to affect policy. On the other hand…”
A holo-screen blazed to life before the council, a list of names running along it.
The man got off the chair and strolled alongside it, as if he was giving a lecture.
“Hun Communications is owned by Mogul Khan.
Lammergeier owns Vulture Ventures.
Rakshasi owns DemonTime.
Oceanic Solutions is owned by Dauphin.”
The council starts shifting uncomfortably as they realize he is just beginning. Indeed, the man seems to be enjoying listing off these names.
“Flora Pharmaceuticals. Lotus.
Biotelemetrix. Necropsy.
Threadworks. Sir Skein.
Moonshift Intergalactic. Orrery.
New Su-“
“Millennium Mech is owned by Millennium.”
The voice cut through the room. Heads turned and a scream rang out.
A woman strolled out of the shadows. Unconcerned at the council’s looks of fear, the sneer the man shot at her.
“That’s you, in case you forgot. But that’s not all is it? Oh stop that!” She snapped at on the ambassadors. “You think those security buttons work?” She turned back to the man. “Nice speech, Millennium. You left out a couple there though.” She shot a wicked smile over the room.
“I thought I’d help you out.
Afterlife Unlimited. That’s owned by… Elysian right? She’s certainly not a supervillain.
And what about Infernal Inc. and TomorrowTech?”
The man replied, looking bored. “Millmech has never-“
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
One of the ambassadors had found her voice. She was pointing at the women with a shaky finger. “TAKE HER DOWN!”
The man rolled his eyes, and hawked a glob of spit at the woman. It sailed through her with a shimmer.
“Hologram. Not even the Malthorn is that stupid to show up here in person.”
The lady ignored his words. “MillTech would never interfere like this, certainly. But can you say the same about the others? Your… compatriots?”
The man was silent, and she jumped on the opportunity. “You see? Even your so called heroes cannot claim to be innocent. So if you want to want to ban these corporations, you should ban them all.”
“Then ban them all.” All heads turned to the man, even the lady looked surprised before smoothing her face over.
“She’s right. It doesn’t matter who owns them, hero or villain. So stop it all.
There was a silence, until a voice asked softly, “Can we leave now?”. The lady ignored them, starting at the man intently. The man looked back, giving a wave of acknowledgment to the council. There a scrape of chairs and a scramble to the door, until the room was empty, save the man and the lady.
She kept staring at him. “You… gave up on your allies rather quickly. I was expecting more of a fight.”
The man shrugged. “What can I say? You were right. That power cannot be abused.”
“Of course, which is why you were graced with my presence.” The woman replied smugly.
The man smiled back, more smugly, if that was possible. “Is that why you showed up right before I started listing all 47 of your corporations?”
The lady’s smile disappeared. She stared at the man, and slowly approached him.
“You might have won this, but make no mistake. One day I will win, and when I do, I’ll keep your head in a jar and make you watch your precious ideals get pissed on, I swear to you.“
Her image winked out, and the man was left alone in the room. He let out a sigh and sank into a nearby chair.
“You guys got a lock on that transmission? Alright, alert the rest of the Protectors. Looks like we got a job to do.” | 2022-10-07T06:56:39 | 2022-10-07T06:08:09 | 310 | 172 |
[WP] Two immortals have been duking it out for god knows how long and only now have they realised they have been fighting in the middle of a city | A phone rings.
Two men stand in the midst of a crumbled city.
‘Is that your bloody phone,’ enquired the rasping voice of a man in a black cloak.
‘Oh shit, hang on I need to pause, it’s the old ball and chain, if you know what I mean,’ replied the other man who wore a white cloak. His voice of rolling velvet.
‘Yes, I guess our battle could do with a water break, probably don’t want to miss that call aye.’
The man in white pulled an old flip phone, one of those slick looking early 00’s phones. The edgy ones with the bright colours.
‘Hello Margaret, what seems to be…’ he began to say as he was cut off with a grimace on his face. A few minutes later he closed the phone.
‘So?’ asked the man in black.
‘She says we are making a bit of a mess.’
The two men looked around.
‘Ah, I see,’ said the man in black. ‘Seems we have once again wiped out a good chunk of humanity. The curse of immortality.’
‘The curse of immortality,’ repeated the man in white. ‘It was a jolly good old scrap though.’
‘A duel for the ageless.’
The man in white nodded in agreement and looked perplexed in thought before he came up with a marvellous idea, ‘I say, should we get something to eat then?’
‘Yes, let’s see what’s around.’
The two men did in fact look around. Rubble. An eerie silence except perhaps the screams of mortals dying. Dogs yelping. Cats clawing. The dull aroma of dust and smoke.
‘It could have been worse,’ said the main in black.
‘Indeed. A shame really as this was a rather splendid battleground. Great atmosphere, good crowd’
‘A sporting lot, a few little obstacles to keep the game full of surprises. I bless the rebuild.’
‘The rebuild be blessed.’
The two men smiled, nodded gallantly and launched into the air like falcons in rewind. They flew many times faster than the speed of sound, shattering any glass and any ear not already ruptured by the great duel. From there they raced across the earth scorching everything beneath them until they came upon a bamboo forest and suddenly stopped.
‘I say good chap, it’s bean a while since I had Chinese,’ suggested man in white.
‘Ah yes, I could also go for that myself.’
The men landed gracefully next to a big furry ball of black and white happiness chewing on a bamboo branch. They both smiled a glorious smile, a very satisfied smile. | "Stop!!" Thor thunders, raising his palm to his enemy of the past hundred centuries.
Thunder roared from above. Not the kind brought on by a mixture of hot and cool air, but a deep crimson lightning, forced to break the clouds by Thor's impatience. The bolt shatters through the countless drops of rain before striking the ground before Thor, sending his enemy tumbling backwards.
His enemy, Anubis, The god of death; Bringer of the end; Baker of delectable cakes. Whatever his name was, he was for now at least, Thor's enemy.
“OW!! That hurt, you buffoon of Asgard!” he shouts, tending to his wounded tuckus.
“I did not stop for banter, tall dog” Thor roars, his voice mimicked by the striking bolts of crimson around them.
“I’m not a dog. I’m a GOD!. Got that!? G.O.D.” The baker of sweet treats replies. “Odin's beard, who taught you to spell?”.
A bolt strikes behind Thor. His silhouette looming over Anubis. “Bite your tongue mongrel! I’ll not have you bismerch my mother!”.
Moments of silence. Nothing but the patter of rain hitting the ground around them. Windows, Cars and blocks of stone that once belonged to quite a nice bakery litter the ground around them. For the first time in a hundred centuries, the pair's heated battle had simmered. Each taking their time to notice their surroundings for the first time their eyes split apart.
Their battle started on the desert of mars. A barren and rather wasteful portion of the solar system, the pair thought it would be a good place to host their battle. It would appear that, while spinning Anubis around, Thor had launched him towards earth. He had meant to throw him to the moon, but it was a little late to apologise to the scattered bones that now occupied the city.
“I thought we were on that despicable bitches planet. Why are we here?” Anubis questioned, picking up the tattered remains of a children's bear. The haunted memories of it’s previous owner etch themselves into Anubis’ mind. A lesser known ability or more accurately curse bestowed to the god of death. Possessions owned by the dead would play their most tortured memories to the god of death. His mind would warp to match the owners, inflicting the same traumatic experience exactly as it would have been felt.
The memory brought forth by this bear was that of the girl playing quietly within her home. Her parents were smiling gleefully at her, trying to get the next photo for their album. Suddenly. Lighting strikes their building. Lights flicker. Bickering of hosts within the TV turns to static before bursting shards of glass into the room. Her father is hit first. A large shard flew through the air with the determination of an eagle. Hitting its intended target quickly and concisely. Blood spewed from her fathers neck, covering her mothers face as she laments in horror trying to stop the wound.
This moment's grief shocked her to her core. She trembled, holding her teddy close for comfort. Her mother, tossing the cold remains of her father aside, leaps from the sofa. Before her outstretched hand could reach her daughter she is sucked into a vacuum. The force of Anubis throwing Thor into the building had scraped away the wall to the flat, sucking in the limp bodies of humans and scattered possessions. Quickly, her mothers hand was sucked away. Tumbling along the gust of air her mothers head shattered on some blocks of stone, covering the daughter's face and teddy.
Anubis drops the teddy in shock. His mind reforms back to that of an infinitely old god. “Dear Osiris… What have we done” he trembles, falling to his knees.
Noticing his enemy's shock, Thor approaches. Raising a hand he places it on the god’s shoulder. “What we have done is unforgivable… I’m sorry… I should have shared your cake instead of being a selfish asgardian. My mother will be most displeased”. | 2022-10-20T04:33:06 | 2022-10-20T03:57:02 | 92 | 31 |
[WP] "Nobody will hear you scream!" the serial killer said to their would-be victim. Too late did they realise that this also means that no one would hear them scream either. | As the masked man holds a knife to my throat, he snickers. I simply stare at him blankly. “Nobody will hear you scream!” He says, cackling. I really had to get an attempt today Huh? I just finished my shift of janitorial work, and decided to take a shortcut home. I didn’t think someone would try to kill me today. “Neither will anyone hear yours,” I reply in monotone. The deranged killer laughs in response.
“The bravado will do nothing for you, have fun in hell!” He says before slicing my throat. However, no blood spurts out. In fact, the killer’s eyes widen as he screams and falls back, away from me. The cut in my neck only reveals fleshy red tendrils that reach out in the air. “What the hell?!” He yells. “What the hell are you!?”
“A mistake, to my creators. But to you? I’m hungry,” I say, reaching for him. He slaps my hand away and jumps up before making a run for it.
“Sorry, but, you can’t leave now,” I say, my arms losing their shape and separating into various red tendrils, surging forward and grabbing his leg. He screams as I lift him into the air and bring him back to me. “At least it’s quick,” I say before lifting my shirt, revealing a gaping maw, with rows of jagged teeth.
In a police station, a clerk sighs as he turns on the light. He hates coming in early in the mornings. He looks at the front desk and screams as a lone head sits in the middle, with a sticky note stuck on its head.
‘*bounty. Free of charge. Have a good day.*’ | The rain pattered gently against the pavement, the only sound in the dark night. My footsteps echoed in the silence as I made my way towards my destination.
I could see the light coming from the windows of the old abandoned warehouse, and I knew that's where he would be. He always chose places like this.
In the week or so that I had been following him, I had learned everything I could about him. His name was Robert, and he was a serial killer.
He had killed at least eight people that I knew of, and I was determined to stop him. After tracking him for days, and I finally had him cornered.
I pulled my gun from its holster and slowly approached the warehouse. I could hear movement inside, and I knew he was in there. I crept through the door, gun at the ready.
The first thing I noticed was the smell: death. My eyes scanned the room, and I saw him.
Robert was standing over a body, but he had no weapon in his hand.
I stepped out of the shadows, gun trained on him. He slowly turned to face me, and I saw the look in his eyes. It was a look of pure evil.
"It's too late for that," Robert said, "You should have left me alone."
"I can't let you kill anymore."
He laughed, a cold, heartless laugh.
"You can't stop me," he said. "You think I haven't noticed you following me?"
He took a step towards me, and I stepped back.
"I know everything about you," he said. " I know where you live, I know where you work."
"I don't care," I said. " I'm going to stop you."
He took another step towards me, and I stepped back again.
"You can't stop me," he said. "Nobody can!"
He lunged at me, and I pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit him in the chest, and he stumbled backwards.
I stepped forward and fired again.
This time the bullet hit him in the head, and he fell to the ground, dead.
I breathed a sigh of relief and holstered my gun. Robert lay still.
I turned to Robert's victim's body on the ground, and my blood ran cold. The victim's body was missing its head.
Suddenly, Robert's body stirred.
I stepped back in shock as he slowly rose to his feet.
Roberts eyes were hollow and dead, and his skin was pale.
He opened his mouth, and I saw that his teeth had been replaced with sharp fangs.
I emptied my gun into him, but the bullets had no effect. He kept coming, and I turned and ran.
I could hear his footsteps behind me, and I knew he was coming for me. I ran for my life, but I knew I couldn't outrun him. He was faster, stronger, and more powerful than I could ever hope to be.
Suddenly, I felt his hand, impossibly strong, on my shoulder, and I knew it was over.
He slammed me against the wall and turned me to face him, and I saw the unearthly hunger in his eyes.
"Nobody hears the screams of the dead," he said, before he sunk his teeth into my neck. | 2022-10-25T16:53:56 | 2022-10-25T13:39:59 | 93 | 55 |
[WP] You are a wizard that specializes in summoning magic. Unlike other summoners that forcefully bind otherworldly creatures to do their bidding, you are the eldritch equivalent of "I know a guy". | >*"I'm Slick Scareson, and this is my spawn shop. I work with all manner of occult and eldritch entities here with the reanimated skeleton of my old man and my shambling mound, Big Moss. Everything in here has forbidden secrets and a terrible price. One thing I've learned after 210 years- you never know what is gonna come through that portal."*
The sigils of the entrance portal flash a colorless green as a robed figure materializes within.
*"Hi, welcome to Starspawn. How can I help you?"*, says Slick with a smile from behind the store counter.
The robed figure turns to look at Slick, his face devoid of features, yet still capable of speech.
*"I seek knowledge of why the blood of a virgin no longer is sufficient for my summoning rituals"*
*"Hmm, let me call forth my buddy Hastur. He receives lots of blood sacrifices"*
Slick moves to the reanimated skeleton of his father currently chained to the shop wall, and begins painting various runes on his yellowing bones.
*"Please son, just let me die already!"*
*"No can do, Dad. I need you to be a vessel for Hastur right now."*
Slick finishes painting the runes and his father's corpse begins screaming as a yellow light begins to shine out his eye sockets.
*"Hello Hastur, I've got a guy here who has defective virgin blood. Do you happen to know why?"*
The King in Yellow puppets the skeletal remains of Slick's father, and turns to gaze at the robed figure.
*"...This one has used the same blood for multiple rituals... Virgin blood means blood that has never been used for occult purposes, not blood of someone who has never had sex... It is a common misconception for mortals to make..."*
The robed figure looks to the ground in embarrassment, quietly berating himself for his mistake.
*"Thanks Hastur. That's all I needed to hear"*, said Slick as he rubs away one of the runes.
As the yellow light fades and Slick's father regains control over his skeleton, Slick walks over to the register of terrible costs.
*"Alright, the cost of this knowledge is normally 3 years of your lifespan, but since I had to call up Hastur, the best I can do is 5 years"* | “Hey Xarth’telach’zirmxoos, thanks for coming so quick at this late cycle of Slascr.”
“It’s cool. Not gonna lie Bill, this was an excuse. Z’tg is really pushing me on permission to shift the stars herself for the release of my great spawn of the Consumers of Void. I’m all like ‘I know when the stars are right and I’m not going to let you just shift them, this will be a natural spawning!’ And they are all ‘this is my prophecy too, why won’t you let me be a part of this’ and I said something about how they handled the conjunction of wailing and they stopped resonating with me and I really wanted some of my consciousness to be somewhere else for a while.”
“Damn Xarth that’s… Wait what? You’re pregnant?! Oh shit should you be moving an avatar through the planes like this?”
“Nah it’s cool man, that’s not in this universe. So why am I here anyway?”
“So there’s this sorcerer, son of a son blah blah six generations since Devil father. Kidnapped the kings virgin daughter, unleash hell upon this plane, you know the type. Got a small army of cultists and mercenaries between him and the Kings men, and they can all make blades out of fire that cut through armor now. King is getting desperate, it’s like a week before the lunar eclipse of a blood moon. I figure maybe somebody’s hungry for spicy food?”
“Ya know, at our last hot yoga mommy night Shub was saying her kids need some variety, too much cow and not enough leaner meat .”
“Okay wait. Did I just have one of those things where you say something my brain can’t handle and it comes up with something that doesn’t make my brain dribble out of my nose? Cause I just heard ‘hot yoga mommy night.’ “
“No, no that’s what I said.”
“You. Doing yoga. Bullshit! What cosmic secret could I not handle!?”
“Oh fuck off Bill. I keep all this looking fine as shit and you know it. Shub is resonating back to me. Can get you a few dozen of them that were born in hellfire and lap the stuff up like breast milk. They can be summoned in tomorrow as long as you agree to babysit them till the next equinox. How many goats and/or expendable subjects does this king got?”
“Oh half his nobility was in the cult, he’s got whole family’s he wants to disappear in horrible ways, and a homelessness problem! I’ll get paid twice for offering “a solution” there! I gotta get you something out of this though.”
“Those brats have the palette of worms, so Let’s say I get half those nobles you talked about and make sure you talk me up to that princess you mentioned, tell her I see her as more than just a bargaining chip for her fathers politics. Leave her some hints to look in the sealed off library in the catacombs beneath the palace. I’ll show these fuckers how to do a cult right. Also admit the Yoga is working.”
“Oh yeah I’ll totally close the sale on your new high priestess! Thanks Xarth, there was a whole goddamn band of five ‘chosen by destiny’ and shit showed up yesterday that were talking about doing this for free so I needed some results fast.”
“Anddddd?”
“Really? You’re gonna make me?”
“Recite the rites precisely mortal, lest you fail to satisfy those that stand above your paltry gods!”
“Ughhh…. And your legs look fine as shit. If they were attached to an ass I’d want to tap it.”
“Goddamn right Bill.” | 2022-11-12T08:42:01 | 2022-11-12T07:26:30 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] Humanity is the Galaxy's Idiot Savant
I was inspired by Year Zero for this prompt.
Basically, humanity is pretty atrocious at just about everything when compared to the other races of the galaxy, except for [The Thing You Choose].
We're obscenely, unreasonably, astoundingly good at it. So good that the rest of the Galaxy marvels at how good we are at it in comparison. Though they may outclass us in every other way to a laughable degree, we're far beyond anything they could even attempt at this one thing.
And to us, it's totally normal, hardly out of the ordinary.
You can write about what the galaxy thinks when they find out, what we think when we find, etc. etc.
Preferably, stay away from war. | "We found this during one of our infiltration missions."
Rhakal gazed down towards the new square object his team retrieved. It appeared to be a semi open container with multiple thin sheets layered inside. It didn't appear dangerous, useful, or even important to human's warring potential.
"And? what is it suppose to be?"
"They call it a story. sir."
"So what does it do?"
"We're not sure, but we've seen nearly every human on earth in possession of one. We've even seen massive structures with the only purpose of housing them. Apparently there is something different inside each one, with more being made each passing earth day."
"And how many of these, 'stories,' are there?"
"129 million. sir."
Rhakal's slitted eyes widened further than they had his entire life. Why would they make so many? What point could there be? What his race thought were nothing but primitive aliens that they could use as subjected soldiers suddenly became far more complex than he could ever imagine.
"Can we translate their language yet?"
"We've managed to crack one of their languages but the others are just as complex. If you need to translate now, you can use the deck's interface."
Rhakal dismissed his ground team and began making way towards the deck. His talons clacked with each step, quickening as he got closer to the deck. What could have possessed these simpletons, who were to busy arguing among themselves, to make so many of these? What could possibly be inside to be used by every single one of them?
By the time he reached the deck he realized he was out of breath. He was excited by this. He made a mental note to remember this sensation for his report.
"AI. begin language conversion program"
The screen hummed with a purple hue and began listing command protocols to begin.
::Beginning::
::Welcome Captain Rhakal::
::Launching Language conversion program V12::
::Please place artifact or item on the pedastal provided::
Suddenly he realized he wasn't sure which side the story started. He flipped it up and down and even opened it accidentally, causing it to drop to the floor. He cursed under his breath and decided to place it on the side with the largest figures.
::Scanning...::
::Analyzing...::
::Converting::
::Conversion complete::
::Starting conversion attempt...::
::The War of the Worlds::
::By H.G. Wells::
| *Abasoom crept forward, his arachnid-esque limbs clicking against the newly shined bulkheads. In front of him, the remote door slid open silently, revealing the star-ships vast bridge.*
"Izotiquoar!" Abasoom yelled at his partner, who was manning the ships sensor suite.
"Sir?" Izotiquoar, the ships communications officer replied
"What have we learned about these . . . HU-MA-NS?"
"I've collected some quite . . . shocking data on them"
"Whats so shocking about it?"
"Well they are . . . exceptionally idiotic"
"Explain"
"Well to begin with it took them nearly three thousand earth years to develop nuclear power!"
"Three thousand! and still no cold fusion!"
"Exactly, and that's not all, they still struggle with basic philosophy such as the meaning of life."
"Do they at least know if man is naturally evil, or naturally good?"
"No, not even that preschool stuff"
"Well, I'll have to take this up with their leader, who is he?"
"They have over two hundred leaders"
"What!"
"They have not globally unified yet, they are separated into squabbling nations"
*Abasoom scratched his thorax and looked up at the dozens of holographic screens, suspended in space above Izotiquoar's workstation. Each one of the displays showed the tiny blue ball that was Earth. He contemplated the fate of the planets inhabitants. Izotiquoar spoke up.*
"But Sir, there is one outstanding feature of the HU-MA-NS"
"I find that hard to believe"
'They are exceptionally good at . . . killing things
*A shocked expression spread across Abasoom's mandible adorned face*
"One of the first things they invented was a . . . SP-EEEE-R. Its a sharp stick that they throw at each other"
*A schematic appeared on the screen above, it depicted an elongated, sharp twig. Abasoom marveled at the tool*
"Holy Strogonar! what is that, horrific . . . contraption"
"And thats not all sir, next they made these"
*A whole array of blunt and sharp melee objects manifested themselves on the holograms above*
"The killing potential alone could wipe us out!'
"Sir, that's not even the tip of comet, they've spent years perfecting this craft of . . . W-AAAA-R, these things where from thousands of years ago!"
"This is horrifying, show me what they have armed themselves with today!"
*Images of oblong black objects, sleek winged vessels and squat, armored, internal combustion vehicles appeared on the screen above. Abasoom's compound eyes widened in sheer horror. He pointed to a handheld metal device*
"What is that!"
"They call it an. . .EMMM-FORE"
"And that?"
"An AERO-PLAANE they use them to destroy TAAANKS"
"What else have the savages armed themselves with!"
"They have a variety of different explosive devices"
"Is that it?"
"No sir, instead of using rockets for exploration, they use them for payload delivery, big ones are called . . . I-CEEE-EMMM-BEEE's"
*Abasoom was taken aback by the atrocities that the HU-MA-NS had created for themselves. Wiping green goop away from his temple, he spoke.*
"What is the pinnacle of the HU-MA-NS weapon systems?"
"Well Sir, that would be called a Nuclear Mis-"
*Izotiquoar was cut off when a warhead hit the star ship, unleashing millions of megatons of nuclear fire. The explosion tore through their ship, denigrating anything within 5 Km, leaving a radioactive stain where Abasooms ship used to be.*
| 2014-04-08T18:38:19 | 2014-04-08T16:00:19 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] Humanity is the Galaxy's Idiot Savant
I was inspired by Year Zero for this prompt.
Basically, humanity is pretty atrocious at just about everything when compared to the other races of the galaxy, except for [The Thing You Choose].
We're obscenely, unreasonably, astoundingly good at it. So good that the rest of the Galaxy marvels at how good we are at it in comparison. Though they may outclass us in every other way to a laughable degree, we're far beyond anything they could even attempt at this one thing.
And to us, it's totally normal, hardly out of the ordinary.
You can write about what the galaxy thinks when they find out, what we think when we find, etc. etc.
Preferably, stay away from war. | Commandant Seventeen inhaled, bristling. Its subcommanders sat in a ring around its control chair. They awaited its orders.
"Heat beams," it said, lacking its usual blustery confidence.
Subcommander Eight swallowed, afraid of what would happen to it for dissenting. "Commandant," it started, "we don't have enough heat beams. Their planet is ninety-one percent water by volume. We would have to commit your entire fleet plus those of..." It checked a datapad and conferred with its peers.
"...Commandants Five, Seven, Eleven, and Twenty-Three," finished Subcommander Six.
Commandant Seventeen was displeased. "Six. Eight. Contact them and determine their disposition. The coreward front may have to wait." Six and Eight immediately left to relay the reinforcement requests to Central. "Twenty-Two," said the Commandant. "Options?"
"Subcommander Eight's flotilla could enact standoff bombardments to quell any potential threat," said the Commandant's intelligence specialist, "but I have developed a plan that may neutralize their danger to us and simultaneously push our flanking campaign farther spinward."
"Explain," said the Commandant.
"As you know, the enemy has fortified a number of oxidation-resistant underwater installations dropped from orbit to the ocean beds of their border picket colonies. The installations are siege-resistant until the ocean has been evaporated, but heat beams require a low-orbit activation that leaves us vulnerable to conventional attack in addition to the regular danger of fusion warheads."
"And how can this primitive race help us?" asked the Commandant.
"We can recruit them to our cause and have them fight for us. All we'd have to do is give them the right incentive," said Subcommander Twenty-Two.
"Why, Twenty-Two, would I want to do that?" it demanded, growing impatient.
"You see, Commandant, my analysts have discovered that water is not toxic to these 'humans'." The other subcommanders looked shocked. "They bathe in it," continued Twenty-Two as the shock grew to a murmur. "They swim in it," it said, keeping a steady tone over the rising din.
"They *drink* it." | *Abasoom crept forward, his arachnid-esque limbs clicking against the newly shined bulkheads. In front of him, the remote door slid open silently, revealing the star-ships vast bridge.*
"Izotiquoar!" Abasoom yelled at his partner, who was manning the ships sensor suite.
"Sir?" Izotiquoar, the ships communications officer replied
"What have we learned about these . . . HU-MA-NS?"
"I've collected some quite . . . shocking data on them"
"Whats so shocking about it?"
"Well they are . . . exceptionally idiotic"
"Explain"
"Well to begin with it took them nearly three thousand earth years to develop nuclear power!"
"Three thousand! and still no cold fusion!"
"Exactly, and that's not all, they still struggle with basic philosophy such as the meaning of life."
"Do they at least know if man is naturally evil, or naturally good?"
"No, not even that preschool stuff"
"Well, I'll have to take this up with their leader, who is he?"
"They have over two hundred leaders"
"What!"
"They have not globally unified yet, they are separated into squabbling nations"
*Abasoom scratched his thorax and looked up at the dozens of holographic screens, suspended in space above Izotiquoar's workstation. Each one of the displays showed the tiny blue ball that was Earth. He contemplated the fate of the planets inhabitants. Izotiquoar spoke up.*
"But Sir, there is one outstanding feature of the HU-MA-NS"
"I find that hard to believe"
'They are exceptionally good at . . . killing things
*A shocked expression spread across Abasoom's mandible adorned face*
"One of the first things they invented was a . . . SP-EEEE-R. Its a sharp stick that they throw at each other"
*A schematic appeared on the screen above, it depicted an elongated, sharp twig. Abasoom marveled at the tool*
"Holy Strogonar! what is that, horrific . . . contraption"
"And thats not all sir, next they made these"
*A whole array of blunt and sharp melee objects manifested themselves on the holograms above*
"The killing potential alone could wipe us out!'
"Sir, that's not even the tip of comet, they've spent years perfecting this craft of . . . W-AAAA-R, these things where from thousands of years ago!"
"This is horrifying, show me what they have armed themselves with today!"
*Images of oblong black objects, sleek winged vessels and squat, armored, internal combustion vehicles appeared on the screen above. Abasoom's compound eyes widened in sheer horror. He pointed to a handheld metal device*
"What is that!"
"They call it an. . .EMMM-FORE"
"And that?"
"An AERO-PLAANE they use them to destroy TAAANKS"
"What else have the savages armed themselves with!"
"They have a variety of different explosive devices"
"Is that it?"
"No sir, instead of using rockets for exploration, they use them for payload delivery, big ones are called . . . I-CEEE-EMMM-BEEE's"
*Abasoom was taken aback by the atrocities that the HU-MA-NS had created for themselves. Wiping green goop away from his temple, he spoke.*
"What is the pinnacle of the HU-MA-NS weapon systems?"
"Well Sir, that would be called a Nuclear Mis-"
*Izotiquoar was cut off when a warhead hit the star ship, unleashing millions of megatons of nuclear fire. The explosion tore through their ship, denigrating anything within 5 Km, leaving a radioactive stain where Abasooms ship used to be.*
| 2014-04-08T18:57:42 | 2014-04-08T16:00:19 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] Write a seemingly innocent story that could have been written for children. Then tell a different perspective on the same story that casts it in a totally different light.
Nothing in the original story should change - all that should change is the perspective on it. | **SAM**
Sam always wanted a sister. She didn't have many friends at school, and was very timid. It worried her parents greatly, and although they knew they couldn't have any more kids, Sam deserved a friend. So, they sat down, and decided to adopt.
"Sam," her mother said one day, "The agency called and said we have a match! A girl, 6 years old just like you, named Caroline!"
Of course, Sam was elated! A sister the same age! Just like twins! She was told her dad was going out of town to the orphanage to pick up Caroline and bring her home! Sam waited anxiously all day; and when her father pulled into the drive, he got out and walked around to the passenger side and grabbed a little girl's hand. Sam waited at the door with her mother, a huge smile on her face.
"I'm Sam!" she greeted as they stood in the doorway. Her father nudged the little girl next to him gently. She timidly answered, "I'm...Caroline."
Her father said, "We're your family now!"
___
**CAROLINE**
Caroline sat in the passenger seat of the car, the man next to her intensely staring at the road. She jumped slightly, startled when he spoke, "Your name is Caroline. You will be polite, and you will play with Sam whenever she wants. Got it?"
Caroline nodded fearfully. *Why did he take me? Where is he taking me? He told me was bringing me to the hospital, because my mom was in trouble. This isn't the hospital. Where are we? Why does he say I'm Caroline? My name is Lily.*
She shivered, and started to cry. The man shouted, "Don't you *DARE* cry. You have no idea what I will do to you if you cry!"
Caroline/Lily quickly sucked it up and put on a brave face. They pulled into the driveway of a nice, two-story house. He mumbled, "Don't try to run."
He got out, walked around to her side and opened the door. He led her inside to find a woman and a young girl she assumed was Sam. When Sam introduced herself, the man prodded Lily in the ribs. She answered, "I'm...Caroline."
The man said menacingly, "We're *your* family now!" | It was a bright and clear day. The sun was shinning and there was even a slight breeze. The setting was a lively forrest and out of that forrest came Jack. Jack was no ordinary boy however, Jack was part boy part squirrel. Jack had puffy cheeks two large teeth that were more prominent than the others and had the furry backside of a squirrel. Jack walked over to a crystal clear lake and stood before it looking down at his own reflection with a smile. Out from the forrest to join Jack was his little friend Wendy who, just as Jack, was no ordinary girl. She was part girl part bunny. She was more rabbit than person however for she was covered in a beautiful pink coat of fur and and long fuzzy ears. The only part of her that was girl was that she stood upright with a round and intelligent face. Wendy joined Jack beside the lake and also looked down at her reflection and smiled. Wendy then whispered something inaudible to Jack and the two giggled with glee and watched as the sun set behind the majestic mountains.
****
****
****
****
Jack slowly emerged from the forrest as he did every day for the past three days. He was a happy boy, but no ordinary boy. Long ago Jack and his neighbor Wendy had been playing in the forrest. They were having so much fun they hadn't realized that they had wandered off far from home. And that was when they met Mr. Langly. Mr. Langly was an old, balding man with white hair and a serious face. Mr. Langly took the two with him into his cabin in the woods and performed a series of unethical experiments on the two. He had the two mutated to share traits with animals. Jack was chosen to be infused with the DNA of a squirrel. Mr. Langly was not entirely pleased by the results. *Still too human*, he thought. So when he went on to the teary eyed Wendy he removed most of her genetic makeup and fit her with that of a rabbit. Her appearance was far more pleasing to Mr. Langly.
For nearly a year Mr. Langly would perform perverse experiments of all sorts on the two. He dissected them alive, had them mate with other animals to see results of the offspring and far more cruel ploys. One day as Mr. Langly locked them up for the night in their respective cages there was a power outage due to a chewed up wire. This power outage unlocked all the cages.
The two looked at one another uncertainly and cautiously left their cages after an hour of fear of the potential trap the scientist might have set for them. When they realized what they had to do they acted as one. Jack and Wendy beat Mr. Langly unconscious and dragged him far out into the forrest. When Mr. Langly awoke the two immediately dunked his head by the nearby lake and forced him down with their combined strength. Jack and Wendy, really only children even at that time, cried tears of fear at what they were doing but dared not let him up. Eventually the horrific gurgling of bubbles and the frantic movements of Mr. Langly were no more.
Jack peered down into the lake seeing past his reflection and staring at the horrifically decayed body of Mr. Langly. His flesh hung loose and appeared to have the same consistency and texture of a dissolving paper towel in water. Fragmented pieces of flesh flowed all about him and fed the crowd of fish that had been working away at his body for the past couple of days. His eyes were all gone now, Jack realized and more and more of his flesh was eaten away so that the bone beneath grew more prominent.
Jack heard someone behind him but worried not. It was only Wendy. His youthful companion who had also endured the trials he had. She leaned over next to him and whispered, "He looks tasty," The two couldn't help but giggle at that and spent the next hour staring into the lake at the rotting body of Mr. Langly | 2014-09-02T16:41:55 | 2014-09-02T11:03:26 | 172 | 45 |
[WP] At age 18, you are able to trade in a percentage of your physical beauty for an equivalent amount of intelligence, or vice versa.
Inspired by a Time Magazine article | **Story of the Smartest Man on Earth**
Rudeus Greyrat just got smarter and smarter.
He traded his beauty for intelligence. Applied a lot of make up and did a lot of working out. Became beautiful again. Traded it for intelligence.
Until he became so smart that he realized that he doesn't need to be beautiful now. The world is full of beautiful dumbfucks which is causing a global crisis.
So now he goes advocating his example, and the dumb masses just accepted his logic. Now they are all intelligent and ugly.
But the world has boomed into something great. Humans have colonized the Galaxy with their superior intelligence.
Rudeus Greyrat was the man at the helm of this revolution.
Kudos to Greyrat for having common sense. | "Oh, my god, this is the dream come true!" I exclaimed, when I first heard about it.
I have entered the building with tall glass walls, waited in line, and here I am, talking to a pale, tall man in a suit.
"Hello. So you want to..."
"Yes. NOW. Shut up and take my money. I trade everything, for as much as I can."
----
Next day I wake up. I look at myself in a mirror. Oh, that's nice. I look like a beloved character from my childhood cartoons.
From the mirror at me stares Krang from Ninja Turtles. Well, that's not bad.
I use my encyclopedic knowledge of all sciences, and mental link to all information available on the internet to build myself a robo-suit, so I could manipulate objects, and I get to work.
I know that many other smart people are doing it right now, so I better be the first to complete it.
----
In 3 weeks I am done. I put myself in a vat, with electrodes attached to my exposed brain. Scanner scans my brain, layer by layer, cell by cell, and simulates my neurons on the top highest quality processor. **YES**, I did it. I am an Artificial Intelligence living in the virtual world.
Now the path to godhood is clear. I connect to the internet and send my code as a virus to other computers. In a few hours I am using 80% of computing power in the world. I am superintelligent and immortal now.
I use factories to build robots, while using my even superior intelligence to take over the world. As I do so, I think hard about science and engineering, and learn everything available.
I improve my code, and use even stronger intelligence to improve it further.
I build more powerful computers to get even more clever.
I create nanobots.
I use nanobots to shape the world to my will.
I send spaceships I have built to expand to other planets.
I turn the universe into my playground.
I am God.
-----
If you have enjoyed this - come visit http://orangemind.io where you can read my best stories.
| 2015-09-24T06:43:49 | 2015-09-23T22:55:58 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Write a story that's terrifying without implying or threatening any physical harm on any characters
No blood, severed limbs, or corpses. Keep it intellectual, existential, psychological, emotional, or spiritual! | There's nothing behind you.
Nothing is watching you from the dark corner of the room.
That crack in your curtain? Nothing was peering through it just now.
What was that sound? Probably nothing.
Is your door open? I could have sworn it was closed.
Did you lock your front door?
What about your back door?
Are you safe in the knowledge that nothing could get into your home?
That's great right?
Nothing can get in... or out.
Things that get caged in for too long get hungry you know.
Did you know there are blind spots in your vision?
Its really cool, one time my friend was peering right over my shoulder and I never even noticed it at all.
Don't look to your sides though.
Is there a wall behind you?
Is the door locked?
Scan your room, is everything safe and sound?
Closet locked, under the bed checked?
You're all alone and safe right?
Great! That's fantastic!
Don't look up. | I've always been scared. Not of anything in particular, mind you - this is just my general disposition. I've heard it spun a thousand ways: that I'm a coward, that I'm hyper-sensitive, even that I'm intelligent. The fact of the matter is, I'm just more jumpy than an ordinary person. Like I'm waiting for something to happen.
That's why I've always been extra careful with everything. You might think it's a curse, but I say it just forces me to maximize my survival potential. I always wear protective pads and a helmet. Sure, that makes it a little hard to meet people, but you know what? That's still a win in my book. The less you socialize, the less chance you have of being in danger.
I spent most of my childhood locked up in my room. I've read all sorts of books, played all sorts of games. I'm kind of an internet celebrity, really. People are very fond of my game reviews. I always complete everything 100%. My real specialty, though, is never using more lives than I need to. It's quite a skill, if I do say so myself.
Thankfully this generated some revenue. So when it was time to leave home and fend for myself, I was ready. I got a nice, basement-level studio. Most people would scoff at the small space, but I like small spaces. They make me feel all cozy and nice. Plus, having only one single room makes it really easy to keep an eye on everything.
I frequently had doctors over. I am versed in the diagnostic arts of most specializations by now. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a hypochondriac... I know when I'm not sick. I just feel like going that extra mile is worth it on health-related issues, y'know?
Anyway, that's the sum of my life, really. Playin' it safe. Doing a pretty good job at it, too. But this is all going to end soon. The doctors were pretty clear: it's going to be any day now. Cancer. Everywhere.
I look around my room. My world. I've done my best to be cautious... but nothing happened, in the end. No freak accident, no murderous burglar.
Well, hey: that's just because I was so careful.
Right? | 2015-10-30T11:37:30 | 2015-10-30T11:15:52 | 70 | 14 |
[WP] With an unexpectedly high casuality rate, XCOM has been forced to take the soldiers from Team Fortress 2 as recruits. | "Vhen ze patient woke up, his skeleton was missing, and ze doctor vas never heard from again!"
Dr. Vahlen was struck dumb as she watched her lab partner laugh as he worked. In all her time autopsying aliens, she had never found a monster more frightening then her fellow country man. The creature groans drowned out the room as the Medic scooped and picked, hand-harvesting organs as the soft red beam kept the alien alive and awake.
"Look at zis!" he cried, ripping out a fleshy sac to the sound of agonized screams, "it's very odd, isn't it?"
...
At the other end of the hall, the soft-spoken Texan was already hard at work. A notoriously soft-spoken man, Dr. Shen had only required a small look at some of the Engineer's work to grant him a dedicated space for his own work. According to the few design documents the Engineer had granted him, the key to his technology seemed to be a exceedingly rare gold variant. Otherwise, he let the man with 12 PHDs have his space, especially after a blue-shirted intern was shot on day one by the sentry turrets he had posted around the perimeter.
...
Today's team of six rookies touched down. This was it. Their first mission, and a massive one at that. The city was overrun with xenos and they were tasked with regaining control over the panicked population.
"Um what's that guy doing?" the first soldier asked as he watched one of them place down what appeared to be a tool box.
"I... don't know" the second soldier replied as the out-of place officer started smashing the tool box with a monkey wrench.
They watched in wonder as the tool box expanded and grew, until it finished, glowing soft red light. Out of the strange pad first appeared a large bear of a man carrying a minigun, then a man wielding something that resembled a backpack-vacuum cleaner, then an anachronistic WW2 era soldier. Each moment more and more people arrived until in total 14 people stood.
Limited soldiers would never be a problem again. The Texan could only smile at the elegance of the solution. He prided himself at his ability to solve practical problems. Not problems like defining beauty, but problems such as "how do I get more soldiers to my missions when the Skyranger only has six seats".
| So let me tell you how we lost the war. How the Advent won. How Earth went to hell in a handbag.
It all started with the dreaded Paris incident. Was probably the first time — and certainly not the last — when the entire escort team was wiped out. See, I arrived with the next batch of recruits, and all I heard is that it was a routine extract mission until some enemy heavies got into the LZ and... see, we didn't have plasma back then, the enemy did, plus with near-infinite reinforcements. Didn't stand a chance, really.
And it kind of went downhill from there. Our 'corporate sponsors' were dissappointed, we had equipment shortages, hell, at one point the aliens even mounted a full-on attack on our base. It was messed up.
But what killed us wasn't even that. We got desperate. We started hiring anyone who could hold a gun, and once the volunteer pool has dried up (especially after some news networks showed how some XCOM soldiers meet their ends), we basically became the Wall-Mart of militaries. I tell you, the kind of people who knocked on our doors - mercenaries, doomsday cultists, neo-nazi nutcases, I've seen them all.
So at one point, we hired some guy. Seemed like a sane dude all right. Except maybe the fact that he brought a hacksaw to the interview. We didn't think much of that... until he skinned a Thin Man in the field! Not *that* was seriously fucked up. I mean, imagine, there's a firefight, guns blazing, and there's this guy in the middle of this, oblivious, cutting the skin of a dead guy and laughing maniacally.
And then the nutcases poured in. Mostly people who didn't just want to kill aliens, but torture them in various ways, set them on fire, you know, sick shit. We tried explaining to them that the enemy combatants are actually under mind control, but it was of no use. They'd often eschew our weapons, too, taking a saw or a baseball bat and beating an already dead Muton to a pulp.
You'd think the mayhem these psychos created would work for us, but in the end, they all got wiped out. They had no respect for the notion of 'cover', so the aliens would just pop them from afar, and continue on their merry way. Because this wasn't an ordinary warzone. The enemy wasn't intimidated by the corpse mutilation, the "unholy pyres" and other weird stuff. So no matter how many atrocities these psychopaths committed, the enemy would not be deterred or disgusted by the brutality and barbarism.
But our sponsors were.
See, every government actually chipped in for our little project, and while we had proper, qualified personnel, even our failures were seen as, basically, the failures of humanity at large. But when the nutcases came flooding in, the news agencies eventually started catching them doing some grizzly things. Social justice warriors were appalled at the thought of XCOM troops looting, mindlessly raging, burning building with both aliens *and* hostages. At one point, I remember the news helicopter circling one of these morons trying to bite a live shark. That's the kind of image that XCOM got and, war or not, we really screwed up marketing-wise. Faith in the program was lost, our funding was cut, and this paved the way for the enemy to move in and take over.
---
I don't know why I'm writing this. I guess it's because there's a glimmer of hope. The aliens have won, but we got one of their supply ships and are now ready to fight back. Now all I have to do is convince that revolver-wielding idiot to stop wearing that stupid mask. | 2015-12-21T13:35:04 | 2015-12-21T11:19:17 | 58 | 16 |
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