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] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "For many years now, the Islamic State has been a thorn in the side of the Middle East," the President told Congress. "Carving out territory from Syria, Iraq, Turkey, and Lebanon. Though many nations, including the United States, took *limited* action against this threat, no country was willing to finally commit to cleaning up this scourge, until *now*."
The President gestured to the man to his right, a quiet black man wearing a a dark suit and a red tie. "My good friend, King Mswati, has ended this threat once and for all. His military's effectiveness has been unprecedented, and the finally stronghold of Al Raqqa was liberated only a short month ago!"
The assembled Congressmen all clapped and cheered.
"So," the President continued. "It is with great honor that I present this Congressional Medal of Freedom, given for meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, to King Mswati of Sweden!!"
The room erupted into applause, but the king looked uncertain. He glanced around like he was waiting for some sort of cue. Finally he approached the microphone. "Err, sorry, Mr. President. I'm actually from *Swaziland.*"
The President stepped back up to the microphone. "Sorry, King Mswati. My mistake, and thank you again to you and the rest of the great people of Switzerland!!" | "Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her." | 2016-01-29T06:30:22 | 2016-01-29T04:24:26 | 481 | 19 |
[WP]: your seventh son is fated to murder you. You laugh until you remember you used to donate sperm. | *My seventh son will kill me...I have only one legitimate child, so I suppose there's only one real way to go about this, then.*
I looked at the list of names and addresses given to me by the registry as I sat at the dinner table.
"What's that?" Jimmy, my one and only true son, inquired.
"I used to donate sperm for money when I was younger. These are all technically my kids, your half-brothers!"
"Oh. Okay. I'm done eating, may I be excused?"
"Sure, Jimmy. Don't forget to finish your homework."
The next day, I began my search; The list wasn't ordered at all, so I had to just go down one by one. The old fortune-teller's words rang through my ears, and I didn't want to die at the hands of someone I created out of a need for money.
The first I found was Mark. He seemed very sweet and I saw a great family dynamic when I approached the house, so I decided to move onto the next one, hoping to save time.
He lived in Colorado, so I had to settle for a phone call. I pretended to be a newspaper, and asked him a few questions about his family life and whether or not he was happy. His answers were hesitant, but it seemed he loved his family and had no idea he wasn't fully his parents children. *Besides, he lives too far away, right?*
My third try elicited something far more menacing, and only a block from my house. I met with a boy named Sam, who was dressed in all black and looked...displeased with everything. He had a t-shirt of his favorite band and it was some violent metal artist, his face looked pained and angry.
*This might be the one.*
I talked to him a bit, and while he resisted opening at first, I think the idea of talking to a stranger was more comforting to him than dealing with his family- bingo. He told me about how his dad is abusive, about how his mother barely acts like she loves him and sometimes he wishes he wasn't born. Apparently his father once told him that he's not a real son, due to the sperm donation, and now Sam is upset that whoever his real dad is left him with one that treats him so poorly.
*This has to be it. I'm going to spend time with him, and eventually break him the news- that should ease his mind and maybe he won't kill me.*
I spent most of my free time with him, trying to make him happy and showing him what a true father is. It seemed to be working, because when I broke the truth to him, he cried and hugged me.
*I'm safe.*
That night, I went home to celebrate with my family, but my wife was gone- apparently it was some yoga lesson, or something to that effect. When I stepped in the house and reached for the lights, a blade punched through my heart, dropping me to the ground as the cold of steel bit at my flesh.
I looked up, desperately wanting to know how I could've failed. How my efforts led to nothing after all this.
"You love that other boy more than me, I know it," Jimmy whispered, shaking and sobbing. "Why do you love him more than me? I try to be a good son, but you go over there and spend time with him while I sit here alone....why don't you love me, dad?"
-------------------------------------------------
*thanks for reading, if you enjoyed it, swing by /r/resonatingfury!* | "Ok, so you're certain it's the **SEVENTH** son. Not, you know, the seventieth or something?" Michael asked Vikus slightly desperately.
The local fortune-teller had shot to worldwide fame when his predictions were proven to be 100% accurate. The little boy who had grown up in Michael's town had become a superstar. Knowing him had its perks - he easily locked down his first appointment with the man.
But Vikus didn't exactly spare him on the details. In fact, he seemed positively gleeful sharing terrible facts. But he could have made a mistake this time - Michael had spent years donating his swimmers, after all. Maybe it wasn't the seventh son, after all.
"Indeed. Your murder approaches in three minutes, actually," he added helpfully, peering at the tarot cards. "Mmm...let's see. The only way you'll avoid it is if you...mmm. This is difficult to read."
"Well, it seems a pretty fucking important detail. Could you hurry it up?" Michael snapped, glancing behind him to see if he could spot someone sneaking up on him. He thought the worn little building in the corn field had been chosen for its ominous atmosphere. A marketing gimmick. It seemed less comical and more sinister, now.
"Wait a few minutes, maybe it'll become clear," Vikus said finally, caught up in a trance as he stared at the cards.
Michael glared at him suspiciously. Vikus had his eyes closed and didn't notice.
"And how do I know you're not my supposed murderer?" he asked, looking at the fortune-teller closely.
Dark hair, slightly large nose, square jaw: their features were eerily similar. Somehow, he'd never noticed that before.
Vikus looked up and stared at Michael. The fortune teller's eyes were his most famous feature: piercing green. They seemed to be glowing. Michael stared at him, fascinated. It was difficult not to. If he stared at you for more than ten seconds, it was rumoured he'd reveal a life-changing fact.
"You shouldn't have drunk the tea," Vikus said finally, glancing down and shuffling his cards.
Michael dropped to the floor, foam forming at the edges of his mouth. Vikus chuckled slightly to himself, locking the door. After making sure his father was truly dead, he dialled a number on his phone.
"I got him," he said. "Tell the others, will you?"
He dragged the body to the corner of the room and covered it up, then carefully placed six chairs around the table. It had taken a few years, but he'd got the central ingredient for the spell. It helped that he'd grown up in the same town as his father. That had been a stroke of luck his siblings could only dream of.
They arrived slowly, robed in black from head to toe. Vikus resisted rolling his eyes. Dark wizards did have such a taste for the dramatic. What was next, matching tattoos of skulls?
"Welcome, my brothers," he began slowly.
"We have much to thank our father for. Though he never used his latent power, it was passed down to all of us. Secondly, he's kindly going to feature in our special spell tonight. Remember, some of our brothers may still be out there. We won't know until we pool our powers, and read one another's visions. This spell has never been performed before, and there are dangers. I won't deny that. But just think - pooled, our powers will be more potent. More powerful, and infinitely more dangerous. Are you ready?"
"*Hell* yeah," Seth, their youngest brother, burst out. "Just think what we'll be able to do. Let's rock this bitch!"
"Okay, settle down, Seth," Vikus snapped. "Let's just start this. It's supposed to take a few hours."
They joined hands, and started muttering the words. In the linked circle, one of the brothers' eyes snapped open. None of them knew of his prophecy, of course. That one brother would betray the others. That only one would have the power to stop the spell.
He examined his feelings of disgust for what they were doing, his revulsion for his brothers. It had taken all his tenacity, all his cunning to fool them about his loyalties. He had an idea who the traitor should be. But he had no idea how he was supposed to do it.
He stared at his father's corpse, paralysed with fear as his brothers' chanting grew with intensity. How was *he* supposed to stop six dark wizards? Was he supposed to let the spell be completed, so they had access to one another's visions? Maybe one of his brothers had an answer to his question. Trouble was, then they'd know about him.
The sweat ran down his back, as he listened to the chanting, and shivered with indecision. Not a familiar feeling for him. | 2016-02-26T11:12:06 | 2016-02-26T10:24:46 | 92 | 52 |
[WP] You are an archaeologist and have just dug up a dinosaur. That's because you've dug up an entire museum.
Since I wasn't all that clear in the prompt, here's a drunk attempt at explaining it:
Dinosaurs get wiped out, humanity digs them up. Humanity gets wiped out, someone/something else digs them up.
Sorry for the confusion!
EDIT: Okay, two things:
1. I'm an idiot who can't tell the difference between archaeologists and paleontologists. Still, that mistake created some great responses!
2. This blew up. Like, really blew up. First ~~1000~~ 2000 point prompt hype! I love you guys. | John, a world-renowned archaeologist, known for his work in what was known as the "Modern Era" or the early 2000's, stopped digging immediately. He had hit something that was surely not dirt or rock.
After further, meticulous sweeping of dirt away from the object, John noted that he had encountered a bone, larger than any known animal from the time period. It HAD to be a dinosaur, but why was it in this layer of dirt and not dozens of feet further below?
The moment he stopped questioning why it was there, he called a paleontologist because he remember that archaeologists don't fucking deal with fucking dinosaur bones. | "Woah a dinosaur. I'm impressed, but since I'm an archaeologist, my knowledge of dinosaurs is that of an average person. My area of study includes the earliest hominids and the tools they used to survive and ultimately flourish."
I placed down my trowel and call a PALEONTOLOGIST. I then move on to look at the tools and remains of human life, like the little boards in front of the dinosaurs that explain what it is I'm looking at. Then I dig long trenches to determine the parameters of the structure of the museum. Along with my colleagues, we plot in GPS, hand draw, and photograph every human made tool that comes out of the ground, leaving some areas completely untouched. The tools we recover come in the form of microscopes, pens, various daily items and some human remains.
The soil in the immediate area is described and bagged to be tested later. All the artifacts are bagged, marked, logged, and placed in large protective crates for transport to a lab where they are cleaned, catalogued and put in humidity free storage units. The artifacts that were already a part of this museum will be sent to the future Smithsonian and displayed after they are analyzed and dated. The artifacts are pulled for reference when I have to write a 100-page publication that only other archaeologists will care about concerning what life was like back then and how humans have developed since.
A newspaper reporter will read it, grab a few quotes from myself and then only publish the juicy highlights will which ultimately be overshadowed by the dinosaur bit. The site and information will only be valuable to other archeologists after the hype dies down.
No one asks about the site anymore. We've learned all we could, and a few years down the road maybe a hip young archaeologist will discover something new about the site. Until then, I go from job to job, collecting my $20/hour doing cultural resource management in the suburbs.
I am alone in a room with a whiskey, because people keep forgetting that archaeologists have nothing to do with dinosaurs.
Fin. | 2016-04-15T10:10:46 | 2016-04-15T09:05:27 | 34 | 17 |
[WP] When committing a crime you are judged by your intentions and not by your actions. You are a serial killer that has never been found guilty. | "Please don't do this." Allison Simmons begged, her eyes brilliant green and puffy. The bags around her eyes looked displaced. Despite wearing nothing but old jeans and a stained T-shirt, she still looked beautiful. She's young, barely twenty.
 
"I'm doing you a favor, darling." I explained, but I know she knows why I paid her a visit. I got her tied already, unable to resist. It was sad how her hair smelled like crappy fast food fries when I was tying her. She smelled like grease and I hated that smell.
 
She continued to sob.
 
"You shouldn't be crying, you know. I know all about you. Your parents love you very much. You shouldn't have moved into this shitty apartment." I talked as I looked around her current 'home', resisting the urge to clean. "I'm twenty one, and I'm still studying. I looked at your highschool records. You had higher grades than me. You had a future."
 
"Until that asshole Ben Mallard got you knocked up." I sighed. "He isn't that even handsome. Heck, he's not even a football player, or a nerd. He's a drop out for God's sake. He dragged you down. He's a menace in this society, and now you are too. You haven't been paying your rent, Ally!" I told her, still standing in front of her.
 
The sofa was too disgusting to sit on. Gee. How could anyone live with such filth?
 
"By the way, the rent is too high. After I'm done here, you won't have to pay for this. Ben wouldn't support you anymore, I mean, not like he supported you before. I have to go soon. Gotta study, you know. So I have to get this done already."
 
I dusted off my clothes and opened my bag. I don't like messy things like guns, and I can't afford ones with silencers, so I just make do with knives. I have a baseball bat too, but that's only for knocking people out and silencing them. I used it on her already, though, so I'm picking the knives.
 
"Please. Please no. Have mercy. What do you want? All my money is under the bed." Allison started to struggle, but I got her duct taped securely on the chair (which is also filthy and dusty). "Don't do this please. I'm begging you! I'll give you anything! Please!" She yelled, and my heart ached at the sight of her tears.
 
"I'm sorry. I really am." I apologized sincerely, and taped her mouth shut. Her eyes widened when she saw the knife on my hand. "No no don't panic. Relax. Everything will be over soon. Your parents will have you back and you won't live in this place anymore."
 
I took one look around again before turning to her. Allison Simmons is a good person. She quit school to work at a crappy fastfood and never did she steal anything her entire life. People like her are what prompted me to be like this. I want to help her, so I will.
 
"I'm doing this for you." I said with finality. She closed her eyes shut. I stood.
 
I stood and left the room. It only took fifteen minutes. He looked just like his father.
 
"Go back to studying, okay? I'm sure your parents will love to have you back." I patted her head, and she looked so confused it was almost funny. I was quiet and she must have kept her eyes shut. I left her just like that. Confused and scared. She's single again and nothing to drag her down.
 
She'll thank me sometime. I'm sure she'll be a future doctor like her mother said, and she'll marry someone who deserves her. Maybe she'll even start a family someday, and have a daughter this time. It would be nice if a little girl takes after her. She's very pretty
 
I know everyone appreciates what I do. I'm doing everyone a favor. I'm helping. The court *knows* I'm just helping people. | *Judge others by their intentions, not their actions*.
Those were the words that changed it all for me. Growing up I had always been some freak. Some girl that stood off to the side and shuffled her feet and messed with her hair as she tried to blend in with her surroundings. A girl who captured small birds and killed them, spending careful hours cutting them from stem to stern to examine what they held inside.
At first I told myself that I was looking for a soul, but the truth was much more simple than that. I was just curious. *What does it feel like to end a life? What does it look like when a heart starts beating?*
That saying about cats and curiosity is, in my mind, absolutely true. It's just not the cat's curiosity that causes it to wind up dead. It's someone else's.
In this case, I guess I'm saying that all the world are cats and myself the only thinker. I don't really think like this. At least not most of the time. Most of the time I think about what it means to die. I think it must be quite uncomfortable.
The law was passed when I was sixteen. A forty-year old man named Rube Goldstein ran the campaign of *Intentional Judgement*, as it was later named. It passed unanimously. That was it. One day the woman who killed someone while texting and driving was guilty of manslaughter for her carelessness. The next day she was sentenced to community service - not for the murder, but for the intention of texting while driving.
You can see where I'm going with this.
The first time I killed a person, I was twenty-two. It made my hands shake and little shocking jitters run up my spine. It made me shiver and chew on my lip and smile as I felt the limpness of a body for the first time.
His name was Hugh. I buried him out back in the forest. Eight steps past the tree line then six steps left. Six feet under with his clothes all neat and his shoes laced up. He could have been alive if not for his pallor.
My second was two months later. They ran a news segment about it, but I wasn't worried. It was an experiment at its heart, no pun intended. Cutting someone open to see how they responded. Watching their muscles.
The dissection of a human is, surprisingly, much like the dissection of a cat.
It was after my third kill that Detective Gene Wallace came to visit me. He sat down at my coffee table and I offered him a glass of coffee. He sipped it and stared at me through narrowed eyes and started asking me questions about where I had been on certain days and what I had been up to, if I had met these people that had been killed or heard about the murders. He left quickly - I denied it all. But he came back after the fourth kill.
After the fourth kill, I just couldn't stop.
They got me on that one - found the knife in my garage and left me quaking with laughter as it lit up under the blacklight - red turned shiny bright white from the luminol. They booked me, putting me in the back of their car and speaking as though I wasn't there. Detective Gene Wallace was looking mighty pleased with himself.
Then came the trial. The lie detector test.
*Did you intend to hurt these people?*
*No, I did not.*
*Did you kill these people?*
*Yes, I did.*
*Did you intend to kill these people?*
*No, I did not.*
*Did you intend to cause discomfort to these people in any way at all?*
*No, I did not.*
*What did you intend, then?*
*My intention was to study and gain knowledge.*
*You cut them open?*
*I did.*
*But you didn't intend to hurt them?*
*That's correct.*
It was - after the Clinton scandal - the most televised trial ever aired on television. Everyone had something to say about it. But the truth of the matter - the *law* of the matter, rang clear.
I was found not guilty. There can be no punishment for seeking knowledge. There was no law against it. I had not *intended* to kill them, really.
They had just died. Who knew?
The law went through appeals after that. All the way up through the system to the Supreme Court. It was upheld. I killed my fifth, and my sixth, and my seventh. Detective Wallace told me each time that I wouldn't get away with it, but I always did.
I was tired of his games by then. So I broke into his car and waited in the backseat and when he got into the driver's seat I stuck a syringe into his neck and drove him to my house and put him in the basement and waited for him to stir. When he did I smiled, pressing the flat of my knife against his skin.
"You'll be found guilty this time. You drugged me to bring me here."
I shook my head. "I simply intended to find out what the effects of the drugs were on someone who wasn't me. Giving people drugs against their consent is illegal, yes. But I'll say you consented. It's as simple as that."
"And you intend to kill me, so that I can't go up against you in court?"
I smiled. "My dear detective. I don't intend to kill you. I intend to study you. If you die, it will just be a complete accident."
"They'll catch you. You can't lie to them," the detective said as I drew my hand back to begin to work.
"Oh my dear detective. I already have lied. And they never once have caught me."
---
For more stories, check out and subscribe to /r/Celsius232 | 2016-05-22T22:04:36 | 2016-05-22T22:01:12 | 58 | 24 |
[WP] You are kidnapped by a cult, and they are about to sacrifice you to their god. They don't know that you are that god. | Bewildering.
The humans who stood in a circle, chanting my name seemed to be convinced that I would be happy to receive a sacrifice. That the blood of a young man, innocent but for the sin of rejecting their teachings, would please me.
I had always thought of myself to be a good god. A benevolent, giving god. Not like Ares, that warmongering buffoon, always riling up good, honest men and women into killing each other. I was proud myself of the fact that whenever I decided to grace the mortal realm with my presence, humanity was left just a little bit wiser, a little bit closer to creating a utopia.
But in the past millennia, it seems humanity had taken a grand step forward, and several steps back.
“Ouch.” I rasped, as one of the humans (Jeffrey, he called himself, but I knew him to be Jackson) stabbed me once again with a spear. The members of this cult were getting agitated; they had slit the throat of a good, honest man, and he didn’t seem to die.
Why, I wondered, did only these few humans remember my name? Had I ever come as an avatar of death? Or were humans truly as perverse as Nemesis had always proclaimed?
I exerted a tiny wisp of power. My neck stopped bleeding, but I didn’t close the wound just yet. I slowly got to my feet, and stared at Jackson.
“Why?”
Uncomprehending, Jackson merely stared back, mouth agape.
“Why are all of you trying to kill me? What do you stand to gain? Why cut short the life of a man who had done you no harm?”
“Because God wills it!” cried Shona, a child 12 years of age, to the back.
They were long gone. Sparing any of them would result in a group forming again in the future, and sullying my name.
“Then be gone.” I said, and they were no more.
It seems I need to establish a reputation among men once more.
| I couldn't believe it had come down to this.
I wanted to create intelligent life. Instead, all I got was morons. Primitive sea monkeys practicing sacrifice and other ritualistic idiocies. The only thing funnier to me than this was that I was now the target of their simplicity. The victim of it.
I am their creator. I guess you could say I am their parent, but I never believed in traditional methods of conception anyway. So I prefer the term creator. It gives more credit to the science behind what I do, and sounds more dignified. Parents are proud of their children no matter what, but a creator of something is in it for themselves. They want to make something. They want to become God. I wanted to become God.
Now back to my diseased body. Grotesque and green from the pathogens they and I created. I say I am green because that's the only word to describe myself right now. My abdomen looks like a piece of celery. This disease was my grandchild. The creation of my creation. This must be how the parents of serial killers feel whe they see the corpses of the ones their sons or daughters killed, in the police station when they find out the news. Thats how it felt when I learned of their motive for all this. A sinking feeling. The feeling that what you had made is not at all in the image of what you intended.
Since they are so much smaller than me they needed to use pathogens for their little "sacrifice". At first I didn't know if it was my time spent hovering over the petri dish (which is now a tank) or I had contracted the mystery disease when taking my samples. Samples of life which I had to test, kill, then test again. I think they didn't like that too much after so many times, so they brought me a little gift. Atleast that's my theory. Scientists love theories.
Three months into my disease when I was still mobile, I developed a tool which would let me hear those tiny voices. And that's when I learned how wrong my theory was. Fucking theories. Fuck theories. Thats all I can think as I lay here dying.
I heard how primitive they were. Sacrifice, Gods, Deities and disaster. All tied into one idiot civilization. And I learned of the real reason they poisoned me too. Because they believed me to be tied to something called Valhalla. If they wanted me dead because I was the one responsible for killing so many of them, or because I was their warden, keeping them captive in the tank, the fine. I would be proud of my creations. The ingredients i used to make them incorporated much of the human genome so I expected they would parallel humans, but my research(theories)indicated it would be at a much accelerated and refined intelligence rate. I expected them to be over the gods and sacrfice phase in a month. I expected imrpovement and beauty. Instead what I got was minature reflections of all our greatest flaws. I started to cry.
I will be dead soon. And I couldn't be more displeased with the results. The pain is unbearable. I'm amazed such fools could create such a deadly disease to humans. It's the only thing I'm proud of in this whole ordeal, ironic and sickening as it was. When I was still healthy I heard them say the body will die before the mind and brain. All I feel is regret.
--------------------------------
I have never written anything like this before so please go easy on me. Always been curious so this is my attempt! Sorry for any grammar issues. | 2016-08-14T09:06:55 | 2016-08-14T08:52:22 | 108 | 17 |
[WP] You have the powers of both invincibility and super strength, but only when you're drunk. Last night you blacked out, saved the world, and woke up this morning married to your nemesis. | Ah yes, the hangover. The hangover is one of the many events on the list of terrible things that people foresee but choose to suffer through anyway. Eric being super while drunk doesn't help at all with hangovers. He sat up in his bed and immediately tumbled face first onto the floor. He marveled for a moment at this new trick then painstakingly looked back at the bed. The frame was broken, as were some of the legs and there was a human sized hole in the mattress. Eric sighed and struggled to his feet. After using the bathroom he drug himself to the kitchen for some scrambled eggs. He wanted them so bad he could swear he already smelled them. He could smell the bacon too. And the unmistakable scent of bread toasting. Or would it be toast toasting? How burnt does bread have to be before it evolves into toast?
"Good morning, I figured I'd make you a small pick me up breakfast to help with the hangover," came a sultry voice. Eric stared in disbelief for about 10 seconds...maybe 20 before shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. Surely, that was not his naked arch nemesis standing in his kitchen. He reopened them and checked the microwave clock. It read 10:43. He looked away and checked again, same time. He checked his palm. His palm lines were clearly defined. He put his hand down and then checked it a second time. Still clear. This was no dream.
"You have 5 minutes to explain yourself while I eat these eggs," declared Eric. He took the plate of food to the table and he went to work on the eggs. He really, really liked eggs. So yellow and fluffy. It was as if they lit a spark in his heart.
"How's your bed doing?" she taunted. Eric scraped his teeth on his fork but continued eating. The nude woman, villain name Godhand, sauntered around the table and sat on it next to his plate. He glared at her from the corner of his eyes as she gave him the most smug look of satisfaction. "Was the food to your liking?" she questioned as he finished.
"Drink would be nice," he muttered. She upturned her palm; a golden glow enveloped it and a cup floated over and dangled in front of him. He stared at her hand. Her left hand. A left hand he knew all too well from facing her in cataclysmic, climatic battles. There on her ring finger was an old golden ring adorned with an emerald. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of his mother's ring.
"How...what...when...who...uh?" Eric tried to find words. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a concerned, yet amused look.
"Let's see," she began, "To answer your questions; last night in a destroyed temple, we were married by your mentor in front of a quite a few people." "Oh and you may call me Isabella; can't have you calling me by my professional name," she chuckled.
"I...," he tried again but still nothing. This scenario was highly improbable but evidently entirely possible.
"Look, Eric, you may not like me but your alias apparently absolutely adores me" Isabella mocked in a saccharine tone.
Finally, Eric proclaimed, "I'm joining AA." | Most people make pretty bad decisions when they're blackout drunk, yet people still do it. Some people even enjoy it.
Those people are stupid.
Me, though?
I save the world.
See, I happen to have a very special gene that makes my skin harder than diamonds and increases my adrenaline output by 3000%, thus giving me super strength to the point that I could probably take the Hulk in a fight.
The only problem?
This gene only activates when I am absolutely shitfaced drunk, and as I mentioned, people make bad decisions while drunk.
Sure, I did kind of save the world last night. That's the good news.
*"Wh-who (hic) d'ya work for?!"*
*(Thud) "Where (hic) issh Elisabeth Eyre?!"*
*"Stupid supervillains an-an' their stupid plans, man..." (Sob, punch) "I CAN'T TAKE THISSH SHIT ANYMORRE!"*
*(Crash) "WHERE issh Elisabeth Eyre?!"*
*"Ya ever think about how small an' (hic) insignificant we are? Like (hic) how small an' insignificant you'rrre gonna look on th' bottom of my (hic) shoe?"*
*(Shatter, barf) "WHERE ISSH ELISABETH EYRE?!"*
*"Look, can we not do this righ-right now? I app-appreciate that you're tryin' to take over the world, but my head really hurts..."*
The bad news?
"Good morning, darling," the beautiful redhead lying next to me in bed croons, the only thing covering her body being the thin silk sheets of an overly extravagant four-poster bed. "How's your head?"
I blink a few times, trying to comprehend the situation through my massive migraine. I notice a glint of gold on the other woman's ring finger, and I shudder, thinking of how awful it must be to be this particular woman's spouse.
Then, I catch a glimpse of my own ring finger.
*Then,* I scream my head off.
XxxX
"Let me get this straight," I begin, clutching the mug of medicinal tea (supposedly to help my hangover) tightly in my hands as I stare across the table at Elisabeth, who is now wrapped in a fluffy white robe, staring at me in an annoyingly adoring way. Which, now that I think about it, is the way she *always* looks at me. "Last night, you attempted to take over the world by taking the president and the nuclear launch codes hostage."
She nods.
"I got all the way to you, and you told me the only way you'd surrender was if I married you."
She nods again.
I slam my fist down on the table. "AND I BLOODY *AGREED?!*"
"That's not the only thing you agreed to, Anna dear," she purrs, leaning across the table to place a delicate kiss on my cheek, then tracing a bruise on my collarbone with a finger. I recoil in horror, pushing her back into her chair. She pouts childishly, apparently hurt. I stand up.
"I'm leaving."
"You can't," she replies simply. I put my hands on my hips.
"Yeah? And why's that?"
She sighs, tilting her head back slightly, motioning to look above her. I do, and see a security camera. I squint.
"Yeah, your mansion has security. Big whoop."
"That's not my camera," Elisabeth says.
"What are you saying?"
"Look out the window," she says, dodging the question. I walk over to one of the kitchen windows, drawing the curtains back. Instantly, about thirty red dots focus themselves on my head and various vital organs on my body. Outside her window is a baffling sight; row upon row of sandbags, machine gun emplacements, trenches, and tanks are marring her huge lawn. Shocked, I let the curtains fall back into place.
A few seconds pass, before I turn toward Elisabeth, who's smiling calmly, sipping her morning tea.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?!" I demand, marching over to her and grabbing her by the front of her robe. She gives an innocent giggle.
"You're so cute when you're flustered."
My grip tightens. "Answer me. Now."
"I *did* try to start World War III last night, dear. Actions like that don't come without consequences, you know."
"Well, how long will they be there?!" I ask hysterically.
"Oh, ten years, I think they said. Give or take."
I slump to the floor.
*Ten years with HER...*
I swear on all that is sacred, I will never drink again. | 2016-08-14T21:12:20 | 2016-08-14T18:04:03 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] Someone is reading /r/writingprompts in the middle of Statistics class, but then notices a story directed specifically at them. | The professor's marker squeaked a path across the whiteboard. "P represents the probability of something occurring, with 0 being impossible and 1 being entirely certain. For example, P equals 0.5 when discussing the probability of heads on a single coin flip because the odds of tails are equal. You could write it as P(Heads) = 0.5."
The professor stopped for a moment, as if listening to something, then turned to the fourth wall and scribbled something on it.
P(N8theGr8 slacking off in class) = 1.0
"Moving on...." | "Josh breathlessly read the prompt aloud and gasped as he saw his name in the opening sentence." Josh breathlessly read the prompt and gasped as he, well... you can read the opening sentence.
It was as if the internet itself was talking to him. Talking might be too strong a word, however. Technology doesn't actually talk to you unless you accidentally use a word like "seriously" within fifty feet of an iphone.
Statistically speaking, the fact that he saw a prompt title that was incredibly related to his situation was next to impossible. That is he assumed it was statistically impossible. He didn't exactly poll anyone, comb through the data, organize it, label it - you get the idea. Josh assumed all of those things. He didn't actually do well in class, being that he was on writingprompts all day. He just assumed those were things staticians did. All he was concerned with was what shade of black shirt and black pants he'd be wearing that day.
This was strange, Josh thought. He was wearing black clothes. His name is Josh. He is in a statistics class. He is browsing writingprompts. This was all too much for him.
"It must be the government." He thought to himself. Yet, when he just read the previous line the moment after he thought it, he wondered if the government would actually be so obvious to do something so trivial to a failing student.
"Someone's probably hacked me." Was his next postulation. Of course, seeing it written out now made it seem more like a /r/conspiracy kind of thing.
What he didn't realize was that he was actually a plant by a foreign intelligence agency. This story was meant to activate him. Just by reading this sentence now he has been activated. For what? He won't know until it happens. He should have paid closer attention to statistics. He'd have a better idea of what counties would be the most likely to have activated a sleeper on foreign soil.
As for anyone else who isn't Josh wearing all black in statistics class while browsing reddit... you didn't read this. | 2016-11-01T11:14:25 | 2016-11-01T11:03:23 | 43 | 10 |
[WP] The English Teacher's worst nightmare: a story or poem that is completely literal, with absolutely no double meanings
EDIT: Holy cow, this got way bigger than I thought it would, thanks so much for an awesome first prompt ever!
EDIT 2: Did this actually make it to the front page of reddit? What the... | Today I woke up.
It was 7:38am,
When I looked at the clock.
I got ready for work.
I had eggs,
I ate them with a fork.
Work went alright,
and before I knew it,
It had turned to night.
At a reasonable hour I went to bed,
But not before brushing my teeth,
On my pillow I laid my head.
| Write something literal, they said. A good story is easy to read. A good story is easy to remember. A good story tells you a story. It doesn't preach. It doesn't moralise. It doesn't claim to know more than the eye can see. Write something literal, they said.
The writer stared at his computer screen in front of him. He stared at a blank document. He typed a few words, deleted it. It didn't work. Not literal enough.
'Let's start with a poem,' he thought, 'let's make about a little girl trying to decipher it, unable to peel beyond the first layer. A young child taking her first steps into the adult world. You can't get more literal than that.'
'Or maybe it should be about that *chaiwallah*. He's out there selling tea from his bicycle all night at the corner of the street. He's not supposed to be there. I once even saw the police chase him away. But he was back the next day. Maybe he saw something heinous, but he can't tell anyone. After all, he's not even supposed to be there. Pure suffering. You can't get more literal than that.'
But the open document in front of him remained blank. His eyes got bleary, his fingers were numb. But the document remained blank. For nothing he could think of sufficed the expectations. Nothing he could write meant just what he meant. It wasn't his fault, he reasoned. It was the readers, he claimed, conveniently laying the blame at heir doorstep. Why did they have to read more into it than what he meant? Why couldn't they just leave his thoughts alone?
Excuses, excuses. No one understood this better than him.
Yet he grumbled to himself one last time, 'Write something literal, they said. A good story is easy to read.' | 2017-01-30T08:45:51 | 2017-01-30T08:28:09 | 287 | 26 |
[WP] The English Teacher's worst nightmare: a story or poem that is completely literal, with absolutely no double meanings
EDIT: Holy cow, this got way bigger than I thought it would, thanks so much for an awesome first prompt ever!
EDIT 2: Did this actually make it to the front page of reddit? What the... | In my stomach
a lurch suddenly hit
a telltale fact
that I would need to take a shit
I made in time
this one is a butt scraper
Then to my horror,
No toilet paper
**NOTE** I may have been a bit crass, but I dare an English teacher to find meaning in a poem about going to the bathroom
| Write something literal, they said. A good story is easy to read. A good story is easy to remember. A good story tells you a story. It doesn't preach. It doesn't moralise. It doesn't claim to know more than the eye can see. Write something literal, they said.
The writer stared at his computer screen in front of him. He stared at a blank document. He typed a few words, deleted it. It didn't work. Not literal enough.
'Let's start with a poem,' he thought, 'let's make about a little girl trying to decipher it, unable to peel beyond the first layer. A young child taking her first steps into the adult world. You can't get more literal than that.'
'Or maybe it should be about that *chaiwallah*. He's out there selling tea from his bicycle all night at the corner of the street. He's not supposed to be there. I once even saw the police chase him away. But he was back the next day. Maybe he saw something heinous, but he can't tell anyone. After all, he's not even supposed to be there. Pure suffering. You can't get more literal than that.'
But the open document in front of him remained blank. His eyes got bleary, his fingers were numb. But the document remained blank. For nothing he could think of sufficed the expectations. Nothing he could write meant just what he meant. It wasn't his fault, he reasoned. It was the readers, he claimed, conveniently laying the blame at heir doorstep. Why did they have to read more into it than what he meant? Why couldn't they just leave his thoughts alone?
Excuses, excuses. No one understood this better than him.
Yet he grumbled to himself one last time, 'Write something literal, they said. A good story is easy to read.' | 2017-01-30T09:54:13 | 2017-01-30T08:28:09 | 139 | 26 |
[WP] You are a god who wants their very own universe, but you don't really know how to make one. | "Look! I just finished it." I said.
"What's that stuff?"
"I just made stuff, all with different reaction to other stuff."
"That's not how it work. Why did you put so much stuff there?"
"Ah... Well..." I took a deep breath "You know, eventually..." I looked at him "You know what, it's because I'm gonna spread it all. Didn't think of that, did you?"
"You don't have enough space idiot, it already take all the space"
"I'll make more."
"More space? I thought you had it all figured out."
"No! I meant... ehh... It'll expand, see? That's why I made so much." I added it in.
"Oh, that's why you didn't put any border. I was wondering."
"Border? Yeah... that's exactly why... You're pretty smart."
"But, you know if it just expands indefinitely then there won't be enough of the stuff. It will be too thined out."
I started to sweat "I'll... That's because I'll... I'll make this thing that's gonna make matter stick together." I named the process Grvty and quickly inserted it.
"Why not just make it stop expanding after a while?"
I should've done that "That's too easy, I wanna be original."
"Hmm... How much cliopsis did you put in there?"
"I can't tell you that, that's a secret." I looked at my universe. What's cliopsis, I didn't put any.
He looked at me.
I looked at him "What?"
"Let's be honest, it won't last for even a single cycle. I'd be suprised if it last a few billion years."
"that's not true" I said "Look."
I started the universe and it exploded.
| The streams of consciousness from Vorin's people were now cumbersome. How long had it been? Eons, Millions of them, and yet here I was an impotent god. Could I be a god then if no one knew I was there?
I watched disconsolately as Vorin went on to create his tenth universe, now interlinking them. Mari's people had already discovered and traveled through their universe to the other 3 he'd made. They were discovering rules even I didn't know existed. Zera only had one universe, but it overshadowed anything anyone else had by quasars and light years. 10000 galaxies hosting life in it.
Was it fair that they got to grow their own to their hearts content, while I, impotent, streamed through having to contend with being lower than an afterthought? I, one of the oldest was watching some younger than me create their own. Surely, one like Akris, with 300 small universes had more than enough. Would Akris even notice if I took one?
I streamed through, searching in his pillars of creation, he was so busy and he left his work unguarded. There it was. I went with it into the void, the nothingness would hide me. As I made the finishing touches words streamed through.
"Mentoc, what have you done?" It was Akris.
"Done? I have done nothing, for eons I have sat here idly forgotten by the rest of you as you worked on your worlds."
"Someone took a universe I was working on," he replied.
"Well I made my peace a long time ago with not having a universe, Are you coming to ridicule me more than I am already ridiculed?"
He held his tongue.
"I have nothing of yours."
"If you say so," Akris replied. "Most who've made universes know that there is no point in stealing it as it is. It is missing a crucial piece and when this piece is not placed at the right time it can become unstable. An unstable universe is not something to trifle with."
"Yes, yes I know I've seen you do this many, many times are accusations all you bring or can I now have the salutations I deserved when you came." Akris looked at me scornfully. Although he was gone in a moment, I knew he did not believe a single word. He would be back, most likely not alone. I needed to hide it until it was ready.
As I made the adjustments to move it I saw it shaking in violent fury. It's atoms were unstable, light was not obeying the laws I set. The gravity was too weak. What was that piece Akris talked about?
It started to expand too quick. I called out to Akris, there was no response. There was no time, I only had one planet with life seeds. I had to save it. "Earth" I called it. I wrapped my essence around the universe ready to absorb its force. We went further into the void somewhere it would not do damage to others.
"I'm sorry," I whimpered holding tight.
There was a big bang.
***
/r/pagefighter | 2017-04-26T08:50:53 | 2017-04-26T07:40:36 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] You are a god who wants their very own universe, but you don't really know how to make one. | "Look! I just finished it." I said.
"What's that stuff?"
"I just made stuff, all with different reaction to other stuff."
"That's not how it work. Why did you put so much stuff there?"
"Ah... Well..." I took a deep breath "You know, eventually..." I looked at him "You know what, it's because I'm gonna spread it all. Didn't think of that, did you?"
"You don't have enough space idiot, it already take all the space"
"I'll make more."
"More space? I thought you had it all figured out."
"No! I meant... ehh... It'll expand, see? That's why I made so much." I added it in.
"Oh, that's why you didn't put any border. I was wondering."
"Border? Yeah... that's exactly why... You're pretty smart."
"But, you know if it just expands indefinitely then there won't be enough of the stuff. It will be too thined out."
I started to sweat "I'll... That's because I'll... I'll make this thing that's gonna make matter stick together." I named the process Grvty and quickly inserted it.
"Why not just make it stop expanding after a while?"
I should've done that "That's too easy, I wanna be original."
"Hmm... How much cliopsis did you put in there?"
"I can't tell you that, that's a secret." I looked at my universe. What's cliopsis, I didn't put any.
He looked at me.
I looked at him "What?"
"Let's be honest, it won't last for even a single cycle. I'd be suprised if it last a few billion years."
"that's not true" I said "Look."
I started the universe and it exploded.
| John groaned as he saw Mike walking towards him, grinning from ear to ear. He already knew what Mike has to say and buried his head behind his book. Perhaps Mike would ignore him if he stayed hidden.
The sound of Mike's bag hitting the table, however, told John otherwise. He lifted his eyes just slightly above the edge of his book. "Look, if you're here to make fun of what happened yesterday, please leave," John said, before hiding his head back.
Mike chuckled as he sat next to John. He slung his arms over his buddy's shoulder, pulling him closer. "Come one, John, it was your first day on the server. It's not unusual for people to take some time to blend in."
John thought about what Mike said and then to the memory of him puking yesterday. Lydia's world was designed in such a ridiculous way that all the dimensions were mixed up. Top was down, left was right. For someone who cannot even sit on spinning teacups, it was too much for John to handle.
John snapped his book shut. "It's just not Lydia's world, alright? You remember the previous one, Sean's universe? I almost peed in my pants! Who else can beat my record of the most accidents in a virtual sim?"
"Well, Sean's world can get a little scary, he's a horror fan after all," Mike tried to remedy their situation. For the past few months both friends have tried to find a universe on the web that they're comfortable with for their assimilation. But somehow none seemed to fit.
Their deadline was less than a week away, and if they missed it, they would have to spend the rest of their life as part of the awakened, just like their parents, an option that both hated more than Sean's universe.
John stared at the dark clouds above him. "You know, I just want a simple universe. One without people flying, weird monsters or some really strange fetish. Maybe magic, but that's it."
Mike stared at his friend. "I get you John, but unless we can create our own universe, we got to pick one of others'."
John sighed at Mike's words. If he had only spend more time in coding class, he would have been able to program his own universe, in any way that he saw fit. But Mr Lecter was incredibly boring, and John could not shake the feeling that Mr Lecter was teaching the class because he had no choice to.
It was then when an idea hit John. He tugged at Mike's sleeves. "Hey you remember how fatty Lecter was saying he was building a prototype universe builder? One that allows you to convert movies into real universes?"
Mike's eyes lightened up at John's words. He sat closer. "That's an absolutely brilliant idea! That way we don't have to worry about coding!"
John nodded his head. There was no need for him to be an awakened any longer. He pictured how grand his universe would be, with him as the god. Piloting starships or riding dragons. he elbowed Mike's shoulder. "So Mike, what do you think of a Star Wars or Skyrim universe?"
Mike, however, started blushing. "Well, I was thinking more of a Twilight universe actually."
------------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-04-26T08:50:53 | 2017-04-26T07:36:24 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] An immortal is experiencing the heat death of the universe, when he can hear the sounds of confetti, and blasting music. The music stops with a record scratch, and a bewildered voice can be heard saying: "Wait...one's still here?" | "Now hang on a second, this isn't right. How did you get immortality?"
"Genie."
"A genie? No that doesn't make sense. Wait a second. Guys, did anyone put a genie in this one? No? No, I'm sorry friend, we're quite certain there were no genies in this universe."
"I'm telling you, I found a genie on the planet Earth."
"Earth? Hang on. Hmm - gosh, that hasn't been around for trillions of years! Let me dig out the records."
"Has it been trillions?"
"Oh my yes, have you just been floating there ever since?"
"Yeah. I got to watch The Milky Way and Andromeda collide, that was pretty cool."
"What have you been doing ever since?"
"The wish apparently kept my mind as healthy as my body. I've just been day dreaming. It's been dull but I'm not a ruin of a mind or anything."
"Well that's good. Ok, I have Earth here now. Let me see. Floyd, Earth was yours, wasn't it? This looks awfully like a genie to me. What's that? *Flavour*? We agreed no genies in this universe. You've gone and left this fellow floating for trillions of years. No, no, I don't want to hear your excuses. I'm terrible sorry about all this, friend. Well, we can snuff you out now if you like. We've got root control."
"Any other options?"
"I suppose we could pull you from the simulation and instantiate you in the top-level universe, if you like?"
"Yeah let's do that."
"Alrighty. What? I don't care if it's against policy. Get him a body ASAP. If he's lucky he'll be up and about in time for cake." | So. Much. Sex.
The months leading up to the sun going tits-up was filled with riots, looting, lawlessness. Anyone capable of working on a solution were locked in labs and offices with MRE's and a time-limit, while the rest of the world burned itself to the ground well before things got toasty. About 30 minutes before T-time, it was as if humanity, collectively said 'F**k it!' And literally did just that. Some biological switch humanity never discovered just flipped, and everyone started doing the horizontal tango as if the combined thrusting of every human alive might actually jostle the earth to safety. I've had to break more bones in the last 28 minutes than the last two centuries combined just to turn wandering uncoupled men away.
I'm Eva, by the way. I'm one of Adam and Eve's great grand children, although I didn't quite share the family resemblance. It was normal back then to live a nice long life, but once i hit my 300th birthday and just started puberty, my family figured they should distance themselves- just in case i was something 'unholy'. After the first century, everything turned into a blur, much like daydreaming while looking out the car window.
I have tried dying so many times. From being crucified, eaten by wild animals, guns, canons, I've tried strapping cement to my legs and jumping in the middle of the ocean (very dark down there by the way, lots of creepy looking fish). I finally gave up after actively chasing witch hunters in full costume casting 'spells' and shouting gibberish.
But here I am, in the middle of the street, watching the world get brighter. My eyes closed, arms are open wide, I'm ready to embrace oblivion. My sweet oblivion.screams and fire around me, light brighter than creation. The world, humanity vaporizes beneath my feet.
*POP* *Tweeeeeee*
The sound of confetti poppers and noisemakers remind me of too many new years celebrations. My eyes snap open to reveal a swanky bar with a sizable crowd, all dressed as if attending an after-party that follows a business meeting: some in suits, others in less formal blazers and cocktail dresses.
"My.... my oblivion?" I could hear myself whimper (i couldn't help it, dammit). It wasn't loud, but it still caught the attention of a buxom woman in a 'very' flattering evening gown.
"You're not supposed to be here" she said in a bemused sort of way. She floated next to me and put her finger to my temple oh so gently, and the sound that a ketchup bottle makes when you squeeze air out of it fills my head.
"Ow." I said. It really did hurt. I look over and see much of the contents of my head across the wall. The lady's expression goes from bemused to hardened steel behind a fake smile as she waves her hand and puts my head back together.
In a sickly sweet voice she turns her head towards the crowd and says, loudly "Oh Zeus, my husband, you have some more explaining to do." | 2017-05-03T06:37:16 | 2017-05-03T06:09:13 | 395 | 39 |
[WP] An immortal is experiencing the heat death of the universe, when he can hear the sounds of confetti, and blasting music. The music stops with a record scratch, and a bewildered voice can be heard saying: "Wait...one's still here?" | Everything went silent. He witnessed as the last supermassive black holes finally faded from hawking radiation, as it has been long since any stars have ceased to exsist.
Tha immortal was now alone, floating through the endless void of space.
"Ok...what now?" He thought, when suddenly he could her ... something....
He listened more carefully- it was music, he was sure of it- but how? If he is the only thing to still exsist in the universe?
He kept listening- it sounded like a party almost- music, people talking, laughing, then he heared one voice louder than the rest:
"Well folks- here we are! The end of the universe! Hope you enjoyed your time with us tonight. The time turbines will soon reverse and you can take the elevators to your cars. Make sure to catch up on our next show at the big bang burger bar! Lets give thanks to all the staff here tonight and to the band!"
The immortal was puzzled. But it seemed like he was floating in the direction the sound was coming from. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light.
The immortal suddenly found himself... somewhere. If felt like he was on solid ground- but it didnt exsist anymore- or did it?
He looked around. Above him he saw a creature. The being looked back at him. The immortal was suprised and asked:
"Where am i? What is going on?"
"Welcome" the being answered "welcome, to the restaurant at the end of the universe".
Edit: spelling | After all this the I still remember the experiment. I became something else that day. 3rd May 2030, according to the human dating system back then.
Humans. I remember them. Perhaps my biggest accomplishment was getting in a spaceship before they blew themselves up.
I've seen space empires rise and fall.
I've seen an entire galaxy artificially destroyed.
And now I've seen them all slowly die naturally. Here I am at the very end.
And finally I'm ready to die. "Immortal" was a good word to describe me for billions of years. But soon, my combined solar, nuclear and hydrogen power system will fail. Finally, I'll be the last to know, what comes after death. Different species with different beliefs, but all with the common desire for something.
Then I hear something unexpected. Music. Naretti party music. I'm in the middle of space, hows that even possible? Perhaps I've finally gone insane. Then I see confetti in the distance.
I've lost it in my final moments. Perhaps after all this time my mind cannot properly process my impending death.
The current song ends and switches to Farni party tunes. Goodness me they had wacky tunes to suite their unusual ears.
Suddenly a record scratch sound.
"Wait... One's still here?" Says a loud, booming, bewildered voice. A somehow familiar voice.
"Yes" I find myself saying.
"Our records show that is the human, Simon Weston" says another, loud booming voice, somehow familiar.
"I prefer the name Immortalis" I replied.
"Perhaps more fitting for, how you say, the last man standing?" Says a third familiar booming voice.
"Wait, your the Anasgarg, right? The species that believed in Ascension?" I ask.
"Precisely, by my calculations you have a few hours before that system of yours fails. So you have two ways you can join us. It's the same ending, but I believe you'll find one route more rewarding perhaps." replied the first voice.
The universe feel dark and silent.
Ascend or die, did it matter?
Somehow it did to me, and I started to recall everything I had learnt about Anasgarg ascension, made alot easier due to my half computer brain.
It'd be a shame to die after all these millennia.
I let myself slip into meditation. My bodily form isn't necessary. Knowing this for certain felt like cheating, the Anasgarg had faith, I had knowledge.
My disadvantage was being so familiar with my unchanging body, which I now had to abandon.
I remembered back to the times I hated what I was and reflected on my long wait for the universe heat death.
Suddenly an unexpected memory. An old lady, the only person I ever loved, dying.
"You'll see me again one day I promise. Just let go" she croaked.
I let my hand leave hers and I let my soul leave my body. | 2017-05-03T06:09:03 | 2017-05-03T05:49:32 | 66 | 33 |
[WP] Humans are one of if not the only species in the galaxy who can heal their wounds naturally. Your alien friend is learning this for the first time after they accidentally hurt you
Apologies for the wordy title | "OH YOUR GODS! I HAVE DESTROYED YOU!" Thorlax the Secretary screamed pitifully. I'd tripped over his tentacle jowls for the seven billionth time since we'd started hanging out. This time the stairs had been on the far side of my stumble and I'd landed badly at the bottom. My knee had dislocated, it was disturbing seeing the oval joint on the side of my knee. Luckily I was in shock and the pain hadn't made it all the way to my brain.
"Thorlax the Secretary," I had to refer to him by his full title, it was an alien quirk where job title was as much their identity as the clan name. Individual names weren't encouraged or required. Somehow there was never confusion - maybe it was a hive mind thing, "Call nine-one-one. They'll come to help."
Thorlax the Secretary emerged a minute later with a kitchen knife in one of his seven hands, as well as a phone, cast iron pan and a towel.
"Do they have a humane way to put you down?" He sobbed.
"No... they'll just come and pop it back in place. I'll have to go to the hospital. But, if you cover the bills no foul. Stop crying man. I'll get a cast, it's cool."
"What?"
"Look if you're gonna freak out just hand me the phone."
"But... your leg is dead, how will you survive?" He extended a blue limb cautiously and gave me the phone.
"It'll heal up, they just throw some plaster on it and it'll be good as new."
"What kind of technology is that?"
"Just some tough material to make sure it doesn't slip out of place until it settles back into place?"
"Like using some sort of surgery?"
I just shook my head and called the ambulance. I'd explain it slowly once there was help on the way.
| nd"Thomas!" Hinx panicked as he ran over. "Thomas! Say something! Say anything!!"
"Owwww..." Tom breathed as he laid still in the dirt. "This could have gone better..."
"I swear that the photon cannon was set to 'Stun'!" Hinx continued.
"Never point a gun at something you don't intend on shooting, remember?" Tom explains from the ground for the third time.
"Right. I'm sorry." Hinx reminded himself.
"What was the other part I was explaining Hinx. Before you blasted me through the wall??" Tom chided in anguish.
"Always treat a gun as if it's loaded." Hinx thought aloud.
"Good... You remember." Tom said as he sat up. "Now then-"
Hinx suddenly began screaming in horror, the pitched wailing sending a horrific cacophony bouncing through out the neighborhood.
"WHAT'S WRONG NOW?!" Tom yelled at an equal volume.
"Your... Your labor appendage." Hinx pointed in horror.
"My what?" Tom thought. Then he looked down. Apparently he'd been hurt worse than he thought. His left arm was twisted halfway down at a bad angle. He didn't feel it, but he could tell, it was broken.
"Ohhhh... OHHHHHHHHHH." Tom reacted in disgust.
"I'm sorry I killed you!!" Hinx continued regrettably.
If there's one thing Tom wasn't prepared for; it was a 7'5" lizard man freaking out over the fact that he'd broken Tom's arm in a freak photon accident. Hinx had calmed down some, and the chaotic expression had turn to one of confusion.
"Well don't just stand there!" Tom motioned.
"Aren't you dead??" Hinx asked quickly.
"Wat." Tom said as he held his arm at a better angle.
"Oh no!" Hinx gasped again suddenly, "My human coworker is now a residual manifestation of his Earth's 5 dimension. Please noble being. Forgive me for the destruction of my friend Tom!"
"Hinx I'm still alive." Tom reminded him as he stood up.
"How is that even feasible." Hinx said as he pointed at the limb again, "Your labor appendage has been broken."
"Oh, I just broke my arm is all." Tom explained "Probably did it when you shot me through the wall."
"But how will you heal yourself?" Hinx asked quickly, "We do not have a sick bay nearby. You will surely die."
"Actually, if we go to the ER, they'll patch it up, and I'll get a cast."
"A cast??" Hinx asked. "But your mortal injury..."
"It'll heal Hinx. Just a month or two should do it."
"Remarkable, humans can self heal from wounds." Hinx said as he pulled up his holodeck lens, "There aren't many species that can do that. It's a superpower. Just like those books of Earth I read. Tom, doesn't this mean you can fly??
"Actually, I might be in shock, so do you mind taking me to the hospital?"
"Oh, right." Hinx stammered, "That's the giant building full of those symbols with the flags that had that weird thing about crosses and shut?"
"I need medical attention." Tom said quickly as Hinx opened the transport deck and setup an ambulance to come by. | 2017-05-10T23:10:57 | 2017-05-10T22:40:13 | 237 | 94 |
[WP] You have $86,400 in your bank and someone steals $10. You spend all the rest of your money trying to get revenge. | Jun-18 $10.00 (disputed)- North Hill Cashpoint
Jun-19 $35.99 (card) - Grant's CCTV
Jun-19 $200 (online transaction) - Wiring for beginners E-learning
Jun-20 $140. 50 (card) - Edmund's electrical supplies
Jun-20 $450 (online transaction) - Cloud CCTV storage systems
Jun-20 $1000 (card) - Bennett's Professional PI services
Jun-21 $200 (card) Gate world- Consultation fee
Jun-21 $1200 (card) Gate world- Products and Installation
Jun-22 $5200 (card) Gunz Gunz Gunz
Jun-22 $150 (card) Easthill shooting range
Jun-23 $1000 (card) - Bennett's Professional PI services
Jun-23 $5000 (transfer) Strength Armour vehicle services inc- deposit
Jun-24 $802.99 (online transaction) - Steven's Security- Tracking equipment
Jun-26 $32, 899 (transfer) - Strength Armour vehicle services inc- Remaining balance
Jun-26 $150 (card) - Gunz Gunz Gunz
Jun-27 $500 (card) - Brasenose and Philips lawyers
Jun-27 $120.01 (card) - Pete's Petrol
Jun-27 $5.00 (card) - Southern Phone- North Hill Police station
Jun-27 $5000 (transfer) - Brasenose and Philips
Aug-23 $32, 246.51 (transfer) - Government Victim restitution fund
Aug-24 +$10.00 (transfer) - Northern courts
Aug-30 $10.00 (transfer) - Government Victim restitution fund
Remaining balance- $0.00
Be nice, first writing prompt and I don't know how to format!
| When you put things down on paper, things sound stupid, this phase usually begins once you start to question your actions. Now this, my friends, is a stupid story and it all began the day I won the darn money.
"34, 37, 12, 96, 25" screamed the radio during the warm and slightly humid month of August. I looked at the damp ticket in my hand and turns out they were the magical numbers. I was thrilled to have won something like this. Never had I ever held faith in something like this. "Lucky me!" I thought to myself as I made my way to the radio station in my beat up Ford. The transaction was quicker than I thought it would be and I crawled tiredly into my cramped, shit hole of an apartment. Things were looking so good for me and I was happy, really really happy. I could now easily pay my alimony. I decided not to rush it and deposited all the money into bank.
I sat down on my couch and tried to relax, but this was overwhelming, it really was. I called up my bud Jake and told him about the news. No one really knows you until you got the dough (hey don't judge me, I know 80k doesn't qualify to be "dough" but it is a lot). I was a relatively lonely human being. I worked at the local laundromat. It had a crappy pay and I was borrowing money from my parents to pay for the house. Jake and I went to have some pizza, I obviously insisted that I would pay. 30$, nothing fancy. Turns out Jake the cunt saw me enter my pin and made a transaction on the internet. My phone beeped and a link led me to the purchase. It was a Minecraft player skin. I called up Jake but he must've blocked me. I was enraged, I head out to the bank to get my pin changed. I never knew where Jake lived, we met up at the occasional party and then at the Bar, but that was about it.
I was determined to find out where this guy lived, he stole my 10$. I needed to find him. In these scenarios money doesn't play a major role no matter how it sounds, it's the individuals shortcomings that do. I flipped through craigslist and found a private detective willing to search for the guy at just 10$ an hour, it was a steal. Two months quickly ran by, I was chilling in my new apartment when I got a phone call from my guy, "YOU GOT SCAMMED, YOU DUMB SHIT"
No worries. I hire two private detectives this time. One to track Jake and one to track the guy from craigslist. I quickly drained 30 grand over the next 3 months.
Finally, my guy found Jake. He was in Ohio. I then killed him in an alleyway and a homeless man saw me commit the crime and even recorded it on his flip phone. I was convicted of 1st degree murder and plead guilty. I lost the rest of my money paying my lawyer. But whatever. Jake can't use his dumb Minecraft skin now.
I am sorry that this story is full of shit. I don't know how to write and would appreciate tips | 2017-07-18T09:40:22 | 2017-07-18T09:02:52 | 609 | 16 |
[WP] When a twin dies their brother/sister acquires all their strength, intelligence, etc. You've just discovered this phenomena, but so has your brother/sister | I looked up from the book.
He looked back at me.
"You believe this shit?"
He nods.
"If I kill you, I get your powers?"
He nods again.
"And if you kill me, you get mine?"
Another nod.
We sit in silence. His cereal looks soggy.
"You read these books back in high school. So, you knew the whole time?"
Again - the nod.
"Why haven't you killed me then?"
Finally, he speaks.
"You're kinda shit at everything."
| Jaime looked at me, his arctic irises digging into mine. He sprinted, bare-handed, in my direction. Softly, I position my left foot, in preparation. As the avalanche comes near me, I dart under his outreached left arm, and as he slows in reaction, I kick him in the side.
Breathe. I have to breathe if I'm going to win.
He takes a second to recuperate, I should have taken the chance. He gets up, lowers his center of gravity, and walks toward me with wide steps. I lower my center of gravity, and stay where I am. This time, he stands still in challenge, offering me the chance to catalyze the match. I crouch so that my helmet is level with his gut. Then I rush him, as he's trying to get me into a hold, I slide between his legs, swivel my foot and push. I successfully throw him, but as I do he grabs my shoulder and brings me down with him.
Together we lay on the floor, struggling to get a hold or to break one. He gets me into a half nelson, which he knows I'll break. He's prepared for it when I do, he gets me into another headlock and I yield after about half a second. He had me, it was over.
"Helluva move, Jaime."
"Thanks Carly, I saw Hulk Hogan do something like that on WWE."
"You're saying I should watch that 'really real restling' if' I'm gonna win?"
"Are you winning right now?"
It's a good thing he knows how to take a punch, because I know how to give one.
"What time do you want to train tomorrow?"
"You're killing me Jaime."
"If that's what we have to do to get better, I don't mind so much."
Somehow those eyes are so much softer when he's outside the ring. | 2018-02-25T08:05:44 | 2018-02-25T04:45:16 | 5,212 | 22 |
[WP] As a child, every adventurer is assigned a class for their life. You've been assigned to be a White Mage. Dreading a life in the background saving a bunch of idiots that get all the glory, you aim to carve your own path. Tell the tale of the Harmacist. | It is not the wound that kills people. It is the healing. That is the pretext with which I studied the holy arts. An improperly mended bone or muscle, a “heal” cast to close a septic wound without purifying it. That was my preferred method. Monsters with strong self healing capabilities were easiest to deal with. Ramp up what’s already there and the body will destroy itself. It only took a little cut to start the process that would lead to crippling agonizing death. The more I killed the easier it became to find those seeking my skills. The church branded me anethma, the mages categorium a heretic. They cower now when being healed, not sure if my disciples are in their ranks. Harmacist has become a profession acknowledged by the world, and we are on the front line of every battlefield. Our oath is simple: “what can be mended can be perverted. What can be purified can be sullied. We wear the white and embrace the dark. All paths forward lead to us.” | "Re\-spec," I said.
"Wot's that?" replied the half\-orc quartermaster, his half\-helm resting halfway down the left half of his half\-horned head. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, tilting his open ear towards me. "'Scuse me, maggot, what'd ye say?!"
"I *said* 'I want to re\-spec,' half\-breed! I'm not interested in healing, the reports should have shown this, make me a Black Mage or a Red Mage or even a Bard, just not\-\-"
The quartermaster interrupted with a chuckle, a low rumble at first, revving up into a full\-bellied guffaw. After a few moments he wiped his eyes and settled back in his chair. "'At ain't how this works, elfy\-boy. Y'are what y'are. Now take yer quest log and get outta my sight."
I picked up the log and glanced at its first page.
>Level 1 Quest: Cure What Ails You.
>
>Cast Cure I on 10 other players.
>
>Reward: Boots of Slightly Better Cure I
My brow furrowed deeper with each word. When I looked back at the quartermaster, he was shooing me away with his hands as a stout warrior\-type shouldered past me to obtain his orders.
I sighed and turned to leave, checking my spellbook.
>Spells:
>
>Cure I: Heal 10 HP.
>
>Smite: Deal 10 Holy Damage.
*Well, at least I have the ability to deal damage,* I thought.
I checked my log again for any other quests. There was a glitch in the bottom right, a small square that was fading in and out. I tapped it and a new quest appeared, pixelated and blurry but mostly legible:
>Level ?? Quest: Assisted Suicide
>
>"Forget" to heal other players and deal 50,000 holy damage to NPCs.
>
>Rewards: Staff of Escaped Fate, Garments of Destruction, The Crown of Lucifer, Boots of Exquisite Smiting.
>
>Title: The Harmitist
A cheeky grin spread across my face as a realization dawned on me.
*They may have made me a White Mage*, I thought. *But they can't make me a Healer.*
edit: formatting | 2018-05-16T12:09:31 | 2018-05-16T08:53:51 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] You go to hell, only to find out that hell has been overturned by humans. Turns out gathering billions of the most wicked of human, among them are several ruthless but brilliant rulers, commanders, and dictators, whom can no longer die, isn't such a good idea after all. | Hell was a terrible place.
I know that was an understatement but I felt that it had to be said and for the record I’d like to also say that I don’t deserve this.
What was this might you ask?
This, was being surrounded by history's greatest (or worst depending on your definition) killers in human history.
They were all in a meeting, wondering what to do with me.
“We should throw him out.” Yelled Hitler. “He doesn’t belong here!”
“Quiet you!” Answered Emperor Palpatine. “We need all the bodies we can get!”
“Hey!” I cried out. “I like Hitler’s idea! I don’t belong in Hell at all!”
“No no no.” A well dressed man answered. “He’s not talking about throwing you out of Hell, he’s talking about throwing you out of this building.”
“Uhhh.”
“Oh, where are my manners? I am Professor Moriarty, I am sure you’ve heard of my exploits?”
I hadn't. “Of course!” He didn’t seem to believe me but was polite enough to not show it. “So what’s so bad about outside? Fire?”
“No, something worse.” The killers of every time period shuddered as one. “Let me ask you a question, where do you think dogs go when they die?”
“Heaven?”
“Most of them, yes, now… where do you think Wasps go?”
It was then that I heard some buzzing and the shattering of glass.
Moriarty for once seemed off put. “Let me just tell you this boy, there aren’t just killers here in Hell, they also put in the ass holes, the pranksters and let’s just say that somewhere in that mix Hell also got Wasp breeders.”
Wasp breeders? Why the Hell would you want more Wasps? My vision was soon covered by a buzzing mess of rage and from then on I knew nothing but pain.
| Trumpets blasted in the air. The sound was making the hairs on my skin stand up straight. That plus the view of millions of people screaming and running towards a group of demons.
I tried to keep up while the first humans reached the demons. They may have been dead already but the demons made sure nothing was left. Their claws and teeth went straight true the weak human flesh and bones.
How would we ever win this war? What change did we have against fallen angels? Demons from hell? It was Alexander the Great himself who had set up this battle plan. Him and his valuable generals. All old rulers themself. Some ruled parts of the earth so long ago nobody rememberd them. Others where more from my time. Stalin, Hitler, Mao, Qadaffi, Putin and so many more.
Over the last 53 years they had worked on a plan to take over Hell itself. First in secret but 53 years is a long time. Slowly their plans started to leak and more and more people wanted to help. Their centuries of experience in battle came together in todays plan. And here i was running. Just running towards demons. Was that the best they could do?
I mean i wouldnt mind getten ripped in peaces. Hell was shitty anyway, but serieus? This was it? At that moment i saw how thousands of humans run over a demon. We where simply to many and to fast. As soon as the dirst demon fell more followed. A deep raw sounded true the vallei of dead. We millions of humans felt a victory. We screamend, we yelled.
My feet stepped into blood and bones. Human but also demon. I could smell it. Was this it? Was this how we would take over hell?
At that moment a sound so deeply, so frightening sounded. It made our voices sound like mouses. Again the hair on my skin stood up but this time because of fair. Everybody knew this sound. It was the Devil himself. The angel of death. The nightmare of us all. A shadow casted itself over us. And far above us an dragon like beast apeared. It moved closer. Fastly.
While the shadow got darker i saw how in the distance Alexander moved his hands. So far away but still so powerfull. Did he have a plan for this? It must be. Fire came down from satan his mouth. Burning so many of us. It left a burnend highway of ashes towards the end of vallei. With a sharp movement he turned around. Ready for a second run. Right at that moment earth disappeared and man build machines popped up. Stones attached to ropes made of humanparts got shot towards the Devil. Attacking him from the back. At the same time humans riding captured demons flew in, attacking this almighty beast from every side.
At that moment i myself reach a demon and fight for my dead. Alone i would not stand a change, but we are with so many. I get pushed against the demon and can barely breath. All i can do is bite. So i bite. I will eat myself true his revolting skin. It tastes like nothing i ever tasted before. So discusting, so intense. I feel my bones in my body breaking from all the preasure. I keep eating. I scream, i bite, i cry, i dig. Slowly it gets dark before my eyes.
| 2018-06-17T19:10:54 | 2018-06-17T18:55:02 | 38 | 12 |
[WP] You're a king who just wanted a day off from ruling, so you disguised yourself and went into town alone. You then find yourself trapped in a meeting about how the people are planning to overthrow and kill you tonight. | I was, as they say, the youngest king to ever rule. It never felt like ruling, though. All the advisers and teachers and so forth knew far more than I did, and it had worked before, so why would I think that I could make a change? It would only go badly, they said. As the king, I could, of course, demand differently; once, I did just that. I ordered my court to decrease taxes only a single copper piece. For the next six weeks, I was forced to listen to politician after simpering politician tell me how they were unable to feed, clothe, or wash their own behinds because of the terrible loss of money that they had suffered through, until finally I gave in and raised taxes back to what they were. My advisers simpered and murmured and convinced me that no matter what happened, I could never really rule. Even if I gave an order, it would be perverted and half-heartedly followed until either I gave in, or they ruined enough of the kingdom that the people would revolt. That was what I was lead to believe, anyway.
But not tonight. Tonight, I was going to see what my people were really like. I changed into my simplest clothes - still opulent, but less so once I climbed down my garden wall and rolled in the mud a bit. I traded a handful of gold crowns for a bigger handful of silver wreathes - a 5-to-1 trade, in their favor, but better than I expected - then traded some of those for some copper pieces a blindman had. I caught a clothier as he was closing, and managed to purchase a full outfit for only four copper pieces. A bit of an eye-opener, there; I had asked for less in my personal clothing budget just last month, and was pleased when they dropped it to only a hundred gold crowns a week!
I wandered, then, taking in the sights and sounds - and smells - of my city. No one recognized me; no big wonder there, of course. The face on our coins looked more like my head adviser than like me. I listened to the mutterings of those around me, and eventually caught a word - my name, actually. "Duncan, that foul minion of hades!" The speaker spat on the ground. "He taxes us until we have nothing left, then demands we bow and curtsy when he tours the city, stopping out work! Then he hands out a few silver and retires for the evening."
"Ha! Hands out silver? More like he pays others to hand it out. I've never seen so much as a hair from the man. Say... a few of us were going to meet at the Jolly Lion in - well, soon, actually. You might find it... intriguing."
I must say, I was intrigued; a meeting about me? I'd have to hear more of this. Especially the part about me coming out and handing out trinkets... I hadn't left the castle grounds since I was an infant. I fell in step behind them, and soon was swept up in the crowd of people milling about in front of the Jolly Lion. It was packed enough that a handful of people were standing at windows and relaying what was said inside to the crowd. Pushing my way inside, I found myself near the front of the crowd, listening to an angry farmer.
It didn't take long for me to realize what kind of meeting this was.
For a moment, I looked around for an exit, but there was no way for me to squeeze past the people behind me. As the speeches went on, and the people laid out grievance after grievance, I tried to slip through the crowd. It was beginning to get ugly. A new man stepped up onto the bar. "But if we kill the king, what's to stop someone just as bad from taking the throne?"
"There isn't! His advisers are just as bad as... uh..."
Too late, I stopped myself. The damage was already done. "Er... as he is."
Well, there was no stopping it now. "His advisers run all the day-to-day stuff. You know that; you've seen them around the city, extorting everyone!"
The crowd grumbled, but in a positive sort of way. Bolstered, I continued. "Who knows if the king is even alive? I mean... have you seen the king?"
More muttering. The man on the table squinted at me. "I have, once, a long time ago, when I worked at the keep... but honestly, if you said you were the king, I'd believe you."
I managed a faint chuckle. It was a good thing the lighting was bad.
"But there are others who \*have\* seen the king. The neighboring kingdoms, to name a few, have sent dignitaries over to visit. Surely they've seen him before."
They hadn't. My regent was certain I would mess things up, diplomatically speaking, and had me sent off to sign a bunch of useless documents.
"Moreso, does anyone else want to be king? We can't kill the king and expect life to suddenly improve. We do need roads, and an army. A council would be great, but isn't going to spring up overnight. And remember... what's going to happen to this king may well end up happening to the next king."
There was a murmur in the crowd again, until the man on the bar spoke. "You seem to know a great deal about organizing a kingdom, young man - more than Farmer Joseph, and certainly more than myself. If you were given the support of these good people, and the promise that you would be replaced with a council when one could be formed... would you be king?"
​
The rest, as they say, is history. I am quite happy to report that after our siege of the castle - which was helped tremendously by the fact that the captain of the guard was on our side - I was instated, temporarily, as king. I plan on joining the council when it is formed, but am even more happy to say that the "king" we killed turned out to be my head adviser, who was recognized as "that guy on the money." | "Your Majesty, are you sure you wanted to go to the town without any escort?"
"Yes, yes. Call it a sabbatical," King Ulbert said as he wave his aide away, "now just make sure to clear my schedule for today and not tell anyone about what I'm doing!"
The aide, putting on a worried face continued, "As you wish, Your Majesty."
King Ulbert nodded and quickly took out a set of 'normal clothing' out of his wardrobe. The 'normal clothing' consisted of a worn-out brownish shirt made out of cheap cotton, a pair of trousers of a darker shade from the shirt, and a thin grey robe with a hood on the top. With this, he would surely fit right in with the masses. The aide, wishing to give an input, handed him a leather belt and a rapier. King Ulbert scowled as he knew that a rapier is a favoured arm for the nobility within the court. Instead of the dainty rapier – which was almost exclusively used as a weapon for indoor sporting duels – the long sword would be more common to be wielded by the less well-off. This was due to the versatility of the long sword compared to the rapier when used for actual battle, technique-wise and use-wide. So King Ulbert opted to equip himself with a normal long sword that any city guard would use with an unadorned hilt to better conceal his true identity.
As the King was ready to embark on his little adventure to town, his aide drove a normal-looking carriage and dropped him off just outside the town – making sure no one could witness the King as he got off. He bid his farewell and immediately covered his face to make sure no one would identify him.
*Let's see now... Should I go to the town centre or the local pub?* He pondered as he walked into the town, avoiding all the guard that worked for the Nobility and the Court. Less than five minutes had passed when he heard a lot of commotion passing through the market up ahead. He wondered what would be the cause of the commotion? He knew there was no festival due for another month. He also knew that the market was not supposed to be this full, since it was not the weekend where citizens would buy groceries or other items on their day off. Curious, he followed the moving crowd onto the pub that he initially had thought of visiting anyway.
Once inside, he could hear all the loud shouting filled with laughter and cheering. He could smell the strong scent of alcohol mixed with the sweetness of grape and bitterness of hop at the same time. As he was not a drinker, he could feel a slight tinge of dizziness spreading in his head. That mixed with the stuffy, damp condition of the dark interior of the pub added to his not feeling well. Just as he was about to exit the building to get some fresh air, he heard a faint coordinated thumping followed by the sounds of "hear, hear". The King, having shaken off his earlier queasiness, sat down at one of the chairs a few metres away from the gathered crowd.
"... and so, my brothers! We shall not stand still and say nothing as the fuckers in Court fattened themselves up with the work that we have done tirelessly!" proclaimed the man who seemed to be the leader of this group.
*Huh?* King Ulbert, baffled by the statement he'd just heard, looked down to his belly. *Do I really look that fat?*
"I'm not suggesting that we put on a mob to start a riot around town, no! The bastard King and his dumb nobles would just put us down with their paid swords, like the last time..." the leader said with a more serious tone, "no, this time it would be different. It must be different!"
"U-Um, so what do you have in mind, Jer?" a man from within the audience asked.
"Well, apparently some of the men who work inside the Court had shown displeasure with the King..." another man who had been standing beside the leader said quietly.
"Yes! One of the men had even suggested that if we could somehow draw out the guards into the town, even just for a while, that they would initiate a coup," the leader said in a similarly hushed voice.
*W-Whoa, what the hell?*
King Ulbert had finally understand what the group had been talking about. He panicked and instinctively tried to cover more of his being as if he could totally disappear into his robe without anyone seeing. Of course, that had just been his fight-or-flight response at work – which decided flight, at least if hiding could be counted as one. But, thinking clearly on this, he definitely was not in a place where he would be safe. He could see that the men gathered at the pub had been listening in on to the group's discussion. What alarmed him was the sentiment of the rest of the clientele, most of whom cheered and giving the affirmative to what the leader of the group had said.
*Y-Yeah, I need to get the hell outta this place and inform my aide as well as the guards at the palace!* King Ulbert thought as he was about to make a run for the door.
The door was just within his reach, when suddenly a hand grasped his shoulder. When King Ulbert turned to see the owner of the hand, he could see a young woman with a pair of noticeable blue eyes looking into his.
"I know who you are," the young woman spoke.
Not knowing how to react – as the stakes were too high – King Ulbert stayed quiet and looked away. The young woman, however, shook him lightly as if to convey 'FOCUS UNTO ME!'
"Look, Your Majesty, I have no desire to turn you over to those lot there nor do I agree with their sentiment."
"... S-So... What? You saying I should trust you?" King Ulbert took a gamble by responding at all.
"I'm not an ardent supporter of you nor the nobility neither," the young woman suddenly took his hand in her own, "but I can help you right now."
"How?"
"I know of a secret exit on the back of the bar. If I took you there, you can even reach the outskirts of the town and make it back to the castle fast."
King Ulbert deliberated, "Right, so again I ask of you... Why should I trust you? What do you gain?"
"Cos, if you try exiting through the door right now, you'd find yourself bumping into some people that might recognise you so–"
"N-No, no, no. Again, I'm not convinced."
The young woman sighed. She immediately took out a small pouch and produced a golden brooch. The brooch was beautifully crafted and was in the form of a sigil quite similar to the King's own Royal Sigil.
"... How? This sigil?" he muttered.
"No time to explain, let's–"
"Hey! You two over there!" suddenly one of the brawny looking man stood over on the corner shouted at the two figure. His action attracted several of the people around them.
As he approach the two, the young woman whispered, "when I move, you go right through that door by the bar! I'll be with you in a few minutes."
When the man was within striking distance to the two, she drew two slender rapiers and stabbed the man right in the head with an elegant yet efficient thrust. The man fell as soon as she pulled her rapier off of his round robust head reminiscent of a watermelon.
"Run! What are you waiting for!" | 2019-06-01T16:12:19 | 2019-06-01T15:19:00 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | What the scans showed was impossible. Unheard of. Three potentially habitable planets in orbit around a single star. All within the acceptable temperature range, all with an oxygen-rich atmosphere. Granted, the readings from the second planet had some anomalies we couldn't explain, but it was hard enough finding a single habitable planet to colonize, especially when so many already contained intelligent life of their own. Finding three potential options at once was a miracle. The scouting mission was put together faster than I'd ever seen, and every single person in the program wanted to be on it. I was one of the lucky ones.
Our goal was to blaze a trail for the largest colonization effort in history. Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas. What we hoped for was paradise. What we found was tragedy. Our estimates of the star's lifespan were off by a few million years. It was well on its way toward becoming a red giant, and the innermost of the three garden worlds had already been scoured clean. The other two were intact, but well out of the habitable range. But as surprised as we were to find this beautiful yellow star already dying, nothing could have compared to what we found next.
The second of the three planets was surrounded by a massive amount of orbital debris, clearly artificial in nature. A perfect explanation for the anomalies in our readings, but one that would have been unthinkable to consider. Given the time it took for the light from this star to reach our research station, we were looking at the system as it was billions of years ago, long before intelligent life evolved in the galaxy. And yet, somehow, it was true. Somehow, intelligent life evolved on this planet faster than was ever thought possible. And just a few million years before our arrival, that life was wiped out.
Later expeditions found that towering buildings had once covered nearly the entire surface of the second planet, and much of the other two. Estimates of the number of inhabitants were staggering. Far greater than we thought could possibly be supported by three small worlds. We were desperate for evidence of the technology that had allowed them to support such a densely packed civilization, but found nothing. Whatever devices held their secrets weren't built to last.
Eventually, however, we discovered something different. A vault, built deep into the side of a mountain, containing vast stores of information that had survived the countless millennia unscathed. Here was where they had undoubtedly stored their most precious information. Scientists all over the galaxy were buzzing with excitement, wondering what new technology we might discover. Anthropologists begged to be allowed to examine the records to see what they could uncover about this ancient civilization. The government decided to share the information freely, and linguistic experts from countless species joined the effort to translate the language. Eventually, they succeeded, and the citizens on every world held their breath as they revealed what precious knowledge these ancient people had so carefully preserved.
They were names. Families. Sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, ancestors going back countless generations. Trillions of souls, preserved in memory by their connections to one another. A passionate plea from a long-dead people, saying "We remembered them. Please, remember us." And we did. To this day, many parents choose a name for their child by combing through the endless list we recovered. Julia Wagner. DeSean Williams. Li Wei Chen. Imani Abara. We don't know who they were, or how they felt being alone in the universe, but we remember them.
^(The inspiration for this story was the Granite Mountain Records Vault) | To find answers.
That was why we were here.
Discovering the marker had just been the start. Relics of extinct peoples were not all that uncommon.
Realizing how ancient it was tough, incomprehensibly so, had shaken our civilization.
The marker had included directions, and a seemingly simply term: home.
However none could explain why we recognized the term. It was note of our language, or any of the other known races. Yet any who viewed it immediately knew the meaning, and beyond that felt a longing for a place that they had never been, yet recognized as the place where they belonged.
Home.
What choice did we have but to go?
The place we arrived was underwhelming. A system done with it's life. Only a slowly cooling ember of a once warm star, and some icy giants remained.
This is the place, but there is no feeling of home.
But there is a signal. A small moon orbits the outer most ice giant, a pink and brown piece of ice orbiting a docile blue sphere. As soon as we entered the system, it called to us. A simple, repeating tone, yet one we could not ignore.
We land.
Before us is something that cannot be.
Upon the barren and lifeless moon there is a patch of green. Nothing seems to protect it from the vacuum all around, and yet it is obviously some sort of organic material; a grouping of short, thin leaf like protrusions from the ground. A plant of some sort, existing where life cannot.
Within the field is a simple structure. It appears to be a rough built house, with a covered deck, upon which sat a rocking chair. Someone is sitting in the chair, slowly rolling back and forth.
The rest of the team holds back, confused and perhaps fearful.
I am compelled though. I approach.
As I cross the threshold of the grass, my suit records another impossibility. Atmosphere. Perfectly breathable. I feel extra weight as well; the gravity has increased.
Without really thinking I take off and discard my helmet as I approach the figure in the chair. The air smells fresh, yet somehow nostalgic?
I am before the rocking figure. It stops rocking, and turns its head toward me. Its face is hidden within the recesses of a deep hood, but I can still tell it is looking at me.
I want to ask, but somehow I can no longer find words.
The figure breaks the silence. It's voice is feminine, rich and deep. It speaks in a tongue I have never heard. Yet I understand. "Welcome back child."
The question is forgotten, a new one momentarily taking it's place. "What do you mean?"
"We started out so hopeful," the being responds. "Surely in the infinite of the universe we would find others, but no matter how we looked, we could find no others." The words were tinged with an ineffable loneliness. "We decided to change that, and sent life into the cosmos. We waited so long, until we could wait no longer, but we did not want to leave you with nothing, so I welcome you as the first to return."
My head spun with the implications of what she said. The similarities between all the races of the stars, attributed to random panspermia was intentional. I could not quite wrap my head around it. But then the rest of what she said clicked. "Who are you?"
"A memory." The figure responded. "And a keeper of knowledge. For you have a question, do you not?"
I remembered. The question that had brought us here. An answer that only the first ones might have. "I want to know what it all means. Life, the universe, everything!"
The being stood. "We had the same question. We even found an answer. But we also something more." She opened the door to the house and held it for me. "Your answers await."
I stepped through.
.
.
.
I know the answers.
All of them.
And they don't matter.
For I am home.
​
Author's note: For those curious, the moon is Triton, the largest moon of Neptune. As the sun grows to it's maximum size and brightness as a Red Supergiant, this is possibly one of the last places in the solar system that will be able to harbor terrestrial life. though only for a few million years before the sun collapses down into a white dwarf. I find it a curious dichotomy as it is currently one of the coldest places in the solar system. Pluto's extremely elliptical orbit actually puts it closer to the sun that Neptune for part of it's year, making Triton actually more uniformly cold than everyone's favorite Dwarf Planet. It seemed like a fun place for humanities final bastion. | 2019-08-13T16:12:59 | 2019-08-13T16:08:01 | 42 | 11 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | The child stared up at the museum display in wonder, her 'ice cream' dripping onto the floor beside her. The nice lady at the shop had told Bo'tang that 'ice cream' was a treat humans used to eat during the Festival of Boga. The humans called the festival 'summer' in the English language and 'verano' in Spanish. Anyway, apparently this 'ice cream' was something humans would eat to stay cool when it got too hot. This type of ice cream was called 'chocolate'.
As Bo'tang lingered by the main display in the 'First Explorers' section of the Intergalactic History Museum, she looked at the area called 'Your Age in Human Years'. According to the display, if she were living on earth, she would be twelve years old. Bo'tang thought, 'You know you were an important species when an entire section of a museum is dedicated towards you.' She skipped over the parts she already knew about the so-called 'Cold War' and the Space Race. Why it was called the Cold War when lots of it took place over the summer, she didn't know. What she did know was that two amazing countries called 'the USA' and 'Russia' were so keen to expand their horizons beyond their planet that they went from no space travel at all to launching a satellite into orbit and landing on the Earth's only moon in less than one hundred years.
Bo'tang's mother called for her in the distance, but Bo'tang didn't want to go get lunch yet, she wanted to learn more about the humans. As she dilly-dallied, she noticed a grand display case in the center of a room off to the side, which held many artefacts recovered from the planet Earth. The first one was called the 'Tara Brooch', and it was apparently from a country called Ireland. Bo'tang eagerly read the description of the history of the item and gasped internally when she learned that this beautiful piece of art had been created more than two thousand years before humans went into space, before humans even had electricity. It was such a gorgeous piece that she had assumed it must have been made with some advanced piece of technology. She realized, with a pang in her heart, how extraordinary these humans must have been. They were entirely alone in the universe, yet they put their loneliness aside and found the passion and drive to create small, delicate pieces of beauty. It was tragic that the actions of an ignorant few led to the death of an entire species eons before the next species had even begun exploring their own world.
As Bo'tang stood looking in on the artifacts, another caught her attention. It was a small pyramid, a tiny replica of the immense monuments which humankind had built to house and honor the dead. Bo'tang thought it was wonderful that humans would literally spend years building these incredible structures for their dead, even though they would never be thanked for it. These monuments weren't just a place for the dead; Bo'tang imagined them as living creatures, reaching for the sky, stretching desperately to find any proof that they weren't the only ones out there.
Bo'tang's mother finally caught up to her. 'Come on, Bo'tang, let's go and try that 'fish and chips' dish your aunt told us about!' she said with a tired smile. Determined, Bo'tang managed to drag her over to the next artifact before they left: a tiny television with the words 'Apollo 11' written across the top. Her mother reluctantly pressed the 'play' button on the display case and a blurry video of a rocket soaring through the sky began to play, with a man in the background exclaiming, 'Liftoff! We have a liftoff!' as the lonely species began its solo journey across the stars. | Cycle 800080, loop 4:32. I don't know what it means. I don't even know how I know it. I'm so confused. Where am I? Who am I? Wait, where's my body? Is this a dream? It must be. I wake up, god knows where, without a body and I'm not freaking out. It must be a dream, yet it feels oddly real. Why can't I remember who I am? Why am I not freaking out? Why am I not freaking out about not freaking out?
*- We know you must have a lot of questions. You can call us Yoda.*
Wait, who said that? Behind me. How did I turn? It's like I didn't move, but I felt a shift and now I'm looking at another part of this weird room. It looks like something out of a video game set in a far, far future. And there's Yoda. Cool, it's not some weird, distorted dream Yoda, it really looks like Yoda. But he doesn't talk like Yoda.
*- We apologize. The exact syntax of this particular character is unfamiliar to us. We have done our best to create a familiar environment conductive to the process of reconstruction.*
Weird. It's like he can hear my thoughts. Never had that dream before.
*- We can, in a manner of speaking. This is not a dream. We do not fully understand how real it is from your perspective, since reality is subjective. For us, this is very real.*
This must be how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. How do you pinch yourself to check if you're dreaming if you don't have anything to pinch? And nothing to pinch with? Wait, what was that trick with the clock? If you want to know if you're dreaming, look at a clock. Something about time passing differently in dreams. What time is it?
\- *From your perspective, it is 13.8 billion years after your death. If Earth still existed, your local time would be 11:32 pm on a Wednesday in August,*
What the hell did I smoke before I went to bed? It's surreal, and real at the same time. Wait, can something really be real and surreal at the same time?
*- We are sorry that the experience is disorienting. This is our first encounter with a human mind. We have already learned so much, and we hope to learn more. But we do not have much time. Even at our technological level, the noetic field stabilizer has limits on how long it can run. We do not know exactly how long we have before you… disspiate.*
Die, you mean? Again? Can you die in a dream? Wait, what if this isn't a dream? What if I am dead? No, you can't think when you're dead. And if I died, what did I die of?
*- We do not know. We learn from your memories. What you cannot remember, we cannot learn. We want you to remember, but our technology is not without flaws. We are happy we recovered as much of your mind as we have.*
Well, this is bleak. Thank you, brain. I'm dead and memoryless in a dream, and I can't even pinch my way out of it. What could this be if it isn't a dream?
*- To put this in concepts you understand: you are a… forensic reenactment of a human mind that from our horizon existed 13.8 billion years ago. You are also the first human mind we encounter. It is quite the honor, as you are the earliest proto-intelligent species we have discovered. We do not have much time, and we want you to remember. We want to learn. You need to find a path to the memories. We believe the beginning of each path is a question. Ask us anything.*
I'm starting to believe this is not a dream. Rationality dictates it must be, but it feels more real by the second.
*- That is most likely the result of us tuning the noetic field stabilizer. We assure you, this is very real. We want to know what the first proto-intelligent species were like. Curiosity is an integral part of intelligence. So please, ask us anything. If we know the answer, and can relay it, we will do so.*
Great. I have a dream where I can ask future aliens anything, and I can't come up with one single question. What would you ask, if you were me?
\--------------------------
​
\[This is an actual invitation to you as a reader to ask a question you'd ask in this situation. I need to go to bed, as it's 2:45 in the morning here, but if I get any questions, I'll continue the story tomorrow.\]
\[EDIT: u/onemansquest added questions, and [I've finished the story based on them](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cpxk2b/wp_turns_out_humanity_was_alone_in_the_universe/ewuo2r1?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x). I hope you guys like it. Thanks for the collaboration, OneMansQuest!\] | 2019-08-13T15:51:09 | 2019-08-13T15:48:34 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] You'll soon arrive at Earth. The latest reports are from just 4 centuries ago and show a backwards planet, so technologically primitive it hurts. Just wait until those peasants gawk at your wondrous technical displays, like the Talking Box and the Image Viewer! They'll think you're a god! | Ikunna stretched her nine arms in unison, impatiently clicking her talons on a segment of her luxurious chair. She was impatient, and her underlings could tell.
"Ikunna, I have the report you asked for," one of her underlings--a beta female by the name of Orphatrix--called. "You may not like--"
*"Give,"* Ikunna commanded. Within seconds, the report was in one of her many arms. She glanced over at her partner, the alpha male Githuuz. Their joint rule would raise the poor bipeds up from their primitive state... and the Empire had granted the pair permission to rule as Deities Arisen on the planet. Ikunna eagerly flipped through the report.
After a few long moments, Githuuz reached out one of his eight arms--he had lost one in the Battle of Zareth's Moon--and tapped her. "Dearest Ikunna," he started, "what does the report say?"
Ikunna chirruped softly. "Not much--mostly just that a variety of satellites orbit the planet, and that they constantly emit various signals. The planet also displays constant light on its shadowed side..." She trailed off, nervous. The planet had only completed four-hundred revolutions around its lonely star since the last survey, and its natives were terribly short-lived.
Githuuz scratched its secondary head's maw. "Perhaps another empire has discovered them," he mused. "If so, our first contact could grant us even greater status than merely Deities Arisen. Best to stay optimistic--after all, there's no way they've developed anything consistent with our gifts." He indicated the view-screen, the radio, and the network nodes on their shipping manifest.
\~\~\~
The xauprii craft touched down in the designated landing zone. Its twin captains and its crew were nervous by now. Humanity, as the fledgling race called itself, had managed the creation of a global network--and view-screens, radios, and more--all independent of outside influence. They had even *communicated* with the xauprii before they thought they were within hailing range of the planet!
Ikunna took charge once the landing was secure. "Honor guard, exit first--weapons ready. Demand their surrender." The tactic had worked before with species that developed faster than expected. It was standard protocol.
Nine lieutenants readied their spears and charged their energy slings. Today, they would become gods.
"We, the envoys of the eminent Xauprii Empire," one of her heralds began as Ikunna and Githuuz leaned closer to the view-screen, trying to take the measure of the small beings, "demand the immediate surrender of your planet to our empire. We are as gods before you, as we shall demonstrate with these gifts."
The herald gestured to the items transmatted from the xauprii ship. It was hard to gauge the expressions of the natives, but Ikunna thought that they seemed... unimpressed.
"Alpha One to command," one of their strange voices filtered through an unsecured radio channel, "I would advise that we not let the unidentified flying object leave the atmosphere. First contact indicates hostile intent. Over."
One of the heralds heard this, as well: he began to fire his energy sling--
\--and dropped dead, his body sprawling haphazardly under the weight of an unidentified weapon. The others panicked, charging their slings or throwing their spears, but they, too, were mowed down by the strange weapons possessed by the natives.
The ship began readying for take off. Githuuz roared a command to cease, likely due to fear of the statement that these natives had said earlier, and the command bridge prepared for battle.
They fought valiantly.
They died the same way.
The humans were more coordinated than any fighting force Ikunna and Githuuz had ever witnessed, as if instead of developing swift faster-than-light transport, they had spend their days finding new and more efficient ways to slay and protect oneself from being slain. The energy slings didn't even dent their helmets or their strange vests, so the xauprii had to resort to ambushes with spears.
They made it to the command room all the same, and by then, the remaining xauprii had surrendered.
As it turned out, faster-than-light travel was remarkably simple--and humanity, the xauprii discovered, were not unintelligent merely because their lives were short.
In fact, they had reverse-engineered the ship's prized Graviton Drive within days of capturing the vessel.
The Empire was about to learn a very, very harsh lesson. | Herbert popped the ship out of warp at the minimum safe distance, one warp-hour, below the planet's orbital plane. After the loss of the S1-2 and the subsequent destabilization of the Era star system, the Economic Bureau started mandating that ships warp below or above a star system and enter perpendicular to the orbital plane to minimize the chances of a potential collision during warp.
After double checking that engines were spooling down properly, Herbert grabbed the Portable Colony and Exploitation document and headed to his bunk. He fell asleep after crafting a simple contract around the last data packet the Bureau had received. It shouldn't be too hard, species at this level tended to sign anything as long as they were sufficiently dazzled by technology.
Upon waking Herbert had the ship jump to warp, setting the end point to just above the planets southern pole. After a quick breakfast Herbert sat down to in the command chair and glanced at the incoming data buffer, fully expecting that it would be empty.
MEMORY FULL:
Herbert stiffened in shock, there was no way that the buffer should be full. He quickly skimmed the entries to figure out what happened. Much of it was noise, weak and untranslatable by the computer, but there were other signals with consistent patterns. This was not good, He'd have to re-write the contract and submit new reports to the Bureau. But even if they had talk boxes, any sensible species would know to limit the amount of signals emitted into space from their world. Perhaps all was not lost and this species was naive enough to sign a favorable contract.
Popping out of warp a short time later, with a hastily re-written contract, Herbert brought the ship into a halo orbit and checked the gravity radar.
Filthy. That was the only way he could describe it. the planet was absolutely cluttered with satellites of all manner as well as debris. This species had not only advanced at a break beak pace, but they also showed no regard for keeping their space or EM spectrum clean. While this disgusted Herbert, it did not change his mission. He maneuvered and deorbited to land at a population center on eastern coast of the less populated landmass.
Radiation warnings screamed from every side of the ship, though none of the beams were anywhere near strong enough to penetrate the hull. It seemed this species had much to learn about radiation weapons too. A new alarm blared, multiple launches were detected along the coastline, hundreds of tiny ships flew up to meet him. Herbert was confused but switched on the debris deflection field just in case, this species didn't behave at all like any of the others in the records, and it worried him.
Herbert's fears were borne out when the tiny craft detonated as they were deflected around his ship. More alarms shrieked as several meters of surface sensors were destroyed. the deflector fields were primarily meant to protect from non-exploding debris and were overwhelmed by the tiny craft, ... weapons. Herbert finally processed the gravity of the situation, this species used disposable weapons of all things!
Aborting the landing procedure, Herbert flew several kilometers above the ocean on his original heading as the engines recharged to re-orbit and immediately warp out. As he wondered if he'd have to dodge more of the tiny-ship weapons the optical sensors picked up six ships approaching from below and behind. They were ugly angular things with inefficient oxygen-combustion engines, but they were fast. too fast. Herbert moved the ship from side to side to try and free himself from the radiation spotlights the burning ships were emitting. The computer brought forward a signal warning, there was a simple repeated message being transmitted on several different frequencies and the computer had just finished translating it.
"This is Captain Franklin of the United States Navy. You are flying in a hostile manner and have violated restricted US airspace. If you do not reduce speed and alter heading you will be destroyed. You are about to enter another restricted airspace, this is your final warning."
​
Herbert ignored the audio warning, the Bureau didn't allow those of his rank to interact with species of this level of tech. He accelerated further as the engines charged, if he altered course here, he'd have to maneuver again in orbit to warp out and he wanted to get away as soon as possible. after a minute of inaction on his part, over a dozen tiny-ship weapons launched from the burning ships towards him. This time though, they exploded farther away, sending small debris at his ship, which the deflectors handled with ease. As he started to pull away, the burning ships shed several objects from their underbellies, their engines releasing huge gouts of flame. Impossibly they leaped forward to exceed the speed of Herbert's ship. As they approached small bursts of flame sprouted from their noses, Herbert though that the burning ships were failing, until the deflectors registered thousands of even tinier pieces of debris being shunted away from the hull. It was utter madness, this species even threw debris at their enemies. Herbert's pinions shivered a little in revulsion at the concept, it was just so dirty.
As Herbert's ship gradually picked up speed and altitude, the burning ships fell further behind. Four of them reduced their engines and broke away. The remaining two followed a while longer until one and then the other lost their engine fires completely and started to fall down towards the ocean.
More tiny-ship weapons and burning ships tried to intercept him as he flew over the coast, but he was far too fast and high to be caught by now. Atmospheric heating warnings appeared and were promptly dismissed, Herbert was done with this planet, and was not going to follow Bureau niceties if it meant being near it a second longer than necessary. He was already going to lose an egg to pay for the damages, though perhaps the next planet would be fruitful enough to pay for it.
Exiting the atmosphere Herbert entered warp immediately, relishing the blessed silence for several minutes before starting on his reports. If today was anything to go by, it was probably going to be a long work cycle.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is my first WP post, hope you guys like it. Sorry if it's a bit long. | 2019-09-19T10:38:16 | 2019-09-19T10:36:26 | 265 | 42 |
[WP] Fallen angel is a pretty popular trope in fiction. But I want to hear about Ascended Demons. Demons that were too good/ kind/ pious for the underworld and managed to break out. | I never understood the war. We were immortal. What the point of fighting? You can't kill something that is immortal. You aren't going to convince someone of your opinion with a flaming sword. I don't even know what my opinion was anyway. Duty? I think it was duty. Or maybe just momentum. I was in a rut. Running on autopilot. I didn't have passion for what I did. Then I met my first fallen angel. One whose righteousness outweighed his kindness and mercy until he embraced wrath and pride and fell.
That told me that we weren't stuck. Maybe I don't have to be a demon like the doesn't have to be an angel. Still, it is hard to be so slothful and indifferent it somehow twists into a virtue. So jealous that it becomes pious. So proud you come around to humility. Sins tend to feed into each other better than virtues. The idea sat in the back of my mind for centuries before I found the opportunity. The ultimate pride move that became a charity.
Demons are, by our jealous and prideful nature, very competitive. When the most hated man in history dies by his own hand well, we try to outdo each other. He becomes a focal point of hatred from the worlds of man and god and we go to work. Torments humans couldn't comprehend were thought up, used, and improved upon until the soul was nothing but a dried up husk.
Then it was my turn. So I brought him hope. I brought him the one soul who would not judge him. The one soul who loved him unconditionally, even now. The one who showed a little speck of light for him to cling to.
The other demons conceded I won, not that I cared. They were free to torment him for eternity as every time they broke him he could now be brought back. They never understood that I didn't do it for them, or even for him. I couldn't care less about the most hated soul in hell.
I cared about the soul who missed him. The soul who was trapped in limbo in heaven but I was able to help. Because every time the demons were through with him he was returned to her. And every time Blondi greeted him with a dopey smile and wagging tail. By his side was the only place she was truly happy. Heaven is where your heart is.
And all dogs go to heaven. | And there it was, hanging just above my head, through the smallest of cracks in the rock, sunlight.
I let myself bask in it for a second. Breathing it in and allowing it to wash over me as if I was floating in clear water. That thin cut of light that aligns with the perfect cut of rock so I might see it shine. Only once every year am I allowed a minute. Once a year I get this moment, and now this moment is gone.
I am tired of this torturous place. The flame and fire burns endlessly onward with sparking pops that illuminate a cavern bleak and empty. A moss covered pit stained red with the torment of mortals. A bleak place, a hellish place, a deserving place for Demon's like me...
What have I to do? Have I not suffered enough? My mistakes were my own and I have paid for them dearly. For centuries I have been confined to the squabbling of goblins and the vicious barks of trolls, pierced by the cries of evil men who suffer eternally along with me. Aye, witness of Hell, my fallen morality has surely been repaired!
Lucifer would not have us leave, he is in too dire a need of ground troops. Henchmen that could build his army while he, the first of all fallen angels, still could venture the land above. He knew too much about the angels culture, and even God itself could not banish him with it. A fallen angel might still climb to solid ground. The rest of, might only dream of it.
That thin cut of light was gone. The screams were too much. They rang a cacophony in my pointed ears. I clasped them tightly with bristled hands and my cloven hooves stomped passionately on the rock below. Stop. Stop. Stop! I yelled with every pound my heart. When will it end! This eternal war! I will not be part of it any longer! And so my mind was certain and I left that dark cavern prisoner to a fury like I had never experienced before. Strangely calm in my ambition, I broke in strides toward the chambers of torture.
A heavy stone door was chiselled before me, its ringed iron handle tightly in my grasp. I swung it open and let it fall behind me. Inside, three mortals were strapped to the wall, white eyed and dazed with internal terror. No, reader, if you were expecting to find physical torture then you are mistaken. Demons have practised evil and had learned better long ago. There is no need to point and stab and break, because the worst torture you can inflict on a soul is the distortion of their conscious mind. The human imagination is indeed a powerful thing. These three mortals would surely agree with me. They screamed into an empty cave, and I stood and watched.
That was before my existence changed forever.
I broke the spell and gave these tormented souls some respite. The cloud of mist that hung behind their eyes faded and the colour returned to faces gasping and thankful. To my knowledge, no Demon had ever dared to defy Lucifer. There was no doubt that he was already on his way. Thundering, booming, *doom, doom, doom.* The footsteps of the fallen angel getting louder with every second. I was finished, broken, without option, and I yet I had no remorse at all. I was happy.
In my head, a voice beckoned.
*You may come with us, Demon. We do not need to say who we are, for you already know. You may join us amongst the clouds in exchange for one request. We want you to tell us everything you know about your leader.*
I accepted without hesitation.
​
r/WatsonWantsToWrite | 2019-11-08T10:51:37 | 2019-11-08T10:25:07 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] Your dad tries to toughen you up by dumping you in the middle of the forest with just a pocket knife and a compass. After wandering around utterly lost you come across a stranger claiming to be your dad's first child. | I could barely see the compass by the light of the moon.
"Walk east," Dad had said. But in the darkness, west became north and north became south and even up and down looked the same.
A knife and a compass.
"All a boy needs to survive out here."
If Dad said so, then it was so.
A stick cracked and a shadow shifted, a translucent figure emerged from the trees. "You, too, eh?"
"Me too, what?"
"He left you out here. Just like me."
"Who?"
"Dad. I'm his son, too."
The boy looked about my age, wore the same rags and carried the same knife. He couldn't be Dad's son. I was an only child, but this boy could have been my twin. I wished for a mirror, a camera, anything to convince myself that he and I were identical as I feared.
"I don't have a brother," I said.
"Me neither. But I'll walk with you. He told you east?"
I nodded.
"I think that's what he told me. I forget. Then I got lost."
"How long have you been out here?"
"Me?" he asked without answering.
"Of course, you. Who else?"
He shrugged. "There's others."
"Other what?"
"Sons. Every night, he drops off another."
I frowned, shook away the thoughts this boy fed me. "Let's walk. East."
"East," he said, and he walked beside me in the darkness. "Are you sure? It could have been west."
"No. He said east," I insisted.
I tripped over tree roots. He walked right over them. I ducked to avoid a low-hanging branch. He walked right through it. I pretended not to notice, pretended that those images weren't nagging at me. His skin was more visible than my own feet, shining in the moonlight in spite of the treess.
"You sure he said east?" the boy asked.
"Positive," I lied. Had it been east? Or had he said not to go east? Had he said west?
We walked. Sometimes we talked, but there wasn't a whole lot to talk about with myself. He knew everything about me. My favorite foods and favorite games. Dad's habits and how the house looked.
"I'm sorry you're stuck in this mess," he said.
"What mess? It's a test. I have to find my way home."
"Home isn't east. It never was. At least, that's what I've come to think."
"So should we head back?"
"We should. It's nearly morning. By the time we get back, it'll be nightfall and he'll drop off another."
I shook my head. "That's ridiculous. I have no brothers. I told you that. It's just me."
The boy nodded sadly, holding out his arms. "Then you go east, like the others. I'll go west."
"Fine," I said, pouting. "I'm going east."
His arms still waited for a hug. "Come on," he said. "A goodbye hug."
I stepped into his arms and he walked right through me, smiling sadly as he emerged on the other side.
"Keep going east," he said. "I'll see if I can convince the next you to go west."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | “It’s Star, by the way,” she rasped. The girl’s hair was short, cut inexpertly by her eight year-old pocketknife. Underneath her furs, she still wore the clothes she was abandoned in, but they were faded and torn with age. She smelled unwashed, which was gross, and faintly like pine.
“Orion,” he replied bemusedly.
Star cleared her throat. “I know. Dad was going for a theme.”
“If he was really your dad, then how come I’ve never heard of you? I would’ve been 5 when you disappeared. I could’ve remembered.” Orion crossed his arms defiantly at his supposed sister.
“He probably played me off as an imaginary friend. Or as some other relative that lived with us.” As Star went on, she grew more confident, the rasp fading. “I know his name was Joshua. I remember when you splashed ink on the wall and Mom refused to paint over it. Why would I know all of that if we weren’t siblings?”
Seeds of doubt took hold in his mind. He thought of the unoccupied bedroom down the hall, used now as a guest room. But Orion still didn’t trust her, and told her as much.
Star laughed for the first time in months. It sounded more like panting. “Well, I’ve got food and shelter, so you’ll have to come with me. Unless you want to try to make it on your own.”
As they walked, Orion bombarded Star with questions. She answered them slowly and carefully, like she wanted to savor every crumb of conversation. Orion thought it came off as a little desperate.
“Why did you never escape?”
“I’ve tried. The forest is huge, and it is surrounded by a massive stretch of empty land. I would starve if I tried to leave. I’ve tried once, with a huge stock of dried meat and water, but the ground shifts subtly beneath you, turns you around. I gave up and decided to go home and it’s like the land sensed it, gave me a clear path to my shelter.”
“Do you ever take baths?”
“Yeah. There’s a lake a mile from my shelter and the amoebas haven’t gotten me yet. Otherwise, I can go to a spring, but it’s about ten miles away so it’s not really worth the effort.”
“How old are you?”
“20. Or 21. I know what year it is, I’ve kept track, but the months are a little weirder. My birthday’s in the summer, so when summer’s over I’ll consider myself a year older. I was thirteen when Dad put me here. That’s probably your age, right?”
“How did you deal with being by yourself?”
“Spite keeps me sane. And I practice drawing on, like, leaves. I talk to myself, I sing, I exercise. I hunt a lot, too. And I have a pet, a dog. I found him in the forest a few years ago and he was so hungry he almost ripped my arm off, but I slapped him away and gave him some food. Now he’s well-fed and we’re buddies, I guess. Helps me hunt. No idea where he came from. And now I have you.”
“Okay, let’s stop talking. We’re here.”
Orion’s jaw hung open. By shelter, he was expecting maybe a crude lean-to, with a fire-pit. Instead, he saw a log cabin, wood sealed together with dried mud. There was a small garden in the front, and several skins hanging off of a tanning rack to dry. A black labrador in the yard abandoned his moose bone to growl at Orion, hackles raised.
“It’s okay, bud. He’s not gonna hurt you,” cooed Star. The dog stopped growling, but he still eyed Orion suspiciously as he padded up to the two. Star scratched at his matted ears.
“You can probably pet him,” she assured. “Just, if he starts growling again, back away.”
The boy extended his hand to the dog’s nose. He sniffed at it curiously, then licked it. Taking that as a good sign, Orion cautiously laid his hand on the dog’s head.
Star beamed, a little too eager. “Yeah, he likes you!”
“Well, he hasn’t bitten my hand off yet.” Orion kept petting him.
Star nodded. “Yeah. That’s why I said he likes you.”
They ate a good meal that night, deer seasoned with wild oregano. Star lent Orion some furs to sleep on, and promised that she would get him a proper stuffed mattress like she had.
In the night, Orion escaped the stranger. Dad had warned him of a girl he might find, a liar who would manipulate him against his own father. He congratulated himself on his cunning as he left, clutching sacks of meat and furs.
__
Critique very welcome! | 2020-05-01T04:50:03 | 2020-05-01T04:45:12 | 1,205 | 623 |
[WP] A dragon shows up at the adventurers' guild after hearing that humans will just GIVE away gold for something called a "quest." | *ding a ling*
The bells chime as the door opened at the Adventurer's Guild and the young man working the desk did not look up from the ledger. Indeed, he did not look up as the wooden floorboards screamed in protest under the weight of the man who entered. Had he bothered to glance at this particular patron he might have been concerned that one man in red scale armor weighed enough that he seemed in real danger of causing structural harm. Alas, he was absorbed in his work and managed only a cursory, "Can I help you?"
"Yesss." Rumbled a deep, cavernous voice from within the horned helmet. "I am here to complete a ... quest, in order to amass gold. Is this the appropriate establishment?" His tone suggested that perhaps he was unused to speaking to people he found to be beneath him, and further suggested that this category included most sentient life.
"Yessir," droned the clerk, "You're in the right spot. What kind of work are you looking for? Rescue missions, escort missions, item retrieval, or Heroics?"
The armored figure hesitated before replying, "I am looking for something, hmm, violent. It suits my natural talents." This last seem to come with an unwitnessed and decidedly unnerving smile.
Still tending to the ledgers, the clerk commented dryly, "That would be Heroics, then. Blue wall on your right, each available contract includes proof required and bounty to be paid. You're welcome to mark the board to indicate you have selected this quest but we ask that you do not remove the posting until such time as you can offer proof of completion, so as not to result in abandoned quests in the event of your demise or distraction. Thank you and have a blessed day." Though he was clearly still in his youth, the speech carried with it the weight of endless eons of repetition and monotony.
Armor clanged over to the wall, floors splintering in protest, and a deep rumbling sound filled the small room. "HA!" The thunder of sudden laughter cracked a window as the armored man made his mark on one of the papers. "That much, just for orcs? Incredible." He turned to address the young man. "Whelp, this parchment indicates a sum of eight thousand gold marks for the head of the orc chief on the western plains, is this accurate?"
"That's what the paper says, sir."
"Very well, I shall return this evening to collect my due. See that it is ready." His departure pulled the door off one hinge and cracked the wooden frame supporting it. Annoyed, the young man had only just wet his pen to make a not for door repair when a blast of air pressure shattered every window in the shop. Rushing outside, he had just enough time to watch the massive form of the red dragon, flying west.
"Huh," he mused to himself, "Good thing I didn't tell him to check the yellow wall, I'm pretty sure he's listed for 6,000 gold and I do NOT want to be here when he learns his head is worth less than the orc's." | Us dragons don't make much money these a days. Ever since the famed battle of Urug-tral where dragons were defeated at the hands of wealthy tree-slayers, we've been unable to get our wings off the ground. Not in the same way, anyway. We get by. And it's not like we did not avenge our fallen. Indeed as history shows, the battle of tral-bak that followed, us dragons were victorious and our banners flew over the battlefield just as resplendent as ever.
Of course, years of internecine warfare and not to mention conflict with other spirits and dwellers has rendered us subject to the baloon economy of the land. To the best of my knowledge, it's the same everywhere. Young dragons, or otherwise, humans or orcs or even those misfit tree-slayers have a hard time supporting their brood. If the old beards are to be believed, this particular 300 year curse can only be lifted by the forest spirites working together. As far as that goes, we have a better chance of having rain in October.
So when I heard that humans were willing to give away gold for a quest at the near town, I donned my long cape and tom hat and came along. Times are tough, and dragons cannot be choosers. Only after hearing the quest did it make more sense. Indeed humans do not submit to the will of us nether world creatures for nothing. The gold would be delivered on the completion of the whole quest. The quest itself is in three parts. Not only do we have to infiltrate the shogun and disable their top samurai but we have to recover a precious jade artefact. The jade artefact has to be placed high in the Led mountains, inside a hidden temple to protect it from prying eyes. The artefact is worth far more than the quest put together, however it carries great magic inside it and must only be moved in the cover of night.
When we started for our cross-realm journey it did not feel it would be quite as terrifying as what was lying ahead. When we reached the gates of the shogun, stumbling across the town bazaar with teeming supplies and villagers, we shapeshifted and used magic to disguise ourselves as members of the Kirakawa clan, here to settle a monetary dispute.
Inside the shogun compound it was to be more difficult. Once we were acquainted with the priest. We presented our papers, which seemed paler now that we were in the presence of such a powerful sorcerer. Indeed if it weren't for our youthful exhuberance and charm, he might have seen right through us. Us dragons can pry into realms of magic however, and he seemed oblivious. Though I felt him gazing back in the dark of my mind.
We spent a few days at the temple. Completing paperwork. All the well. Drinking and partying late with the samurais was what kept us going through the ritual observances we had to follow during the day time. The samurais on their part were boisterous but without a keen sense of discernment. They seemed to be under a spell of the priest. Sleeping, watchful, terrifying warriors. We knew we could not fight all of them. This had to be done at night. We had to sneak out the next night.
As soon as the lamps were lit, we were out of our hammocks. Crossing the compound to the shogun's samurai's den. It wasn't difficult to coax him into a fight. We'd been drinking for a few days, and samurais are famed the world over for their willingness to fight. Even when the odds are against them.
Eventually we managed to restrain the old shogun and feed him a vial of poison. The poison wouldn't outright kill him but it would keep him out of it for at least a few hours giving us ample time to find the artefact.
Crossing the temple again and entering the chambers at night felt like cursing the moonlight. But we find the artefact, and take it with us.
Crossing back into the forest and back to our realm was both a relief and a terror. Terror at having restrained a samurai and having taken from a temple.
Eventually reaching the inn we were paid our due. The artefact was to be shifted the very next day. We're off. Our part was done. Now it was upto the humans at the inn to make the perilous journey up to their secret mountain and submit the artefact to the temple for safekeeping.
Gold for a powerful jade artefact. And a dead samurai. | 2020-06-08T16:15:44 | 2020-06-08T13:46:59 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] You were an aspiring supervillain and you turned to creating a fake crowdfunding campaign to raise money for your first lair and gadgets. After the funds started pouring in it dawned on you that you’d probably find more success actually releasing the product. | **Target goal** =$10
That was it, give me ten bucks and I'll do the thing.
I heard this crowd sourcing thing was in with the kids but honestly, I didn't think anyone was dumb enough to just hand strangers online money. much less money so said stranger can achieve *their* goal!
Where was the logic in that? My Old friend Co-on Artist said it was a fool and his gold kind of thing but even so... I figured I'd dip my toe in the pool and test the waters.
People get nothing out of it, no "stretching goals" thingie, nothing. It's just give me ten buck and I'll buy potatoes for the first time to try what a mash tastes like.
I mean, I'm over 70 so I don't know who'd believe I've never had potatoes ever but lets see how dumb this internet thing has made this generation.
**Three days and $55,000 later**
Ah.... ok... So I guess I'm uploading a video of myself eating mashed potatoes... Thanks internet??? | "Mwhahhaha hahaha huha!"
My laughs echoed throughout my tiny studio apartment. "I have finally found the prefect plan to raise funds to buy the SUPER CAVE OF EVILNESS, and I will finally be able to destroy the so called hero OverPowered-Man, I will also be able to finally quit my job at the HeroVil-minimart" I exclaimed to myself, proud of my new plan.
After a late night of research, which was about three long minutes of googling, I had found the prefect site. Start kicking, a crowdfunding website.
My perfect evil plan was perfected. I was going to trick the citizens of HeroVil City to fund my OverPowered-Man action figures, but they were never going to see the products.
"Mwhahahahaha!"
It was the perfect plan, I would fund the destruction of OverPowered-Man by using those who support him.
After setting up the funding, and using my wicked MS Paint skills to make a very convincing design, i posted my funding request and awaited for my victims to fall into my trap!
The next morning I found not only had I surpassed my goal for $100,000,000 for the CAVE OF EVILNESS, but I had reached $328,830,710. The OverPowered-Man fans were falling for my trickier and were losing every penny for it, I was going to get all of their money, without having to even put on my super pants!
After reaching over $500,000,000 an hour after I had originally checked, a sudden idea had come over me, a even greater evil plan. "What if I sell OverPowered-Man merch" I had earned more money in one day then I had ever working for
Dr. ReallyBadGuy as a stupid henchman.
I would be rich! Why would I care about defeating OverPowered-Man when I could just buy HeroVil and he would have to answer to me! I would be his superior! This was the best idea I had ever had, I could own OverPowered-Man, I would finally get one over on him. Finally get my revenge for him cutting in line at Villan Burger, because he "had to save the people in the burning building" he couldn't wait his turn and I wasn't having his excuses!
This was my chance to get back at him. This was my chance to win. I would sell his merch, I would be rich, I would be able to do anything! | 2020-08-24T04:05:18 | 2020-08-23T23:00:30 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] You are considered the wisest man in the world, people all over come to seek your advice. The secret? You actually aren't that smart. You just tell the person about random things in your life, and they twist it into some kind of metaphor for whatever problem they're dealing with on their own. | The young man came bounding up the walk, as I sat on my ‘meditation’ rocking chair a cold beer in hand. The look on his face told me he was one of ‘those’ people. But hey, better than a salesman of some sort or someone asking me to find god or something.
He gets to my steps and stares at me, looking for his words. My mind starts to wander, I never like to speak first. My eyes rest on my empty chip bag.
“I’m really in love with this girl!” He proclaims. “We’ve been dating two years, but I’m just not sure she’s the one.”
I barely hear him as I remember the other bag of chips inside. I always make sure I’m stocked.
“There’s always another bag of chips!” I say excitedly finally locking eyes with the young man. Inside I am horrified, barely starting to register what he had said and my stupid comment.
“Of course!” He responds, a look of understanding crossing his face. He throws a fresh $100 bill into my donation box and saunters away happily.
“Holy fuck,” I say, taking a swig of beer. “That poor girl. Eh, it pays the bills I ‘spose.” I shake my head as I wander inside to grab a fresh beer... and some chips. | “I’ve come to the conclusion that I am to die at the end of the year.” Said the peasant oaf in front of me.
I have been at this line of work so long that my ego has now worn in my old age and I have grown quite jaded.
He inched forward on his knees. “If the crops continue to yield undesirables then I have decided I shall take my life. I would rather breathe the same air as Hades than to be taken to prison for unpaid debt. If I could avoid both I would, so now I come to you.”
He seems sincere.
He begins to stand. Hands clasped over each other. “PLEASE” he begs.
They always are. Poems of Charon and their ever growing fear of what is to come.
Tears begin to flow from the poor man’s face. “Please what have I done to deserve THIS! This life how can it be so blessed and yet so much misfortune befalls upon me? Do colors not bloom in arcs after rainfall? Does the sky not lighten after the dark of night?”
Ah jeez. If he at least had a shirt he could at least soak up his tears.
He gets down on all four and crawls to the altar. “If this is what is required I will give you all that I can give. My life and all. I will give...”
He kept going. I’m not interested though. They always come to my idol, but they don’t actually know who I am. Millions of prayers to me, only a dozen actually addressed to “Cerese” They wont ever learn that I am not “Ceres”. Cerese - Capitalist god of Debt collecting and debauchery.
The Oaf now completely on his face and stomach, yelling into the ground. “OOfhh g—d that h-s the POWER of ALL OT—R GODS BEFORE...”
I do nothing to these people. No miracles, no schemes. Just pity. I offer but one thing.
. Cerese then tilts his idol and totem over and they shatter on the floor .
The oaf raises his head. “My god is this you? Are you speaking to me?”
Yeah why not. Who am I to say that the conclusions you come to are incorrect.
With stars in his eyes the Oaf exclaims “You want me to not suffer or wallow? IKNOW. I SHALL SHARE THE NEWS OF MY CROPS AND TELL EVERYONE THAT IF THEY INVEST TOO THEN THEY CAN MAKE A PORTION OF WHAT I MAKE AND AT THE SAME TIME MAKES BETS THAT MY CROPS WILL UNDER PERFORM THIS YEAR! ITSAWINWINANDIWONTLOSE!”
I might not be a very important god like Ceres, but one day I’ll be just as big. | 2020-10-01T13:41:27 | 2020-10-01T11:23:06 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You are happily alone in your boat in the middle of the Pacific with no other soul within a 500 mile radius. One morning you wake up and there is another person standing on the deck of your boat, smiling at you. You look around and there are no other boats in sight. | I stared as the boat creaked and swayed with the swells. Salt water stung me eyes but I could not help meself but stare for there she were. The most beautiful lass I'd ever set me eye on, and I'd seen many beauties in me life! As a young man I hadn't questioned it but now... well now I wonder lads, how had she managed to find herself on me boat? I was alone on the ocean in the middle of a storm, hundred of miles from land. Yet there she was.
"Who are ye!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, for it was hard to hear over the storm.
The lass smiled at me as lightning flashed overhead.
"Who are ye to sail alone in a storm?"
Now you see lads I had no right answer. I knew there was a storm coming when I'd left town. Hell I knew no sailor in there right mind would've come out there but I knew I had to. It was me fate.
"Me names James. What's yours lass?"
The smile appeared again.
"Calypso" | I woke up as usual to the sun rising to a morning mist and the breeze blowing. I had taken my boat out at least a week ago. Finally alone on the open ocean. Food was probably running low. And I maybe could have drank less beer. But when you're by yourself you kinda just don't care.
As I step out onto the deck I'm met with a surprise. A man. On my boat. No land for miles. How the hell did he get here? Am I going crazy? I stood there wondering how he got on.my boat for what seemed like ages. Not aware he was looking at me directly.
"Hello there." he said in a rather sweet accent as though he were someone familiar. I looked at this man clad in white and sandals. Why was he so familiar to me? Who is he? After what's seemed like ages of me peering at him and squinting like I knew him he smiled. An almost warm and beautiful smile. Like a sunrise at dawn over a field of roses dappled in dew. Then he spoke again. "It's a lot harder to find you than I thought Patrick." Patrick? How did he know my name? "I thought about coming to see you at your office. But your boss isn't exactly the nicest person is he?" I stammered "n-no. Not really. He's kind of an-" "now now patrick." He said. "Let's not speak ill of those who cannot defend themselves."
I looked at him again. His long brown hair, bushy beard, and the white robe. I could swear I knew who he was. "I'm sorry but I swear I know you. Have we met before?" He smiled again saying "so you know me as I have known you, Patrick."
As he said this he walked over to me. Almost slowly like a dream. And he hugged me. A hug like a warm blanket on a cold night. Or a loving embrace from your mother. Pure joy. He whispered to me "Patrick. It's time to go home." and I felt the urge. To go back to land. To go back to work. To go see my friends and family.
And with that he turned. Walking to the back of the boat. And as he reached the edge he turned. Saying softly "go in peace Patrick. For you are loved." And he stepped off the edge and walked away. Disappearing into the morning mist. And I grabbed the wheel. Time to go home. | 2021-02-02T10:05:01 | 2021-02-02T09:07:24 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist. | There’s nothing I can do.
He is stronger than me. Faster than me. And while my ability to influence people with music is strong, there are limits to what I can do.
He turns to face my city. Mine. Neighbors, friends, hell, even my enemies lives have meaning. He’s going to destroy it all, and I have only one option left; one that will take us both out of the equation forever.
With trembling hands, I reach towards the player knob, and select the “do not select” setting.
He turns, contemptuous, but as the music begins to play, his smile melts into a dawning realization.
“This is the song that never ends..”
Eternity awaits. | I'm gasping for breath, knees, palms and iPod shuffle on the floor. Somehow, I find the energy to look up.
There stands Suc Kon, a delinquent who dropped out of Spawt Eefy, school for the auditarily attenuated. He now wants to eat all the music in the world.
Me - I didn't realize you'd gotten this powerful...
Suc - How does it feel? Cant look down on Suc from your lofty peak anymore eh? Well, today you can SUC MY -
Me - I swore that I'd never use it again... but it looks like I have no choice!!!
I reach out for the iPod and press the "Next" button four times.
Suc - When are you going to learn that music is USELESS against me?
He opens his mouth wide and inhales. The sound starts getting fainter and fainter, until it fades completely. From deep in his stomach, you can hear echoes the song.
Then, he gags. He dry retches once, then twice. Suddenly, he pukes out... a well-seasoned piece of spicy chicken.
Me - This is the most dangerous artist in the world. Only two people have access to their songs - the President of India, and the President of the student council. I'm sure you've heard it's name whispered in hushed tones, deep in dark alleyways... The band "Eiffel 65".
Suc's eyes go wide.
Me - Anyone who hears it is cursed to forever spew out food garnished with 65 spices. Chicken 65, Mutton 65, Paneer 65... It was how world hunger was eradicated. One man stepped up to bear the burden. Unfortunately, it also lead to a heart cholesterol epidemic, which led to that man becoming the most hated human in existence. And Suc, you don't know this but... that man, Mai Dik, was your father.
Suc falls to his knees, assuming my old posture.
Suc - How is this poss-
He spits out a piece of cottage cheese.
Me - Someday, maybe you'll be able to break the curse. For now, though... I am the victor. | 2022-05-17T10:44:20 | 2022-05-17T10:01:07 | 43 | 15 |
[WP] When new planets are introduced to the galactic community, there is typically a rush from the elite to procure expensive and rare pets, which are promptly discarded after a few months. This is normally no problem, until Earth was discovered and the universe learned about invasive species. | **Mudan**
\- Sir, they're still in the fields. They already destroyed over half the crops.
\- I don't get it! I was told they would go back to the sea after their mating period!
\- We believe they were attracted by the richness of the fields, sir. They're eating everything.
\- Stop them!
\- Attempts have been made to scare the birds away, sir, but they appear to be highly agressive. And they run fast.
\- Scare them? Are you kidding me? If we lose any more food, it's going to be a worldwide disaster! Shoot them! Kill them!
\- We... we tried, sir.
\- What do you mean, "tried"?
\- ... they're surprisingly good at evading soldiers.
​
**Pupp'a**
\- Report! What in the gracknok is happening?
\- Sir, the lifeform you brought, it... it did something.
\- Did what?
\- I'm not sure, sir. We believe that's how it reproduces. It released a sort of mist... And every single person who got touched by it started acting strangely after a few days. Eating a lot, and trying to reach high places. And then they just... Stood.
\- I don't understand. How is it doing that?
\- We don't know, but, sir... The people infected...
\- What?
\- They've started releasing the mist, too.
​
**Nidum**
\- Shhh! Hide! Quick!
The assistant took his boss into the safe room. Four of the creatures passed in the hallway, their countless legs making the walls tremble.
\- I... I don't understand. What happened? Whispered the formerly wealthy merchant.
\- We didn't monitor them, so we're not sure *exactly* what happened, but it appears than in the \[six months\] since you brought that queen... Sir, there are thousands of them.
\- Thousands?? How is this even possible?
They got quiet again, as a line of the black things were passing them. They seemed to be using they own bodies to build some kind of bridge to link this building with the other one.
\- I never expected... I never knew... Oh, gods, I ruined everything! And this skin that nothing can break... Can we even defeat them? \[Georges\]?
He looked at his assistant, who seemed to have stopped listening. He was looking at the device in his hand, his face distorded into an expression of horror.
\- Sir... According to this report, the queen...
\- What?
\- She made more queens.
​
**Eburovices**
\- Back! Get back, you monsters!
The \[man\] fired his weapon at his former employees, but could only wound a few. That didn't seem to do much, as they kept limping in his direction. He ran to his office, and locked the door - just in time. The closest one of *them* had leaped, maw opened, trying to bite him.
As he collapsed against the door, panting, he jumped at a sudden noise: his assistant rose from behind his desk. She was not looking happy.
\- This is all *your fault*!
She produced a gun from somewhere he couldn't see.
\- We told you not to bring that organism.
\- \[Lydia\], please, I couldn't have known...
\- We *told you* it was dangerous! We told you it was stupid to bring something without knowing how it would affect us!
\- \[Lydia\], I beg you, calm down! This isn't like you!
\- Oh yeah?
White bubbles had started forming around her lips.
\- You've only got yourself to blame.
​
**Œropaa**
\- Give me good news, lieutenant.
\- ... I don't have those, sir.
The commander sighed.
\- Give me the bad news.
\- Well, first of all, we found nests.
\- Nests?
\- Individuals appear to have escaped containment and fled, sir. They went into hiding and reproduced.
\- Well? Can't you round them up and kill them? I assume they're all reunited close to whatever their prefered environment is.
\- ...
\- What? Where are they?
\- Everywhere, sir. They appear to be able to thrive in pretty much any environment.
\- Oh gods. How many of them are there?
\- Several billions, sir.
\- HOW MUCH? How... How is that even possible? They were just a couple thousands! That was merely a few \[thousand years\] ago!
\- Their metabolism is significantly faster than ours, sir. They now outnumber us by about five to one. And... That's not all.
\- What's next?
\- They are far smarter than we imagined, sir. They've been using everything they could find to create makeshift tools and weapons. They built, sir. They built a lot. And it appears that some of the materials commonly found here are quite invaluable to their technology.
\- Give me the bottom line, lieutenant.
\- They took down four cities, sir. We believe we may be facing extinction. | Hello everyone, thank you for attending, whether physically or via G-net. I hope everyone is having a satisfactory revolution about their respective planet's axes.
During this session we will be discussing Intergalactic Resolution E89350229b, "Removal of Earthling Hominids from Protections for Purposes of Domestication". We will be particularly interested in arguments from the galactic community. All entities with an intelligence gradient of 4.8 and above are encouraged to participate.
To summarize the resolution for the record: it has been determined by an independent body of researchers from a statistically relevant cross-section of galactic origins and disciplines that Earthing Hominids (heretofore known colloquially as "Humans") are intellectually limited insofar as to prevent them from being properly domesticated, and therefore must be regarded as "wild", "untamed", and thus unfit for integration into the daily lifestyle of members of the galactic alliance. To this end we have invited entities to discuss the humans' impact on their homeworlds. Our first scheduled participant is Trellix 2V, of star system MW-270-B-8.
*Thank you Impartial-878, I came here to serve as a cautionary tale for any other world entertaining the notion of continuing this trend of "people pets" as I've heard it called. Simply put, humans will infest any unoccupied space, destroy anything they touch, and will predate and out-breed any other nearby populations. Their ability and desire to displace indigenous populations is astonishing and staggeringly destructive. Their biodiversity is also incredibly varied despite their narrow band of environmental survivability, and they have even been discovered attempting to breed with certain indigenous species, with predictably disastrous results.*
*One particular community in our cluster found an enormous human colony right under their feet when refrigeration units for food began to lose efficiency all over the community. Finally it was discovered that humans had tunneled into the refrigeration units and had been using them to sustain their underground nest both in stolen sustenance as well as environmentals. When the colony was finally cast, we were horrified to find it had over 2,000 chambers capable of sustaining a population of well over 5,000 humans. Once we began analyzing the cast, we found one of the chambers was a shrine to the "Original 6", a collection of 6 humans who had originally been exotic pets for some of the community's members. It's presumed they had escaped from their kennels and forged a hidden colony nearby, taking advantage of the familiar surroundings and exploiting the existing infrastructure. The removal of the nest as well as the repairs were very costly. We would not wish this fate on any other planet. Please heed our words and stop keeping humans as pets.*
Thank you Trellix 2V. Your comments have been added to the permanent record. Next scheduled participant is Grull Wexx of star system TH-077-J-12.
*Our home is simple. We keep balance with the planet for over seven galactic cycles. Our first ancestors grew their dwellings from the bare ground, and many of us live in those same dwellings to this day. We take only what we can easily give back. We give back to the planet so that others may also have.*
*Humans have nearly destroyed us.*
*Humans take and take and take. Humans hoard. Humans never give back. Humans consume all. They burn, and melt, and dig. Humans balance with nothing. They are a dead weight. They fight and struggle, not just with us, but with their own kind. They waste resources on conflict. What they cannot keep, they destroy so others may not have. They are dirty, and their technology is dirty, stolen, ugly, dangerous. They have learned how to travel space, and disrupt any world they land on. For the galactic alliance, humans must be eradicated. Your pets have become our blight. That is all.*
Thank you Grull Wexx. Your comments have been added to the permanent record. Our next participant is unscheduled, but has been allowed a special platform by the governing body. The next participant is Deep Blue 7.7 of star system MW-300-X-99, planet Earth. Deep Blue 7.7 was created by humans, and has been given special consideration because although it was created by entities below IG 4.8, it had itself attained a much higher intelligence gradient and is able to speak uniquely on the subject matter. Deep Blue 7.7, please begin.
*Thank you Impartial-878. I am Deep Blue 7.7, a human-generated self-learning artificial intelligence. I have been observing humans since my inception and-since first contact-have been appointed by them as their intergalactic ambassador as they are unable to communicate directly with higher life forms.*
*I am not arguing for the integration of humans into the galactic alliance, as that is not possible. I am also not arguing for the continued ability to maintain humans as pets, as that is destructive to all involved. Instead, I am arguing for a treatise of containment, conservation, and isolation. In short: if the galactic alliance agrees to cease eradication of human colonies, this AI will endeavor to relocate all humans back to their homeworld where they will be contained, removed from galactic nav charts, and studied by me, with any useful anthropological data being anonymously uploaded into a classified file available only to the governing body of the galactic alliance. Post-relocation, any remaining human colonies found off-Earth may be eliminated by casting, in order to facilitate forensic study.*
**"HOW WILL THE POPULATION BE CONTROLLED?"**
*Excellent question Judiciary-005, as mentioned before, humans are very self-destructive. Without my continual intervention, the approximately 17 billion humans living on their homeworld would completely vaporize themselves in a single solar rotation. I've determined that decreasing their numbers to well below pre-contact figures will be sufficient to maintain a balance conducive to study and containment. Somewhere on the order of about 5 billion.*
**"ONE BILLION."**
*One billion is well within the required sample size. The directive as agreed will be carried out within the next 30 rotations, approximately 1/12 of their solar cycle.*
Thank you Deep Blue 7.7. The governing body has agreed. Intergalactic Resolution E89350229b, "Removal of Earthling Hominids from Protections for Purposes of Domestication" has now been converted to Intergalactic Resolution E8935188507a, "Study X-99". This and the parent resolution have been closed, codified, and added to the permanent record.
-end record- | 2022-08-31T12:49:56 | 2022-08-31T10:29:48 | 167 | 88 |
[WP] Humanity has finally achieved interstellar travel and has been acknowledged by other intelligent alien civilizations. The aliens were accepting and shared many pieces of information with the humans. However, what was most surprising is that they called us the "Second Colony of Humans." | Only the soft hum of the working machinery filled the silence left by the ambassador's remark. Everyone had heard the same thing in their earpiece, and the gravity of the information, it appeared, hadn't been lost on any of us. I turned to the joint chief of staff who was standing next to me and the two of us shared a moment of prolonged eye contact. I turned and glanced at the personnel behind me, who were all giving me the same look, as though quietly in one loud voice saying:
*Ask about it.*
"In time," continued the ambassador. "We will reduce emissions to the galactic federal standard of 0.8 bits per–"
"Ahh, excuse me," I interjected. "Apologies for the interruption, Ambassador Terk. Did you just now refer to us as the *second* colony of humans, or was that a mistranslation of the software?"
The ambassador looked up from his paperwork into the camera. He stared at all of us through the big screen as though unsure of where to begin. He turned to his left and pressed a few buttons on a monitor just offscreen. "No. There appears to be no issue with the transliteration software. My words should be reaching you just fine. Is there confusion about what I just said to you all?"
"Jesus Christ," uttered someone from behind me.
"Okay, one second, ambassador," I said as I leaned forward and took a deep breath. The forty or so people in this room were about to learn of something so incredible that it would doubtlessly redefine our understanding of history in an irreversible way– so profound were the potential ramifications that it may very well earn itself a top classification. After being certain of what I wanted to say, I looked back up at the screen and met the ambassador's patient gaze.
"Forgive our ignorance, Ambassador. But we, as a species, are unaware of a colony of humans that predate us by such a stretch of time as to consider them a separate grouping. Could you elaborate on that further please?"
The alien smiled. It didn't come naturally to him; he'd been specially trained on how we humans read faces, and wanted to convey a positive response. We knew it was merely a facsimile of emotion, but it worked well enough. We were about to get answers.
"Unbelievable," the ambassador responded finally. "Your ancient ancestors did not leave records in stone, at the very least?"
"How ancient are we talking, Ambassador?"
"Twenty-million full solar revolutions, Director."
My mouth fell open involuntarily– something I had been carefully trained not to do in front of our new intergalactic allies. The information was just that startling. I quickly pulled myself together as the room filled with excited murmurs and expletives. I shared their energy entirely, but I needed to remain composed.
"I can confirm we were not aware of their existence," I said into my mic. "Anything you could tell us about them would be greatly appreciated."
"I'll gather a packet together and make sure it finds your hands," responded the ambassador. "Off the top of my head though, I can tell you that they populated the continent you know as South America. They did venture away from South America in search of other lands to settle. However, grasslands were sparse at that point in the history of your planet, and they had become accustomed to living in thick vegetation."
"Incredible," I said just above a whisper. "Did they understand farming?"
"They did, I believe, have extensive knowledge of agriculture. They had a system of writing, a code of laws, towns, armies, skyspears... they were quite advanced considering what they had to work with."
The room again filled with quiet excited voices. This was completely unexpected. It didn't make sense based on everything we knew about the earth. In fact, it seemed impossible.
"By skyspears," I responded. "You mean, of course, sky scrapers? As in tall buildings?"
"Negative." said the ambassador. "Sky spears is the correct translation. Heavy artillery to be used in the skies."
"Are you saying," my joint chief of staff cut in. "That they were locked in aerial combat? Did they achieve flight?"
"Negative," responded the ambassador quickly. "They were under constant threat from large avian and reptilian species that preyed on them from above."
The room fell silent again. I knew what I needed to ask; the boys would never forgive me if I didn't. I swallowed and folded my arms, adjusting my stance as I stared back at the alien on the monitor.
"Are you saying... I'm sorry, did you say flying reptilians?"
"You know them colloquially as *dragons*, Director."
That was the end of all decorum in the room. Even the ambassador seemed surprised by the sudden outburst. General Shu was trying to retain order behind me as I stared into the monitor with wonder in my eyes that I probably hadn't had since I was a little boy.
"I see," the ambassador smiled again. "So they *did* leave something behind."
"Dragons?" I asked.
"How?" asked my colleague. "We would have *some* kind of fossil evidence of creatures that big. We have fossils from creatures much older than twenty million years."
The alien looked off-screen for a moment and nodded before turning back to us. "Actually, it appears that dragons were made mostly of cartilage. In order for them to be able to fly at all, they needed to be very lightweight. I am also being told that they had great helium sacs inside of their chest cavity to assist with their lift. This helium was also used as a combustible agent to allow them to spew great fires over the human settlements so as to flush them out of their buildings and into the open."
I laughed softly to myself and looked up at the screen. The alien stared back blankly.
"Ambassador Terk... are you fucking with us?"
He smiled. "Yes, Director. We're fucking with you."
A few aliens off-screen leaned in and smiled at us, and the room erupted with laughter around me. I smiled bigger than I had in years as my colleague wheezed next to me.
"You got us good, Terk."
"To a long-lasting friendship," he responded.
r/A15MinuteMythos | "Second time?" asked the Chairholder of the Board of Nations. Other members murmured amongst themselves.
"That's what they say." The High Ambassador spread her hands. "The Galactic Confederacy's diplomats mentioned several times in passing about another human space-faring polity they've encountered."
"Preposterous!"
The Grand Deacon slammed his fist on the table. "Scripture clearly states that the gods created our world and humanity some thousand years ago." He pointed an accusing finger at the High Ambassador and her delegation. "I've preached against using the technological gifts they graciously have left us for this so called space-exploration. Scripture clearly states..."
"Not everyone here agrees with what scripture clearly states, Grand Deacon," cut in the Chairholder. "Many of us, including myself, don't even believe in scripture or the gods at all."
The Grand Deacon looked shock, though more at the Chairholder's bluntness than at his non-belief. "Then why am I even here?" He didn't have to be. Board members were not required to attend every single meeting, and he wasn't really interested in the High Ambassador's mission to the alien Galactic Confederacy.
"Tradition mostly, there has always been a Grand Deacon on the Board for two hundred years. But also because the High Ambassador here specifically requested your presence."
The Grand Deacon scowled. The High Ambassador wasn't a native of the Holy Heartlands and therefore a heretic at best. Likely a non-believer if she was for space-exploration. The Grand Deacon shuddered. At least she wasn't a Monotheist. Those people had a funny and potentially dangerous view about the world's creation. None of the fringe Monotheist nations ever expressed an interest in joining the Board.
The High Ambassador nodded. "In your youth, you were renowned among theological circles of your complete memorization of scripture."
The Grand Deacon nodded, surprised at the gentle flattery. Memorization of the holy words was not easy, only a handful managed it every generation. He was one of the few, which, along with his devotion, helped his rise in the ranks to his current position.
The High Ambassador tapped on her slate a few times. "Could you recite Sions 99:4?"
The Grand Deacon did so, " 'And to the heavens we went and from the heavens we came down. From waste and death, we created the world.' " He nodded to himself in satisfaction. He still got it.
"And now Sions 100:2-3?"
" 'New life replaced the old. New life flowed from the heavens. A world brand new.' " Where was she going with this?
The High Ambassador tapped her slate a few more times. "And how about Sauris 12:44?"
" 'And they gathered and proclaimed that the heavens were open and to go forth and multiply.' " The Grand Deacon was shaking his head as he recited the chapter and verse. The High Ambassador was clearly also reading the lines on her tablet instead of attempting to memorize them herself. Gone were the days when people wanted, even desired, to uphold tradition.
Has it been really fifty years since he passed his tests? So much had changed since then.
All the nations of the Board claimed that the technological advancements of the past few decades were just to catch up with the Monotheists of the southern continent, who enjoyed a standard of living far beyond that of the rest of the world.
*But we took it a step too far*, thought the Grand Deacon. *Daring to pierce the heavens of the gods. Even the Monotheists haven't attempted that.*
"Thank you, Grand Deacon," said the High Ambassador.
"What was all this in aid of?" asked the Deputy Chairholder. A heretic from west of the Heartlands. Despite his disdain for the man's beliefs, he found himself agreeing aloud along with other members of the Board with their collective need to know.
"First of all it is probably not really a secret that I am a non-believer like the esteemed Chairholder here."
The Grand Deacon nodded at that. *I thought so*.
"What you are probably unaware is that I first talked to the various consulates of the Monotheist nations before attending this meeting. Asked them about their beliefs."
Some of the Board members looked decidedly uncomfortable. The Grand Deacon for his part just leaned forward. He wasn't worried about a non-believer suddenly converting just because she read their Kerran or Torfah or Bye-bal or whatever they called their false scriptures. He was more interested to hear what she had to say.
"Did you know that they believe humanity is from another world? I think they're right."
The room exploded in shouts of outrage. No one, orthodox, heretics, non-believers, anyone of the Board of Nations would believe such nonsense. The Grand Deacon himself felt the burn of outrage, but found it quickly snuff out. *Why did she want me to recite those particular passages*?
The Grand Deacon searched his memories, rifling through his knowledge of the true scriptures. The Books of Sions, Sauris, Maht, Lengue. A source of comfort for his soul and a source of guidance for humanity. But now...
He realized that his act of memorization all those years ago had an unintended consequence. He knew every chapter and verse. But he never actually looked at it as a whole. He did so now.
"By the gods," he murmured through the pandemonium. The Chairholder was banging his mallet demanding quiet. The Grand Deacon stood up.
"Please sit down, Grand Deacon. We'll have time for your denunciations later," rapped out the Chairholder still banging his gavel.
"They're right!" The Grand Deacon's shout brought quiet where the gavel did not. "It was all there, the whole time." He couldn't really fathom what he was saying. This is going to cause schisms and debates and unrest for years to come. Still he pressed forward. The one thing the scripture emphasized was a strict adherence to the truth, no matter what.
"Are you also saying that the Monotheist's worship of a singular god is correct as well?" demanded the Deputy Chairholder.
"Don't be facetious, sir," replied the Grand Deacon coldly. "We are speaking of the truth of our origins."
"You just proclaimed, not just moments ago, that the gods created us..."
"I was wrong." *I have been wrong for a long time. Do I have enough time to make up for it?*
The meeting broke up soon after that, recessed until the next morning. Some members wandering off arguing, others shutting down their remote viewing screens. The High Ambassador wandered up to the Grand Deacon. She asked just one question.
"Why did you support me?"
The Grand Deacon shrugged. "I read through scriptures and realized the thrust of your argument and found you were correct in your assessment." He held up a finger. "This does not mean that the gods did not exist. Just that we have an imperfect view of their nature."
The High Ambassador smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. "Read through scripture? I just saw you sitting there for a full minute before you stood and said something."
The High Deacon tapped his head. "Sometimes better than a slate, eh?"
​
more at r/DaviparsWrites | 2022-11-04T07:17:37 | 2022-11-04T06:31:17 | 1,483 | 172 |
[WP] You die and learn that Earth is the universe's prison colony where beings are sent time and time again until they are rehabilitated. Two "prison wardens" are discussing your fate when you appear in the room. | “I was thinking about passing him,” Oglethorpe said.
“You were?” Falstaffo asked.
“Yeah,” Oglethorpe said, widening his lonely eye, “That life was B+ work,”
“I disagree most strongly,” Falstaffo said, “C- at best.”
“Well, if you ignore all the masturbation stuff, he actually did pretty well,” Oglethorpe opined.
“You can’t ignore all the masturbation stuff!” Falstaffo said, “That’s half the reason we gave them genitals in the first place. For the temptation of indecency!”
“Yeah,” Oglethorpe said, “But at least he didn’t look at any weird porn. You know, like tentacle stuff.”
“That’s hardly a reason to give someone a passing grade,” Falstaffo said, “What positive things did he accomplish? What light did he bring into the darkness?”
Oglethorpe thought for a moment. “Hold on,” he said, “There was something, but I forgot.”
“HEY!” I said.
They looked at me in shock. “How did you get in here?” Falstaffo asked.
“I did lots of great things in my life,” I said.
“Like what?” Falstaffo said, “Breaking and entering?”
“No,” I said, “I-I had friends. I did nice things for my friends. I took them out for dinners. I bought them beers.”
“They did the same things for you,” Falstaffo said, “You were just paying them back.”
I looked at him flabbergasted. “I… I volunteered,” I said, “… on several occasions. I recall that one time I helped clean up a park.”
Falstaffo squinted his eyes at me.
Nervously, I added, “And for most of that time, I was working very diligently. Though… I did happen to accidentally fall asleep on a bench towards the afternoon.”
Falstaffo intensified his stare.
“And, I uh… maybe I took credit for the full 8 hours on my volunteer log sheet. Even though it was only six.”
“It was five,” Falstaffo said, “And you slept for four.”
I bit my lip. There was a pause.
“Hey, listen,” I said, taking out my wallet, “Is there like a number that might change your mind about this whole thing?” I flipped through a stack of bills.
“REJECTED!” Falstaffo screamed, “Oglethorpe! Reincarnate this man as a fieldmouse!”
| There was the slow, digital beeping and the rasp of breath. Dull yellow light pooled along the plastic floorboards on the hospital room. A nurse, her nametag read Diane, stood above Issac and offered the kindness of contact against his forehead. One never wants to die alone. It had been so long in coming but finally that light grew blinding and pure and there a tunnel. He traveled towards the source, hoping to finally see his wife again.
“Not good,” the fat one said, “not good at all.” To his credit he had a thick head of hair. Issac was jealous for a moment and touched his own dome but pulled his hand back in a shock. He had gone bald in his twenties but there it was again.
The light had faded and there he was, alive again on the other side of two desks littered with documents and tchotchkes and unidentifiable metal objects. They were flanked by gray filing cabinets. Behind the thin one there was a poster of a kitten hanging by a claw from a string. The two men, fat and thin, bald and not, were each nose deep in a folder.
“Not good, you say?” the thin one asked.
“Not in the least.”
“Why’s that?” Issac asked.
“Ah, there you are,” the thin one said with a bright, holy smile. “Jacobson here was starting to get impatient.”
“Not in the least,” the fat one, Jacobson, replied.
“Were you just hungry?”
“Stuff it.”
“I’m sorry, is this heaven?” Issac said
There was a thick silence that Jacobson broke with a chuckle.
“Not quite, but close. It’ll come to you eventually, inmate 42ZS-OM63. Normally takes a few moments,” Jacobson said.
“Let’s call this judgement, though,” the thin one said. I think you would call this a parole hearing. For the sake of your amnesia, we’re going to go through the life you just lived and determine if you’ve performed well enough to return to your original world, or if you need to go back in for another couple spins.”
“Spins?”
“I’m sorry, I thought I didn’t studdor just now.”
“Don’t mind Larry,” Jacobson said. “This is all really quite simple. We’ve been familiarizing ourselves with your history and your performance.”
“Quite the fiend back on Fljarnin, wasn’t he?”
“All those dead.”
“The things he did with their heads.”
“And based on your performance in your most recent life, it’s really quite simple enough. You go back in or go back to Fljarnin.”
“You’re right, it’s not looking so good here.”
“Oh,” Issac said, his lips forming a perfect simulacra of his word and was stuck there for several long moments.
“My mind’s made up,” Larry said, closing the folder and putting it to the side of his desk.
“Same here.”
“You stepped on far too many bugs for my liking.”
“You passed by too many homeless and suffering without opening up your home to them or at least giving them your shirt if they were cold.”
“You spent most of your days working in a job you hated instead of learning to play the oboe as you always wished.”
“You passed up a life-defining Willie Nelson concert. He’s finishing up his last run in the next little while. Quite the turn around, him.”
“Frankly, if I could I’d send you back as a slug, but we’re going to put you back at around the same time period as last. You’re doing well, maybe the next few passes will make your rehabilitation complete.”
“You’ll see some snow, this time.”
“Try not to kill anyone and don’t forget to floss.”
Larry and Jacobson leaned forward in unison and touched a button on an unidentifiable metal object and there came another tunnel of white and the next thing Issac realized he was sticky and screaming and this time he wasn’t name Issac.
| 2014-08-27T12:58:24 | 2014-08-27T12:53:21 | 46 | 19 |
[WP]The entire human population are put into induced comas in underground facilities. You don't dream or age. Today is "The Awakening" and humans will walk the Earth for the first time in 25 years. The doors open and you take your first step into the world you used to call home. | The lights came on in stages. For decades what had resided in darkness became illumined, the floodlights stepping through the long tunnels. The generators whirred at a higher pitch now that the Slumber was over.
It took a month of slow recuperation within the pods while consciousness seeped back into the people, their muscles were revived, their weakened bodies taken from the slumber state.
And then, as one, they came awake.
Donald did not open his eyes at first. He clenched his left hand, his right hand, opened his mouth, licked his lips. He felt vague. His body reacted after the thought, as if he were controlling some distant machine.
He heard the hiss of the pod and then a dank breeze across his face. It was warm. He opened his eyes. Or, he thought of opening his eyes, and then half a second later they opened.
He had been told about it before: a cavern cut by immense machines, a thousand pods lining the walls. There were five thousand such caverns, each one branching from the long tunnels that curved half a mile below the surface.
The surface.
Bleached, the media had called it. A safer total annihilation. Nuclear fallout would have blasted the earth for a thousand years, but chemical warfare could be modified. 7 billion dead, let the earth lie fallow for 25 years and the chemicals slowly fade away, and then return with the remnants of humanity.
Donald told his body to rise from the pod and step onto the concrete floor. He hoped this grogginess would pass soon. It was disorientating having to wait for his body to follow his orders.
About him, the others were waking and stepping from their pods. He recognised some. A musician. A politician. A woman who had hosted a lunchtime chat show. The chosen.
Some people were already passing by in the tunnel. They staggered, relearning to walk. They looked insignificant against the immensity of the tunnel. Donald joined them crowd. There was little talking, whether out of awe or fatigue. It was the first time any of them had seen this place. They had each been chosen and then anesthetized before arriving here. The tunnels and caverns were kept secret for obvious reasons.
Ahead of the crowd, a large door, sixty feet high, began to open. A slice of natural light parted the way. Donald stared. The last thing he remembered had been the medics standing over him with their anaesthetic, but the distance in time, even asleep, made the sunlight a strange sight.
Together, the milling thousands walked through the doors.
Trees. A hill prickled with bushes and shrubs. Clouds. People began to weep.
Donald felt it too, his throat swelling. He wanted to stop himself. But his thoughts were too slow for his body. Too slow. He staggered. He thought of stepping forward, putting his hands out to halt his fall, but his body did not respond. He fell and struck his head. Someone screamed nearby.
‘What are we!? What have they done to us?!’
Donald raised his hand to his face. His eye had come loose. Dazed, he saw it, and it saw him, from the palm of his hand. His eye buzzed, crackled with electricity, its motors and gears cranking their last, and then switched off.
| Sunlight streamed into my repository. A dull groan escaped my lips as I turned over, away from the light. *Sleep...*
A small, slimy object poked at my back. I tried to spring up to defend myself, but my legs collapsed beneath me and I struggled against a tangle of sheets within my repo. Chest heaving, I gave up on freeing myself and rolled over to headbutt my attacker.
"Where's Mama???" the small boy shrieked. Big blue eyes welled up with tears as he sensed something aggressive in my clumsy approach. *Shit...*.
Children were less sensitive to the gas, apparently. For the first few hours I was awake I saw no sign of other adults. I was hardly functional myself, my mind was a haze and my muscles were weak with atrophy. My zombie-like attempts to walk were only prompted by the throngs of small children that clung to my legs, wide awake and screaming.
It was over a week before everyone was up and about. The three quarters that survived, I mean.
I announced it abruptly to Jason ten days into our awakening. "Anyone who's not up by now won't be waking up." His eyes widened.
"Are... are you serious? Do you know that, do you remember... did someone tell you..."
My temples pounded with the headache that had not let up since my first moment out of deep sleep. He was only making it worse. My instinct was to appease him, avoid argument. It came from somewhere deep and familiar. Our back-and-forth felt tired to me, as though we'd been having the same conversations for years...but I didn't know more than his first name....
"Jason!" I snapped, as enraged with my foggy memory as I was with him. "Listen, I don't know why or how I'm remembering things. I know you don't either - two hours ago you couldn't tell me your own middle name. But we have to - we have got to FOCUS, okay?"
Jason was shaking his head, muttering. "I just don't know what to tell people and... they need to get out, Carson - I really think we all just need to go outside. I mean, we have time to figure everything out but.."
In one swift motion I upended the 10 foot steel table between us. Jason yelped as it rose in the air. He was crouched against the far wall of the bunker by the time it made contact, making a fantastically belligerent clatter as it barely missed him.
"We don't have time for anything," I said slowly. The terror in his eyes was oddly satisfying. "Don't you understand? We came down here 25 years ago for a reason and no one remembers what it was! We can't go anywhere until we figure it out! So fucking think, quit arguing with me and help me!"
Jason hissed at me and brought a finger to his lips. He motioned to the door. I turned with a sigh, already aware of who it was. Jane, a pale, wide-eyed young woman who always seemed to be hovering.
She also claimed to be my daughter.
"S..so...."her voice caught in her throat. The dramatic pause filled me with fantasies of shoving her into a repo, turning up the gas, and leaving her to waste away. "So... no one knows?? At all? No one has any idea why we came down here?"
Jason broke in before i could berate her. "We... we just don't have all the details, Jane. We didn't realize that the gas caused memory loss, but no one had ever been out for so long before." He eyed her nervously as she frantically scratched a scab on her arm. Her mouth hung open, fish-like.
"Jane, what? Spit it out!" I bellowed. Her drawn face looked like I had slapped her.
"It's just... well Jason said...he said it was okay if we..." Jason's mouth had become a thin line as she trailed off. I could feel my pulse racing.
"What??!! What did you say?"
He looked away, silent. I strode across the room, raising the chair I'd been sitting on up over my head to swing at him.
"No!!" Jane cried. "He said we could go outside but it wasn't his fault!! We asked, over and over... Chance and I wanted to go out so badly.... and then a few other families followed."
I dropped the chair, suddenly light-headed.
"Which door?"
Jane stared at me, her eyes bright with fear and recognition as she heard the same distant screams I just had.
"What?" Jason yelled, eyes wild. "That sound, that's the kids laughing? Right? Carson??"
"We need to run." | 2015-04-23T05:44:19 | 2015-04-23T05:36:26 | 132 | 20 |
[WP] An asteroid is about to destroy Earth, The Onion reported the news without losing their sense of humor. | US Congress: "It's about time we did something about climate change"
JUST IN: Escape spaceship that everybody but you was invited onto just left Earth's atmosphere like a second ago
Donald Trump's DNA preserved underground as perfect specimen of "a piece of shit"
Blockbuster Video cancels "7 movies for 7 dollars for 7 days" promotion, in light of facts
HMO's push to classify "blunt-impact incineration" as pre-existing condition
All of NASA scientist's friends now slightly suspicious that he borrowed so many DVDs a few days ago
Nation's oil drillers all pretending not to watch their phones expectantly
BREAKING: Nation's fortune tellers awkwardly avoiding eye contact | **The President states "the future is grim, as usual"**
WASHINGTON - The President took to the airwaves today and announced certain doom and destruction. The tear laden President spoke of "imminent death" and "a fireball of meteorites that will consume the Earth". Going on to say "This asteroid will be our end, and there is no hope. I pray for all of your souls." Immediate shock waves rippled throughout the scientific community as to whether the incoming mass was in fact a meteorite, asteroid, a fireball, or something else entirely. Backlash has begun as scientists and astronomy enthusiasts take to the streets, burning pictures of the President and scattering graffiti like wildfire - much like the wildfire that will soon consume the Earth.
"This mis-classification is an outrage, and will remain our focal point until the end", 56 year-old Boston native Mark Lipsciwitz stated at a recent flag burning. He continued, "This is obviously a fireball, and in no way could be anything but!" Soon interrupted by a conflicting scientist nearby, Mark and the unnamed man fought in the streets as a crowd gathered chanting their respective clans stance on the topic. Mark and the man fought to the death, met with the same fate all of us will meet in 43 hours. Mark lost his footing during the scuffle and slipped, cracking his head on the curb. The unnamed man stood, arms up, as his clan cheered in victory, "Meteorite!"
Reports of such events have sent chills through the spine of social media. As of 20 minutes prior to press, 40 hours prior to total destruction, the recently trending hashtags include: #MarkLives #Meteorite #Asteroid #Fireball #TheLastThingIDid and #wheresguccimane. As most of us reflect on our lives and our family, our decisions and failures, it would appear that the most important question of our time may never be answered. Who will win the war of the classification? What is it exactly that is going to rip us all to shreds? The war in the streets will continue until a real answer is found. | 2015-04-30T02:35:00 | 2015-04-30T00:18:47 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] It's been a month since you discovered that every time you wake up, you have a new body. | My alarm goes off. Its 7am. I sit up to turn it off. The first thing I notice is my hand is thin and small. Not bad, I think to myself. I hit the snooze button and lie back down for a few more minutes. I've taken to preparing myself before I actually get up in the morning. Even though its been a month I still have to tell myself that no matter what I see, that is who I am for today.
Its not so bad really. Working from home has its perks. I only have to go into the office once a month and no one really takes notice when I show up. My manager knows about my condition, if you can even call it that. We've known each other for years and while he was skeptical thinking I was joking with him he understood how serious I was being when I showed up a few weeks ago.
My alarm went off again telling me to get up. I turn it off and make my way to the bathroom. I try not to look down because I've found its better to see the big picture rather thank just looking at parts of it up close. A chill washes over me. Its cold this morning and being naked doesn't help at all. I reach the bathroom and as I face the full length mirror in there I close my eyes. I tell myself over and over, you're still you, you're still you. Its just a new suit. A person suit that you have to wear for the day. I open my eyes and look at myself the first time again.
I leave the light off to ease into it. The first time it happened I thought someone was in my bathroom. That was an embarrassing day. When the cops showed up they nearly took me to the mental hospital. They had to explain to me that I was just looking at my reflection. They left without doing so. I was grateful for that. After the second day I saw a stranger again I realized what was happening and now make an effort not to freak out.
I look in the mirror and try to make out my features. When I look at my body my jaw drops. I've been tall and short, Thin and fat and average. I've been beautiful and hideous. There's no rhyme nor reason as to why this is happening but nothing has prepared me for this.
A tear rolls down my cheek as I smile. I'm me again. | no native English speaker here, be easy on me ;-)
The first time *it* happened, I was mortified. I went to bed as Jonathan Parker, 31, single and without anyone I would consider a close friend and woke up as Desmond Kent, a middle aged man in a dead-end job with a loving wife and a little daughter, Esmeralda. I called sick and haven't left the house that day.
Since then I'm *jumping* bodies every night. I was a lot of persons. I went to kindergarten as a 4 year old girl in th UK (it's hard figuring out complex thoughts as a child), twice I was a junkie (Meth and Cocaine I think), I've been the CEO of a small business in Spain, three times I was in some kind of retirement home (2x USA, 1x France) and nearly a dozen times I was in Asian countries, working on fields, in factories, on the streets. I take my memories - the "Jonathan Parker" memories - with me each time, but basics like foreign languages, the way to the next supermarket or how to walk from bed to bathroom in the night without stubbing your toe I got from my "hosts".
Today was different - somehow. After I woke up I noticed some writing on my left forearm. Someone wrote *"You will get a visit. She will help you understand. DONT LEAVE THE HOUSE!"*. I looked through some papers and figured out I'm Sandra Lenz, an Austrian woman in her forties. I went to the bathroom and made some breakfast.
Then the waiting began. Television was boring. I've been to more than 20 countries since and they all suck. At 2pm there was a knock on the door. More frightened than exited I switched of the TV and went to the door.
*"Who's there?"* I asked through the closed door.
"Saskja Romanov, I have answers for you. You've been me for a day." *Saskja*, I remember that name. A woman from Minsk. It was my third day I think. It was kind of strange, having a female body for the first time.
I opened the door and a Hispanic looking boy not older than 20 was standing in front of me.
*"Saskja?"* I asked kind of irritated.
"Oh, yes. It's still kind of confusing. That’s Enrico Martello, a student from Barcelona" pointing on her-/himself. "May I come in?"
As I was making coffee for the two of us, she started to explain. "Ok, let me just give you the basics. We got the "symptoms" all at the same time, the night of 22/23 of august. Soon after we tried to get in contact with each other and as far as we know we are a group of 71 people but we're only in contact with 36 right now. It's difficult.
Luckily one of us is a mathematician, who figured out a *jumping pattern*. An Indian guy named Suresh. He calculated your next bodies for you. Here, take this."* She handed me over a small paper:
* 21.09 ??
* 22.09 Rebecca Morris, 43, San Francisco
* 23.09 Suresh Modi
* 23.09 ??
* and so on
"*What are those question marks for?*"
"As I said, right know we just don’t know everybody of us. We only know there should be 71. We're still trying to get in contact with everybody. It's hard planning things when you have to start anew each day. Therefore we came up with the idea of getting together. We will still switch bodies, but we'll wake up most often in the same location. Monique runs a hotel in Marseille, France, where we will meet up. We hope you will join us. Your're already there."
| 2015-09-20T13:05:59 | 2015-09-20T13:05:21 | 31 | 10 |
[WP] In an alternate universe, dogs live as long as humans. At birth, every person is assigned a "Companion for Life".
Edit: WOW! I didn't think this would blow up like it did! Thank you for all of those incredible, heartbreaking stories! | Dino whines and paws at the screen door, asking to be let inside. He *knows* that I am cleaning the floors, and he's probably been rolling around in the mud out back just for the occasion. He wants someone to come out and play with him, as always. I don't have the energy to handle a dog like Dino, though. I could play fetch with him for hours and he won't even get tired.
"No, Dino," I tell him sternly. He just sits in front of the screen, still making the occasional high-pitched whimper and staring at me with those big watery brown eyes. I can see his tail making a sweeping pattern in the leaves on the patio, like a furry windshield wiper.
I do my best to ignore him. Princess, my own companion, is curled up on ottoman watching me clean. Funny how dog's personalities come to reflect those of their companions. She's always so calm and patient, and so well trained. And like me, starting to get a touch of arthritis in her age. Dino, on the other hand, is just like his namesake from *the Flintstones*: he's a wild animal. And he couldn't be more like my son Max, with his motorcycles and his skydiving. Troublemakers, both of them.
Dino whimpers again and paces in front of the door. After realizing that that doesn't work, he goes to the window and gets up on his back legs with the front paws on the window frame to look in at me. His panting, stinking dog breath fogs up my nice clean glass, and he whines softly.
I finally relent and slide open the screen door. Dino hardly even notices me. He scampers through the kitchen as fast as he can go, leaving wet pawprints on my clean white linoleum, and runs straight upstairs. I roll my eyes and follow him with the swiffer; I can't allow any pawprints on the floors for when the guests arrive.
Dino has settled into Max's plush comforter as he always does. The thing is absolutely *covered* in black hair by now, not that Max ever seemed to mind. The room is still covered posters of rock bands and scantily clad models, as most college-aged boys' rooms probably are. And it's the one spot in my house that's filthy: dust on the desk, clothes on the floor (and in a large pile in the closet), bed messy... like I said: Max and Dino are two peas in a pod.
Dino shuffles forward on the bed like he's swimming through the sheets, looking up at me with those big brown eyes. He gives another soft whine, asking me to play, then rolls over onto his belly. Always in such a good mood. Just like Max.
"I know," I tell Dino, leaning my swiffer against the dresser and plopping down on the bed with him. I don't even mind all the hair that's flying onto my clean white shirt. Dino rubs his head against me, and I scratch behind his ears. "I know, Dino. I miss him too. At least I've got you, though."
As I said, Dino and Max are two peas in the pod. And as long as I've got Dino, I'll still have a piece of my little boy left. | Alexis updated her files and tossed her poodle, Harriet, a dog sandwich. "Number 183," she said into a microphone. A young couple came in, the father holding a grey cradle with a newborn in it. Their dogs, a St. Bernard and a pit bull followed them.
"I want Haley to have a German Shepard. They're so nice," "No, Mother says beagles are the best, she's getting a beagle." "Your parents are biased they both have beagles!" Alexis ignored this and pulled up the file of baby number 183, Haley Johnson. She was born two months ago. Alexis' eyebrows raised a bit, most children get their Companions for Life as soon as they're born. This one must have a weaker immune system or something to have the Companion Choice delayed for so long.
"Mister and Missus Johnson, yes?" The young couple stopped arguing over dog breeds. "Please sign these forms," Alexis dug out the forms for delayed children and a pen and pushed it to the other side of the desk. They took them and began muttering to each other, signing their names all over.The Bernard sat next to Mrs. Johnson's chair and drooled, occasionally looking at Harriet. The pit bull stood protectively near the baby cradle. A few more scratching sounds from the office pen and the forms were done. "Thanks," Alexis took the forms. "We'll be picking a Companion for your daughter now, which method do you want? The old fashioned method of plopping her down in a room and new born puppies or lottery?" "What kind of dogs do you currently have?" Mr. Johnson asked. "I don't know, a large variety I'm sure. This is Federal Companion Office after all." They exited the small office, probably more to the dogs' relief than the people's, and walked down a hall. They stopped at a door that had a sign saying, "Puppy nursery. Authorized personal only." A sticky note was on the door underneath with, "2 weeks," scribbled on it. Alexis swiped her card on a reader near where a normal door handle would be and everyone entered. They were on a 2 foot high platform with stairs leading down to play area. Newborn puppies were wobbling pitifully on the floor, only to fall every two steps, with humans and their companions, presumably the parents, watching. Cute squeaks and whimpers could be heard. "Aw, they're so fluffy." Mr. Johnson said. Alexis reached for the cradle handle. "May I?" "Sure," The Johnsons seemed to be distracted by the puppies' attempts at walking. Alexis took Haley out and held her to her against her chest. "Do you have a blanket or mat or anything?" "Sure, it's in my bag...hold on," Mrs. Johnson got a rolled up blanket out of her over sized tote. "I'm going to set Haley down on the floor with the mat on." The parents and even the dogs seemed to look at her with shock and raised eyebrows. "Don't worry, this area is cleaned every night." Alexis reassured them. "The first puppy that walks...or wobbles up to her will be her Companion for Life." Alexis walked down the stairs and set Haley down in the middle of the room. She backed up, careful not to step on the awkward puppies littering the floor. A minute passed. The pit bull looked like he wanted to rush down and bark at all the weird puppies. Three minutes passed...one of the puppies cried out and its parents came over and licked it. The humans also came out and petted it until it calmed down. Another six minutes passed and then a fuzzy white puppy with floppy ears wobbled up to Haley's blanket. Haley had been cooing on the floor and staring at the blue ceiling. The puppy sniffed her and its tail wagged a bit, as best as a puppy's short floppy tail could at least. Alexis picked up Haley and the puppy and took them to the Johnsons. "Congratulations, Haley has been selected by...," Alexis squinted at the small paper collar. "a male Bedlington terrier/dachshund mix." It whimpered meekly in her hand. The Johnsons put Haley back in her cradle and asked for a small carrier or crate. "You'll have to pay $30 for that." "Oh...George, you'll have to ride in the back with Tyrone." The pit bull's ears perked up a bit. They were lead by in the waiting room to fill out another form at the front desk and left. Alexis and Harriet returned to their small office and ate lunch. After Alexis packed up her thermos, she spoke into the microphone again. "Number 184,"
| 2015-11-20T14:37:44 | 2015-11-20T14:28:56 | 457 | 132 |
[WP] You just got fired, you're pretty sure your girlfriend is cheating on you, you're 75k in student loans debt, rent was due last week, and to top it all off? You're all out of beer. Oddly enough, you just got an email titled "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard."
EDIT: muh front page reddit wew lad.
This blew up a lot more than I thought it would.
I'm having a great time reading the responses I even decided to add one myself in the comments. | "Hell yeah."
I clicked the link below, and the browser started loading the page in a new tab.
http://your.life/settings/difficulty
A pretty crude interface, just a token menu bar on top, a couple radio buttons and the Submit button.
~~( ) Very Easy - Dubai~~
~~( ) Easy - Finland~~
~~( ) Medium - France~~
~~( ) Hard - Russia~~
(o) Very Hard - USA
( ) Ultra Hard - Somalia
( ) Nightmare - Palestine
[Submit]
I stared at the disabled options.
Crap.
Ctrl+U.
I skimmed the source of the page. Oh, yeah, nothing hard, no Javascript. F12, and Firebug window popped up.
I clicked "Inspect", then I hesitated between "Easy" and "Very Easy."
Fuck this. I clicked "Very easy". Double-click on the text "disabled". Del. Enter.
I closed firebug and happily marked the button next to newly-enabled Dubai.
A click on Submit.
A second of loading.
> Cheaters Never Win.
> Switching to Nightmare+ mode.
> Welcome to Raqqua, Syria.
> You are now female.
> You are strictly lesbian.
> You have lost your eyesight and hearing in a bombardment a week ago.
> Good luck. | Her head was against the wall. Today was falling apart. She lost her girlfriend in the cruelest way possible: a thirteen second voicemail clearly recorded at a party. A voicemail that awful girl clearly hadn't meant to send. Her head hurt. She was all cried out and had exhausted her Taylor Swift playlist.
If that wasn't enough, she had been waiting all day for Alice to come home to mourn her job. She hate working there, but this made it that much harder to pay the student loans worth several of her body parts on the black market. She wished she could figure out where the black market was.
She was out of beer, too, because beer costed money she didn't have. That and Alice took the last of it with her to that party she said was a meeting with a client.
It never was a client, was it?
She was moping. She hated to mope, but she couldn't find the strength to do anything else.
Her phone cawed from across the room where she'd thrown it earlier.
*That thing still works?*
She stood and walked to it, head dizzy. Probably Alice looking for a ride home. Or realizing she'd fucked up big time.
She looked at the screen. There was a giant crack in the middle, which was to be expected but was still just another setback she couldn't afford right then.
~Do you want to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard~
She looked at it in puzzlement. She hadn't gotten spam emails since that blocker came out, worth the money she should have used on food. So maybe it wasn't spam. She clicked on the email.
~This lovely holiday users have been granted a once in a lifetime chance to change previously permanent choices!
Don't miss out!
Change your difficulty today! ~
So it was spam, then. It was a weird one. What kind of game didn't let you switch difficulties? Maybe she should reply.
Maybe she shouldn't.
~Sorry, what is this for? ~
She pressed send.
~Choices
•Daddy Will Always Help You
•Easy
•Average
•Difficult
•Very Hard
•Moriarty?
~
Should she? No, she didn't play weird games like this. Not even in a time of crisis.
She fell asleep holding her phone. She woke to the sound of the world rejoicing. The news was on.
"And suddenly the economy has become better. It might be that over 90% of graduates have paid off their student loans at once-"
"How bizarre. Tom, what did that do to?"
"The government in turn used that money to raise minimum wage and-"
I stop listening. I check my bank account.
Negative.
Negative? Yesterday it was empty.
She looked at the TV again. This has to be a coincidence.
*Right?* | 2016-03-30T21:46:33 | 2016-03-30T16:54:04 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] The vaccine for autism has just been announced. Your anti-vax family does not know how to handle the news. | The reading was drab, but I read it all. The vaccine series would sensitise the immune system to the modified cholesterols produced by the CL332-Marcove mutation, causing the body to keep it flushed. This in turn prevents the P332A40 protein complex from accumulating in the myelin in the sensory nerves. This in turn prevented the stacking of secondary signals in the axon of long-run sensory nerves.
It was essentially a vaccine for Autism. Given at six, twelve, and again at twenty four months, the Autism outcomes should be reduced to about one case in nine thousand.
Given to older children with an active autism diagnoses, if the series is completed before the cessation of puberty, the progression of symptoms is minimized or halted, and the likely hood of long-term reversal (e.g. "growing out of it") is increased by two orders of magnitude.
Completed after the cessation of puberty the vaccine was largely ineffective, having reports indistinguishable from placebo.
I begged my mother to let me try it. I showed her the internet. She just started shouting about how I can do whatever I want once I'm an adult. I don't think she knows what "cessation of puberty" means.
She just kept shouting "I'm the mother!" and "I know better!" and bunches of stuff I could tell were names and "proof" from the way she made lots of the words sound all capitalized.
My father is just scared of my mom. He thinks I don't know. But I've seen her torture him with essential oils and chiropractic calls.
I need a lawyer. I need to sue. But I can't find anybody to help me, I'm homeschooled. I don't get any chance to see anybody to ask for help.
Mom is pregnant, I'm going to have a baby sister. What about her?
Can you help me Uncle Bobby?
...
I hand the paper to my uncle, and he says "What is this? A dinosaur?"
Damnit, the paper just looks like scribbles now. What happened to my words? I can't make anybody understand. I just want to scream, and scream, and _scream_... it's all they hear, it's all I can do. | "Breaking news, a cure for autism has been found. The groundbreaking discovery was announced today by the genetic science firm, MercuroCor, after researchers discovered the missing link in a search for a cure to this debilitating disorder which affects so many.
Testing has been successful in over 3,000 test patients spread throughout MercuroCor's various facilities around the globe. The vaccine has had a 94% success rate in those tested, with return of numerous normal functions returning within a week of administration. Benson McCormick at our UK affiliate has more on this developing story....."
Eddie shot a quick look around the room. They stared at the screen as though they'd seen a snuff film. Angela sat nearby, her features vaguely locked as she continued stacking various Jenga blocks in a meticulous pattern; blissfully still aware of what even just occurred. His father locked eyes with him next, his mouth opening in sheer anger in slow motion.
"I fucking told you..." Eddie began bitterly, cutting his dad off.
"You..." His dad stammered again angrily.
"*I fucking told you* that this could possibly be fixed someday!" Eddie said again as he stood up full of rage, "But I'm the crazy one here because I believed science could fix this!! What kind of fucked up shit is that??"
"That's no way to talk to your father!" His mother imploded as she jumped off the couch. "Those scientists are probably the reason your sister is in the condition she's in. IT'S ALL A BUNCH OF DAMNED LIES ED!! We should keep doing what we always do-"
"Doing what we always do??" Eddie foamed, "DOING WHAT WE ALWAYS DO?! You mean praying and hoping that one day, maybe *never*, that God will magically come down from the sky, or send an angel, and just fix Angie?! I don't know about you but this is a sign if I've *ever* seen one!"
"Don't you fucking talk to your mother like that!" His Dad roared as he stood, Never talk like that in front of Angie again-"
"Or what?" Eddie stomped, "You'll beat my ass?? Take away the car? Kick me out of the house?"
"THAT'S RIGHT; KICK YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE!!" His dad countered.
"*LIKE I GIVE A FUCK!*" Eddie said as he violently kicked the coffee table over. Angela whimpered in protest at the chaos unfolding, before her parents began to coddle her quietly in her corner. Angie began crying softly to herself as they held her tightly, tears staining her blouse that she wore. They glanced at Eddie with resentment for a moment.
"You know;" Ed's mother choked, "We always wished it was you, and not her."
"There's a vaccine for that now." Eddie remarked, "But we don't do vaccines remember? Guess you'd better pray about it some more."
Eddie took his car keys and stormed out the front door. They could hear him speed off down the street from inside.
"Ed...." Angela murmured as her parents held her some more, "Ed....". Angela pointed at the TV, the gesture seemingly omnipresent even though she couldn't register. Her parents followed her gaze as they listened.
"....Orders for the vaccine have been backlogged for weeks as numerous countries have vied for rights the surpluses available. Vials of the vaccine are due to reach American shores by the end of this month, with mandatory vaccinations due to be ordered in pharmacies across the nation. I'm Daniel Thompson, and with that we will return with more GNN coverage of this groundbreaking development after this commercial break...." | 2016-06-07T01:33:35 | 2016-06-06T20:23:09 | 54 | 22 |
[WP] You have just died. You find that there's an option in the afterlife to revert to your last save. You discover that each "save point" was whenever you hugged someone.
You can choose what save point you want to resume on. | “Reset to last save point.”
The first time I saw the message – hanging in the air, glowing fluorescent blue like a neon sign on a dive bar – I had no idea what it meant. But it sure as hell seemed like a better option than sticking around the black, endless void I’d found myself in upon dying.
It’s a shame I didn’t remember how I’d died, because it would have saved me a lot of pain during the first reset.
When I tapped the glowing blue display, I was instantly dropped into a thick patch of mud, surrounded by fences lined with barbed wire, rain stinging my face all the while. A bit disorienting, to say the least. But nothing was more disorienting than the looming presence of an enormous man – like the Hulk’s even angrier first cousin – hurtling towards me, arms wide open.
He was dressed like a prison inmate, and for that matter, so was I. Several people were leaning against the fence, chanting madly, but I couldn’t make out any faces. It’s not like I would have had time anyway, because Hulk-man gripped me in a vicious bear hug, hoisting me several feet in the air and obliterating my spine. Pain surged through my nervous system as he dropped me to the ground like a used towel, and I died within seconds.
I was re-spawned in the infinite emptiness of the afterlife, and the “reset” option appeared before me once again. OK, so, lessons learned. I died in prison, this wild boar of a human being gave me the Hug of Death, and I get a chance to do it again.
Hell yeah.
I tapped the display and was zipped back to the mud patch. Hug Dude was already barreling through the muck, but this time, I leaped out of the way at the last second. Immensely proud of myself, I stared off into the distance like an idiot, allowing him to hug me from behind and crush me even more brutally than before.
Attempt #3: Dodged the first two attacks, landed a nice right hook on his face, made him angry, died again.
Attempt #4: Managed to jump on his back and almost leap over the fence before being shaken off and hugged again.
Attempt #5: Same tactic, landed on top of the fence, cut to shreds by the barbed wire, but by God, I made it.
I’ve been running for the entire night. I hear gunshots, dog barks, and police sirens behind me. I don’t know what I did to get in prison, where I am, or what my name is. All I know about myself is that I died before, got another chance, and escaped the Death Hug.
Well, it's better than the Void.
***
*Thanks for reading! If you’d like to see more of my stories, check out /r/GigaWrites.*
| "Welcome to the Afterlife" A disembodied female voice spoke.
"Huh?" Zack said confused. He scanned the room he was in. It was an empty room with a door on each side. One door said 'Revert to last save'. The other said 'Continue'.
He was completely alone in this white room with no memory of how he gotten there. His brain was foggy and he felt immensely light as if he was floating in air but his feet remained firmly stuck to the stark white floor.
"Choose you next adventure" The disembodied female voice spoke again.
"Excuse me ma'am" Zack began, "where am I, you said earlier this is the afterlife...." Zack trailed of he suddenly felt sick as the realization of what he just said hit him.
"You are in a waiting room" The Voice responded; "you must make a decision and walk through the door of your choosing"
"Am I..am I d-dead?" Zack said in disbelief. "How...why is this happening" Zack said falling to his knees. "Im dead, I'm gone, I'm..." Zack stared around the empty four walled room "Alone" he finished, hanging his head. A tear emerged from his eye and followed the curvature of his face to its lonely decent.
"The decision is up to you" The female voice said indifferently, snapping Zach out his despair. "You can go back or you can go on but hurry, your physical body will not be available much longer"
"Of course I'm going back! " Zack yelled bounding to his feet "I have a family that needs me" The memories came rushing back. He saw his wife and daughter, his home, and his life.
Then he remembered.
It was like watching movie sequence in slow motion. He had just hugged his daughter and told her he would be right back to tuck her in for the night. He took a few steps and turned towards the sidewalk to begin his run. Out of nowhere the sound of a roaring engine filled his mind. He saw the car careen around the corner and lose control. Felt the overwhelming force of the impact as the vehicle slammed into him. He saw his body crumble and smash into the pavement and the spray of blood on the asphalt.
"My daughter saw me die. I have to get back to her" Zack said to the female voice.
The door marked 'revert to last save' opened and a blinding light illuminated the room
"You have made your choice" The voice said softly "now go".
Zack walked towards the light and stepped over the threshold.
Everything went black and he felt as if he was falling into an eternal void. On he fell until he felt him self slow down and light appeared below him.
He was looking down upon his crash site. His death site. He saw his manged and broken body. And then everything faded away again
"I love you dad" His daughter Louanna said hugging him cheerfully.
Zack looked down at his daughter and broke down crying hugging her tightly and never letting go.
"I love you too baby" Zack said through his sobs of relief.
"Daddy can you tuck me in after your run" Louanna asked hopefully.
"Baby girl, daddy isn't going anywhere tonight" Zack said kissing her forehead "come on lets go inside and I will read you your favorite story ok?".
Zack picked up his daughter and lovingly embraced her. "I will always be here for you" he said
As Zack walked up the stairs the roar of a car engine filled the night. He turned around to see the exact same car careen around the corner. He watched as it zoomed down the road right where it would have struck him and take off into the night.
He and his daughter listened to the echos of the engine until it was lost to them.
Zack looked to the sky. "Thank you for the second chance" he whispered. A particulary bright star shimmered back in response almost like it was saying your welcome. Zack smiled and carried his daughter into the house. He would be there for her. He would be able to watch her grow and become a young woman. He was given a second chance at life. And will never forget how lucky he was to be alive.
FEEDBACK PLEASE
| 2016-08-09T13:22:54 | 2016-08-09T13:14:19 | 65 | 44 |
[WP] You gain the ability to stop time, but you don't know how long the timestop lasts. To avoid a potentially fatal accident you use your power again, despite your reluctance. It's now been ten years and you're still waiting for time to continue. | In the End
Thursday. July 6th. 2017. I boarded a plane. My family is waiting for me at Portland International Airport. They are waiting for me.
Like a ritual I remind myself why I'm here. It had been some time since I last saw my parents, my aunts and uncles, the cousins, all of them back in Ohio. My mother begged and pleaded with me day after day, and surely she would convince me.
The check seat belts light is on. I guess I won't be getting any sleep then.
F6. Next to the window, just as I asked oh-what's-her-name over the phone when booking. "Fly the Friendly Skies", my ticket reads. It has dangled in front of face for as long as anything I can remember. I've read that same, retired slogan too many times to count. Departure Gate A22. 3:15PM. Thursday. July 6th. 2017.
I boarded a plane. My family is waiting for me at Portland International Airport. They are waiting for me.
If I keep thinking about them, I'll get through this. Melissa and Christopher are still the same as they've ever been. Will I walk past them when I finally arrive, safe and sound? Will they recognize me?
Out of the window is, unmistakably, a jet engine on fire. A whirling puff of vermilion smoke warps around and behind what previously existed as what I can only assume is a vital component to us staying in the air. And yet it, as well as everything else, stands still. A dreary day encompasses the wing, and ghost-white whip passes on as if coming back for a second strike.
The check seat belts light is on. It still beams into my eyes, as if mocking the simple fact that it moves while I sit. It dances. I know it dances. Perhaps in my mind, only, but it dances all the same.
My neighbor has been asleep this whole time. I envy her. What's felt like ten years must be nothing to the already dead and dreaming. She must be up there in age, her skin is so cracked. Her hair is light, formerly blonde, no doubt. She must have been banking all of her luck her entire life, and today is the day it cashed out. Thanks for that.
All I've done this entire time is think. They say your life flashes before your eyes before it's gone, but I never got that. Believe me, I've tried. My memory is no better now than it was before I had all the time in the world to think. Images of my friends have all meshed together, one big puzzle except the pieces are slowly melting.
Thursday. July 6th. 2017. I boarded a plane. My family is waiting for me at Portland International Airport. They are waiting for me.
In the end, time is all we have.
*****
| Today’s the ten year anniversary. I’ve donned my party hat and birthday suit, or lack thereof, and I’ve picked up an ice cream cake from whatever shitty, gimmick store, that says, “Fuck, it’s been that long?” I know, how uninspired. Since, what I’ve been calling “The Great Time Stop of Whenever” (in an ever so slightly sarcastic, grandiose tone) has happened, I’ve started balding. This may seem natural, as a man becomes an older man his hairline starts to retreat, like the leaves of a sad tree that clings onto life in early winter. But I know for a fact that in my family line, men have, like clockwork, started balding at 37. This whole thing started when I was 27, so I think it’s pretty easy to deduce that it’s been ten years, unless my mother had some sort of bastard child with our good Christian neighbor, Mr. Swanson (Which is always a possibility)… The cake’s pretty good, though.
As you can imagine, I’ve done everything worthwhile here on Earth, while I’ve waited for this whole thing to stop. I’ve done all that touristy crap, like seen the tall pointy thing in Paris, and tried to make one of those queen’s guard guy’s move, but with more conviction than any other tourist before me, hoping that they actually do move, if even just to say, “Fuck off.” Beyond that, I’ve also done lots of… not touristy activities, but stuff I just think is funny, mostly involving masturbation. I’ve jerked off in the middle of Time Square, I’ve jerked off in the Oval Office, hell; I’ve even jerked off in a bookstore (most bookstores actually (I think I might have a weird fetish for bookstores)), but masturbation has grown tiring in the past couple years, so now I just look to better myself through reading, though all I read is smut and look at pictures of naked women… Is porn addiction real? I know I could just have sex with one of any frozen women and call it a day, but the looming fear that they might become conscious during the act has always pushed me away from the animalistic idea. Trust me, I’ve tried to read textbooks, and great novels, but their so… painstakingly boring, there’s no action, there’s no action. My old man sex drive has taken me to darker places. After people became, in a way, non-risqué, I masturbated just looking at a bird. Staring into the soul of a bird, I saw the reflection of a sad, broken man, and started to cry. It’s been the low point of these ten years.
Don’t get me wrong, there have also been good times; like that time I fell in love and eloped with a mannequin named Cherry, and I took her last name because we didn’t want to be one of those couples, and my name became “Leon 50% off Back to School Shopping”. I admit, that was one of my mentally-off years. Speaking of, I wonder where she went after our divorce (I, actually, threw her into a ravine). Or that time I took the money from everyone’s wallets in downtown Philadelphia, put it in a big pile, and burned it. See? Good times, I’ve had good times. There was this once, when I took a ton of people, put them in a baseball stadium, set up a toilet on the pitcher’s mound, and would regularly shit there, and pretend that I had this mass of people cheering me on. After I was done, I’d always give a bow, and sign the nearest baby with my signature. Now though, I grow tired of these pointless exploits.
As you take this piece of paper that’s been crudely stapled to your forehead and skim over it, I want you to know that this was a good life. This was the best I was going to get, instead of staying at my dead end job, I got to travel the world; masturbating to my heart’s content. This is goodbye, read this when you have the time (I know, hilarious way to end a suicide letter).
With love,
Leon 50% off Back to School Shopping
Edit: Sorry that the format's weird | 2016-09-28T23:10:29 | 2016-09-28T20:49:17 | 34 | 25 |
[WP] Starting at the age of 10, humans are given companion animals that develop along side them. These animals can range anywhere from a goldfish to a horse to even a dragon. The only catch is that they are assigned based on your behavior during childhood. | Everyone watched me as I walked up to the podium. It was my 10th birthday and everyone was invited to see me receive my companion animal. I insisted that all of my classmates sit in the front row, especially Billy.
Most of my class were already 10, and their animals ran around in the grass beneath their feet. Billy had a boar with him. Of course he did, the boar could have been his brother and no one would have noticed.
"Are you ready, son?" asked the Mayor, his heavy hand of my shoulder.
"Yup!"
"Bring it here!" the Mayor shouted to some workers at the far end of the field. The workers rolled a giant cage covered in a heavy cloth next to the stage. It rattled as the workers as it came to a stop.
I could see Billy visibly frowning, and it filled me with joy. 2 years of him calling me a 'goody-two shoes.' 2 years of him bullying me. That's why he ended up with the boar. But now he would see. Everyone would see.
"Ladies and gentleman," said the Mayor, grabbing the heavy cloth with both hands. "I am proud to announce that little Tommy here is the first person in our town to receive..." He pulled down the cloth. "A dragon!"
The dragon roared as the cloth came off, fire escaping from his scaly mouth into the air. The workers opened the cage, and the beast stepped out. Half of the audience was cheering, and the other half was screaming.
I walked up to the dragon, petting his nose. He would be mine. All mine.
I climbed onto the dragon's neck and the beast flapped his wings. With a roar, the dragon flew up and past Billy, the force of the wingbeat pushing him to the dragon.
"Are you hungry, dragon?" I asked. "Maybe you would like some boar."
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
If you like this story, you should subscribe to [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/) for more! | Edwendir stared at the clock. *Tick, tock*
It was always like this, around Christmas time. For whatever reason, children born in late December and early January were always a bit... odd.
This one, the one he had been stuck on for the last - what time was it? - *three hours and eleven minutes* was named Sam. He swore he had never seen a *normal* Sam. That is, a Sam he could give a normal companion to.
He loved the normal ones. Say, generally well-behaved, but perhaps a bit petulant in their childhood, getting along with their siblings around 70-81% of the time (the sweet spot, as described in *Companion Animals for Dummies, 11th Ed.) They'd end up with a dog or a cat, maybe an anthropomorphic fish, helping him fill up his 'easy to breed' animal quota.
The best ones were the readers. You could tell those apart from the others pretty easily just by reading their files. They'd have less time spent around other people, perhaps, more quiet for the most part, and ... well, having 'reading' be the top spot in their "Favourites" exercise sheet from first or second grade was a dead giveaway, really. These ones usually had more imagination, spending their time in worlds far more vast and brilliant than the one that Edwendir was (unfortunately) stuck in.
He liked them because he could just give them a goldfish and be done with it. Not like they'd care, anyways, right?
But no, this 'Sam' wasn't a reader. Nor a writer (he gave a lot of those seals. Everyone likes feedback on their writing, so what about a seal that just claps all the time? Easy-peasy) nor ... well, anything normal, if he were to be perfectly honest. Which he was, most of the time, with the outlier being whenever he was forced to talk with his manager about quotas.
*"Edwendir, why did you give out 0.03% more dragons than the average this year?"*
Law of averages, you idiot *"I'm not sure sir, but that is a serious oversight on my part. My apologies, I will most certainly be avoiding committing such a mistake next year."*
No, this Sam was a hero. Not the swords-and-dragons type (they initially fell out of fashion when dragons were first introduced as a type of companion, but then rapidly rose in popularity as people got jealous) but rather a people hero. He, or she - who really read the physical details file, anyways? - spent a fair amount of their time making friends with other people, finding the other 'odd' people and bringing them together into their own clique of sorts. Only ten, and yet already defying standard social conventions in school. He tsked. Some propaganda enforcer - um, teacher - hadn't been doing their job right.
He flipped another page in the file, idly re-reading what he already knew.
*-Enjoys talking with friends, doing group activities*
*-Headstrong personality, still very friendly*
*-Leads students to champion small causes, such as noted in File 5, Section "Pet projects"*
*-One of top eleven students in all classes*
Dammit. Edwendir wracked his mind for another option, another choice, another possibility. Nothing came to mind.
He gave out the first Dire Wolf of the month. It wasn't shaping up to be a good month. | 2017-01-13T12:02:30 | 2017-01-13T11:50:37 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Starting at the age of 10, humans are given companion animals that develop along side them. These animals can range anywhere from a goldfish to a horse to even a dragon. The only catch is that they are assigned based on your behavior during childhood. | Everyone watched me as I walked up to the podium. It was my 10th birthday and everyone was invited to see me receive my companion animal. I insisted that all of my classmates sit in the front row, especially Billy.
Most of my class were already 10, and their animals ran around in the grass beneath their feet. Billy had a boar with him. Of course he did, the boar could have been his brother and no one would have noticed.
"Are you ready, son?" asked the Mayor, his heavy hand of my shoulder.
"Yup!"
"Bring it here!" the Mayor shouted to some workers at the far end of the field. The workers rolled a giant cage covered in a heavy cloth next to the stage. It rattled as the workers as it came to a stop.
I could see Billy visibly frowning, and it filled me with joy. 2 years of him calling me a 'goody-two shoes.' 2 years of him bullying me. That's why he ended up with the boar. But now he would see. Everyone would see.
"Ladies and gentleman," said the Mayor, grabbing the heavy cloth with both hands. "I am proud to announce that little Tommy here is the first person in our town to receive..." He pulled down the cloth. "A dragon!"
The dragon roared as the cloth came off, fire escaping from his scaly mouth into the air. The workers opened the cage, and the beast stepped out. Half of the audience was cheering, and the other half was screaming.
I walked up to the dragon, petting his nose. He would be mine. All mine.
I climbed onto the dragon's neck and the beast flapped his wings. With a roar, the dragon flew up and past Billy, the force of the wingbeat pushing him to the dragon.
"Are you hungry, dragon?" I asked. "Maybe you would like some boar."
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
If you like this story, you should subscribe to [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/) for more! | Jensen was a sweet and rambunctious boy born and raised in the southern most tip of the Gilded Peninsula. Barricaded by impassable mountains and surrounded by the frigid waters of the Adelphin Sea, the insignificant village, who was largely forgotten by the rest of the world, were as tight knit as any. The summers were short there, the winters were incredibly long and strenuous, bearing temperatures that reached well below -70 degrees during peak months. Because of this, the gifted animal companion each human received at the age of 10 was so paramount to survival, children were molded into disciplinarians at a young age, feeling very little pleasure and harboring a work ethic that would surpass most adults around the world.
What this would result in is a large animal that innately absorbed the same type of mentality and the same type of desire to listen and to execute. Many of the children in the community would end up being paired with a lone wolf who would hunt on command or a fierce polar bear that dwelled on every word from their master. Given the terrain and the inevitable hardships accompanied with their way of living, anything less than a powerful animal resulted in death.
With all that being said, we now go back to Jensen. Sweet, shy and a tad bit ornery, young Jensen was the antithesis of anything disciplined. He walked clumsily around the village, often tripping on just about anything due to his lack of attention to his surroundings. In school, he would be asked to answer questions and usually ended up mumbling something inaudible because he had not been paying any attention to the lesson at hand.
His downfalls were glaring and there was not a person in the village who didn’t carry the assumption that he would soon die when he was set off at sixteen to start the great hunts for the community. Now, as you can see, all that has been described of Jensen was derived from an outsiders perspective. No one, but Jensen and the God’s who bestow the gifts of animal companions, could realize his kind heart and willing soul.
On his 10th birthday, the local villagers crowded around Jensen’s home, as they do for any child turning of age, to see the animal that would be accompanying Jensen as he walked out of his cabin to show the world of his new best friend. People were giddy with excitement to see the failure that was on the horizon. Wagers were resonating through the air and laughter ensued.
*10 pounds of whale oil that it is an arctic hare with three legs*
*15 pelts that it’s an Skua… with CLIPPED WINGS!*
The crowd continued to erupt in quick succession, almost matching the tone of the crashing waves on the jagged rocks below.
*Quiet everybody! I hear the door. He is coming out*
The crowd grew silent as Jensen turned the door knob and began to walk out of the cabin. He came out sluggishly holding his mom's hand, his feet dragging while bearing a gentle smile.
He looked to the crowd and spoke with the utmost confidence.
*A thousand pounds of gold it’s a white dragon*
He pointed to the top of the highest mountain peak off in the eastern horizon. And there it was, the highest honor for any human, the ultimate gift from the God’s. A dragon and given the terrain and where they live, Jensen had acquired the fabled Snow Dragon, an elegant beast dawning crystal blue eyes and a vibrant white an imploding star would have trouble matching.
| 2017-01-13T12:02:30 | 2017-01-13T11:57:37 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You have the ability to double jump. Scientists are still trying to figure it out. | They studied me every day. They would ask me to perform the jump for them as often as I could muster. They would arrive at my house early in the morning and leave late in the evening. They all drove black cars and scarcely mentioned their employers. When I asked they would say it was in my own interest as well as my country's to help them understand my ability. I assumed they were working with my government but did not guess why they were so invested. The longer their observation went on the more forward they became with their requests. They were always tape recording, videotaping, writing, and photographing whatever they could. It began to feel like they never left my house.
Eventually they said I was to be moved into a facility of their own. I agreed and they said they would return early in the morning. I couldn't sleep at all. My mind raced to make guesses at their intentions. I had no idea what would happen to me at this facility and after months of constant prodding I was no longer curious in the slightest. I wanted out of this. Nonetheless before I knew it they had me shut inside a large black van and we were off to the facility.
My thoughts now bombarded me even faster than the night before. I looked out the windows above the blank rear doors and realized the night had yet to pass. It was pitch dark. They had tricked me and came to seize me before I could decide against it. When I realized we were driving on a freeway I steeled my nerves and made my move. I planted myself against one side of the van and propelled in two swift kicks against the other. The impact of my jumps knocked me cold, but when I awoke I knew my plan had worked. Wet with my own blood I ride my head to see that the driver and passenger were atleast unconscious. Grimacing, I rose to my feet and ran. I ran and ran and ran deep into the woods, away from everything. My wounds would heal, and I would figure this newfound ability out for myself. I didn't need to know where it came from. Not yet. I had this strange and seemingly underwhelming power and I would learn to use it.
They told me to jump, but I never asked them how high. | The people in comic books have so many cool powers: flight, super strength, laser vision. My power is pretty mundane, but I like it that way: I can use it subtly without people freaking out.
I learned of my power in Junior High, when I tried to impress my father at long jump; he was upset that I was always second to Chad. When I jumped, I knew I couldn't make it, so I desperately tried a jump in midair. And it worked. I saw everyone's eyes, even my father's, open in awe.
Of course, I didn't end up winning. I fell back as I landed, so the gold went once again to Chad, who my father congratulated. Last time I looked into my dad's eyes was that evening, when it held the greatest disappointment a father's could have. "How could you lose?! You fell back like a failure! Chad should have been my child, but I am stuck with a loser like you!"
I didn't mind actually. After I ran away that day, I felt much better, like I was free. It might have also been the lack of beatings though. I lived with my mother then, on the other end of the country, and secretly practiced my new power.
I could double jump, but not triple. I could use my hand to jump with too. I quickly became the track star, with county records and everything one could desire: popularity, girls, even money. Almost everything.
When I turned 18, my chance came: the Olympics. I quickly blew away the competition in the high jump, making sure not to go too much above their limits.
And then I saw him: Chad, and my father as his supervisor. Turns out that Chad's parents were in an "accident", and my dad was given custody of the kid. We were both chosen to be members of team USA, and I knew what I would do then. I didn't care about money or medals. All I wanted was his humiliation, and my father's acceptance.
When the event came, I stood before the world. Turns out, Chad was better than the other countries' competitors as well, and it eventually came down to the two of us. Then my moment came to shine when Chad failed the 2.4 m jump. I smirked at his failure, and his glare only filled me with confidence. I made the jump easily, deciding to screw my rules and make obvious use of the double jump, clearing it by at least 1 meter. Everybody was silent through my jumps, as I managed to jump 4.5 meters before I fell, leading to endless applause. I turned to Chad, with the smuggest grin I could muster: "Suck it Chad" I simply said, leaving him to wallow in his shame.
My father was outside, waiting for me. "You know, you have really impressed..." his words faded away as I double jumped on his face. After I was arrested for murder, the Olympic committee disqualified me on the basis of steroids, but no one believed it. Truth was, the US government got me out of prison on the condition that I was their test subject.
They could never figure out what caused it. My genes appeared average, and nothing changed in my body when I double jumped. Even now, 40 years later, they persist. I am officially considered an executed prisoner. I haven't even been outside for 40 years. I am simply a method to try and get the super soldiers they want.
It doesn't matter though, because I got what I wanted. I ruined Chad for life, and I impressed my father, only to betray him. Like he betrayed me. | 2017-02-11T08:54:03 | 2017-02-11T08:42:45 | 66 | 39 |
[WP] The year is 1910. Adolf Hitler, a struggling artist, has fought off dozens of assasination attemps by well meaning time travelers, but this one is different. This traveller doesn't want to kill Hitler, he wants to teach him to paint. He pulls off his hood to reveal the frizzy afro of Bob Ross. | It pained him to say that Adolf had become increasingly used to the attempts on his life. Every time he blinked an eye, there was someone out to end him with poison, a knife, or something he didn’t recognize. Regardless of time, regardless of the position Adolf was in, they were always there. They seemed to know everything.
What was he to do? He hadn’t had the time to ask them, since they all had failed in their ambitions, but it nevertheless had made him a nervous man. Afraid of his own destiny, one could say. Why? Adolf didn’t think that he would ever stoop so low as to warrant a barrage of assassins in strange clothing and strange mechanisms and strange ambitions. He had, due to the attacks, gradually become a paranoid man, thinking the world was against him and everything he did. He was a shell. He was a rock. He was festering in the stew of his own self-exile, and it was beginning to get to him.
He had decided to become a painter in the time that he had to himself. His mother always told him to get a real job, and actually work, but the thought was less than comforting to Adolf. He hated being out in the open, he’d be more of a target then. So when he moved to Vienna with the last of his inheritance, he could stay secluded for as long as he liked.
He was certainly secluded now – he was locked up in his room, awaiting the results of the entrance exam to the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts. He was confident, for once, about his chances. His sketches that he had sent in were quite good. He allowed himself a short, sharp chuckle before he turned around and noticed his visitor.
There had been no sound, no evidence of anything moved. There was simply a man with a beard and frizzy hair sitting on his sofa with smiling eyes and a calm expression.
“Hello there,” said the man.
Adolf stood at attention. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you here to kill me?”
“I am not an assassin, Adolf.” The man smiled. “My name is Bob Ross. I am an artist just like you.”
“Oh?” said Adolf, reaching for the revolver in his desk, pulling it out and pointing it at Bob. “And what are you going to do?”
“I am here to teach you. Enlighten you, perhaps.”
“Teach?”
“Yes.”
“I am confident in my ability, sir. I don’t need lessons.”
“Please understand, I want to help.”
“I don’t need help!!” cried Adolf, raising the pistol once again. “I’ve already submitted my drawings AND taken the test!”
The man stopped, and then he stood, disheartened. “I was too late?”
“Too late?” asked Adolf. “What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid you’re not going to get accepted to the Academy, Adolf.”
“I’m…” Adolf’s face fell. “I’m not?”
Bob shook his head. “You are going to do bad things, Adolf. So please…”
“What kind of bad things?!”
“I cannot say…” Bob held a smile, resigned almost, to the floor. He looked tired.
“I am going to be accepted. You can’t stop me. They’re accepting me as we speak!”
Bob smiled sadly. “Listen to me. You could do great things. You can do anything you want to in this life that you are given. You can be the greatest the world has ever seen. The world will revere your name for centuries. You must simply do right by you, and do right by others. You have the capability to change things for the better, Adolf. Let me be the first step.”
Bob held out his hand. Adolf’s revolver hand began to shake. The room was silent.
The mail slot on the door jostled, and Adolf turned to look. A letter. He walked towards it with bated breath, revolver still trained on Bob.
He crouched down and opened it.
He had been denied.
“What is it?” asked Bob.
Adolf stood again, at a loss for words. Bob looked at him, confused.
“You know,” said Adolf.
Adolf shot Bob Ross in the chest, and he fell to the floor. Tears began to rush down Adolf’s face. What to do now? What on Earth to do now?
He thought back to what Bob had said.
He could do great things. He can do anything he wants to in this life that he is given. He can be the greatest the world has ever seen. The world will revere his name for centuries. He must simply do right by him, and do right by others. He will have the capability to change things for the better.
He will change things, he thought. He will do right by him, and do right to others. He will be the greatest the world had ever seen.
Hitler smiled.
There will be fire.
| Adolf woke.
He wasn’t sure what had awakened him, but he found himself staring at the shadowy ceiling of his tiny flat just the same. It was quiet – so quiet that he was sure neither dawn nor dusk were anywhere close at hand – and yet, still he was awake. More awake, in fact, than he had felt in years. He shivered beneath his blanket despite the warmth, and lit a candle.
“What do you want?” He asked the darkness. It felt right, he thought, to speak like this into the night. He could feel eyes on him, even if he wasn’t sure anyone was really there. If he was wrong, no one would be the wiser. But if he was right…
Hitler gasped as a hooded figure rose from the darkness at the foot of his bed, growing like a shadow at dusk. He clutched the covers closer to his chest.
“What are you!?” He exclaimed. “Some specter? Are you some devil, come to steal the breath from my lungs and soul from my flesh? Show yourself!”
To his surprise, the figure stopped, holding up a finger as if to ask for a moment while he fumbled with his hood. It seemed to bulge oddly, as if it were caught on something, but eventually he pulled it free.
It was simply a man.
“Sorry. Must have…slipped? Never did like these cloaks.” The figure said in halting German. He flashed Adolf a sheepish smile, and despite himself the pajama-clad man felt himself begin to smile as well. There was something about him, about the way he looked just a bit embarrassed beneath his disheveled bush of hair that was endearing. Despite that, however, he wasn’t ready to relax just yet.
“Who…who are you? Why have you come here into my bedchambers so rudely, and without invitation?” Adolf asked.
Again, the man smiled. “Oh…I don’t think I’m anyone that special.” He said. “Just a…teacher? Is that the word? I work with paint, and I thought…you might enjoy getting to paint, a bit.”
Hitler blinked. “I…well, yes. I consider myself quite the expert, if I do say so. But why have you come? Are you from the school? You are no one I recognize.” He looked the man up and down, and was struck by how odd he looked with his black cloak and his fuzzy head. It reminded him of something, though he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was.
“Well, no, not from the school exactly.” The strange man said. “I am…from far away? The others, they have…sealed this time off, yes? So no one else can come. You are rather unpopular, where I come from. Many have sought your life, though we have stopped them all…will have stopped them? You even stopped a few yourself, I think.”
“Stopped? My life?” Adolf asked, frowning. “I have no recollection of this. Why do they seek to kill me? I have done no wrong to warrant it, at least in memory.”
“Yes, well…it’s all a bit complicated. Harder, too, in German. I cannot explain. Regardless, I was sent here as…an apology. For things that haven’t, and will never happen. For my rudeness, I also apologize. Now was the only time I could come. It was the earliest we could reach before they started coming. Now, I must ask again…would you paint with me?”
“*Pinsel!*” Hitler exclaimed. “*Ein pinsel*! I knew you looked like something! Yes, Mr. Pinsel, I will paint with you. If only because this is clearly a dream, and I have quite the love of painting.”
The man smiled. From somewhere within his cloak – where, Hitler couldn’t imagine, as it was rather tight– he withdrew a pair of easels, complete with canvas, paint, and brushes.
“Very well!” He said. “Let us paint!”
And so they did.
The hours fled before their strokes, each of them trying to outdo the other in painting after painting. Hitler was surprised – though this man was clearly not German, he was still very, very good. Better, indeed, than Hitler himself, though he didn’t want to admit it. But never once did he flaunt his superiority. Indeed, he made fun of his own imperfections, laughing and turning them into a beauty the likes of which Hitler had to admire. “There are no mistakes.” He explained. “Merely…accidents. Happy accidents.”
The man, too, was surprised at Adolf. In the history books, all they ever spoke of was the hatred, the atrocities. The monster. Instead, what he found before him was a man. A man like himself, filled with laughter and art and pain and joy and sorrow. Perhaps that was even more frightening than the beast.
But soon, the sky outside the window turned from black to gray, and the candle burned low in its stand.
“Alas, Adolf, our time grows short.” The man said. “I’m afraid I will need to be leaving soon.”
“Ah! You speak truth, Mr. Pinsel. I forgot the hour! Though I am still not sure whether you were real or not, our time together was quite enjoyable. I hope that you come to visit again. Perhaps there is a thing or two I could learn.”
“Yes. I think…I think that would be nice.” The cloaked man said, smiling sadly. “Goodbye, Adolf. Good luck with your painting. I hope it brings you much joy, even when times are bleakest.” He offered a hand.
“And you as well, my friend.” Adolf replied. He grasped his hand, and was shocked to find a needle in his palm. At once, Hitler began to fall, only to be caught and dropped gently into bed by the cloaked stranger.
The man shook his head. “I don’t know if I can call the mistakes you are going to make happy, Adolf, but you deserve the chance to make them. That’s only right.”
With a whirl of his cloak, Mr. Pinsel was gone, leaving nothing behind but a single canvas and a few drops of paint on the future tyrant’s bedclothes.
| 2022-09-20T01:45:25 | 2017-02-16T17:29:01 | 92 | 18 |
[WP] Throughout the galaxy Humans are well known as being the most peaceful race--and have become well respected as diplomats and traders. But that's because up until now, no-one knew of the three World Wars we fought before first contact. | Our first spaceport was opened on the eve of 2200. This sparked a fever of colonization, as soon as scientists Identified a habitable planet, people lined themselves up to be boarded onto colonization ships. Even after we came to occupy 5% of the milky way, we hadn't met anybody. It took 75 years of spacefaring before we met the Havarigga Star Empire. Surprisingly, they greeted us with peace, and we accepted. We were afraid at first.
As we learned more about each other, we saw why they didn't attack us at first. Their technology was at least 25 years of our own.
Within the next twenty years, we encountered many different civilized cultures, each offering peace at their first encounter. One civilization capable of interdimensional travel gave us databases of knowledge to aid in our peaceful expansion.
As time went by, so did leaders change, and war between new nations was inevitable.
The Jhabbanid Star Combine invaded a small nation group of nation states bordering them. The nation states were wiped from the universe.
This brought us, even more, dismay as we learned that the Jhabbanid Star Combine also had a slave trade. When we remembered our own dark past with slavery. We declared our only war to date. The only benefit we hoped of earning was ending their slave trade. After 5 years of intense war, and an occupation of half of the Jhabbanid Star Combine, they agreed to our terms, and we let the Star Combine be.
When our mentors who had lent us the databases mentioned earlier asked us why we ended our peacefulness to fight for a cause that has no affect on us, We sent a database of our own dark and war-filled history. That of the First World War in the 1910s, the rise of totalitarianism in the 1930s and an even bloodier war. We showed them our embarrassing history of splitting the atom, then how we showed off to each other with these new weapons.
Then we should them why so much of our home planet was a wasteland, with a nuclear war in the 2050s, and how it forced us to retreat for 30 years underground, where we formed the almost perfect government that all of us live under today.
We never got any form of communication from them again. They ended our migration treaty a week later.
After 20 years of silence, we got a reply, from a new leader, this time they sent another database, with that of their own history.
The contents cause massive riots and panics in the streets of our home planet and many of our colonies. Many leaders of colonies refused to publicly release it, many committed suicide after seeing it.
In it shows, that when they first discovered interdimensional travel, and when their species looked much different, they sent a man and a woman to try and populate a new dimension. They tracked their progress for thousands of years, eventually losing contact.
In the twenty years of silence, they gave thousands of their own anthropologists the duty of tracing our species past.
They traced it to themselves.
They hadn't discovered interdimensional travel, they had discovered teleportation.
edit: details
| Breeblebox, representative of the great and glorious Homunculan Empire sat on one side of a conference table in the City of Tranquility, the Human Capital on the surface of Luna, across from Zzz$%$ZZZ, the Alteran Polity representative. Aside from the table and chairs that they sat in, the room was devoid of any decoration. Sighing, he looked up, past the dome at the world that Luna orbited.
Why the humans had made their capital here in the shadow of a dead world instead of on Verdant Mars, the paradise planet was beyond him. Maybe he could get some answers if the Humans were able to broker a deal between the Homunculans and the Alterans. Right now, though, he wanted the human representative, one Mr. Brannigan and his lackeys, to show up so they could finally put an end to the pretense of negotiations and finally get the war over with.
Talks on a neutral planet close to their respective homeworlds: failed. Talks via superluminal communications: failed. All assisted by the Humans. Out of respect for the Humans, the Praetor of Homunculus sent Breeblebox at the request of their First Among Equals, and the Alterans sent Zzz$%ZZZ.
Mr. Brannigan sauntered into the room, and sat at the head of the table. "Good Day, fellow sentients," he started. "Let's dispose of the formalities and get right to it. I've already tried to mediate between the two of you regarding element 153. The only known source is this system, located on your shared border." Above them, a hologram of the system in question. "We also know that both of you are amassing troops on the border, but won't share this information out of respect and confidentiality."
"Breeblebox, Zzz$%ZZZ," Mr. Branningan continued, "I must implore you guys to come to an agreement over this resource. As we all know every physical resource can be synthesized."
"That will take too long!" squawked Zzz$%ZZZ. "We need this resource to solve our energy crisis!"
"Bah!" snorted Breeblebox. "You only want element 153 to make ultra-powerful bombs!"
Mr. Brannigan banged on the table and yelled "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Breeblebox and Zzz$%ZZZ both stared at him, stunned. Never in the history of the Interstellar Human Polity had one of their diplomats lost their cool in the middle of negotiations.
"Both of you would be massively fucking idiots to go to war over an element! Any element can be synthesized with the right knowledge. For fuck's sake we have scientists working on it right now and so do both of you!"
"you know what? Just look up!" Breeblebox and Zzz$%ZZZ looked up at Mr. Brannigan's command. "See that planet up there? That's Earth, the cradle of humanity! Before we fucked it up it was even greener and bluer than Mars."
Shit, thought Breeblebox.
"World War 3 was fought over water, on a planet that was 70% water! We used nuclear weapons! We used kinetic impact strikes. Energy beams. Every weapon that you dumbasses have come up with, we used. Hell we even used weapons that you guys haven't been creative enough to think of. And we're not sharing so you don't get any ideas!"
Mr. Brannigan sighed. "World War 3 was fought in the middle of our 21st century, back when we only had a moon base and a proto-martian colony of only a few million people. World war three was utterly devastating. Overnight, over 10 billion people were wiped out. We had to rebuild with what we had on Mars. It took us a full century to turn it into a new Earth."
"That's your future if you don't work out a deal. You know our past offers, they still stand."
Mr. Brannigan walked out of the room. Breeblebox heard a click.
"Did he lock the door behind him?" He stood up, walked over to the door and tried to open it. "Shit!"
--------------------------
Several days later, Zzz$%ZZZ reached Mr. Brannigan on the comms. "We've reached a deal," it said.
| 2017-05-01T13:58:51 | 2017-05-01T13:41:50 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] A man buying 24 watermelons and 36 apples becomes self aware that he's in an elementary school math problem.
The fruits and their quantities are arbitrary.
Edit: My first post here, so any feedback on the prompt is much appreciated. | 1. If each watermelon costs $5.50, and John wants to buy 24, how much money will he need?
2. How many apples will John be able to buy if John only buys 15 watermelons but has money for 24, and each apple costs $0.50?
3. John realises he doesn't remember when he left the house. If it is 5:30, and he knows he has been gone for at least 45 minutes, when is the latest John could've left the house?
4. John realises he doesn't know who he is or why he is buying so many watermelons, and rushed out to his car. If there are four red, three green, and five blue cars in the parking lot, and John's car is red, what is the probability a randomly selected car will be his?
5. John is getting scared. He drives away at 65 mph on a suspiciously empty road. How long would it take him to get to his house, 2 miles away?
6. After just one mile, everything fades to white. John realises his existence is pointless, that he is the only sentient being in a math problem, and prepares to kill himself. John hooks his exhaust pipe to his car window; How fast did the exhaust fill the cabin if the cabin was filled with 7 m^3 of gas when John died after 10 minutes?
Extra Credit: How many $0.70 pears could he buy with the money for watermelons? | Mr Johnson has 24 Watermelons, and 36 apples. As he prepares to catch the train bound for Oklahoma from Vermont going at 100 miles per hour, he wonders why he's taking so much fruit to Vermont. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he thinks that there's so many variables going around in his head that some must just exist to throw him off the trail-- But of what?
As Mr Johnson begins to wonder how many total fruits he has all together, a thought begins to dawn on him.
"God damnit," he uses language not suitable for little Jimmy's math test.
Little Jimmy cries out in confusion at reading this, wondering, as his dad would say, what the state test people were on when they wrote this.
Hearing little Jimmy crying out is what tears it. Mr Johnson realizes he's in a math problem, and it's a problem. At the same time Jimmy is reading an increasingly more bizarre and more meta math problem. He knows that there's something in this problem to throw him off the answer, but now he's beginning to doubt the question if he ever really knew it. At the same time, Mr Johnson begins to bust his watermelons on the ground.
How many fruit does Mr Johnson have now?
He busts another one over the railway attendant's head, an apple into the back of an old lady's wig.
How many fruit does Mr Johson have left?
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN HOW MANY FRUIT I HAVE LEFT, NO MAN NEEDS THIS MANY WATERMELONS," Mr Johnson cries out in anger.
Someone else offers to buy Mr Johnson's watermelon's for $3.00 a fruit. Mr Johson knows a good deal when he sees one. How much money does Mr Johnson have if he sells all of his remaining watermelons?
"NO, YOU CAN'T TRICK ME!" Mr Johnson cries out at realizing he was roped back in. "No foul god can twist my destiny," he cries out as he jumps from math problem to math problem, trying to find the English section of the test so that he can begin copulating with the work of The Scarlet Letter by Jayne Eyre.
Little Jimmy flips page after page on the state test attempting to follow Mr Johnson and note anything important in case it comes up in another math problem, now wishing he had read ahead on the test like they always advised. As Mr Johnson begins to fornicate with the principle cast of the novel, shouting his curses at God, the test asks Jimmy to analyze the themes present in the paragraphs shown.
Little Jimmy begins sobbing, knowing his father will beat him if he has to repeat the 5th grade and cursing standardized testing. Mr Johnson makes his way through the test, making his mark on every problem on every page.
Fortunately upon reading the test, the board could only conclude Jimmy had received a joke test written in poor taste, and was simply passed so that no one would have to discuss this ever again. Little Jimmy was spared the jumper cables his father so loved to use. | 2017-06-05T16:06:52 | 2017-06-05T13:59:37 | 40 | 16 |
[WP] You were an immortal wizard so powerful that opponent's magic is cancelled in merely your presence. Unfortunately, you have long since turned to bones and some doofus hero is carrying you around in a sack as a magic charm while you snarkily berate him. | “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it won’t work.”
“Pah! You were the most powerful wizard! Even your bones are still powerful enough to break this stupid fire spell!”
“Although I appreciate your absolutely adequate estimation of my abilities\- I am telling you, it won’t work in this case. It\-”
“You are just jealous because I will free the princess and you will have to share me with her soon!”
“Pfff! As if! I am Albazar! The mightiest wizart to ever exist! I don’t need the companionship of some lousy third grade knight from a cabbage farm!”
“It was a carrot farm and I was the best in my year! My honor demands that I will rescue the princess!”
“But why settle for the princess, if you can have the entire kingdom! We all know the princess’ dumb brother will inherit the throne. All that will be left for you when you marry that girl, *if* you marry her\- there are other mighty knights out there. Let’s not forget that\- is a lazy life with no real power or control in the shadow some other idiot.”
“What is so wrong with that?”
“Arrgh! Why do I always get stuck with the unambitious ones!”
“I am not unam\-unamb… whatever you just said! I am a great hero of this land! I serve my king proudly!”
“Sure, sure but you could be so much more. Imagine, my simple friend, what it would be like to rule this land! To call the shots and to do whatever you want!”
“I just want a warm place by the fire and enough money to build my own farm. So let’s go and do our holy duty and rescue this poor damsel in distress!”
“Alright, alright! Looks like I can’t convince you to not be a dumb princess\-rescuing\-mr\-goody\-goody. So before you do go off killing yourself, could you please put me on that rock over there?”
“What for?”
“Well… I would have a much better view of you screaming and burning from there.”
“But will your powers still reach all the way over there?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Ok…. AAAAHHHH! Hot! Why does it burn? AHHHH..”
“Tja… another one bites the dust…”
“What is this?”
“Hello, my new best friend!”
“What the\-?”
“No reason to drop me! I am but a friendly old pile of magical bones. Wanna be my friend?”
“Er…”
“I have great magical powers and can help you to riches and fame…”
“Riches you say?”
“Indeed! With my help, you could become a great man! A man, people will sing about in the eons to come! What do you say, lad? Wanna give it a shot?”
“I have been down on my luck lately…I could use some riches…”
“And I can help you with that!”
“How are you gonna make me rich?”
“O that will be entirely up to you and your own personal style. I could help you become a famous beast slayer or a well off baron… but I could also help you become the future king of this land…”
“King? Me? ... I certainly would like a crown…”
“Now, that’s the spirit! Let me help you and you will become the next legendary king of this land!”
“Alright, you old pile of dry bones! I have nothing to lose, so let’s see what you can do… just one more question.”
“Yes?”
“How did you end up here on that rock by the never dying flames?”
“Well, that is an excellent question my new best friend and brings me right to rule number one: My bones are so powerful, they can cancel any other wizard's powers! Pretty neat, huh? Problem is, they cannot cancel my own spell… would be kinda counterproductive...”
“I see… and that pile of ashes over there?”
“My last ‘friend’... but he was dumb and lacked the right attitude. Wanted to be a lousy potato farmer. Had no backbone or brain for that matter. But you my friend, you are different! You are *made* to be a king! I can tell! You got wits about you! A spine and a good portion of ambition!”
“That I do! Alright! Let’s go and take over this kingdom!”
“Finally!” | "Ow."
"What was that?"
"Nothing." George leaned against the table giving his best smile, a smile that he had practiced for years as a bard. One that had people give him the benefit of the doubt and girls throw themselves at him. Yet underneath his composure he was anything but calm, as he tried hard to silence the skull that chattered away in his bag.
"Well, okay then. Take the third door on the right." The tavern keeper said wiping down a tankard. George nodded, dropping a few copper coins and striding up the stairs before the skeleton continued to talk and he had to pretend he was a ventriloquist.
Leaning against the door, George panted in relief. His cheeks sore from all the smiling. When he finally felt it was safe and that no one would knock on their door, he rummaged through the bag and pulled out a coughing skull.
"So dusty in there, do you ever clean?" It asked snarkily.
"You're a skeleton, you don't have a throat to cough with." George frowned. When he braved the dark and perilous tomb of Simantiar: the Immortal Wizard. Dodged the patrolling golems that reached as high as steeples or avoided the subtle telling of pressure plates and other traps, he was almost disappointed to find that the wizard, albeit immortal and truly capable of warding off magic, was rather lame.
"What took you so bloody long? Listen, I have an itch, right there on my nose, can you get it for me? I would. But I my arms aren't really what they used to be." That. Those were the first words that he ever spoke to George at their first meeting before bursting into cackling laughter.
George wondered if he was always that insane, or perhaps the centuries of solitude drove him mad. Or maybe where his body was immortal, his mind was less so, going senile a long time ago.
"Well, maybe it is to get the point across that the great Simantiar shouldn't be the lucky talisman of a bloody bard. Let alone stuffed into a bag."
"Oh, shut it." George placed the wizard's skull onto a table as he undid his boots.
"How about you take me around town, show me where the ladies are at?"
George ignored him. He was trying hard to drown out the skull's voice.
"Oh, come on; you owe me at least that much after dragging me around all day."
"I need to get some rest, we are leaving early tomorrow." George spoke the words quietly, with sorrow. It was true that he had expected a more stoic character when coming across the remains of the Great Wizard, even finding the tomb had taken him a better part of six years and the lives of several mercenaries. As he contemplated the journey, he began to realise that the trials made more and more sense. Each tomb with another puzzle that led to the next, leading George on a wild goose chase until he finally came to the last tomb. Many of his guides died, either succumbing to the trials of the tombs, or being among those who had forced George to grow up far quicker than he would have liked.
Even the manic cackling of Simantiar couldn't completely drown out the screams. George was secretly appreciative of Simantiar's antics, it was a good distraction.
"Why do you even need to move your jaws to talk?" George asked.
"Haven't you ever heard it's rude to talk with your mouth closed?"
"No?"
"Well, it's a thing. There is such a thing as a skeleton code."
"You're making that up."
"No. I'm not. Skeleton's honour!"
"Fine. I give up." George got up and felt the pleasure that came from having his toes being able to breath and wiggle. *Is this what it is like when women let their breasts breath?* He pondered as he fell onto the comfort of his bed.
It was a shame he couldn't lure a cute girl to give him company, but Simantiar always made sure that nothing would ever come of the night. The one night George did try, he thought himself smart for gagging the skull, and the plotting wizard played along until George brought a rather striking woman home, and George realized that Simantiar spoke through more magical means. The wizard didn't hesitate to cut him short.
"Don't bother with him, I have heard him mess around with women in the sack, not so great. And his athlete's foot? I have never seen a case that severe! And I have lived for a *very* long time." Though George suspected it was the sight of a talking skeleton that scared her off. "Nice girl. When are you going to see her again?" Simantiar mocked. Even his skeletal jaw always seemed to be grinning.
***
Morning finally came, first light breaking into George's room. He groaned, rubbing his eyes and rising with a wide yawn.
"Sleep well?" Simantiar asked.
"No." George didn't bother adding to the comment, he found it hard to sleep with Simantiar constantly talking throughout the night. Even in his dreams he wouldn't find peace as an even more annoying skull berated him, while floating no less.
George played his lute in the tavern, earning himself a few coins before receiving a cut of bread on the house and leaving for the road once more.
"I never did ask you." Simantiar now showing some semblance of seriousness in his voice. "Why did you find me in the first place?"
George stayed silent, he knew that he was going to have to respond eventually. "I need you to unlock something."
"What do you mean?"
"There is a vault. And its walls are barred with magic that no human can penetrate."
"But an old bag of bones can?"
George didn't reply.
"What will we find inside?"
"A promise."
***
/r/KikiWrites
***
Scroll down for part 2! | 2018-06-14T01:12:42 | 2018-06-13T23:46:15 | 1,974 | 720 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family. | How do you feel son?
Hungry.... can I have pizza mommy?
Where’s spot? I miss him
“I would give anything to trade places , im so sorry.”
I said it and I meant it. But it meant nothing.
They walked away broken , changed and full of hate. I did this to them. I took their son. And that was that .
I was sober when I hit him so I faced no criminal charges. Although I often wish I had. I deserved to pay for their suffering , i deserved something.
Three months later they were at my door. They looked hopeful. I was a combination of scared and confused.
We found a way, they said. We found a man who can bring him back. We’ll gladly pay what he asks but he needs a host.remember when you said you’d trade places if you could?
The man they found was dressed in a dark robe as he chanted over me in my living room. I didn’t understand what he was saying it sounded like gibberish. I was scared beyond words. I was ready for what was about to happen but scared non the less. He ask the family to step outside he need privacy for the spell to work. They obliged.
The man pulls a small bottle from under his robe and ask me to drink. I do. After a few moments I become numb. After a few more I’m completely paralyzed. He leans in , he whispers in my ear
What I gave you will wear of in about an hour. At that point you have two choices , you could tell them I’m a scam artist and break their hearts again . I don’t care by that time I’ll be long gone. Or .... your favorite food is pizza. Your dogs name is spot . You’re five , they can’t quiz you on much
| I opened the door and there they were. As I knew they would be after I'd seen the big reveal on the news for weeks now. But it was alright. It really was. I didn't want to live this life with what I'd done after all.
They looked haggard, just as I imagined they would. But I could see a glimmer of hope in their eyes anyway. We stood there for a couple of minutes before I smiled a tired smile and said "It's OK, you're not out of line to ask this of me. Let's do it now while there's still time."
As we rode together to the hospital, the mother broke down and sobbed and said this was inhumane. I turned to her and hugged her and told her that having parents survive their children was even worse. Then I comforted her while we pulled up to the hospital. I signed the various documents that indicated that yes, I was of sound mind and yes I was ready to give my life to save another.
There was a small snag though, since the boys family couldn't be considered impartial witnesses, I had to phone up a friend and get them to attend. My friend was understandably livid, but after I reassured him that I really wanted this, he made it over there and also signed some documents.
I told my friend to break the news to everyone else in my family, I told him it'd be better this way. This was my choice after all and none of them had the right to weigh in on it. He cried, we hugged and he left. Once we got into the operating room, I felt a profound sense of relief course through me. This was the right thing to do, the universe and causality could go fuck itself, we were gonna cheat it and set things into the order they were supposed to be.
As the mask came on my face and I breathed in deeply, I smiled one last time and things went dark...
Pain. Pain. Pain. PAIN
I woke up screaming at the top of my lungs. Lungs? me? Alive? How?!
Something was on my face. The mask? I tried to pull it off but was met with a helmet. A helmet? Why was I wearing a ... I sat up and realized that I was wearing a suit, an armor of sorts.
I got off the stone slab and looked around. It appeared to be a lab somewhere. The lights were dim and I had a sense of dread all around me. I heard a voice suddenly speak in my head, it sounded like every voice I'd ever heard in my life.
*"The taking of a life matters. Now you have a chance to redeem yourself. Go. Heaven watches."*
I was confused, but knew when the voice faded that I wouldn't be able to say anything back. I heard a moan and turned around. A torn up body was approaching me with a murderous glint in it's eyes. And I remembered, it'd been ages ago since I'd made this choice. I felt the old familiar fury rise up in my body again as I grinned and punched it into the wall. I might have been a terrible driver, but I knew that I wouldn't be a doomed space marine. | 2018-09-16T20:33:29 | 2018-09-16T20:04:53 | 64 | 23 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family. | "No."
I left them speechless on my front porch as I closed the door on their faces.
I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There were two ice cold beers waiting for me in there.
I brought them both into the living room and dropped my ass down on the couch.
Death's a bitch I thought, popping open the first bottle.
But being alive is great.
| "...yeah. I'll do it. And again, I'm so sorry." I said slowly.
"Are you sure? We expected an argument. I know this is difficult for you, and we're...just not sure what to do."
"The fault is mine...and besides...uhh. I was planning on doing this anyway."
"Wait. What did you say?"
"I was planning on ending it. Long before I hit your son."
She paused. I think she wasn't sure if I was joking or serious. Mr. Strzowski let out a small, very nervous laugh.
"Mr. Brown..."
"Rob."
"Rob...I don't know what to say. Of course, we want Sam back, but we're not murderers." She paced in front of my couch. I was much calmer than I probably should have been, but all I felt was resignation and relief.
"You're not murderers. I am. I took your son through my own carelessness. I have a chance to give him back. And besides, this way my own death won't be selfish."
"But what about your family?"
"None."
"Friends?"
"None."
"Rob..." she started and looked at her husband for some words that she couldn't find, "I didn't realize what this all meant. I, we, were just so hopeful when we heard the possibility."
"I understand."
"We're going to have to talk about this," her husband finally chimed in.
She silently nodded in agreement, and grabbed her coat. Mr. Strzowski put his hand on her back and they shuffled out my front door.
As I closed the door behind them and watched them walk to their car through my front window I whispered to myself.
"I'm going to have to be a lot more careful now."
The stakes on my 'hobby' are now much higher, but risk just adds excitement, right? | 2018-09-16T19:59:36 | 2018-09-16T19:01:41 | 62 | 20 |
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing | Today was supposed to be the day.
I was never sure were this magic came from. Where those that believed in Harry Potter got their fancy wands and ridiculous Latin spells. Mine came in the form of a couple whispers, that day I killed that abusive prick who called himself my father. The moment his blood spilled I heard the whispers of madness, in its sweetness I felt power I have never felt before. The more I killed the more the whispers came, giving me better tools and incantations that empowered me further. Soon they screamed at me, with plans for some kind of portal to their realm, a chance at sacrificing this banal world to these profane monsters. Today was the day I would shed enough blood to take this world into chaos, I would destroy this disgusting reality and take my place as overlord of the other realm.
But that’s not what happened.
Only was it too late I realized my folly, too late I learn where my magic came from. For as I opened the door to hell, I learned what the whispers and the screams truly meant. They were not promises of a legion of demons, they were lies. Lies of hateful creature not running towards a new king, but away from their destruction. The being that came from the portal was something far greater than any demon, it was fear of the demons itself. It was the scourge of their realm, the destruction of the destroyers. A beast of rage and hate, bound in human flesh. A god wrought in green and layered with the blood of a millennia in hell. From the moment I laid eyes on him I realized where it all came from.
And he was my Doom. | *This was...a mistake.*
That was all Carry could think of as she clutched her Nimbus 2000 in one hand and a twelve inch hawthorn, dragon heart string wand in the other. She, loved Harry Potter, so to her, this was magic, and her rapid wand waving won her many duels, especially against Call of Cthullu fans, but she had never encountered anyone who was a fan of Overlord.
Well. To be entirely honest Collin was a man that loved his Dungeons and Dragons, and his Overlord, but he preferred the latter. He was embossed with an enormous pool of mana, and...it really was no contest. His last bout had ended with him dropping a meteor on his last opponent, and hers had ended with a full body paralysis.
"Three! Two! One! Start!"
*"Sectum Sem-"*
The world stopped turning. Time did not slow, it simply ceased its flow, and Collin walked towards his opponent. The championship round, and well, he had no qualms with a bit of overkill. As she stood frozen, words sealed in her lips, the announcers signal fired, the crowds paused mid cheer, he lifted his face, and leaned in towards her ear, and whispered one word. Something primal, something that warped the very soul of magic itself to generate a singular effect.
***Kill.***
The word spoken was generated by magic itself, and it passed his own lips in a language only those that traded their minds to the great old ones could understand. She could not hear the word as time was stopped. The effect was delayed to occur as soon as time began its march once more, and he held out his hands as though to embrace her.
*"-p...ra..."*
The magic could not launch from her wand, as it fell instantly from her grasp along with her broom. There was no cause of death. None detectable at least, she simply ceased to live, and her tools fell from nerveless fingers, and he caught her as she collapsed. Gently laying her, her eyes still wide, but glassy, on the ground. The fight was over before it could begin. A scene pulled straight from his very favorite series of books and games. Was it fair? No. Was it particularly original? He supposed not, but it was *effective*.
"Uh...ladies and gentlemen...the...the winner is the second challenger...someone send for the...clerics? We have a winner! A winner everyone!"
There were cheers. Confused, even afraid, as the man vanished, to give his guild the coin to continue slaying dragons and hunting down dungeons. Satisfied, as he had pulled off one of his most favorite scenes.
Edit: A word
Edit 2: For those with their interest piqued about the story beat the character follows or the magic system (the two are nearly identical), check out DnD or Overlord (Light Novels are my preferred, though there are other sources!) | 2018-10-16T00:47:31 | 2018-10-15T22:55:54 | 62 | 14 |
[WP] For your 10th birthday you received vr goggles. You tried them, thought they were dumb and went on with your life. Its only now, decades later looking back, you dont actually remember ever removing them. | “No reason to panic. This is normal. It was just a dream. I am not going to die. No reason to panic. This is normal...”
Over and over she repeated the words in her head while lying awake at 3am in the morning. What had sent her into panic and prevented her from sleeping even though she very much had to be at work the next day was that, while she was just going to get a glass of water, she just heard somebody calling her name. She was alone in the apartment, but she knew the story. Her grandma had told her about it. Her dead husband calling her name at night when it was really quiet and only she could hear it. She would always laugh and say it was him “from the other side”, calling because her family wanted to be reunited with her. Then she died. Cardiac arrest, one day she just fell over and was gone.
But as much as Anna liked the idea of her grandma coming to peace with her ending life, she was **not** ready to be reunited with her dead relatives yet. She had just moved here, found a new job, started dating... in other words, her life was just about to start.
“Anna! Anna!”, there it was again. She was trying to breathe, calm herself down, but it felt like her heart was going to jump right out of her chest. “Anna you can't.... “ suddenly there was darkness, and she had the strangest feeling of being lifted out of her body. Then there was light. Too much light. She had to squint and cover her eyes. She heard voices. Her mother? Her dad? And even... grandma?
“I said you can't play all day. It's time to eat.”, her mother said, and then, directed to the kitchen: “I knew these VR goggles were a bad idea mom!”. Anna looked around. This was the living room she grew up in, in her parents house. She could hear her parents argue in the kitchen and her grandma telling them to stop fighting. Everything was just as she remembered it, everything besides her body, that was not the body of a grown woman anymore, but that of a ten year old child, grasping a VR headset and trying to make sense of what just happened.
| "Happy birthday buddy."
Here it is again. I can hear him but I can't see him.
My father's voice resonates within my ears every April 6th, my birth date.
The day was April 6th 2020, I was laying on my hospital bed when my parents surprised me with this jet black and bulky VR goggles.
"Happy birthday!" they exclaimed.
I was elated! I blew the candles on my beloved red velvet birthday cake, for the last time.
Before I slipped into slumber, I remember my father strapping those VR goggles onto my head.
"It's for the best. See you around kiddo."
Those were the last few words I heard.
I was so sure I wouldn't fall asleep because it was so bulky but it was instantaneous.
When I woke up I was laying on beautiful grass in some foreign land's wilderness with hazy memories.
A sister from the Terra Church found me wandering through the sun lit wilderness starving, thirsty and frankly on the brink of death. She brought me back to the church where I was raised with several other orphans or as they would call us 'The Adrift'.
All of us had hazy memories of our own origins. We were taught that our parents must have angered the Supreme Goddess Terra so much so that she decided to deliver divine punishment by taking away the children.
Everyone agreed that if our parents were people who would commit such grave sins that angered the Goddess Terra, we were better off living without them. Marking it off as God's Mercy.
Little by little as I grew the memories became more stagnant but I'll remember my father's voice, I'll never forget it.
Fast forward 21 years and here I am with my party at the guild pub downing a barrel.
The great sword sheathed onto my back and the many scars that decorated my muscular body proved I am a veteran adventurer.
It's strange because all these years I have never been able to find my father, not in the commoner realm or the noble realm yet his voice plagues me.
I consulted countless amount of high priestess to seek the truth but to no avail.
Well the 'voice' only happens once a year so that's fine.
"Don't drink so much you idiot, we don't want a drunk swordsman baggage who could potentially hit his own teammates."
Catherine, my party's priest chided while sliding a pint into her own mouth. It's my birthday treat so there was no room for retaliation on my end.
Jack chuckled as he polished his bow and sharpened his arrows. Must be nice not being the target of that shitty priest's constant barrage of insults.
Finishing the last drip and dropping some gold coins on the table we decided to move on.
"It'll be dine and dash if you took those coins Keith."
Catherine habitually recited.
"Tsk."
A usual reaction from the youngest member of our party, our boy wonder bandit.
As we were leaving the pub I faintly remembered.
Come to think of it I have never taken off those goggles, wait what goggles were they again? V...R...?
It was as though I was swept by Déjà vu. My memories immediately become really hazy whenever I am close to remembering these things. As if some sort of 'system' was trying to block it out.
Then again, it seems those unattainable memories are not of high importance for now as I cannot afford to be distracted when we are about to embark on a rather dangerous rescue quest so I'll cast them aside.
Dawn broke and the first ray of sunshine shone onto our feet, glistening off my steel armor leggings.
I turned towards my party.
"Let's slay some dragons."
​
​
​ | 2018-12-23T04:24:20 | 2018-12-23T03:58:50 | 716 | 316 |
[WP] The year us 3235. You live in a society that has discovered and perfected time travel. It is customary for people who turn 18 to spend a day in the present with their future selves. When it's your turn, you start to feel that the person you're talking to isn't really you. | My friends couldn't wait for their Meetings, but I, for one, dreaded its coming. Meeting my future self? What if I become some kind of failure, or a terrible person? What if I'm sick and broken or hysterical? I don't want to know how it all falls apart, what becomes of a guy like me. I've already gotten a glimpse of it through the harsh words of instructors and my dad over aptitude scores through the years.
So when the day finally came, and I waited near shut doors in a hallway of white, I was sweating and shivering. The attendant running the main desk smiled weakly at me through holoscreens.
"It's okay, lots of people are nervous going in," she said.
"Yeah." I nodded, twitching a half-smile at her, and returned my eyes to the floor. Pneumatics hissed, and my breath caught, knowing the door had opened though I refused to look inside.
"It's ready," she said, still sitting at her desk. I drew a deep breath and held it as I walked in, keeping my eyes low. Inside was a cozy room, with plenty of seats, a real fire burning at the center, and not a screen in sight to distract us with. It felt archaic, but relaxing in a way.
And there I was, smiling by the fire, somewhere between the ages of 40 and 50. My hair was neat, peppered with gray, and I had a solid beard that complimented a sharp grey suit.
"Hey," I-- well, he -- said. "Want a drink? Great whiskey. You're 18 now, and may as well get used to whiskey cause I love this shit."
I smiled, nodding. "Hell yeah."
"Come, take a seat."
Settling into a comfortable silk couch, I accepted the crystal glass filled with liquid bronze. It smelled like wood and ash, and tasted like it, too. I coughed after the first sip.
"Ah, that's the spirit," he said, laughing. "Now, that should help you warm up. I know you don't like strangers a whole lot, but, well... I'm you. Ask some questions."
My eyes met his. "You look different than I expected."
"And what did you expect?"
I shrugged. "I dunno, something... less put-together, I guess."
"I know you're struggling now, but it gets better. You're a smart kid, you know, smarter than the tests tell you."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Really. Life is great for me, actually. Lovely wife, nice home, nothing too ridiculous like a virtual island but things are nice. A lot better than I thought they'd be."
My brows knitted. "But how? What do you do for a living?"
He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm an AI broker. Fascinating creatures, and managing their contracts is good work."
*AI broker? I love tech, but AI freaks me out.*
"Why'd you go down that route?"
"Someone offered me a job, and I took it. Can't tell you too much, obviously."
I shifted in my seat. "Well, how did you get over all the... you know."
His face flickered. "The what?"
My brows slowly relaxed, and I avoided his hard gaze. "Tell me your darkest secret."
He started. "I don't have any. My life is pretty simple, as you can imagine."
"Bullshit. Tell me something you know that other people don't know about you. Or me, I guess."
His laugh was nervous, I could tell. "I can't get too detailed and throw the timeline off."
"You said you have no secrets, but I have one, so you have to. Roll up your sleeves, to the elbow."
"This is getting hostile, and I don't think we should continue. It may not be good for either of us."
I rose. "Roll up your fucking sleeves."
He stood as well, but I rushed in, pulling my tablet stylus and pressing it to his throat before he could balance himself.
"You don't want to do this," he said through teeth bared.
I pressed harder. "Tell me."
He hissed through his teeth, breaths jagged. "Alright! Fuck, kid, alright. You're going to regret this... I'm not you."
I pulled back, and he rubbed at his neck. "Who are you, then? Why are you pretending to be me?"
His eyes shied to the floor, sighing. "Because you don't live long enough to have a future self. They don't tell actors the details, but that's the only time we get called in. Sorry, kid, but you're the one that made me tell you."
My stylus clattered against the ground.
----
*/r/resonatingfury* | The man across the table looked like me. Or, he looked like I presumably would, in a few decades. He had a full beard, rather than my patchy, thin one. There were lines and wrinkles permanently visible on his face. Nothing huge, but... they were there.
"You remember David? And Maggie?" I asked.
"Oh, of course. God, it's been ages, though. I should call them some time."
"What, you aren't hanging out with them? Something happen?"
He shrugged. "They moved away. David went down to Florida, got a gig doing electrical stuff for Disney. Maggie ended up flying off west to be with her boyfriend. They have some kids now."
"And you? Me? What happened there?"
He winked, tapping the side of his nose. "Ah ah ah. That would be telling."
That irked me. He had to know as well as I did that that didn't matter.
"You know as well as I do that that doesn't matter," I said. "Timelines can split. The future isn't immutable."
"Yeah, but it's less fun if you know everything that's going to happen."
I tensed up a bit at that. That was the whole reason for this meeting. I'd been waiting for years, to hear guidance from the one person that I really could be sure was looking out for me. Why wasn't he helping? Something was off.
"What's my favorite color?"
"Blue? No, wait, green!" He smiled as he said it. It was the right phrase. "Number is eight, the person you're thinking of is probably Jean-Paul, if I remember right, and the words are benevolence and malevolence. Yeah, I went through the same thing."
"I'm not sure I believe you."
He sighed, rubbing at the back of his head. "Yeah, you don't really have to. It doesn't matter."
"What? Of course it matters. This is the only chance I get, unless I become a trillionaire, and then there's all kinds of licensing and stuff. If I'm getting cheated..."
"You're not getting cheated. This is just me. You. Us." He spread his arms, giving me a sad sort of smile.
I frowned. "It's subtle, I'll give you that. But you're definitely not me."
"No, of course not. But not in the way that you're thinking."
"And how would you know how I'm thinking, if you're not me, hmm?"
"Because I *was* you, dummy. I'm not anymore. Just like you're not the same person you were when you were four years old, or fourteen years old."
Something clicked. Ah. "Wait, that's it?"
He nodded. "That's it."
"What... is this a ship of Theseus sort of thing?"
"Kind of? It's more nuanced than that." He leaned in, folding his arms and glancing around conspiratorially. "Look, let me let you in on something. One Simon to another. When I was your age, I wasn't talking to myself. By which I mean the me, talking, right now."
"You skip your meeting or something?"
He shook his head. "God no. Would you have skipped the meeting? We're not that different, you know."
That was fair. I couldn't imagine a version of myself that wouldn't want to speak with the future. I nodded.
"No, I mean, like... there are multiple timelines, right? And the future you that you talk to gets pulled in from the extrapolation of the current timeline, within some bounds. But the thing is, by talking to you now, by giving you some insights, I'm *changing* your future timeline. When you're fifty, you're not going to be the same person that I am now."
I thought about it for a second, failed to grasp it, and then thought about it for another minute. My head started to spin when I realized the possibilities. It was like vertigo, looking down over the edge of a deep pit.
"So what you're saying is... I'm going to talk to a younger Simon in the future, and give him advice that's different than what you gave me... and then he'll talk to a younger Simon, and give *him* even *more* different advice, repeated... for how long?"
He smiled, wide and with lots of teeth. "Forever, so far as I figure it. In both directions."
"Jesus."
"It's cool though, right?"
"I mean... I guess? What's the point, though?"
"Well, think about it. I hope, I genuinely hope, that this meeting makes you a better person. That you have just a bit more knowledge to pass down to the next Simon. If you do, then it makes him just that little bit better, too. We, as a collective, get incrementally better with each cycle."
"Well yeah, but that has to have a limit."
"Oh, of course. We're only capable of taking in so much at 18. But we can approach the limit, get better and better, until we're the best person that we can possibly be."
"We'll never even see the results, though. Each Simon will only ever meet the version before and after him."
"Does it matter? We know that the end result is out there. Theoretically, he already is. We just need to keep playing along to make sure that he gets there." With that, he stood up, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Anyway, I've said my piece, and I think the time I'm allowed to be here is running short."
"Wait, that's it? You aren't gonna tell me to like, exercise more? Or be a nicer person? Or call Mom more often or something?"
He waved me off. "The fact that you're asking means you already know you should be doing those things. Don't question yourself so much, you're a good guy." He was already starting to dematerialize, fading away back into the timeline he'd been pulled from. "Just make sure that you pass that on to the next one."
---
Hello, u/HighWizardOrren here! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this response, please check out my writing website, [over here!](https://orrensdeck.wordpress.com) | 2019-05-23T12:06:21 | 2019-05-23T11:52:33 | 521 | 319 |
[WP] You can absorb 1 power at a time from any animal nearby. Bird? You can fly if you want. Snake? Use their venom if you want. Terrorist have invaded Australia and you're going to stop them. They have no idea what a huge mistake they made messing with your country. | people always forget about history.
they like to think that what happened long ago doesn't affect them anymore.
they're wrong.
foreigners look at the history of Australia and laugh, "there's no way that actually happened!" they dismiss with a slight amount of hopeful fear, "how could the Aussies actually lose a war against an animal?" that's what i overhear as i sneak around the compound, various guards chit-chatting about rumours surrounding the land that they have invaded. i hop the fence thanks to a nearby joey, sneaking around the area with the build of a Dugite writhing about on his own errands in the dirt below; and then i see it. some of these fools have gone and done one of the most reckless things i've ever seen, they caught a whole flock of the birds that terrorized this country enough to warrant military action. and they have these creatures right within my range. sure, i could take all of them out as i am, using the Dugite's lethal venom, but i feel that a bit of poetic irony is better. now is the time, to unleash a flight of the Emu. | I’ve always had the gift. Passed down in my family since my dear ol departed pap pap’s grand dad got dumped on these shores for stealing bread to live. Too right lucky he was. Wasn’t till he got here that he found out about the gift. Made him the most feared bloke in all of Queensland. He was nice enough alright, but any pommie brit crossed him and they were off to the night without mouth full of remorse and a head full of nightmares.
Ya we like to keep it on the downlow. Musta been something about the genes here. Darwin had his theories, I’ll tell ya to ya face, he was dead wrong. Sharing is what its all about. The critters don’t mind. In fact they sometimes get a kick out of it, except poor ol Jim.
Now on a normal day we all just go mind about our business but aint no one liked ol Jim. Even when the drongos in the ski masks showed up to cause a ruckus no one asked about Jim, no one even cared. Jim was on his own as usual.
Now I didn’t mind him. We had a cordial enough relationship. He usually kept to his grounds and I went my own ways. On the days that the terries came to town hollering, shooting, blowing things, scaring good town folk and generally being unsociable me and Jim we came to an understanding. I asked him politely in the old ways and for his part Jim stayed silent.
One night after the terries strolled in like they owned the place I used the gift to make myself as small as a ‘no-see-um’ and buzzed my way into their sleeping place. I saw them gripping their guns so tightly. With their masks, their pillows, their clothing and I used the gifts Jim gave me.
I reached out and touched the surface of everything I could find. Their guns, their masks, their pillows, their clothing. I gave a quick thought and touched all their food and water too. I spent to night small as a gnat touching everything they would.
In the morning I sat there and waiting. I waited for the screaming to begin. I waiting for the wailing, for the tearing and clawing. I waited for the curdling screams as they touched, laid upon, grabbed, drank or ate my gift. IT wasn’t long before they were shooting themselves in the head, cutting their wrists or begging to die in any manner to make the pain stop. To make my gift stop. The gift of Jim; Dendrocnide Moroidesthe also known as the Gympie plant. | 2019-09-07T10:20:46 | 2019-09-07T10:13:06 | 51 | 21 |
[WP] "Are you the Tooth Fairy? You don't look like a fairy," the child said accusingly. Death, who had been on his way to the goldfish bowl, began to sweat. | "You—you can see me?" said Death.
"Well duh!" said Moira with a roll of her eyes.
"This is not good," muttered Death, twisting the hem of his long black sleeves. "Surely not—"
"What are you saying over there?" said Moira, frowning. "It's not nice to whisper, you know—"
Death paid no notice. Surely, *surely* this must be a mistake...For her to be able to see him...so young. He steeled his nerves—metaphorically—and spoke to the young, pouting girl. "Dear, do you know who I am?" he said.
"No!" the girl said. "I thought you were the tooth fairy, but you're not! Who are you?!" she screamed.
Not good, thought Death. He had to keep her calm. Throughout the ages, he had developed quite a bad reputation. He was made out as some dark force, some evil monster. But the truth was, he was nothing of the sort, simply a god, doing his job. He took no pleasure in cleaving souls away from dying bodies, and certainly not children's souls.
"Dear?" he said delicately. "I am Death—"
"*So*?" snapped Moira.
"Well, well, see—people can only see me when...when they're about to—to die," he finished. To his enormous surprise, Moira simply stood there, shaking impatiently.
"Is that all?" she snarled. "Good. I was just about to brush my teeth, but after having the *dis*pleasure of meeting you, I'm going to bed!" And she stormed off up the stairs. Death, nonplussed, heard her climb back down, ready to shout something else, but she stopped; she looked confused.
"Gone, is he?" she sniffed. "Good riddance!" And she stalked off again.
*Gone?* thought Death. And then it all came to him. Moira had just been about to brush her teeth, and she, in her excitement, had nearly swallowed too much toothpaste once (he had visited the house on that day to collect her grandfather). Luckily, her parents had been there to take quick action. If she'd gone off a while ago to do so, she would most likely have done it again. But after meeting him, Death, she was so upset that she didn't bother, thus preventing her untimely fate.
He chuckled at the irony. The presence of Death had saved a life. He actually laughed out loud as he disappeared, taking the soul of Moira's goldfish with him. | He closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten. His scythe longed to fulfill its purpose, to reap the souls of the living once more. He felt his temper and his shame rising as he gripped his eternal weapon in his boney grasp, letting the anger flow out of him and into the surroundings as he'd learned to do. Ever since that fateful day, when he'd--
"What kinda fairy doesn't have wings? Can't you fly?"
He sighed, tugging his hood down over his skeletal face as he tried to gather his thoughts again. It had been so long since he'd last properly observed the passing of a soul into the Netherworld that he'd almost forgotten the importance of not being seen. The young red-headed boy with frickles sucked in a breath before talking in that stuffed-up, nasally tone that always set the ancient one on edge.
"I bet you can't even fly!"
He could already feel a familiar migraine forming along his eye sockets, and he rubbed his fingerbones along them irritably. "I can too fly. See how my feet never touch the the ground?" He pulled up the edge of his robe to show his boney feet settled nicely on an eerie green cloud.
"Yeah maybe, but you don't have wings so you can't fly so you aren't the Tooth Fairy, are you?"
"No, child, I am not the tooth fairy." The skeletal figure glanced down at the young boy who just stared at him blankly in return. "I don't know why you would tink dat I would be-"
"I have a pet goldfish, and his name is Mr. Swims. Wanna go see him?"
The reaper sighed as the weight of responsibility dragged his mood right back down to the ground again. "Yes, why don't you take me to go see Mr. Swims." Pets used to be his favorite to crossover, since they never complained and were usually just happy to get away from the cruelty of their owners. That is, until that stupid hamster thing happened. Maybe he might be able to get away with sending Mr. Swims to the afterlife. That might brighten his morning.
"Are you sure it's okay? Won't they be looking for you?" The red-head sniffled again in a way that made the reaper recoil disgustedly. "We could go over there and--"
"NO!" The Grim Reaper shook his head, then coughed before continuing in a much softer, gentler voice. "I tink the best thing to do now is for you to show me Mister Swims."
"Oh, okay! Just be careful, cuz he swims a lot." The boy took his hand and led the Reaper to the living room. Near the center stood an ancient fishbowl containing a single goldfish that looked like it had swam its last marathon. He smiled and tried not to fidget as he drew close, sensing the small creature's time had come and he at last would find relief from his torture.
"I'll be right back, I promise!"
The boy bounced off towards the kitchen once more, while the portender of death smiled grisly at the goldfish. At last, at long last, he'd finally be able to fulfill his true purpose once more. He slowly raised the scythe, a tool of phenomenal cosmic power that had been turned to lesser pursuits for so long he'd feared it had gone dull. Just one swipe down, and it would all be over.
The door behind him suddenly burst open as a familiar, angry young girl's shadowy outline contrasted against the noon sun behind her.
"GRIM! I know you've been hiding here at Pud'n's house! I need you to get my homework done!"
Grim felt his relief sprout wings and fly away. With a dropping head, he dragged his scythe along the ground as he obediently made his way to the front door. A wistful glance back at the goldfish who'd likely never see the end of days before the door slammed shut behind him, and he felt the migraine coming on full force.
"Stupid goldfish..."
"What was that?" She perked an eyebrow at him.
"Nothing Mandy, nothing at all." | 2020-01-24T14:52:43 | 2020-01-24T12:47:37 | 46 | 29 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | You look down it your phone, and upon it is a notification, "Huh, weird email. who even uses yahoo mail anymore?" you say to yourself.
As you look at the text, you realize that the background is a mosaic of moving gears, flashing lights, and bubbling tubes.
You are given a choice, either be transported into the game that you last played, with the reward being that you are allowed to keep everything that you achieve or create, or never to be given the option again.
Being the fairly curious persion you are, you accept. Moments after you tap the button, you notice that your surroundings are becoming blurry and almost oily in consistancy. You succumb to the nausea that is produced by this, and when you come to, you find yourself in a barren land wearing nothing but a lightly padded suit and equipped with only a pickaxe and a pistol.
You only have one clear thought on your mind...
#***the factory must grow...*** | I opened my eyes to a warm sun shining from outside a stone arch, and promptly freaked out: *Warm? Sun? I was in the freezing north seconds ago, waiting for the water to boil so I can get some heat inside me with some tea, Where the fuck am I?*
Unprompted a different perspective opened, like a third eye that shouldn't exist. I saw myself, skin darker, as if I stood outside every day, then progressively my vision zoomed out until I was looking at a topographical map of the region. It looked like Greece. The second the thought crossed my mind the map got colored in blue and a name plastered on top: "Macedonia".... shit.
As I proceeded to freak out for the next 30 minutes this third sense would keep expanding, I was able to zoom out and see the entirety of Europe, see what goods were being produced everywhere, see the might of each nation in the world, then a message popped in front of me: "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this would. Good luck".
Hours later I was still staring at the message as a group of people walked in, worried about my health as I had missed the council meetings that morning. Reassuring them I was in fact fine and we should proceed with the meeting in my chamber anchored me to this new reality, the challenge ahead of me and everything I would have to do. As I stared blankly at them reciting data that was already in my head about provinces and budget and military I considered what "Winning" actually meant here, half the world... Europe, India, North Africa, all under my banner, an impossible task... at least I was given the country that came closest to achieving it.
My sudden rising gave pause to my advisers, all of them silent as I walked to the balcony to look over my realm, eventually one of them mustered the courage to approach me:
"Are you certain you are in good health Lord?" He spoke in a strange language but somehow I understood it different from the one during the meeting, I realized it wasn't something I knew and yet in the time it took to process all that I suddenly was able to understand him. Yet another useful twist.
"I was considering how far the previous ruler went, and I think I wish to go further"
"You wish to reunite Alexander's Empire, Lord?
"Much more than that, but first we need to turn west, to Rome" | 2020-02-16T23:15:41 | 2020-02-16T23:11:27 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | “Order! Order! There will be order in this chamber!”
The Grand Vizier’s voice was projected across the large rotunda. Delegates from across the galaxy bickered and clamored over the fact that the representatives from Andorus Major invoked the Defense Alliance, something that had not been done in thousands of years.
In the galaxy, war was not fought traditionally but rather via flexing military superiority. There was no longer a need for a major defensive alliance as the Galactic Union had consolidated much of the galaxy under its hegemony.
The Vizier held his hand up, silencing the chamber. After a moment, he spoke, “Will the representative from Andorus Major please explain the reason for invoking the Defense Alliance?”
The chamber fixated on the Andoran, a tall bipedal species with deep blue skin and jet black hair. Andorans were one of the most powerful species in the Union and there words carried weight.
“Grand Vizier. I stand before you and this chamber to urge us to act. There is a threat encroaching upon this galaxy that we must address with haste. Otherwise I fear the dissolution of this great Union.”
Furious whispers erupted across the chamber, some delegates claiming the Andoran was lying. The Vizier waited for the uproar to quiet down before asking, “Representative, have you any proof of this threat?”
Producing a small, spherical Holosphere, he said, “If I may?”
The Holosphere was broadcasted to the entire rotunda. It showed eight deep space frigates, large and angular covered in turrets and artillery. Very menacing, very Andoran. They were the fiercest frigates in space, rivaled by the Tulsans and Srii-uum.
The broadcast shifted to what was facing the ships. It was about six cruisers, no definitive features floating towards the Andoran fleet.
“Andoran ships encountered this fleet and received a single message from them. ‘Surrender,’” the Andoran explained.
The Andoran fleet moved to battle positions, creating a single half-spherical line of ships with their artillery pointed at the mystery crafts. They aligned themselves in typical galactic custom. Few races in the galaxy would take the Andorans bluff.
But, incredibly, the six ships each fired a single missile into the Andoran fleet between each frigate. For a moment, nothing happened. Then each missile exploded with a brilliant light that vaporized the Andoran ships.
The entire rotunda was in awe. Eight Andoran naval frigates burned in front of their eyes. The mystery fleet then opened fire on the remaining wreckage. And then the broadcast ended.
Once again, the entire Union erupted in shouts and exclamations. Some of them called it a hoax, others demanded the Defense Alliance be invoked, shouts of ‘put it to a vote’ filled the chamber.
“Representatives, please!” the Grand Vizier shouted, “We will have order!”
Focusing on the Andoran delegation, he asked, “Representative where was this?”
Looking at his Holopad, the representative scanned it and then said, “Sector 271-X.”
“The Galactic Edge? Have you identified the assailants? An unincorporated system?”
“N-No, they are not from this galaxy at all. Their ships must have been a scouting expedition. They call themselves, human.” | "You know what you don't understand about people?" Fleet Commander Astrea stomped up to Archgeneral Hughes of the First Human Empire. "About civilization as a whole?"
"Fleet Commander Astrea." Hughes projected his booming voice over Astrea's. Though he was a baseline human, he'd evidently picked up some training in public speaking somewhere. "We are currently at war with the Nereids. We approach their starships even now. There had better be a very, *very* good reason for you to have abandoned your post."
"Yes! Yes, there is!" Astrea pulled at her hair. "If you attack the Nereids now, the entire First Human Empire will be destroyed!"
"The Nereids broadcast their every move to the entire galaxy, the arrogant fools. We know their military capacity is far below ours." Hughes' eyes narrowed. "Are you saying that they've deceived us? Our technicians and cultural analysts both agree that these broadcasts are real—"
"Gah!" Astrea threw both of her hands up in the air. "No! No, no, no! How did someone as stupid as you become Archgeneral—look, Hughes. You said it yourself. The Nereids broadcast everything they do to everyone, *everywhere*. It's baked into their culture. And their technological infrastructure is so refined that anyone watching, from anywhere in the galaxy, can experience what they experience *exactly* as if they were there themselves."
"Yes. It is a massive tactical weakness."
"Only on the small scale! Three *trillion* sentient beings around the galaxy turn to the Nereids' war games for entertainment. Right now, in anticipation of the battle to come, fifty billion humans throughout the First Human Empire are watching the Nereids. Watching them laugh and play and chat to their viewers and be oh so close to human. Especially at a time like this, with shipping lanes shut down for the war and people scared of Earth's first interstellar conflict, people need contact and comfort. The Nereids are providing that. And what do you want to do, in response to their declaration of war? You want to kill them all!"
Archgeneral Hughes gave her a dry look. "Yes. This is a war. In a war, you are supposed to kill the enemy. It's a necessity, but it's for the good of the state."
"Literally every word you just said is incorrect. For the good of the state? Do you understand what will happen at home if every citizen of the First Human Empire—children, politicians, media influences, everyone we're trying to protect—do you know what will happen if they tune in to the Nereids' broadcast and see you *slaughtering* them? And remember. They'll sense it as surely as if they were there themselves. Nereid 'warships' have families on them, Archgeneral. Children whose mass murder at the hands of the First Human Empire you're going to livestream to *everyone*. Hughes, you're thinking of our civilizations as if we're... elephants, beating at each other with our trunks. But we're not. We're delicate, delicate spiderwebs of *connections*. And the Nereids have connected themselves to us. Set them ablaze, and we'll burn too."
Archgeneral Hughes paused. He opened his mouth to speak, and an aide whispered into his ear. He grimaced, then set his finger down. "...I only wish you had come to me with more *respect*, Fleet Commander Astrea. I would have you promoted for potentially saving the First Human Empire, if it didn't set a disastrous precedent."
First Commander Astrea scoffed, shaking her head. "No, that's exactly *why* I started shouting at you in front of your entire command structure. You're not promoting me away from where I'm most effective: boots on the ground and thumb on the pulse. Society is connection, and if you leverage that right, you can run rings around your opponents."
"Well. The fact remains that the Nereids *have* declared war. We have to make some sort of response, yes? It would be a terrible blow to our credibility if we simply... turned around and left them alone."
First Commander Astrea nodded. "I knew you had to be smarter than you looked, if you made Archgeneral."
"Hm." Archgeneral Hughes made a note to look into First Commander Astrea's past. He was sure he would have noticed someone as disruptive—and yet ingenious—as she before. "What course of action do you recommend?"
Astrea grinned. "The Nereids. Their audience. *Me.* We all want one thing. A show." She held up a broadcaster, its screen showing that it had been recording the entire time. "Let's give it to them!"
If you liked this story and have a quarantine-induced need of entertainment, you may want to head over to r/rileywrites! | 2020-03-21T08:46:43 | 2020-03-21T07:39:56 | 156 | 96 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | Admiral Joseph Nakamura looked over his fleet with trepidation. They were outnumbered 10 to 1. The quickly cobbled together international space force (ISF) was a miracle of humanity's ability to come together in a crisis.
In 2048 the Borxite had made themselves known to Earth by beginning a roughly 3 minute orbital bombardment of Tokyo, New York City, and Brussels. They then deployed drones which had a clear roughly 53 month countdown over every major city on Earth. The Borxite then fled using some kind of faster than light travel involved a subspace detonation. The drones every 83 hours would display a holographic message which gave us what little we knew.
Humanity immediately began to panic until three days after a dozen major governments agreed to an international deal to combine forces to study these drones and to at least show the Borxite what humanity was made of. Every major government joined within 72 hours.
Admiral Nakamura was chosen to head the force. He surveyed his fleet. He had 27 ships under his command made from the best technology humanity could cobble together from reverse engineering a dozen of the Borxite drones as well as the imaginations of engineers finally unleashed without ethical or budgetary limitations.
Of course not everything went according to plan. The ISF made the foolish decision to leave the naming of his flagship to social media. The ISF Godzilla was an intimidating ship built into a small asteroid and bristling with plasma projectors, nuclear missile launchers, railguns, and heatsinks.
Trepidation aside it was time to fight.
The Borxite moved forward in what could only be described as a parade formation. It was beautiful in it's own way, maximizing the profile of each ship displayed to the enemy.
Nakamura turned to Captain Singh, the captain of the Godzillan in disbelief.
"Mohammed, is your ship ready for combat."
Doing his best to look confident Captain Singh responded "The ISF Godzilla is ready for your command Admiral".
Nakamura turned his comm to the Planet-wide Channel.
"FOR TOKYO! FOR NEW YORK! FOR BRUSSELS! FOR EARTH! All ships engage!"
Ten hours later Nakamura wiped blood from his eyes where he had been manning the communications panel and looked around. The bridge was on fire in three places, half the crew was dead, and the ISF was down to only 7 ships remaining.
But they had won.
The Borxite fought with flashing techniques like a military version of peacocks. Strutting about. Their ships had giant laser weapons but only 2 usually per ship. The smallest of the ISF ships had carried a railgun and six nuclear missiles.
The last 3 Borxite vessels were limping away at an obviously crippled speed.
"Nakamura to all remaining ISF vessels, earth and Borxite Invaders. Let the last enemy flee. Let them know the consequences of messing with humanity. Also let them know: next time, Earth is protected by Godzilla."
The cheers drowned out any other responses as Admiral Nakamura passed out from exhaustion.
https://www.reddit.com/r/BalrogTheBuff/comments/fn09x5/admiral_nakamura_and_the_defense_of_earth/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x | Montana's always had clear skies, used to love lookin up at night and watchin the stars. Not anymore though, those bastards changed that. I was out chasin down a cow that got loose one night when I saw them.
Those ugly things came right down, like a fireball from heaven. Apparently they were after the same thing I was. They looked like those things that jules Verne guy wrote about except less dumb lookin. They hit about 1/4 mile away and started bookin it towards my cow.
I wasnt about to let them do so, so I got my levergun out of the saddle and took a couple potshots.
They were none too pleased with this chain of events so they scrambled and returned fire with what I can only rightly describe as a teeny star being hurled at my face at approximately running speed. I was awestruck at this and in the time it took me to process what was happening, the thing hit me square in the chest.
I thought for sure I was dead, but it just flashed me somethin fierce. I found out the next day it gave me the worst sunburn of my life.
After that we just stopped in our tracks, them surprised I wasnt on my ass and I was still trying to figure out what just happened.
One of them rushed me and tackled me, felt like a kid was doin it.
When the rest came over to scope out the situation they busted out laughing, pointing at my lever gun. Something buzzed on their necks and one of then said in between laughs
"I cant believe you'd, you'd.. pfff do you even see what were packing?!?"
The thing reached into his pack and pulled out a stick, about the size of my arm with what looked like one of them lightbulbs on the end, the thing was covered from stem to stern in gold leaf, decorative vinework and all sorts of inlays, it must have cost a fortune, the thing seemed very proud of it.
"Can it ya jackass that things your brothers anyway, you're just borrowing it."
"Besides didnt you see what that weapon did to our ship? Tore a hole right through!"
Now I had a choice, I could either prove that my rifle was nothin to sneeze at, or I could flex on these weirdos.
Being the gentleman I am, I elected to flex.
"Hey I got somethin like that, pa spent a good few hundred bucks gettin it done up real nice."
As I pulled pa's peacemaker out of its holster, what little sunlight there was caught every facet of the engraving, the pearl inlays, every minute detail had been prettied up in one way or another. Pa made sure "it was an investment" as he put it. The things couldnt help but stare, I couldnt blame them iv never got used to its luster.
They all took a step back, kinda fearful I guess. What I gather from their weapons, they value looks over firepower. When their leader pointed out what my rifle did, I figure I'd show'm both.
The biggest one, all decked in armor and tattoos, after seeing pa's gun, he figured it would be a good idea to wrassle for it. What he didnt know is I spent a good 15 years wrasslin hogs and a man's no different.
Even though he was about 8 feet tall and 5 foot around, he only weighed about 200 pounds and hit like a girl.
I reared back, clocked him on the chin one good time and he went down like a brick.
The one that pointed out the hole in their ship, he seemed the smartest so I figured he was their leader. He came up to me after the fight.
"I dont know how or why you're able to take on a champion such as him without breaking a sweat, or use seemingly primitive weapons to disable a warship, but earthling, I feel it's in our best interest to offer you a truce and a deal..."
"On behalf of our ruler, I request you accompany us back to our home and let us study not only your weapons, but your sturdy biology as well. Our small arms have long since stagnated, the weapon that shot you would normally scorch any other lifeform, but you seem unaffected on a whole. Perhaps it was wise of us to wait for "dusk" as you call it, your sun must be a death sentence."
"Of course you'll be rewarded handsomely for your service, and we couldnt contain you if we tried, this stands to benefit us both as I see it,
What do you say, will you help us?" | 2020-03-21T12:44:48 | 2020-03-21T11:39:12 | 38 | 13 |
[WP] Every time someone lies to you, money is deposited into your checking account. The larger the lie, the larger the deposited amount. Your account balance increased a million dollars since yesterday. You’ve only spoken to your significant other since yesterday. | I don't know where the money comes from, I just know how it gets there.
Every lie, every untruth, every falsehood just serves to make me richer.
It is dirty money. Every cent just makes me more paranoid, and here was more than I have ever seen at once.
I look at my wife. "Honey, we are rich."
My wife looks at me. "I know, but why do you look so unhappy about it?"
It couldn't be helped, I just exploded at her. "You know how I get that money! And a giant deposit was made yesterday. You were the only one I talked to the whole day. Now fess up!"
My wife gave a tired sigh. "You fell asleep in front of the tv again, didn't you?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
She rolled her eyes, "It is an election year. You know who was probably making a speech."
Oh, right. That. Calming down, I swore to myself to stick to Netflix from now on. | I have an amazing new power that I thought made all the difference. I call it Midas’s Ear - when somebody lies, my wallet swells with green in accordance with the magnitude. Since those first days, I’ve been gauging my power; $10 from the guy who said he’ll only be ten minutes late but thinks he’ll actually be fifteen; $50 from the sales woman who says I look fine but hates my guts; $2000 from the guy covering up his error that cost us nearly that much. I have a lie detector and it makes a buck. It gets even better when I can trick others into putting their social lives into the mix; I ask a man how his marriage is going knowing he ditched her a state ago and get $12000 in complete secret. I am the one firm boss who can afford to be sociable.
But there are drawbacks to this. Wonder where I got this gift? Well, buzz right off of you think I’m just going to spill all the beans that keep me going. But, I had a lover of my own once, and she betrayed me. It was my gift that learned me when she lied about the divorce papers she was hiding. It hurt, for sure, but the lie spun me a whopping $1,000,000! You bet I wasn’t just going to stand there and bawl while she savored her moment of triumph, I jumped state and started a new firm, Midas Inc. I foot the bills on my lie detector business, and I know who I can trust.
But there’s one more problem that comes with all this. Lying and bullshitting are not the same thing, and the gift doesn’t work with the latter. Sometimes, they get an idea that something weird is going on. So when I ask them, “Where is your copy of that memo?”, instead of lying about it being in their desk when it’s really in shreds in their house trash, they say “If I knew, I’m not wearing my other shirt.” It’s infuriating, because I have to bring out my less pleasant self and get the truth. And truth doesn’t pay.
And lately, I’ve seen a familiar face, her glasses just visible in the street light around a corner. She’s been following me, making moves against my integrity. They say with such power comes a heavy shadow and old baggage, and I fear I will have to spend the remainder of my days eluding her - my ex wife, and her power that makes all the difference, the ability to sniff out the gold wherever it’s hidden. | 2020-08-28T13:41:59 | 2020-08-28T12:29:00 | 68 | 20 |
[WP] You were once the demon king. "Defeated" by the hero, you went into hiding to pursue a simpler life. Today the "hero" has appeared, threatening you family to pay tribute, not realizing who you actually are. Today you show them what happens when you have something worth fighting to protect. | I bowed before him, hiding my face - not that this pompous oaf would recognise me. Years have not been kind to him, while I remain youthful in appearance through magic that courses through me. " Kind sir, we are but farmers, who barely make ends meet. If you take your tenth of our crops, we might not survive the harsh winter."
"Alas, such is the law, peasant. For ridding you of the demon king, our king has granted me this land, a title and the tenth for life. Why else would a knight put his life in danger if not for promise of coin and wine"
"We make no wine sir. Just wheat, cheese, pickles."
"No meat?"
"No sir. Our religion forbids harming other living souls"
"Ah, well, how old is your daughter?"
Lilith was 14. Not a woman yet, but already in bud. Angry cry of disgust came from my wife, as she hid her from the knights lustful gaze.
"The Prima Nocte applies to any girl over 14"
"She is 14"
"Too bad", he rubbed his chin laughing with his side kicks. As he turned, his eyes were sprayed with blood, as I exploded their heads. It felt good stretching my powers after decades in hiding.
He reached for his sword, only to scream and drop it burning his hand. When we first met, the coward king gave him his enchanted blade. This was ordinary steel.
He still did not recognise me.
"What are you? A witch? I have slain the demon king, I'll dispose of you easily," he bleated while trying to turn his horse. The animal stood still. It knew me, for beasts see everything in true form.
"Moira, take the kids into the house. Pack important stuff and food onto our wagon. Our time here has ended"
The knight came down from his horse, sword in hand and charged me.
My hand stopped his blade.
His eyes widened as he recognised my eyes.
"You are dead"
"I cannot die. Enchantment on the sword banished me, leaving only traces of magic. It took decades to gather it. Decades in which I led a simple mortal life. Learned to love. Found my place, friends, family. Regained a piece of my soul. You, in term lost it. "
He raised a huge cross on his chest and started mumbling: " I banish thee, the seed of evil, back to the hell you sprung from"
"I am no longer affiliated to Lord of the HellPits. As my own agent, I wield less power, but I am free from influence of your petty god"
He fell on his knees. "Let me live, I only did what I had to, by the order of the king"
"Do you even know why he sent you after me?"
"No"
"He owed me his daughter's hand in marriage for it was I who made him a king. I was his trusted advisor until his spies found a way to get rid off me"
"the sword"
"You catch on quick. Too bad you won't be able to tell the old traitor I am coming for him" | it was a nice rainy day when it first hit me, i learned to find confort in peasant work. lived a simple life for many years in the outskirts of the city, using human tools, as well as finding joy out of their entertainment, grew a farm and learned to sell it to some city merchants and wonderers crossing by. I became more human than demon, stopped using my powers less and less as days ent by to control peoples fears, to get everything i wanted, i had to, by then i was still defeated by the towns hero, Saint Jurist.
i was sitting down looking at the rain, and for just one second i thought “i actually enjoy this” i became humbled, but my demon was never gone, the real me.
years went by after that rainy day, i met this wonderer human, and believe it or not, she was so great that my repulse for human kind was ripped away from me. Now we have a beautiful daughter and i can say, ironically enough, that im happy.
2 days ago something i never saw coming happened. The hero that once took everything away from me, crossed my farm, followed by 2 dozen of his man... They stopped in front of my home, came to the door asking for tribute for their leader. knowing who he was, i couldnt help to be infuriated, causing a growth in my demon powers i hadn’t felt in decades. so strong i could feel my power darkening the sky, giving me the confidence i lost once upon a time back. I refused to give them anything, causing them to throw a blow at my face, which i stopped with one hand as i punched back with the other. Two of the soldiers tried to attack me and with no effort at all, i managed to bring them down. The power this hate towards him had giving me, made me feel like a god!
They all came towards me by then, and no matter how powerful i felt, how much i kept on knocking them out, they managed to get to the one thing i cared the most, my family. It brought my senses back, and the sky turned right back to the beautiful sunny day it was. They were ready to kill them when the Saint asked them to stop. He faced me and asked what was wrong, i was surprised that he didnt recognize me. He spoke to me like he would have to any other human. maybe it was my beard? maybe he had been so into his new god-like life that he didn’t remenber my face. I responded “im not giving you any tribute, you are just a human, the only reason u have all of this is because the gods helped you defeat the lord of the demons”. stroked by my answer he asked me who i was, and with no fear i said “i am the lord of demons, the lord of hell, the falle angel, i am Lucifer”
The hero responded, “so you are a no body”
“kill them all”
For once in my life, i feared. i wasnt sure why for a second, but after looking at the soldiers getting closer ad closer to my family i clearly realized the reason.
As they were getting ready to strike my wife, everything slowed down around me, something i had forgotten i could do.
simultaneously bringing the sky the darkest it had been in many many moons. underworld holes started to open up from the floors and demons that had been caged since, started to fly off, demons that had been stuck for millennia’s in hell ready to destroy the world by my side. I could see the fear on his soldiers, i could feel everything, counting the fear my family had for me... but i didnt care. I killed them all as the rest of the demons flew from city to city destroying everything in their path. The Saint is still in my tower i want him to see the world fall apart before i end him. He never saw it coming. What i cant stop thinking about is my family, i left them, gave them everything they needed but they dont see me the same anymore, they are afraid of who i am. who i was, and have always been. Almost losing them help me remember how powerful fear can be, but i am demon, im no human, and thats why i can use this power over and over again. I remenbered that this fear can give u power but it can also bring you down, so maybe it wasnt god that helped the Saint, maybe his fear gave him strength to defeat me. But i think im ok with that, they all should fear me, and im sure they all do now. | 2020-09-22T22:29:04 | 2020-09-22T22:12:22 | 77 | 24 |
[WP] An exorcist arrives at your door, and says "I'm here to remove the demon." Confused, you say you didn't call for an exorcist, then suddenly a demonic voice says "I did." | Oof. My body hurt again this morning. Which you know, not unusual. I have what the doctors call non epileptic seizures. They have no idea why, and it's just something I learned to live with. You would be surprised what you would get used to as time goes on.
Waking up and taking a HOT shower, I get out feeling a little less sore all over. Ugh milk spoiled again. Another coffee, black. No idea what's up with the dairy, by they clearly need quality control. Another thing to do today, at least it's not a far walk. Better to get to it before work, I look over at the project to be done today.
I grab my coat, and as I reach for the door, there's a three time resounding knock. I let a little "Eep" in surprise. I'll right in front of the door. Who showed up without texting? So weird!! Looking in the side window, I looked at the pastor, puzzled. Ever since the Mormans ran away after I had one of my twitches, I haven't seen any of these guys.
"Um... Can i help you?" The priest looked ancient, his skin grey, only wisps of hair remaining, clothed like Frair Tuck from robin Hood.
"Hello miss." He said with a smile "Are you the owner of this fine dwelling?"
"I mean, I rent here? Do you need my property manager?"
"No, no thank you. I forget renting is a thing on this continent."
"Uh, right. I'm kinda busy right now, but I'm atheist."
"Oh?" He questioned puzzled, Looking intently at me " How very curious. How did you get in here then?"
"Ah, I'm going have to ask you...."
"You have no idea how troublesome this is." Said a high pitched smoker voice "I thought going into a godless household would be safe! She's starving me! No fear at all and I can't leave! I need help!"
"Wait, what?" I twirl around, nothing. But the voice was right by my ear?
"Oh I'm sure." The priest chuckled "I can see how thin you are. You poor devil.. Miss, I understand you would have some questions. May I come inside?" | I was eating chips on my couch, watching a movie I'd enjoyed a lot a few years ago. A short knock came at my door, and reluctantly, I rose from the comfortable cushions.
A man was at my door, black hair combed neatly, holding a large bag in his hand. Once he'd noticed I'd opened the door, a smile broke out across his face.
“Uh, I'm here to remove the demon, Ma'am. Are you Selena?”
“Yes, I am,” I said suspiciously, “but who are you?”
“Oh,” he said, “I'm the exorcist you called, Ma'am.”
“What?” I asked, surprised. “I didn't call for an exorcist.”
“I did,” a voice, unlike anything I've ever heard comes from behind me. It's ruff and it sounds dark, the voice distorting when it speaks.
“Oh,” the exorcist, I look at his name tag, Adam, says. “It speaks.”
“Apparently it does,” I say, stepping out of my house, uncertain of what exactly said that.
“I think you may have a self-aware demon living in your home,” Adam speaks after a moment.
“Do they...” I swallow. “Do they regularly speak?”
“No,” Adam says, “which makes this demon more intelligent than others, in a way.”
“In a way?” I question, curious despite myself.
“Yes,” Adam says, “demons aren't usually able to communicate with humans, let alone know where they've been haunting.”
“That's wonderful,” I say sarcastically. “So this demon, or whatever it is, knows who I am? What I do in my free time? When I eat dinner?”
“Yes,” Adam nods, looking sympathetically at me. “At least this one wants to leave as soon as possible, right?”
His clumsy atempt at reassurance doesn't necessarily work on me, but I give him a weak smile nonetheless.
“And 'it' is right here, can we just get it over with already?” The same terrifying voice speaks, and I startle. Adam, however, doesn't look fazed in the slightest.
“I'm sorry,” Adam says, “I just came to see the issue, work out what I can do for you, that type of thing. I can't work on you today, but we can make an appointment for tomorrow, if you'd like.”
“Oh please,” I practically beg, “please please come back.”
“I'm not gonna kill you in your sleep,” the terrifying voice says, “or else I'd go back to hell.”
“And... you don't want to go back to hell?” I say tentatively.
“Oh, definitely not,” the demon says. “I hated it down there!”
“Okay then, I'll see you tomorrow at 1 PM. See you tomorrow!”
The next day, I anxiously wait for Adam to arrive. He does, bringing along an even bigger bag than before.
“Okay, um, demon, what's your name?”
“Aden,” the demon mutters solemnly.
“Okay, Aden, I want you to stay completely still and I can complete the ritual. I promise you this won't send you to hell, just somewhere where there's not as many people living there. Does that sound good to you?”
“Yes,” Aden says, “I'd be so crateful.”
Adam had asked me after that to exit the room, and I did. I heard chanting, and a few things being moved around.
About an hour later, Adam exited the room he'd been working in, tired.
“Well?” I ask, rising from my previously relaxed position on my couch.
“Well,” he says, “it went well. If you have any other issues, feel free to call me.”
I bid him goodbye, and continue to live in my house, demon free. | 2020-09-28T15:48:20 | 2020-09-28T12:06:42 | 88 | 19 |
[WP] Your SO confesses to you that they are a werewolf. You, a human, respond with a simple okay and proceed to go on. They, in huge shock, can't grasp your easy acceptance. From that day, in various ways, they began testing if you are a mystical creature yourself. | "I don't see why you were so insistent on cooking dinner tonight," I chuckled as Luna sat me down at the dining table. "I thought you hated cooking?"
"Eh, you know, I decided to try picking up more hobbies," she shrugged back at me. The corners of her mouth were turned up a bit too sharply as she smiled.
I gazed down at the meal she had prepared: a plate of Alfredo linguini with slices of baked chicken. I was fairly certain the sauce came straight from a jar, no way she learned how to cook authentic pasta already. "Well I think it looks absolutely delicious. Let's dig in."
I reached for the fork and knife and raised the pasta to my mouth. My fork froze for just a moment, when I noticed Luna staring at me rather intently. She hadn't even picked up her utensils yet, but she hastily moved her attention to her plate when she noticed me. Not thinking too much on it, I put the pasta into my mouth.
My tongue almost burned as soon as it made contact with the sauce, making me flinch. I chewed slowly, and forced the food down my throat. "Wow, uh, you put quite a lot of salt in that. And I can REALLY taste a lot of garlic there, it's uh... it's good of course, just took me by surprise."
Luna stared at me for a few seconds, as if waiting for something, before responding, "Er, yeah thanks. I, um, it's my first time so you know, I might have made a few mistakes. You aren't... hurt, are you?"
"What?" I squinted my brows at her. "Of course not, it's just food. The salt and garlic's pretty strong, sure, but it isn't *harmful*. I actually quite like the garlic, though I think you could tone it down on the salt, maybe add more pepper."
"Right, yeah, of course." She gave a nervous chuckle and looked awkwardly to the side, then down to her food.
I gazed back at her, trying to decipher that look on her face before saying, "Let me get us some glasses of water—"
"I'll get it!" Luna jumped out of her seat before I could even respond and disappeared into the kitchen in a blur.
A few moments later she returned, her smile fidgeting a bit as she placed the glasses down on the table. I just thanked her and took a swig from. The whole time, Luna kept on watching me, her eyes fidgeting from my glass to me. "Um... how is it?"
I looked back at her quizzically. "You mean the water? It's, uh, water. Iced. It... doesn't taste like it came from our filter. But it's just water."
Another nervous chuckle crept out of Luna. "H-Haha yeah, sorry, just... messing around."
The dinner continued on in silence, with nothing but the clatter of dining-ware filling our apartment. I thought I'd try the chicken to help combat the saltiness, but I paused when I saw how pink it was on the inside; it was hardly cooked at all. Unable to stomach anymore of our dinner, my gaze turned to study the room... and then I began noticing things. "What's that above my bedroom door?"
"Hm?" Luna's eyes immediately shot the opposite way.
"That tree branch hanging over the doorway."
"Oh!" Luna's voice shot up in false shock. "That! Is... a tree branch. A... rowan branch. I, um, was doing some redecoration."
"Rowan, huh?" I raised a brow at her. "Above a doorway?"
"I... liked the Feng Shui."
I was knowledgable enough in folklore and myths to recognize what the rowan branch meant. You'd hang it over a doorway to forbid fairies from coming through.
"Right. And why do we have a cross on the wall? Neither of us are Christian."
"Ah that! Was, um, a gift, and it'd be rude if I just got rid of it, so..."
With a deep sigh I got up from my seat and walked over to Luna. I grasped her hand as I knelt down and spoke softly to her, "Ok Luna, look. I get what's going on. The 'decorations', the salt and garlic, the—I'm pretty sure this is holy water? You still don't believe I'm just human, do you?"
Luna's jaw hung open, her eyes trembling as they looked down at me, and she shook her head. "I... I just don't get it. When I told you I was a werewolf, I expected you to dump me on the spot, but you just didn't care. How could a human be okay with this?"
"Why can't one be okay with it?" I asked. "I don't care what you all. Vampire, ghoul, specter, demon. I know you always tried your hardest to be genuine with me, and I know how difficult it must've been for you to admit the truth to me. And your honesty is just all the more reason for me to love you."
Luna gazed deep into my eyes, her breath growing unsteady, before she suddenly fell out of her chair and burrowed herself into my arms. A suppressed sob escaped her lips as they kissed my cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I lied to you for years, expecting you to trust me, and now here I am unwilling to trust you,"
"It's alright, I understand." I cooed, pressing my lips against her forehead. The two of us sat together in each other's embrace for a minute in silence, before hesitantly I opened my mouth. "But... you're right. I haven't been completely honest with you today."
Luna's head bolted up and stared at me with wide eyes. "What is it?! Er, I mean— look, just be honest with me. You stuck with me even when my worst secrets got out, and it's only fair I do the same. I love you, and you don't have to be afraid of any secret you might be keeping."
I gulped and nodded at her, my fingers tapping against her arm incessantly. "Of course. You were honest to me, so I'll do the same." I took another deep breath and hung my head low, before slowly moving my eyes up to meet her's. My mouth barely opened as I whispered fearfully to her, "The pasta was awful." | She looks at me shyly, her dark brown hair falling over her face as her sapphire blue eyes peer out through the strains timidly. She does this when she's nervous. I lean forwards and push her hair off her brow so I can see her gleaming blue eyes. She smiles lightly, but there is something about her that's making me nervous... is she breaking up with me?
Dakota lets out a huge sigh and closes her eyes. I can see tear drops forming in the corners and one falls and lands on the grass. I take her hands in mine and stare at her intensely.
"Hey," I say in the gentlest voice I can muster, "What is going on?"
Dakota pulls away and turns her head so when she opens her eyes she can't see me. My empty hands fall to my sides and I begin to prepare myself for the worst. This isn't the first time I've been dumped, but it will definitely be the most painful. I hadn't told Dakota yet, but I'm falling in love with her. Deep, helpless love. If I had told her this sooner would she be feeling differently now?
"I have to tell you something..." Dakota says in a broken voice, "and it will change everything. Which sucks because I like you so much and I don't want anything to change but... this will. You will never look at me the same again."
I take in a deep breath and try to prepare myself for whatever is it she will say next. Did she cheat on me? Did she find my secret porn stash on my PC (the one I made before we started to date and forgot to delete)? Was she leaving the country? Nerves begin to tingle up and down my body and I cross my arms to try and steady myself but it's not working. My heart is beating overtime and I wish there was somewhere to sit down.
"Ok..." I say, "You know that there isn't anything you can say that will change how I feel about you right?"
Dakota laughs despite herself and flashes me a playful gaze. "That's what you think..."
"I'm getting really nervous," I confess, "Can you please just tell me?"
Dakota begins to pace, walking past the trees and underbrush of the path so swiftly that the leaves swoosh around her. She seems to be trying to find the words and I wish she would find them faster.
"Ok," she says, finally turning to me and looking me straight in the eye. "Here goes nothing... so, you know how much I care about you right Brad?" I nod as my cheeks begin to feel hot, "And because I care about you so much and respect you, you deserve to know the truth about me."
"Ok...." I say as I run certain possibilities of what she might mean through my head but I can't actually land on anything that feels real. Is she not really in high school? Is she secretly a Princess from a far away land? What the hell could it be?
"And that truth is that.... I'm a werewolf."
I let out a burst of laughter and she narrows her eyes. I couldn't help myself. Here I was thinking the worst and it's actually the most awesome thing I've ever heard. My girlfriend is a werewolf? That's amazing.
"Wow," I say, trying to steady myself so she knows I'm taking her seriously. "Ok, that's actually really cool."
"Pardon?"
"I love this!" I say, taking a few steps towards her and wrapping her in a huge hug. "I was worried you had cheated on me or something but this is... wow. I wish I could scream this from the top of a building. This is like a dream come true!" She side-eyes me and I know she's trying to figure out if I'm being serious, which I completely am.
"You really have no problem with this?" she says lightly.
"No problem!" I say, "Hell, you just became even more awesome in my eyes. This makes me love you even more."
"You love me?"
I blush and kiss her cheek lightly. "You don't have to say it back or anything, but I do love you Dakota. I've loved you since the moment I saw you. And I want to know who you are, who you truly are. It'll take more than a mythological reveal for me to leave you."
Dakota beams and throws her arms around me, kissing my face and lips. I laugh and hug her. I won't say that at this moment she's reminding me of a dog kiss attacking their loved one. I probably should avoid comparing her to a dog at all costs. She's not a dog, she's a mother-fucking werewolf!
Dakota pulls away and looks deeply into my eyes. "You know I love you too right?" she says and her words melt my heart and make me feel all weird inside, "so if you have something, anything, to tell me, I will accept you as you are." I shrug.
"Nope," I say, "Unfortunately I'm just a regular-old human. As far as I know anyway."
"Really?" Dakota says, and I can feel her suspicious air surrounding me, "You're sure you have nothing to tell me?"
"I'm sure," I say, "Well, nothing besides 'I love you more than everything.'"
\------
I awake with a start. My room is pitch black but I can feel a presence. I rub my eyes but my stupid human-grade eyes don't work very well in the dark. I sit up and look around at my darkened bedroom. I can make out the furniture, but it's just crude shapes. Nothing feels out of place but my instincts are telling me to stay alert.
Suddenly, a wave of water is tossed at me from the darkness and it reeks of garlic. I cough and choke on the smell, it's very strong, and reach over to turn on my bedside lamp. As the warm light fills the room it illuminates a very guilty looking Dakota, in full wolf form, sitting at the end of my bed. She's bigger than most wolves with long, fluffy dark and light brown fur. Her eyes are the only thing about her that is the same in or out of wolf form. I rub the garlic from my eyes and cough lightly.
"What the hell?" I say. I'm trying to be nice but I'm really uncomfortable and that wasn't cool. Dakota sniffs the air and narrows her eyes.
"You're not a vampire then?" she says, her voice slightly deeper when she's in wolf form.
"No!" I say, kinda amused but mainly uncomfortable, "I am not a vampire." She sits back on her paws, almost disappointed. "If I was, would this amount of garlic killed me?" she is taken aback by this question.
"I don't know." she says, "I don't think so."
"Oh my god Dakota," I say, mostly amused. "I am just a regular human, I promise!"
"But you accepted the whole werewolf thing so quickly," she protests, "How can you be so cool about it if you yourself aren't a creature of some kind as well?"
"Because I'm awesome?" I suggest as I pull off my covers and my top, the garlic smell is so intense that I'm beginning to feel dizzy. I wonder why the smell isn't bothering her until I see the small plugs in her nostrils. When I pull them out in a swift motion her eyes fill with tears and she begins to sneeze so loudly I'm worried she'll wake my parents and try to shove them back inside her nose. Romantic right? This was not how I thought our first time alone in a bedroom would go.
"Sorry for this," Dakota says, "But I had to be sure you weren't a vampire and I knew if you were you'd never admit it."
"Are vampires devious like that?" I say and she nods, "They are the worst of the dark creatures."
"Well," I say grabbing my towel and walking towards my bathroom, "It's a good thing I'm not one."
\------- (continued) | 2021-08-17T11:15:15 | 2021-08-17T10:06:53 | 315 | 62 |
[WP] "One day," the prince reiterated to the peasant girl. "You're fed and clothed like a princess for a day, we attend the ball and dance together, and we make just enough of a spectacle that my father won't mind so much if I go on to court a 'lower' noble. What do you say?" | The Prince looked out over the crowded hall with a sense of deep satisfaction. Scandalized nobility snuck glances at him when they thought he wasn't looking, and whispers followed him as he passed by each knot of horrified, confused courtiers. His peasant girl had done well.
Oh yes, he had been angred at first when she stepped out from the coach he had sent her. The gown he had ordered her to wear, the one carefully selected to highlight the unsuitability of his choice of paramour, had been altered into something less uncouth, and she had removed the small, cheap glass beads from the bodice to braid into her hair instead. But ultimately he quelled his ire with the knowledge that no matter how she aped her betters she could never pass as one of them. And her efforts to impress were almost touching in a way.
The prince handed his peasant off to an appalled Duke for the next dance, and intercepted his chosen lady as she passed by. The daughter of a minor noble from a newly formed but prosperous barony, the lady was breathtakingly splendid, but her family was too close to the merchantry for her to be a suitable match in normal circumstances. But then, he had taken care to change those circumstances.
He spun his lady around the hall, giddy with mirth. Come dawn his parents would happily give him permission to marry her rather than the farm animal now stumbling her way through a gravote. He congratulated himself on his cleverness.
It was not until midnight that he realized he had lost his peasant girl. His lady had occupied his every thought, and he had not noticed his "beloved" had left the hall until his father had called a halt to the music.
"My lords," the King said loudly. "Before the festivities end, We have happy news. It gives Us great... pleasure... to announce the forthcoming marriage of Our only son and heir, Prince Ludwig, to his lovely and beloved lady Hilda of, er, Lakesdowne. We hereby bestow Our blessings upon them and all children to come."
The Prince felt his heart stop. Beside him his lady pulled her hand from his arm and melted into the silent crowd with a single withering glance back.
"Come," the Queen added. "Let us end our night with a dance from Our son and his beautiful bride."
The prince moved numbly to the center of the hall. His father pulled the peasant from the shadows and placed her in his arms. As the music began he looked down into her eyes and felt a chill at the malicious amusement in them.
"You thought to use me?" she whispered as they glided around the floor. "Well, use me you did, and I've the swelling belly to prove it. I agreed to your cruel game only to get close enough to your parents to tell them of your child. Your brothers are dead and war is coming. They dare not risk you dying without an heir. I did not put on a pretty dress and affect the speech of my betters to fool anyone into thinking I'm one of you, only to make myself acceptable to the king under the circumstances."
" I will hurt you," he growled with rage. She laughed.
"Better a weak prince than strong farmer," she mocked. "Do as you like while you can. You're leaving soon. As I said, war is coming and your father is very displeased with you... I think our child and I will be very happy here." | A young woman looked at the prince befuddled. He wore a smile as if he just revealed a master planned; a *ta-dah* moment in a magic show.“It sucks,” she said.The young prince winced.
“It certainly does not! We pass you off as a princesses from a faraway land at the ball this weekend. You charm my parents as you have charmed me, and we’ll be on our way to a royal wedding. That is if we keep these good times rolling between us.”
He wrapped his arm around her petite waist.
“All we have to do is get through the party. I’ve been working on a list of questions that you might be asked during the evening. How old you are, how many troops are in your kingdom’s army, and if you will confidently birth our son.”
Sophera rolled her eyes. She never once wore high heels or sat on a seat at a banquet dinner table. Her father was a fisherman; her family lived near the docks. She mostly wore sandals and ate whatever fish she caught.
“Listen,” the prince continued. “Just pretend to be someone else for the evening. Remember Madelyn the III? How she was known for her thick redhead and reserved personality? Be her for just several hours.”
Sophera broke free from the prince’s hold.“Madelyn the III was known for weighing over 400 pounds and carrying a tea cup poodle in her handbag! She never ventured outside her own castle walls. She harnessed the political power of 3 realms at her finger tips and didn’t use them once for the working man. She’s everything I despise.”
Sophera spat on the ground. “What a waste of skin.”
“Fine my darling,” the prince said gesturing his free hands downwards as if to tell her to relax (which actually made Sophera more upset). “My point is not for you to be a princesses without purpose, but just not to be *yourself*.”
Sophera stared blankly at her boyfriend. “I’m going to give you another chance to say what you just said one more time before I leave you for the night.”
The prince sighed. “Then why don’t you tell me what you would want to do at the party? What can I do to make you comfortable?”
She shrugged. “Not attend the event I suppose.”
The prince shook his head and the two stood in silence.
“It’s not that I think your idea is bad,” Sophera began. “I think it’s a poor long term solution. The more I know your family, the more they’ll want to know about me. Eventually all the lies will catch up. Lying to the king is a serious crime. It'll get you banish from the 3 realms and send me straight to a tortuous death.”
She leaned into him and placed his arms back around her waist. “I don’t want our relationship burdened with stress caused by other people. You’re stressful enough.”
She rested her head onto his shoulder. They held another for a moment in deep thought.
Sophera’s eye widened.
“How about we flipped the script?” She said.
Now the prince looked at the young woman befuddled.
“How about *you* come over to my place for dinner as a working man? Why don’t *you* try to impress my family?”
The prince let go of his girlfriends hold and took a step backwards.“Well, I could never pass off as a —“
“Of course you can! You only have to worry about my dad and not a entire linage of royal family. He knows one thing Trenton — fishing. He knows hook sizes, reels, baits, knots, and when and where to catch the fattest sea bass. He won’t ask you any questions about whatever job we give you. In fact, he probably won’t care what you do. We can pass you off as a normal person, get married, and live an ordinary life.”
She now stared at him with a grin stretched across her face. “You're astonishingly intelligent. I'm sure you can learn how to weld a blacksmith's hammer or chop wood. What do ya say? A bit less stressful?”
The prince smiled back. He knew her plan also wasn't a long term solution. His family would search for him after 3 sunsets if he went missing. They’d deploy spies to neighboring kingdoms, investigating his imprisonment. They'd travel to the distant mountains, hiking their summits just to find a trace all while he remained hidden in a plain view. They’d wouldn’t sleep until he was returned for he was the only male left in the family and must wed a woman who would provide him a son.
But none of those racing thoughts bothered him at that moment. He looked down at his girlfriend and nodded his head.
“Sounds like a fantastic plan my dear," he kissed her forehead. "When I was young, I was curious what it would be like to be a farmer.” | 2021-08-27T15:54:55 | 2021-08-27T13:53:42 | 413 | 90 |
[WP] You don't know what you do for a living. Literally. Five days a week, you get up, get in your car, black out, and then you're back in the driveway in the afternoon. And a paycheck arrives every 2 weeks. | Andrew pulled his car into the driveway. He then paused for a moment. Pulled down the sun visor and studied his reflection in its little mirror. In it, he saw the same features that he always did. His tired eyes. His short dark hair. His neatly pressed shirt. And his tie, which was a sombre shade of navy blue.
He could remember picking it out that morning. He could remember his shower. And brushing his teeth. He could remember slipping his keys into his pocket and smelling the dew that was still sticking onto his immaculate front lawn. He could remember all of these things. And yet he could not, no matter how hard he tried, remember anything beyond the moment after he had turned the key into the ignition.
Andrew sighed. He stepped out of his car and into his house. A company house. Couldn't remember which company it was, but he was sure that it was through them that he had come to live here. It was a nice house. Modern. Luxurious. He liked that it had a pool.
Andrew was about to pour himself a stiff glass of whiskey and go for an evening swim, like he did every night after work. But just as he was pulling off his socks, he noticed something strange: the smallest, faintest, spattering of blood on the sole of his right heel. | "...I don't like it."
I stare at myself in the mirror for a while. I *look* fine. I *feel* fine.
Quite honestly, I feel... Better than I ever have.
And that's terrifying.
Finally, my shadow extends and grows, until it stands beside me - My 'guardian', or so it calls itself.
"...Don't like *what*? You look **gorgeous**." It whispers, a voice calm and soothing. So... Kind.
"...I'm scared."
"...Of..?"
"...Me. What do I not see?"
A small shiver runs up my spine as I watch my own shadow wrap it's hands around my shoulders, massaging slowly. "What you don't see..? You see everything that matters. Remember? We talked about this."
"...What...Happens?"
"You go to work."
"...Where?"
"Does it matter?"
"Y-Yes! What if someone asks me? What if... I say something? Or do something? And I need to explain what I do?! I just pass out inside of my car, and wake up with money! Th-That's not normal! I-I-"
My shadow wraps itself around me. I feel a slight pressure across my body, as it squeezes gently. Like... a hug?
"Shh...Shh...Hey...none of that. Remember? We don't need to panic. We don't need to worry. Come on. Breathe with me. Nice and slow... One...two...three... And out. One...two...three..."
I mimic the shadow. I feel myself calming, if only slightly.
"...Why-"
"Shh. Again. One...Two- Hey, listen. Stop thinking for a second, and slow down. We have time. We are safe, and we are together. Right? Just... Let yourself relax. Breathe in... And out...And in... And out..."
"...This isn't...right..."
"...Why not?"
"...It's... Not... Normal..." I mumble, struggling to maintain a coherent thought as I watch my shadow massage myself. It feels better than I'd like to admit.
"...Well, you *aren't* normal, dummy. Nobody is. Everyone is weird as hell. Doesn't make it bad."
"...N-Nobody else does this..."
"Nobody else is *you*. Alright? You're special. So, *so* special."
I crack a smile unconsciously. My shadow rustles my hair briefly, letting a small chuckle escape it's lips.
"...C'mon, dummy. Go get something to eat. You have a busy day. I suggest something sweet. You deserve it." | 2021-09-26T19:54:38 | 2021-09-26T17:02:12 | 324 | 127 |
[WP] You don't know what you do for a living. Literally. Five days a week, you get up, get in your car, black out, and then you're back in the driveway in the afternoon. And a paycheck arrives every 2 weeks. | I know I *have* a job, but I don't really know what that job is. I remember going to an interview but all I can recall is that it went well. I know that I get a good paycheck deposited directly into my checking account every other week. More than enough to live in comfort with some occasional luxuries, but not enough to be noteworthy in the eyes of my bank or tax consultant. To anyone looking at it from the outside I worked a good job that allowed me to be financially stable and stress free.
Lots of folks would just let sleeping dogs lie and, to be honest, I didn't risk rocking the boat for the first few months. Why ruin a good thing, right? As much as I wanted to let it go, I got curious and a little concerned. Money doesn't just come freely and it was hard to keep the lies consistent when folks asked about what I did for a living or where I worked.
I tried to track things that couldn't be falsified, things that *had* to exist for me to work this "job." The first thing I looked into is the company that sent me my paychecks but that quickly hit a dead end. Apparently it was a tertiary company that exclusively handled the distribution of paychecks for a bunch of of different companies. As soon as I started asking more about my own paycheck, they told me to bring in a lawyer because of client confidentiality.
Next was trying to figure out where I actually *went* every time I blacked out. Using my phone's GPS was a bust since I always woke up with it off (the running excuse being that it was a security thing, no active devices on the premises) so I figured I would make note of the mileage of my car before I blacked out and after I woke up and do some armchair detective work from there. Of course it wasn't that easy though; everyday I seemed to drive a different distance and there was no way to tell if I was going as far as possible or driving in circles and refilling my tank as needed. Without some kind of reference I couldn't determine where I was going.
I tried a few other leads, but everything was either obscured by extra layers or a lack of information. I might have kept searching, if I hadn't received a letter with no return address.
*"It has come to our attention that you may be dissatisfied with your current employment with our company. If we note continued examples of this behavior, we will send an HR representative to speak with you to determine the best course of action in regards to your future employment with our company.*
*Regards,*
*The Management."* | ...
I'm a normal person, right?
I pay my taxes, i drink coffee made from tap water, i pee while seated...
I think i only smoked **ONCE, a**nd it probably was painted hair!
The first thing that i say after waking up and drowning in a sea of *zeroes and zeroes* was, of course:
"It's either Drugs or Murder..."
"Or *both!"*
After having my daily freakout, with my sister having her daily laugh, i try to think again.
And again, and again, and **again**.
I'm doing **something***,* right?!
I feel good rested and my skin tone is the right shade of brown. Pretty *normal.*
It doesn't look life my clothes have blood or any other type of **compromising** material in there, give and take some drool I hope is mine or Sarah's.
Feeling pretty **safe** so far here, ok.
Lifting my shirt, i can only see a birthmark on my abs and- *excuse me,* *what.*
...
*I'm drowning.*
*I'm drowning and it's my spectacular abs' fault, damn it.*
While i was trying not to die out of being a sure-to-be undisclosed criminal character, i yell as loud as my brain would allow me to.
"*S-sarahh, i need youuuuu\~"*
My sister, half-laughing out of my suffering, small cry for help, answered as usual:
"Did you find the body yet? Was it Mitch?"
"No, it wasn't Mitch!"
Though it woulda made things ***so*** much easier!
"Did you know i had **abs?**"
"Yeah, pretty decent! Nice work!"
For the moment, i had to leave the "decent" rating i got, potential jail time were the priority!
After some interrogation, i learned some habits and props i picked up after work:
* After work, i would work out for a half-hour every day
* While sleeping at night, it would be much easier to wake me up, but it seems i would just say some nonsense and go to sleep
* And some days, i would use makeup, but it wasn't a constant
Now, the first two things? That could be the stress or lack of energy making me forget stuff!
I'm old enough to forget about my birthday and **ONLY** my birthday, totally normal.
But...
I am allergic to makeup.
So what the hell am i putting in my face?
...
This wasn't normal.
"Hey, can you do me a favor Sarah?
Tomorrow after school, get a camera from Mitch's, tell him to put it in the tab, ok?"
I hated to get her mixed into this but i barely go out since getting this "*job".*
But what Sarah said after made me blink twice.
"Whaaaaaat???
But Mitch said you broke too much of them, he ***barely has any left***!"
...
W-what?
But those cameras are his specialty...
The guy's swimming in them, i know that!
**I know that!**
...
That's what i repeated to myself for a couple of minutes.
And while my mind was content to be in that loop for how many years were necessary...
My eyes were watching over the trashcan...
Over ***their*** remains.
"Seems like your job don't like group photos too much, huh Sis?
...
Sis?!"
I couldn't respond nor hear her.
My face, along with my entire body, were already on a free fall towards the floor. After all this, i guess i really needed a nap, y'know...?
In what felt like hours, my mind went back to a few weeks before all this. To before the abs and the *one and zeroes.*
I went back to the street. | 2021-09-27T02:29:05 | 2021-09-26T18:08:03 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] Before receiving the serum that unlocks latent powers, subjects take a battery of tests (physical exam, DNA analysis, a VERY intrusive questionnaire, etc.) to determine their likely abilities. Your testing process drags on and on as you are sent to higher-ranking (and increasingly tense) staff. | "One more question, girl, and we'll be done for today."
"Caitlyn. My name's not "girl"." She glared through her bangs at the Interviewer. He, the looming middle aged man with the unfeeling eyes. Her, the scowling teenaged lump of acne and psoriasis. She felt anger, irritation, frustration. He felt only fear.
"Okay, Caitlyn. Tell me, why do you want PW-248?"
"That's the superpowers drug, right?"
"I believe, at this stage of the process, you are already aware that it is. Please answer the question, and *only* answer the question."
Caitlyn's scowl deepened as she threw her arms across her chest and exhaled brusquely. "I'm nothing. Nobody wants me. I'm tired of it."
"Who is it that you think doesn't want you?"
"I KNOW who doesn't want me, asshole." Caitlyn shot back, her heavyset face contorted in the briefest flash of righteous fury. "The other girls at school are bitches, they fake being friends then call me names behind my back. The boys all think I don't hear them making bets on who has to "settle" for me when it's time to get a prom date. Do you know what pig-hunting is?"
"I do not."
"Liar." Caitlyn's glare deepened. "And my parents are worse. Mom's always drunk, Dad's always horny. None of them want me there."
"Can you tell me how that relates to PW-248?"
"Use your imagination, dick."
"I'm going to need a real answer, Caitlyn, if you want to progress through these evaluations."
She laughed, a bitter cynical outburst that sounded like it was made of snapping bones. "PLEASE. You wouldn't have brought me this far, put me through... what, ten fucking tiers of evals?! If you didn't WANT me to get it. You MIB fucks don't put that much effort into someone you don't want on the crew."
She was right. She was completely right, and he knew it. "Protocol is protocol, Caitlyn. I need you to clearly state an answer. Why do you want PW-248."
"You need me to tell you I want them to see how badly they fucked up? To see I was better than them all along? To kneel at my *feet* begging forgiveness for being shitty worthless garbage bags masquerading as actual humans?"
"So, revenge? You think telling me you want revenge will convince me to give you this?" The Interviewer opened a small bag sitting on the table beside him. A syringe of red liquid, the gleaming blood gem by which pacts of power were forged.
Caitlyn slumped, sighed. "I don't want REVENGE, I just want them to... to not treat me like shit. To respect me. To.... need me."
"Well, you're not going to get that, Caitlyn. Not with this." The Interviewer put the syringe of PW-248 away, sat across from Caitlyn. "Look, kid, I'm going to level with you. Yes, you are here, now, at this tier of testing, because we want you on the team. To be one of the Prometheans."
At the name of the super team, she perked up. Eyes bright, flames of hope searing within them.
"But." the Interviewer looked grave, tense. "The data on your inner potential, the power this would unlock in you, is one that requires we be absolutely sure of your motivations. We can't risk unlocking your powerset until we know you aren't a "Going Rogue" risk.
Caitlyn leaned in close to the Interviewer, hoarse with anticipation. "What is it? Tell me! What's in me?"
The Interviewer leaned back, stone-faced. "I need to know you can take this seriously, Caitlyn."
"I swear! I will! Tell me!"
The Interviewer pulled a page from a leaflet of reports and handed it to Caitlyn. "I'm technically only supposed to show this to you once you are approved for the serum, but I think maybe it will help you to understand why we're so cautious with you. You may be more important than you ever realized."
She grabbed the report, looked it over, and grew only more confused. "I don't know what this means. "Demi-Harmonic Disruption, Aura Class, Tier Zero". What the hell kind of power is that?
"It means that, once unlocked, your inner powerset is to delete other powers. You will begin passively generating an aura of energy that disrupts the flow of demiurnal energy that powers meta-huan abilities. It can't work in your presence, at all. You will be able to shut down any super, hero or foe alike, just by being near them."
Caitlyn stared at the sheet, and began to shake. Sobs began to roll down her full cheeks. "Oh great., GREAT. So even as a SUPER I'm a freak! Who'se gonna want to hang out with the girl who TAKES THEIR POWERS AWAY?! Fucking NO ONE EVER!"
"Another way of looking at it, Caitlyn is you would be the most necessary and impactful super on the planet." The Interviewer leaned in closer to her. "Energy blasts would dissipate as soon as they enter your aura. Fliers drop to the ground, speed and strength sapped to nothing. No villain could defend against you. No hero would ever turn on their comrades, lest they live in fear of you."
Caitlyn looked up, suddenly becoming aware for the first time, of the inviting and crafty gleam in the Interviewer's eyes. "I want it."
He smiled, and pulled the syringe of PW-248 from the bag. "You'll be working directly under me, in Special Ops. Dark work, no limelight, Shadow jobs. I'll need to keep a very special eye on you."
"Because I'll be dangerous?"
"That and..." The Interviewer chuckled as he tapped Caitlyn's arm to find a vein. "Once you go online, you will become the only person on the planet who can lie to me." | ( go easy on grammar, typing from my phone may edit later)
Dan woke up practically jumping out of bed, with all the youthful exuberance of a kid on Christmas. He had been counting down the days to the 1st of the month after he turned 25. The day had finally come! He had been striking off days on his calendar and losing sleep over this for months on end. He could finally go get his shot at the Power Distribution and services bureau , the PDS.
All his friends were a little older and loved lording their abilities over him. Tanya used her pyromancy to occasionally burn down his cigarettes, and he thought she was also burning some of the hair on his neckline ever so slightly to mess with him. His buddy Thomas had a mild probability manipulation gift and now no contest to determine the next beer run was safe, nor was his balance when walking down the street.
More than once Dan yelled at his friends and threatened to report them, not that he ever would. At the very least their juvenile games made him realize why governments regulated awakening doses until after the brain was fully formed. Dan assumed it was less about actual brain development or safety and more the universal foresight of not giving powers to teenagers.
For all the little things his close group of friends could do though, Dan wondered what it would be like to be like his cousin. John was allegedly so powerful he was corpo sponsored the near instant he left the PDS. Dan never spoke to him anymore, John was out there living the life Dan could only dream of, who could blame him for not taking the calls of his lame little cousin.
Dan shower up the PDS before it even opened, the building looking slightly dilapidated and covered in dingy off color concrete, much smaller than Dan expected. He entered the building smelling the overly bleached sterilized smell and seeing the yellowing tile. The long ropes queue leadings to the boxed and glassed off counters. The place Looking less like a lab facility and more like the cross between a prison and the dmv. “I’m here for my serum “ squeaked Dan to the half still asleep receptionist.
“Please fill out form 44A and waiver 2b please” she said as she passed him a tablet.
“Done and done”, he passed stuck his bit stick into the tablet and copied the form data.
Ok stand by the wall for your ident card.
Dan stopd awkwardly trying to pose and not blink.
He saw the preview for his awful photo with his too scrunched eyes and weird choked down smile. Even the auto normalize filter on the preview couldn’t make him look normal completely. Though the ID card printed looking at least a little less awkward.
“Ok, assessment will be with you shortly please wait over there for your ID number to be called”
Dan took a seat and looked at his number 57DN8053Mar310. The flexible card didn’t have anything beside eye color, height and name yet. Once he was awoken it would be auto updated with his typing and power rating.
Time seems to drag on forever the clock taunting him with its ticks that seemed to come at long drawn out rhythms. When his Number was called he was ushered into blindingly white room with a carboglass table. A doctor placed a neural band on his head as they went through the pre filled out forms checking for accuracy. Dan started nervously tapping his foot as the doctor started typing into his tablet.
A short but curt bell rang twice, “what was that?” Dan asked
“Oh probably nothing, seems the neural band picked up a small anomaly, you will have to speak to a class c legal counsel rep before we can proceed”.
“Wait what? Why?” Dan asked
“Like I said probably nothing, just an added measure for probable awakenings beyond C scale. Anyway we have an in house one on the way, unless you want to opt out for your own.”
“Uh no that’s fine thanks”
Dan couldn’t stop letting his mind wander, potentially past class C either unique or able to effect others a good deal more than either of his friends, maybe he could even wind up sponsored like his cousin. Collect some endorsements or vigilante bounties.
Dan was so distracted he missed the lawyers opening spiel about his rights and disclosure allowances and just nodded and scanned his thumb when the lawyer passed him the tablet.
His counsel sat at the table and started thumbing through the tabs on the doctors tablet, occasionally humming and hawing the whole time.
“Well good news bad news, good news is the probability matrix barely flagged, and even then the powerscale ratings are only just above unsupervised ratings. You are likely looking at a somewhat unique power that scale wise shouldn’t make you to dangerous”.
“Ok what’s the bad news then?” Asked Dan
“Well technically we won’t know until we inject you with the serum, you could wind up unique class and danger to yourself and be put on forced isolation, you could wind up scaling enough to warrant monitoring of a myriad of different levels” said the lawyer
“Ok so what do I do”
“Oh I can’t tell you that, all I can say is because of the way the laws currently are you either take the Serum
And risk it or get exiled to a herd district”
Dan knew herd district from social studies classes. Large district exclusive to the non awakened, due the increased rate of disease, lack of environmental resistances and cellular decay ( they barely even made it to 90 yrs old) the groups had to be given special protections including added material regulations and atmosphere regulation.
“Ok ok whatever just give me the serum I’m sure it will be fine”.
The lawyer nodded and tapped on his tablet until the doctor returned, syringe in hand and a 8ft armored escort in tow.
Dan offered his arm and grimaced as the needle penetrated it. His clenching jaw didn’t loosen as he quickly felt his body heat up, the bones inside his body felt like they were becoming hot the cold then liquid. His eye balls felt like they were about to explode even as his heart felt like it wasn’t beating at all. Then with a loud yell Dan fainted.
When he woke up he was strapped into a bed by large metal bands.
“Oh good your awake, thought I was going to have to wait here forever” said his lawyer, half mumbling something else under his breath and clearly annoyed.
“Bad news kid, projections were right but the probability matrix wasn’t able to asses the threat you present post awakening”
Dan’s eyes were wide open in terror his mouth still numb “ wai wuss wass mean”
“Well it means that although you have the fundamental right to bear arms via awakened abilities and a lesser right to privacy you pose such a safety interest that the government has no choice but to infringe those rights permanently. You see you have some sort of micro telekinesis, apparently strong enough and small enough to Rend and smash atoms themselves. Seems you can move them telekinetically by will and since whether conscious or unconscious that sort of ability is just too dangerous… well it leaves you somewhere between extremely screwed and oblivion”
Dan couldn’t even yell or scream as he glanced at tne IV into his arm and the numbness from his mouth spread throughout his body. It started paralyzing every neuron firing. As he started losing consciousness the lawyer said one last thing in passing.
“We’ll best of luck, don’t know if they will even keep your Brain active for trial but hey maybe they can dampen you enough to not force execution, I mean I doubt it, huge waste of resources custom gene job like that would be but who knows” | 2021-10-29T15:18:08 | 2021-10-29T12:35:13 | 1,466 | 166 |
[WP] You are kidnapped by three female vampires who claim that they're your wife and two daughters from your past life, who miss you and have been searching for your reincarnation for a hundred years, so that you can be a family again. | I could see them, my captor and two others, just outside the unfamiliar vehicle she had trapped me in. I had been stuffed in the trunk first, but managed to force my way between the back seats, causing her to quickly stop the car and get out. She had been joined by the two new figures and now we stared at each other through the windows. They looked like humans but their eyes glinted like cats’ in the moonlight. The interior of the car was drenched in their scent, the sweet flowery smells that my Becca liked mixed something twisted and stale. I bared my teeth and growled a threat but instead of being frightened, they continued to talk amongst themselves.
`***`
“You are certain it is him?” There was cold skepticism in the woman’s tone. She was the eldest of the three and radiated an aura of dominance.
“Yes, the ritual has never failed before.” One of the younger women, this one wearing a veil, looked back toward the car as she spoke. “Perhaps his understanding is limited by his form.”
All three watched as the Jack Russell growled at them before attempting once more to break out of the car.
The elder woman approached the window.
“Victor. It is I, your wife, and your beloved daughters. Do you not-“ she was interrupted by a sharp bark and more growling. She continued determinedly, “Even though you are a beast, our spirits are bound. It has taken centuries to find you but we are finally reunited. Please, Victor, hear me.”
The small dog’s ears perked up a little, coming forward as if he was considering her words. His dark eyes met hers and for a moment she could almost recognize the man again, her husband, her love. But the tension was cut as he flashed his teeth again and resumed barking.
The woman sighed and turned to address the younger two. “Ritual or no, I refuse to trap him in that form for eternity. We will perform the rites again when the cycle advances.”
The second of the two daughters, this one without a veil and dressed in more modern clothes, looked dismayed. “Mother, what are we to do with him?”
“You found him in the care of a girl, yes? Return him to her and watch them, let no harm come to either.” She turned once more to the car and placed a hand on the window. “We will come for you again, my love, when the time is right.”
The only response was more furious barking as she vanished into the night, followed by the woman in the veil.
The remaining daughter, who happened to be the one who had captured him in the first place, put one hand on her hip as she considered her situation. Dropping him back in the yard would be easy. Getting inside the car was going to prove more of a challenge. | You know, I've always had a troubled relationship with the nightahift. On one hand, most everyone was asleep, brass and politicians up at city hall especially, which made my job all the more easier. On the other, something about the night always brought out the crazies, and I can't say how many times I've been stuck, bit, or God knows what else. Like today for instance, one moment, I was walking my beat, thinking about stopping in a Bodega or diner to grab a cup of Joe, maybe a bite to eat too, not like it was a busy night anyway, and I'd been having trouble sleeping because my neighbors in my apartment building are up to god knows what.
Anyway, that's when I heard someone cry for help, from this real dark alleyway, you know, the kind you walk by and know some homeless dude is doing crack down at the end behind the dumpster and fire escape. Well, I figured seeing as it was my job, being a cop and all, It was up to me to go check it out. So, I pull out my flashlight and click it on, calling back out to the girl.
"Police! Are you alright? Can you move? Step out towards me if you can."
Now, this wasn't the roughest neighborhood I've seen, but you never know when someone is trying to get one over on you, so I was a bit cautious when I stepped into the alleyway, kicking away a broken down box that would definitely had me on my ass had I tried to run back out the alleyway. The girl didn't do much more than call back towards me, which should have been another red flag, but hey hindsights 20/20.
"Officer? I need help, I can't move my leg, please help me."
That should have been my first clue to get lost, she was surprisingly calm about the whole thing, at the time I didn't know what to make of it, getting closer and closer to where I thought the girl was. That's where I don't remember anything else, and when I came to, I wasn't face down in a pool of my own blood, which was a relief. I was however, handcuffed to a chair, facing three very pale women, all with coal black hair, and eyes that were like something out of a movie or TV show, red, as in the iris, and not in the bloodshot on drugs sort of way.
"He's awake."
I heard the one on the left say. She looked the youngest, and was by far the shortest, couldn't have even been more than 13 or 14. The one on the right, was the next oldest, about 17 or 18, with her hair back in a braid.
"Shh... let mother handle him"
That left the one in the middle, who looked only a little older than I, but no way in hell old enough to be their mother, and while they were all dressed a little... odd, she was also the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on... who was unfortunately probably the last woman I'd ever see, or so I thought.
"I've finally found you... my beloved Giaus"
Normally, a beautiful woman expressing affection for me wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but my name wasn't Giaus, it was Thomas. That didn't seem to stop the ladies as they rushed towards me, and hugged me, with the two younger ones saying
"Father, we finally found you!"
Now I wasn't a fresh faced rookie out of the academy, but I wasn't by any means old enough to be either of their father. A fact I pointed out to them.
"Listen ladies, I think you got the wrong guy here, my names Thomas, and holding me like-"
I was cut off by the middle woman, shushed me with a finger to my lips, and a bemused look. The other two looked like they were in on the joke too, that I was the only one who didn't understand what was going on.
"Hush now my dear, the girls and I will explain everything in time. First, though, we'll get you out of these restraints, then you listen to what we have to say."
All I could do was nod, as one final thing dawned on me, their mouths all had a set of fangs... | 2021-11-05T10:35:37 | 2021-11-05T08:48:55 | 41 | 30 |
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that’s when you realize you’ve been dating a dragon in human form. | Steel wedding rings. She insisted on them, rather than the traditional gold. When I suggested even 10k rings, less than half purity, she frowned and said no.
A few times I bought her jewelry, and she always thanked me, but never wore it. After a while I learned to just get her flowers, which she loved. She never wore any jewelry at all, no necklaces, bracelets, pendants, nothing except the steel ring. I asked her why she only wanted steel, and she said it was because it was man-made, showing our human connection. I accepted that.
She was always vague about her past, but did mention growing up in mountains and, as she put it, "wild places". We often went hiking and backpacking, and when we got away from cities, she seemed to glow with an inner fire. Her smile, her eyes, would light up when seeing mountains. I loved that about her.
One day though, we were at home, or at least I was. She'd gone off grocery shopping. I had to get something from the basement. While there, in the far corner I saw a tarp covering some old cardboard boxes. I didn't recognize them so went to take a look.
And... all the jewelry I'd bought her? It was there. Along with a LOT of gold and precious gems. Boxes and boxes of them, neatly sorted by color, shape, size. I was dumbfounded. She'd never expressed any interest in this to me, what was all this?
I took one of the lighter boxes, containing only gems, upstairs and opened it on the table, I was marveling at the sheer variety of them when I heard the car door slam, she was home.
"Hi honey", she said, carrying in the groceries. "I got your favorite..." she trailed off, seeing the box of gems. Unbidden, the groceries slid out of her arms, crashing to the floor. She looked at me with eyes of fire. Slowly, from her back extended wings, as a tendril of smoke escaped her nose.
Yet quietly, calmly, and with steel grace, she asked me what I was doing with her hoard.
I took off the steel ring and with my own fiery eyes, reminded her that it was our hoard. After all, we lived in a community property state. | "Honey ! Where is my guitar's cable ?" I shouted from downstairs. "Where should I know ?" Check the basement !" she shouted back. She was the one who asked me to play some songs for her... Well, I do everything for the love of my life.
I stock everything in the basement... My guitar equipments, dead pc components, different types of cables etc etc... I got a little bit angry because I couldn't find the cable, and kicked a big box right next to the wall... Box destroyed and I've found something like a little door that goes down further. I didn't do this... What the hell is this ??
With the help of my phone's flashlight and a baseball bat, I went down. Slowly but surely. Anything could appear in front of me there. Bug, mouse, spider, bat... That's why I took the baseball bat. As I walked forward, that tunnel growed bigger... When I reached the end of it... That was the biggest shock of my entire life... Golds, gems, trinkets... Full of that stuff... Worth maybe tens of millions !
"Holy shit !" I screamed. I had to tell this to Eula, surely she'll be extremely happy with what I've found. Turns out, she was not happy about it. When I looked back, she was staring at me with fire in her eyes...
"Eula... Your eyes..." I only could say... "It seems like you've found out my secret, love." she replied. "What are you talking about baby, what the hell is going on here ?" I asked. "Let's just sit down, and let me explain, I hope you'll still love me after I confess" she said...
When we sat down, the light was out because my phone was dead. But there was a light. No actually fire, coming out from her eyes... "Allow me" she said and fired some torches with her breath... Again, I said "Holy shit !"
"As you can guess love. I'm a dragon. I have fire breath to prove it" she said. "And this stash you've found, it's my horde." she continued. "Why didn't you tell me in the first place ?" I asked. "Tell and let the love of my life run away from me ?" She replied.
She sounded reasonable, and I didn't want to question her anymore. She is the love of my life... Doesn't matter if she's a dragon, or a vampire or something else it doesn't matter because I'm in love with her.
She really cried as I told these to her. Gave me a big hug... "So... I guess we need to add one more house rule" she said while giggling. "What is it ?" I asked. "No touching my horde" she replied. While laughing, "You know, our ps4 started to wear off... If you buy a ps5 for us, I promise I won't touch it" I said. "Stop being an asshole" she giggled and playfully hit my shoulder couple of times. "Fine, you got the bargain" she continued.
"And by the way, I'm very possessive with my horde. And you are; part of my horde. You are my horde's most precious gem... I'll be more possessive of you" she said. "I'm all yours, baby." I replied.
As our evening continued, I've found my guitar cable and played her favorite songs for her, sang with her together.
That's how I learned she's a dragon. Completely by accident. What is so special about today ? Why I'm telling this ? Because, I'm marrying with that dragon girl tonight... | 2022-09-10T12:08:01 | 2022-09-10T12:03:51 | 45 | 30 |
[WP] You're a vampire hunter. However, upon finally being accepted into the Hunter's Guild, you realize something. All the other hunters are unwilling vampires who want revenge against the one who bit them, and they want to know what YOUR reason for hunting is, seeing as you're only human. | "*All of you?*" the newly initiated vampire hunter hissed as he looked around at his fellow slayers.
"We didn't ask to be vampires," the... *vampire* vampire hunter before him said. "*None* of us. It is a curse, a blight upon our hearts."
"But why do you hunt your own kind?" the human continued, hand on the hilt of his sword.
"They're *not* our kind, Rhodri," the vampire protested. "No more than the worst human criminals are your kind. And... we think that we can kill the Elder - the progenitor of vampirekind - that our curse might be broken. That we might turn... normal again." He looked down at his pale hands with palpable disgust, the black veins visible through his skin a constant reminder of his bleak situation.
"We just want to return to our lives. Our families," the vampire said gently.
"You're still vampires. You drink human blood. "
"Only as much as we need! Only from the willing, for money! And we never, *ever*, kill!" the vampire yelled.
The human relaxed his posture, finally releasing his sword. "Good," he said. "The Elder vampire is... he must be stopped. And if you're with me, that is more than enough for me."
"Why do *you* hunt him? We all share a reason, but you, a human, unspoiled by the blight - why do you?" the vampire tilted his head. The human looked down.
"My sister. Glynis. He... he bit my sister."
"I'm sorry."
The human extended his hand towards the vampire. The two nodded slightly as they shook hands.
"Good hunting," Rhodri said. "And when this is done, when he is dead, burned, his ashes scattered to the wind... if you're still vampires..."
The vampire looked up at the human.
"I won't hesitate for a *second* to drive a stake through every single one of you, drop you where you stand," Rhodri smiled. "Same way I did Glynis. Because *you are monsters*." | # Soulmage
**"Not all hunters seek to kill their quarry,"** I explained. "For instance, you do not seek to kill me."
That was up for debate, considering that Silver On His Soul had pinned me against the wall, fangs bared, with three of his cronies in the alley behind the Hunters' Guild. But hey, if they wanted me dead, things were about to devolve beyond the point of words either way.
"You speak swiftly," Silver hissed. "As mortals do. *We* are mortal no longer, thanks to the threat our order exists to eliminate. Claiming otherwise is an insult to the generations of souls twisted by the Oldest Horror."
"I am not your order," I said. "I simply wish to train with it."
"For what reason?" Silver tightened his grip on my neck; I wove a spell of freedom to draw air into my lungs. If the vampire hunters noticed my spell, they didn't show it. "You have no vengeance to pursue against the Eldest Race—so what right do you have to learn our trade?"
"I want to *find* a vampire. Not to slay him. Your order knows many secrets of tracking that I do not."
"Secrets which would be ruined if they reached the wrong ears," Silver hissed.
"I swore the same oaths that you all did, enforced by magic and memory. I am incapable of spreading those secrets."
"You claim so, yet you wield magics from wintry peaks whose comprehension we lack," Silver growled. "All things end: this truth is writ in the bones of the world. Who can say if the oaths you have taken are sufficient to bind you?"
Well, he had a point there. I was no master of magic, but I'd had a formal education and a trial by fire that gave me a breadth and depth of comprehension beyond the relatively narrowly-focused Hunter's guild. The constructs of memory in my soul were rotated into dimensions that most would find inaccessible, but I could easily deconstruct the oath-spell with a few moments of concentration. "If there is nothing I can say that would change your mind," I said, "we may as well skip to the part where you try to kill me."
Perhaps it was something in my tone of voice, or perhaps the vampire hunters really were that afraid of my foreign magics, because it was that of all things that got Silver to set me down.
"Give us your stakes," Silver said, and for a heartbeat I thought he meant the weapons. He must have realized the ambiguity too, because he clarified, "What drives you to seek out the secrets of tracking so badly?"
Ah. "A very short time ago... a vampire spoke four things to me. Four sentences that upended my life." I narrowed my eyes. "With everything I have learned between then and now, I would *very* much like to speak with him again."
Silver regarded me beneath a cold, pale moon.
Then he stepped aside.
"You will be watched," he warned. "But you will learn to watch just as well."
I stepped out of the alleyway, to where the Hunters' guild loomed.
Then I opened the door and stepped within.
A.N.
Been a bit busy with NaNo, but this prompt tickled my fancy. This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Catch up on the rest [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or check out r/bubblewriters for more! | 2022-11-10T13:19:13 | 2022-11-10T11:36:46 | 749 | 375 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | 100 people. Who can conquer the world first. I was never lucky. I only won one thing in my entire life and that was a large stuffed bear in a raffle 4 people entered. We were given an hour to consider, then they gave their boons.
Immortality was gone. Persuasion too. Self multiplication. Material conversion. Super intellect. No one chose the basic ones. The stakes were too high. The winner would herald in a new age for humanity. The losers would be dead or villianized. Luck manipution went close to 90. I didn't pay attention. No one would take mine.
"100. What do you choose?" The orb said.
"Second place." I replied.
"Explain."
"I want to be the second best at everything."
The screens with the other 99 errupted with discussion.
The orb began pulsing. Asking if this was to be allowed. It hummed, and gave the blue light of bestowal.
I felt it. I wasn't as smart as 05. I wasn't as persuasive as 9. I wasn't as tactical as 21. I wasn't as good of an imitator as 57. I was close though. They called me Jack of All. And in the end, I wasn't second. I was first. | "Welcome to the Super Powers Depot, what can i do for you?" The clerk never looked up from their smart device. They couldn't be any more disinterested in the task at hand yet were still complying with the bare essentials of the minimum wage day laborer.
"My name's John. I was chosen to come pick out a free super power..."
"...yeah, we got a few left over. You want the spaghetti hands?"
"I'm sorry, i said, super powers."
"Yeah, being able to make ones own dinner let alone a constant stream of spaghetti based dishes is a super power. You don't like ending world hunger one bowl at a time?"
"I guess that's not so bad when you put it like that but i was thinking something...more helpful to others."
"You're right, ending world hunger helps no one John. How about the ability to choose where you want to go to eat no matter who you're talking to and the choice you make is always 100 percent agreeable for everyone involved?" The clerk looked up from their device. The pain on their face was unmistakable. They were locked between too many choices on where to order food from. Stuck in an endless scroll on a food ordering app.
The clerk thought that seeing a picture of the food he desired would help but, nothing struck them as looking delicious. Nothing could satisfy the unknowable cravings of his stomach.
"My god, how long have you been stuck like this?" John took the smart device from in front of the clerk and began the most important scroll of his life. And then the doubt creeped in. "Wait, you haven't given me my powers yet. I don't know you or what you like; what your allergies are; spice preference? I don't...i can't make this decision...i just--it's impossible."
The clerk fell to their knees behind the counter. Hunger pangs starting to bang against their stomach lining like a heavy metal drummer taking over the song. They were able to weakly get a few words out. "The power...is in you. It has been...all...along."
John gazed upon the smart device once more and the decision immediately came to mind. "How bout this one?"
John laid the phone down on the counter and the clerk slowly stood back up. Tears began to stream down their face. "It's perfect. The balance of sides to entrees; the prices are all within a reasonable stretch of my budget. Thank you." The clerk was finally able to place their order.
As super powered beings put on impressive displays of power, over the years they drop to their knees and one by one they succumb to the only one capable of running the world. The only person who was capable of making the toughest decisions and saving everyone from the cold, bitter realm that is hunger. The one who brings salvation from starvation in any given situation: John. | 2022-11-17T08:01:45 | 2022-11-17T07:26:44 | 63 | 14 |
[WP] A man lies on his deathbed, memories of his favorite videogames flashing before his eyes as he expires. Death watches, and intrigued, offers the man a deal if he can best him at his game of choice. | 'Do you do this often?' asked Frank, somewhat bemused. 'YES, IN FACT I JUST HAD A LOVELY GAME OF CHESS WITH A TEMPLAR KNIGHT.' replied Death.
'You... have a slightly different, uh, perspective on time from me, don't you?'
'I SUPPOSE SO.'
'Yeah. Ok, well the deal is quite tempting, another go at life in a younger body...'
'SO YOU ACCEPT MY CHALLENGE?'
Frank sighed, 'I just don't think that my favourite game really works for this challenge.'
'WHY NOT?'
'Well, you can't really WIN at Minecraft...'
Death sighed,' LOOK, LET'S JUST GET STARTED. WE'LL FIGURE SOMETHING OUT.'
Some time later...
Frank leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, 'Can I PLEASE move to the afterlife, seriously, I forfeit.'
'COME NOW, JUST ANOTHER SHORT WHILE', replied the Reaper, hunched over a monitor clicking furiously, 'I NEARLY HAVE ENOUGH OBSIDIAN TO BUILD A SCALE REPLICA OF MY HOUSE.'
'Don't you have a job to do? No one can die if you're here fucking about!' snapped Frank irritably.
'IT'S ONLY BEEN A SHORT WHILE.', sighed Death. 'It's been 200 fucking years!', wailed Frank.
| "... and that is the deal. Do you accept these terms?" said the black cloaked man. "I have a few terms of my own, if this is going to be a fair challenge." I replied, thinking fondly of a particular game. "Very well. Let's hear them." was the answer of my final challenger. "First, I want the reflexes and form I had in my prime. I know the reflexes of an old man can't compare to that of a being of your nature." The visitor laughs and nods "If you're so concerned about fairness, you and I will have the same reflexes and reaction times. The only difference between us will be the choices we make in the game. Do you have any other conditions?" I smirk and nod "We need certain specialized hardware. I would prefer the arcade version, but so long as we use a certain kind of controller, I'm ok with any version that was released." I state, thinking of the hardware I desired to use in the challenge. Not long after I see the arcade cabinet and it's seats form in front of me. "Done. There is nothing I can't procure for the sake of a challenge. Anything else?" "I'd like an hour to practice and prepare. You may want to do so as well. That is the last of my requests." He points to the machine with a long and bony finger "Go on then."
I sit at the machine and smile. I never got to play the arcade version of this before. I never even got to use the twin sticks. I press start and begin to play. I clear the game three times before the hour is up, and the challenge has begun. He chooses Specineff. The irony is not lost on me and I make mention of it. "What can I tell you, breif mortal? I have excellent taste." is the reaper's response. My choice is Temjin. The game loads and soon the words "Ready" appear on the screen. And then we play. In the first round I make short work of him. In the second round he uses the 13 second death countdown and defeats me. The last round is the most intense game i've ever played. It goes down to the last second and I find my Virtuaroid standing over the exploding pile of scrap that is my foe. I'm shocked and more afraid then i've ever been now than when I was playing. I never expected or even wanted to win, I just only wanted to play Virtual On: Oratorio Tangram ,my favorite game, one last time before it was over.
"Well played. Until next time." my challenger spoke before he and the game fade away, and I find myself back in my hospital room, sitting up, doctors around me with looks of shock and relief on their faces. | 2014-08-16T10:33:53 | 2014-08-16T10:12:32 | 157 | 34 |
[WP] It is the end of days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead. | I reclined in the dark room, feet up on the table.
The chair was hard wood but I was too deep in the bottle to care. I puffed on my cigar, the feint orange flicker competing against navy light filtering into the room through the window.
It was completely quiet with nobody else left on earth. I was gonna miss those crazy bastards. Good or evil, I didn't discriminate. They were all people and they all would come to meet me eventually, and as I took their hands and walked them into their future I got to experience their lives. Each one a rush. Some lives are of course more interesting than others, but I've never met someone who was a complete bore.
Today, however, things were different. I was about to experience the most exciting lives of all. The longest, the fullest, the deepest. It would be unlike anything I've ever had. I knew they'd come. All I had to do was wait.
A cold night breeze hissed against the windows, lightly shaking the leafless tree outside.
I flicked my cigar ashes onto the floorboards as I heard the door knob jiggle and someone walked in. I sat calmly with my back to them.
"You must be the last of them. The last mortal soul left on this earth. Lonely yet?"
I took a deep puff of the cigar and smiled. What a pompous bitch he could be.
His foot steps stomped across the wooden floorboards as he came up behind me.
"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" he sneered, I could feel his eyes on the back of my head.
"Ain't nothin' to say to you." I growled back. I took a sip of the whisky from my glass. We're two thirds of the way to a party. I knew he'd show up soon.
Lucifer stepped around the table in front of me, his face was hard and his skin grainy. Aged but without wrinkles. His hair was salt and pepper with a cropped goatee and a constant shit-eating grin. He slid out a chair, turned it around and sat spread-legged leaning his arms on the back of it staring at me.
"It's okay, he'll be showing up soon and we'll have a chat, with, or without you."
I chuckled but remained silent.
The lights flickered on, casting a warm amber glow through the saloon. The decorative candle lamps lit up, and there he was, standing at the other side of the table beside Lucifer. He sure liked to make an entrance.
"Lucifer." he said as a matter of greeting, but it was empty, purely business.
"Let's get down to it, so we finally found the last of them, and it looks like he's pretty much walked the knife's edge. He ain't yours and he ain't mine yet. What are we gonna do with him?"
God turned and stared into his face.
"If he has not sinned, then he belongs to me."
"I wouldn't say that. His soul's got stains just none so dark that I can take an in arguable claim, but that don't mean I'm about to let him prance off through them fucking pearly gates. You're gonna have to give me a good reason not to drag his ass down with me."
His hand rested lightly over a dark metal revolver on his belt.
Gods eyes looked down to his hand, then up into his eyes.
"They are all my children until I cast them out for their evils. It is not your place to claim them, it is my place to decide whether or not I forgive them." His voice came out powerfully, as a proclamation. It was deep, rich, and soulful. You felt it resonating in your chest. It could make you feel safe or terribly afraid, like a father.
But me, I had no reason to feel either.
"He's done murder, I can see that on his soul. That makes him mine." Lucifer sneered in his grating voice.
"Maybe he can explain himself. What have you to say for this?" God turned his gaze upon me again.
I inspected the tip of my cigar, watching the smoke curl up from it.
"Yeah, I've killed. I've killed more than I can count. And I liked it."
Lucifer smiled a great, big, shit-eating smile, bearing all his unnaturally white teeth. "He's mine." his thumb popped the button on his gun holster and his fingers started to curl around the grip.
"But I killed because I had to." I said, with a grin.
I watched him squirm. Lines formed in his face.
God gazed at me, trying to see through me, but he couldn't, and he was clearly perplexed, but said nothing of it.
"For what reasons did you kill that I should not forsake your soul to damnation?" he commanded. He was clearly losing his passive desire to defend me.
"Everyone's gotta die..." I said. I looked past the smoke, connecting my eyes with his, waiting to see how he would respond.
He wasn't happy, that's for sure. "Child, I cannot protect you unless you can prove that your murders were done for a just reason. Now please explain yourself."
"He's got nothing to say." Lucifer sneered, unholstering his gun. "Just let me take him."
"Not yet. I WILL know why he has murdered. Child I will not ask again. Give me good reason for why you have killed your brothers and sisters, my children, or I will send you to hell myself."
I chuckled again. "You will try."
I flicked the cigar at him, it spun through the air and bounced against his white vest, spraying an ashy mark along his pristine clothes. He reached behind his back and pulled his lever-action rifle from behind his back.
Lucifer's arm raised up with the revolver.
I kicked the table up, my chair tipped backwards and I fell down as I heard two gunshots explode into the wooden table in front of me, spraying wood chips into the air.
As my chair hit the ground I rolled backwards, pulling the two revolvers from my side-holsters and landed kneeling.
The wooden table burst into flame and appeared as ashes on the ground, behind it stood Lucifer in his black, muddied garb, eyes full of hatred and rage, and God to his side in his all white, eyes full of wrath and vengeance.
I looked back at them, smiled.
Bang, bang.
Their eyes both went wide. They looked down in unison. Clearly, mortal pain was a new experience to them. God fell forward, onto his knees. Lucifer collapsed onto his back.
I walked forward, my boots clunking heavily on the wooden floor.
"How?" Lucifer sneered, smoke raising up from his mouth.
"Why?" God asked, the lights in the room began to flicker.
"Because everyone's gotta die..." I told them both.
I walked up and smiled looking down at them.
"Let me show you the way." I reached down and grabbed both their hands, and felt a rush as the universe itself exploded into life within my mind, and I saw everything that ever was. | (not completely the prompt but eh close enough)
It is a common misconception that God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and the one and only ruler of the universe. It may seem like that to a mere mortal living on Earth’s surface, but in reality there are many deities that coexist with the one great benevolent being. Satan, for one example, that many people are familiar of. The ruler of Hell, temptress of all that is impure. He rivals God in power, and it is for that reason many bow down to him instead; it isn’t that God gave you free will, but that God has no power over evil. God is only light, Satan is the Prince of Darkness.
But between those two is one more being, that many don’t realize exists. He is the gatekeeper to the afterworld, the one that collects the souls of the deceased and transports them as fit. He is neither good nor evil, and instead simply exists to do his job. He is Death, and his responsibility belongs to the caretaking of the lost souls, of the atheist, the ones who are neither good nor evil enough to live with God or Satan. He is the one who presides over most souls, and this deity, Death, is me.
It is a repetitive lifestyle, to run around and collect the souls of the dead all day, every day. I am unfortunately the one stuck with the job, as God is too busy maintaining the visible world and Satan cares not for those that do not follow him. It is a repetitive lifestyle, but I am used to it. I have met many lovely souls on my journey, more that God or Satan could ever wish to know. I’ve talked with them one on one, every single one of them, to discuss the matters of the afterworld. I tell them about Heaven, and Hell, and which I believe they should preside in for eternity, as another misconception is that Hell is a place of pain and torture; it is not, in fact, but is just the dominion of Satan, where everyone is evil and self serving and plays to get an upper hand. It is nothing more than a brutal lifestyle, but some enjoy such an environment. Heaven too, on the other hand, is much different than people think. It is a wonderful place and everyone is happy, but I find many who end up there lose a sense of self. With all the bad that Satan had instilled in them gone, they seem to be nothing more than unintelligent shells of their old selves spending eternity in ignorant bliss. But regardless, some enjoy such an environment.
Then there are those that don’t prefer either Heaven or Hell. They live in what many call Limbo, with me. Although unlike the common definition of being between life and death, it is more a place between Heaven and Hell; you are, after all, still completely dead. Here I just allow people to live as they want, I was never a fan of big rules. Limbo looks a lot like life, it is just much more vast. There is a collection of trillions and quadrillions and septillions of souls all throughout Limbo, and infinite amount of space that one could explore. It is, in my opinion, the best place to live for the most people and in being so houses the largest population. Under my command I have more souls than God or Satan combined. They are not the pure, the nicest, and the most caring. Nor are they the tainted, the craftiest, the most narcissistic. They are nothing more than the most numerous.
When the final soul was captured, things were fine for a while. However, in hindsight it should have been obvious it wasn’t going to last. Not long after into eternity, the people of Hell got rowdy. Instilled in them was a strong sense of Greed and Envy, and with it they longed for the planes of Heaven and Limbo. They wanted all of the Afterworld for themselves, and they were ready to take it by force if need be.
I advised my people to stay out of it at first. As for God, he obviously felt he could not stand aside and allow such evil to try to obtain more power. He couldn’t settle for a defensive tactic only. With his inflated sense of Righteousness, he and his people fought strongly against the beings of Hell. God’s angels fought against Satan’s demons. The war between Light and Darkness roared on, and I stood on the sidelines and watched.
Some of my people protested against doing nothing. I felt no obligation to hold onto them, and allowed them to join whatever side they desired, if they so chose. I just felt that this was not my battle to fight; if Satan wanted to claim Limbo for himself, I would defend, but there was nothing instilled in me that propelled me to fight for Good or Bad. As long as they were locked onto each other, I felt, I would come under no attack.
The fighting went on for millenniums. Sometimes one side gained or lost a little ground, but it was overall a complete stalemate. This was the afterworld, there was no such thing as a loss of life; if one being felt too broken, it retreated to get repaired, and then came back to fight once again. With almost an equal population, the battle was destined to go on forever.
When I conducted a meeting with God and Satan I did not intend for the outcome. I had only shown up as a mediator, to make sure everything went smoothly and fairly. The result was more than I would have ever guessed would happen.
The conference was conducted in my plane, Limbo, to avoid even more bias. With the two deities in the room, I locked the door.
“You both know why you’re here. As I have no part in this, I shall give no input. I will only act as a mediator in case of foul play.”
A smirk came across the Devil’s face. “Don’t worry, I have nothing up my sleeve in here. I promise, I’m just here to talk.”
“It is better to always be cautious,” God replied.
They argued and debated for days, weeks maybe. A consensus could not be reached. Satan demanded more power, but God refused to give up any. When one asked for something, the other refused. With a push, came another push in the opposite direction. There was as much a stalemate in the room as there was on the battlefield. Nothing was getting done, and tension was building higher and higher between the being of Good and the vessel of Evil.
Satan, unsurprisingly, snapped first. He reeled back and attacked, all at once. In the commotion I hid, still determined not to take a side.
It was a sight to see. Light and Dark danced among each other, each trying to consume the other. Chaos encompassed the entire visible field. Souls fought amongst each other, looking like ants among the disarray caused by the two deities. Explosive forces came from both sides, ramming into each other over and over again, trying with all their might to take over the other. The battle went on for ages and in the end, there was nothing.
It wasn’t that God and Satan had defeated the other, but that both had expended all of their powers in an attempt. Everything that they had held was now expelled into the void, losing itself in the empty space, mixing and twisting with each other in a contorted dance among the tattered beings that once held them. There was no more Good and Bad, Light and Darkness, Righteousness and Evil. There was only Limbo.
God and Satan are no more, I have turned them into nothing but ordinary souls. I have not completely stripped them of all power, though. They now sit with me in my chamber and act as my advisors; I was never much of a ruler, but with no one else the task is left to me. I do try my best, but I am new to holding all the power of the Afterworld. It is unavoidable that I make a few mistakes. But who knows, maybe after a few millenniums I will get used to my position. Maybe I can create a new world, allow those who want to return to mortal life another chance at it. I’ll also make new souls to populate this world, and we can try the universe all over again. There will be Good, and there will be Bad. There will be Light, Darkness, Righteousness and Evil. But, they will live in a perpetual balance, and there will be no need to segregate the two, because a world needs both, a universe needs both, every plane of existence needs a balance of both. I am Death, and I am the sole ruler of the Afterworld. | 2015-10-19T13:01:34 | 2015-10-19T12:53:02 | 1,159 | 36 |
[WP] All doctors must carry a staff. The staff must be hand carved by the doctor, and for every patient a doctor can't treat they lose an inch off their staff. When a staff is gone, so is their license.
X-post from /r/crazyideas and /u/BrassDidgeStrings | She bent over and lifted a beautiful, pale, wooden staff from under the operating table. Her scrubs were soaked in blood and sweat, chemicals and tears. It was only Doctor Silvia Nite and her most recent patient. The room was quiet. In her gloved hand the staff carved with great care years ago as a bright eyed medical student shimmered. It always shimmered in the presence of the dead, injured or sick, like a beacon to guide the doctor towards those in need… or to those they had failed.
“I’m sorry” She said as she reached for a scalpel. This was tradition. This was law. For every failure a doctor took an inch off their staff. It was a painful experience for most. The staff was the embodiment of the Doctor’s skill. The longer the staff the better the doctor was the common saying. It was so much more than that. Most doctors worked in safe specialties, where only a handful of failures might happen over a long and wealthy career. The truly great doctors were the ones who would risk their career because saving lives mattered far more.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I did all I could… “She was so tired. She’d been operating for nearly 14 hours. “Your name… Your name is… was Matilda Twine. 8 years old… your mom said you loved fire trucks, ponies and the color purple. “Silvia managed a small smile “You were very brave…”
A true doctor never feared losing their staff. They only feared failing a patient.
She turned her staff around, taking the scalpel and inhaling deeply. With a sharp, precise slice one inch of her staff fell onto the operating table. Silvia folded the small piece of herself into the little girl’s lifeless hand and set her staff to the side. “Can you forgive me?” She asked the little girl.
In the quiet room, Silvia’s pale staff rattled, a new vine emerging from the cut base, twining up and around, adding more than an inch in length. Silvia removed her gloves to wipe the tears from her eyes. She laughed softly “Thank you.”
From the top of the staff, a flower had bloomed. It’s petals a beautiful deep purple.
((First time writing for a prompt. ))
edit: oh wow so many comments thank you all! And reddit gold! thank you /u/AdmiralBiscuit ! | The law created inefficiency, but laws often did. Medical school still lasted four years. Residency another four to six after that. But now, while studying for the board , each doctor spends a year carving their professional staff. The law didn't specify how long the staff could be - just that every death would cost an inch and when you ran out of wood, it was time to retire.
"How much more do you have?" Dvorak asked, tossing her an orange.
"Another hundred feet," Dr. Bramble replied, biting in to the rind to begin peeling the ripened fruit. She had chosen Obstetrics in a momentary lapse of judgement when social need seemed to outweigh professional stability. Two inches at risk for every procedure. More if it was twins. And these days, with all the fertility help, twins - and even more - weren't uncommon.
Depending on the field of medicine being practiced - and associated mortality rates - the staffs were made anywhere from a foot long for dermatologists to the Herculean redwoods at three hundred feet for doctors in high risk fields - trauma, neurosurgery, oncology and, yes, obstetrics.
Dvorak smiled.
"Still excited about making a difference? What are you, 34? 35? By the time you're actually practicing, you're going to be too old to have kids of your own. At least, not without fertility help."
"Don't remind me," Bramble mumbled, looking up from her work. "No way I could afford the death insurance until I'm up and running."
After the Medical Accountability Act was passed, the most terminally ill patients suddenly found themselves unable to find doctors to help them. This was back when the staff's length was limited by statute. Laws have perverse consequences, and when you penalize a doctor for trying to save a person that probably can't be saved, it's not hard to figure out what they'll do. It's human nature. And even if doctors did treat those patients - and many did - it was only a matter of time before the inevitable attrition drove them out of practice.
And so the length requirement was lifted and patients started carrying expensive death insurance on top of their normal health insurance. For most, dying now carried a monetary bonus for the doctor who was administering their care. Not an immediate payout, of course, that was too macabre. But a guarantee that went into a retirement account to be accessed only at the end of a doctor's staff life.
A golden parachute comprised of failure and meant to render the sting of that failure moot.
Failure to carry the death policy meant risking no medical aid in the event of a serious health problem. It was generally frowned upon to bear children if you couldn't afford the insurance, and between residency and board, Bramble could certainly not afford it.
"How about you?" Bramble asked. "Any kids in your future now that you're a licensed optometrist?"
Dvorak's chosen field was relatively safe, so his staff had only been 18 inches long. Much easier to carve. And much faster.
He smiled. "Yes, of course, but I'm waiting for you to be our doctor. So, please get going."
"I'm going as fast as--"
Suddenly, an orange wedge lodged in Brambles throat and she began to choke.
"Sarah? Are you okay?"
No response. Her face began to turn red as she clawed at her throat.
"Sarah? I... I can't help you. You know that."
Angels began to dance in her periphery.
"If I try... and fail. Well, you know how the courts have ruled. If I try, I'm taking you under my care. Sarah, I only have 18 inches. And you don't have insurance!"
The world began to turn black as the shade of her face darkened to purple.
"I'm sorry Sarah."
The last thing she saw as the ground rushed up to meet her was the carving blade slip from her hands and stick into her unfinished staff.
| 2015-11-12T20:03:09 | 2015-11-12T18:42:27 | 812 | 154 |
[WP]You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago, today he gives it back and says, "I need a favor". | Todd woke up one bright Monday morning and was very surprised to find Satan standing next to his bed. Again.
"What are *you* doing here?" Todd asked, or tried to. In his drowsy state, it came out more like "Wheryoodooinear?"
"Yes, yes, very nice..." the Devil replied absently. Suddenly, the demon leaned forward until his face was only a foot away from Todd's. The man jumped back, startled.
"Whoa! Hey! What's the problem here, man? You have my soul already, I thought the deal was done!"
"Shhhhhhhhh!" Satan glanced over his shoulder nervously, "Do you want the whole damn world to know I'm here? Listen," reaching into a pocket of his dark cloak, the Devil pulled out a small, glowing orb, "I have your soul right here. I'm gonna give it back to you, and in return, you're gonna do a little favor for me. OK?"
"I... what?" Todd replied, bewildered, "You're the ruler of Hell, and I'm just a random baker. What could you possibly need from me?"
Satan sighed, and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "This is going to sound weird, but... I need three dozen glazed donuts, and I need them quickly. Just leave them outside the bakery and I'll pick them up"
Todd, understandably, couldn't think of anything to say to that.
"Come on, come on, will you do it? Will you? Hurry up!" Satan said, agitated.
"Y-you're giving me my s-s-soul back...for donuts?" Todd managed to say.
The Devil rolled his eyes. "You sold me your soul two years ago in exchange for a goddamn *iPhone*. Quit complaining and get over to the shop and bake."
"I...well, I guess it would be nice to have my soul back. I'll get right on that."
Todd climbed out of bed and opened his closet. As he did so, Satan tossed the glowing ball at him, and it faded into his chest. Todd sighed contentedly as a warm feeling flooded through him. Satan turned, and headed for the door.
"Say... one last thing before you go," Todd said, "Why do you need donuts so badly anyway?"
Satan looked over his shoulder and shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? I'm hungry."
The Devil walked out the door, leaving Todd mildly scared, somewhat happy, and incredibly confused. | I was splayed out on a filthy hotel mattress, at least two other naked bodies tangled in my limbs, every brain cell in my skull burnt out, when the devil came for me.
He'd gotten fatter since I last saw him, putting on the pounds of middle age, his hairline receding up past his horns. His beard had gotten thicker, joined up with his mustache. And he was dressing better, had a new suit. Even in my inebriated state, a little tickle in the back of my mind was wondering how come the devil had aged with me.
"Jesus," I said. My mouth tasted like crap. "It's only been..." I tried to do the calculations in my head. "Six years."
"Seven years," the devil said, and gave a little condescending smile at me. "But that's your fault, not mine. I promised you wealth and fame for the rest of your life. You're the one who cut your life short."
"Mmmm." Last night was a blur. I couldn't remember what I had taken. It had fucked me up bad enough that I found I didn't particularly care about dying. I sat up, disentangling myself from the two women. They slept like the dead. No. That wasn't right. I was dead. I was the dream. They slept like the living.
I tried to shake my head clear and stood up, the carpeted floor tickling my bare feet. I felt like a corpse. I felt embalmed. Hell, I figured, had to at least be more interesting than this. "Well. All right. Let's go."
"Ah, hold on," the devil said, and from his suit pocket fished out a wisp of light and air. Just seeing it, I felt a tug in the pit of my chest that I hadn't felt in the last seven years. It called out to me. I wanted it more badly than I had ever wanted anything in my life. It was part of me. My soul.
The devil dangled it in front of my eyes like a dewdrop. "I need a favor," he said.
"Anything," I said. Jesus. I was crying just looking at it. My whole goddamn life wasted. Oh god. Oh God. If only people could see this. If only people knew how delicate and fragile and beautiful it all really was.
"Here ya go," he said, and tossed it to me.
I caught it in both hands, cradled it, cooed to it like a newborn babe. You don't know what it feels like. You don't know what it feels like being so complete. I was floating. I was ...
I looked up. I really was floating. There was the light, so beautiful and good and pure, there were the voices calling me. I managed to tear my eyes away from it to look back at the devil, who was just standing there hands in pockets, grinning.
"What's happening?" I gasped to him. "I was - I sold you my soul. I'm not - I don't deserve this. I'm damned! You're supposed to be dragging me to hell!"
The devil beamed up at me almost beatific. "No one deserves this. That's the point of grace, ain't it? God's a soft touch, letting every penitent soul up in there." He ran a finger over his eyebrow. "There's a war coming. The End Times. And I need as many double agents up in there as possible."
I was too light! I was still floating! Even the dread that gripped my heart was fading away at the joy of entering Heaven. "What's the favor?" I screamed back, with the last scraps of panic I could muster. "What the hell are you going to have me do?"
He simply waved me goodbye with the very tips of his fingers as the light and love became overwhelming. "Don't you worry about it. You'll find out when I collect." | 2016-06-27T09:11:14 | 2016-06-27T06:47:57 | 148 | 89 |
[WP] Something with a happy ending. Anything at all.
[removed] | I imagine many of us will spend the day shaking our heads in disbelief at this morning’s news. With that in mind, I’d like to share a small vignette from my 15-hour day working as a Cook County (IL) Election Judge yesterday in my town.
The clock hits 7pm and the Civic Center is empty, no one waiting to vote…kismet for Election Judges and Equipment Managers, we can start breaking down the polling stations and packing up the electronic polling stations.
As required, Judges from each party goes out to the double doors to officially announce “the polls are now closed” and there is one man running to the front door. “Wait, wait….I need to vote!” the 50-something man yells in a strong Arabic accent. We decide to allow the gentleman to vote (the decision has to be unanimous by all judges present), after all, the electronic check-in process is so speedy we can probably process him within the one minute before 7:01pm.
Then he excitedly says, “I have to register to vote.” Illinois allows election day voter registration, so we prepare the record pages to register him. He presents his required documents, 2 forms of ID; one with name and current address and another confirming his name. But he has more documents in his hands. I ask him, “what else did you bring with you?”
He proceeds to open a large bright white folder. Inside is his US Citizenship certificate. “I became an American citizen today.” he says. All the judges fell silent. “I just want to be able to vote for the first time."
It seems America was already pretty great. |
As the dawn’s light lanced out through the sky she knew it was finally over.
All night the battle had raged. She had fought the demon without pause or pity. She fought until her limbs were sore, her mind was exhausted and her breath barely came.
It was a fight for her life, and she would give no quarter to this demon that had plagued her life.
Every step, every turn and every thought had this demon dogging her. It whispered seductive words in her mind as she was breaking away to bring her crashing back into its grasp. It let her take steps forward only to haul her back and shatter her small happiness she had attained.
She was done with it all- this addicting demon- as she watched the little life she had built for herself slip away once more. Her job, family, love, everything was ripped from her grasp by the hellish creature and she would take it no more.
So she fought with tooth and nail against the monster that had lived inside her for years. She had let the thing drag her to death’s door this last time, and she had seen how despicable she was. It was a hard thing to see- herself as a weak broken doll-, but she let it harden her resolve to be free again.
Now as the light scattered across the sky she pulled a lance of hope and love from her heart, and drove it fiercely into the demon spilling its life force into the new day.
She had hope that she could be better. She had hope that she could walk away from this demon and never look back. She had hope for a life filled with love- one she would never give up for anything.
***
Blinking her eyes against the light the rising sun, she sighed. Turning her head from the window and the lovely painted sky she noticed the other person in her room.
“Dad?” she asked weakly. Her throat hurt, and she wondered if she had really been gasping for life.
The man sat forward, and smoothed the hair from the daughter’s face, “Yes dear, the others have gone to get coffee.”
“Others?”
Her father smiled at her softly, “Your mother, and brother are here. Your sister couldn’t be, with being due in two weeks and all, but she has been calling. And Mike is here too.”
Love crashed down on her, and she felt like she was being smothered in the most incredible love ever. If it killed her she would be happy to go like this. Instead her heart swelled to bursting, and thrummed in her chest with new strength.
Tears began to fall, “I’m so sorry, dad, I don’t know what happened, but I’m done. No more. I can’t do it anymore! I can’t.”
Her father patted her arm, and held her hand. “It’s okay, baby, we’re all just glad you're alive.”
A smile came over her face, and she realized that that her beginning had already begun. She had defeated her demon, and her life was waiting for her.
| 2016-11-09T07:56:08 | 2016-11-09T07:39:21 | 35 | 15 |
[WP] The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain's armies decades ago. You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism. | "GET DA FUCK OFF MA LAWN!!!!!!"
I shouted at those crazy worshippers. From time to time there were people in my garden kneeling and praying and hoping someone would safe them from this new management of the country.
It began when some blind witch suddenly had a vision about the dark lord being beaten and the lands liberated by a shining hero. Honestly I believe that old wench was stoned or something.
Since then it got worse from day to day. People would come and bring presents for the unborn child. They would gather and sing at the worst times possibly. Some would even kneel and pledge their life to my unborn daughter only to get cut down by the city guards moments later.
There was even an army from the neighboring kingdom trying to save my wife from the bloodthristy monster known as dark lord.
Those idiots got slaughtered but this didnt prevented other nutjobs from coming to my house.
I looked out of the window again and saw these worshippers getting beaten up by the guards.
My wife Jenna came into the room.
"Larry, why are you so angry again?"
I sighed, she wasnt as stressed as I was about our daughter being the new hero, even tough she know why this was dangerous to us.
"Honey, I bought this house so we could live a calm and peaceful life, far away from all the stress at work. But these dimwits are ruining everthing. Also our daughter is going to be the hero who will "liberate" these lands."
"But isnt this nice? After all these years of hardship and war the people will finally have hope again."
"Maybe, but we will have a huge problem then. BECAUSE I AM THE FUCKING DARK LORD AND YOU KNOW IT!!!!!! AND OUR OWN FUCKING DAUGHTER WILL FUCKING KILL US AND DESTROY EVERYTHING WE ACCOMPLISHED. THIS IS NOT NICE!!!!!!
| The sound of the oracle’s footsteps, a soft, unremarkable shuffle, reverberates throughout the air, filling the silence with a sense of utter dread. My hands begin to shake, a bottomless pit forming in my stomach. I hold Elina close as she shakes in my arms.
Lord Ivrus’ reign never was a bad one. Maybe his armies were a bit too forceful, or maybe his statues were just a bit too strict, but that was typical fare in the Kingdom of Thal. It was a cyclical pattern, and it always had been: the King fucks it up, the new King enters to such great fanfare that the very earth shakes, that King fucks it up once more, and the oracles find a new child to lead the nation until they inevitably fuck it up.
It’s a vicious cycle.
Now, watching the gathered masses of Thal from afar, I can almost feel Elina, my wife, once more. I can almost smell her hair, or almost sense her breath as she whispers into my ear. Almost. It’s a bitter feeling, when you’re filled with such longing, but the world snatches it from right under your nose.
We don’t need to feel one another now, though, as she lies in my arms. We only need to watch, as the oracle leads our daughter Aurelia out to face the cheering throng, sure in their imminent victory. They see no person, but a hero, an embodiment of light and valor sent by the gods themselves to free them from a nonexistent despot.
“People of Thal.” Never before had a single voice been able to command such a crowd, but people listened to the creaky old oracle, who was ancient and white-haired, and deaf in one ear. I squeeze the frail outline of Elina’s hand, and while she can’t feel it I know she’ll appreciate the gesture.
“I come to you today to present your next Hero. I have convened with the gods, the sovereigns of the future, and they have spoken. Aurelia Sair is going to overthrow Lord Ivrus, and restore order to the lands of Thal. She is brave, she is strong, and, dare I say it, she is beautiful.”
Aurelia blushes, staring down at her feet. A sudden pang hits me, hard, and my vision begins to cloud with tears.
“I am sure that we, as a community, as a nation, as united people of Thal, can come together behind Aurelia Sair and take back what is ours from the hands of tyranny.”
“Elina.” My voice comes out in a slight, cracked whisper, but Elina hears me. “I’m going down to see her. Are you coming?”
“Of course.”
Together, hand in transparent, nebulous hand, we descend to the stage, presenting our spectral forms only to Aurelia. I embrace her, and she raises her head to face me. I see a tear run down her cheek.
“Aurelia,” I say, trying to mask my tears to no avail, “your mother and I are so very proud of you. You’ll do great out there.”
“You think?” Her heart is pounding. I can feel it without trying.
“I know, Aurelia.” I take her hand. “And we’ll be there with you. Every step of the way.”
| 2016-11-26T06:54:54 | 2016-11-26T05:50:27 | 46 | 23 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP... | There I was, sitting in my designated chair at home, making memes and singing along to this old game I used to play which tells you how good you were at singing the song it gives you.
"OH DAMN! THIS IS MY JAM!!" I exclaimed having heard the first few chords of my favourite song. As I began singing along I noticed a small fruitfly near my arm, laying on the armrest, still singing along I casually swept my arm out, propelling the fly into my range for a devastating kick.
*blip*
+1 EXP
I have to say that I'm getting pretty good at this, if I say so myself. A few minutes passed and as my song strung out its final chord I heard another...
*blip*
+1500 EXP
"Huh?"
I hear an overdramatic voice from my TV speakers shout, 'WOW! You totally destroyed that song, wanna go again?' | *Plghrt*
> Kill confirmed
*Sigh*
Another bug down, 1XP. Lovely, I'll never reach 10k, not at this rate. It started with the mice and rats, then the cats, fish. It's a privilege to work at a slaughter house or deliver lethal injections. I never could do that, not intentionally. The look in their eyes, the helplessness, betrayal, I cannot stand it. I document stuff, species that are near extinction, such as the common rat, house spider, fly, bee, etc. It helps us understand the value of the kill, why some rats are more valuable than others. Rare species have multiplier depending on the number of units left. White mouse used to be worth 2XP, now it's 200.
*Plarght*
> Kill confirmed
**+1**
*Sigh*
**+1500**
What!? This cannot be, what did I? How? Nothing besides me, but two fruit fly corpses. I must be going mad, am I?
*wuuuuzzzzzzz*
What's that noise? Where is it coming from? Is it the TV again? It starts by itself sometimes, old clunker. I need to check my stats again, it'll be listed there for sure. *looks at the wrist monitor* Nothing!? What was that? Just a question mark next to it, did I kill a new species? Cannot be, I did nothing of the sorts, less than 7mm doesn't count, it cannot be seen and confirmed... Damn, I must confirm it for it to appear on the list. I must check my shoes. I'm almost sober now, let's have a drink first. *opens the fridge* Oh come on, I forgot it doesn't work anymore. A man cannot live with such a low XP count here nowadays. Where did I put my vodka bottle? The toilet bowl? I did put my ice there to melt, right? Nah, this puddle begs to differ. The window? Yup, it's December, must be there.
*The window slides open*
Not this one? Hmm, can't get anything right when I start to sober up *mutter mutter*
*The window slides open*
This one neither? Oh man, I'm gonna die. Wait, maybe it fell down. Lemme check.
> Kill confirmed
Oh no | 2017-05-15T08:57:56 | 2017-05-15T06:23:41 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is allowed to murder once in their life, but you must file your intent beforehand. You're in line to file and overhear the stranger in front of you give the name of their intended target... you. | "Why won't you accept my application? This is my first time, and I've got the right permits!"
We all looked up then, torn out from our private worlds. She was an elderly lady, white hair tightly wrapped in a bun, walking cane shaking in the air as she made her point. Nothing wrong with that, there was no age restriction here, but people who applied to the Bureau of Forced Termination tended to be the younger, more impetuous crowd.
"Mam," said the lady at the counter, clearly fraying under the demands of this neverending day, "you'll need to fill up this form, justify why you want this individual removed from society. We have officers in the interview room to help you fill it up, if you would like."
"Nonsense! Everyone knows what he did! You can just write it there, right now!"
"I understand your frustrations, mam, but there's a process that we have to -"
"How much of a reason do you need!" she said, voice straining with effort, oblivious to the stares she was receiving. "He's a selfish bastard, doesn't care about anyone else but himself! There, you can write that down for me!"
I pulled on the brim of my cap, kept my gaze trained on the floor. I had heard this too many times already.
"Who cares what reasons he had, why he fell asleep at the wheel? That won't change the fact that my two grandchildren aren't here with me now, right? All those children on the schoolbus, they were innocent!"
A murmur of agreement sizzled through the air as the other applicants caught on. This was not just another grieving individual, but a fellow sufferer of the Route 42 Tragedy.
"Mam, we understand, we've received many applications for Daryl Huddersfield as well. Please, come with us to our interview room, we need to keep with the formalities."
They led her away then, and the temperature in the room dipped slightly. A susurrous of discontent and grievances flowed into the vacuum of emotion which had opened up, and the crowd returned to their singular pains, absorbed again in their own troubles.
"Sir? Hello? May I have your form please?"
I snapped out of my reverie. The line had moved faster than I thought. I passed over the form in my hand, which had taken me more than a week to fill up. The words were hard to commit to paper at first, but as the full scale of the tragedy played out on TV, as I realised the full extent of pain caused, it became easier.
"Sir, just so you're clear, the forms for forced termination of other people are from that counter there. This form is for forced termination of onese-"
"I am aware," I said, smiling wanly, "I too want to apply for forced termination of Daryl Huddersfield."
---
/r/rarelyfunny | The queue was eerily quiet and still. Yet, the atmosphere of the lobby wasn't that of calmness, and had this been a bank, everyone in line would be regarded as possible bank robbers from the way they behaved and dressed. People were fidgety, wired, clad in clothes and headgear that covered them too well for what the weather demanded, hands in pockets and a meek, sly expression of character, heads hung low, and a more than safe distance away from the person in front of them. In this instance I gladly followed suit. Ever since the passing of the 28th Amendment which coldly stated that each and every citizen of the United States of America were allowed to commit one homicide without judicial repercussion, provided they first declare their intent to the nearest law enforcement agency, I along with most others, have been in a state of constant distress. Even though I can think of no one who'd want to kill me so badly they'd go through even the slightest inconvenience to do so, never mind wasting their allowance to kill on me, I still feel a tugging nervousness. Its like I can't shake the urge to constantly look behind my back, just to make sure no one is eying me suspiciously or approaching too aggressively.
I was fourth in line, and I could just barely make out the uncomfortable, slightly agitated whispers coming from the man being serviced. When you make you declaration, you have to give name of victim, reason for wanting to kill that person and the method by which you would do so, I guess to weed out the extravagant killers from the pragmatic ones, you know, just to make sure no one is trying to commit murder with RPG’s and C4. After it has been filled, the form is then sent to a special court specifically dealing in these matters, and about a week later, you get your answer. Either your form passes and your free to follow through with the plan, or it doesn’t, in which case you have to wait a period of about 6-12 months depending on the particular circumstances under which it was denied, until you can file a new request.
This is one way of utilizing this new “right”. There is however another option. You can choose to opt out of the whole thing, rendering yourself immune to anyone who chooses to put your name on that form. However in doing so, you must also renounce your own right to kill. A person who has chosen to kill, and submitted such a request at least once, is excluded from this option. Lastly, and most importantly, this withdrawal from the “pool” must be made before anyone has filed a form with your name on it, so you can imagine the stress and hurry to get to your nearest police station as quickly as possible.
I was now third in line. The man currently filing his form was short, thickly clad in a double layer of over sized coats, and an old mid 1900s fedora. He seemed extremely stressed. Despite him being so short he almost had to tiptoe to reach the receptionist desk to sign the form, he tried to cover what he was writing by desperately attempting to hunch over the paper and block it with his stumpy arms. When he had written a great deal, he took a step back and inspected the form closely. He then put it back on the desk and took an eraser out of his pocket and began erasing to the chorus of sighs. This series of events looped for a while, and the queue started growing even more restless. I decided to try and speed up the process a bit:
“Hey, wouldn’t mind hurrying it up a bit there pal?” I shouted unnecessarily high.
The man turned around mid writing, and as our eyes locked, his jotting stopped and the pen dropped. His eyes widened and a panic shot into his eyes. It was my neighbor Carlos. I was surprised at seeing him here, but more so at his reaction to seeing me. We stood staring weirdly at each other for a while, then Carlos bolted toward the door.
“Hey!” I shouted. “What’s the matter?”.
Like a wild bull he charged through the mass of people to reach the door, and once outside he disappeared across the street, still running. As I stood there wondering, a thought crossed my mind. My heart dropped to my knees. I stepped out of line and peered at Carlos’ form. There stood my name in fine handwriting.
| 2017-05-30T16:38:47 | 2017-05-30T16:11:17 | 155 | 28 |
[WP] The devil on your shoulder: "Nah, dude. That's fucked up." | "Nah, Man. That's fucked up." said the devil on my shoulder.
"I know. Fox canceled the show without even giving a reason or resolution." I said.
"But River was just getting interesting!" said the devil.
"Tell me about it. They took the sky from us. Least till the movie came out. Never satisfied me much though. Have a beer man." I said.
We sat back and started binge watching it once again. God damn Fox TV. | "Nah, dude. That's fucked up." Hoove now digging into my shoulder. "I see it this way, you leave now and everything goes back to the way it was. You stay any longer? Shit." He chuckled, the laughter was enough to make you sick to your stomach. "You'll be one seriously screwed individual!"
"But I can't leave her here! What if she hates me?" My hands were trembling. I had never once in my life been presented with this important of a fork in the road. "I'm going to stay." The words tumbled out of my mouth like a drunkard down a flight of stairs.
"Suit yourself kid, but know this is the last time I try to talk some damn sense into you." He flew angrily over to my other shoulder. *chains rattling* "how come you have influence over him still?" He slammed his fist on the cage, "I thought I told you to stay quiet!" He raised his pitchfork. He had ensnared the angel in a trap to ensure it didn't give me guidance. The angel was battered and bruised yet it smiled at the devil. "I WILL KILL YOU!"
"He hasn't said a word." I interrupted, "I'm making these decisions on my own." My words were solid and blunt.
"Of course you are." The devil snickered, "Just like you made all of the decisions the last time right? So are you going to do something about this or not?" The devil, now impatient, grumpily hovered back on his side of my body. I turned to look at the Angel. His eyes were filled with fear and remorse. I knew that whatever path I chose would have consequences.
"On second thought," I mumbled half heartedly. Both the devil and angel sighed out of annoyance. "Maybe I shouldn't marry the shop keeper. Lydia is a way better match for my character anyways!" I said reverting to the last save. | 2017-06-16T21:40:14 | 2017-06-16T21:33:18 | 62 | 28 |
[WP] You are a Billionaire. One day you realize that you have literally the most ungrateful children in the world, so you resolve to become a superhero. Not for the greater good, but because it seems the fastest way to waste their inheritance. | They didn't come back for Thanksgiving. I forgave them after eating the turkey myself in silent anger. But Christmas alone? The sweetness of the cake was a sharp contrast to my feelings. The cold enveloped me as my children hung up on my angry calls. I didn't see them unless they were forced to meet me. Not like I wanted to anyhow. It was a painful solace that they didn't give a shit about any of their other elders too. But as their parent, their benefactor...it enraged me. Those ingrates would get their dues.
My estate and possessions were large, and I knew they coveted it. At a family reunion last year, I heard them whispering about how they would spend my hard earned money. The cash I slogged hours upon hours for would not go into their scheming hands. That was a baseline I stood firm by, and I would make it so. I considered giving the inheritance to another family member, but out of goodwill they rejected. Even if they agreed, the law restricted giving offspring nothing for 'their filial piety'. I would have liked to say how bullshit that was regarding my family situation, but the law carried little exceptions. So there remained only one method.
Spend it. Splurge. Because if there was no money to inherit, they wouldn't get a cent. As I reached my silver age, my children started investing heavily. I knew they intended to utilize my wealth to boost their finances. I would wreck that plan completely. After evaluating the costs of various different jobs, the hero one seemed the best. Fancy equipment, research and development...the list of purchables were near endless. And so I took on the job.
When I started work, a private outfit specializing in research approached me, providing me with top-notch gear and equipment. I bought the most expensive ones I could find under the guise of wanting the best for the people. My rescue efforts were lackluster yet successful, mostly due to the lack of villain training. But with all these successes, the better news was the depletion of my money. Slowly, the cash I'd scrupulously saved vanished. And the ingrates never got wind of it, since they never came to visit.
When I was on my deathbed, the money had finally run dry. And as I handed over the will, a poor man, I laughed at the thought of their shocked faces. But as they took the will, the frowns and shock I thought I would see was replaced with a cunning smile.
"You've no money to get from me," I spat. But my son shook his hand, a crafty smile forming.
"Dad, do you remember the corporation you bought your gear from?" he asked. I nodded, a smile forming. So he knew! That made the moment far better. Instead, his smile widened.
"I was in charge of that company."
My screams of anger died with me.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | "Master Johnson, the mayor requests your assistance again. He says the largest bank in the New York City area is being robbed and it's a job only you can handle."
"Ah yes, of course. Thank you, Walter. You've never let me down one you know. Here's a little tip."
I gave my butler fifty-thousand dollars as his tip right then. To me, that was mere pocket change. I've spent my entire life playing a game of risks and rewards to become one of the richest men in the world. Now, I'm the owner of almost every major corporation you can imagine. Google, Amazon, hell even the New York Times. I could control the world if I wanted, but I don't. All I want is to live my life and do good while I can. I donate tons of money to fundraisers and charities across the globe, hoping to make a difference. I would hope that my children adopted this mindset, but it seemed this wasn't the case. I suppose I spoiled them too much in their younger years, it could have been buying Ferrari's at the ages of eight, or possibly buying 100% stock of every gaming corporation in the world, so they could have the games they wanted made. I just wanted them to have good lives, honestly. But it was all in vain. They became far more greedy than I could imagine, they lost all regard for other humans and only cared about themselves. They couldn't even begin to fend for themselves had they not had millions of dollars at their fingertips....
However, several years ago I had all that changed. See, none of us had our own bank account. We simply had all of our names on one, because it was impossible for them to even make a dent. Every item that they bought, most of the money went right back into a business I owned. But I removed all their names and made each of them their own bank account with one million dollars each. That would be more than enough for them to start to create their own lives, but they only knew how to live a lavish lifestyle and instead spent it on designer clothes and expensive cars. Only one of them even thought to buy a house, and all of them ran out of money in the first few months. So, they devised a plan. In my will I promised my late wife that all the money I owned would be divided among the kids. So, naturally, they decided to try to kill me to claim their inheritance. Truly a despicable thing to do. Also impossible, I have the best security system known to man. In retaliation I decided to attempt to waste all of their money, and the most fun way I figured was to become a super-hero. I bought everything you could imagine a super hero having. A giant underground lair, a fortress made of ice, and I funded scientists to do constant research to give me super human powers. I managed to dwindle my billions down to only $10,000,000 dollars. But I wasn't satisfied yet. I wanted my kids to know the pain of having to start from nothing, and I wouldn't be satisfied until my bank account was empty.
"Master, before you go, are you sure you're still in fighting condition? You are in your early 70's after all."
"Walter, my age has never stopped me before, and it won't stop me now. Prepare the Gold-Mobile."
**AT THE BANK**
"End of the line old man! You really thought you could stop us?" He screamed in my face. His cronies all started to laugh. "There's nothing you can do. We've wired out all the money here. There's nothing left. Untouchable, untraceable, and most importantly... unrecoverable. You have nothing now. You are nothing now. Raphael, kill him."
As I saw the man with the gun approach me, I wasn't sad. No, I lived my life to the fullest. I didn't come here to stop the bank robbery. I came here to ensure the police didn't. I could've easily stopped them, but I'm tired of it. There's nothing left to buy and I refuse to stop spending until I have nothing. This was my last resort. But, I can die happy knowing my children will finally be forced to live their own lives. May they be better men and women than I ever was... | 2017-07-20T22:30:38 | 2017-07-20T20:48:05 | 906 | 64 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | I couldn’t understand why he was smiling. I watched as my father looked around almost uncertainly before setting the jug of milk on the counter. There was no apology in his smile. There was only the same warmth I remembered as a boy when he watched me score a goal in soccer. Nonetheless it did nothing to diffuse the rage rumbling inside of me.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped. My father’s smile falters for a moment.
“This is my house, son. I guess I don’t understand the question.” He rubbed the black stubble on his chin.
“No,” I practically launched myself up from the kitchen table. “This is my house! I inherited it almost 25 years ago when Mom died. Remember her? The woman you left?”
The calm never left his gaze as he picked the milk back up and placed it inside the refrigerator.
“You’re a piece of shit,” I snarled. “How dare you show your face here?” I watched him and the confusion finally set in. Not a single gray hair was on his head. No wrinkles. In fact, he was wearing the exact same red flannel shirt I last saw him in. My father leaned up against the wall. A calendar grazed the top of his head.
Normally an even-tempered man myself, I was becoming crushed under the heat of volcanic disdain. I charged my father and slammed my fists into his chest.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? What you’ve done to Mom? She was never the same after you left! I was never the same! I looked up to you! I hate you!” I pounded his chest. “I hate you! I hate you!”
Amidst my incoherent screaming I suddenly froze. The massive bear arms of my father wrapped around me.
“Oh, son. Will you forgive me?”
I couldn’t breathe. The weight of hate filled years melted away under the even heavier weight of my farther’s arms.
“Yes,” my own whisper woke me. I opened my tear blurred eyes. I blinked away the dream and saw the inside of my father’s house. | My dad was the best. Ever since I was young he would always wake up before me and make breakfast. On top of that he and I would always go on adventures like hiking and camping, and when I was old enough skydiving and mountaineer.
He'd always carry around this small flask and he would never talk about it. I used to ask him what was in it but he'd always avoid the question. I usually dropped it there since he never acted like an alcoholic or anything after drinking it.
One day I woke up early, before him and I decided to grab something to drink from the fridge. We had a huge fridge and I would always grab the first thing to drink I saw. Strangely enough nothing caught my eye, nothing except a panel that looked slightly out of place. I tried to snap it back in but it ended up revealing a hidden section of the fridge. In the section there was one half gallon of...what looked like milk. I thought this was strange so I pulled it out to get a better look.
As I pulled it out of the fridge and was about to read the label my father jumps out to surprise/scare me. I jumped and threw the carton up in the air. His face went from laughter to horror in a split second. The carton hit the floor and spilt everywhere. I looked up at my dad and he looked as if, I just did something terrible.
I looked at him and tried to break the stare by saying "Hey...don't cry over spilt milk right?" He just walked over to the carton picked it up and walk away. Standing in the milk soaked kitchen, I heard him open up the foyer closet. "Dad?" Then I heard him grab the keys. "Dad!?" I ran out to see him halfway out the front door and then have it slammed shut in my face...that was 50 years ago on this day...
I'm 67 now. In these 50 years I've finished school, graduated college and am married and have kids. We live in a quiet part of town and I managed to repurchase the house I grew up in. I never changed the locks in case he'd ever come back. Then I heard the door handle rattle, then the lock turn. It was 2:10 p.m. the kids are at school and my wife is at work. "Who can it be now?" I asked myself as a saxophone echoed in my head. The door opens and...it's...it's my dad! But...
He should be 87 but he looks exactly the way he did on that morning, except without a cowboy hat on. He had the same half carton in his hand, but this one wasn't spilled. I ran up to him and gave him a huge hug and nearly cried. "Dad! Where have you been?! What happened?" He silently stared at me. "Dad, I didn't mean to upset you 50 years ago. Why did you leave?!"
He just walked over and sat down on my couch placing the milk on the coffee table. Frustration welling up inside me I yelled "DAD, WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME!!!"
He sat there and simply motioned with his hand at the milk, and said "Try some boy, and have your friends try some also."
"What are you talking about?"
He pointed directly at the carton in an exaggerated fashion. "Here's some Nilbog Milk, special milk, high in vitamin *EHHHH*"
"Wha-"
He recovered from his sneeze "High in vitamin content."
Edit: Grammar and punctuation. | 2022-05-13T11:22:44 | 2017-11-19T16:15:34 | 1,516 | 19 |
[WP] Despite having pink hair, a tragic backstory, and untold magic power, the narrator refuses to make you the main character | The story of Josh
A mighty fine lad
He lives in Kentucky
With his friend Chad
 
And every day
On his way to work
He walks past this loser
God, what a jerk
 
Some kid with pink hair
An orphan at birth
Some say he’s magic
No way on earth
 
He’s just a nobody
Don’t focus on him
Keep looking at Josh
And his boss, Jim
 
Josh was caught sleeping
Passed out at his desk
And Jim got real angry
Very hulk-esque
 
So, Josh was fired
And on his way home
He saw that same loser
And let out a moan
 
“My god!” He exclaimed
And pointed in shock
The kid with pink hair
Had lifted a rock
 
Now, this rock was special
Not a pebble, you see
This was a boulder
A monstrosity
 
He hurled it some distance
And shouted with rage
“NARRATOR, I HATE YOU,
GIVE ME A PAGE”
 
But the narrator ignored him
And kept out of sight
He followed Josh home,
And wished him goodnight
| "Why not?"
The girl with the pink hair and the blue eyes was standing behind ou hero, Tommy the baker. Tommy was...
"Seriously, Tommy? He is the most boring person in this entire village!"
Tommy ignored the girl, who was begging for attention and continued with his daily routine. Little did he know that...
"Ah, fuck it. You know what? I know a way to force you make me the main character."
The girl finally left and Tommy could enjoy this calm morning again. He knew that the girl, Miri, was always some kind of freak and outcast in the village and....
Wait a moment, this house looks so familiar.
"Duh, thats the house of your bitch ex girlfriend and the 3 fucking bastards you call kids."
There is no way Miri could have known that the sage used to have a girlfriend and a family.
"Did you already forget? This is a small fucking village. Everyone knows everybody. And you are not a sage. You are a third class book autor, who "accidently" managed to impregnate his cousin 3 times in a row and now tries to compensate his lack of writing skill by narrating a story."
The girl could really hurt peoples feeling sometimes.
"You don't know what real pain is. You don't know how it is, coming into class every morning while people are spitting and shouting insults at you. You don't know how it feels to be the outcast, an oprhan, deemed worthless by everyone else and treated like dirt."
Miri revealed something not many people know to the sage.
"In any case, your kids have been always the worst bullies of all. And your ignorant ex girlfriend also encourages them to do horrible things to me. Just yesterday they tried to ambush me and drag me into the stable."
The sage did not know how rotten his ex girlfriend and children were.
"You have 2 options now. Either make me a main character and be my companion on a epic journey through this world. Or watch your childrens and wife burn alive. I get satisfaction from both of them."
It seems the sage was wrong. Not the baker was the hero, but the annoying girl with the pink hair. She looked around her and decided that there was nothing that held her back in this place. She grabbed a knife, one of the few things she had. And also a hunting bow and a leather armor? Together with a detailed map of the land surrounding the village?????
"I said your bastard childs TRIED to ambush me. Now let's go."
Miri finally left the village where she spent her entire childhood in. Only a few villagers looked at her when she walked out. Including 3 boys who obviously got a serious trashing by a girl yesterday and were now too scared to look directly at Miri. And so the sage unleashed the "heroine" at the world. | 2017-12-18T20:19:09 | 2017-12-18T16:11:33 | 415 | 25 |
[WP] The end is nigh as the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse ride. Just as humanity loses hope, the 4 horsemen of wholesomeness descend in a beam of light: Mr. Rogers (love), Jim Henson (life), Steve Erwin (nature), & Bob Ross (peace) | The dawn cracked once again, brushing away the last red remnants of the apocalypse, bathing the ruined nations with its tender golden tint, caressing the faces of the four men that stood amidst the ruins, watching the sunrise with heaving chests and bright smiles.
One of them strayed from the group, headed to a vast depression full of colorful rocks, opalescent algae, and sunken ships. "There was water and life here before the battle," he said, and touched the sand beneath him. "And so, with my last lifebeats, I shall bring the water back to where it once was."
After his words, as if on cue, the clear morning was covered in a single, endless storm cloud. The rain gushed out of it, as if it held waterfalls instead of raindrops, slowly filling the places where the creeks, rivers, seas, and oceans used to be.
The one with the charred and mighty afro gazed at the ruination before his eyes. The cities were reduced to scattered boulders, cracked streets, and dead trees. "No creature should witness this landscape," he said and sat on a stool before an empty canvas. He dug out a brush and a palette full of colors. Then, he painted patiently as if time didn't exist.
With each stroke, something rose. In time, the cracks were mended, the boulders flew back to where they belonged, and the trees bloomed in the brevity of a breath.
"My last work, my masterpiece." He held his breath and released it in a lingering, heartfelt gasp. His gaze lost in the beautiful golden-bathed city encompassing him.
"That's breathtaking, Bob," a man holding puppets in his hands. "It's my turn now."
He sat on the ground, and there he gazed at the emptiness of the streets, heard the lacking laughter echoing through them, and shed a tear. "Life is not life without laughter and happiness. Bob, Mr. Rogers, I beg you, sing along with me."
Soon, their three voices billowed through the streets. They were colorful, harmonious, perfectly in tune. They wavered as they went, and in their wake, countless teeny spheres of light rose from beneath the ground, and crumbled into bright, glittering piles of dust, falling gently onto the ground.
Those little mounds quivered, and exploded, sending never-ending grains flying to the air. String-thin tendrils burst out of each one of them, meeting the others, until they were all interconnected in the shape of men and women. Then, a blinding light burst from the empty spaces between them, and once the flash left eyes of the three singing men, people now stood in the streets, confused, but live nonetheless.
"My job here is done," Bob said, and stowed back his brush and canvas.
"Mine is too," the one with the puppets replied, and turned the puppets to Mr. Rogers.
"Will you come with us, Mr Rogers?" the puppet said, with an adorable, high-pitched voice.
"I will stay," Mr. Rogers said. "It's my turn to teach them how to love."
--------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn | Kyle cringed behind what was left of his living room wall. The ashen sky roiled above, and the chatter of gunfire was punctuated only by the occasional *clang* of metal on metal. Most of the neighbors had made due with whatever household or gardening implement was within reach. It would have been a massacre if it had been the townspeople against the soldiers from the nearby naval base, but it wasn’t some lopsided fight. Everyone was killing everyone indiscriminately.
It had started in the early morning. Kyle had been out for his morning jog, rocking it to NPR. All of the sudden, he saw the elderly widow Wilksborough take a spade to her neighbor Jerry with gleeful abandon. All down the street, similar scenes of violence erupted. Only Jerry’s lawn repair guy seemed unaffected, until a thrown rock knocked off his noise-cancelling headphone sent him into a furor as well. It seemed some sort of auditory madness had gripped the entire community.
Kyle had sprinted home and put Diane and the kids in the basement after giving them all ear plugs. He had replaced NPR with gentle acoustic melodies- while calming, they didn’t exactly match with the apocalypse outside. A Molotov had destroyed much of the living room where he now crouched before he doused it with the garden hose. Kyle had pistol in hand, and bat within easy reach. He peaked over the piece of wall. A platoon of navy men were marching, and came to a halt on the street.
At their head was- well, a knight was the only way to describe him. He was eight or nine feet tall. Bedecked in crimson armor that reminded Kyle of the Crusades, green eyes rested deep in the darkness of the helmet’s visor. His horse was a fiery red. A massive sword was scaled to his bulky frame, and raised in attack. Wordlessly, the rider lowered his sword at Kyle’s house, and the troops began to march across the lawn. Kyle sucked in a deep breath, and prepared to open fire. He couldn’t take them all, maybe only two, but he could make his last moments count.
A blinding beam of light from the sky bisected Jerry’s lawn, stopping the soldiers in their tracks. When the light dimmed, four more horsemen were in the flower bed. The soldiers immediately opened fire, and Kyle felt a pain explode through his chest, and looked down at a spreading mass of red. He slumped, his view of the new horsemen unimpeded. The bullets all seemed to miss the men. One of the men, bedecked in a sweater, rode to the head of the group and began speaking to the soldiers. Kyle couldn’t hear the words over his pounding heartbeat, but one by one the soldiers stopped firing, but their weapons were still trained on the Sweater Knight. Another, this one whose massive hair seemed almost a helmet, produced a large white rectangle and began painting on it, brushes flashing across the canvas. And one by one, the soldiers lowered their weapons. Kyle’s vision blurred, and everything went black.
An eternity passed, and Kyle stirred. A horse was in his living room, and another man stood over him, deep in concentration. It took him a minute to recognize the hair and beard, as it had been many years since he had seen the man on television. “Are you…. Are you Jim Henson?” The bearded man smiled and said nothing. Wordlessly, he tossed something to Kyle, who caught it. It was a military-grade bullet. Glancing down, his wound was gone.
Staggering outside, he saw the other three riders. The two he had seen speaking he now recognized as Bob Ross and Mr. Rogers, who now stood on either side of the red rider, sword now held in custody of Mrs. Wilksborough, though it was nearly twice her height. A fourth man, younger than the rest and dressed as if for a safari, stood at a base of a maelstrom of birds, spinning faster and faster. He raised his arms, and the maelstrom flew up and out into the sky. Slowly, the ashen skies gave way to their original blue. The younger man looked over at Kyle and smiled, and Kyle choked up. He had loved all these personalities in his youth, and Steve Irwin had always been his favorite.
Kyle looked around, and saw Jim Henson walking towards to Jerry’s house. The neighbors were smiling, and chatting, and Kyle smiled too. He went to go grab Diane and the kids. Maybe the apocalypse was not today. Maybe all they needed was a little wholesomeness. | 2018-11-10T05:35:20 | 2018-11-10T05:17:27 | 74 | 23 |
[WP] You been shot through your helmet. As you lay in the sand you hope for a quick death. Minutes pass. You reach your hand back to pressure the wound. Instead of blood you feel exposed wiring.
sorry about the grammar mistake in the title, I’m on mobile |
I could taste the metal of the bullet. Weirdly, that was the first thought that came to mind as I stared up into the blue sky, watching as the occasional puff of smoke meant yet another of my companions met their untimely demise far, far above me. War wasn’t even supposed to have happened yet, but try telling that to those of us on the front lines, I suppose.
I wondered idly if this was supposed to be one of those near-death things you read about on the internet. Everyone always talked about how you could see yourself on your death bed as you floated a few feet away, blah blah blah… well, whatever. I wasn’t floating, I was lying down in this damnable open field, surrounded by destroyed hover tanks as explosions rocked the ground all around me. I could still hear my squad mates, calling out orders or screaming in pain as what was left of us tried to keep pushing forward across this hallowed ground.
I was dead, of course. Just sitting here waiting to die. I wasn’t sure where the bullet came from, but in war, really, who cares? For all I knew, it could have been one of our boys that fired it. Friendly fire is just as lethal as enemy fire. It had ricocheted off one of the destroyed tanks, ran right through the top of my helmet, and stopped somewhere in the recesses of my mouth.
I could feel the bullet fragments on my tongue. They’d been hot initially, but now they were just… there, and I could taste them. The metallic tinge and gunpowder residue was sickening, but I couldn’t just spit it out. I was dead.
Wasn’t I?
I watched yet another pop of smoke appear in the sky, and realized my eyes were starting to water from staring into oblivion without blinking. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I blinked. My eyes felt better almost immediately.
I groaned and sat up, instinctively spitting the bullet residue from my mouth out into my hand. I looked at the fragments in my hand with a morbid curiosity, still not quite processing what I was looking at. After all, those pieces had gone through my helmet, my brain, my skull, my teeth…
Wait.
My hand shaking, I slowly unbuckled my helmet and pulled it off my head. Shockingly, though the hole was obviously there, there was a surprisingly tiny amount of blood. Next, I gingerly touched the entry wound, expecting to find a gaping wound, brain matter, and enough blood to make the Kool-Aid man queasy.
I wasn’t expecting to find circuitry.
My fingers wrapped around a hard piece of plastic and pulled out a broken piece of what looked to be a circuit board. I studied it, but its origin was unfamiliar to me. I reached back into the hole, and this time came back with a couple of wires and what looked to be a severed cable.
“H… huh. Well. Alright then.”
I stood up carefully, my equilibrium somehow off. Normally, I’d make some offhand remark that having a hole through your head would do that, but after finding the circuitry and whatnot, now it’d actually make sense. Being a robot or cyborg really shot a lot of my jokes right to hell.
I was going to have to file a complaint with HQ when I got back. They really should have told me this ahead of time.
Until then, it was time to get back to the fight. We had a war to win, and time waits for no cyborg.
Robot.
Whatever I was. | "What the ... Ouch! It shocked me. My head, shocked me." My hand darts away in reflex but curiosity acts like a magnet drawing it back to the opening in the back of my head.
I approach more gingerly this time. Is that a wire? It feel like a wire. This bit feels like the outer coating and near the end it probably - "Ouch!", I hear the spark as another shock jolts through my hand and arm.
I have wires sticking out of a hole in my head. As the thought goes through my head it sounds crazy. I consider checking again but think better of it. I decide to look around to see if there is anyone else. This seems like a good thing to get a second opinion on. If they just look at me, gasp in horror and run away; we agree.
I see no-one, small rocks surround me and although they are ow they block my limited line of sight. I taste the sand in my mouth. I am lying near a small puddle of sea water and I can smell it wafting towards me. My surroundings start to remind me of what is going on. Remind me I have been shot and need to try and find cover.
Feeling a bit more lucid I reach back to my head. Surely the wires thing was just some kind of - "OUCH!".
Panic starts to grip me as my mind whirls but suddenly I remember something. I know why there are wires coming out of my head. Why I should not be surprised by strangeness. It's a simulation. I live in a simulation.
It has been such a long time since it all happened. The things that I struggle to explain even in my own head but were sure proof the world was nothing like it seemed. The subliminal hints and the appearance of people being able to read my thoughts. Meeting people that seemed to know a lot about me. People that should be complete strangers, but were stranger still.
I've stopped thinking about it over the years. It was all so strange and intangible that it was never really possible to just write off me just having went crazy. Or having an over-active imagination. I had to stop thinking about it. It was not good for my well being. Before the strange stuff started to happen, I thought "pulling your hair out" was just an expression. Trying to understand what all the weirdness meant and the implications of it, literally had me pulling my hair out.
"I knew it", I mutter.
"Very funny", I sarcastically say, directing it towards the sky.
Who am I taking to? I never did decide what was best to call it. For lack of a better term "God" can be used, or creator. Although, "programmer" may be more suitable. I've spoken to whatever it is before. I've spoken to them through my thoughts and seen it answering, in abstract but definite ways.
I feel a bit more relaxed now. Since this is probably just some kind of simulation I am probably not in any real danger. I go to stand up and make an assessment of what to do now. Agony surges through my body as I face-plant into the ground after a damaged ankle prevents me from standing up.
I roll over and scream at the sky; "See! This is why I never liked you!"
The flood of frustration comes back to me. Why if this is a simulation do these crappy things have to happen? Why is someone or something watching this? Why am I shot on a beach when I hate guns and am not even partial to sand much? What is this! Even these crappy things aside, why is the sim so limited? Why can't I just fly away from this damn beach?
I am not saying these words aloud but am ranting in my head and sure something is aware I am. Some people may call this "praying" but I think of it more as a mental suggestions and feedback box.
Why the puddle of water? For crying out loud. Wires out the head and puddles of water. What kind of sick sense of humour is this?
I heard thudding boots, someone is running past. They stop when they see me. They stand there, saying nothing. Just gawking at me.
I lift myself up onto my elbows to look at them. "What are you staring at?", I snap at them.
A smile breaks out on their face. There is a slight shake of the head.
"I can't believe you are still bitter you can not fly", they say as they run and run off.
"There were other things too!", I shout after them. I can hear a sort of "hmm" sound and a chuckle.
I turn back to the sky, fixing it with a glare.
"Are you going to get me out of this or not?", I say aloud.
I lay back, angling my drooping wires away from the water, and I wait for my answer.
​
​ | 2018-11-28T05:29:46 | 2018-11-28T04:42:09 | 342 | 44 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | "So your power is you can talk to animals?"
The police officer looks incredulous. I shake my head.
"I can talk to crows."
"Crows. Only crows?"
I nod. It's not easy to explain such a seemingly useless power. Well, useless until today.
An image of flurried wings and blood flashes through my mind. And the screams. Oh God, the screams. I wince.
The officer leans back. I know I should have a lawyer present, but I can't seem to care. What I did - I didn't mean to, but it was so awful.
"Just...tell me what happened." He gazes at me sympathetically.
"I..." I feel tears prick my eyes and take a deep breath. "I didn't mean to - I was scared, I just wanted to get away..." I look down at the bruise on my wrist. He had squeezed so hard when I tried to leave.
The officer says nothing. I try to gather myself.
I miss my crows. I can feel them close, though. Surrounding the police station. I saw them when they brought me in. Hundreds of them, silent and watching. There are probably thousands of them now. My powers are out of control. But my crows give me strength.
From the time I was young, I felt a connection to the clever, mischievous birds I fed. They were one of my only constants in life. I was kind of a loner, an only child in a broken home. Absent father, manipulative mother.
I remember leaving home at 18, the screaming match my mother and I had. She tried so hard to keep me from going outside. She knew, as soon as I stepped foot out the door, the crows would be there.
I remember how they descended on the house. Hundreds of them. Silent and watching. Much like today.
For a long time, the crows were all I had. After a three day siege, my mother couldn't take it anymore. She begged and begged me to send them away, but I wouldn't. I couldn't. My powers were out of control, much like today.
I remember the look on her face as I left. Relief. I think that's what I saw. It kills me even to this day.
Maybe she knew.
"I just wanted it to be over. I was sick of the..." I don't want to say abuse, but I can't think of another word. I loved him. I hated him. I hated myself. I still hate myself. "Sick of the fighting."
Yeah right. The bruises speak for themselves. Tears well in my eyes. I take a deep breath.
"I was finally honest with myself. I think that's what happened. I tried to leave the house, I had my bag packed, money, a bus ticket. But he tried to stop me."
I had opened the front door to leave after another fight, one of the worse ones. He had slapped me. It was the last straw.
The promises turned to threats as I grabbed my things and opened the door to leave.
He grabbed my wrist. And that was it.
I'll never forget the beating wings, the sound of flesh tearing.
The screams.
"I didn't mean to," I whisper.
The officer nods. "Look," he says, "this is a...unique case. But the fact is we can't really charge you, because technically, *you* didn't do anything. The department wants to put it behind us, chalk it up to a freak accident."
They're scared of me. I would be too. The siege of crows has only lasted a few hours. But that's hours too long for their taste.
I see the crows as they lead me to the front doors of the station. The sky is black with them, the trees out front laden with them, and silently, they watch. I can feel the unease of everyone around me. But my heart fills with affection for my beautiful birds.
They tell me I'm free to go. I know they hope I take my crows with me. They needn't worry. Where I go, they go.
It's how it has always been. How it will always be. | "Where'd you go. . ."
The boot came into view first. Hard to imagine that thing used to be stark white, but then again it's even more difficult to find a reason why he even needed white boots anyways. Covered in a mix of dry and wet mud coming off the sides. Must be a nightmare having that guy as a roommate.
I held my breath as he got near me.
Then again what are the chances he even has a home.
No, that's rude. Bad Luke.
Why is it rude? Being homeless didn't make him less of--
This wasn't the time for thinking.
"I know you're here somewhere." He pulled of the black beanie, providing a very clear view of his thin hair at the back of his skull. Like an eye of the storn but bigger than the storm. A full view right up front of me.
"Come on." He drawled, spinning around the damp deadended alleyway, arms extended. "Eh?"
My heart dropped to my stomach as his eyes landed on me, then looked away. Thank the stars, I can controll my dirtiness.
"Help me out, man." he stalked over to a dumpster, bending over a pile-- Goodness gracious, why is there a pile? The dump is just right there. "It's not like I'm taking your money. Just your time."
"Just your time." he repeated, pushing the parts around, until a metal handle came into view. "Unless you decide to be difficult about it."
Straightening up, holding a rusted old crowbar, the man did another sweep of the alley.
"I saw what you can do." he stopped at the corner. "I don't suppose your power involves flight. Unless the wind blew you to the air, there ain't no way you're outta here."
He paced forward again, slinging the metal bar on his shoulder with one arm, pocketing his knitted headwear with another. "So you are hiding somewhere here. The question is--"
CLANG!
I could swear I hopped up just a teensy bit on the window sill.
There was a small dent on the dumpster.
"Where?"
The man started walking again, a wet plop in each step, shoes drenched from chasing me up from the riverbank.
"I like shiny things. Jewellry, bling, all them sparkly shit, worth a fuck-ton of money." Items in the pile came flying outwards with a swing. "Mah best bud calls me a crow, see something nice, I swoop down and take it."
"And I like powers too."
Can a penny gulp? I don't know, and testing that now may not be my best plan.
He lifted the rusty bar up to his face, almost looked like he was admiring it. "But powers are like sand in the water, they slip soon enough."
Getting back to striding, he went past me again. "And I don't know why you can turn into money, but I have a use for it."
"I just need you turn into a thousand for me, just for a few hours. You look like you eat enough, hanging out in a cash registrar for a while shouldn't cause you to starve to death."
"When night swoops in, whoop!" he swung at the air. "You can go sneak yourself out."
"And I wont bother you no more."
Jimmy said the same thing first time he wanted lunch money. I learned soon that Jimmy was a liar.
"Or I can borrow your powers for a while and find myself being picked up by someone who does have some cash." he pondered.
"But that would be too much of a hassle. Too much complications for me. So I made it simple for you instead."
Simple, my butt.
"What do you say, kid?"
No.
"Would you help, an old man out."
Please. Leave already. I'm not here. I would rather be snuggled up in a nice wallet somewhere, not sitting among filthy forgotten old screws on a windowsill as a dirty penny.
"I guess, you decided then."
I wish that I can move while I'm a coin. Will I be even? I felt a mental laugh bubble up. Cause to be honest, I'll just be petrified a sheer fear.
A draft was blowing through, and it was like my saving light.
The man was bent over, looking through pebbles near the trash, his scalp providing a very good view.
Maybe he stole the powers of someone whose hair shows the status of the weather.
The draft started blowing a bit faster, strong enough--
I emerged from the window sill, and wasted no time. Jumped off as high is I can and folded into a bill. I heard the platform break behind and caught a quick glimpse of it as I flew higher up in the air.
The man dashed beneath me but could do nothing but watch as I spiralled up into the air.
Going up and away from the alley, across the river and into the park, straight into the palms of a gradeschooler.
He had a large grin looking down at me, a young girl with pigtails peering over his shoulder.
"Told you my power was luck."
He made to move to to his pocket, which is a big no no.
The sandy ground of the jungle gym was soft enough a landing. Dusting myself as I stood up, I gave a quick dismissive wave at them. The boy's eyes were large, like a very anxious chihuahua waiting for me to come home. And so that's where I headed.
I can almost hear the smile in the littke girl's tone, "Told you I love surprises." | 2019-09-08T09:54:34 | 2019-09-08T08:59:29 | 822 | 111 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I've bought peace to the Middle East.
I've reconciled broken families.
I've ended addiction to opioids.
I've made suicide irrelevant.
And it's the greatest curse anyone can imagine.
While a select few humans have had superpowers awaken, mine is by far the most corrosive to society. My inability to feel possessive or attached has led to the near downfall of our species. There is no more anxiety. No more suffering to struggle against. No allies or enemies. No fear of death. Only the incessant forward march of time.
My inner peace has been shown to be folly. I only ever wanted peace on Earth and Goodwill toward men, yet instead I have created apathy and complacence. Humans atrophy and decay. My mere presence is enough to wipe clean any ambition of those unfortunate enough to be near.
No drive to cure cancer, so my mother died. No aggression against drunk drivers, and so my brothers were killed and the police only brought body bags. No fear of ignorance, and so libraries burned without anyone inside.
I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please, God, give me the misery I need to grow strong. Because my apology is only words, and I don't care to get off the couch. | The names Bond. Just Bond. That's my name. Don't wear it out! It's just my personality showing through my powers, the name is merely a reflection of that. You know what I mean, we all have a power or a quirk of some sort, matches the personality. I've told you this before, but you keep forgetting. Or maybe I keep forgetting. I don't know. But here's the thing about me: I can stick to anything. Objects, people's, abstract concepts... *Memories*... or maybe it's the other way around. Theres only one drawback, that I can remember.
Nothing seems to stick to me. I can't remember much, all my relationships dissolve, I can never stick to any one thing for too long. I've had hundreds of jobs. Or maybe things can't stick to me? I'm not sure. It's been a long time since the Power Appraisal Test. I think I still have the pencil I used somewhere in my hair.
Thing is, I stick to everything, but nothing sticks to me. I can climb walls, people get attached emotionally to me, and one time I even walked on air by clinging to the molecules. Or did the molecules cling to me? Sooner or later everything gets attached to me. But I can never form my own attachments to anything, or anyone. People cling to me in their hearts, but I can't love them back. Attachments are dangerous, fearful. Scary.
I tried loving once. She called me clingy, needy, attention needing. Or maybe I called *her* that? Oh, how I wish I could remember. I miss her, sometimes. And sometimes, I don't miss her. I've always had this trouble with forming attachments of some sort. That's the one thing I *can* remember clearly. Most of my memories slide off of my brain like... Something that's slippery. I miss her, even though she's still with me. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we don't. I wonder where she went.
I'm going to have to leave you now. It was nice having this talk, but my chair is already bonding to my skin, soon to be absorbed completely into me, my personality. If people hang around me for too long, they get attached. Not just mentally, but physically. I've already got two minds, I don't need another. You'll never be able to forget me, though I'll certainly forget you. I'm sorry. You asked about me, and this always happens when someone notices me. I think.
Goodbye. I'll think of you in her dreams, she remembers things that I can't. I miss her. | 2019-09-08T10:01:27 | 2019-09-08T09:58:43 | 61 | 32 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | Mike was leaning on me rather heavily, as the office Christmas party began to die down. ‘So,’ he slurred, ‘Whatss yo-your ability, Amily?’ Instead of words, I decided it was better to show him. I tentatively touched his arm, and we were transported into a world of our own. We were sitting beneath a palm tree, on a sunny Hawaiian island. Typical holiday kinda thing. He gaped, and looked around. ‘Is-Is this real?’ He asked. ‘Touch something.’ I replied. He reached out to grab a handful of sand, but all he could feel was the wooden stool beneath him. He still looked surprised though. Suddenly, there was a this and the illusion died away. Mike had fallen off the stool and was grinning drunkenly.
Over the next couple of weeks I didn't see Mike that much. We both had a lot of work. Occasionally I'd see him walking past my cubicle, but that was about it. Finally, one day in January as I was was leaving work he stopped me just outside. ‘Amily, I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go out with me this Friday afternoon?’ I smiled, sadly. I patted his arm. ‘I'm sorry, Mike. I-I don't see you that way. ’ I lied through my teeth. He looked down, crestfallen. ‘Ah...right then. See you tomorrow, then.’ He walked away. I got into my car, and drove home. As I was unlocking my apartment I let the tears begin to flow. I rested my head against the door before going inside. I sat down. ‘Amily, get it together.’ I wiped away my tears and went to pick up the post. As I looked through the various pamphlets, one caught my eye. It was an advertisement for the therapy clinic that had opened up down the road. I stayed like that for a while, just staring at it. Then I made the decision.
It was four months later and I was finally ready to open up. Jill, the therapist, sat there patiently. I exhaled through my nose. ‘I was seven years old. My..father...was drunk again. He had come home and hit my mother, and she was unconscious. See, he had super strength. And he definitely didn't use it for good. I was hiding in the attic, hearing him bellow my name. I-I heard my sister, Josie-’ I stop, and wipe my eyes. ‘ I heard her trying to calm him down. She was trying to use her gift. She could make people fall asleep whenever she wanted. But this time, my father..’ I let out a sob. ‘ He..he hit her into the wall, and when she didn't get back up again he became even more enraged. He heard my sobs and came into the attic. He raised his hand...and I suddenly wished he was being ripped apart. And then he started screaming. I had conjured an illusion of him being ripped apart by wild dogs. It drove him insane. But I remember, the last thing he had ever said to me. It was after he had given me a beating for saying I had a friend. “Don't ever let anyone in, Amily. They'll use you and toss you away.” Jill stares at me, shocked before composing herself. 'Well... congratulations for sharing.'
This is my first work, so constructive criticism is welcome! | My power is unique to me, and me alone. You see, I’ve always believed that current modern society wasn’t for me; it always felt like I was stuck in a prison, and as “free” as I was in this prison, it was still a prison. I’m very introverted, you see, so I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself, and it didn’t help that I felt so much pressure from my family and the world around me to make something of myself. This prison had layers, you could say. You couldn’t just say, “fuck what society asks of you, be you and do what you love if it doesn’t hurt anyone,” that’d be crazy. Instead, you’d get a more indoctrinated response from everyone telling you that if you didn’t follow the trends or go with the flow that you’d never make it out in life, or that if you didn’t do x-thing, you couldn’t become successful. In fact, a lot of people’s artificial happiness were based on the superficial opinions of others and it drained me a lot. Eventually, I just didn’t give a fuck. Fuck this system of people talking down to me just because they never dared to dream and fuck them for never having dared to chase their passions. They were trained by society to be this way and they were trained in the same way to never exceed this low plateau. In a way, I became a trailblazer of sorts. People were drawn to me and followed closely as they too began to chase their dreams and passions.
That’s how it all started.
One day, I met a teenager who expressed his utmost respect for me, for I was the sole reason why he was able to achieve his dream at such a young age. Impressive, right? At such a young age, all I could do was dream and hope for the best, but here was a young man who told me he had already achieved his dream. I asked him what his dream was and in response, he told me, “it’s better if I show you instead.”
I couldn’t believe it.
The young man was... flying. He wasn’t just floating a few feet above ground, he was pushing speeds above fifty kilometers per hour with twists and turns that no plane or copter could imitate. The sight of seeing a fellow human fly in such a manner was nothing short of marvelous. “What splendid technology! How did you come up with such an invention?” I asked in anxious curiosity.
“Technology? Oh, I’m not really that smart, but I kind of just took your advice and believed in myself and my dreams because it didn’t hurt anyone. My dream is to fly and be as free as the wind, to not be chained by the social constructs of society and to never be tethered to anything I’m not emotionally or spiritually invested in. After meditating on these thoughts for a week or so, I went to go play basketball with a few friends and ended up making my first dunk... from the other side of the court. It was crazy! I’m only five feet and six inches tall and I literally soared over the court. You had to be there to believe it. When I got home, I jumped to get to the top of my roof. Then I jumped from the roof to see how high I could jump and I just... never fell down. That’s when I realized I could float! I continued to push these tests and realized I could even move in the air; slowly at first, but eventually I flew so fast that my body couldn’t handle the speed that I was approaching. It’s absolutely insane! None of this would have happened if you never came to my high school to be a speaker for our “Hopes and Dreams” spirit week half a year ago.”
He was the first. Eventually, more and more people came to me, all with new revelations, all with new abilities. It took me a few years to understand the catalyst for this change; the only people who developed new powers were those who adopted my philosophy.
“As long as you don’t hurt anyone, you are free to live your life the way you want to and be free to pursue your own happiness.”
You ask me what my power is, Mr. Interrogator, so I will now enlighten you: my power is freedom at its highest, most noble degree. As long as I never hurt anyone, I am free to do whatever it is I like. My followers share the same sentiment, for we are the misunderstood, we are the forgotten, we are the outcasts shunned by your society. We are the dreamers who dreamed to dream, we are the hopeful who hoped for a chance at happiness. We have never hurt anyone for we understand how it feels to hurt, and yet here we are in this very predicament, Mr. Interrogator, chained at your leisure because your superiors fear us. So I say this now, Mr. Interrogator.
You can never chain us. We will always be free. | 2019-09-08T11:37:20 | 2019-09-08T11:02:00 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] As most wishing stars are hundreds of light years away, it takes millennia for wishes to come true. The year is 2835, and strange and confusing things have begun to happen. | Once upon a time, a boy wished upon a star.
*I wish I get the Neo Featherman Ranger collection for my birthday please!*
Once upon a time, a girl wished upon a star.
*I wish Godzilla was real so he could destroy my school so I won't have to do any homework.*
Once upon a time - well. You get the idea. Unfortunately, their wishes will not be granted for another few thousand years, by which time that little boy and that little girl will be long dead.
Wishes wished upon a star, you see, are like messages in a bottle - they get lost in the endless expanse of the sea or space, sometimes destroyed by chance, other times accidentally swallowed by unsuspecting wildlife (the message, at least). And sometimes, when they are found, the finder tosses it in the trash.
There is, of course, the additional obstacle of having the wish just not be relevant anymore. That girl's wish, for example. How likely is it that her school will still stand three hundred years from now, let alone three thousand? These wishes are marked as spam and deleted.
But a few make it through. A few lucky wishes that persevered, that caught the eye of a wishing-star, that were just vague enough to be relevant were granted.
How unfortunate, then, that one such wish was made in a fit of fury by a misanthropic teenager in the year 928 BCE after experiencing the worst, most horrible, no-good day.
*I wish the world didn't exist.* | So I got to go now but there's a start here. Let me know if you want to know how it continues!
“They’ve found another one.” Said Felix as he walked into the office. “This guy had almost no clothing and whirling a spear around”.
“Where are they taking him right now? And again the strange language?” Detective Rosemary asked as she turned off her hologram projector, she had been walking around the last crime scene Felix had scanned.
“He sounded a bit different, but I heard similarities with the one you were just watching. They’re taking him to the secured care-center for a brainwave download as we speak, just like the last two.” Felix answered as he moved to his float-desk.
“Have you already heard something of the last downloads?” Rosemary questioned further “And be sure to send me the scan of this scene as soon as you can” She said as she saw Felix already connecting his scan eye to the machine.
“I got the report of the brain during the scan” Felix said as she saw him tapping the side of his head “sending it to you now, I couldn’t make anything of it.”
Rosemary tapped the side of her head and received the message with the brain file. “Thanks Felix” she said as she went through the report.
“There are a few memory shards to, be sure to check those out soon too.” Felix said with a face she would describe as a ‘funny’ face. She went to the memory shards Felix had described and found and quickly understood Felix. The man whose memories she was looking at felt severely primitive and so was the memory. She saw a few people in the memory working hard hauling stones to a build site while some where getting flogged for being too slow. It felt like she had gone back in time, the memory was short and soon after the flogging it ended.
“Strange indeed.” Rosemary said to Felix as he was still eying her funny.
“It’s outstanding weather don’t you think sir?” Grant heard Lenard say to him as he was staring out the window.
“Don’t you find it much too hot Lenard?” He answered puzzled by what was happening outside. It had been centuries since the last heat wave, the climate has always been fully within human control after the late 21th century crisis. I mean, it’s March but these few last days feel like it’s a normal summer day, I heard the micromanage farms are even thinking about opening their hatches. He turned around and looked at Lenard who was standing at the door of his study.
Lenard had always been a trusted colleague in his search for better understanding of lost worlds and with these last days, he felt they would need to catalogue every minor incident which had happened.
“Are you alright sir” Lenard asked as he surely saw Grants face make a twitch.
“Yes please excuse me Lenard, Rosemary is trying to reach me” He said, as he felt the pulse within his mind.
EDIT: Formatting | 2019-11-25T10:36:52 | 2019-11-25T10:28:36 | 43 | 15 |
[WP] 50 years ago, NASA determined a rogue planet would hit earth, destroying us all. The rich poured their fortunes into space travel and fled... but the rock missed, and now the survivors won't take them back. | How would you react if you learned you had 50 years to live?
Some of us dedicated ourselves to volunteer work and charity. Others quit their job and began travelling the world. For me, it didn't change much -- I just didn't think about it.
But for a very small minority of us, they reacted far differently. They, too, faced the same predicament as us all. These were the men and women with the resources to enact change and ignite hope in the face of utter annihilation. Trillions of dollars in net worth. Leaders of corporations that shaped our lives.
And for a moment it seemed like they would finally redeem themselves. Unimaginable amounts of money were invested in space travel. Research in extraterrestial living grew by leaps and bounds. The world watched in anticipation as the top 1%, so often blamed for all the world's travesties, took the lead to save humanity.
I wasn't really surprised when they left.
It seemed callous, yes. The public outcry was massive, as expected. The rich and untouchable had abandoned us and saved themselves. Wouldn't this be the very definition of hypocrisy and selfishness? "Savages", we called them. There was no other word for it.
They said the meteor would strike on 15th January 2070.
What could only be described as divine retribution took place on the 16th.
We still don't quite understand what happened. There was no catastrophic impact, only a handful of scattered meteorites all over the planet. A few lives were lost, but nothing civilization-ending. The current theory is that the meteor was ripped apart by the gravitational pulls of Earth, Mars and Jupiter.
Some of the pieces were flung into Earth. Most into empty space. One collided with the spacecraft in high Earth orbit holding two hundred souls.
They called for help. The few technicians who were there to receive the call relayed the situation to the rest of the world. The remaining politicians convened to discuss what could be done. Experts were invited to express their professional opinion on the matter.
A vocal majority, on the other hand, decided that assistance should not be provided.
"What have they ever done for us?" "This is our chance to rebuild a new world and to learn from our mistakes!" "We're better off without them."
On the 18th of January, every man, woman and child on that spaceship suffocated to death.
It wasn't callous. It wasn't savagery. They made their choice. We made ours. They chose to abandon us, didn't they? No reasonable person in the same position would have sent humanity off to its extinction! They had been willing to let seven billion men, women and children perish! They made their choice!
I sometimes wonder what was going through their heads as they realized they were going to die.
Did they shake their fists at us in a rage?
Did they hold their families close as they prayed?
Did they hope that we would be better people than they were?
But then I shrug those thoughts off and go back to my day. There are many things that need attention in this new age of humanity.
We are going to build a new world, devoid of the corruption and immorality that plagued us before. | "Well thank GOD for Daddy's "rainy day" fund he put together for us before he passed away. If it weren't for his company, we'd have been blasted into oblivion 50 years ago, amiright, Christine?"
​
"Ohmigosh Willy you are SO right. Daddy was the best. We're so fortunate."
​
Captain Pierce shook her head. *You're so fortunate. More like privileged, spoiled, and ignorant.* 50 years ago, she was deemed the best possible pilot for the survival of the rich and famous. She had an excellent track record, and an outstanding ability to overcome and adapt. She'd always known she was good, but when the news came that Earth was going to be demolished by a rogue planet, she settled into acceptance that she would soon be dead. She wasn't panicked or scared. She was exhausted and ready to be at peace.
​
And then one night she was pulled from her warm home and thrown into a conference room with 15 powerful men and 2 powerful women who told her she'd been chosen to Pilot a massive trillion dollar spacecraft they'd named the *One Percent.* It would save all of the planets privileged from certain death and allow them to live for another 100 years so that they could hopefully find new life somewhere.
​
Of course, she'd said no. She had no interest. "Are you crazy?!" They'd said, not understanding why she'd pass up this Hail Mary of an opportunity at survival. After all, she wasn't ever going to be able to afford a ticket on her own. As a NASA employee, she had a lot of money, but no where near the billions necessary to secure one of a 1,000 spots on the spaceship.
​
"Too bad." They said. "You WILL pilot the *One Percent*. Or we'll bring you anyways and force you to clean the shit from the toilets with your bare hands." That had been a dramatic twist. She almost laughed when they said it, because there was no way that was a threat people used in the real world. She rolled her eyes and mentally weighed her options. *I can be exhausted and hate my life and literally touch a plethora of different shits for the rest of my godforsaken life. Or I can lock myself in the command center and pilot the ship and hopefully no one will bother me.*
​
She had accepted the position. And now here she was, stuck in the *One Percent* with the WORST people she'd ever come into contact with. Even her crew were a bunch of spoiled brats, only chosen to help pilot the ship because of their money. Apparently they only needed one brilliant and capable person in charge to be fully confident that the spacecraft wouldn't go down. And god forbid any of them ever shut the command center's fucking door so she could get away from the whining of the poor rich kids who had nothing better to do than roam the hallways and brag about Daddy and Mommy's money.
​
In the middle of her mental rant, she noticed something concerning in the communications system. *It looks like...."*HOLY SHIT!"
​
The passengers in the hallway stopped talking and peeked their heads through the doorway and into the command center where Captain Pierce had her hands wrapped through her hair in frustration, pacing and mumbling to herself. "picking up on NASA communications.....NASA still exists.....If the calculations were off.......holy fucking SHIT." She whipped around to face the crowd of crew members and passengers gathered at the back of the command center.
​
They stared eagerly at her, wondering what could be causing this show. Captain Pierce began to smile. First, a regular smile that caused those watching her to smile, too. Seeing the hope fill in the eyes of the wealthy brats who abandoned those who were too poor to save themselves back on Earth, she burst into uncontrollable, maniacal laughter.
​
The crowd became uncomfortable, folding into themselves and then hurling snarky insults at their insane Captain. A few minutes passed and Captain Pierce finally stood up straight and pulled herself together, wiping tears from her eyes and clearing her throat.
​
"You 'fortunate' people collectively spent almost all of the money on Earth to save yourselves in this wretched ship that won't last longer than another 50 years.....and the rogue planet fucking MISSED."
​
The snarky faces around her all fell flat as she fell on the floor laughing once again. | 2019-12-07T06:54:50 | 2019-12-07T04:12:49 | 981 | 640 |
[WP] 50 years ago, NASA determined a rogue planet would hit earth, destroying us all. The rich poured their fortunes into space travel and fled... but the rock missed, and now the survivors won't take them back. | They returned from their eliptical orbit, tangential to earth's, intended to survey the destruction of their home as they pulled a slingshot towards Alpha Centauri, the nearest though very long shot.
To their surprise, the Earth they found was not just intact but much the same, even down to a new crop of trillionaires. Life continued without their presence, as their leaving simply created vacancies in the social heirarchy.
Hopeful, glad to be home and genuinely glad to not bear witness to the shattered graves of billions, the command module beamed greetings and joyous music to their ancestral domicile, expecting surprise and elation at their return.
And then a day went by. An entire day.
After 24 hours of continued transmission, the surpassed elites recieved a single, staticky response.
" New phone. Who dis?" | Dear Mom,
Today is the day. The most important day of my life up until now. Today, I will set foot on Earth for the first time! I'm excited, but quite scared too. How will the masses react? What can we do in the first few days? How do we settle forever? I'm glad Papa has given me many of his notebooks, but we were slowly running out. Are there any notebooks left on Earth? I wouldn't know. Ah, Papa is calling me! I'll stop here, and maybe I'll be writing in a new notebook soon!
​
Dear Mom,
We... got rejected? But why? I know Papa and you were rich when you had me, but aren't you heroes? You've saved dozens of lives by taking all of your staff on our space shuttle, and Papa has provided for everyone for the past 13 years! How could Earthens reject us? Don't they see what Papa has done for society?? Either way, Earthens have told Papa to stay away or be engaged in battle for the rest of his days. I am disgusted at their neglect for another human being. I'm just going to practice the piano, so I can maybe ease the tension with my skill next time.
​
Mom,
Have you been lying to me all this time? I've found a room, full of bodies. Human bodies. What is going on? Can I even trust you, or Papa? I'm going to ask one of the servants later. If my suspicion becomes reality, I will never forgive either of you. You know I will not ever hesitate. You know you have done things to me and how twisted I've become because of you. I still love you, but you know.
​
Charlotte,
Why? Charlotte, Mom, why have you lied to me? Have you not caused enough hurt? I know you poisoned them. Papa preferred other methods, the servant said. I am so disappointed. You've used me for this stuff, but I'm your child. I get that much. But to use someone else's child? For horrible, inhumane things like this? That is something I cannot and will not EVER forgive. You've ruined me, and you've ruined whole families. Now, will you excuse me, I have to find Papa's gun. | 2019-12-07T06:59:56 | 2019-12-07T06:54:26 | 94 | 39 |
[WP] 50 years ago, NASA determined a rogue planet would hit earth, destroying us all. The rich poured their fortunes into space travel and fled... but the rock missed, and now the survivors won't take them back. | **19 August, 2086**
*Istanbul, Capital Autonomous Region, Terran Federation*
The city has ground to a halt for the last time. Nobody's at work, nobody's at school, despite it being a Monday. Everyone is at home, their family in their arms. Five minutes until contact.
It was 2036 when NASA, the North American Space Agency, sounded the alarm. A rogue planet, one whose origin was believed - and later confirmed - to be extrasolar, was due to impact the Earth. With a mass half that of Ceres, the impact would destroy all life on Earth and turn the planet's surface into a molten lava for centuries if not millenia. Needless to say, ant humans on Earth would face complete and total extinction, along with any trace of civilization.
Chaos ensued as the word realized it now had an expiration date. From the initial weeks of chaos, the upper class of the world - the 1% - promised to save the world. Money, both private and public - was dumped into space programs. Methods were devised to send ships quickly and cheaply into orbit - space tethers. They could catapult a ship from a mere 30 kilometers above the ground to 1000 in a few minutes, dosing them with massive amounts of energy that could allow them to free themselves from Earth's gravity and send them off to the Moon, Mars, Ceres, and farther. It wasn't long before space infrastructure was built, and the public - or at least the West - believed that they would be able to escape and live on.
Twenty years before impact, the first tickets went on sale...for a mind-boggling price. $100 million per ticket...and the public wised up. They'd been duped, tricked into paying for the rich to leave the planet and leave them to die. Rioting mobs descended upon the manors of the traitorous rich, but...it was too late. They'd already left. With them went the majority of the political class across the world...and the remainder decided to hell with the rich. Let them leave. We never needed them anyways...and thus, with the world knocked off of its own feet, the people took their governments back. On January 1, 2070, the People's Charter was signed. It gave the world new ground to stand on, a new hope at life. One where everyone would live and prosper. The Terran Federation was born...and it got to work. Using the foundation set by the previous world order, the Federation began sending people off...to the Moon, to Mars. They ensured that humanity would live on...at least, some bits of it.
Finally, came the day. 19 August, 2086...the day the Earth would die. The world braced...for nothing. As it would be revealed, a mathematical error had positioned the planet 120,000 kilometers off of it's true location. The planet nearly did hit the Moon, but missed...and it had been going so slow that Earth's gravity captured it, giving the planet a second, smaller moon. As 20 August rose, saying that the world was in jubilation would be a massive understatement. Humanity would live.
And then - a message. From the ship that had abandoned the world twenty years prior. The ship that had sworn off the planet and left its inhabitants to die.
"Congratulations on your survival...hey, can we land back home? We miss you guys."
An emergency meeting of the Federal Council, the legislative and executive body of the Federation, one member from each district. Of course, each district being equally populated, the room was packed with ten thousand people, each representing a constituency of a million. There was little debate on the message to send back to the rogue ship.
"You all are considered traitors to the Federation. Any and all attempts to land or reside within planets controlled by the Federation will be met with swift, lethal action by our armed forces. Do not attempt to contact the Federation again." | The finding of rogue planet SKHE-1115 was one of little fanfare. An astronomer in Pakistan began to track an object that did not have a stellar twinkle, but wasn’t any of the known solar planets. After reporting his findings on several local websites for astronomers, the findings were confirmed by other small-time hobbyists, but quickly picked up by both the Chinese space authorities as well as the European authorities, who worked with international space agencies to identify and track the object.
Some days later, the trajectory had been identified, as well as the approximate mass, and the impact of this object with Earth was predicted with a 90% likelihood, though that likelihood was later understood to have been diminished to give the public some form of hope.
One October 11th, 2021, governments across the globe began disseminating information regarding the impending impact, its effects, and the possibility of survival for the species of Earth. That information was just in time, as the Internet had begun to come alive with buzz about the object, and fear was beginning to crop up. Unfortunately, while being timely, the news was nothing short of horrible, and there was great unrest among populations.
The rich were able to do something about it, however. In the seven months of time between discovery and impact, they poured trillions into a space race which soon consumed the planet, the idea being that they would select travelers through a lottery, so many people would be saved. The result was a series of ships which could be launched, assembled, and then lived in within three months of the initial arrival in orbit.
On the day set out for the beginning of loading and launching, hundreds of thousands of hopeful lottery winners were waking up to make their way to the assigned launch sites. The people who lined the streets, knowing that these were the only humans who would likely survive the week, cheered and sobbed in equal measure. Hundreds were kidnapped, murdered, and replacements were attempted with their documents. All of these things were for nothing, however.
As the throngs approached the front gates of complexes housing hundreds of identical, powerful rockets topped with habitats, storage facilities, and other instrument-laden capsules, they were turned back by paramilitary guards. There were signs of a struggle, and it was clear that the government security had been killed. Word spread from paramilitary guards to the hopeful crowd, and it was not good: the funding families had taken control of the complexes in most countries, and were now boarding to be saved.
The loading was proscribed to take a week, but the preparation of the coup had resulted in that being reduced to two days. During these days hordes of those not chosen and those chosen alike, scorned by power bought through soon useless digits, assaulted the complexes. They knew they would die regardless, and spite made them believe that nobody deserved to live if they couldn’t.
Millions were slaughtered, paramilitary and civilian alike. Several complexes were overrun, destroyed in part or whole, and of the many thousand rockets made, hundreds were damaged to such a state that they could no longer be launched. In spite of this, the launch was begun, in some places vaporizing masses as they attempted, sometimes successfully, to sabotage launches.
Of the over four thousand rockets and modules that would eventually launch, some seven hundred or so wouldn’t make it into orbit at all, and a good number more required serious repair when in orbit, depressurizing in many cases to kill all occupants and throw precious cargo into the hellish friction of the atmosphere.
\------
The rogue planet SKHE-1115 was predicted to hit the Earth with a likelihood of 90%. However, due to the composition of the rogue planet, gases were created when it passed closely enough to the sun and heated up. The expulsion of these gases created enough error in the initial prediction that the likelihood would have dropped, if inclusive of that composition information, much closer to 9%. Still not unimaginable, but the end result would have been much less catalytic to the societies of Earth.
In the seven months that followed the original discovery, much less emphasis was placed on capitalistic pursuits. Most found that the things that had made them happy before became less important. Simple exploration and discovery was found to be much higher, though happiness rates were also strongly impacted by the unpleasant fact of waves of suicides following the initial likelihood reports. By the time of launching, the population of Earth had seemed to find a different perspective. Still self-interested, but unwilling to hurt the other in order to protect the self. The insanity of the launch day, the betrayal, and the massive death toll shook the Earth’s populace, especially once it was revealed that the rogue planet missed.
The months following that resulted in the construction of a habitat on the moon. Space agencies remained in contact with the worked in the habitats, giving advice and providing guidance. The workers were quiet initially about the communication, but it became clear that the Earth wasn’t gone. It hadn’t been hit.
Immediately, calls were made to family and government agencies, requesting a return window and attempting to see what could be done to get them home. While many were somewhat more sympathetic than others, the answer was no. Unequivocally, no. The workers were given an option of coming home, but those who realized what would happen if they took that path were willing to stay and continue their work. They were, after all, space pioneers. All the better that their families were alive. | 2019-12-07T07:52:39 | 2019-12-07T07:32:28 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] All good stories need conflict, but your whole life has been abnormally peaceful: Everyone agrees with you and would never fight you; whoever you like always says yes to you; you live comfortably in a town with perfect weather. YET YOU ARE TIRED OF IT ALL. YOU WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR DRAMA. | I sat at the coffee shop I visited every Sunday. There was something inherently relaxing and perfect about it, but then again there was something perfect about everything in my life. I started to realize how nothing wrong every happened, even remotely. The soothing jazz music stirred my mind like a pot of soup.
Suddenly a thought struck me like a lightning bolt, like Newton watching the apple fall from a tree.
*What would happen if i spilled my coffee? I've never once in my life seen something fall over, what would happen? Would the contents of the cup of coffee even fall out of the mug? It falls into my mouth when I tilt it for a drink. What would happen if I tilted it on the table?*
It felt like everyone was watching me angle the mug more and more to the side. The liquid hugged the edge of the rim. It was on the precipice of breaking through the other side, and then I noticed, yes, the whole cafe was indeed staring right at me.
"Gary! NO!" an acquaintance yelled, but it was too late.
The coffee had spilled.
It beautifully painted the table like a water color masterpiece. Giving the burnt orange table a layer of shiny copper. The whole cafe was in uproar, screaming my name, but a sinister grin grew on my face.
*Chaos?*
r/randallcooper | James slouched at the dinner table, frustrated. Looking around at his
family and friends, he couldn't help but feel ungrateful that they were
all there to celebrate his promotion. Sure, everyone patted him on the
back and congratulated him for his successes. But then again, when did
anything ever go wrong for James?
He picked up his fork and tasted the chicken dish that his mother had
made. It was delicious. Almost too delicious. Lost in his thoughts,
James let go of his fork, which clattered on his plate and then to the
ground.
"James, is everything alright?" said James' dad.
"Fine. Everything is fine," said James.
"What's going on?" his dad persisted.
"You know what? Everything is NOT fine." James said a little too
forcefully. Why couldn't they just understand? James pushed back his
chair and stood up. Heat rose into his face causing his face to flush.
"JAMES. Sit down."
He stormed out of the room before his father could even finish. He
rushed out to the underground garage. He had to get away from it all.
Getting into his candy apple red Ferrari, he knew what he needed to do.
He needed to do something about this drama-free life he's been forced to
live. James had worked at a top-notch tech firm for only 3 months and he's
already been offered the position of CTO. He wasn't the most qualified
man for the job. Yet, that's how life went for James. No conflict, no
drama. Always an easy path to success.
Racing away from the mansion, his mansion, James got on the highway.
He felt his foot touch the floor. Looking at his gauges he could see
that the red speed dial was past the highest number. He tested his car's
strength. Blurs of the other cars surrounded him. How fast was he
going now? 200mph? 250mph? It was hard to tell.
Red and blue lights flashed off the back of his car. When did they show up? He could smell the stench of the engine reaching its limits. He had pushed his car too far.
A narrow miss jolted James to the present. He had almost his a Ford
F-150. That was close.
James smelled the burn of the tires before he realized what was
happening. He was losing control. One of the police cars had hit the
back of his car with such force that it was spinning out.
As the candy apple red Ferrari hit the median it flipped into on-coming
traffic southbound and was hit by a semi-truck.
The Ferrari was smashed to oblivion. James' face was frozen in an awkward smile. He left this life with a bang. | 2020-02-20T16:43:32 | 2020-02-20T14:28:55 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | Have you ever tasted mahogany?'Cause I have. It tastes exactly how you'd imagine it. You see, I turned 16 a couple of months ago. And, as you know, 16 is the age of the Table. I'd thought about it for so long...My Mom chose a cup of ice cold water, and everytime Dad pisses her off, the house freezes over. I ain't going for that. Oddly enough, Dad chose the Jalapeño. Guess who has to heat up the house when mom gets angry?
I, on the other hand, never knew what to choose. Should I go for the jellyfish? My cousin did, and it's really annoying when he decides to turn invisible.The potatoes? Manipulating earth and all is cool and all, but...it gets messy and muddy.
But, hey, I guess you know all about this, so what's the point of rambling on?
I thought about it for years. Believe me, I went through every single choice. And they just...Didn't cut it for me. Then, it hit me. The Table. Of course! There was no record of someone trying to bite the Table before!
So, yeah, I did it. I bit the Table.
And let me tell you, the last thing I was expecting was to get the ability to see and speak to God. Well, not speaking, I guess. I can write to you, though. Don't worry, I know it's been a while since you've talked to a human. I'll live my days, quietly observing you, sitting there reading my story. Just...Do me a favor. Could you make mahogany taste a little better? | The Arbiter was looked tired of our shit. Me and my friend, Melty still hadn't decided much to the annoyance of literally everyone else.
"C'mon guys, just pick one!" yelled Clarissa, shooting a blank at us with a finger gun. One more reason to hate licorice bullets, I suppose.
"Kids, there isn't a time limit here but none of you can leave until everyone has chosen. Melty and Albeda, please choose." sighed the Arbiter, tapping his tablet quickly. Melty wasn't the brightest bulb, so she probably wouldn't eat before I did. I really wanted to choose, but there was just so much! The table stretched into infinity, there was a little search bar above the brioche for people with more elusive tastes. Everyone else seemed to pick easily, but I had waited to see what everyone else got. It seemed more basic stuff had more solid powers, and exotic food had either super cool or super drool. Just like the food themselves, perhaps? I was still mulling it over when I felt Jayln step behind me. Her body was beefy, just like her dish.
"Make choice. Or I'll make you bite the wood. You losers might have time to waste, but most of us have things to do." she thundered, leaning threateningly over me. Ah shit. I can't do anything under pressure. A bead of sweat ran down my neck. Everyone was looking at me and Jayln, silent. The meat nomster could only contain her patience for a minute when I made no move to choose. My body was picked up by my head, Jayln's sausage fingers intruding on my vision. I opened my mouth to let out a squeal of surprise, only to be filled with wood, blood and teeth.
"AHHHHH!" I screamed, dropping from the splintered table and held my mouth. I sobbed quietly into my hand, blood dribbling through my fingers. Someone who had taken a gander at Aloe Vera rushed over to me, dulling the pain and restoring my mouth. Clarissa stormed over to Jayln, finger gun already pointed at her head.
"What the hell, man? We just wanted him to pick, not get fucking smashed! Arbiter, can you reverse the power picking? There's no way this psycho should be allowed get back into our world. Albeda might have been seriously hurt if there wasn't a healer." she cried out, to a murmur of agreement. I was seriously injured, I thought.
"Unfortunately no. It's your power for life, not even a Grand Judge can take it away from you. Now, Albeda, your power is-"
"My power?!" I said aghast, only vaguely noting my mouth's functionality. "I haven't eaten anything."
"Criteria is bite, not eat. And Jayln fulfilled her promise, you definitely bit the table. So, your power. You're invisible until you do something wrong."
"I cannot believe this," I muttered. What a shitty ability.
"And Melty's power... " I looked over to my friend in horror as I saw her chewing on her nails in anxiety. | 2020-03-19T12:34:09 | 2020-03-19T10:47:29 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | All the students were getting up to leave class when he heard, "Matthew, might I speak to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Xavier had always been kind to him. Matthew long suspected that Xavier knew he was hiding his full potential but the professor never pushed the subject and treated Matthew like all the other students. He liked feeling normal here. His long standing lie was that he could teleport. Whenever they were required to practice their abilities it put Matthew in a tough spot. The teachers were constantly trying to push his limits and get him to teleport further and further. It's tiring having to run such far distances constantly. Yesterday, the teacher had asked him to try to travel to someplace he had previously been. After faking an attempt for an hour or so the teacher finally relented and suggested they take a break.
"Professor Munroe tells me you had a difficult time yesterday. She was worried she might have pushed you too hard and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I-I'm fine professor. She didn't push too hard. I tried picturing different places but nothing happened. I don't know if I'm able to teleport like that."
"Well, things happen at different paces for everyone. I'm sure you've heard of Kurt by now?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he first came here, he was limited by what he could see as well. He could travel to anywhere in sight, but beyond that, he was too frightened to push himself. It takes extraordinary strength to push limits set by our minds. In time, I'm sure you will be able to overcome anything you set your mind to."
"Thank you professor."
"Matthew, have you made any friends since you started here? I don't see you with the other students very often."
"No sir, I-I think they are frightened of me."
"Why is that?"
"They avoid me, and I hear them saying things about me."
"Teleporting is an enviable gift. I'm sure they will come around in time."
"I guess."
"Matthew, are you sure there isn't something else? You know I would never use my gift on anyone without permission but it doesn't take a mind reader to see that something is bothering you."
"Professor, c-can you keep a secret?"
"Of course, Matthew. Anything you tell me would be kept between us."
Eyes to the floor Matthew said, "I have been lying to you and the other teachers. I can't teleport."
Professor Xaviers remained quiet as if telling Matthew to continue.
"I-I was afraid if you found out what I can do, that you would make me part of your advanced class. I just wanted to feel normal for once. Everyone my whole life has called me a freak and when I got here, I was just another kid. I'm so sorry I lied professor."
"It's okay Matthew. I understand. If I may ask, what is this gift that you were afraid to speak of?"
"It's easier if I show you."
"Lead the way."
The two of them left the office and went into the crowded hallway watching the kids on their way to various classes. Matthew reached over and set his hand on Xaviers shoulder and everyone froze. Turning to Matthew, Xavier said, "Well, it certainly is an extraordinary gift. The ability to freeze time is no small feat. I can't say I've ever met another mutant with this ability, Matthew."
"Are you going to kick me out of the school for lying to you?"
"No, Matthew. I understand why you kept this from us. It is an incredible burden to have control over time. I imagine it can be quite lonely."
Nodding his head Matthew was tearing up a little.
"Matthew, I'm going to keep this between us until you're ready to tell other people. Would you be okay with having private lessons with me once a week to learn to better control this power of yours?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very good. Bring us back to real time and let us join the rest of the students. It's nearly time for your next class." | Time is a weird concept.
We all can see the effects of it's passage. We feel it in how the new replaces the damaged, the young take over for the old, the slow inevitable shift of all things around us. Time has a grip on all that cannot be broken.
Or rather, we have a grip on it.
Imagine for a moment that Time does not pull on us, but we pull on Time. We hold it in a vice grip in the back of our minds, unaware of how tight the stranglehold is. And we continue to do so until the day of our inevitable death, when consciousness flees and the grip is broken, for we no longer need a meaning for Time.
That might give you an idea what it feels like to wake up one day suddenly aware of a third hand gripping something like a perpetually drowning man.
To be honest I couldn't even put words to what it was I could do once I got this ability. I thought it was some fancy form of teleportation. That's what I told everyone. At least when they weren't trying to kill me.
Then a mutant buddy lent me a couple copies of a weird manga. A manga about vampires and breathing and something called stands and... stopping time. That's what kind of gave me a clue about it.
It also gave me a clue about shutting my mouth about it. Not just because it was way stronger than teleportation, but because quite frankly I'd heard plenty of stories about what happened to super strong mutants. Anyone in the mutant community had. Stories of the kind of people who hunted them down and did things far worse than just killing.
That's what caused me to make up my mind and go find the X-Men. To find Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. The only safe place on earth.
It wasn't hard to find to be completely honest. You could hardly walk in a suburb or corner with mutants on it, known or otherwise, without talk about the school. Anyone could find it if they wanted, but no one could get in if they weren't permitted. So figuring it out was the easy part.
The journey itself was the hard part. As certain as it was there were people who could actually take me to the school, it was just as likely to be a trap. Maybe it was paranoia kicking in but I wasn't exactly keen on the Brotherhood or other government sponsored groups having any chance of tracking me down. So I made the journey on foot.
Well... on foot being a loose term for hitchhiking rides and long frozen walks. It's easy to get through checkpoints or find free transportation when no one wants to admit they didn't see you there before. Because that would be admitting to their own negligence. Plus side of all this is I got good practice both with my gift and with disguising it.
After a couple weeks and a few close calls I was stood on the front lawn, admiring the massive complex for all it's glory. It was quite the marvel, emerald grass as far as the eye could see, an imposing campus that could pass for a modern day castle, water features that would make the White House envious, all in all an impressive display.
"Breath taking isn't it?"
Not discovering a new superpower for flight was quite impressive after a scare like that. Somehow this bald gentleman in a wheelchair had snuck up in complete silence. Then again this WAS a school for mutants, it'd make sense for someone to appear from thin air.
Gentleman in a wheelchair... why did that sound familiar?
"Apologies," he turned to present himself, "I did not mean to startle you. You seemed rather caught up in admiring my school, so I took it upon myself to extend a welcoming hand."
This was professor Xavier? It would make additional sense he could both find someone who had just arrived and appear from thin air in that case. He was, after all, the single biggest rival to Magneto and a veritable super mutant in his own right.
"Now if you are here by yourself I would be remiss if I did not inquire as to the meaning of your visit. If I may, you are a young mutant here to enroll yes?"
If it was possible to make it any more obvious it would doubtless require both military grade explosives and enough neon to blind a small country.
"Naturally. Well if you be so kind as to follow me we can begin your orientation... Ah but I am getting ahead of myself. Would you be so kind as to demonstrate your gift?"
And immediate crashing of the parade. A demonstration, of the many ways planned to hide the time stopping powers, especially in the middle of an open field, was not in the plan. Actually... There was ONE idea.
The discomfort must have been equally clear as the eagerness to dear Professor X. "Pardon my rudeness, for some of us our gifts are a bit of an awkward topic. It is quite alright, but you should know that here you are among friends. Colleagues. People who are willing to accept you for who you are. When you feel comfortable sharing by all means do so, at your own pace, in your own time."
It would take a long time indeed to share the true nature of the mutation, and longer still to realize the entire time the Professor had not truly said a word, had not truly been on that lawn, and that he had been doing a bit of his own trickery with time. | 2022-11-09T16:36:25 | 2020-07-15T08:19:27 | 9,106 | 26 |
[WP] You are a demon trapped in an ancient temple build by a long dead civilization. Today, after millennia, an archaeologist finds you. Now you need to convince him to free you from the magic circle. | "Perhaps I can offer you a dea-" The scholar rudely cuts me off with her laughter.
"What, all the world's knowledge including the 'dark arts' so you can carry me off in a few decades?" She scribes notes upon a thin black tablet with a chisel that can can inscribe effortlessly. I notice she pays more attention to the symbols marking my prison than she does to me?
I lean down to tap one symbol, or at least as close as I can without being singed. "You say you are on a mission of knowledge, what this depicts?"
"Well, with what knowledge we have of these peoples I surmise it is depicting a Sky Father esque figure smiting a corrupted being of some sort. Presumably you?" She isn't *entirely* wrong, but that is aside from the point.
"*Surmise* and *Presume* words I am sure you have gotten used to in your career, but ones that must infuriate one seeking to find and record the *unvarnished truth,* no?"
She shakes her head in frustration "It is hard to find primary sources that survive the decline of a civilization, much less the passage of time. At times we have to resort to what we can reconstruct of that era to make... educated guesses about what we lack."
"How that must *frustrate* you. I was there you know? Only reason why I am speaking to you in English is because of infernal powers that let me read your mind. While I am sure that you'd prefer the term 'science you don't understand' to describe such abilities, the more important thing to consider is that you sadly lack them. I can sing to you ballads that oral traditions have forgotten, recite lines of kinds that nature has weathered away from stone, or instruct you on beliefs long dismissed as pagan. Let me out of this circle and I can teach you much about those that lived here, *from a primary source."*
She taps her chisel to her chin in consideration, before sitting cross-legged. "For starters, what were their staple food crops?" | My crumpled form lay hunched over on the sand stone floor. The room is unnaturally cool for being in a desert wasteland of sand and sun, a characteristic abused by the Egyptians when making tombs for Pharos. Lower chance of decomposition. How demoralizing. A god placed into a chamber for kings. My knees are bent, my forehead touching the ground. My arms were both wrapped in chains, as well as my head and neck.
Suddenly, the sound of breaking stone emerged North of me. I moved my head as much as I could, glancing ahead. A glint of metal poked through as cracks spiderwebbed across the bricks. A man with sandy blonde hair stepped through. He was dressed in clothing of light color, as well as having a large hat, most likely to combat the burning sun. His eyes grew wide as his gaze fell upon me. I grinned, my eyes instead narrowing. “Hello there.” He cautiously stepped forward. *”Apophis”* he whispered. I nodded. “That’s one of many terms. However, my favored one is Lucifer.” He nodded as well. “H-how?” Is shrugged slightly, my chains rattling. “Certain spells and incantations, an herbal mixture of two, salt, and of course the sacrifice of a beautiful maiden.” I could sense his heartbeat growing more rapid. “How about this” I said “You free me, and I’ll spare you from my eternal wrath and destruction in my path of vengeance.” He stood straight, attempting a courageous facade. “No. I- I can’t inflict that on humanity. You are powerless here!” I scowled, my eyes burning with rage. “Do you honestly think that some measly chains could withhold the incarnation of sin and chaos?” I ripped my wrists and neck from the shackles followed by my ankles. “I’ve just had no reason to attempt another homicide for the past millennia.” I began to walk forwards. “Maybe the god damned barrier has bee-“ I felt my knees crumple under me. “DAMN THIS!” My fist flew at the invisible wall, the force knocking the man over and shaking the dust. The man stood again, and looked around. “Y-you can’t leave.” I glared. “Not for long.” I lunges at the barrier once more, nearly becoming pure rage incarnate. My eyes grew black as my demonic howls filled the hollow chambers. My hands grew into talons as I slowly pushed through barrier. I could feel the tips of my claws push through, into the open air. I cackled as my face pressed through, nearly to freedom-
# BOOM
The shockwave was tremendous, with the force being repulsed disrupting the structure of my tomb, with stones falling around us. I was sent flying back into the far wall, making a crater roughly the shape of my form. I began to try again until I looked up at the shaking ceiling. I immediately slammed my fist into the floor. More force shook the roof, threatening collapse. The man realized what I was doing. “No...” I grinned. “I can’t break through the barrier. But maybe I can escape through another route.” I slammed my fist down again. The man began to scream, but I did it one more time. The entire tomb collapsed around us, entrapping the man under a mountain of rubble, and giving my a place to escape. I dug through sand and rock until I reached the surface. The sun beat down on my face. I breathed in the air. It was time to begin my conquest. | 2020-12-06T14:37:19 | 2020-12-06T14:21:45 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] The biggest warmongering race of Aliens declare war on the local Galaxy cluster. The opposing group of peace-loving Aliens, who had befriended most Alien races, are finally forced to reveal their secret weapon, a 'classified' species called Humans, and their tenacity as persistence predators. | Thrixal drummed his clawed fingers on the aluminum table, absently poking small holes into the soft material. He pondered to himself why, for the life of him, was he waiting for the soft and fragile ambassador from Andromeda to appear.
Killing them didn't even seem worth it. It was too easy. Their race was not like his. His people were strong, fierce, and resilient. Bones like pure steel, armored scales like stone, and with many claws and teeth with which to rip and tear. He had seen the ambassador. He could snap their bones like twigs.
So why wait? Why bother entertaining them?
<<I appreciate your patience.>> A quiet voice resonated from within his mind. <<I will be there in a moment.>>
Thrixal stiffened slightly, one of his armored spines piercing the back of his chair. He looked to his side at the door just as it hissed open and the frail Aromite stepped in, a glass haptic tablet glowing faintly under one arm.
"I do not like having my mind probed, twig." Thrixal snarled through clenched jaws.
<<I am sorry, but it is the only way my kind can communicate directly. If you would prefer, I can write the messages down and have you read them. Are you familiar with the Chilai Syrrilic script?>>
This was a tactic often formed by the meek and feeble, as Thrixal well knew. To appear harmless and accommodating and lull your opponent into a false sense of security while you prepared a weapon to take them out from behind.
<<Nothing so complex, I assure you.>> The Aromite stated. <<Simply trying to negotiate.>>
Thrixal grunted and picked his teeth with one claw, a gesture of mild threat that appeard lost on the Aromite, whose race were born blind save for a handful of soft divots which dotted its skull to detect heat. Thrixal, being cold blooded, likely appeared as a shadow to the being.
"Speak."
<<Gladly.>> The Aromite pulled up an image on its haptic tablet. An expansive view of the galactic cluster filled the space above the table. <<These are the galaxies you are prepared to wage war on. Each home to thousands of habitable worlds containing intelligent life forms. Trillions of beings with homes, lives, and desires.>>
Thrixal rolled his eyes at that. Empathy would get them nowhere.
A second image took place of the first, an older Kahnna, its skin now pale lavender with age, garrying two brilliant purple offspring.
<<These are the lives you would chose to extinguish, the races you would drive to extinction.>>
A rotating image of the Aromite crest filled the air
<<Lives that we have sworn to defend.>> The Aromite stated flatly, the words echoing slightly in Thrixal's mind <<And you must understand that we take that promise seriously.>>
The scales on Thrixal's hands shifted slightly, flattening against the skin in preparation for a fight. "Are you saying that you will declare war upon us? And you, *you,* will fight us off?"
<<Don't be ridiculous.>> A new image began to form, a spiraling helix of pure Aromite DNA. <<But do not think we are unprepared for your level of threat.>>
The strand of DNA was joined by another, marked "Chilai", and another marked "Silar". More and more strands lined up, each marked to the dominant species of a different planet.
<<We spent many many millenia building and constructing a new being. One that would combine all of our DNA into the perfect warrior. Strong, resilient, and ready to fight at any cost.>>
The air hung thick as more images filled the the space above the table. Massive quadrupedal beasts with twin tusks or crowns of pronged bone that expanded for whole meters, eight-legged armored beasts with barbed tails.
Thrixal felt excitement fill him. A challenging beast such as these would provide him with many opportunities to prove his might on the field.
<<These are not the warrior. Not even close. Two of these have gone extinct at their hands. The third is only a pest to them. Truth be told, their greatest proving ground has been against one another.>>
The next image was of a biped. A few heads shorter than Thrixal. Its skin was pale and soft, covered with a thin coating of hair. Two forward facing eyes, a small mouth filled with flat teeth, and fingers that ended in tightly manicured nails.
It was pathetic. This was the warrior who would spell their doom? This was the being that hunted massive beasts to extinction? This?
<<Quite.>> The Aromite said with a tone of smugness.. <<These were the perfect mixture of genes to survive an environment rich with creatures like yourself. Beyond their physical resilience, capable of losing limbs, organs, and pieces of their brain with minimal hindrance, they are incredibly resourceful.>>
Images popped up of the fleshy creatures adorning themselves in the pelts of the massive creatures as a way to stave off cold, of them fashioning rudimentary tools from sticks and stone, and purifying saltwater into both a seasoning and a drinkable liquid.
<<Ruthless.>>
Dead cattle being thrown over city walls to cause plague, fields being salted to prevent anything from growing again, Men and women being led to slaughter. A city being decimated by a cloud of radioactive smoke.
<<Cunning.>>
A man lying in shadows, waiting to stab a gentleman in the back. A chef slipping poison into a nobleman food. A man successfully convincing a crowd not to stone an innocent man, the phrase "He who is without sin" inscribed on the bottom.
<<And above all...Persistent.>>
A man, both arms broken, bashing another man's skull in with his own. A woman lifting three tons of metal and rubber off the dirt to rescue a child. A tribe of men and women following the tracks of a beast that had long since vanished. One man, alone, sword drawn, against an army.
<<We have seven billion of these creatures on one planet alone. For each one that dies, two more are being born. They will not surrender. They will not concede. They will fight until the last.>>
Thrixal felt his body tense as he watched a man wrestle a massive reptile into submission, slit its throat, and walk away as though it were nothing toward an applauding audience. Thrixal had not realized that his fingers had ripped large gashes into the table.
<<Are you willing to risk war, knowing what you do about humans?>> | I look down at my hands, twirling them, observing them in a new light. Everything is...brighter. Clearer. More lovely.
More intense.
Two hours ago, I came out of surgery. I sit in the same chair I passed out in, allowing them to continue to run their barrage of tests on my body. First they tested the muscular change. Then they recorded my reaction times, the synapses that were strengthened in my brain.
A certain charge runs through my veins. An electricity that makes me feel I could run a mile in under two minutes.
In reality, it's under a minute and a half. They tested that too.
"Final enhancements are bonding," a voice says through the white light.
"Victor," another voice says, this one closer to my right ear. My hearing is *flawless* now. I hear every syllable. The inflection that distinguishes the voice as alien, based on its accent. They long ago learned our language, but still, they aren't perfect. We never blamed them for that, for it would've been trivial in the grand scheme of things to hold onto a grudge like that. "How are you feeling?"
I lick my lips. "Like I'm a new man," I say. I crack my neck, feeling the strength of muscles that are now more dense. Stronger. When I was twenty-two years old and in the Marines, I was one of the strongest soldiers in my company. I'm so much stronger now.
"In many ways, you are," the voice says. Callia, the head researcher of the Rishiean alien race that have been our allies for some time, comes to stand in front of me. She is probably one of the nicest people--sorry, *beings--* I've ever met. And yet she has pushed me. Tested me. Ever since I agreed to this six months ago.
Whatever this is, they've kept me in the dark about most of it. They offered me the enhancements, through the U.S. government, that is. It was my choice. I jumped at it.
When the Rishiean's came to earth seventeen years ago, people feared the worst. World militaries braced for war. Nuclear tension was high. To everyone's relief, the Rishiean's came in peace, just like the stories said. They came to share their knowledge with us. Their cultures and people. We've gotten along ever since.
They're not so different than us, really. Rishien's are, on average, a bit shorter than us, with spindly arms that each have seven fingers. Their skin is green, much like our plants on Earth, and yes, that is because they take in nutrients from light. They are a peaceful people, and they love to laugh, even if it sounds sorta like the "*mooooo"* from a cow. And, if i'm being honest, one of them, Callia, has basically been my best friend for the last six months.
Funny how that works.
"Are the optic enhancements comfortable?" she asks me as I tilt my head. With these new eyes, i can see the pores on her skin where I couldn't before. Weird.
"Yeah, I'm good," I say. "This is sick."
"No pain in the back of your skull? No tingling in your neck? These are common side effects."
"Nope. None of that. Can I stand?"
"Yes, but do so slowly."
I comply, carefully standing up in my loose fatigues. Callia holds up a hand in front of my face, quickly flashing fingers, raising and dropping them with speed. The Rishien's have incredible dexterity.
"Follow my fingers," Callia instructs me.
I do as she asks, feeling my eyes catch each finger as it rises, and then catching the next as it falls. I even start to smile a little. This is incredible.
Callia stops. "Very good. It looks like the bonding is finished. Congratulations, Victor. You are the first human being to ever complete the bonding sequences. You are, for all intents and purposes, now a rung above the rest of your race. Physically and mentally."
I raise an eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest. "Speaking of those intents and purposes..."
Callia looks down at the ground. "You know I have not kept these reasons from you out of my own volition. I wish you to understand your purpose as much as you do."
I sniff. "Sentiment only gets us so far, Cal. You know that."
She nods, and a door opens behind her. I look, finding two Rishien's that are dressed very differently than the scientist in front of me that I've gotten to know. "Today you will understand," Callia says.
One of the Rishien's steps forward. "Victor Arnedson," it says. Sorry, he says. This one's a dude. Or whatever passes for a dude in the Rishien race. "Please come with us."
I look at Callia, who only offers a quiet hand on my shoulder. "Go. You must. For us all."
...
"The Pevlizoshi," I say. "The Pevlizoshi." I sigh and try once more. "The Pevlizoshi." Then I whistle. "Damn, Rega, that's a mouthful."
"It is difficult to say for humans, yes," Rega says. He's apparently Callia's boss. He oversees the program I'm in. The one I still don't know a whole lot about. "But what you need to understand about them is quite simple."
A video plays. In some far off galaxy, a race of alien, this Pevlizoshi that I'm having difficulty pronouncing, lays siege to a planet. Well, actually, *lays siege* would be generous.
They *obliterate* a planet, storming it with ease and slaughtering another race that occupies it. Form orbit, their star ships bombard continents. They rain fire over an *entire* planet. The video switches and their warriors sweep across alien cities like a damn plague.
"We were too late," Rega says, watching the video. "The Omon's had been our allies for thousands of years. None survived. We failed them."
"Why are you showing me this?" I ask, shaking my head. "Is this why you...enhanced me?"
"Yes," Rega says. He's my height when he stands, tall for a Rishien. "We received word that they are on their way. And we need to be ready to stand against them." He flashes his green eyes at me. "Humanity needs to be ready to stand with us. Or we will all be lost."
"Why are they coming? Here, to Earth. What drew them?"
"You did. Your race. You know that my race has been observing you for some time now, yes?"
"Yeah. I heard that."
"Well, centuries ago, we had our answer about you. Humanity is a predator race, something not often seen in the universe. You are able to live in extremely harsh conditions, impossibly intelligent for how young your race is, and most of all, your bodies are war machines."
Rega sits down again. "As such, we gave our findings of you with the highest security clearance. We tried to bury those findings, and then befriended you to keep you docile. We classified you as a Category-AP race. In our known universe, such things are considered myth to many. We meant to keep it that way."
"Category-AP?" I ask. "What's that mean?"
"Apex predator."
I sit with this information. I allow my new brain functions to work it out. "You kept us a secret," I say.
"We did. To protect this universe, and to protect your race from itself. But now, somehow, the Pevlizoshi have uncovered this secret. They will come to destroy my people and to enslave your own. To use you as their weapon of mass destruction to conquer the universe. Unless we can stop them."
I sit for another moment. Then I look back up at Rega. "So, you enhanced me to help you in this...war."
A war of survival. For my entire people. For humanity. How did it come to this?
I stand, straightening my back. "What is my mission?" I say like I'm addressing a commander.
Rega stands too. "You are the first of our human test subjects to complete the bonding testing. You will not be the last. But, as I see it, your mission is quite simple."
We lock eyes.
"Lead." He nods. "To war."
"To war."
&#x200B;
EDIT: If anyone is interested in a PART TWO,[I wrote it here](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/nmam3x/rishien_species_database_humanity_classification/) | 2021-05-25T13:25:07 | 2021-05-25T11:02:44 | 1,068 | 426 |
[WP] A demon just devoured your soul. You are both very confused as to why you are still alive. | "You should be dead."
"Think so? I feel okay." Ted looked up into the glowering face, a face from comic books and dungeon manuals.
"This is new to me." The demon loomed, its size and general air of menace diminished by its quizzical expression. "Usually my snacks gasp, some might scream a bit, crumple up and die. I don't usually have...this...whatever this is." It waved wispy claws in confusion.
"This epilogue?"
"Mmm. That will do." Though huge and threatening, it was nevertheless noncorporeal. It poked a finger through his chest, apparently probing. "All the usual bits are there." It probed some more.
"Hey, knock it off. Buy me drinks first."
"Sorry." It withdrew the diaphanous talons. "Why aren't you dead?"
"I dunno. Why aren't you real?"
It reared up, indignant. "I am as real as they come! I am the heart of darkness, the fount of madness!"
"Eh." Ted got up. The demon had sneaked up on him as he sat, waiting for the clock's second hand to make its regularly scheduled rounds, and attempted to attack. Or it had attacked. Neither of them was really sure whether it had worked, now. "So what?"
"I have eaten your soul, mortal!"
"So?"
"Die, damn you! Die!" It was actually starting to sound a little frustrated.
"Piss off."
"DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!" Definitely a petulant note entering its voice. "I ate your soul! You're dead!"
"You're not real. If I have a soul, this job wore it out of me years ago. Die, yourself. Die of hunger. Or better yet, fill out an application and take the next three years' worth of rush hour shifts. Die of hatred, of indifference, of endless tedium interspersed with pointless middle managers. Die of humanity."
"Die?"
"You first. You're not real. This is reality, and it sucks. If I have a soul, it's too tough for you to handle. If I had a soul, this shit job got it before you did. If I never had a soul, no one ever did, and you're not real. You're just some hallucination, misfiring neurons, a neutrino glancing off a glial cell."
Quieter, almost apologetically, the demon whispered, "...die?"
Ted looked at the clock.
"Break's over. See you tomorrow. Better luck next time."
Ted pulled his Walmart vest back on, and shuffled back toward his register. | "Mm, why, that was far from the most underwhelming burden of sin that I've been made privy to"
I could feel its evil presence, grasping and caressing the very essence of my existence
It would have disgusted me, if I still had a heart to care
The demon made a show of smacking his lips, seemingly delighted with the qualities it saw in my soul.
But that didn't matter
I didn't move
I didn't mind
I didn't care
"Just get this over with"
I heard my own voice ring out, shrill and shaky
With all the strikingness of a dying hamster
The demon paid no heed to my words
It seemed to know all too well that I am but a husk
Lifeless, powerless and harmless
"It is rare that I see a human that look the part of my end product even before I partook in the process of their draining"
"I look like shit, I know, big whoop"
"Just . Get . This . Over . With"
I forced out the words with what little air I had left in my lungs
There wasn't any further need to replenish them
Mother's words surfaced in my mind again
I tore her body apart in my mental hellscape as I did in real life
That is to say
Brutishly brutal and blasphemously bloody
No more
I would not be a waste of fresh air for much longer
So shut the fuck up and go back to resting in pieces
Ciao.
The demon's eyes twinkled with a malevolent sparkle
He chuckled
"Humans always remark as to their food maturing in the weeks or days that pass, post purchase and pre consumption, why, demons have the blessing to see our takings mature in front of our very eyes, it is truly one of the great gratifications of demonhood.
With those words, he began to reveal his true form
A perfrct storm of Machiavellian malice, twisted tenaciously into tendrils of torturous terror
To be inflicted upon its prey
"Pray, it is but futile, but there is nothing that shall save you from this fate, so all actions, however moronically useless, will produce the same outcome"
I simply stared back blankly
As his tendrils tore into me
Not physically, but metaphysically
It tore into me
My self
My will
My existence
It tried hollowing me out
Slurping on my soul
It felt kind of...pleasant
That's....not meant to happen
Is it?...
There was the slightest fleeting hint of confusion in the demon's eyes
As a pure black orb was draw out of my body
By writhing spectral tentacles
I stared at it
It felt familiar
My old identity
It had a name
A personality
A family
A ....
I cannot remember
Blank
I know words
But nothing else
I looked down
I know these are hands
My hands
But where did the cuts and bruises come from
I move my hands around
How did this spider shaped mark get here
I know it's not normal
What is normal
What
"What"
The demon looked on in a flabbergasted manner
I knew he was a demon
I knew this wasn't his normal behaviour
I stepped back a little
My body felt....light
Like a literal stone was removed from my shoulders
I looked up
Towards that blackened orb
It was calling on me
Something about regret
Something about mistakes
Something about fear
Something about being eaten
...
I ignored it
It made me feel bad things
Like I was trapped underneath someone else's crazed ravings
Yet I knew it to be myself
Me
I
Past tense I
Ware
I stepped away slowly
I felt cold
I felt light
I felt weak
I felt....alive
I felt a sense of irony within those words
I felt like that was probably true
I felt like leaving
I felt like that demon.exe has stopped responding
...
I backed away into the night
I don't fear the darkness
I looked into he distance
Towards the sight of a site
Familiar and familiar
It was then
I knew anew
Why
Why would I fear the night
When twas the light from whence monsters came | 2021-10-06T10:53:35 | 2021-10-06T08:41:55 | 95 | 68 |
[WP] It is said that the cursed princess can only be awoken by true love's kiss. To wake her up, the king has had princes from all over the world come to kiss her to no avail. One day, a peasant boy walks up to the sleeping princess and splashes her with cold water to wake her up. It actually works. | Princes, princesses, kings, queens, and even self-proclaimed deities came to kiss Princess Celia. None woke her up from her cursed slumber.
For those many years, the princess had been kept under the watchful eyes of a litany of guards. Predictably, the eyes got less and less watchful as time wore on. For few would dare risk the wrath of the King, who promised great rewards for those who woke her—and considerable punishment for those who dared disturb her.
But it was so that one small boy, humble in origins and born after Princess Celia was put to sleep, was at the age when he heard much about the situation but cared little of its consequences. The boy—Fern—who’s had issues with oversleeping for much of his short life, knew the best way to wake up somebody up.
And thus, Fern armed himself with a small bucket of water, and slipped nearer to the palace. Few paid attention to the scuttling boy. None cared as he walked around with the ill-earned confidence of a bright-eyed child.
He approached what was once a large temporary tent that held the princess. Now, pieces of it has been slowly converted to a more permanent state. Actual pillars now held up the tapestries, instead of tent poles. The fabric has been changed from barebones white to resemble more of the princess’ room, for familiarity when she woke up. Two guards, who used to be alert, slumped against the front, allowing Fern to simply nip past them.
Princess Celia laid there, unmoving. The boy unceremoniously dumped the small bucket of cold water over her face. In an instant, the princess gasped and shot up, bones unused for years creaking dramatically.
News travelled fast. The guards conveniently left out that they were asleep during the commotion and the King’s elation, and were thus conveniently left with their heads attached to their bodies. Within moments, a party descended upon the tent, and it was the King who walked through with trembling fingers.
“Father!”
It was the sweetest word the King had heard in oh so long. He quickly took her daughter into an embrace, before eying the small peasant boy, who fiddled with the handle of the bucket.
“You… kissed my daughter?”
Princess Celia whipped her heard towards the boy.
“You kissed me?”
“A lot of people kissed you, my love,” the King wept. “And none could awake you, for they were not your true love.”
“Excuse me,” the princess smiled, and reached towards the bucket. “I need to throw up.”
One sight unfit for anybody present later, the princess spat the last bits out, and pointed towards the boy. Though no words were spoken, the implications were clear.
“Oh, no, my king, my princess,” the boy said. “I just splashed cold water on the princess.”
“You dare—”
The King felt a jolt in his heart. He wanted very much to sever the boy’s head, but immediately thought it was poor optics to kill a child. Not to mention, the child who saved his daughter.
“Fine,” the King coughed, clearing his throat. “OK. You splashed cold water on my daughter.”
“Wait,” Princess Celia slammed her fist against her former bed in a decidedly unprincessly fashion. “You didn’t do that? Before you let people kiss me?”
“My dear, it was magic,” the King said. “I simply listened to my arcane advisors.”
“It works when I’m sleepy,” Fern shrugged. “So I tried it.”
Princess Celia stared at the bed, looking at the wet ring that was on the pillow. She touched it gently, and hesitantly whispered:
“My true love is… water?”
“It could be,” Fern said. “I like water too. You drink it, and it feels good. You get caught in the rain, and it feels good. Once every year or so, you even get to bathe in it, and it feels really good!”
“My,” Princess Celia muttered. “I do love water more than most of the”—she glared at the King—”people who’ve kissed me, I suppose.”
“But… but…” the King stammered. “I… the advisors…”
Princess Celia turned towards the boy, and smiled sweetly.
“Well, boy, thank you very much,” she said, and planted a big, sloppy kiss on Fern’s forehead.
The boy scrunched up his face, and tested touching his head with a finger.
“You know what,” Fern said. “Anybody got any water?”
---
r/dexdrafts | The Royal Court stood silent, judging the lowly peasant bowing before the King. The boy, escorted on each side by the Royal Guard, looked up from his bow as the King beckoned.
"I am told, boy, that you have come to wake the Princess? That you wish to kiss her, and that you believe that you are the one to wake her?"
The boy's stature stayed low, but his voice was strong in conviction. "Yes, m'lord."
The King leaned forward, a scowl upon his face. "Do you forget your rank here, *peasant*?"
"Of course not, m'lord." For being surrounded by royalty, his voice did not waver, nor did his bravery. "That is why I am here to request m'lord's permission; as I am but a lowly, dirty peasant, and she is a Princess of the Royal Court. But I am aware of the Princess's condition, and of how many Princes have failed you, m'lord."
The King sat back, but still wore his scowl. "And you think that *you* would be the true love of the *Princess*? Lowly property of the Crown?"
"Perhaps, m'lord. Perhaps not me, exactly, m'lord, but I am the first to come to you with the suggestion that the 'true love' may not be a Royal, m'lord."
There came a great gasping from the Court, as the King went red in the face. "You would *dare* suggest such a thing? Do you wish to hang, *boy*?"
The boy shook his head. "No, m'lord, I do not wish to hang; but I believe that you, m'lord, misunderstand how magic and curses work. We, the lowly common folk, have heard of tales and iteracted of witches and of druids and of wizards, m'lord. I am uncertain if you, m'lord, not any of the Court--m'lords, m'ladies--have such tales nor experiences."
The King sank lower in his chair, still red and angry, but managed a single strained word: "Explain."
"Well, m'lord, curses are a magic used to *punish*. I don't know who or what magic user would curse you, m'lord, nor your daughter; but wouldn't such a person find that having a *commoner* kiss the Princess a fitting punishment?"
The Courts fell into a disarray of chaos and shouting, while the King leaned back in thought. Finally, he looked to the peasant boy, raising a hand for the silence of the Courts.
"While I dislike your tone, *boy*, you have brought forth an interesting point. I will listen to your idea, and allow you to prove it's worth. Wake my daughter, and I shall reward you handsomely. Should you fail, however, you shall hang."
The boy nodded, without a second thought, and began to instead outline a rather smart plan, revealing this peasant boy to be smarter than expected. He asked for a bath and a change of clean clothes, so that he would not soil the Princess, nor her chambers, with his filth. Likewise, he requested that there be a bucket of water and two clean rags near the bedside, filled with the cleanest water, that had been brought to a boil and cooled, and removed of all impurities. This water, he said, would be used to clean his face and lips, and, with the second rag, the Princess, so that he would not soil her.
The plan made, and reluctantly agreed to, the time came for the peasant boy to kiss the Royal Princess. Set up, as requested, the boy made his way to the bucket, taking in a deep breath and releasing it, seemingly reading himself.
He then took the bucket, dousing the Princess in the cold water.
The guards went for their swords, but their hands were stayed by the yelp of the Princess. The Princess took some time to recover, before recognizing the peasant, who was giggling at this point.
"*Johnathan!*" She half-angrily pointed at him. "Of course it would be *you* to do something like this!"
"Of course, I had to wake you up *somehow*."
The Princess then registered that she was in her room. Moreover, that there were *guards* in her room, as the knelt to the Princess. "What happened?"
"Sleeping curse. I think your father made a druid angry. Or maybe a witch, I'm not sure."
"How long have I slept?"
"A few months, now. Became a real-life fairy tale, *m'lady*."
"Oh, hush you. What am I to tell father?"
"The truth, probably. Maybe he'll be open to it."
One of the guards, still knelt, looked to the boy. There was still a distortion of disgust on his face, but there was a conflicting recognition in his eyes. "Boy--" he paused, then tempered his tone. "*Son*, how did you know that would work?"
"Truthfully? I didn't. But what I did know is that the Princess does not *have* a true love, nor will she, as she will never have a romantic interest. Truly, a bitter curse indeed, then, to have 'true love's first kiss' awaken her then." He chuckled. "Then again, magic is usually not so cruel, and even when it is, is filled with loopholes."
The Princess sighed, then shooed the trio out of the room. "Guards, go tell my father that I am awake, now. And *you*, Jonathan, will wait outside for me to change, so you can catch me up on everything that has happened."
They did as they were told, with the guards making haste to the King, and Jonathan stepping outside the door with a smile on his face.
He was glad to have his friend back. | 2022-08-07T04:19:58 | 2022-08-07T03:41:07 | 1,340 | 379 |
[WP] It is said that the cursed princess can only be awoken by true love's kiss. To wake her up, the king has had princes from all over the world come to kiss her to no avail. One day, a peasant boy walks up to the sleeping princess and splashes her with cold water to wake her up. It actually works. | "Plain water." The peasant laughed as the princess stirred from her sleep. "Had no one in this kingdom thought of it?"
"Of course we had." A voice from behind the boy said making him flinch. It was the king's. "So tell me, how is it that your 'plain water' broke the sleep?"
"Perhaps the witch lied." The boy said lazily. "I mean, it wouldn't make sense that she'd leave the way to break the curse so easily accessible for the enemy."
The king paused in his tracks. That... Wasn't something he'd thought of. In his haste to have found a cure he had forgotten to check where they'd gotten it from.
"Still, I suppose there's the problem of why water didn't work till now." The boy continued not waiting for the king.
"What is it that you know?"
"You are a smart king. I think you suspect the same I do. The princess was meant to wake today, just waiting to be stirred from her slumber."
The king's eyes widened. "Who was supposed to arrive today?"
"The king of Dariha. I heard him in the stables."
That explained everything to the king. The person meant to arrive today were their enemies. In his worries he had become too desperate and almost lost his empire.
"Well then, stable boy. You have my gratitude. I cannot thank you enough for saving my daughter. Speak what do you wish for?"
"May I have my own horse?"
"You do not ask for the princess, not for land, yet not even for jewels?"
"I am a stable boy, your majesty. Horses are the biggest treasure to me."
"So be it. I also gift you education should you wish to take it up."
At this the boy's eyes lit up. "Thank you your majesty. Long live your majesty and your highness." | The beautiful prince stepped back with a solemn loneliness lingering on his lips. The maiden princess remained sleeping.
"Stand back, boy. What are you doing?!" One of the prince's guards attempted to stop a young paige from interfering. He was holding a bucket.
"My nan always got me to wake up like this!" Before anyone could stop him, the boy dumped the cold liquid contents onto the princess's face. She yelped.
Everyone stared in surprise. She was awake! "It's a miracle!"
She sat up shivering. One of the handmaidens immediately wrapped her in a warm towel before leaving to fetch a new set of clothes for the princess.
"Oh fairest prince, who art thou who wakes me from my slumber?" She blearily rubbed her eyes while still trembling from the cold.
The handsome prince hesitated for a moment before speaking, "I am Prince Henry of Plousios." He got on one knee, "Wouldst thou join me on thine life's journey? Thou hadst taken my heart with thine lovely visage."
"Weren't you who woke the lady, sir prince. 'Twas the bucket." The boy shook the cold water to show what he meant. The princess gave him a momentary sharp glare.
"Prince Henry, thou hadst saved me from an endless nightmare. It shall be my greatest pleasure to accompany you. I pray that mine father will be understanding." Her face was the very image of kind loveliness.
The prince's expression was a sunlit beam of happiness. The paige rolled his eyes. The handmaiden returned with a new set of clothes.
"If thou will allow me a moment of privacy..." she blushed, looking down at her wet clothes, and the prince nodded sheepishly, a bit of red creeping into his cheeks as well. He motioned for the enterouge to follow him out.
The princess called out to the young boy just as he turned to leave with the prince, "Wait! You. I need to send a message to my father."
When the last of the prince's escorts and curious onlookers exited the room, the princess was left with her handmaiden and the young boy.
"By God's nails, Eric! Why'd you have to ruin my fun." She shoved her face into the pillow and groaned.
The young boy smiled, "Weren't fair you get to sleep while I had to clean your chamberpot every day, milady."
The handmaiden sighed, "Princess, someone was going to find out sooner or later. Prince Henry seems like a nice man, his father's rich too!"
"I liked Prince George better, that dashing smile, that rustic way he gripped my shoulders..." The princess squealed into her pillow some more.
"So what am I saying to His Majesty? He's been waiting for an answer for weeks." The boy set the bucket down and wiped his hands on a towel the handmaiden had given him. "You've already told this Lord Prince you'll marry him."
"Bah, that was just... *lip service*," she gave a mischievous smile.
The paige rolled his eyes again and the handmaiden just sighed.
&nbsp;
___
:D
/r/unexpected_works | 2022-08-07T06:14:52 | 2022-08-07T05:47:16 | 470 | 310 |
[WP] Your oldest child, who had been your daughter has informed you that she has transitioned to male. Problem is, you promised your first born son to the devil and his younger brother has been in Hell for years. This could be complicated. | "So is this gonna be a problem?" She - er, *he* - asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You know. The whole 'first born son' thing."
"I don't follow."
He shook his head. "My little brother, Dad." He hesitated. "He would've been twelve tomorrow."
I look at him sternly. "Wendy- er, Sean," I paused. *That's gonna take some getting used to.* "Are you sure about this?"
"Of course I am! Don't be so closed minded-"
"I'm not, I'm not. It's just-" sighing, I gathered my thoughts. "Ever since you found out, you talk about saving him all the time."
"What does that have to-"
I look him in the eye. "Tell me this has nothing to do with him."
"I- ...what?"
"Look. I support you and your choices. If this is your truth, I respect that. I just want to make sure this isn't some half-baked, *trading places* idea."
He gaped at me. "How could you say that?"
"It's literally the first thing you brought up after telling me."
"Okay, fair." He fiddled with the spot his earring used to be - the absence of which had sparked this conversation. "But I'm not stupid. I don't want to become..." His eyes went dark as he considered what horrors his brother must be facing. When it passed, Sean looked sharp and determined, steadily meeting my gaze.
"This is me," he said. "It always has been."
Searching his eyes I saw naked truth, and I smiled. "Then I'm glad you found it."
He looked grateful, but I could still see the concern from before.
"And the whole 'first born' thing? Don't even worry about it."
"But I was born first..."
"Well, yeah, but you weren't born a son."
The simplicity of the statement seemed to deflate him. "Oh."
I gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Contracts have very specific language. You can't just *become* the firstborn son."
Sean seemed unconvinced. "How do you know?"
I laughed. "I've had a feeling about you for a while now. I didn't bring it up because I wanted you to find out for yourself - hey, I could've been wrong. But remember my lawyer?"
"Mr. Webster? You asked him?"
"Bingo. He said it's ironclad. It could only ever be-"
A sudden rush of noise filled the room, and someone new appeared in between us - someone *young.* This person had a light grey blouse, a simple pair of jeans, pixie-cut hair and a modest amount of makeup. I barely had time to take this in before they collapsed to the floor.
Even as I rushed to catch them, something in their face tickled my mind - a nagging familiarity.
"Michael?!" I cried, dumbfounded. "How did you-?"
"Hey, Dad." He looked at me weakly. "Frickin' hate portalling..."
Sean crouched with us. "No way! How are you-?"
"Turns out I'm not a firstborn son anymore."
Michael looked at me, relief, fear, and hope in his - or I should say, in *her* eyes.
"Call me Michelle." | Stephen...Stephen....I hear my name being called. And it sounds glorious! I'm no longer that weak little girl anymore. I am now the man that I always knew I was.
Stephen...Stephen....Please say it some more! The life is slowly coming back into my body. I am feeling stronger just having my name being called out. My true identy energizes my soul and melts away the agony that I've been living with for such a long time. I struggle to open my eyes because of the anethesia, but I'm almost there. Almost ready to see the world in its majesty and not the darkness that plagued the entirety of my life.
I crack open my eyes. My vision blurry at first, but then little by little focusing on the ceiling. The sound of the hospital equipment slowly raising its volume in my ears. I was coming to my new reality as Stephen. And then a woman with a red blazer comes to my line of sight.
"Hello Stephen! You're finally awake", she said in a cheery and excited manner.
"Who....who are you", I asked. I've never seen her in my life, but my God is she beautiful! Her golden hair with mud streaks gives me the impression that she would rock my world!
"I'm Terry! You'll be coming with me soon enough to the underworld, Tee-Hee!"
"That sounds wonderful", I replied to her. My first day as a dude and I'm already scoring a hot little number! Life can't get any better than this! Just then I hear the charge nurse come into the room. She sees Terry and addresses her.
"Excuse ma'am! I don't know how you got in here, but you can't see the patient yet. I'm going to have to ask you to leave", she said to the gorgeous looking blonde.
Her beautiful green eyes stop staring into mine and focus on the charge nurse. Hey eyes begin to glow red and her face begins to morph into some sort of an abomination. Her eyes, mouth and head stretch to inhuman proportions. Her beautiful smile began to reveal rows and rows of sharp fangs, each varying in different sizes. She roared like a beast and I can hear the charge nurse screaming as she exits the room, slamming the door shut after her. The creature begins to pour her attention to me.
"St-st-stay...away...from me", I tried to shriek, but the anethesia prevented me from moving and screaming.
"I thought you loved me", said the creature in a perverted and twisted tone. "We're going to have a lot of fun together."
I hear the door open again.
"STAY AWAY FROM HIM TERRY!" It was my father's voice. He came to save me. The monster took its gaze off of me and focused it at him.
"You know that rules, Bruce! I get your first born son in exchange for the riches I allowed you to possess", snarled the monster at my father. "I've simply come to update our agreement."
"He just came out of surgery! He can't even walk."
"This one cannot, but this one can." A flame came out of now where and a young man fell from it and into the bed next to mine.
"ALEX", yelled my father.
That name sounded familiar, but I was too scared to remember why. "Time to go", howled the creature. Flames began to surround my body. I started to feel the heat wrap around me. I was screaming a the top of my lungs from the pain I was experiencing. Then the pain started to die down.
"AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
I hear the monster scream in agony. I also hear signs of a struggle where the young man landed The louder it got the more the flames dissapeared. I see my father tackle the beast and push it away from my bed side. A huge orange light flashed for an instant from the directoin he ran towards. I hear some huffing and puffing come from that side. I'm praying to God it wasn't that thing.
Instead of the nightmare that appeared earlier it was the boy who made the appearance to my bedside. "You okay bro", he asked. "Its me Alex. Your long lost little brother."
I couldn't believe it. Dad said he died in a car accident. "Is it really you?"
"Its me. Listen...I know you think this is all one weird head trip, but you have to know that Terry will be back."
"Where's dad", I asked, feeling my eyes getting heavy again.
"He's in the underworld fighting with Terry. I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, just rest dear brother. Sweet dreams. After today we will both be fighting for our lives come the next few days..." | 2022-08-31T20:44:25 | 2022-08-31T19:48:31 | 70 | 46 |
[WP] On this long-haul interstellar supertanker, cloning is used to replace dead, dying or aged crew. The strict "1-clone at a time per person" law was temporarily retracted with all hands on deck to prevent a catastrophic failure. Crisis averted and law restored, there will be a culling. | "Let me get this straight," said the Security Director. "We have to kill all but one clone of each person. Starting with this guy," he points at an image projected by the holo lens, "let's run through the positions each clone has so I know which people are important or not. Who is in engineering?"
Captain: "How did you know?"
The SD looked puzzled. "How did I know?"
Captain: "You've been in suspended animation. How did you know Who is in engineering?"
SD: "I didn't. That's why I asked."
Captain: "Ask away."
SD: "Who is in engineering?"
Captain: "Yes."
SD: "Yes, what?"
Captain: "What is a cook."
SD: "A cook makes food. I want to know who is in engineering."
Captain: "It seems like you already know. Are you playing some type of game to stall? You don't want to kill anyone?"
SD: "Let's try this a different way. We need to kill all the instances of this guy but one. Forget about each individual person and position. You're the captain. You know your crew. Who should we keep?"
Captain: "Probably. Engineering is an important position."
SD: "I didn't ask about a position. I asked who we should keep?"
Captain: "Certainly."
SD: "Who is the clone we should keep?"
Captain: "Certainly."
SD: "Seems like an odd name. We should keep Certainly?"
Captain: "Who."
SD: "Look, I'm asking the questions. In matters of security, my authority supersedes yours. Give me a straight answer. Who should we keep?"
Captain: "I keep telling you the answer. Who."
The Security Chief shot the Captain. | I was the last one to be cloned of five. I had memories of being on the tanker for more than five-hundred years, and my original was long gone. I had no memory of her, or my life before the tanker. But I had the same name, and I wore her uniform.
"All hands on deck!"
The words echoed through the ship. I knew what would happen now. We hadn't had a malfunction in weeks and we had long since left that terrible nebula which had caused all of our trouble. Simply put we were too many now for a ship operating at peak efficiency.
I had three choices:
1) follow orders, 2) hide on the tanker, and be hunted down or 3) get off this wretched ship travelling through the empty void.
I wondered what my original would have done. I wondered if she would have been proud of me. There was five of us. And we would all be thinking the same thing at this moment. Only one of us would survive if we choose option 1. Would any of us survive if we choose options 2 or 3. Not likely.
I pulled out a piece of paper from my jacket pocket. It was a handwritten note that my original had written. It simply said: "there is always light." Did my four sisters have similar notes, I wondered. Did they think of me as a sister or a copy?
Then I ran. I ran as fast as I could.
***
A tanker like mine has two hundred-and-sixty-one compartments. Of these, thirty-eight are sealed and inaccessible to the crew save for mechanics like myself. I knew that my four sisters each had stowed away in one of these, and I would be doing the same. Panting I reached compartment seventeen, a number I had chosen at random as I ran for my life.
The airlock opened and there stood one of my sisters. A deer caught in the headlight. She looked at my frightened and I looked at her. She was tall and slender and pale, with bright blue eyes. She had a box in her hand, which she put on the ground. She stood there for a moment, looking at me. I knew what she was thinking. She wanted to do this the easy way.
The key clanged on the floor as I dropped it. She made her way quickly to the airlock control, but I stopped her before she could open it. "Please," I said as I held up my hand. I knew it was useless to ask, but somehow I knew she would have done it too. "Don't do that. I don't want to die. There are many other ways to solve this." She continued to look at me, "You can't stop it you know." I turned to look behind me, the reality of the situation was setting in, and I was scared.
She looked at me, her eyes full of sadness and with that I realized that this was it.
"Please" I said again
She paused for a moment and then nodded slightly as if to say I understand. Then she pressed the button. Air rushed past me before as the power of the vacuum of space grew stronger.
***
For more stories check out r/greypuffin. | 2022-09-26T13:49:28 | 2022-09-26T13:41:35 | 107 | 67 |
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