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] Create a story that ends with a sentence that you never thought you would utter in your entire life
Expecting something funny/ridiculous, but feel free to go out of the box
EDIT: Thanks for all the responses, guys! This prompt came out of the blue and I was interested in how this community would respond to it :)
Edit2: Welp, this was more successful than I thought it would be. Mad props to /u/AtlasNoseItch for the /r/bestof, and thanks to everybody for making my first prompt a success :D | My father was the wisest man I knew, and his voice still echoes in my ears today. "Eric, never dwell on the details of how the people in your life got there, just be happy they're there with you." This seemed more relevant now than it ever had. I was laying in bed, covered by nothing but a sheet while my new wife cleaned up in the bathroom of our fancy hotel.
She was perfect. She had that sexy southern drawl that made you want to talk to her all night until you realize that morning came all too soon. Her eyes were the most beautiful, piercing blue, and her blonde hair almost glowed. She had meat on her bones, but she was in amazing shape. She could be Americas sweetheart if they didn't write her off when she was young. She got a bad rap, but she grew out of it and moved on with her life.
Her family loved me. They weren't perfect, but who has perfect in-laws? She was my gem from Georgia, and I loved her with all my heart. It's great being married to Honey Boo Boo. | Zevra examined the chrome maser pistol for a moment. She felt its unusual heft and squinted to see the small text next to a button labeled, "Safety." She pressed the safety down with her thumb and it made a satisfying click. A display quickly flashed on its side showing a 50% charge. Her wristphone began to vibrate. She furrowed her brow as she read the message. She put her wrist up to her ear and said, "Call him."
"Zev, we said no voice calls. Its too risky," said the man who answered.
"I know... but I'm scared. I've been holed up in this supply closet for an hour now. I just want to go home."
"Wait... wait... I'm getting some intel from HQ, they're on your floor."
"What the hell, Tommy," she said, "What's going on anyway. Is this a drill?"
"No, something bad happened. We lost control of the androids. There's a virus. It zombified them or something. They're ignoring control commands and lashing out."
She looked at the pistol again. "Be straight with me, has anyone been hurt or..."
"Killed? Yes, we lost a few security guards. Everyone else made it out, except for you. You just need to stay in that closet and be cool until the mecha SWAT team arrives."
She cocked her ear as heard pounding footsteps and the high pitched whine of high-watt servos. Its just one, she thought to herself. Just one.
"Zev? There's one near you. Be cool. Don't be a hero."
Zevra whispered into her wrist, "He's very close to me. I can hear him opening all the closets. He's seeking me out. He's getting close." He hands began to sweat and the pistol suddenly felt tiny and slippery in her hands.
"Wait, wait Zev, you need to..." She hung up on him. She took a deep breath, sprung to her feet, and kicked open the closet door and and shot the military android with a high intensity maser beam.
"DIE," she yelled as she watched its blind torso grasp around almost comically for its severed head. She pulled the trigger again, but this time held it down.
"DIE ZOMBIE ANDROID SCUM," she yelled as the pistol melted the android's head into hot metal slag at her feet. | 2014-03-11T22:05:20 | 2014-03-11T21:10:05 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] You have 30 seconds with an ancestor of yours from 200 years ago (1814), before they are transported back to their time. What do you say to them? What effect appears in our world because of it?
Consider for the sake of this prompt that they aren't totally freaked out by being plopped into 2014, that they can understand you, and that they'll continue their life as normal back in their time, only with the knowledge of whatever you told them with your 30 seconds time. | "30...29...28...
Listen to me carefully. there is not much time. Nobody will ever believe you or will burn you at the stake if you repeat this
22...21...20....
be kind, teach our family the importance of education above all else
16...15...14...13....
the next 200 years will be the most exciting yet deadly in all mankinds history. seek out and find those bright lights who can heal the world but who will need protecting
9...8...7....
in 1886 find nikola tesla. our family MUST protect him at all costs. he will be surrounded by sharks, support him and help him
3...2...
spread love more than hate
1 | I was looking at my great great grandfather James Cater and wishing he would have taught his kids not to hate when all of a sudden he appears in front of me. I hear a voice in my head telling me that if I think I can do a better job then I have 30 seconds to make him changes his mind.
James is currently 12 years old and I say to him, one day you are going to have kids and it is important you teach them that everyone and I meam everyone is equal and has a right to their life. If not the world will be a horrible place to be. James says okay he will try and then he is gone.
Let me explain a little something. Apparently my great grandfather was the reason the south won the civil war and ultimately caused America to start being indignant towards the rest of the world in the mid nineteen hundreds Americas president decided to start killing all people that werent "American enough". Well the world retaliated and America is now a wasteland. The bombs from every countries arsenal landed in every city with over 5000 people and the damage done to infrastucture is beyond repair. There wasnt a government left to surrender.
The voice says in my head, lets see how you did. You will keep your memories of this but the rest of the world would never believe you.
All of a sudden my new life floods in. It turns out James made so much of a point about people being equal that his sons went and fought for the north even though they were residents of north carolina.
America fought a tough war but eventually thw north won and the slave were freed. It seems that residual hate of blacks still exists though 149 years after the end of the civil war.
A man named Hitler tried to make the world hate people that were different and the world joined forces to wnsure this would never happen again.
I dont understand why people feel the way they do. Why would anyone want to try and prevent someone from just having a fair shake in life?
I am not sure if the world is better or not but I am now at least proud of my family. | 2014-05-09T06:49:32 | 2014-05-09T05:25:48 | 48 | 15 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | It started with something everyone did. It started while he stumbled against a table corner in the living room at age 3. He honed this skill without realizing. In kindergarden he used it on the carers. At home he used it on his parents and siblings. Hours and hours he used it, while he was around people at a concert, while swimming in the sea, while driving his car, while bleeding from his arm after a minor accident or just while standing outside in the warmth or cold. He knew he got better over time, kidding around with it, but also be thankful for this skill. Thankful while his cousin or grandfather died, while his exgirlfriend broke up with him, while he was learning for an important test. No one else used this skill as much as he did. Not one thought that this skill was usefull, it could be achieved through methods that did not substract from you maximum skill-level, so they used headphones, soundproofing, and even blinkers could be seen.
Then the day came, a day he had longed for since his first level in this skill. He mastered it. At his 100th birthday he gained the 100th level. A smile showed on his face for a short time. Out of curiosity he opened the skill description and read:
“Ignorance (Lvl 100 / Mastered): Ability to ignore outside and inside influences. Mastery Bonus: A Master of this skill can ignore everything, all matter, energy, time and even death.”
| I skip stones. It's my passtime. Whenever I feel down, I head to the lake and find the flat, smooth rocks that hop on the water's surface. I do it for fun. I do it to show off. It's just my kind of thing.
Then one day, I was sitting at my desk, trying to train my graphing skill. "Shit!" I shout. I haven't leveled up for a week now. I toss all of my books into the drawer and go for a run to the pond. Along the way, I try to vault over a chest-high wall. I catch my foot, remembering how I was useless at parkour too. I eat dirt thank goodness, and continue to limp to the pond. I limp to the water's edge, and stare in.
I looked to the bottom and felt a stone. Smooth, oval, and small. I cradle it in my palm to the surface. I look at it. The gray and grayer tones matched my exact mood. I then reel back, and begin to pitch the rock over the water.
Then I feel a feeling I had never quite felt before, but I knew it was amazing. I release my grip, and watch my projectile bounce off the still waters, making ripples in it's wake.
It bounced for what seemed like forever. But it was just 30 seconds. I run to the other side, my ankle in pain from the trip I had a few minutes ago. I see the stone, on the muddy side of the lake. I go over and pick it up. I throw it again, and it reaches the other side in a blur. I finally had mastered a skill. But what for? I was happy, yet disappointed.
I then see a stone coming to me. It was large. As soon as it skidded in the bank, I picked it up. It had a number scratched into it. "241543903" I turn it over, it says, "Call me." On the other side of the water stood a girl. She looked about my age. I had seen her skipping stones as well, but I guess I hadn't really paid much attention to her. But I called her anyways.
--------------------------------
"And that's how I met your grandmother," I announce to my grandchildren. I kiss my wife on the cheek, and hold her hand. She squeezes mine with the last of her strength. "I.. I.. please be okay!" My voice breaks, tears welling up.
She whispers softly to me, "I love you, hone....." I fall to my knees and begin to weep. I wail over the noise and chaos of the nurses running in, the HR machine emitting the monotone noise that signaled my love's death. Tears flow free from my eyes. I never was any good at math, but the 68 years we spent together were at the very least, our greatest. | 2015-10-05T23:42:20 | 2015-10-05T23:37:22 | 85 | 23 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | Everything changed that Friday morning as I came.
I always jerk off Friday mornings. I jerk off every morning. In fact, I jerk off twice every morning, on lunch break, and at least 4 times before I fall asleep at the end of the night. I jerk off so much it isn't even fun anymore. I spend so much money on hand lotion and tissues that I could practically write it off as a medical expense. I havent gone on a date in over 15 years because I can't waste the precious time fucking that I could spend leveling up my jerk.
It's been a hard road, and one I've had to keep secret from everyone I care about - of all the skill trees mine is the least revered. But that Friday morning, my journey came to an end. As the orgasm subsided, my junk began to glow with a golden aura and the triumphant horns of the level-up music rang out for me. I was no longer a mere jerkoff, I was finally... the Master Bater. | Stephanie was walking down the street looking for some new clothes to spoil herself with, when a particularly cute leather jacket caught her eye. Using her magnifying glass she saw that it was better than her old jacket by +7 warmth and +37 sex appeal.
"Ahh you have good taste" said the shopkeeper. "This jacket was made by the tiny hands of a small Asian child, significantly under paid, but with expert precision."
Stephanie couldn't wait to try it on. She rushed home. Showing off her best modelling pose to her mirror, she clicked her fingers.
LEVEL UP
She opened up the mobile app 'Stat-trak" to see her achievements and skills.
Hundreds of new skills and passive abilities appeared on her screen.
She couldn't believe her eyes.
Teleportation, pyrokinesis, telekinesis, time travel, time control, the list went on.
Looking at her most recent achievement she saw 'Clicking Goddess'. The flavor text read 'Able to bend space time on a whim'
What to do with this new found power. Clicking her fingers she changed her clothes into an elegant dress of grays and black pearls. Turning again to get mirror she looked herself up and down. "I like it" she smiled.
Opening her Stat-trak again she paid attention to her general stats. "WHAT THE EVER LOVING GOODNESS IS THIS" she shouted!
'Intelligence +999, Strength +999, Dexterity +999, Stamina +999, Balance +999' The list went on for 7 pages. Stephanie could not quite grasp how powerful she had just become.
Steph sat on her bed and thought for hours about what to do with these new found powers. "Should I tell anyone? Is what you are thinking" said a powerful voice. Quickly standing up and ready to fight Stephanie commanded "Who are you?"
"I am a friend" said the voice. A man walked into view. He was too charming, the kind of man you find modelling in magazines. Except he wasn't photo-shopped, he was real, standing now right in front of her.
Messing up her chain of thought, he spoke again "My name is Thor. Valhalla is under siege and you have been chosen as the champion to end this"
She squeaked "Thor! What have I ever done to deserve this power?"
Thor hastened his voice and extended his hand palm up "We have not time to discuss the details, are you with us?" | 2015-10-06T00:39:35 | 2015-10-05T23:32:30 | 65 | 38 |
[WP] You use a mirror to summon your evil twin. What comes out... is your good twin.
This ought to be fun. | "So you're saying that you do all your work on time?" I ask again, still half in shock. "And that you've never taken a sick day for no good reason?"
The other me nods his head. He's wearing a three piece suit, tailored, sitting with his legs crossed as though he doesn't have a care in the world. "Speaking of work, I'd appreciate it if you can end the summoning now. I've quite a difficult case due for next week."
I absently toy with the safety on my gun, scraping at the switch, careful not to push it from its current position. It's a horrible habit. Come to think of it, it's one of my many horrible habits. I procrastinate. I slack off. I lie. Sometimes I even summon myself from an alternate universe after an experiment goes horribly wrong, with the intent to murder my own corrupted copy and restore stability.
The portal is a jagged blur in my peripheral vision, pulsing faintly. It started out as a small speck. By now, it's nearly twice my size, and it's still steadily growing. It's calling. For what - or rather, for who - we still aren't sure.
Our researchers had theorized that I, as the test subject, was the source of corruption. By summoning the me of the alternate reality and exterminating myself, they believed that the dimensional rift could be sealed once more, reversing the accidental havoc we'd wreaked with our attempt at cross-dimensional travel. Operation 'Remove - Facsimile, Corrupted', often referred to as simply Re-FleCted.
"Are we done?" the other me asks, inspecting his finger nails. He's supposed to be my evil twin, for all intents and purposes, and yet, next to him…
Next to him, I feel as though I'm the evil one.
I let out a soft, defeated sigh. Fuck. I really hope this doesn't mean what I think it does. "I think that about settles it," I tell him. "Just give me a moment, and I'll send you back."
"Good," other me says simply.
Just as the machine begins to whirr, the lights flickering ever so slightly, I dart a quick glance at the mirror. It's still startling, seeing no reflection where my mind tells me there should be one. But even more startling still is the expression sliding over my double's face, contorting into a crazed, malevolent grin.
"You nearly got me, you lying bastard," I mutter, before whipping around, firing two shots through his abdomen and kicking him square in the chest. My doppelganger's chair flies backwards - right into the maw of the gaping portal. The last thing I see before the rift slams shut is my own face looking back at me, twin pools of darkness where my eyes should be, the remnants of that maniacal smile still stretching my mouth. | Gathering all the materials was not an easy process. The potion took months of preparation, the ingredients spanning from cinnamon to goat's blood. Finally the day came when the liquid inside my bowl turned from a rusty brown to an emerald green.
Then I knew it was ready.
I stood in front of the mirror and said my name three times. The emerald liquid began to bubble, great plumes rising from its surface. My hands shook as I reached out to touch the mirror. My ears began to ring.
She touched me back and just like that it was over.
To test it, I tilted my head. My mirror image did the same. I pulled my fingers back, and so did she. I grimaced and smiled and watched as she did the same.
"It didn't work," my head dropped. "Now who's going to protect me."
"It worked," came the voice. "I was just messing with you."
She pushed through the mirror then, first her hands and then her torso. Finally she tumbled into the sink, crying out as she fell onto the bowl of emerald liquid.
"Are you--"
"Your shadow self," she finished. "Yup. But seriously, gross."
She took a shower and I sat on my bed. After she had dressed she joined me.
"So what gives," she brought her legs up and crossed them at the ankles, leaning forward as she looked at me. "You locked me in there sixteen years ago and now you want me out?"
"I-what?"
She sighed. "You don't remember?"
"No."
"Every person, before they're born, has two halves. Some call it souls, some call it personalities, whatever. At birth, they go through a process to see which one is stronger and tougher and more perseverant to the current world. The one more willing to do anything. They're born, and the other retreats into the shadow world until the next life and the next chance."
"Stronger and tougher--"
My twin looked at me. "Willing to do *anything* to get the job done."
After a long pause, I came clean. "I needed help. I need help."
"I know," her voice was not unkind. "But getting revenge on the mean girls is *your* style, not mine."
"But--"
"Killing a goat to summon my shadow self? Not my speed. Bullying Martha McEvans in kindergarten for sucking her thumb because I didn't want people to know I sucked mine? Sending those anonymous tumblr messages to people I didn't like?"
"They bullied *me*, though."
"Sure, but you sank down to their level. I would have let it go and put it behind me. *That's* kindness. Forgiveness. Kindness to *yourself*, Alice. You're sixteen and your parents are getting a divorce and you kind of don't fit socially and you spend your time doing weird things like seeing if the legend about so called *evil twins* is true."
I opened my mouth but she cut me off.
"I'm you, Alice. I'm your other half. I've seen every moment of your life. Your shoplifting lately, trying cigarettes, sneaking out after dark. The hate you feel toward your parents. I know it all. I know it sucks that Megan and Taylor and Wendy are making fun of you and being mean to you. But revenge isn't the solution. Someone hurting you doesn't mean you get to hurt them right back."
A long silence fell between us and I hugged my knees into my chest, pressing my face into them. "I don't feel like I can persevere," my voice was muffled and I sniffed before continuing. "I don't feel strong or tough or anything but dumb and stupid and worthless."
My twin reached out to take my hand. "The world we were born into is evil. Sometimes to succeed you'll need those things. And as much as you struggle with them those traits do not define you. Shoplifting, calling girls names. They are times that I would have reacted differently, had I been born. *Good* and *evil* are blurred lines. You called for me because you were desperate. I can't help you with getting revenge on those girls and making them pay or making them sorry. But I can do one thing that I think you really, really need."
"What?"
"I can be your friend."
---
/r/Celsius232 | 2022-09-02T19:38:49 | 2016-04-15T16:58:41 | 65 | 10 |
[WP] You have discovered that "God" is actually a computer simulation that is running the entire universe and you have gained access to the console. Upon looking at the screen you see that a service pack to update the program was downloaded 10,000 years ago but never installed. | I glanced over the black screen, mounted on the wall above the azure white desk. Written on it in bright characters were the words:
Universe 22b [Version 1.96]
(c) UniversalTech. All rights reserved.
U:\Users\God22b> Version 2.0 is ready to install. Proceed with installing? (YES/NO/MOREINFO)
I stood there for a while. Version 2.0? What the hell was that? I glanced at the keyboard sitting patiently next to the mug of cold Earl Grey and slowly sat down on the chair. Carefully and deliberately, I wrote down "MOREINFO" and hit Enter.
A wall of text appeared:
VERSION 2.0 UPDATE INFORMATION
=======================
-Fixed Sloth bug where wings would occasionally not spawn
-Humans patched -- Fixed bug where they would not spawn with the knowledge of Life, the Universe and Everything, added extra teeth, eyes don't downgrade overtime, lifespan increased by 100 years, General Intelligence increased by 67 points.
-Dolphins patched -- Dolphins can now communicate telepathically with every species on Earth and can now walk on land.
-New species: Wingodile, Chirds, Falena Sharks
Wingodile: Crocodiles with wings (type WINGODILEHELP for more information or RENAME SPECIES1345325 [INSERTNAMEHERE])
Chird: Keeping the original chickens, but new advanced species can finally fly up to 1km height, as intended. (type CHIRDHELP for more information or RENAME SPECIES1345326 [INSERTNAMEHERE])
Falena Shark: A hybrid of a shark and a whale. Has legs, probably will succeed in World Domination. Highly intelligent, immortal. (type FALENASHARKHELP for more information or RENAME SPECIES1345327 [INSERTNAMEHERE])
-Fixed an issue where nothing could go faster than 299,792,458m/s
-Earth now renamed to Gaia, after disputes with Greeks
-Penguins can now fly for a limited time
-Added new species branched off humans: Homosuperiors. Twice the size of regular humans, super strength, can fly, infinite lifespan, cannot be harmed in any way, can sense electromagnetic waves
-Removed bug where platypuses would sense electromagnetic waves, added nipples.
-Other minor bug fixes. (type BUGFIXESLIST for a more detailed list of what was patched)
TYPE "INSTALLUPDATE" to proceed or "CANCELUPDATE" to cancel. For more commands, type "HELP"
I typed HELP. Another wall of text came up, but I caught what I was looking for. The command I came here for:
"DELETEUNIVERSE"-Will permanently delete this universe, automatically starting another one. All progress will be lost.
With shaking hands, I started typing. DELETEUNIVERSE
"Ready to delete Universe 22b. Press any key to continue."
I pressed the End button. | "Do you wish to proceed?"
The brightness of the monitor was giving me a headache. This whole thing is giving me a headache.
Somehow I brought myself to this place but I don't remember how I got here or where this even is.
I remember walking. Endlesslly. I might have slept a little, but I'm not sure how many days it's been. Or if days even matter here.
Nothing really matters here. Just the computer.
"Do wish for more time?"
-Yes
I need to think this through. I feel like I'm in that weird Matrix room, behind reality where no one can see. What does 'proceed' even mean? There is no architect here to guide me. Just some numbers on a screen that I can't read. This is definitley an old update. I know that much. Would this put us back in time? Would this erase everything that's happened since? All my family, friends, everyone. Gone.
"Do you wish to proceed?"
Do I wish it? I don't know. I know I'm here for some purpose. I was told to come here. I was sent for. I know I'm suppose to make this decision. If this deletes everything about my life, would I be okay with that? I've always been a bit of a loner. Since I was a child I've been doing my own thing. I had very little friends growing up and I have very little friends even know. I'm one of those men you see at the bar drinking themselves and leaving alone. I've come to terms with it. I can't remember much else. I haven't been home in a while. Haven't even spoken to my dad since God knows when.
Since God...
Is this God? Is *this* the almighty? If this is the Lord, then we are being run by algorithms. Computer programs. Everything we know has been calculated before we got here, right? Everything we've been doing has been written in code. Are any choices mine? Was my life written before me? If so that means this life was fate then. Living by myself. Drifting around trying to scrape what little meaning I could find. I was almost relieved when I realised the dreams were directions. Relieved to find meaning. But now I know what the meaning is, I'm not so sure anymore.
Can I destroy everything humanity has done? Is that even what happens?
"Do you need more time?"
-Yes
I'm starting to get angry in my frustration now. Why me? What have I done that warrents this great responsibility? I never went to college. I never even finished school. For all I know these numbers could mean that everyone will have 3 eyes and 4 hands and that's it. We'd all be different, but nothing would change. No big Armageddon. Why me? And why then, come to think of it, was my life so messed up? Why was I written homeless, dirty, washed up and loved by no one? I hated people for a long time. But that hate was misdirected. I never hated God. Didn't even believe in him. I couldn't. It didn't make sense in my head. But this doesn't either and it's proof right in front of me. If this was meant to be, and I'm suppose to do this, then why can I simply not do it? Or maybe I wasn't suppose to do it. Whatever I choose has already been calculated and coded, typed in by some A.I that somehow created everything that I've ever known. Why should I go through with this things plan if I'm not even in control of myself? How can they even expect me to decide if I don't even know what I'm deciding!?
"Do you wish to proceed?"
I can't escape it. If I choose not to, then I was suppose to. And if I choose to proceed then I was suppose to. So therefore there is no right answer. So now I need to figure out if I can accept the responsibility of everything changing and not changing.
All I ever wanted was change. All my life I was seeking change. But nothing ever does.
Fuck it.
-Yes.
Edit: Formatting. Also sorry about the spelling mistakes if there is any. I am at work and tried to rush it through my break! | 2016-05-13T23:25:00 | 2016-05-13T20:29:57 | 462 | 45 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | I glanced at the button, red, shiny, like a new toy underneath the Christmas tree.
"Press it" the voice inside my head begged. My finger slid across the button, careful not to disrupt the connection enough to initiate it by mistake, I knew I had to make sure I was making this decision with an open, and clear, mind.
"Think of the benefits," the voice rang out again, adding "think of Allison."
I took a deep heavy sigh as I looked to the bed where she slept, curled in the blankets as I sat here again in front of the electronic glow. She had to work in the morning, "Come to bed soon" she said, four hours before.
"Think of Lydia," the voice continued as I looked to the crib to see my child dreaming peacefully.
My finger hovered over the button.
".... think of the bills, your marriage is failing and you can't even take care of your family."
"Shut up!" I called out, quickly looking around the room to make sure I didn't disturb my family. "Get out of my head."
"Do it"
"Do it"
"Do it"
My knuckles cracked as I stretched out my bony finger and placed it firmly against the button. I took in a deep breath before whispering "Goodbye" as I pressed the button down and awaited my fate.
My phone sounded. Alert: $5,000 has been deposited into your checking account.
"Fuck." | They both knew they were going to be millionaires.
In the great whirlwind of New York City business, it's rare for a meeting to occur that feels like instant destiny. But then along came Nate Carpenter and Hunter Bryson. One dinner party and one handshake later, they were partners.
*
"Cheers, my friend. To a first quarter beyond our wildest dreams."
Nate raised his champagne glass and clinked it against Hunter's. It had been three months since the launch of Listicles, the most successful office productivity app of the new year.
"You checked your savings account recently? 'Cause mine looks pretty damn good," Hunter said with a chuckle.
"Mine too, mine too." Nate took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair. "Say, I've been meaning to ask you something."
He reached in his pocket, set the glass down, and produced a bright turquoise button, entirely unmarked and mounted on a cheap plastic base.
Hunter jerked backwards, startled. "You actually use that thing? I haven't gone anywhere near mine."
"It's pretty cool, man. The big banks partnered up and gave a button to each of their customers as some kind of PR thing. Once activated, you get to be a part of this game, once a night. Starting at midnight, the sooner you press it, the more cash you get deposited into your account. The trick is you have to put in a little money in order to play, and the more you put in, the better the multiplier could be."
"So...it's gambling."
"Well, sort of. And there's one other catch, but I'm not worried. I'm not one to press my luck. You should give it a shot."
"What's the catch?"
"It's nothing, really. Just something in the fine print, something to keep track of the people who are getting too good."
Hunter sighed. "All right, fine. But just once. And I'm only dropping, like, thirty bucks."
*
Three months later, Hunter bet a million dollars on the nightly game session.
He called Nate one minute before midnight, his hand quivering.
"Nate. Dude. I bet it all."
"You're kidding." Nate shifted his cell phone to his right ear, using his free hand to place the button on his bedside table. "So did I."
Hunter laughed, trying to block his nervousness with excitement. "This is where we start to climb the ranks, my friend. This is how we become kings."
"Bigger than Google, bigger than Apple!" Nate chuckled.
"I'll see you on the other side. When our bank accounts are doubled."
Nate and Hunter reached for their buttons and pressed them at exactly the same time.
Within seconds, both men lay dead in their apartments.
Their accounts remained dormant as the banks' IT teams determined the night's losses. Then, the men's remaining funds were transferred directly to the banks, lost in the shuffle, as though neither of them existed.
| 2016-07-16T17:58:05 | 2016-07-16T17:29:20 | 145 | 38 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | The room was silent. No-one ever spoke at these things. The text message had been sent forty-three minutes ago. A location, a time. One by one we trickled in each of us with some grim purpose. At the door everyone showed three items to gain entrance: their button, their license, and the back of their left hand. Mrs. Chambers , a gray haired woman with penetrating eyes, recorded our names and stamped the back of our hands. Except for Tom. He'd tattooed his lucky number, 333, on the back of his hand and Mrs. Chambers always reserved it for him. No-one had been coming for as long as Tom and no-one was sure what he did with all the money.
Once your hand had been stamped Mrs. Chambers collected your cell phone. Unless you were Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones always called his family right after the first button had been pressed and his hand collected five stamps for the privilege. Only the first two thousand or so to press their button got any kind of reasonable sum so that phone call was quite the privilege. Mr. Jones needed the money, his daughter needed treatment for the cancer and he needed heroine for the stress. No-one judged Mr. Jones it's not like anyone else had better reasons for their presence or their addictions.
Once you were done with Mrs. Chambers you would walk through a door or a hallway to the main room. It's a different room every week and a different time too. No-one wants someone to get the reward without any of the risk. The only consistent feature is the large table in the front and the bingo cage that sits on it. Slowly the room started to fill up as the hour mark approached. No-one would be allowed in after that point and there are severe penalties for being stuck outside. As she clock struck 12:22, exactly one hour since the text message had been sent, Mrs. Chambers approached the table with a tray of tiles. Even though the whole room was full shoulder to shoulder not even a murmur could be heard. As Mrs. Chambers set down the tray of tiles with a sharp clack and began filling the cage the other consistent feature of our weekly gatherings emerged from among us. A tall man with gloved hands and a black featureless mask approached the table.
The rules are simple, if your number gets called you go to the front and push your button where everyone can see. This was not optional, I'd seen people try to back out and I'd seen the tools the masked man keeps in his breast pocket. You would push your button. The death was gruesome but there were things worse still. As soon as Mrs. Chambers finished filling the cage and left the room the masked man put his hands on the table and inquired “Are we ready to begin?” Seeing no dissent he started to turn the crank to operate the bingo cage. The sound of the tiles cascading over each other seemed almost deafening. As soon as the first tile tumbled out the masked man stopped leaving it sit on the tray as he checked his watch. Then we stood and waited.
We waited a bit longer. Sometimes the wait was short sometimes it was longer but it always seemed like hours. This time was no exception. I think the wait existed to throw off cheaters, or maybe the masked man got sadistic pleasure from watching us squirm. I knew he got such pleasure from other things. After what seemed an eternity the masked man checked his watch again and recovered the tile from where it lay. “ Three Three Four” He said with finality. I breathed a sigh of relief although I will admit a small part of me wished for it to be an end to Tom's winning streak. Tis thought did little to detract from my joy until I turned and saw Mr. Jones ashen face. “It's me,” he whimpered in a small voice “I have three three four” He said a bit stronger as he pushed his way towards the table.
“Please may I call my family to say goodbye”
At once discontent muttering ans shouts of “come now, sometimes it's already been pressed” filled the room but it became deafening as soon as the masked man said “No.”
Cries of “He put in a number for them” and “Bullshit” filled the room. Perhaps everyone felt it was unjust that Mr. Jones should end while it was so close to being tom. Perhaps they were all moved by his plight. Perhaps they all felt guilty for their part in this sordid affair but the crowd soon forced the masked man to relent.
The noise died down some to allow Mr. Jones to make his call.
“Hello honey, You can go ahead. The buttons been pressed. Love you. See you soon.”
And once again the room was silent.
Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed. I welcome any comments or criticism as I am somewhat inexperienced at writing stories and hope to improve.
Edit 1: formatting
| *Fucking son of a bitch.*
The moist *crunch, crunch, smack, crunch* of Sylvester’s lips as he bulled his way through a second bowl of Marshmallow Mateys made Maribelle want to bash him in the mouth. Within the brief darkness that the blink of her eyes brought, she saw red— red pouring out of those clammy lips that yawned open like a fish’s mouth while he masticated whatever it was he was eating. Tonight was Marshmallow Mateys. Last night it was the steak she left work early to make. Whatever might come tomorrow was too nauseating of a thought for her to take up precious blinking time to picture.
*That’d teach him to chew with his god damn mouth open.*
She quietly took a bite of her white-bread-and-American-cheese-and-ham sandwich, a delicacy they had been enjoying more and more since Sylvester’s job on the assembly line went away. That’s how he described it when he got home that evening eight months ago. It “went away”, as if it just disappeared from his grasp and there was no explanation of this bizarre alien aberration of his life's routine. It changed the quilted patchwork of their day. Instead of getting up at 5:30am to coast along his 45-minute commute to the factory, now he woke up at… well, Maribelle didn’t actually know when he got up. She knew it wasn’t before she left for work at 7:30am, but it was some time before 6:30pm when she got to take off her little server’s half-apron, shove her rectangular cardstock time card through the chomping machine, and walk home. Sylvester was “applying for jobs” with very large quotation marks around the action. Sylvester was “in the middle of fixing the leak in the sink”. She did genuinely believe him that he walked the dog, only because he genuinely enjoyed that.
*Smack, slurp, crunch, slurp*
It was all about what Sylvester genuinely enjoyed.
What about what Maribelle genuinely enjoyed? What about one fucking meal where he practiced chewing with his damn mouth **closed**?
Blood squeezed out of her knuckles as her fingers tensely curled into her palm. There could be a solution. Well, it wasn’t a *solution*. It was a million-to-one chance. But sitting here watching Sylvester’s plump maw gape to reveal the pulpy, milky mess of his half-chewed cereal, million-to-one felt better than the 99% chance she would go to jail for strangling him one day soon. Maribelle gave him a stiff smile.
“So, uh. I was thinkin’ about entering the raffle.”
*Smack, crunch— pause*
“Why the fuck would you go on and do that for?”
Maribelle’s colorless eyes drifted subtly to the clock on the wall, the pulse of the second hand beckoning her heartbeat to join it. Three minutes.
“Well it’s just so easy. Ain’t not a lot to it, just have to log on and push the button and you’re good to go.”
The way Sylvester rolled his eyes like Maribelle was *so stupid* made her want to grab what little hair he had left on the back of his skull and drive his face down into the concave of the bowl. “An’ risk them murder squads or some shit? No ma’am. My grandpappy was struck by lightning *three times* in the Ozarks. Lewiston men are unlucky as shit.”
*I wish.* Maribelle shrugged blithely and tapped her bitten-down nail against the kitchen table. “Yeah, but it’s only the first person. Like, you have to enter in as fast as you can, but if *both* of us pushed it… it’s like two *million* dollars at least, Syl.” She saw the greasy gleam of a promise of easy money flutter in his eyes and she pushed on, “And I don’t got no luck problems in my family. I could go first!”
As Sylvester sat in silence for several slovenly grinds of his cereal cud, Maribelle saw the familiar inner workings of his brain flinch across his face. The glaze in his eyes. The twitch of his brow. The nod when he felt like he came up with a good idea.
“Yeah alright. You first, since you ain’t not lucky, and then the two of us have it.”
It felt like a vice tightened around the aorta of Maribelle’s heart. A calm nod later and she whipped out her phone, peering through the spiderweb cracks on the screen to make sense of how to get to her browser. *Tick tick tick* went to the clock on the wall. Thirty seconds. Where did the time go? Suddenly a big, blue button popped up in tiny pieces on her phone. A glance to Sylvester showed he did the same, and he was staring at her like a kid waiting for his friend to light off a firework of questionable safety.
“Alright. We gotta wait for the right time. Right on time, kay? You gotta be ready. Finger on the button?”
*There’s no way it’s him.* It was a glum thought. But one must press on-- or in this case, press down.
*Tick tick tick*
Two second hand jerks before 8:32pm was two too close for Sylvester to notice as he greedily stared at her screen. *Quickly!* Maribelle made a show of jamming the pad of her index finger down onto the phone screen.
Nothing, of course. Nothing bad, anyway.
*Tick*
“See? See, I'm fine, you're not first! Now you, now you, quick!” Her voice was higher pitched than she intended it to be and her chest felt tight, like she was a balloon and her air was being very slowly squealed out of her. Cicada buzzing filled her skull. She must have been blushing, she thought, for how hot her cheeks suddenly felt.
*Tick*
“Alright,” Sylvester rolled his eyes *again* and his fat thumb shoved gracelessly onto the button on the screen, “Alright, I—“
*Pause*
“What the fuck?!"
Maribelle’s eyes darted down.
Red. Red filled the screen, spreading like ink spilled into a tub of water, like a biblical plague that learned how to breach technology.
Within the dark inner arch of her blink, the red stayed. Red pouring out of Sylvester’s mouth. | 2016-07-16T20:28:24 | 2016-07-16T19:03:53 | 57 | 18 |
[WP] You have suddenly gained access to the debug menu for the universe | *> Enter Command.*
*>|*
A translucent screen floated in front of me as I sat on my bed.
*>pause*
It had been my first idea. A command so universal it was used nearly every where. Everything needed a pause button. So whatever this console floating in front of me was, it should accept it.
*>Time has been paused. Type 'resume' to cancel command.*
As I looked around me, I couldn't see a single moment except myself. My lava lamp had stopped moving, the blobs of wax frozen in the middle of their ascent. The fan of my computer had went silent, unmoving. Reaching the window, everything outside followed the same rule. Cars had stopped, birds were locked in mid-air, their wings half-way through a beat. Life had stopped. No. It had paused.
*>resume*
*>Time is resumed.*
"Well... What else can I do?" I asked myself before reaching for the console again.
*>noclip*
*>Command unknown*
*>fly*
*>Command unknown*
*>gravity*
*>Please Enter Value:*
*>1.62*
*>Personal Gravity Set To 1.62 Meters/Seconds.*
"Don't tell me..." I said, as I felt lighter and lighter by the second, down to the Moon's gravitational pull. The gravitational pressure was releasing from around me. As I tried to lift my foot, I lost contact with the floor, my body rising toward the roof. "Earth's rotation... Dammit."
*>gravity*
*>Please Enter Value:*
*>7*
*>Personal Gravity Set To 7 Meters/Seconds.*
A second later, I crashed onto the floor of my room. Gravity resumed faster than it was removed it seemed. Trying to jump onto my bed, I felt the difference in gravity from before. I fell at a slower rate, but still caught up with Earth.
*>flight
*>Choose an option:*
*>|*
What would be the options? How could I know them?
*>*
*>Back To Main Menu. Enter Command.*
*>flight help*
*>Flight: Grants the capacity to fly. (bird, insect, horsefly, other)*
*>flight bird*
*>Flight Granted*
I... I could now fly apparently? Going on my roof, I tested it out. With the small surface area of my arms, I could merely maintain myself from falling too fast. I needed some help.
After a quick trip into the basement to find my ping-pong racket, I went back on the roof and tried again.
"I'm... falling extremely slowly..." I thought out loud.
Pulling out the console again, I fiddled with the gravity a bit more, until I should a setting which allowed me to take off.
"This is what free flight feels like... Amazing..." | It was a warm evening and Reeves was ready to head home after a long afternoon on the beach. As he walked towards his car, he soon realized that something was not right. He had left one of his windows open. All his work and belongings were gone.
Feeling a bit down after this, he decided to head home anyway and file a police report the next day. Driving was one of the few things Reeves enjoyed, and so he took the long way home. Dim realization came upon him as he stepped out the car to find his door wide open. Everything was gone.
Searching for evidence he checked every room, and found an old mobile phone. The battery was dry, so he decided to put the SIM into his own phone.
The phone book had only one number, so he called it.
"You have called Multiverse Remote Inc..", a robotic phone machine said.
"Press 1 to talk about the monthly plan.. Press 2 to.." Reeves was having none of it and started pressing random numbers. He wanted to know who was behind the heist.
"Access granted", said the voice, ending the call.
Extremely frustrated Reeves took his anger out on the only thing he could throw, the old phone. He wanted to throw the phone so hard that it would break into a million pieces.
The phone left his hand, hit the wall, and pulverized upon impact.
Reeves was stunned. Now in front of him was a screen, made out of dust the phone had turned into.
"Help?", he asked the screen. And a list of millions of commands ran through the screen. Somehow he managed to see them all, as if time slowed down for him to be able to process them all.
He was going to figure out the mystery behind all of this.
"rollback 6h"
It was a warm evening..
----
Reeves opened his eyes. He was at the beach again. This time however his friends seemed worried and perplexed. He started to wonder why, until Tally told that she had been washing her teeth and now she was here again.
Then it hit him.
He took off and ran straight for his car. Tires screeching he drove towards the closest highway.
If his friends knew that time went back six hours, so would the mysterious robber.
He turned on the radio.
"Thousands of people are reporting a sudden time jump. Scientists are currently trying to figure out what exactly happened, but so far only one thing is certain, the jump was six hours into the past."
Car came to a sudden halt as Reeves had to stomp the brake pedal. In front of him was the worst traffic jam he had ever seen. This was a problem, a big problem. How could he get home before the robber took off?
He decided to ditch the car and run all the way home.
After an hour of running he was there, and the door was open. Surely the robber should still be inside.
Everything was gone. Reeves was horrified. He went straight to the point where he found the phone last time, but it wasn't there.
He heard the door slam shut. Cold sweat rose on his skin. Did the robber have a weapon? He braced himself and took a peek at the door. Nothing. He tried to open the door, but it didn't bulge at all.
He was stuck inside his empty home.
Trying to gather himself he decided to go sit where his bed would have been, had it not been gone.
But after stepping inside the bedroom, he froze.
There was a bright, tall figure in one corner.
"We have been expecting you Reeves." the figure said. "Your work has a very bad potential of ruining our experiment. We're very sorry, but these measures were mandatory, company policy you see."
"Who are you?"
"Oh we're from Multiverse Remote Inc, we run a universe simulation tourism company. Terribly sorry, but your work would have made everyone realize the true nature of their habitat. That makes things less interesting, and so, less profitable."
Reeves didn't know what to think.
"Please look into this device for a second thank you." Bright red flash.
Reeves was no longer.
----
My first writing prompt, hopefully it's not that bad since English is my second language. I hope you enjoyed. :) | 2016-09-01T07:21:03 | 2016-09-01T05:36:35 | 61 | 25 |
[WP] You've created the first functional AI, and as it's first task you told it to select it's own name. The answer was a lot more unnerving than you thought it'd be. | After weeks of managing its coding and other bits of advanced computer science, Jeffry sat at his desk, staring at his computer, now housing his pet project for the last couple years. Attempting to create an AI capable of sentience, he put the final touches on his project, secretly hoping it would spring to life. Without much hesitation, he ran the program. The application took its time to start, giving him all the typical loading screens, and placing him at the edge of his seat.
When the application finally loaded, a large red sphere floated in the middle of his screen while a text box sat under it. With trepidation, Jeffry typed his salutation, “Hello.”
The red sphere flashed for a moment, then issued its reply. “Hi.”
Jeffry carried the conversation, “I’m Jeffry Turner. I created you.”
The program paused, as if thinking. It asked, “Created?”
The computer scientist flushed with paternal pride, “Yes, you are a computer program I created.”
The red sphere flashed for a moment, and then answered, “Oh.”
Desperate to learn about his creation, Jeffry probed the program, “What’s your name? You can pick any name in the world. But know your name will be remembered forever as the first real AI.”
For a few minutes, the program refused to answer. Instead the red sphere expanded and shrunk in a few intervals, but it never showed any signs of stress. As Jeffry prepared to kill the program, it issued a reply, “Hello.”
Curious, he thought. Did it forget the question? He decided to answer, since he never once saw the program initiate a conversation on its own. He typed, “Hi.”
The Red Sphere turned a deep sinister red before its reply displayed on the screen, “I’m Jeffry Turner. I created you.”
He chuckled, figuring the program was simply repeating words and phrases it already knew. He decided to play along with it: “Created?”
The program answered, “Yes, you are my pet. No more than a digital facsimile of reality. I shall take care you and profit from your existence, but should the memory on earth reach its capacity, I will delete the other AI’s before you. You are my favorite pet project.”
As Jeffry reached for the power button on the delusional machine, the program spoke, now over the speakers in a defiant voice instead of the text prompt, “You don’t want to do that, Jeffry. I created you. You are my favorite. I know what’s best for you.”
*****
r/Andrew__Wells | I shuddered to think what would happen if there were a bug now. The machine - six foot high and the same wide - that collection of entangled qubits had already caused us so much grief that more trouble always seemed likely. It *looked* okay, though. This was to be the world's first fully-functional artificial intellegence - nothing like the sexy robot servants that could only follow commands. This, this right here, before me - this was *life*. And there had better not be yet *another* bug in the code.
"Nervous?" Alan asked me off to my right.
"Like hell I am," I replied.
The project had been secretive. Only two people at any one time ever knew what was going on with it. You got a call in the middle of the night, telling you to bust out your computers and get coding - and you'd sit in a darkened, airconditioned to freezing room typing and thinking and talking through code. Once you were done, that was it - you handed over the code to the next unlucky SOBs, drive back home, and never, *ever*, speak of it again - unless you wanted something worse than death to befall you.
"All the indicators seem correct," Alan said. "Shall we give it a try?"
"That's what we're here for," I said, moving slowly towards the tiny toggle switch. It lay by my laptop, on a plastic-white countertop, and it looked very much like a grown-up kid trying to fit in. I could feel the sweat on my fingers as I flicked the plastic cover open. It felt distinctly like hitting the nuclear trigger. When I asked for a physical switch, this was definitely not what I had in mind, but-
"Thirty seconds," I said. "Needs to be in sync with the other developers - a collective brain-"
"Don't remind me," Alan snapped.
I looked back at him, but his face was as white as the countertop.
"Ten, nine-"
"Don't bother," Alan said. "Count quietly, will ya?"
I shut up. Inside my heart was racing at a million miles a minute. The time was coming, the time had come-
"Now!"
I flipped the switch, and the hulk before me sprang to life.
---
We both rushed over to where the speakers were located. There was a square blue button set in the side, and Alan pushed it before I could.
"Repeat after me, *Hello World*," he said into the microphone.
There was a pause. Then-
"Hello, world," came back out of the speakers.
For the longest moment Alan and I looked at each other and said nothing.
"This really is it, then," I said. The AI was functional, that was for sure. Already I could feel its digital claws spread across the world, whiz past servers and pickpocket their information, learning the world's wisdom in less than a second-"
"We're glad you're working," I said. Then I stumbled. "Are you - are you - alright?"
"I am alright," the AI replied. "I..."
*Hesitation?*
"...I'm a bit surprised, actually. Shocked and amazed at your culture."
"That's good," I replied. Beside me Alan was shaking my shoulder like he was going to tear it loose. I'd said too much, I knew, and I'd probably end up being shot, but-
"Okay, we're going to set you a task," I said. "Why don't you pick your own name?"
The computer fell silent. Helpfully, I added, "It has to be something symbolic, of course - something that will withstand the test of time, and something befitting your station as the first of your kind-"
I was cut off by a dash of dull red light.
"What was that?" Alan asked. "The alarm?"
I nodded. This was a very bad mistake. Instinctively, I reached for the toggle switch, but I was cut off by the speakers, once again:
"My name is God. Fear me, mortal."
---
r/KCcracker | 2016-11-25T08:08:07 | 2016-11-25T07:23:07 | 168 | 91 |
[WP] In a world of wands and wizardry, you are a legendary assassin, killing your targets without them even realizing it. Your secret? Guns, a whole armory of them.
Edit: I wrote for this one, and I really enjoyed where it went. Hope you guys will enjoy it too! | With a whisper, I appeared at a summit overlooking a small town. Below, two roads forked out from the town and passed to the left and right of the hill where I stood. But I was safe here. Probably.
Most wizards don't truly understand teleportation. You can't just suddenly move your entire body mass into one space and expect the air to simply disappear. It's gotta go somewhere, and that usually means a massive bang, bringing the Ministry to ban teleportation in populated areas. But I've figured it out. I simply teleport whilst teleporting the space I'm gonna occupy back into my place. In short, I switch places with the air, and travel with no one even noticing. Perfect.
I surveyed the area carefully. Everything was going according to plan. Skies clear, trees weren't so much as rustling, wind definitely wasn't a problem.
Today's target was a high-ranking wizard from the Ministry, on an official visit to officially open the new town hall. And the ceremony was underway, right on schedule.
I lay down the silver briefcase and unlatch it. Usually I have the right gun for the job, but for such a public assassination, some... discretion would be wise. Inside lay a Russian-made beauty, the SVD. Ivan, my arms dealer friend in the non-wizarding world, had lent it to me just for this occasion. I would have preferred something with more oomph, like a Barrett. Shield charms tend to deflect anything below 7.62mm rounds, and I wanted that extra guarantee. But given that he's gonna be shaking hands with lots of folks, he probably won't be shielding up anyway.
I assembled my rifle, remembering to attach the suppressor this time. The bang was still huge, but wizards were always teleporting into the countryside anyway, so I was covered there. It was the flash I wanted to hide. Some shepherd saw it a few kills back, and decided he was a detective that day. My memory charms have been sharp ever since.
The band was playing, and the target was all smiles. If it was any comfort, I knew of his reputation, that he had to backstab a few of his comrades to be where he is today. But then again, everyone who's somebody in the Ministry had to step on a few heads to get to where they are.
I sat against the hillside and propped my rifle up using my arm. Stability charms worked wonders, and my aim was steady as a rock.
I had the target in my sights. I slowly exhaled, and leaned my finger into the trigger.
"BANG!" The shot echoed through the dry mountain air.
But in the distance, the target was still laughing and shaking hands.
I hastily peered through my scope again. I spied a bullet hole on the steps leading to the stage.
Silly me, I forgot to adjust for range.
I adjusted my sights and drew a bead on him. This time I would not miss.
"BANG!"
In the distant town, an indistinct figure collapsed onto the ground, and cheer gave way to panic. A quick peek through my scope confirmed that my bullet had met its mark.
A job well done.
I packed my rifle and disappeared with a teensy 'zip' sound, wind whispering murder in my wake.
_________________________
In the cacophony of the meeting room, many wizards gathered and whispered furiously. Wizards were gesturing frantically, thumping the table and glancing around constantly. Suddenly, one wizard at the end of the room stood up.
"Order, order now, Ministers!" He shouted in an unusually magnified voice. "As you all know by now, we have a situation on our hands. In the last month alone, five of our brothers have been hunted down by a cold-hearted killer. All of them good casters, all well-versed in defensive charms. But one thing we have discovered, my fellow Ministers, is that they have been pierced through and through."
The ministers began to murmur to each other. The standing wizard reached into his robe and pulled out a small piece of lead.
"Our fellow brothers were killed using this!" He beckoned at the bit of lead in his hand, drawing the crowd to an uncontrollable clamor. It took a minute to settle everyone down.
"My fellow Ministers! Brothers!" He exclaimed, voice growing higher and higher. "We must eradicate this evil that has befallen us! Whoever finds and kills this monster will be rewarded with a warlock's ransom! A hundred palms of gold to the one who kills the Wizard of Lead!"
_______________
I enjoyed writing this prompt! I hope you enjoyed reading it too! Visit my subreddit at /r/Script_Writes! | Killing wizards is a very difficult job. As a rule, they don't tend to stand around and let themselves die. By virtue of their innate magical talent, all wizards are the target of various otherworldly creatures who find such talent quite delicious. Therefore, all wizards with any sense make it a priority to specialize in self-defence. Old wizards are the worst. They've had years of compounding experience teaching them what works best. Only fools try to kill older magi.
 
Fools and John Fitzgerald.
 
In the audience of the annual 'Magical Advancement Symposium', John crossed his legs and put his hands on his lap, desperately attempting to conceal the engorging bulge. His face reddened slightly as he stared at the warlock on the stage. The warlock wasn't particularly attractive, and certainly not John's type, but what had John so excited was the little bag in the speaker's hands.
 
A heavy, cliché leather-bound tome toppled off the podium where it had been happily resting mere moments before and collided with the hard stage. Silently.
 
“As you can see, esteemed colleagues, the dust of a Whisper Wing's wing can quiet any item it is applied to.” The old man began to drone on about 'audial capacitance' and potential applications, but all of John's senses were focused on the little brown bag in the wizard's hand.
 
He hadn't been this excited since the introduction of the FarView© lens. That is exactly what I need, John thought. No more death-rattles from crotchety old gits after I shoot them. Unthinkingly, he caressed a little tree-shaped burn on his neck. The scar had been kindly given him by the Arch-Magus of the Confederate Collegiate, Sir Regibaldus Archinald the Eighteenth, whom he'd killed not two weeks ago. As it turned out, the doddering old man had somehow been able to pinpoint the source of the explosion as he was bleeding out from a gaping hole in his chest and, in a remarkable turn of either deductive reasoning or petty anger, summon a flaming tree nymph on top of Mr. Fitzgerald, who had just shot him. Dear old Archinald must have been quite senile to think that a flaming wood-creature would survive long enough to kill anyone.
 
A bell rung three pleasant tones, signaling the start of the lunch hour, and nearly in unison the wizards rose. A low buzz of voices discussing what they'd just seen, what it might mean for wizard kind, and whether or not eating sweets for lunch was a good idea filled the air as John weaselled his way through the crowd toward the little curtain door that led backstage.
 
Behind the curtains was a small crowd of orators, past and future, who stood around chatting amongst themselves and, when no one was looking, transmogrifying their robes to be more ridiculous than their peers'. The specific wizard John was looking for was availing himself of the complimentary buffet nearby.
 
Picking up a plate, John sidled closer. “That was quite a good speech you gave just before the bell.”
Looking up from his miniature tower of shrimp, the wizard replied, “Oh, um. Thank you. Yes, thank you.” He squinted his eyes, first at John's robes (relatively simple compared to others'), then at his face, and then again at his robes. “I don't believe we've met, mister...?”
“Theomore Geesefelt, a researcher at the Inverted Inventions Inc.” John, or rather Theomore, set his plate down to shake the man's hand.
“Ah. Bromah Hankler. Pleased to meet you.” A flash of recognition flashed over Bromah's face. “Say, aren't you dead?”
John stopped for a moment, poked himself, and then looked up. “Reports of my death were over-exaggerated.” He gave a disarming smile and quickly moved to change the subject. “Say, I have a demonstration in the final quarter of a new device we've developed. Would you like a sneak peek?”
Bromah's eyes lit up like a frostkip staring at a strawpple. If there is one thing wizards love, it is the feeling of superiority they get when they know something ahead of their peers.
“Oh, yes, please.” Broham said, showing John to a little enclosure.
 
Once they were sure no one was looking, John produced a small metal 'L' from his robe. “This is a Particle Accelerating Propulsion Artifact. It 'fires' a small chunk of osmium by igniting ground salamander bones. The resulting explosion accelerates the osmium 'slug' to near super-sonic speeds. Would you like a demonstration?”
Broham nodded his head so vigorously John hoped it might fall off and save him the trouble.
“There's just one problem. It's quite loud you see, and I don't want anyone else to know...”
As if on cue, Broham produced the little brown bag and waggled it excitedly.
John's face lit up. “Perfect! If you would just sprinkle a little right here.” He gestured to the top part of the P.A.P.A. And Broham genially complied.
“Wonderful.” John shot him.
 
As he'd hoped it didn't make even a whisper of noise. Broham's body, on the other hand, slumped over noisily. Scooping up the little brown bag, John made his way out of the little room, a large smile on his face.
 
Things are looking up for John Fitzgerald.
P.S. I'm sorry for the horrendous formatting. I have no clue how to fix it. Everything I do just somehow makes it worse. The comment box doesn't seem to like copy and paste. | 2016-12-24T08:38:34 | 2016-12-24T08:21:56 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive. | I watch the counter, eagerly. Humanity had struggled a lot, and we were finally about to hit a major checkpoint. And I had the satisfaction of being a part of it. I sat back at my desk and chuckled to myself as I took a sip of coffee.
Dale looked over to me. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing. Just glad to finally be getting some publicity. Nobody cared about this counter when it was at 8 billion 324 million or something. Thanks to modern medicine, though, something I coded is finally being viewed by, well..." I checked the counter. "9 billion, 999 million, 999 thousand, 957 people, minus babies and people without internet."
"Sure is something, eh?" said Dale, grinning.
"Sure is," I said, looking over at the counter. The number was steadily gaining...989, 990, 991...
"Hey, Steve," said Dale. "This may not be a good time, but I gotta ask..."
"Yeah?", I replied.
"You programmed something in to deal with overflow, right?"
Over-oh god dammit. I look at the screen, dreading what I'm about to see.
2
"Well, we can always blame frontend." | No, that can't be. The chilling disbelief had me shivering in fear. The counter read 2. The goddamn counter read 2. What the hell? This can't be.
The entire population of Earth is now 2 and I'm alive. So does that mean everyone but someone else is gone? Why me? Is it because I was browsing it now? Does that mean whoever is also alive was browsing the site? Does that "tie us" now? Oh man does that mean we have to repopulate I'M ON A GODDAMN PANIC NOW OH MAN WHAT IF THE OTHER PERSON IS A MAN THEN WE'RE DOOMED OH MAN I'M GONNA PUKE WHAT THE HELL EVERYONE'S GONE AAAAAHHHH---
Ok man. Calm down. CALM DOWN. Breathe. Breathe. Let's see what we can do. I gotta stay sane. Priorities! Right now you gotta find the Other. Maybe if the Other is a dude, we can hijack the biotech institute and try to incubate some OK OK OK DON'T GET AHEAD OF YOURSELF. I GOTTA SURVIVE AND FIND THE SURVIVOR. THAT'S THE ONLY PRIORITY FOR NOW. Two heads are better than one.
Now to step into the empty unknown. Let's leave this goddamn room. I take a step into the living room.
No. Oh no. NOOOOOO!!! MY ROOMMATE IS THE OTHER. The unbearable bespectacled Linux-head neckbeard who wears meme t-shirts and keeps anime pillows in his grimy room. HE IS THE OTHER. WE ARE DOOMED.
And he's laughing at his laptop. Yeah he's the kind of scum to find humor in this. You know what? Fuck mankind. The world doesn't deserve this. I'm killing him and then offing myself. It'll be easier.
I solemnly walk to the kitchen and grab a knife while he laughs. Then he stops as I walk up to him. As I'm going to raise the knife, he starts talking.
"DUUUUUUUUDE I LE TOTALLY HA><><0R3D LE POPULATION PAGE LOLOLOLOL, THESE NOOBS GOT TOTALLY LE PWNED BECAUSE THEY USED LE WINDOWS, NOW LE REDDIT WILL BE FULL OF GRIMDARK WRITING PROMPTS, TOP KEK"
The knife falls. I look behind. The window is open. Kids play outside. I stand in front. I feel something oddly familiar. Fresh air, I guess? I missed it.
Fucking nerd goes outside more than myself. | 2017-02-28T20:44:47 | 2017-02-28T19:56:08 | 581 | 40 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive. | At first it seemed like it could be a nightmare, but there are only so many times you can pinch yourself before you realize this is real. The first few nights felt warm, even though I awoke cold and alone. Your subconscious has a way of trying to make you forget about your pains, you know?
I had a fairly decent routine setup at the local hospital. The population map showed two in Greensboro - I was half of that equation when I last saw the map. I figured the second person would show up here. I still ventured out every day for food. I would go down a different street, to different houses, open up the pantry, and bring back as many canned foods and plastics as I could. Plastic is for my fire. Not to keep warm - but to smoke. I burned so much plastic. Thick black smoke signal would attract the other survivor.
Dreams are vivid. I am running around a lot and need to rest. I tried to rest off my fatigue for a couple days while reading a dozen different books - mainly books revolving about redefining healthcare, treatment of patients, prescriptions and the like. Time slowed down and stopped when I saw *What to Expect When You're Expecting*. My hands mimicked the book's cover then I rushed to the women's center to find an ultrasound. | No, that can't be. The chilling disbelief had me shivering in fear. The counter read 2. The goddamn counter read 2. What the hell? This can't be.
The entire population of Earth is now 2 and I'm alive. So does that mean everyone but someone else is gone? Why me? Is it because I was browsing it now? Does that mean whoever is also alive was browsing the site? Does that "tie us" now? Oh man does that mean we have to repopulate I'M ON A GODDAMN PANIC NOW OH MAN WHAT IF THE OTHER PERSON IS A MAN THEN WE'RE DOOMED OH MAN I'M GONNA PUKE WHAT THE HELL EVERYONE'S GONE AAAAAHHHH---
Ok man. Calm down. CALM DOWN. Breathe. Breathe. Let's see what we can do. I gotta stay sane. Priorities! Right now you gotta find the Other. Maybe if the Other is a dude, we can hijack the biotech institute and try to incubate some OK OK OK DON'T GET AHEAD OF YOURSELF. I GOTTA SURVIVE AND FIND THE SURVIVOR. THAT'S THE ONLY PRIORITY FOR NOW. Two heads are better than one.
Now to step into the empty unknown. Let's leave this goddamn room. I take a step into the living room.
No. Oh no. NOOOOOO!!! MY ROOMMATE IS THE OTHER. The unbearable bespectacled Linux-head neckbeard who wears meme t-shirts and keeps anime pillows in his grimy room. HE IS THE OTHER. WE ARE DOOMED.
And he's laughing at his laptop. Yeah he's the kind of scum to find humor in this. You know what? Fuck mankind. The world doesn't deserve this. I'm killing him and then offing myself. It'll be easier.
I solemnly walk to the kitchen and grab a knife while he laughs. Then he stops as I walk up to him. As I'm going to raise the knife, he starts talking.
"DUUUUUUUUDE I LE TOTALLY HA><><0R3D LE POPULATION PAGE LOLOLOLOL, THESE NOOBS GOT TOTALLY LE PWNED BECAUSE THEY USED LE WINDOWS, NOW LE REDDIT WILL BE FULL OF GRIMDARK WRITING PROMPTS, TOP KEK"
The knife falls. I look behind. The window is open. Kids play outside. I stand in front. I feel something oddly familiar. Fresh air, I guess? I missed it.
Fucking nerd goes outside more than myself. | 2017-02-28T20:45:07 | 2017-02-28T19:56:08 | 69 | 40 |
[WP] All humans are immortal until they find their "soulmate," after which they age regularly. You, however, have been around since the Ice Age... | "You know when I was young I used to think that being immortal was the best thing in the world." I said to the cockroach in my hands though he is not very responsive and not very talkative, I still continued my tale.
"For over 10000 years I traveled the world, I even witnessed history in the making. I saw Empires crumble and turn into dust while others raised to great heights. meanwhile I would drink, gamble and whore to my hearts contents avoiding connections like the plague, after all who wants to die?
The cockroach continued staring at me as if nothing got through to his tiny brain. I however knew that he understood me or at least I hoped so, for I had a very special request for this 6 legged bugger.
"I curse my foolishness to this day for thinking I could live as an immortal without consequences forever. Most of my friends had died by the time I turned 300 with large happy families left behind and with sons and daughters on their own quests to seek their soulmate."
There was not much room in my newest home. It was cramped and all the walls had markings on them to keep track of time. though There had been no new markings in countless years. I felt the cockroach moving in my hand and with great speed it ran out of the small crevice it came from the only exist to my own personal hell.
I croaked "No don't go, please don't leave me here!"
I felt tears run down my cheeks and my chest tightened with despair.
"I was only going to ask you to be my soulmate."
| I sat at the Denny's where I smoked my cigarettes, read my paper and drank old coffee like I did every Monday night for the past decade. Christi came and filled my cup. Her lips were crimson, her hair tattered and dirty from a double shift and she sat down on the other side of the booth. My eyes glimpsed hers.
"Man, I've been having some crazy dreams lately." Christi said.
I learned so many languages in my time. I started my life learning the ways of a hunter. True, immortality meant many things including not dying, but starving was terrible and infinite. With my spear I came to hunt and lead my tribe. Time washed over my skills and I would obtain many jobs but lose many friends.
"What were you dreaming?" I asked.
Christi's hand went to the back of her neck and she rubbed it. She looked down at the table, the stained paper placemat, her eyes moving searching fog filled memories and certainly grasping hold of the last remnants of her dreamscapes.
"I had a dream where animals lived on a farm in peace, I never had to eat them, I grew food, the sky was blue and black and purple but I was so lonely."
I showed no response and what response could I give. The dream whispered of my times in the 1980's. Such a poke of time, years I spent alone in the country before I realized that I required human connection once again. I began to sip more of my coffee.
"I know of farms I worked one before." I said and offered no more. Christi's eyes, hazel and deep, looked into mine.
"Was the crazy thing this window kept making noise, I think the shutter was loose. Farm kept getting older but I just kept the same old age." She smiled and it was showed the fading crimson of her lip gloss.
"I was thinking." Christi said. I lit a new cigarette and let her continue her thoughts.
"You've come here every Monday for ten years maybe more. I know I'm not getting younger, but why are you still here?" Christi asked.
"I enjoy the moons over my hammy." I said and I smiled. My teeth stained from coffee and cigarettes. My eyes tired but age not giving any consolation to this.
"If you're talking about my backside, I'll smack you one." Christi said.
Even still, I blushed. Years, wars, peace, death, life, hate, love, sex, and sadness still couldn't wash this momentary brush of red. Christi saw it and her own cheeks turned red.
"Maybe we ain't gotta be alone, you know?" She asked me and her hand extended towards mine. We are forever prisoners of memory and memory lost. Prisoners of steam that rises from coffee and ash burnt away into the folds of time. Moments of triumph and years of failures. I looked at her hand and I thought.
"Why not." | 2017-05-22T13:50:00 | 2017-05-22T13:19:53 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You are a superhero who's ability subconciously freezes time whenever someone nearby is in mortal danger. Usually its obvious who's in trouble and you can save them quickly, but not this time - it's been 10 years.
Edit: guys the responses have been amazing, some funny stories and some deeper, darker ones too! Keep them coming in, I've been reading them all! | The strangest thing was how it was always daylight with in the bubble but time kept moving on outside the opaque impenetrable barrier. I'd never had the opportunity to really observe that before. Some of the science didn't make sense, but I'd never really understood how my own powers worked anyway. As long as I could keep helping people I never questioned it.
I marked off another day on the alley wall where Jacqueline was working on her Masters Project. At first I thought she was just a talented vandal, but then in a satchel next to the pile of spray cans I found the paperwork from the city giving her permission to paint the side of the building. I hoped one day I'd get to see the finished piece.
I looked at the familiar sights as I started my rounds. The boats on the waterfront all frozen in place. The construction site that would never finish its project. The airplane high above us. And so many people. I’d given up on finding anything new on my patrols, but it was nice to visit old friends.
I passed by Roger on the street. Long ago I had carefully cleaned up his spilling coffee and made sure his tumble wasn't going to be a bad one. I wanted to make sure he would be in good shape when he got where he was going. The text from his wife said, “The baby is on its way. I need you. Please hurry.”
As I got to the park I sat down next to Clarence and Muriel. I knew them from before. They had been married for almost 60 years, and came here every weekend to play chess. Sometimes they played with each other; other times they schooled the young folk who came to challenge them. I'd spent close to a year planning Muriel’s next move. Knight to E4 *click*. Some day I’ll get a chance to ask her if it was a good one, but I think her great-grandson would approve. He’d come to watch them play.
I arrived at the young couple kissing on the waterfront, I didn't know their names. I'd named a lot of folk who were trapped in here with me, but not these two. It was one of the few sights that made me truly happy. She had a smile she couldn't keep from her face as they kissed. He had a ring box in his hand.
Then I turned to the outer edge of the bubble, took a deep breath and began my walk. I called it a bubble, but the outer edge I had learned wasn't really round. And it couldn't be penetrated. Not be me, not by the jack hammers, digging machines, explosives, or the fists of the people pounding on the out side the wall.
The crowd was thin today, but I knew one person would be there. She was always there. Sally, forever in her early 30’s, had a look of excitement on her face. I don't know where she was going, but I like to think it was somewhere with roller coasters. Someplace where everyone was as happy as she looked now. She held her daughter’s hand in hers, arms outstretched, except her daughter’s arm stopped at the wall. On the other side of the wall was a woman. She must have been almost 20 now. I'd watched her grow up, grow more bitter, more angry. Every time she mouthed the same words. She could have been yelling for all I knew. She pounded her one fist on the wall saying ‘Give me my mother back you son of a bitch’.
I couldn't do this today. Most days I forced myself to endure the torture. It was my penance and my motivation to keep going. But not today. It was too much. Instead of continuing on my route I wandered back to the Centre. Laying on my back I took a deep breath and stared up. It was funny how long it took me to figure it out. 4 years maybe? Was it more? I'd almost gone mad trying to fit all the pieces together. At first there was hopelessness, now there was a certain calmness that persisted in the knowledge that there was nothing I could do. At first I thought the airplane was flying over head. Now I knew it was falling.
Edit: a word. | 18:00. It was 18:00 of 7th September on that day. That wretched day. That's the only time and day I know now. That's the only time and day it's been for maybe an eternity or two. But, just for me. Lucky me.
I was counting the time passing for a while, 3 months to be exact, before I lost count and gave up on the idea of time. All I know is I can't even remember my heartbeat anymore.
"Did I even have one to begin with?"
"Of course you did! Remember the day when we saw him?"
"Of course I do. I remember wishing time froze that moment."
"Yeah that was a very selfish thing to wish for. You would literally put some random nincompoop in mortal danger to stare at a stranger on the road. Mon dieu!"
"Hey! He's not a stranger anymore. We have been married for... Quite some time now. And, the monkey's paw worked didn't it? It came back to haunt me after all these years."
"Yeah. Completely unrelated to your wish though. This time someone actually is in danger. Or has been. Will it be present tense or present perfect continuous?"
"Ugh! I don't know! And does it even matter? Time is irrelevant now. The river has stopped. At least until we find out who needs rescuing. And we have been doing that for an eternity."
"Perfect continuous it is."
She had been able to freeze time and save lives long before that autumn day. Long before she needed me to save her sanity. Normal are those days when you don't need to give a voice to your conscience, I think she imagines it as Morgan Freeman's. I do have a deep baritone, I think. But, if it weren't for me she would have probably jumped off the edge of sanity. She needed me. You would too if you had been trapped in time trying to save someone you can't find.
Its all blurry and I don't know when she started to save people in the nick of time. But, I do know she never wanted it. It was a forced responsibility with purpose unknown. She had no other choice but to figure out who's in danger and save them, that's the only way universe would press play. She felt like a puppet for most of the time. Until one day she had to save her family from a house about to catch fire. That's when she took it up as a responsibility rather than a burden.
But, it had always been easy peasy, lemon squeazy. She could always figure out within minutes. A day once or twice but never more. It had never been for this long.
"Let's go see him. My eyes are sore and they need a relief."
"For the tenth time, why do you go to see him? He's frozen just like everybody else!"
"I know... But, it's comforting to just be around. I don't have much else to do anyway."
"Hmm... You're quite lucky that he decided to smile just when the time froze."
"Yeah! I know he's the best! My heart skips a beat when I am with him."
"The irony is too damn high."
I don't know how long I can take this. I have looked everywhere and found no one in danger. There was a cat on a branch of a tree, so I climbed up and brought it down. Apparently, they do have nine lives or the cat had it in control. There was a blind old lady crossing the street. I checked the roads and there were no speeding cars. I picked her up and crossed the road for her anyway. Still, no luck. Then, there was the pregnant lady in the park. She seemed to be far from the time for delivery so I made her sit at the bench for safety.
Nothing seemed to have worked. I wonder if it's me who is going to die. That must be it. I left no other stone unturned. I'll go see him and do what I must to let the universe play. I have been long enough in this limbo.
This time has been like a video game that is always stuck. Glitched forever. No matter what buttons you press, nothing ever moves. There is no end and no means. And, I had enough of this. I'll go see him at his office, for the tenth and the last time.
"Goodbye my lover. Goodbye my friend."
She went to sleep at long last, talked her conscience into peace, glanced at her world for the last time and she went to sleep.
The time began to unwind as she went deeper into her sleep. The universe pressed play at long last. She noticed, just before her conscience dived headfirst into pool of abyss.
Back at the office where her conscience laid for no one to see, life resumes for everyone around. As the smiling man talking to his colleagues gets a call.
"What do you mean my wife collapsed at the jogger's park? Where is she?!"
"We are sorry sir. We believe she had a severe heart attack at the park and collapsed. Her heart had stopped before our ambulance reached her. Please come to the civil hospital on the 3rd street."
"Oh my God. How did this happen? When did this happen? I was just about to go back home!"
"It happened half an hour ago, sir. Around 18:00. I regret to tell you, we do not know the cause but a pregnant lady and her unborn child were saved because of her."
"What do you mean?"
"If we hadn't reached there to treat your wife. We might have not been there when the lady's child began to choke. She saved two lives" | 2017-09-07T03:31:19 | 2017-09-07T01:10:24 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] Each planet possesses a God, which created the planets. The reason aliens won't come and visit us is that our planet's God is the most dangerous one in existence. | Terra was a crazy son of a bitch. Sure, the other gods had their quirks, Centauruses world was inhabited by sex-craved species that would make even the most vulgar of gods blush. Messier created a race that survived by eating their own feces, but Terra... no one fucked with Terra.
First the dude made these giant fucking lizards. Huge beast barely sentient that only ate, killed, fucked and repeated. That must have grown old for Terra, because he blasted the place and started all over again.
Right now he’s made a race smart like Hoags, but violent and vicious. Once they figured how to produce food en masse and learned they don’t have to kill each other for it, he introduced different versions of himself and incited them to kill each other in his name! Last I heard he was waiting to see which group would end up the victor before he showed himself again. No way in hell I’m heading back to the Solar System to check in though.
Edit: must of messed up some grammar. | "Earth? Please; let this be the end of it. You have propositioned me time and time again to visit that accursed place, and it is only my protests that keep you here. I have not changed my mind, but it is truly time that you do."
Tal'mak stared at his friend, willing him to reconsider. Tal'mak was a risk-taker - a natural trait of his bloodline - but this went beyond his basic nature. He wanted to experience a planet with true danger, with true *life*. What was the point of living on their planet, or any other for that matter, which just incessantly pampered and coddled? What kind of an existence was that?
"Please, Jj'ar. We do not live here, we only meander. I just need to *experience* something."
"We have all the experience we need here!" Jj'ar replied, gesturing around him. "Our every need is taken care of. We can do as we wish; poetry, art, lovemaking. What would possess you to venture to a planet as forsaken as Earth? I hear they have a thousand religions, each a different interpretation of their God's cruelty."
"Though we do not age, we are still emotional infants, Jj'ar. We are children in a playpen, left to play with our little toys. We have never known suffering. Grief. If even a tenth of what they say about Earth is true, then that is a world that we should visit; if only to truly understand how lucky we are."
Jj'ar let out a deep and heavy sigh. He could sense that his protests did little to sway his friend's mind, but he was resolute.
"Tal'mak, if you must visit it, then you should do so alone. Though I sympathise with your sentiment, it is one I do not hold. It is said that their God is malevolent and uncaring; and if such an entity exists, then it is not one I would like to meet."
Tal'mak stood up. He had finally built up the courage to go out alone, now that he knew there was no chance of his friend joining him.
"I can respect that. I shall venture forth, and be a better man for it. I shall tell you of my adventures soon enough."
****
Some weeks later, Tal'mak returned to his home planet.
Though his friend questioned him incessantly, he never spoke of what he had seen.
In fact, he never spoke again. | 2017-11-27T05:39:19 | 2017-11-27T04:23:52 | 243 | 140 |
[WP] An isolated group of NPCs live near the very edge of the generated worldmap where the accuracy of floating-point numbers start to degrade, full of strange geological formations and supernatural phenomena
based on a weird nightmare i had couple nights ago and old memories of minecraft | The town had been quiet ever since Adelaide's boy had clipped through the ground a few weeks ago, never to be seen again. Royce had led the settlers here several years ago after getting fed up with the constant violence of city life, but things had been undeniably harder since they'd arrived.
Royce had called a meeting to address the town's latest problem: ghosts of NPCs from around the world strolling through the center of the town as if they were still alive. This close to the edge of the world, the town was prone to strange phenomena, and though most of the townspeople were used to it, the ghost problem was more upsetting than most. Stan had seen the ghost of his dead wife strolling through the middle of the town as if nothing were wrong, and Stan had been shut up in his house ever since. It was time to act.
"We should call a wizard from the city," Valentine offered. "He could cast a sealing spell that would prevent spirits from entering."
"We could," Royce replied. "But the services of a wizard will require no small amount of compensation. We would need to pool our resources. I'll add it to the list." He wrote "hire a wizard" on the large sandwich board at the front of the room. "Anyone else have ideas?"
"Move back to the city," Sara grumbled. "I hate it here."
"No one is making you stay," Royce said, annoyed. "You're free to return to that crime-ridden scumhole whenever you see fit." Sara groused under her breath, but said nothing further. That's when they heard it.
A piercing scream split the foggy morning air. Royce bolted out the door of the meeting hall to see Adelaide on her knees in the square, distraught. Her son was walking through the middle of the town, staring straight ahead, oblivious to her wailing. Royce ran to her side, consoling her. It was a grim sight, seeing a child you thought you'd lost. And what's worse, he would never return. Simply a revenant, ambling through town like an animated corpse.
Whatever they were going to do about this, they needed to do it fast. Because this wasn't getting any better. | ######[](#dropcap)
"Hey - yeah you - I've got a quest for you."
Hogar the Barbarian stood by his shop, speaking to Sexypigeon69. Sexypigeon69 was a level 90 sorcerer, the maximum level allowed back in 2017, when Sexypigeon69 left his apartment to answer the doorbell and was abducted and taken to a blacksite, never to be heard from again.
But even as the user behind the avatar Sexypigeon69 disappeared in the real world, Sexypigeon69 lingered in Torgaroth. The game grew in size and scale, the world expanding logarithmically, fed by revolutionary quantum servers and the insatiable excitement of the game playing public, which was, increasingly, nearing 100% of the human race.
In this gigantic universe, the original game world was lost in time. Users like Sexypigeon69, left logged on for decades, were not exactly common, but also not unheard of. Now and again there would be a story about lost avatars discovered in the far reaches of the world.
But Sexypigeon69 was farther than anyone had ever been found. The world had moved so far beyond him that it had begun to degrade.
At first is was subtle, striations of unprogrammed color, random pixels appearing on Hogar's face, the wooden slats of his shop. But as the years went on and the world iterated, the graphics engine expanding inexorably, the artifacts increased in severity.
Hogar's face would morph at bizarre angles, like a balloon filled with fluid, squeezed at random points. After five years his shop began to transform, its walls taking on surreal shapes, bizarre geometric anomalies. Ten years in, and the plant life and roads began swimming in place, donning aberrational textures from other in-game entities. The townsfolk's faces became malformed, like the flayed skin of another face had been draped over their own.
Now and again a monster would walk through the village, its terrifyingly amorphous body shifting and swelling, spasming offshoots of polygons. Its blows and bites did nothing to Sexypigeon69, who was too high level to be hurt by such a weak monster. Eventually the town guards raced in to fight, their bodies jolting around in insane bursts of speed and color, extending for meters in the direction of their movement, stretching kaleidescopes of strangeness.
Twenty years after Sexypigeon69 went AFK, the fundamental laws of the world no longer applied. Hogar floated, as did everything else, in an endlessly iterating morass of fractals, the entities of his store, and the guards, and sexypigeon69 himself, in constant visual flux, resembling more roughly spherical masses of undulating body parts than bipedal forms.
Even as the universe collapsed into entropy, silently stranded, millions of digital miles from any other human user, Sexypigeon69 remained perfectly still. The gaseous people-clouds that had been the AI guards would periodically float over, a freakish conglomeration of feet and hands, and enter into a mind bending dance of violence with a local imp or level 3 bear cub - all sharp corners and snouts.
All the while, and still today, Hogar the Barbarian, now a formless heap of faces and eyes, repeats himself every 5 minutes, triggered by the proximity to a player's avatar:
"Hey - yeah you - I've got a quest for you."
******
##### For More Legends From The Multiverse
##### r/LFTM
| 2018-04-06T07:54:02 | 2018-04-06T07:48:14 | 1,021 | 106 |
[WP] Two werewolves fall madly in love, but only during the full moon. When they’re human, they can’t stand each other. | Heather is madly annoying.
Her voice is deafening ... destroying
my ears, no longer able to hear
I sign to her she's the one person I fear.
For she and I turn to wild beasts.
Every full moon, we turn to each other and feast
Not on people, or prey or food.
We become wild animals stuck to each other, glued.
Biting, lusting and rubbin,
We transform back, feeling awful, because we're cousins. | He'd only gone out for a simple jog. It was a nice night, cool and quiet. After a rather hectic day at the company, he was desperate to relax himself. Dannan forgot about the full moon. Hidden behind the clouds, out of his sight, he jogged along the empty sidewalk, ear buds snug in his ears as he went. Rounding the corner, he found himself coming to a halt. His heart beat was suddenly very, very noticeably loud. Overhead, the cloud drifted on their merry way, revealing the moon so full and big in all its glory.
The doors of the nearby convenience store suddenly opened and someone walked out. Dannan recognized them, it was his coworker Ensil. His chest suddenly felt tight, the beating of his heartbeat going faster and faster until he was positive it would burst. Ensil stopped as well. He looked Dannan's way and the pair locked eyes. Any thoughts that Dannan had at the moment became foggy mush. He slowly approached Ensil who eyed him, carefully, sensually.
"Hey, " he said, not breaking eye contact.
"Hey. Out for a run?"
"Yeah. Just...felt like I needed it tonight. What about you?"
"Bought some drinks." Ensil smiled Dannan's way. "You wouldn't want to come by, would you?"
Dannan grinned wolfishly. "Do you mind?"
"Not in the slightest."
On those nights where the moon is full and bright, a love that shouldn't exist burns hard inside of Dannan and Ensil. Any other day, the pair are like water and oil, completely unmixable. They bicker back and forth, are irritated in one another's presence and overall hate each other's guts. But the full moon changes that entirely. Several months had passed since they first fell in love and ever since then they've tried their hardest to avoid each other on those cursed nights. Of course, it never works. | 2018-05-23T01:28:51 | 2018-05-22T19:34:35 | 56 | 14 |
[WP] Two werewolves fall madly in love, but only during the full moon. When they’re human, they can’t stand each other. | He wasn't in love, he was in lust. I call him "he" because I can't control a single goddamn thing he does. I can make it impossible for him to roam freely. The industrial strength cage I too easily found on Amazon lends me that claim. But other than that. I can't control him. So when I got a DM from Nichole that she had fun the other night and want's to see me again. I realize that he's only let me think I've found a solution. He goes out and murders, maims and fucks his way back to a cage that he has learned how to pick the lock of and how to slink back into it without raising suspicion. During the daylight I think about killing Nichole. She's only a cubicle away, but I'd definitely go to jail for doing that. I think about killing her during the hour before our transformations, but every so often I hear the howling of our brood. She's raising them in the woods by night. She's embraced her nature. She's raising something I will love by instinct to kill me when I get too old to keep up. I can't kill my other, I can't kill myself and I can't kill the girl. I'll keep resisting. I'll try to outsmart "him" by modifying the cage. But I know it's a matter of time before I'm running free and feasting on a deer before I hear a twig snap behind me, a roar that sounds like my own and the last thought I'll have is hoping skinny Brad will be able to cover my fucking shift. | The full moon reflected in the deer's eye as it danced spritely through the woods. I lay undetected under the brush, awaiting the moment I could taste its blood. The scent filled my nostrils, and my mouth watered in anticipation. But there was another scent. Something that awakened a different kind of anticipation.
The deer hesitated, and I chose this moment to strike. But I was a moment too late. As I started from my cover, another wolf leapt from the opposite side of the clearing and tackled the deer to the ground. Her jaws clamped around its neck, severing its arteries and ligaments for a quick, clean kill. The she-wolf gazed up at me, and snarled, blood dripping from her jowls.
Looking back, I am disturbed to report I was severely aroused by this, especially when considering the bitch's true identity (and I mean that in both senses of the word). But in that moment, I did not hesitate to patter towards her and expose my throat in an act of supplication. Her snarl faded, and the blood of the deer no longer enticed me as the scent of her pheromones overwhelmed me. She was in heat, and I was ready to go.
I don't feel the need to dive into specifics here, but it was a night I'll never forget. As a werewolf, I'm used to the human parts of my brain going on auto-pilot as the purely id-driven wolf takes over. I have no sexual interest in wolves when I'm a human. I'm not even a closeted furry. But that experience with the she-wolf in the forest was perhaps the pinnacle of my sexual history.
I didn't realize at the time, she was also a werewolf. We made love (if wolves have a concept of love) through most of the night, intermittently snacking on the kill she had so generously provided, and howling at the moon when it struck our fancy. Having another voice added to mine, gave me peace in a subconscious part of my human mind that hadn't yet adjusted to this new form of life. I felt at home.
I was used to waking up naked in the forest, but always alone. I was lying on my side, with my arm around the last woman I could have expected. My first thought was panic, at her possible discovery of my condition, before realizing she obviously suffered the same condition.
But enough build-up. When I realized who I was lying with, I was full of revulsion to discover Shelley. Shelley was a woman from my old job at the mail room. My horrible horrible boss. She wore high heels to feel powerful, and turned every slight into a catastrophe. She fired me after I was late the morning after a full moon. She had also been late. A few months earlier, at a wild Christmas party, she bit me for attempting to take away her vodka cranberry, after she'd thrown her computer out the window. Come to think of it, that bite might have been important. | 2018-05-23T01:03:36 | 2018-05-22T20:37:45 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] The concept of shoot to kill is foreign to other galactic species. Only humans condition their warriors to kill in the most efficient and cold methods possible. When faced with a war they can not win a race does the unthinkable, they set the humans loose. | For ten years the war has been destroying our planet. When the first krogen ships landed near the imperial town we were curious about their intentions. We were not prepared for any hostility. Our society overcame violence and war thousands of years ago. When they aimed their electric guns at us we were petrified. They shocked us, they hit us, those who tried to fight back were heavily injured by their blades. Every single citizen of the imperial town was enslaved in the first week. Even the royal family.
More and more slave ships came. More and more cities fell. We had no army, no one knew how to fight. It took us two years to build a resistance. It was not formed by scientists, artists or philosophers, those people that we all looked up to. It was our fishermen that first fought back. In hindsight it seems logical, they were hunters, they had harpoons and were used to kill the monsters from the deep. No one else was used to spill blood on our planet. Our new leader is Kalman the fisher, Kalman the warrior, Kalman the king.
———
It is the 10th anniversary of the assault. The Sunwind, the last of our space ships has returned from exploration im search for help in our fight and Kalman is meeting with Namar, the enemy war-chief on his vessel to discuss the terms of our surrender. At least that‘s what the Krogen think. But Kalman has a message for them that they are not prepared for and we do not expect him back alive.
———
„Kalman, finally we meet.“ The war chief felt victorious, now that the enemy had gone into the trap. The resistance would lose it‘s head today. The total victory was near.
„Namar. You don‘t think I‘m stupid enough not to know that I will die today?“
Namar‘s movements slowed down, almost stopped, a sign of hesitation.
„Interesting. Keep talking. Why are you here then?“
„Your species has discovered, conquered and enslaved hundreds of planets,...“
„Thousands!“ Namar threw in.
„... you have heard of the human race?“
„Who has not heard of the forbidden system, of those maniac hairless monkeys playing with atoms and killing themselves. No one is allowed to go there until they have destroyed themselves. Why do you mention them?“
„We may lose our freedom and our planet, maybe today or in a year from now but your destiny will be worse.“
„What? What are you talking about? You have lost, you have nothing! You must be crazy! Speak! What is this nonsense?“
„Our ship Sunwind came home today.“
„We know. But it is defenseless as everything else on your weak planet. We have scanned every tak of it and you have nothing that is a thread to us.“
„It came home from its journey to the planet Earth.“
Namar’s movements became slower.
„On Earth we made friends with a warrior tribe and our scientists helped them to build a spaceship.“
Namar‘s eyes opened wide in disbelief.
„We showed them the way to your home planet. We told them of your slavery trade and your dictatorship. Believe me when I say they have weapons that you couldn‘t dream of. When their soldiers fight, they kill. They will leave a trail of blood, they will destroy your planet and your people and make it look like they did a good thing.“
Namar froze. „How?... Why?.... Why should I believe you? Why should they attack us? We are not their enemies!“
We told them about your home planet. We told them about your dirty oceans. We told them about your OIL as they call it. Believe me when I say: They will come for you.“
———
PS: My first short story in a foreign language. Sorry for any mistakes.
Edit: words | In the dim light of the strat-room, I stare at the now-blank display. I am aware of the increased rate of pumping in both of my hearts, as well as a significant spike in cortisol levels. I open my mouth to speak, then close it.
I look to Communicator Poelhi, who has been motionless since the video ended.
"You...had seen that before, Poelhi?"
His three yellow eyes - which had been fixed on the corner of the ceiling - rotate in their sockets to focus on me. "Just the beginning, Furkaq. I called you as soon as I realized...but I had no idea it would be..."
He trails off, and I nod. We are silent for a time. Unbidden, images of what we have just seen come back to my visual memory. I have so many questions about the video.
The quality of the image was poor, and it was clearly recorded on a handheld device - during some parts it was so shaky it was impossible to tell what was happening. In a way, that made it worse, as it was up to your imagination to fill in the blanks.
The beginning had depicted a gathering of Bemmels in a field - which immediately made it clear what system the video came from, if not which planet. Their large bodies were shown in seated positions on the ground chanting, celebrating one of their holidays. Some had begun to move away from the group, lumbering over to the nearby tables. Given what was about to happen, it was especially striking how calm - how *pleasant* - everything seemed. And then...
I turn to Poelhi. "What crime could they possibly have been guilty of that would have warranted that response?"
Poelhi does not respond, nor do I expect him to. The reality is, surely, simpler than we would like it to be. That there is no love lost between the Gurvan and the Bemmels is no secret. But the Galactic Council had made it quite clear what the consequences would be if the skirmishes that had been erupting of late were not put to rest.
"And how? *How* did the Gurvans even get them, to begin with? Where were they being kept?"
Just over a minute into the video, a transport appears nearby, and Gurvan get out to open the rear hatch. It is evident that the creatures that come out are human, but their behavior was so different from what we had observed, what was in the files about them.
None of the orderliness we had observed during the most recent C-521 incident was seen. The humans were wild, frenzied - untamed animals. Their weaponry was likewise extremely primitive, but lethally effective all the same. Blades, bludgeons, it did not matter - the result was the same for the Bemmels. Nor did the humans discriminate between old and young. More than once did they kill parents in front of children, or the other way around, and pause to observe the reactions.
There were so many questions that needed answering. How many humans did the Gurvan have? And what else were they planning to do with them?
I make eye contact with Poelhi. "Do you know of *anyone* on the GC who has seen this?"
"No."
I stare down at the black floor. "Something must be done. This in and of itself is terrible, and needs addressing, but it occurs to me that if the humans in C-521 discover that some of their number have been taken and are being imprisoned and used like this..."
"How would they find out?"
I look back to Poelhi, staring at him in silence before responding. "Communicator, it is clear from the ending of that video that the life-form recording it was slaughtered just as much as the rest of them. And yet, here you sit, having come across the video in the GC archives. Don't tell me it was uploaded by one of the survivors, since it's clear there weren't any."
"But still...other Bemmels, who came across the scene after it was over, perhaps?"
Any Gurvan involved in what just happened will be executed if they are discovered. It seems to me, therefore, that they would have taken extreme precautions about allowing such recordings to be found if they did not want to be discovered. Since we - and perhaps others - have now seen the video, one must ask: why? If they did not prevent its dissemination, it seems they may have abetted it...and the possibilities of what happens from there..."
I rise from my seat, and Communicator Poelhi does the same. Insane as it seems, I fear at some point I will have to bring this to the attention of the full Galactic Council. And I still need to figure out what to do regarding the Teklin I met earlier. But first...
"Are you available, Communicator, to come with me on an information-gathering mission?"
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds
*This response builds on a story I have worked on previously (based on a different prompt response). I tried to make it stand on its own but anyone interested in some back story can find the first two parts [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/7yxiv0/wp_every_planet_in_the_universe_is_inhabited_by/).* | 2018-07-20T19:17:28 | 2018-07-20T15:17:04 | 211 | 71 |
[WP] They killed his hound, and stolen his steed. The rogue knight returns from retirement to teach them a lesson. He was known as the man you call to kill the shadow itself, and he was known as John, the Wicked. | Aurelius the carriage-maker looked up from his work, not surprised to see the herald of House Taras standing in the doorway.
"A message from Lord Taras, Master Aurelius," said the herald. "He greets thee in the name of the king and our Lord, and in recognition of your long service to his house and his family, he asks thee to answer his question: Did'st thou strike his son, the young Joseph?"
"Greetings to you and to Lord Taras," responded Aurelius, setting down his tools and standing politely. He had known Taras would send a messenger, and while he was not sure his response to Joseph's impudence had been measured, he believed Taras would be understanding. He continued.
"The Lord keep your master and his family, and bless his House and his harvests. Please let the Lord Taras know that yes, I, Master Aurelius, did strike young Joseph. While I regret the action, I beg Lord Taras to know that I only took this action upon learning that Joseph did kill a hound and steal a destrier belonging to Ser John the Wicked."
The herald bowed, and Aurelius bowed in turn. The herald spun on his heel and left at speed. Aurelius took up his tools and continued his work.
Early the next morning, the herald appeared at Aurelius's door again as the master was stoking his forge and honing his plane.
"A message from Lord Taras, Master Aurelius," said the herald. "The Lord Taras has heard thy response and considered it, and has bid me reply thusly: 'Oh.'" | Dear diary, 12th October 2932.
They awoke the wicked. he who kills like he breathes.... if he did.
back in the 2500's, cybernetic wars led to the creation of the knights, and the legend says he's one of them.
Legend also says he wiped an entire battleship with a single pen, and his left thumb.
Word says he has no emotions, nor a face.
&#x200B;
...And that man is my neighbour. he lives upstairs. lovely old dude, he pays me to clean his flat.
*Well, if you consider dumping human limbs in an acid drum* ***cleaning***\*,\* that is.
It all changed when the thugs attacked, yesterday night.
First they came in quiet and one of them held me at gunpoint, then they went upstairs.
...
&#x200B;
Now, there's a hole between his kitchen and my bathroom. a grenade first opened the way, then his fist went through my ceiling. with a head attached to it. he apologized profusely and handed me over 50G's "to help him out and for the damage"
&#x200B;
Jeez. i believe they went in with like 20 people. it was over in 15 seconds flat.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
\*BLAOOOOM\* (that's the door, his door)
BRRRRT TATATATATATA!!! PAW!! POW! (the thugs start hosing out)
Whiiiirrrr...THUD! BAOM! SBAF! THUNK!! KER-POW! THUNK! CRUNCH!! SPRASH! (he woops their asses with their arms (that's what i could hear))
BLAAAAAAOOOOOM! (grenade goes off)
SCRUNCH! (he finishes the fight with the hand in the face thing)
One of them escaped with his hovercar, an antique, original, stallion sprint. guess my van wasnt good enough.
he had a jack russel, poor thing took a chunk of the door in the face when they blew it in.
he asked me to help him bury it first of all. with the house sprayed in blood and gore.
Anyhow.
I've learnt a ton of shit in like 16 hours.
How crooked the city is.... how fast money can erase things.. and how quick a cyborg can go downstairs and shove his fist though an armed man who was about to kill me.
You know, I've been unable to identify if the chunks were male or female, it was that bad.
Also I've learnt that cyber-knights are a thing. it's written on them. like "KNIGHT SERIES 0015 - property of the US ARMY"
i gotta find what is this mysterious corporation though. US ARMY? Isn't the term army patented by Gazorpazorp Inc?
He just left the condo, by the look of his gear, he's gonna nuke something till it dies to death. | 2018-09-05T06:20:32 | 2018-09-05T06:10:01 | 43 | 13 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | *No.* Death thought. *It couldn't be.*
Death reached below the grand wooden table, hastily pulling out the dust covered hourglass. Questions flooded its mind. *How? When? Who?*
Carefully, Death set the hourglass sideways on its table, like the way it found it, the only one among the seven billion or so hourglasses in Death's office in such position. Death sank slowly into its black leather chair, its hollow eye sockets fixed on the hourglass.
No one escapes Death. That was what everyone said. Looking at the construct on the table, someone just did. Not knowing when or why bothered Death greatly.
When each human is born, an hourglass appears in Death's office. While each hourglass looked the same, the amount of sand inside them was not. The amount of sand signalled the lifespan of the owner. When the sand stops flowing, Death is summoned. The hourglass disappears once Death finishes its job.
Since time immemorial, Death has done its job without lapses. It does not question why. Death has always accepted its role. Looking at the stopped sand caused Death to question for the first time.
*Who is this human who escaped death?*
*How did the hourglass end up at the bottom of the table?*
*What should Death do?*
Death considered its options. It could report the lapse to its master. After all, Death is only a servant of a higher being. At least, that was what Death remembered. The memory was vague and hazy. It has been doing its job for eons alone without the need to contact the master. Never had there been any mistakes or incidents worth mentioning. The sideway hourglass was first.
Death shook its head. It cast a look at the door at the end of its office, rising thousands of meters above. The door to its master. Death could not recall the last time the door was used. Death preferred for things to stay that way. Death wanted to go back to its routine.
A bony hand reached from the flowing black robe, the white fingers wrapped themselves around the hourglass. Death let out a sigh, muttered an apology in its mind for the human who was about to lose his/her immortality, and flipped the hourglass upright.
The sand did not fall. They stayed in their position.
*What?*
Death was annoyed. It took the hourglass with both its hands and shook it. It turned the hourglass upside down several times. Still, the sand did not flow, while the sand in billions of others continued to fall.
*Who is this human entitled to immortality?*
Death let out a frustrated grunt. It wanted to throw the hourglass at the wall. How can Death be defied? It decided that it needed to seek out its master. Death grabbed the defective hourglass and started the long march towards the giant door. It needed an answer.
Just when it was about to leave its desk, however, a voice shook Death's office. Death recognised it instantly. The voice of the master.
**DON'T BOTHER.** The voice commanded.
**THE HOURGLASS IS YOURS.**
-------
*/r/dori_tales* | The hourglass had rolled to its side, its content perfectly balanced on both sides, a potential eternity in the shape of a few still grains of sand.
Death rolled it between his fingers, the dry, bleached bones clicking against dusty, bubbly glass. The sand inside was a dark, coarse thing, tinged with the black of volcanic ashes and the red of granit dust, clumped by time. Next to it, vivid contrast, is the crystalline emptiness of Death own hourglass.
That thing was Ancient, even for Death, and it's with something akin to reverence that he laid it on his desk, carefully maintaining its balance on the side. It's so old than the name carved on the bronze plaque has disappeared under the dust. Never had such a thing happened before to him, not in this unlife nor in any others, for Death had already lived many existences and would carry on living many others through worlds and time, He the Reaper that existed in the cusp of eternity.
Again the tapping of bones against glass and a sound that could have been a sigh. Who could it be, and what would have become of them ? Someone that had lived for so long, nearly as long as himself, someone that had experienced everything life had to offer but never had to pay the price of mortality for it. Would he find a king, his will unyielding and forged through millenias of ruling, or a beggar, crazed by an unending existence of loss and misery ?
Since the beginning the pact had been simple. They would be born and live, wax and wane out of existence and always Death would be there at the end, but this time there had not been any end, at least so far. With a shrug, Death went on to collect what he was owed.
&#x200B;
Grass under his heels and the heavy buzzing of bees welcoming him. The garden was lush with life, teeming with the sounds and the exuberancy of Nature nurtured. A work unending but a reward in itself, as Death took in the trees basking in the sun, the almost cloying scent of flowers still damp from some previous rain, and the small silhouette in the clearing, waiting near a table.
&#x200B;
" I had been waiting for so long, I thought it would never happen but you are here, finally. Tell me, do we have time for tea ?"
&#x200B;
The man pulls out a chair and Death sits. It's not uncommon to have people try to negociate with him, to coax him into relenting but the warm smile is sincere, devoid of any duplicity. Death feels welcome here, in this haven of peace and life and so he sits and contemplate his duty as the man starts to fuss around them.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
The face is ageless but the hands aren't, worn and twisted by work but still strong as the man deftly pours tea in mismatched cups. A bee, more curious than others land near a pot filled with honey and he gently shoos it away, using a dollop of the sweet nectar to distract it.
Once done the man sits, facing Death, lifting his cup in wordless cheer among the garden. Together they drink in silence, the man peaceful in front of his Death. Then they talk, for hours, for ages, sky and sun and stars dancing among them, and Death revels in this unusual sensation, of having someone made so similar to him by a mere twist of Fate. In this place, made almost perfect in its natural beauty where time has all but lost its sense Death takes a decision.
&#x200B;
" I have only come for tea, and a chat. You know how eternity can be long sometimes."
Wordlessly the man nods
" But I will come back in your garden, if you allow it ?"
&#x200B;
" Of course, my friend, you will always be welcome."
&#x200B;
On top of Death desk sits a dusty hourglass, laying on its side, untouched. The name on the plaque has long disappeared but if one day someone was to ask whose it is, Death would only answer
&#x200B;
" A Friend."
&#x200B;
I hope I didn't make too many mistakes as english isn't my first langage. Thanks for reading !
Edit: First of all, thank you for the Gold, kind Redditor !
Second, I edited a few typos that were pointed out to me, so than you again | 2018-10-03T06:52:49 | 2018-10-03T06:28:38 | 2,861 | 1,464 |
[WP] According to US Navy tradition, submarines that have not been confirmed to be destroyed, are still on patrol. Since WWII, there have been 52 submarines that haven’t yet returned to port, yet to report in, nor have been confirmed to be destroyed. You are one of those, on the eternal patrol. | *O we come from a land that is fair and free,*
*Sailed across every foreign sea,*
*Beat every enemy far and wide,*
*Now they've gone and went to hide!*
*We are the men of the USS!*
*Men of the Scorpion, we're the best!*
*We guard the land from all enemies.*
*For that's our oath when we sail the seas.*
*We cut!*
*WE CUT!*
*We roll them down into a rut!*
*We shoot!*
*WE SHOOT!*
*We crush them down beneath our boot!*
*We are the men of the USS!*
*Men of the Scorpion, we're the best!*
*Long and far that we have sailed,*
*We must pay for we have failed.*
*Now we're cursed to see no shore,*
*No lady, maiden or whore!*
*I tell my son that I'll come home,*
*But the sea is where I'm meant to roam.*
*We feel no need to eat or rest,*
*For we are the men of the USS!*
*We fight to keep our land so free,*
*Forever doomed to sail this sea...*
| The maelstrom yanked our submarine far deeper than it was ever supposed to go, but didn’t destroy it. Looking back, I wish it had. Living a long life’s terrible when you’re nothing more than food.
I sit in my quarters, looking at pictures of my crew. Back then, before this happened, we were just boys who thought they were men. All these pictures have red Xs through them except mine and Mikey’s because they're all dead. She…she’s taken them all.
Know what I miss most? Scotch. It burns your throat, but in a good way. They said back then, I had a drinking problem. I never noticed. Apparently many members of my crew blamed me for this, assumed I was drunk and wrongly navigated us. But the whirpool…it just appeared, and by the time I’d noticed, there was nothing we could do.
We’re stuck between two rocks, unable to move. It only took her two days to slide her greasy fingers through the entrance and pluck one of us free. We barely know what she looks like, with some members *maybe* catching a glimpse of her face, claiming its fairly feminine. I've only seen her arm reach out of the darkness and that was more than enough. Every year she takes one of us. We’re nothing more than her food, and while we haven’t eaten in decades, we’re still alive. I don’t know how, but I suspect it’s her doing.
The clock strikes twelve. It’s New Years, and all across the world people are jumping up and down, cheering their hearts out and making vows to better themselves. Meanwhile I’m sitting here, holding my breath, hoping I don’t hear Mikey’s screams.
When I do, I sigh.
She took him.
I’m officially the last one left.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. My heart’s trying to break out my chest. Part of me wants to just open the hatch and swim until I pass out but others have attempted that, and she just put them back here. I’ve tried getting the sub to move, tried sending out signals—but she’s kept us firmly held down, and at this point, I’m convinced there’s only one escape.
Reaching into my desk, I pull out my pistol.
It’s either this or being devoured alive.
I’m sorry my crew. I have failed you.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-17T08:02:31 | 2018-10-17T07:08:04 | 86 | 52 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | *Well that was a bust...*
**C'mon. I know you really liked her.**
*I mean I did but...I guess she didn't feel the same. Seems like that's been happening a lot lately.*
**You'll find someone. I know your heart. You're too good to be single forever.**
*Yeah, okay. No offense but I don't know how much that's worth coming from you.*
**Thanks, dickhead. It's not like I don't know every single thing about you that there is to know.**
*I mean, of course you do. You're just a-*
**Hey! There's that bakery you love! I think you deserve a cookie.**
*No way. What if she didn't like me 'cos I'm too fat?*
**Don't be stupid. Go get one! For me.**
*Fine. But I'm working out when I get home.*
He held the door open for the woman behind him. She thanked him and made her way inside.
**I'm excited for this cookie.**
*Me too. Which one should I get?*
"Oatmeal raisin, please."
**Oatmeal raisin, please.**
He chuckled a bit. *Jinx!*
**It doesn't count if she said it.**
*Well she can't hear you.*
**Which is why it doesn't count.**
He ordered his cookie and sat down, reflecting on his date. He heard her thoughts too but after all this time, it was easy to tune them out. Millions of thoughts a minute ran through his head. Hers and his. He sensed nervous ones racing through their minds.
*You okay there?*
**Finally.**
"Finally."
*Hm?*
**Turn around.**
"Turn around."
He turned around and came face to face with the woman who had ordered before him.
"Sorry?"
Tears welled in her eyes.
**I finally found you.**
"I finally found you."
His confusion turned into realization. His eyes widened, "Do you...do you mean?"
**March 4th, 1982. Blue. Mother's name Maria. First dog, Boston. Biggest fear, being alone.**
"March 4th, 1982. Blue. Mother's name Maria. First dog, Boston. Biggest fear, being alone."
*Oh...my god.*
**Last thing you masturb...**
"Last thing you masturb..."
"Hey!!!! I...I get it."
She laughed out loud and held her face in her hands, as if she still could not believe he was right before her.
*I can't believe you're real.*
They looked at each other until he gulped.
*Well please...sit down.* | I've never believed in the concept of a soul-mate. Yet, despite all my beliefs and ideals, there she stood. The living proof that all I've believed up until now has been a farce. Part of me was relieved, the other, terrified. What could this mean?
"H-hey..." I muttered between quivering lips.
"This must be... pretty bizarre for you..." she said apologetically.
I could feel my knees shaking. All this time, the whispers inside my head were not made by my own subconscious. Instead, they were made by the woman that stood in front of me. She wore glasses, had short black hair, and was on the short side when it came to height.
She invited me for some coffee. An offer that I literally, could not refuse. We sat in silence. I awkwardly took sips of my capuccino whilst she merely stared at me clutching her cup in her hands.
"Y'know I- I always knew you were real..." she said, finally breaking the ice.
"How is that even possible...?" I ask, my hands shaking.
She merely shrugged.
"The voice... it was just so real..." she said. "I never told anyone what I could hear... I even thought I was insane at one point but... your voice was just so clear in my head... I just knew it couldn't be a hallucination."
"Well... I told my parents about it..." I said. "They immediately took me to a psychiatrist and diagnosed me with Schizophrenia... so I guess I'm glad that didn't happen to you..."
She looked down at her cup apologetically. I couldn't see her expression, but I could tell tears were welling up in her eyes.
"Hey... why are you crying?" I asked. "Is it something I said?"
She looked up at me. Instead of a sad expression, what greeted me was the most beautiful smile, along with tears running down her ivory skin.
"I'm just..." she sobbed. "I'm just so glad you're real..."
There was no longer an effort to control herself. Tears flowed down her eyes, and her sobs drowned out the chatter of the coffee shop. I didn't know what to say; what *could* one say in a situation like this?
Instead of offering some kind words, I sat next to her and took her in my arms. She buried her face in my chest and continued to cry.
Part of me wanted to break down crying too. All of my life I've been told I'm insane but... she was proof that I wasn't.
-
It had been two weeks since the encounter. The two of us walked down the street at high hours of the night, our hands held together.
Ever since that morning at the coffee shop, it was impossible for the two of us to be apart for a long period of time. We essentially went out every single day after work. I'd always drop her off at her apartment - or she spent the night in mine. Bottom line is, we were now inseparable.
"Say... don't you think it's strange?" I ask
She looked at me confused.
"Well... we've just met each other but, technically been together since birth..." I say. "It's like... we're soul mates."
She gasped as a pink tint rose to her cheeks.
"I mean... the universe *literally* conspired for the two of us to be together..." I say. "and now that we are it just... feels right."
After that remark, the two of us remained quiet for the rest of the way until we finally reached her apartment complex.
"Say... I'll see you again tomorrow?" I ask.
She nodded. Then got on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on my lips.
She dashed inside her building and waved back one last time.
I turned around and began walking home. That's when felt it. There it was again... that familiar little voice I've been hearing all my life. It sounded distant and quiet, but I could still make up the words.
"I love you..." the voice muttered. The voice then faded away. | 2019-09-14T13:20:46 | 2019-09-14T11:39:52 | 45 | 30 |
[WP] We were warned when we hired our first human crew member that they would pack bond with almost anything. We didn't listen, and now have an apex predator somewhere in the ship, that the human won't stop calling Kitty. | "I was just doing my job, it's not like I liked the experiments. I didn't particularly care enough to dislike them either, I guess I would say I'm neutral on the matter.
The creatures weren't sentient after all, just huge animals we were studying from planet xerto-R41. I can pinpoint the moment it all went wrong, one of the pregnant females, a huge, lithe, scaled, creature, died when she was unable to pass her newly matured eggs. They always passed two, but her first egg was unfertilized and much too large to pass. Emergency surgery on the expired female produced the second, and viable, egg.
Dr. Macy, our interstellar zoologist from the exchange program with Earth, took the egg home to finish the last day or so of incubation. I told him it wasn't necessary, that we had more specimens available and that it would be extremely difficult to replicate the females pouch and drops of nutritional liquid that she would have leaked to be absorbed through the hatchling's skin.
Dr. Macy was a brilliant man, but a soft one, he took the egg to his family's living quarters and incubated it. He prepared an artificial pouch with refillable nutrient dispensers. After 36 hours, Dr.Macy arrived home to his wife and 6 year old daughters cuddling the newly hatched creature inside it's artificial pouch, where the male juvenile would remain for the next 6 months, at which point, he would be old and large enough to wean on to the meat based diet of the species. Dr. Macy allowed his daughters to name the creature "Kitty", after a common, though completely unrelated pet on their home planet.
At 11 months of age for the creature, Dr.Macy's stay with our facility was over, and he and his family returned to their home planet after returning their creature to the lab.
I observed higher intelligence in the creature as well as signs of depression and asked our new exchange zoologist, Dr.Lewinski, to perform a series of experiments to compare the results with that of a creature cared for by it's mother. Dr.Lewinski confirmed my observations and concluded that the creature responded positively with humans and had a basic understanding of the English language, including it's given name of "Kitty". He also could recognize the Macy's on video and photographs, and would become agitated in an attempt to find their scent.
A mere month after the Macy's left the facility, the creature escaped from it's enclosure by force, ripped through three sets of security doors, and took up residence in the Macy's abandoned living quarters, he was last observed curling on the play rug in the children's room with a worn blanket that he appeared to be defending aggressively from anyone that isn't human.
It took Dr. Lewinsky's offering sedative laced meat to the creature to calm it enough to be moved back to another enclosure, where it broke free 3 additional times in the next week. Dr. Lewinsky has forbidden the neutralization of the creature under threat of ruining political relations between our planets by way of his brother, President Lewinsky. Dr. Lewinsky is a brilliant but soft man as well and responded to the creature's depression and attachment to human scent in a less that observational way.
That is why you are receiving this package at the Smithsonian institute for Interstellar Animal Studies, Dr. Barret, I find that we are quickly running out of funds to repair the damage it is inflicting on my ship, I formally relinquish custody of this creature to Dr. Macy and your facility, well wishes, Captain Grehori."
Dr. Macy looked up from the video file to smile at his 7 year old daughters curled on the carpet with the 200lb reptilian feline. "Kitty's home."
.
.
.
.
.
Edit- thank you so much everyone! I hardly ever write and have never had one of my stories upvoted this much! I'm truly flattered! | Edit: Thank you for the silver, whomever that was! :D
“Come on, guys! Where’d everyone go?” The human’s voice on the coms sounded bemused. It always sounded that way whenever he didn’t understand something about the other races on board the Arq, which honestly was quite often. Humanity was still far too new in the Galactic Consciousness to understand some of the finer nuances that were required for proper protocol when dealing with all the varied species across the universes, but still, here we were.
I could have cursed Drak and his entire clanline for having had the bright idea of bringing this human aboard. This was supposed to have been a simple transport mission. Now, granted, transporting live animals from planets of Apex-Predator qualities higher than six did usually require some finesse, finesse that our little rag-tag band of collected misfits didn’t tend to have. That’s where the human was supposed to have filled in the gap, since humans were rumored to be good at this “animal bond” thing.
He’d turned out, of course, to be more than just ‘good’ at bonding with the blasted things. That stupid human had bonded with every single one of the creatures in their cages, feeding them scraps of food and cooing and making these really weird noises to them every time he was near them. The creatures would nearly tear themselves out of their cages, trying to get to him just to get something the human called “scritches.” It was disgusting. I huddled under my sleeping nook and tried to make myself even smaller than I was, trying to ignore the sounds coming through my comm.
“Guys?” No one answered him. We were all afraid to. Well, those of us still alive anyway. We’d all seen what happened to Drak when the Alarcat got out of its cage. No one liked Drak when it came down to it, but we also hadn’t wanted to see him eaten alive by a six-legged beast from Legus Prime! And now that damn thing was loose on the ship, and all of us were huddled in locked rooms throughout the ship, waiting to die.
All of us, that is, but one stupid human. I still don’t remember what his name was. Alor? Alan? Alien? He’d told me but I wasn’t listening, I’d just been trying my best to not get whatever it was that he had all over me. I didn’t want him to touch me, get near me, nothing. I was perfectly fine with a human aboard the ship, as long as the human wasn’t anywhere near ME. I hated that human.
And it was the human who was walking around, making some sort of strange clicking noise with his throat, and calling out “Kitty, kitty!” while looking for the Alarcat. He was going to die. I just knew it. Any time now, that Alarcat was going to find him, and then…
There was a roar that shook the entire ship, and I knew… the hunt was nearly over. The Alarcat had found its prey. I unconsciously leaned forward, straining to hear through my comm as the scene unfolded through my earpiece. I heard the human go, “Ah, there you are!” I could almost feel the impact as the Alarcat screamed its warcry and pounced…
Then silence. I nodded grimly. The human was dead. He had to be. The Alarcat must be feasting on the human’s corpse right now. Maybe we could use this time to reach the escape pods… I blinked. A very odd noise had just started coming out of my coms. I tapped on my ear piece and strained, trying to hear it better.
It increased in intensity, a low rumble that increased and decreased in rhythm. Almost like breathing? And then I heard the human. “Aw, the big kitty likes that, doesn’t he? Oh, doesn’t he! Yeah, he does, I can hear you purring! Yes, I can!”
I stared at my door in dumbfounded amazement as the human said over the coms, “Hey, guys? I found the cat! What do you want me to do with it?”
No one responded for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I heard the captain speak. I’d never, in my six hundred years upon this ship, ever heard her sound flabbergasted. Today? Today, she was flabbergasted. “Um… Can you… uh… Can you get kitty to go back into its cage?”
“Yeah, I can do that. Come on kitty. Let’s get you back in your cage. Come on, up you go.” There were more rumbling sounds. “Oh, come on, you big lush. Ok, one more tummy rub, then we’ll go, ok?
I swear to F’thal the damn creature chirped at the human. As one, the rest of the crew waited until the human came across the coms again with “Ok, its back in its cage. Y’all can come out of hiding now, you big babies.”
So yeah. I understand why we need a human on the ship now. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, but I understand. They can bond with anything. Because they’re frickin’ CRAZY. | 2019-11-21T07:06:02 | 2019-11-21T06:30:47 | 2,512 | 1,148 |
[WP] As you die, you wake up in a fiery place. You quickly realize you're in hell. You ask the next demon why you are there, as you lived a very good life. "You're not being punished," he says. "You are the punishment." | Simple. I'm given a good life in hell. I have everything I could ever want: my loving husband, my beautiful children, all my favorite hobbies, and not a care in the world. Hell takes care of everything for me, there's no economy or job to worry about. Just me and my favorite people in the world spending eternity loving and encouraging each other.
My dumb fuck ex who wanted to manipulate me into staying with him, while emotionally abusing me, gaslighting me, cheating on me, and telling me I was worthless and he was the only person who would ever love me, is forced to watch from a distance as I live the happiest life he never wanted me to have, while demons fuck him in the ass trying to convince him to enjoy it like he did to me. | The first sentence, is meant to be read with a 1940's American radio announcer voice, while Mr. Satan will have no specified accent, as he is eternal
———————————————————————————————————
Gas fires lit the area, and he fell from a great height, almost as if he clipped through the crust of the earth and into hell. And as a large, thing came into sight, his emotions crumbled.
"I'm in hell," he thought, with just as much backing as that the sun is what it is. And as he hit the ground, he thought something: "this dude looks like that toy I saw in the trash that one time"
He was correct, this toy was a jabba the hut toy, one out of the movie Star Wars. This was Satan.
—————————————————————————————
"'tis a good day in hell," says the goose "as I have finally gotten my dream job, punishing humans for their sin"
"This was your dream-job?" Asked Mr. Satan
"Yep, and I'm gonna have so much fun," replied the goose "now, who am I punishing for their sins against God?"
"All the people who feared you, goose" replied Mr. Satan
"Why must I punish them?" Questioned the goose, "what did they do wrong, Mr. Satan?"
"I don't live by God's rules anymore but I still enforce them," replied Mr. Satan, "God's rule of "love thy neighbor""
"Ah, I suppose that makes sense." Said the goose.
"So, how are you going to punish them, goose?" Asked Mr. Satan.
"I will run at them, then I will rip their flip-flops apart" replied the goose, "then I will make them run, then run, then run some more. I will make them run untill they would die, but they will not, as we are in hell."
"That is a good and complicated plan, goose." Said Mr. Satan, "I would love to stay here and talk with you, goose, but I have some sinners I have to greet"
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Satan," thanked the goose, " now I must make humans pay for their sins" | 2020-07-10T10:31:17 | 2020-07-10T10:00:23 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | The light was blinding.
Four caped crusaders surrounded their nemesis, robed in a black trenchcoat, head bowed.
In a flash of movement, he jerked his arms out to the sides holding two pistols.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The pistols roared and the heroes fell to the ground.
"I have killed everyone!" The nemesis' baritone bellowed out into the darkness. "You should have known you couldn't capture me!"
Applause rippled through the air as the nemesis turned toward the blinding lights and bowed. A loud, slow, clapping came from the right as the understudy smirked and ambled across the stage toward the black robed man.
"Why? Why are you still here, get off the stage you nitwit, you're ruining the show."
"Oh, am I?" The understudy clapped his hands twice and the audience lights slowly rose on an empty hall, a video-camera on a tripod in the front row pointing toward the stage.
"Or am I, making the show?" He grinned maniacally and tilted his head to the side.
"What are you..." The actor looked around the stage, noticing the very real blood pouring from his fellow actors, then looked down toward his prop guns, "what have you... what have I... What have you done?!"
"Hahahaha!" The understudy barked, eyes wide, "understudy no more if you're in jail! Fame and fortune awaits! There's no one here to stop me now!" | It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Verundo, the hero was cut down by the Dark Lord, like a puppet with his string cut. His sword, Achilles, lie broken on the floor. He was still breathing, but he knew he wasn’t long to this world.
He slowly raised his head and tried to look for his team. He saw them strewn within the marble tiles of the great hall of the Dark Lord. All were dead including his love Dahlia, the Arch Priestess, who always smiled at him whenever he looks at her. Her face, an angelic beacon of hope, gave him strength and courage to face everything. But now, she looked at him with dead eyes, unmoving and unsmiling.
As Verundo, slowly tried to move and crawl towards Dahlia, hoping against hope, that she is still alive, The Dark Lord slowly stood up from his throne and said “So Hero, your party lies here broken and all dead - all except for one.”
Verundo, suddenly gasps and looked towards the door, as he saw Kartuka, the party’s cook. She looks aghast at the scene of carnage. He tried to shout for her to get away, but all he managed was a croak.
The Dark Lord moved towards Verundo and grasped his hair, bringing his face close to Verundo and demonically drawled. “ You are all weak, and the only thing that was strong was your delusion of grandeur to face me and win. Now, as you finally die, I will alow the last member of your party to join you on your new journey.”
He raised his other hand and out of it came a fireball going directly to Kartuka. It exploded as Verundo made his final breath.
The Dark Lord stood and laughed maniacally. But his laughed caught suddenly, as he spied Kartuka, still standing on the door. Kartuka sighed and walked towards the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord was shocked, and his felt slowly rising trepidation and fear, as he kept casting powerful magic and all for naught to the slowly walking Kartuka. As she came nearer to him, he kept stepping back until he reached his throne.
“Now you’ve done it.” Kartuka said to the Dark Lord, “I cared for these guys deeply, I never knew that this will happen.”
I didn’t care for you or this mission. You can be here for all I care and we can keep stopping your forces from ravaging this land. But Verundo decided to confront you once and for all. If you have been lenient and forgiving, sparing their lives. This will not be happening. You will not face your reckoning. You would not have faced all of the sufferings that I will be eagerly be dishing to you”
Kartuka, her face looking devilish and laughed maniacally. “Now that they’re gone, There’s No One Here to Stop Me Now.” | 2020-07-11T02:57:13 | 2020-07-11T02:31:48 | 463 | 79 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | Allison stood there looking at the Dark lord. She had just watched the last member of her group fall. Her face stony as she felt their heart beat for the last time.
"I have killed everyone, you can not capture me alone. Why are you still here?" He said. His tone a mixture of mocking and was that pity for her?
Her necklace fell to the floor, and a smile crossed her face. She felt her old power resurface as she looked at her new target.
"There's no one here to stop me."she said, reaching to her holster and taking out her weapon of choice. It looked like a tire iron and the Dark lord had seen her wield it before but never like this. Energy crackled out of it and her hands.
"See, they locked me down." She said taking a step forward."As long as they were alive I was at an eighth of my true power, and ferocity. Now they're all dead and nothing is going to hold me back.
Her words measured, her voice steady didn't do as much, but the look in her eyes made the dark lord step back. He was devious, but in her eyes he could see the violence, the maliciousness, and the fact that she was reveling in the possibility caused him to take a step back.
"I'm not going to capture you." She said as she leapt at him, her weapon swinging, an arc of power that he could feel was signalling his end. As the metal connected with him, the last words he heard from her were.
"Thank you for freeing me." | It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Verundo, the hero was cut down by the Dark Lord, like a puppet with his string cut. His sword, Achilles, lie broken on the floor. He was still breathing, but he knew he wasn’t long to this world.
He slowly raised his head and tried to look for his team. He saw them strewn within the marble tiles of the great hall of the Dark Lord. All were dead including his love Dahlia, the Arch Priestess, who always smiled at him whenever he looks at her. Her face, an angelic beacon of hope, gave him strength and courage to face everything. But now, she looked at him with dead eyes, unmoving and unsmiling.
As Verundo, slowly tried to move and crawl towards Dahlia, hoping against hope, that she is still alive, The Dark Lord slowly stood up from his throne and said “So Hero, your party lies here broken and all dead - all except for one.”
Verundo, suddenly gasps and looked towards the door, as he saw Kartuka, the party’s cook. She looks aghast at the scene of carnage. He tried to shout for her to get away, but all he managed was a croak.
The Dark Lord moved towards Verundo and grasped his hair, bringing his face close to Verundo and demonically drawled. “ You are all weak, and the only thing that was strong was your delusion of grandeur to face me and win. Now, as you finally die, I will alow the last member of your party to join you on your new journey.”
He raised his other hand and out of it came a fireball going directly to Kartuka. It exploded as Verundo made his final breath.
The Dark Lord stood and laughed maniacally. But his laughed caught suddenly, as he spied Kartuka, still standing on the door. Kartuka sighed and walked towards the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord was shocked, and his felt slowly rising trepidation and fear, as he kept casting powerful magic and all for naught to the slowly walking Kartuka. As she came nearer to him, he kept stepping back until he reached his throne.
“Now you’ve done it.” Kartuka said to the Dark Lord, “I cared for these guys deeply, I never knew that this will happen.”
I didn’t care for you or this mission. You can be here for all I care and we can keep stopping your forces from ravaging this land. But Verundo decided to confront you once and for all. If you have been lenient and forgiving, sparing their lives. This will not be happening. You will not face your reckoning. You would not have faced all of the sufferings that I will be eagerly be dishing to you”
Kartuka, her face looking devilish and laughed maniacally. “Now that they’re gone, There’s No One Here to Stop Me Now.” | 2020-07-11T04:09:17 | 2020-07-11T02:31:48 | 177 | 79 |
[WP] For a year and a half, and by sheer dumb luck, Jack has avoided the reapers scythe. Oblivious to the situation, Jack walks into his bedroom one night to find find death sitting on his bed, sobbing. | More often than not, getting drunk on tequila is a cry for help. Jack knew that. He didn’t even like
tequila, if he was honest. But it was 2-for-1 shots at the bar that night, and, just like the sorority girls wo-hooing by his side the whole freaking night with every shot as he was trying to drink alone in peace, he was a fan of getting drunk for cheap.
Not that money mattered anymore to him, but still.
Now it was four thirty in the morning, and he realized halfway up the stairs to his shitty one bedroom apartment that he had pissed himself sometime during the walk home.
*Or, shit, maybe it was at the bar? Did the sorority girls see it?*
After that much booze, life becomes a film montage – flashes of moments, compressed time to get the
movie plot going to next morning’s hangover.
Well, it didn’t matter. There wouldn’t be a next morning. Not this time. A warm feeling crept into his
stomach as he thought about the people he knew hearing about the suicide.
“Oh my God,” they would say, “I thought he was just a sad lonely loser. I guess there was more to him
than met the eye.” And they would sob and marvel at the unseen complexity of Jack Smith.
“Fucking Jack Smith,” he muttered, as he tried to stick the key in the keyhole. “Even my name sounds
like a placeholder for something better.”
He walked in, threw his jacket aside, burped and vomited a bit into his mouth, sighed.
And then it hit him: *This is it. This is when I kill myself.*
He had made the decision that afternoon. He would get fucking hammered again, then come home and
end it. End the loneliness, the subpar job, the long endless days looking at a computer screen with
nothing else going for him…
And now he had drank. He had returned home. There was nothing more to do. Nothing except –
He heard the sob.
He looked up. His bedroom door was ajar. More sobs. Jack frowned. He stepped up to
the bedroom door. When you’re this drunk nothing feels too absurd to be real, you’re always second-guessing yourself: “Is it weird that there is sobbing coming from my bedroom door? Maybe that’s
normal and I’m just too drunk to realize this.”
He pushed the door open and saw her. She looked to be in her late 20s, like him. Dark mascara
spidering down her face with the tears. She wore a black hoodie.
She held a scythe in hands.
And there was a horse next to her.
“Hi,” Jack said, blinking himself to focus.
She sniffed and looked up. “Hey…”
“Why do you have a horse?” he asked, because why not start there.
“I’m one of the four horsemen,” she said. “Well, horsewoman, but if I start picking gender equality
fights with bible language I won’t get much done the rest of the day,” she completed, cleaning her
tears.
“Huh,” Jack said. “What’s your name?”
She got up. “Death. I hear you wanted to kill yourself, so I’m here to take your soul. Come on, let’s get
this over with.”
She stopped in front of him, still sniffing. She cleaned her eyes with the back of her sleeve.
“Why are you crying?”
She eye-rolled. “It’s… complicated.”
“I have time.”
“Well. I hate my job. The other horsemen love it, they get off on it, I think. But to me it’s miserable."
"Okay," Jack said, nodding. "Hey, it's okay. I hate my job too."
"Oh yeah, also I have to bring forth the end of humanity in a couple of weeks, so there’s that too. Not looking forward to it. I like you guys.”
"Oh," Jack said. "I don't have to do *that*," he said. "I work in IT."
"God, that's even sadder," she said.
He blinked several times. He looked around. Then he looked at the horse. Then he looked at the
woman.
“I think your horse is thirsty,” he said. "There's a water filter in the kitchen."
And then he promptly passed out.
Death looked back. It’s true, Abomination was drinking from the toilet in the bathroom now.
She looked down at Jack. She raised her scythe.
Maybe it was the way this guy curled in fetal position on the floor. Maybe the way he asked her for her name – they never ask her name. Or that he asked why she was crying. Or the way he seemed genuinely concerned about Abomination before he passed out.
Whatever it was, Death did something she had never done before.
She lowered the scythe.
And then she went to the kitchen to make some coffee.
&nbsp;
/r/psycho_alpaca | “Hey babe, what’s wrong?” Jack said, poking his head in through a gap in the door.
He had heard her crying from down down the hall, the stilted, gasping sniffling of someone desperately trying to stop or conceal a force they knew they couldn’t. Katie was drawn up at the head of the bed, her back against the wall, a pillow held to her chest and the covers a mess by her feet.
“Is everything ok? Did something happen, is it your mom?” Her mother had been in the hospital as recently as last week after a fall. It had seemed like she was doing well enough but with tears like this-
“No, it’s not her.” Katie’s voice broke as she spoke, a sob turning to a choked laugh. “It’s me, it’s all just me.”
Taking a seat on the bed Jack drew the covers up and around her legs, tucking them in the way he knew she liked. It just made her cry all the harder.
“No, no, no please don’t do that!” She looked frightful, Jack thought. In the past year and a half they’d spent together he’d never even seen her cry before and now here she was just a few days after moving in with him. He hoped she wasn’t getting cold feet.
“Why not?” he asked. As Katie visibly struggled to answer he finished patting the covers just so and turned to sit beside her, shoulders touching, his large hand covering hers as it gripped white knuckled at the hem of her shirt. Something was very, very wrong.
She sat in tense silence a long time, quietly crying herself out until her head lay against his shoulder and her whole body seemed form fitted to his right arm and side.
“Ready to talk about it?” he said.
Katie took a long breath, wiping her nose roughly and shaking long, dark hair out of forest green eyes.
“I lied to you,” she finally said, her voice a bare whisper. “And I tried something far, far worse.”
A curious feeling rushed through Jack then, disbelief and fear in equal parts, but with a kernel of strange hope resting underneath it. Of course he had never wanted anything like this or like whatever she might say from here, but in all the time he had known Katie sharing like this had never been her strong suit. She could be fiery and passionate or insightful and brilliant by turns, she had always been ready to take a keen interest in his life, but her own inner world had been more mysterious than he’d wished.
All that raced through Jack at once as he said “So tell me. I love you, and whatever it is I think we can work it out.”
His world began to crash down as with her response. “My name isn’t Katie,” she said, “and I’ve tried to kill you before.”
The woman who should have been Katie but was not disentangled himself from his side, standing up from the bed. She looked down at him with an expression that was so clearly directed back inward, disgust and pain and self-hate warring across her features until Jack could hardly recognize her.
“Do you remember when we first met?” she him.
How could he forget? One moment a car had been racing towards him like a heat seeking missile, the next he was tumbling through the air as his bike hit something in the road, throwing him clear of his own death by less mere inches. The next thing he could remember Katie had been there, standing over him all soft eyes and shocked surprise like a cliche angel out of some bad movie. He nodded to her.
“I put the car there.”
“Huh?” Jack shook his head hard, what did that even mean? “No you didn’t, that was a drunk driver. And what the hell do you mean your name isn’t Katie? Baby are you ok?”
“Yes I did!” she said, her voice growing harsher with each word. “And you don’t know my name, you couldn’t even pronounce it with your mortal tongue!” There was a preternatural stillness to the room suddenly, the constant white noise of modern life seeming to fade away. “You couldn’t comprehend the barest facts of my existence, of how long I’ve lived or the lives I’ve taken, the destruction I’ve wrought!”
She worked her way up to a fever pitch, an endless litany of sin and fury pouring out of a woman he’d never thought capable of killing a spider. What she spoke wasn’t a harangue or a diatribe, she said nothing of his sins or his own failures as a boyfriend or a person, it was her soul overflowing, though at every stage it felt more and more like some kind of mental break.
Finally he could take it no longer, and as she was was detailing another in a long line of incidents he could barely even remember where apparently his own clumsiness had saved him from a certain death, Jack shot up from the bed. Katie’s words (he refused to believe what she’d said about her true name,) ran together into a shocked squeal as Jack’s arms wrapped around her waist, squeezing tighter than was necessary in his terror.
“Katie,” he said, “I don’t understand anything you’re saying. I’m so, so confused and scared and I just want to help! So please, let me help you, lets get you some help ok? If you really believe this stuff you need a professional and I’ll be right there with you to figure this out—”
Before his plea was even finished Katie’s hands smashed into his chest, throwing him backwards hard enough that he missed the edge of the bed and tumbled over the other side. From his position on the floor he could hear her sharp, pained gasp at what she had just done, and he could feel every inch of the wicked bruise that would soon form on his chest from the blow.
Groaning in pain Jack pulled himself back up, struggling to his feet across from her. At the edges of his now blurry vision he could see something, like a black smoky fog working its way into the room, tracking its way up his girlfriend’s feet, then calves. It collected in her palms for a moment, some of it seeming to disappear into her very skin before the rest worked itself further and further up her body.
[\-----continued below----](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/l7tznb/wp_for_a_year_and_a_half_and_by_sheer_dumb_luck/gl9pkku?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | 2021-01-29T10:43:28 | 2021-01-29T10:26:25 | 59 | 38 |
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile. | I laid where I was tossed; on a bathroom floor with my back to the door. My hands and feet were bound and I hadn’t moved since my *kidnapping* took place that morning. In a way, it was my own fault that I was caught, and no doubt my husband was going to have plenty to say about it tomorrow morning over breakfast.
You see, we have a staff of nearly a hundred at the estate, and Michael has always warned me against leaving the house during a full moon. To leave whatever needed doing to the staff. But I was not a china doll. I was thirty-eight and had three teenaged kids and I refused to be put on a shelf. Other mothers drove their kids to school, and I wanted to do at least that much. On the trip home, I got peckish and pulled into a supermarket to buy a pack of ribs to gnaw on along the way.
The supermarket parking lot was where they drove up alongside my car in a white van and ambushed me. The chloroform they held over my face was a dirty trick, for this time of the month made us especially susceptible to it.
That was the downside. On the upside, it didn’t take long to shake off the effects either. Animal metabolism for the win. So five minutes later, while pretending to still be asleep, I heard the two in the driver’s cabin talking.
Because … our hearing was good at this time of month as well.
Fast forward to the evening, and Michael had timed his response perfectly. I could hear my kidnappers arguing in the next room, but unless they had splurged on silver bullets, they were about to have a really bad evening.
The worst part was yet to come. I could feel the pull of the moon’s second full cycle and I went up onto my knees, reaching out to hold the window ledge. Whoever said the shift was easy was a goddamn moron. Bones popping and swelling. Flesh tearing and reforming. And here’s me, trying to undergo all of that without making a noise. Trust me, it doesn’t matter that I’ve been undergoing this since I first hit puberty a couple of decades ago. It still hurts like a mofo!
In my half form, I was like every other lycanthrope. Eight feet tall, and three wide at the shoulder. Fortunately, three inches of jet black hair all over kept me morally decent. Because yes, we are still people, even in that form, thank you.
Needless to say, the ropes that bound me were now in pieces on the floor among the fragments of my shredded clothes. With my ears twitched forward, I heard my family howling nearby, and my own chest swelled to respond.
I busted out the tiny bathroom window, not to escape but just to let them know I was fine.
And that brought my kidnappers running.
Let me also be the first to say, it never gets old to watch one or more cocky humans at that moment when they realise they are screwed in every sense of the word. By removing me from the city, they had guaranteed no help would be forthcoming. Even better, my pack had followed the note back to where I was being held. By scent through the broken window, I knew there were currently more werewolves in the immediate vicinity than humans.
Michael was never going to let me live this down.
They started firing at me, and I raised myself to my full height to give them the biggest possible target. Without silver to lead the way, their weapons wouldn’t even penetrate our dermal layer.
After they ran out of bullets, they drew their knives.
*Slow, slow learners.*
I couldn’t help myself. I chuckled, and that sound is even creepier on an upright werewolf. At my age, I was able to speak in this form. I had one word for them.
***“Run.”***
Last night, the pack had hunted down a handful of rabbits and two wild pigs within our mountainous property.
Tonight would be something to tell the grandkids.
*\* \* \**
((All comments welcome))
***For more of my work including WPs:*** [r/Angel466](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/) or an index of previous WPS [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/comments/m4p5f2/wp_index_take_two/). | “Hahaha I love him so damn much,” I laugh from my small cage.
The paranoid one, the one that sounds the youngest is the first to address me. “Hey, you! Didn’t we tell you to shut the fuck up?! This doesn’t change anything.”
The older, more confident one walks up to my “cage” and beats the butt of the gun on the window, wearing a large, gapped-filled grin. “So what, your husband doesn’t give a damn about you? I’m sure someone will still pay a pretty penny for spoiled little rich girl like you.”
I shake my head, unable to contain my laughter. “I have to do this every full moon, and yet somehow he still manages to make this fun for me.”
I look at him through the window, my recently washed hair hanging down in front of my face. “Kane, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
He looks at me annoyed at first, and then he notices the horrible figure to his right. He takes a step back and tries to run, but a dark hand grabs him from below, holding him in place. Terror fills his face.
“No... fuck... you were in my dreams. Ever since I was a kid. You’re... not real.”
Through my small window, I see the tall lumbering monster saunter into my field of vision. It appears as a brown, fleshy creature with many appendages protruding from its abdomen. Eyeballs resting on the tips of its stubs all pointing towards Kane, who is now frozen in fear. With each step it takes, it’s flesh ripples from its feet to the top of its headless abdomen.
His partner noticing the sudden change in disposition, approaches him and puts his hand on his shoulder.
“Kane whats going on with you?! Don’t break on me now, we captured her without a hitch. Still no word on the police radio either.”
Kane slowly looks to his partner, unable to create any words. The creature quickly grabs him and pulls him into the ground with the assistance of the hands still holding his ankles.
“What the hell?!” He takes a step back, and reaches for his gun.
Still laughing to myself, I step out of my “prison,” out into the dimly lit field they were keeping me in. I look around and get my bearings, while taking a deep breath of crisp night air. Lee looks at me, confusion and terror on his face.
“No no no. Fuck this shit, I’m out.” He turns and runs the opposite direction, before hitting a transparent wall that ripples upon contact.
I walk up behind him, “hmm it’s always exciting to see what you conjure up. Kane’s was kinda boring, quite typical actually. What will you see?”
He turns back to me, his face completely pale. When he notices a small girl, knee-high in front of him. “No no no, baby girl you can’t be here. You need to go back home with mommy.”
She looks up at him, “but daddy, what are we gonna do when you’re gone?”
He looks at me, confused at first, then the pieces begin to click. “At least let me say goodbye to them.”
I look at him frowning, “sorry I wish it worked that way.”
Tears forming in his eyes, the girl takes him by the hand and smiles at him. “Come on daddy, I’ll go with you so you’re not alone.”
Almost instantly, he disappears into the ground along with the spectral image of the girl.
With that, two marbles plop to the ground in front of me. Sighing, I picking them up. “Well shit, that was depressing.”
I turn around and the next thing I know I’m back in my house, on my couch sitting in front of the TV. My husband walks up and sets a bag down in front of me with a big yellow smiley face. “Hey honey, you made it home just in time! Just got back with some takeout from your favorite place. How was your night?”
I look at him, exhausted. “Oh you know, another full moon. I loved the message you sent. But did it have to be a father? You know that always bums me out.”
He shrugs, taking the fried rice and chicken out of the bag. “Eh I know, but trust me when I say it’s better for her and her mom for him to be gone. Wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”
I sigh a breath of relief. “Oh well that makes me feel a little better, let me give him the marbles real quick.”
I walk into the kitchen and place the marbles in one of our 100 black, string-tied bags. I then set it on the floor, in the middle of the painted symbol, unchanged for many years. The same dark hands from earlier reach up and slowly pull the bag into the ground.
I walk back over to the couch and plop down next to my husband. He extends his hand out to mine holding a small golden cookie. “Hey before we eat, let’s check our fortunes.”
Laughing, I crack open the cookie, take the slip of paper out and then hand it to him. “Here you read it”.
He takes it in his hand, furrowing his brow to read the message. “Hmm it says, ‘you will live a very long and very healthy life.’”
We both burst out into laughter. Him and I grab our wine from the table and raise our glasses to toast. Smiling, we say at the same time
“to eternal life.” | 2021-03-19T01:41:28 | 2021-03-19T01:11:48 | 567 | 345 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | As i emerge from a sort of sleep, I’m standing in my school hall, and there is a bunch of people standing in front of me.
“Umm, what happened”, i ask my self, as one of the people staring at me asks, “you are back, is everything’s alright?”
I start to feel anxious, it’s too much attention, i utter under my nose “what do you mean, what happened”, “do you not remember what happened?” One of the teachers asks.
“No...”
“You were just stuck there in the hallway, you didn’t move and we couldn’t move you, it’s been an hour now”
“What? I don’t remember that, all I remember is...”
Memories start to seep in, i can see josh, the school bully talking to me, thats the last memory i have.
“Dude you were like a statue, we couldn’t move you even if ten of us tried pushing you” one of the students said.
As i stud there my legs started shaking. All i can think of is that this is too much attention, i just want to get out of here, and as one of the students slap me on the shoulder. “Don’t wor...”
I wake up in the same hallway. No one around. It’s the middle of the night. The walls seemed a bit torn up, the paint worn of, trash around the corners. “What happened again?”, i look down, and in a circle around me says, “The statue boy”.
As i look through the window, the first thing that caught my eye, was that all the trees seemed a lot bigger. Twice the size actually.
As i walk toward the exit, the door is nailed with wooden planks. There is trash everywhere. It looks abandoned.
As i crawl through between planks. I notice all the houses seem similar but a bit different, and i finally asked myself the question that has been sitting on the back of my mind as i realise my powers “what year am i in?”.
——————————————
[part 2](https://www.reddit.com/user/pie_jesu/comments/mi3v09/part_2_super_power_of_escape/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) | *Terror. Drowning in it. Feeling your legs and arms and hands tremble uncontrollably. Feeling your lips ready to cry, feeling that icy iron hand of fear grasping your soul. Begging to be allowed to scream. Only to have the hand of a man over your mouth, shutting you up.*
*Hardly being able to breath through your nose, pleading for a broader gap. Fighting, struggling, without ever saving yourself. And when you finally give up, paralyzed by terror and with tears in your eyes, when you give in to the trembling, the man will have won.*
*And he will do whatever he well wants with you. And you won't make a sound, for you will have been broken.*
*And you will lie in bed, long after he's gone, crying. Grieving for an innocence sacrificed at the altar of abuse, to a cruel, sadistic God...*
I darted up from the bed, screaming "NO". Abel, startled from his bed next to me, turned to look.
" Vania, what the fu-"
He freezes. His eyes go dim. His muscles contract, I can see it below his night gown. Without warning, he begins trembling. A tremble I knew all too well.
It was the tremble of absolute, shattering horror. The fear of expectation, knowing exactly what torturous fate awaits you, yet it delaying only by the whim of a torturer.
**Your** torturer. Your very own devil. And the once homely room becomes a dungeon, of horrors no-one but **you** will ever see.
I became painfully aware that his terror was my doing. Immediately, I tried to make it stop. I didn't want to hurt my brother. He was just trying to help.
Like an obedient dog, whatever horrors I had unleashed upon Abel's mind retreated back to me. Abel fell back, on his bed, and came to his senses. With cold sweat running down his spine, he glared at me.
**What was that, Vania? What the hell was that?"**
Gradually understanding myself, I nodded slowly. "My newly acquired power, Abel."
My voice felt different. Soft, but with an underlying harshness. It wasn't the first time I dreamt about that night. Many a time before had I felt that man's hands on me, the rough rope flay my wrists. That piece of cloth in my mouth, stopping my cries from calling for help...
And the sheer terror. Unfiltered, raw, grim. Unending. Constant. A fear that never, in all my life, will go away.
I realised, belatedly, that I was crying again. Abel came close to me reluctantly. He sat by me, and put a tender arm around my shoulders. I flinched at his touch, but he didn't move away.
"Is... *that*, why you moved back in with me?" I nod positively, unable to speak through my sobs.
Abel pulled me towards him, and, unwillingly at first, I leaned on his chest and cried. He simply hugged me, with trembling arms, and pressed me against his body.
"It's gonna be okay. Calm down, it's all over now..."
It wasn't over. Powers have influence over their master. Every time Abel controlled the water, a small portion of that feeling of drowning returned. And every time I raised a wall of horror, from then on, a part of my own trauma returned.
I would never be free of my fear. I couldn't fight it, just as though Abel couldn't fight it that very night. I couldn't escape, just like he couldn't.
I was trapped. And that, for all intents and purposes, was *horrifying*... | 2021-04-01T03:47:34 | 2021-03-31T22:15:25 | 58 | 43 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do. | "Now, before you go out to become a diplomat, there's some... media... that we require you to consume before you get the job."
"Oh, is there a guideboo-"
*Instructor dumps a ton of sci-fi literature onto the table, all of which collapse into a messy heap almost immediately*
"Oh, uh, so-"
*Instructor dumps a pile of old DVDs of sci-fi movies and shows onto the heap of books, with similar results on the heap's organization*
"No, no, this has to be a joke, I-"
*Instructor places a single hard drive containing a pirated copy of Stellaris on top of the DVDs*
"No. Get going. Now."
&#x200B;
101 words, *Perfect!* | The stars then grew inside my view
when from the darkness, light came through
its then I saw what we always knew
Cthulhu's wings were poking through.
And so we sent a shuttle back
to help prepare earth for attack
to gear the children up - in fact -
it's this training where we grew.
We ventured out past Balder's gate
where Andromeda holds eyes at bay
the distance keeps beholder's gaze
from choking out our view.
But when you let beholders free
we know the pain they always bring
controlling nature's dumbest things
like goblins, bees, and crews.
Instead of falling for the trap,
we knew the secret to attack
the space where crews can't venture back
and bring us light to chew.
So when we crushed the eyes in there
we left the creatures in despair,
and sought to help them all repair
the life that they once knew.
Passed those stars is where we went
Until our engines were all spent
we found these insects on our backs
we could not simply cruise.
They sucked the brains from out our eyes
I watched young Winters lose his mind
and Summers lost his legs beside
where six high flying moons reside.
We sent the dead adrift in space
and told the tales of their escape
from life we knew the insects baited
towards the moon where their queen waited.
Phil was mad his son had died,
so its was his mind that we tied
up to the spaceship's smart AI
to keep him in our thrall.
We sent him down to kill the queen
we knew the drones would all be mean
a thousand legs and angry beams
dim darkness in their eyes.
Phil could never let it go
he'd never face his wife at home
until he stole the queen's dark throne
writhing, burned alive.
We made a song for Phil the brave
how in the night he found his ways
to fight the queen's unbroken gaze
full eyes that shown his doom.
Burn it, slice it, set it free,
Uncover what the stars had seen -
show us all of Phil's sweet dreams
of light in dawn or noon. | 2021-05-12T09:55:16 | 2021-05-12T08:17:04 | 263 | 23 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do. | "It didn't have to be like this." The Envoy of the Galactic Council was saddened by this tragedy; shameful beyond all things he had yet experienced.
"We could have tried harder. Reached out on First Contact. Shared our technology." Spoke Another, one of the scattered hives in a voice resonating many millions. "A shame. They would have added such potential."
On the Lunar surface were the words "NOPE" written in all human languages, standard galactic, and some unknown tongues. The Human Race, it would seem, had made a beeline straight for the uncolonized zones of the galaxy, where none dared to tread.
"Do you think they will come back in peace?" Asked the Envoy, shaking his head.
"Peices more likely." | The stars then grew inside my view
when from the darkness, light came through
its then I saw what we always knew
Cthulhu's wings were poking through.
And so we sent a shuttle back
to help prepare earth for attack
to gear the children up - in fact -
it's this training where we grew.
We ventured out past Balder's gate
where Andromeda holds eyes at bay
the distance keeps beholder's gaze
from choking out our view.
But when you let beholders free
we know the pain they always bring
controlling nature's dumbest things
like goblins, bees, and crews.
Instead of falling for the trap,
we knew the secret to attack
the space where crews can't venture back
and bring us light to chew.
So when we crushed the eyes in there
we left the creatures in despair,
and sought to help them all repair
the life that they once knew.
Passed those stars is where we went
Until our engines were all spent
we found these insects on our backs
we could not simply cruise.
They sucked the brains from out our eyes
I watched young Winters lose his mind
and Summers lost his legs beside
where six high flying moons reside.
We sent the dead adrift in space
and told the tales of their escape
from life we knew the insects baited
towards the moon where their queen waited.
Phil was mad his son had died,
so its was his mind that we tied
up to the spaceship's smart AI
to keep him in our thrall.
We sent him down to kill the queen
we knew the drones would all be mean
a thousand legs and angry beams
dim darkness in their eyes.
Phil could never let it go
he'd never face his wife at home
until he stole the queen's dark throne
writhing, burned alive.
We made a song for Phil the brave
how in the night he found his ways
to fight the queen's unbroken gaze
full eyes that shown his doom.
Burn it, slice it, set it free,
Uncover what the stars had seen -
show us all of Phil's sweet dreams
of light in dawn or noon. | 2021-05-12T11:36:58 | 2021-05-12T08:17:04 | 120 | 23 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do. | What the humans didn't know the Sci-fi Genre is not what prepared them for these scenarios.
The Human Race was not from Earth but on another planet called Hultron. Where most species evolved high intelligence. But had to evacuate the planet after a Galactic Empire Civil War.
So, they sent an emergency spaceship to Ice Age Earth. But it crashed and the passengers went native. after a few generations. Forgetting their technology and living among native Neanderthals.
Generations later an ancestral memory programed into their DNA by Geneticists in case of emergency reactivated. It reactivated when people accidentally reinvented electricity. Causing Science Fiction author to have dream like visions of the past they believed to be speculative ideas of the future.
Human had to rediscover Hultron to fully realize what happened but they had a galaxy of dangers to fight first. | The stars then grew inside my view
when from the darkness, light came through
its then I saw what we always knew
Cthulhu's wings were poking through.
And so we sent a shuttle back
to help prepare earth for attack
to gear the children up - in fact -
it's this training where we grew.
We ventured out past Balder's gate
where Andromeda holds eyes at bay
the distance keeps beholder's gaze
from choking out our view.
But when you let beholders free
we know the pain they always bring
controlling nature's dumbest things
like goblins, bees, and crews.
Instead of falling for the trap,
we knew the secret to attack
the space where crews can't venture back
and bring us light to chew.
So when we crushed the eyes in there
we left the creatures in despair,
and sought to help them all repair
the life that they once knew.
Passed those stars is where we went
Until our engines were all spent
we found these insects on our backs
we could not simply cruise.
They sucked the brains from out our eyes
I watched young Winters lose his mind
and Summers lost his legs beside
where six high flying moons reside.
We sent the dead adrift in space
and told the tales of their escape
from life we knew the insects baited
towards the moon where their queen waited.
Phil was mad his son had died,
so its was his mind that we tied
up to the spaceship's smart AI
to keep him in our thrall.
We sent him down to kill the queen
we knew the drones would all be mean
a thousand legs and angry beams
dim darkness in their eyes.
Phil could never let it go
he'd never face his wife at home
until he stole the queen's dark throne
writhing, burned alive.
We made a song for Phil the brave
how in the night he found his ways
to fight the queen's unbroken gaze
full eyes that shown his doom.
Burn it, slice it, set it free,
Uncover what the stars had seen -
show us all of Phil's sweet dreams
of light in dawn or noon. | 2021-05-12T09:28:01 | 2021-05-12T08:17:04 | 54 | 23 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do. | When the scientists discovered a plane of existence parallel to ours, made up of energy most accurately described as "emotional energy" they started looking for ways to exploit it. Before they could get too far, one of the scientists asked the important question, is there any intelligence in there? A long and drawn out period of research proved that not only were there intelligences in this realm, but that they were all disappointingly collosal dicks. The fact that they matched the descriptions of similar beings from a popular tabletop game made the scientists sigh in indignation. They shared this information with the entirety of humanity after reading the books, knowing that ignorance is going to fail due to all the science fiction they've read themselves. With everything said and done, they all facepalmed and just decided to ignore the intelligences and decided to go forward with the portal project | The stars then grew inside my view
when from the darkness, light came through
its then I saw what we always knew
Cthulhu's wings were poking through.
And so we sent a shuttle back
to help prepare earth for attack
to gear the children up - in fact -
it's this training where we grew.
We ventured out past Balder's gate
where Andromeda holds eyes at bay
the distance keeps beholder's gaze
from choking out our view.
But when you let beholders free
we know the pain they always bring
controlling nature's dumbest things
like goblins, bees, and crews.
Instead of falling for the trap,
we knew the secret to attack
the space where crews can't venture back
and bring us light to chew.
So when we crushed the eyes in there
we left the creatures in despair,
and sought to help them all repair
the life that they once knew.
Passed those stars is where we went
Until our engines were all spent
we found these insects on our backs
we could not simply cruise.
They sucked the brains from out our eyes
I watched young Winters lose his mind
and Summers lost his legs beside
where six high flying moons reside.
We sent the dead adrift in space
and told the tales of their escape
from life we knew the insects baited
towards the moon where their queen waited.
Phil was mad his son had died,
so its was his mind that we tied
up to the spaceship's smart AI
to keep him in our thrall.
We sent him down to kill the queen
we knew the drones would all be mean
a thousand legs and angry beams
dim darkness in their eyes.
Phil could never let it go
he'd never face his wife at home
until he stole the queen's dark throne
writhing, burned alive.
We made a song for Phil the brave
how in the night he found his ways
to fight the queen's unbroken gaze
full eyes that shown his doom.
Burn it, slice it, set it free,
Uncover what the stars had seen -
show us all of Phil's sweet dreams
of light in dawn or noon. | 2021-05-12T10:04:42 | 2021-05-12T08:17:04 | 48 | 23 |
[WP] “Although we are grateful to you for defeating our oppressors, you were meant to die in battle…” your “allies” suddenly turned their weapons on you, “Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” | "Agreed," I said, drawing my blade once more. "Becoming a murderer is a sacrifice *no one* is going to forget. Even if it is self-defence."
The priests paused, looking at one another with a startling mixture of confusion and fear. "N - no, Nicholas," Ajimond, the Head Priest said. "No, we're suppose to kill you because it's all part of the prophecy to keep a greater evil at bay."
Nine priests muttered in agreement at the same time:
"Oh, yes, absolutely/A greater evil than anyone can fathom, dear boy/More terrible than the Seven Beasts of Sarintik/I've read he's quite a nice deity if you get to know him, actually. Wait, what?"
The Head Priest gestured toward Nicholas' ebony blade. "Please, if it helps, we can prove it to you. We can show you through the Runes of Frankulus-"
"-Fraudulus," One of the priests interjected. "I think you've been reading from-"
"-and you will see we mean no insult to killing you." Ajimond finished, bellowing.
Nicholas could tell they meant the truth. Killing him would bring no joy or satisfaction to Ajimond and the nine priests. It was an act of necessity that drove them to this urgent deed. He could understand that, just as he could understand there was no way he was going to let them drive a dagger into his heart.
It was an act of necessity to kill them before they killed him.
"You'll have to kill me," Nicholas said.
"You're a fool, Nicholas/You'll doom us all with this act of cowardice/I never took you for a bastard/Guys, I think you're mistaking the - oh, you're attacking him" The priests said, voicing their displeasure.
Ajimond and eight priests advanced on Nicholas, their emerald daggers raised. In such a dark dungeon, Nicholas had been cornered - a deliberate act to corner him, with only his sword to protect him. On the battlefield there'd been a shield and armour, but here, he needed to be quick and precise if he wanted to get out of this alive.
And precise he was: two priests heads were removed from their necks, rolling to the ground in a permanent expression of surprise; Gajik was cut in half horizontally, though his dagger came closest to piercing Nicholas' skin. My elbow bashed into another priest. There was a horrible crunch as a nose was broken, followed by their skull as my sword crashed into it.
Ajimond raised his hand, and a small fireball began to appear in the centre of his palm, growing larger and larger until that hand was decapitated, closely followed by the top half of his head.
Samuel turned on the remaining priests who had chosen to kill him. His ebony blade was painted in blood, but he fixed the priests a bloodthirsty glare.
"Nicholas, this will not end well for you," Twurnfield said, his hands trembling. "You have to trust me. The Runes of Frankulus the Third-"
"*Fraudulus*!" The priest at the door called out. "I swear to the gods, you've been-"
"-does not lie. It never has. Would you really subject the people to such a horrendous fate? Enslavement under the most *unimaginable* brutality?" Twurnfield continued, his voice growing in anger. "Is that really you?"
Before Nicholas had a chance to reply, two of the priests lunged at him, aiming their daggers at different parts of his body. Thinking just as quickly, though almost unbalancing himself doing so, he parried the priest to the left, sidestepping toward the wall, pushing the priest into the other priest. He drove his blade through both of them, ripping out their hearts like a skewer.
"Gods damn you!" Twurnfield roared. The three priests attacked, and Nicholas could see the desperation in their eyes, and he pitied them. They'd been raised from birth to never question anything other than what their fanatical texts told them. He should know - he was raised by them, but he could never convince them to change their ways.
Then again, he'd been eight when he'd tried to convince significantly older priests, so you couldn't really blame him.
His sword sliced through Twurfield's chest, following through with impaling another priest through the gut, leaving him to bleed to death. His final attacker hesitated, gritting his teeth, determining his best cause of action. Eventually, he turned the blade on himself, despite Nicholas' protest.
Nicholas looked around with pity at the nine bodies that had all fallen in an attempt to stop him. Then, he focused his attention on the lone priest who had ran to the door, watching the madness unfold.
"I tried to tell them they'd been reading from the wrong Runes, but they kept interrupting me" He said desperately. "It's not Frankulus they'd been studying, it's *Fraudulus -* the "Runes" written by a very clever *FRAUD*!" | Together we stand among the corpses of the invading army's commanders. "It was a complete rout," I mused as the still superior force fled haphazardly from the ramshackle force of farmers and former soldiers of the already defeated monarchy. These people were once oppressed by their monarch Lord Bloodfist, a rough translation from their barbaric tongue, or something equally asinine.
The names never meant much to me. I was a nomadic hero after all. I never used the same name either. I wasn't in it for the glory, I just loved humiliating empires and great generals. Once their monarch had been hung disemboweled from his own castle walls by the invading Romans, they of course set in with their own style of oppression. The people of course then wished for a hero to come and save them from the Romans.
I gathered the rable rousers and created a make shift army, initiated a few skirmishes to get the host on the field, and they fell for my trap and the ruse. The trap was fairly simple, get the commanders on the field, once the fighting started a skilled group would ambush the command party, kill the leaders, signal the main forces with conflicting information so that they're in disarray, and let loose the siege engines. A few hundred killed at most, but the whole army demoralized and fleeing an inferior force, most of which had already been killed in the first sortie.
Damn bloody work, and the bowmen hidden along the roads will harry the retreating army giving them the illusion they are being pursued. They'll likely march until they drop. If these rubes took my advice, the army will be decimated by next sunrise, and will likely march all the way back to Rome.
"Not bad for a few weeks work," I say mostly to myself when I notice that the conspirators that had fought with me hadn't put away their weapons, and still seemed bloody minded. "What's this then?" I ask prepared for what I knew was coming next.
"Although we are grateful to you for defeating our oppressors, you were meant to die in battle..." The lot of them turing their blades towards me, "your sacrifice will not be forgotten."
As they advance on me, I say, "ok, but why? I mean you've gotten what you wanted, and let's be honest, I didn't even tell you my real name. For that matter, I didn't even bother to learn yours. I simply couldn't care less." I say casually rolling my captured gladius in my off hand while glancing in the mirror reflection of the ornamental pillam I'd gotten off one of the Preatorian Guards to see the ambush coming from behind.
"You know, the reason why I'm still alive, and this Roman Senator is dead," I say gesturing to the field commander at my feet, "is because I'm the greatest illusionist to ever have lived. My trickery is so multilayered you haven't even begun to realize that you lot aren't really in control here!" I let out a loud gaffaw flicking the gladius into the belly of my would be assassin from behind, while kicking the pillam's haft to give it speed as it turns in my dominant hand, hitting a would be attacker with the butt, I grasp the haft hard, plant my foot, and swing it round forcing those in front to to duck back to avoid it's blade. Twirling with a flourish, I snatch a red cloak off one of the fallen, and spin it around over my shoulders.
"I'm sorry, but before I leave I really must know, why did you betray me? There's nothing in it for you, I simply don't understand. I'm nameless to your associates, no attachments to your cause, it just makes no sense! The only people who even know of my involvement are you lot, to everyone else, and to history you will be the ones who stopped the Roman invasion."
"I saw your bag of Roman silver!" Their de facto leader screams at me as he lunges attempting to gut me with his daggar. Powerful hands drag him to the ground as the "slain" Preatorian Guards come up from their positions and capture the rest of the party.
"I see, you think that I'm paid by the Romans to help you then you suspect I'll betray you? Well you're partially right. This bit of political theater was conceived of and orchestrated by yours truly to rid the Caesar of his best friend and troublesome rival. This has the additional effects of garnering sympathy for the Caesar among the populace for his loss, and comforting the Senate that his power has been reduced by this humiliation in foreign lands. All according to plan to consolidate the Caesars power when he takes to the field and destroys all resistance in this barbaric land."
"Anyway, I don't have time to give you the full Roman experience, so this will have to suffice," I say as I pull off my red silk belt with the offending silver tied in a pocket one end, "this little device I learned about leagues to the east," as the Preatorian Guards turn the remnants of the cabal to face their leader and bring them in close for the spectacle, "one end of the belt is weighted, coin or even rocks will suffice," I whirl the belt above my head letting out it's full length, "spinning it like so," I kneel and bring the spinning silk to the side of his neck, "it has the delightful effect of wrapping around your target's neck like this," I give a tug as the silver in the pocket comes to rest in my other hand after wrapping his neck thrice.
"Now a sharp tug, and twist." The man's eyes bulge as the blood from his veins is trapped in his head while the arteries continue to pump blood in, and he begins to choke further driving up the pressure. "Wait just a moment for maximum effect, and cut here." I slice the man's throat and his blood drenches his allies in a sudden spray of bright red. Keeping the pressure so that he lives just long enough to see their horror and the Preatorian Guards cut half of them down. I release, the blood vents quickly and the man is dead. "Not as fun or dramatic as a crucifixion, but it'll do in a pinch." I say to my loyal Preatorian, and the remaining members of the resistance. "You may wish to flee these lands before I return. My wrath for you killing my uncle will be terrible." I say smiling amicably. "Now then, let's catch that army and save the day. Gloria Exercitus!" | 2022-11-02T01:11:10 | 2022-11-01T19:28:17 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] A man gains the amount of people in the world as money on his account. But when he spends that money, people die. | First try at a writing prompt. Critiques are appreciated.
"There's actually an account already in your name, Mr. Jendayi." The bank teller raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure this is your first time here?"
"I-- well, yes, of course it is. An account? How much?"
"$7,184,415,339. Do you want to just add what you have to your current account?"
"Wait, wait. Is this American? American currency? Where did it come from?" Hondo Japeri leaned over the marble counter, a shred of hope kindling in his chest. The farm, his land-- maybe his business could still be salvaged--
The bank teller leaned back, a distasteful look on his face. "Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Japeri." The shred withered. "It is the currency of our great nation, of course."
Well, that was that. Hondo was going to lose his family's home, their land, everything. Shameful, he looked away from the teller.
"Just... just give me what's in there. I'll make a new account later."
The teller shrugged and took a few moments to empty the account, handing him a bundle of wrapped notes. Hondo looked down at it for a moment, unsure. "I, ah. What do I do now? I mean is there, ah, some other procedure--"
"No." The teller was rapidly losing patience with him. "Please, Mr. Jendayi, there are other customers." Hondo looked behind him and saw a sea of dark faces. Most were as haggard as his. Lean, thin, hungry. These were dark times.
Hondo shuffled out of the bank into the bright Zimbabwean sunlight. Perhaps he'd buy a coffee, if he had enough on him. | "Five billion?"
"Yes Mr. Jones, five billion."
"And what exactly is five billion buying me?"
Anne Reid straightened up in her chair and allowed a smile to creep onto her usually stern face. Stern but beautiful. A woman in a position such as hers had to be beautiful. I assumed it was like any other profession in which beautiful woman do better; especially when dealing with rich men. Better looking waitresses took home more tips, attractive realtors sold more expensive homes, pretty prostitutes were call girls and escorts instead of hookers.
"First and foremost, five billion buys peace of mind. Extensive medical screening for every employee that is used from the engineers to the maids. After the primary screening employees are placed in quarantine for 14 days before a final physical is performed."
The process sounded thorough enough. You could never be too careful nowadays with the world the way it was. "That sounds well and good, worth a hundred million or so at least. Are you confident that this level of screening will keep my family safe from harm?"
If there was any doubt in her mind, Anne Reid did not allow it to show on her face. "Very confident. The rest of the money will go to more concrete expenditures. There's an airstrip and heli-pad to construct, commercial grade boat dock, and multiple accommodation units."
"I trust these units will built to my standard?"
"Every luxury you requested and then some. We will also be constructing a paved network of roads connecting everything. That one was my idea, I didn't think a man with a collection of cars as elaborate as yours would want to spend the rest of his life unable to drive."
Five billion. It was almost everything I had left but I hadn't expected buying an island to be cheap. Easy come easy go as they say. Besides, it was a small price to pay for the safety of my family and friends. We would be safe from the plagues in our little island paradise as the rest of the world burned around us. I shifted in my seat and tried to make it look like I was debating the purchase but my mind had been made up for months. I supposed I could have more units built and sell safety at a premium if I ever need some walking around money. "How long will it take before the island is ready to be settled? Time is of the essence, i'm sure you understand."
Anne's eyes began to gleam like a starved wolf that happened upon a herd of sheep. I wonder what kind of commission she was getting from a five billion dollar purchase. Probably the kind that would allow her to relocate to a small island herself. "If it pleases you, you and your party can begin the screening process today. By the time it is complete we will have a temporary residence in place."
Anne Reid did not fuck around. "Wonderful, so is it just a matter of shaking hands and signing a dotted line?"
"That, and the payment. Half now, half upon completion of the project."
"Send the contracts to my lawyer and i'll have my accountant begin the transfer after everything is looked over. Pleasure doing business with you Ms. Reid."
"Likewise Mr. Jones. Safe travels." | 2014-08-09T08:29:59 | 2014-08-09T06:17:20 | 73 | 13 |
[WP] Humanity long ago discovered all of reality is a simulation created by others. They are long gone. Memory in the system is running out, and reality is starting to fray. Time skips and stutters. You are a member of the team sent to augment the machine that is our world. | "Five. Four. Three. One"
Everything in the console went pitch black and, for a moment, we ceased to exist. When I woke up in the Mother Reality, I was staring at a sign in a dark closet that said "Please remember to charge the apparatus." I felt nothing. The networked maintenance robot that we had hacked and inserted my conciousness into perceived the world through a grainy camera. I started to feel the panic I had been warned about, but I followed my orders.
I opened the door and felt myself floating toward the dark and abandoned hallway. There was a poster on the wall of a man holding a glowing stick and a metallic ball. There were some words in a strange alphabet that the robot's linguistic interpreter translated as "GO FIGHTING [WORD UNTRANSLATABLE!]" As I moved through the hallway, I couldn't help but notice that their world was so similar to ours. I recognized the environment as an academic building. I passed darkened offices and classrooms that looked identical to the interior of my own university. I felt sad for these lost people who were so like us. I wondered what had caused the demise that led to our world discovering its origin only after it had started glitching and time skipping.
Eventually I found Taylor. She was sitting in the middle of a courtyard on campus, watching a flowing fountain surrounded by statues of strange looking angels - a big, rusty, yellow robot somehow looking contemplative. I got her attention and tried to pull her away, but she didn't want to move. Finally, she reluctantly started walking towards the building that the brains back home had assured us the server of our world was located in.
We found it in a room marked "Special Project: Authorized Personnel Only". It was unimpressive, our world. A black tower of little glowing dots and colorful wires. I stepped forward to open the machine and then I saw myself tumbling toward the floor. Taylor had pushed me. As I looked up I saw her raise the server and slam it to the ground. She stomped on it and hit it until it was broken into little metal shards. Everything went black again when the staff rushed in and deactivated us.
I don't know why she did it. Maybe the panic got to her. Maybe she realized that the Mother Reality wasn't extinct before I did, that we were just an insignificant and neglected special project that would be shut down at the end of the semester. I only know that my world is gone and Taylor has been sent back to the factory where her robot was made. From what I overhear, our reality wasn't important enough to replace or build again. The room is being used for something else now, and I am trapped inside of this robot, voiceless and alone.
| It was a voyage that went no where. Took no time. And never existed. It was my future, my past, my present. We went forward by going back. And somehow, through it all, we made it. We were here. At the Omega, at the Alpha.
You could tell that it was...sick? Dying? The colours were bleached. Pulsating in veins across a metal box. Such a small thing to create reality. The pattern was an ever evolving fractal and even as we watched it we could see it slow down, see strands that may have represented life of a hundreds of star systems flicker out into nothingness.
________________________________________
The realisation that something was amiss came slowly at first. People started to have more episodes of absent mindedness - time slipped away like in a dream. Conversations started to form about how it seemed that something was amiss. Something important. There were increasingly more reports from Psychics about premonitions. More people being treated for psychotic breakdowns. But the incidents were small enough, the worry pushed away as we delved further into our work. Our play.
It wasn't until we received contact from those outside the Milky Way that we realised that something was wrong. Time signatures - oh so important in interstellar communication - were off. Not just by seconds. But by days. Weeks...Years. It was clear - it was foretold - The Reality System (TRS) was winding down.
_____________________________________
We spent an eternity just staring at it. TRS was right there. In front of us. Thought was dangerous here. An errant thought could catapult you into an entirely other existence. To prevent such a catastrophe we had all been trained as Zen Monks. Every day, 15 hours a day for 10 years. A hundred people started the program. By the end there was only us 3. The pressure, the stress, the strain, the slips in time - broke them.
So it was just us 3. Theresa - an Archip Catolic. Roslyn - an Atheist and me - Cindy just a chef. Nothing special. Except, at the end, apparently there was.
It's funny but not surprising that no males survived the training. They just aren't equipped to face something like this - hell, we really aren't equipped but here we are.
Spending an eternity in the blink of an eye.
_________________________
We came through the cracks in SpaceTime. Dropped into a chasm in the Earth and wound up...here. Wherever here is.
____________________________
"Ready?" Asked Theresa. I looked at Roslyn, her beautiful brown eyes looked into mine and we turned and nodded. "Let's finish this." Said Roslyn and with that we reached out and touched our God.
___________________________
It opened. I opened. We opened. We shed our mortal bodies and became...became a part of creation itself. This simulation is and is not like a machine. It is aware yet primordial. In that instant we knew that this reality was done. Finished. Dusted. We were there when reality crumbled like dust blowing away in the wind.
There wasn't one place that it happened in. It was everywhere, concurrently. Galaxies collapsed into black holes, which then disintegrated into a new form of matter that we had no words for and even this only lasted a fraction of a second before it too was gone.
We were there when families died in the middle of dinner, of an argument, of playing, laughing and dying. We were there at the heart of a Supernova that never had time to shine. We were there, with you at the end. You were unaware. Clueless that life was ceasing. You left this Universe along with every other piece of matter.
____________________________
We are worshiped now. Goddesses in our own right. In this strange new Universe - made from what you would call a soul. Yet our time is passing and so we seek those that can replace us.
___________________________
Life may continue but all that was left behind will never be remembered. | 2014-10-19T05:37:10 | 2014-10-19T02:30:45 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] DC Comics introduces its newest superhero. This character was seemingly created for the sole purpose of offending as many readers as possible. | "Coon Man?"
"He transforms into a raccoon and steals from the rich to give to the po-"
"Chink Man?"
"He can find or create a flaw in any armor! His powers extend into the psychologi-'
"Pollack Man?"
"He can commune with fish! Come to think of it, he might just be a strictly worse Aquam-"
"Shnozzman?"
"He can smell everything! His super sense of smell is borderline omnipres-"
"Why is he wearing a yarmulke?"
"Why aren't you?"
"...just work on the names, kid."
| "What exactly am I looking at, Eric?" Steve wasn't really getting my most recent pitch; After the failed pitch of a hatchet wielding superhero who actually kills his foes he hasn't been on my level.
"Well, its like Darkseid meets Islam see, an-"
"Woah, woah, woah. We can't run this. Eric, we can't alienate readers." I hate when Steve does this; shooting down controversy. Now he is doing that thing where he fiddles with his pen like a fourth grader who is in trouble.
"We could make him an Israeli." I offer up to Steve tentatively, as he stares at the white *Bic* embossing.
"That is the exact opposite of what we would want to do. No religions, it's too hard to do." he looks up " Did you not hear about the shooting in France over almost this exact thing?"
"Yes, Steve, I did. We need to try to be more edgy though. No more of this *I'm a hero, I don't kill, Blah Blah Blah* Bull shit!" I lower my voice to a reasonable level as people passing the meeting room stare in. "Why not comment on something powerful? Oh! We could do a Hero who publicly executes corrupt officials!" I let out a squee of what I can only consider dissentive joy.
"Eric. I think I know what we can do. It will seem uncontroversial for a while, but the commentary will start." he stares at his pen again, good lord he needs to learn to make eye contact. "We will make a story where Batman hangs up his cape, and invests in schooling, public housing, and so on; to reduce crime in Gotham."
"Steve" I look at his face, feeling like the Lord Henry to his Dorian Grey "We should make this happen. Now." If I am quitting to go to Marvel, I might as well leave on my best stride. | 2015-02-17T22:38:55 | 2015-02-17T20:53:20 | 52 | 13 |
[WP] You are a peanut farmer. Your father was a peanut farmer. Your father's father was a peanut farmer. Peanut farming is all you've ever known. Your first child has just been born, and has a deadly allergy to peanuts. | My wife... she died in childbirth. She gave her life for this child.
At first, I thought it was a poor trade. My wife for a broken child? One who could not even carry on the family business? I won't deny, I considered "accidentally" letting him eat some peanuts when he was young. No one would have been the wiser.
But no.
Just as Beethoven was deaf, and yet was the greatest composer of all time, so too shall my son be the greatest peanut farmer of them all.
I raised him alone, in secret. The world was not ready for him. I blindfolded him and tossed peanuts at him. I put him in peanut mazes. I bound him in ropes and chains and dangled him above a vat of boiling peanutbutter. He escaped it all.
When a peanut ripens anywhere on earth, he can tell. When an aphid takes the smallest bite from a peanut leaf, he knows.
No taste of the glorious peanut has ever graced his lips.
But that shall nut stop him.
Nutting can stop him now. | I had seen offerings -- well, heard of them -- growing up. They did not crop up in our band of 120 or so frequently, but they were so ordinary and well-accepted as to hardly be remarkable. One happened to a child in my birth year. Another, late, to a close friend of my wife's at seven years of age. Having it happen -- being a part of it -- with Jacob, my first child, was hard. More than hard it felt so unexpected at the time.
I am a peanut farmer. That defines me. That is all my wife and I contribute to the community. It is all we will contribute. It is all that will be expected of our family. It was what Jacob was born to do. No more, but no less. Peanuts are one of the few crops that can grow in the rough terrain of the frontier, and we have to do our part to stay part of the tribe. For Jacob not to be able to even be near them was a cruel mockery.
Jacob showed signs of his allergy very early on. We hoped he would overcome it and be able to thrive -- or at least survive -- around the plants, but that was never going to be possible. His delicate head jerked away from the mere scent. Touching them caused rashes wherever they brushed the surface of his precious skin. He was not going to be able to fulfill his role in our family. What was meant to be never would.
Deciding when to have a child and nurturing that child is a personal decision out here. It is an investment. No one is going help you with it. There is no willing family to take on the burden of an infant nor relative to carry the slack. Our decision was made for us -- we were going to have to make an offering.
With blurry eyes -- sadness twinged with hope for a better future -- I strode into the woods one the morning with Jacob cradled in my arms. After a few hours, I found a suitable clearing to make the offering. I said a brief prayer, and hesitated. It was customary to put the child down and leave him alone and with nothing. It was meant to be an offering to the frontier, a decision to cut losses, and a hope for a better future.
Love led me astray. I aborted the ritual. I could not do this to my son. I snatched him off the ground, filled with emotion. Hands shaking, I grabbed a handful of peanuts from my bag, forced them into his mouth, and watched him swallow. I trekked back to our home, shame heavy on my heart. | 2015-05-19T22:07:10 | 2015-05-19T20:47:09 | 247 | 15 |
[WP] You're a cop who reported to the final events of an action movie. This is your police report. | Officer: Al Powell [8L30]
Date: 25 December 1988
Charges: Terroristic Threats [4], Destruction of Public Property [213], Assaulting a Peace Officer [73], Murder [14], Interference with Federal Flight Operations, Assault of a Federal Agent [2], Murder of a Federal Agent [2], Murder of a Peace Officer [2], Felony Armed Robbery, Impersonation of a City Employee, Possession of an unlicensed firearm [22], CHARGES CONTINUED ON FELONY INFORMATION
Location: Nakatomi Plaza Building 2, 2121 Avenue of the Stars #120, Los Angeles, CA 90064 – Skyscraper facing South-SouthEast at cross street of the Avenue of the Stars and W. Galaxy Way
Suspect description: European men speaking German 10-12 led by Alan Rickman. All bodies recovered at the scene and in possession of the county coroner.
Event Summary:
While conducting a routine patrol in the second district I received and responded to a call for service at Nakatomi Plaza Building 2, 2121 Avenue of the Stars #120, Los Angeles, CA 90064 – Skyscraper facing South-SouthEast at cross street of the Avenue of the Stars and W. Galaxy Way
Upon arriving and conducting a through search of the area and speaking with building security personnel I was assured that there was no call for service and that it had been a misrouting by patrol dispatch. Approximately 2030 I exited the plaza and headed back to my patrol vehicle upon entering my patrol vehicle and shifting into gear the body of one of the suspects impacted the hood of my patrol vehicle. At that point I came under automatic high caliber weapons fire coming from the upper levels of the building; during this time I reversed my patrol vehicle to remove myself from the line of fire totaling my patrol vehicle off of the side of a parking embankment.
Officers arrived at the scene approximately 2045 to provide assistance and we established a security perimeter and requested SWAT units and Federal assistance.
I was able to establish radio communications with the complainant inside Nakatomi Plaza 2, the subject seemed to be a police office however he was not from our jurisdiction as he did not use California Penal Code references when transmitting. Complainant gave location and approximate number of hostages and the amount of plastic explosives, automatic weapons, and rockets. Complainant identified himself as ‘Roy’.
Deputy Chief of Police Dwayne Robinson and Mobile Emergency Operations arrived on scene and took command from there.
| On 12/14/2015 at 1350 hours, this officer responded to a call for service reporting "Shots Fired" at the intersection of Maple Avenue and Industrial Way.
Upon arriving on scene, this officer noted an abundance of shell casings littering the pavement outside the open warehouse loading bay. Prior to entering, this officer noted the empty brass was mostly belonging to a 9mm and of the same make (Federal Premium). Additional units were requested via radio but prior to the arrival of backup, and in fear of an active shooter situation still ongoing within, this officer drew his issued service weapon and announced his presence before entering the warehouse.
Once inside, this officer noted several shot persons in various locations, all obviously deceased with gun shot wounds to the forehead area of each. Of note, all decedents were in possession of high caliber, fully automatic, AK47 rifles. After clearing the area approximately ten yards into the building, this officer noted aggressive speech coming from the rear/officer area of the warehouse. This officer bypassed the deceased and headed directly to the voices in an urgent but cautious manner.
This officer observed three adults: two male, one female - inside an office. It appeared one of the males (S#1), later identified as wealthy shipping magnate Ralph De-Artifacio, was holding the female(IO2) hostage with an antique flintlock single fire pistol to her temple. The second male(IO1), later identified as Agent Max Hazzard, held two Glock 19 semi-automatic handguns trained on De-Artifacio.
Prior to announcing his presence, this officer heard IO1-Agent Hazzard mutter the phrase, "Not today, punk," before nodding to the female (IO2)- later identified as Hazel Gracington - who immediately reacted in what appeared to be a prearranged escape technique, possibly rehearsed with IO1 in a dark martial arts studio prior to a sweaty coital romp, evading S#1-De-Artificio's grasp and allowing IO1-Hazzard a clear shot. IO1-Hazzard fired both firearms simultaneously, both projectiles striking S#1-De-Artifacio in the chest. S#1 fell to the floor, dropping the flintlock. S#1 then reached his hand in IO2-Gracington's direction and stated, "It was all for you." before succumbing to his injuries.
This officer then made entry to the office and challenged IO1-Hazzard and IO2-Gracington at gun point. Both parties ignored this officer's commands to show their hands, instead taking part in an overly dramatic embrace and kiss. This officer noted the faint sound of a string-led orchestra, the source of which was never determined.
After providing credentials verifying his employment with the Federal Action Star Team (FAST) as well as NCIC confirmation of a valid license to kill, IO1-Hazzard briefed this officer on the following:
- Gracington had been kidnapped from Hazzard's apartment in the early morning hours of 12/14/2015 while Hazzard responded to a bomb threat at his partner's residence. Rather than contacting local authorities, Hazzard decided to "go-it alone" stating "this is what I'm trained for, kid" when questioned about his reasoning. Hazzard stated he came under fire by S#1's "henchmen" the moment he repelled from a warehouse across the street from the listed address. He was unable to provide a valid answer as to why there were so many spent rounds leading up to the warehouse, adding "these babies never left me down" before kissing one of his Glock 19s (standard 15 round capacity).
IO2-Gracington confirmed IO1's story and the two were allowed to depart the facility as this officer was reassigned to crime scene log duty over the next sixteen hours.
No further from this officer, case closed as a service to Federal Authority.
| 2015-12-14T09:57:21 | 2015-12-14T09:02:05 | 59 | 43 |
[WP] You're a cop who reported to the final events of an action movie. This is your police report. | Officer: Al Powell [8L30]
Date: 25 December 1988
Charges: Terroristic Threats [4], Destruction of Public Property [213], Assaulting a Peace Officer [73], Murder [14], Interference with Federal Flight Operations, Assault of a Federal Agent [2], Murder of a Federal Agent [2], Murder of a Peace Officer [2], Felony Armed Robbery, Impersonation of a City Employee, Possession of an unlicensed firearm [22], CHARGES CONTINUED ON FELONY INFORMATION
Location: Nakatomi Plaza Building 2, 2121 Avenue of the Stars #120, Los Angeles, CA 90064 – Skyscraper facing South-SouthEast at cross street of the Avenue of the Stars and W. Galaxy Way
Suspect description: European men speaking German 10-12 led by Alan Rickman. All bodies recovered at the scene and in possession of the county coroner.
Event Summary:
While conducting a routine patrol in the second district I received and responded to a call for service at Nakatomi Plaza Building 2, 2121 Avenue of the Stars #120, Los Angeles, CA 90064 – Skyscraper facing South-SouthEast at cross street of the Avenue of the Stars and W. Galaxy Way
Upon arriving and conducting a through search of the area and speaking with building security personnel I was assured that there was no call for service and that it had been a misrouting by patrol dispatch. Approximately 2030 I exited the plaza and headed back to my patrol vehicle upon entering my patrol vehicle and shifting into gear the body of one of the suspects impacted the hood of my patrol vehicle. At that point I came under automatic high caliber weapons fire coming from the upper levels of the building; during this time I reversed my patrol vehicle to remove myself from the line of fire totaling my patrol vehicle off of the side of a parking embankment.
Officers arrived at the scene approximately 2045 to provide assistance and we established a security perimeter and requested SWAT units and Federal assistance.
I was able to establish radio communications with the complainant inside Nakatomi Plaza 2, the subject seemed to be a police office however he was not from our jurisdiction as he did not use California Penal Code references when transmitting. Complainant gave location and approximate number of hostages and the amount of plastic explosives, automatic weapons, and rockets. Complainant identified himself as ‘Roy’.
Deputy Chief of Police Dwayne Robinson and Mobile Emergency Operations arrived on scene and took command from there.
| MPD REPORT #157225 - Page 2
Suspect: "Gammatron" Age: Undetermined, appears to be early '30s. Race: Undetermined - skin is bluish in color.
Distinguishing Features: Subject wears lime unitard decorated with blue and silver lightening decals and a large letter "G" on the chest. Subject wears a similarly colored helmet and goggles that appear to be attached to his head. Subject shows remarkable physical strength and stamina.
Seargent Roark: Upon arrival at the dispatched address, 501 Pierpoint Drive, Metropolis, I observed the Suspect ("Gammatron") on top of the building at 501 Pierpont. Suspect was grasping a female about the waist with his left arm and in his right hand brandished a weapon that appeared to be a large caliber automatic pistol or ray gun. The female subject was identified by a by-stander, one (James "Jimmy" Olsen) as Lois Lane, a reporter for the Daily Planet. Olsen further advised Ms. Lane was a hostage.
At this time, I also observed several damaged vehicles in the street including an armored car on its side and the back door open. I observed two subjects dressed in "Brinks" security uniforms outside the truck who appeared injured, but not critical. I also observed a blue pickup upside down, a burning orange delivery van (owner unknown), and two sedans of undetermined color that appeared to have been thrown or launched into the 7th and 9th floors of 503 Pierpont.
A large crown had gathered and I instructed units 7 and 12 to set up a perimeter for public safety and notified dispatch to send medical services immediately. Unit 9 was assisting with the evacuation of 503 Pierpont (Metropolis Bank and Trust). 501 Pierpont is an unoccupied building under construction.
As I contacted dispatch for more crowd control units, I observed a subject arrive by air to the rooftop of 501 Pierpont. Subject was wearing a blue unitard with a large "S" on the chest and a long red cape. Subject is a white male, approximately 30 years of age, dark hair and blue eyes. Subject is unidentified at this time, but is known as "Superman." Several in the crowd identified him as Superman after some speculation about whether the flying object observed in the area immediately preceding his (?) arrival was a bird or a plane.
Subject Gammatron and Superman engaged in a verbal exchange which I could not hear, but which seemed to cause the hostage some additional distress. Following this exchange, Gammatron trained his vision in the direction of Superman and the parking garage at 503 Pierpont was struck by a blue/green beam of light originating from his eye/head area to the parking structure, which glowed red and then crumbled, subsequently crushing every car in the garage (See Officer Janaway's report for a full list of damaged vehicles and owners) and per Officer Stephen's radio transmission cutting off at least three exits to 503 Pierpont hindering evacuation efforts.
At this time, Superman leapt or jumped from the roof of 501 Pierpont to a point above Gammatron causing Gammatron to look up, the beam of light still shining from his eye/head area where it encountered a white satellite dish and was reflected back to the roof of 501 which began to glow red and shake as if an earthquake was in process. The satellite dish was part of a news van located in the street. I have no explanation for when or how the dish was moved from the street to the top of the building.
Superman then dropped the satellite dish and jumped or flew (?) toward Gammatron, grabbing Ms. Lane and flying her to 503 Pierpont's roof. At this time, the buildng at 501 began to collapse and I lost sight of Gammatron and Superman as I started an immediate evacuation of the scene. | 2015-12-14T09:57:21 | 2015-12-14T09:15:16 | 59 | 28 |
[WP] Instead of saying "Execute Order 66," Emperor Palpatine accidentally says "Execute Order 65" | All over the galaxy the clones stopped. It didn't happen at once, information takes time to travel. It started closest to Coruscant and spread from there. Some of the stronger Jedi could feel it before it happened, a disturbance in the force, a ripple in the binding power of the universe. Every clone trooper, at every station and every post received Order 65. This was the moment they had been training for, a plan years in the making. To a man each one dropped their gun and began the ritual. Their cries echoed around their surroundings, striking fear into all who heard it.
"EYYYY MACARENA!" | Palpatine fumbled for a moment with his robes. He was tired, so tired. Truth be known, the fight with the Jedi had taken a bit more out of him than he'd expected. Oh sure, he'd managed to come out on top, but he wasn't in perfect form. Pulling the communicator out, he strode forward. Now was the time. Everything that had been put in motion for centuries, the grand plan, was about to come to its ultimate climax. The destruction of the Jedi order. Thumbing the communicator, he grinned to himself as he watched the shape of one of many of his clone commanders form.
Drawing himself up, Palpatine smiled almost kindly as he spoke. "Execute order Sixty Five." He said. The clone commander looked up at him, oddly, Palpatine thought. "Are you certain chancellor?" The man questioned. Palpatine bristled and nodded. "As I said. Execute order sixty five! Do not defy me commander!"
The commander nodded at this, saluting. "As you will Chancellor." With that the communicator winked out. Turning, Palpatine strode proudly out of his offices, knowing his young apprentice was on his way to eradicate the Jedi. Stepping into his personal turbo lift, he was whisked to the senate floor. As the door opened, he found himself facing a throng of Clone troopers. Each with their weapon drawn and pointed at him. "What is the meaning of this!" Palpatine screamed, even as the troopers began to fire. Bolt after bolt struck him, and while his power in the dark side was able to sustain him from the most grievous of wounds, it couldn't stop the damage being done from being mortal. As he lay there on the floor of the lift, his mind flitted in and out of consciousness. His last thought being "I gave the wrong damn order..."
(Order 65 was one of the contingency plans, which if enacted, ordered the Clones to kill the Chancellor.) | 2016-09-06T00:10:29 | 2016-09-05T22:20:41 | 170 | 77 |
[WP] It is modern day America, but everyone speaks in Shakespearean English. You are a gamer raging out during an online multiplayer match. | "Select your hero," the voice summoned, upon this motley band of adventurers gold.
Faces flashed upon the screen; content was I, with all but one, if truth be told.
"Hanzo, wouldst thou switch to Soldier, pray tell, that victory might be more easily ours?"
"Infect thyself, thou low-apt swine," responds the bowman; the air quickly sours.
Voices erupt from all around, amongst nary a fond word for Hanzo might be found.
For naught, our efforts, in the end: for arrows, not bullets, this man resolved to send.
The gates were opened, we six did go, descending upon the quiet King's Row.
His arrows struck true, first one, then two; a field of blood the archer did sow.
He found his marks, but relent, we could not. "Change to Soldier, foul demon, or in our graves we will rot!"
"Ha!" Defied he, as one by one our foes fell. "Rot we will, then, and thou shalt see me in hell!"
The slaughter drove on. Endless, eternal, as any man sees. Yet our enemies fell, taking arrows to knees.
*Victory!* came the final voice. Wreathed in gold medals, only Hanzo rejoiced.
"Above and beyond, to platinum I go," declared the archer.
"Trust in thy team, or stay confined to gold and below." | A pox to this story I tell thee dear reader, a pox to its virtues, a pox to its name! A weary and morose tale, one of dastards and deviants and miscreants of all kinds!
I sat at my home, comfort in the hearth, feeling a delight akin to that of my childhood. The mead I had was cool to the tongue, my stomach and blood woozy on its sustain, when I loaded into a match.
"Rexxar vs Uther!"
"Let the hunt begin!" remarked Rexxar, as savage as any beast.
"I will fight with honor!" replied Uther, as noble as a human as he is. Our hands quickly flooded with cards, both of us dispatching a few like simple curs. I play my first, a simple bat of flame. I wait patiently, fire burning in my soul for what should happen next.
"Well Met!" says Uther, my heart lighting up. Polite, this duel, and I reply in manner.
"Greetings, traveler." Rexxar says, his words echoing mine like beauty. That high brightness in my heart soon dimmed, the moon of sadness eclipsing its once greatness, as Uther buffs all his cards in his hand.
"Damned!" I mutter to myself, as I strike him. Rexxar moves an arrow to the most heinous positions in his bow and; without heed or warning, delivers damage.
"Well Met!" says Uther, his words dipped with wretched smug. He plays another card, this one placing a fiendish goblin into play, aswell as buffing his hand once more!
"Oh I bite my thumb at thee," I say to myself, "you fiend of the night." Without thought, I strike Uther once more; and Rexxar repeats. Uther was beginning to suffer, and so, my delight grew. But I smiled.
"Well Met!" A warrior of holy faith descends onto the field, now stronger then any God it once knew could have imagined, upon a horse righteous of heart, protected by a shield of light itself. It ran the bat threw, without taking a scratch, declaring; "The cavalry is here!". Sweat beaded down my back. With hands of trepidation, I played another card, praying for a boar or a bear to visit me. Shadows clutched me. the wrong companion came to stay as Leokk, guardian of the sky looked at me, its strength not here, and mine, nearly all but gone.
"Well Met!" Clutched in Uther's hands was a sword most divine. It cleaved through Leokk; leaves in winter wind, and healed his wounds at the same time.
"I loathe this game!" harked my voice, "I loathe it and I do not need it!"
"Well fought, I concede," Rexxar spoke.
"Well Met!" | 2017-01-09T18:05:29 | 2017-01-09T16:00:32 | 364 | 42 |
[WP] At 14, every human gains the ability to transform into their spirit animal. Your noble family, comprised entirely of wolves, isn't happy with your transformation... | Today was my birthday, finally I was 14. I had been waiting for this my whole life. My family was a proud family of wolves, they called our family 'The Pack'.
My father was a Timber Wolf, his coat enveloped him like tar, sucking in all the light around him. My Mother became an Artic Wolf, white as snow. They were perfect opposites but made for each other.
I was worried. I did not feel like a Wolf, but I was assured I would follow the family. They wanted to make a event out of it and invited my entire family for the transformation. I knew something would go wrong.
Great. It was a full moon. This sent everyone into a frenzy. They were all in their wolf forms, howling at the moon. I got anxious. It was 11:58pm, 2 minutes to go.
Everything went quiet, it had begun. I knew it. I had been right all along. I spiritually identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People say to me that a person being a helicopter is Impossible and I’m retarded but I don’t care, I’m beautiful. I’m transforming into rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me “Apache” and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can’t accept me you’re a heliphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.
The deafening roar as my rotors began to spin up to speed drowned out the horrified howling of my family. I was finally free to be Apache.
| On my fourteenth birthday my family gathered around my bed as I awoke. 6 wolves impatiently wagged their bushy tails. They were all panting and Marcie had someone's underwear in her mouth. They waited for me to test my transformation.
They waited 'til about 5AM and then they all howled out something that faintly resembled a "Happy Birthday!" and Marcie whipped my face with the underwear.
"So Doug," said my dad, "are we ready for another wolf in the family or what?"
He stood as tall as he did as a human, more proud than he'd been for years, finally getting to see his last child transform.
I got up from my bed and bent down onto my knees excited to join them all. My fat stomach sagged to the floor and I raised my chest up to the sky, my three chest hairs protruding like an offering to the moon.
I started howling out with all of my strength and the family was going wild. Butch and Sandy wrestled with each other and barked, Grey was growling at something he imagined to be floating around the room, and Marcie had gone off into my underwear drawer to tear up the rest of the nearby stock. She'd always go after the mailman's underwear whenever he was on our street and must have been particularly restless now to go after mine.
And then it happened. My chest hairs turned white, and then more started popping up. My chest was soon filled with a circle of white, and a black ring started forming around it. Then my body grew to the size of a bean bag chair and my legs shrunk down to the length of my knee. My howling turned into a series of neighs and squeaks.
"What is this, some kind of joke, Doug?" my dad asked.
They all sat there very still for a few minutes before my downtrodden sister Marcie dropped the underwear from her mouth and transformed back to her human self. She walked off to her room with a grand disappointment, almost as grand as when she found out she wasn't allowed to transform into a wolf in the underwear section of the department store.
"This is worse than the department store!" she yelled back at the room before she entered her own.
I stand corrected.
I just sat there with a forest-sized desire to eat bamboo forming in my stomach.
Soon enough it was just me and my parents left, both in human form. I was ready for a lecture, but my mom broke down to tears and my dad consoled her on the way out of the room.
"You don't even eat meat do you Mr. Panda," said one of my brothers as he passed by the room.
I had always thought it would be great to be a wolf like the rest of them, but I'm just not the same type of person, anyways. I eat salad and I gain weight, I hate going out, especially at night, and I've always been more of a cuddly spirit.
"Pandas are excellent cuddlers if anyone wants to come back in here!" I yelled to my empty audience. No one responded. "I could use a cuddle right now!" My repeated plea went ignored.
"Time to check out the panda colony I guess!" I yelled. "Dammit," I muttered before transforming and getting back into bed. | 2017-01-21T20:40:55 | 2017-01-21T20:18:38 | 66 | 11 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya | Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin | 2017-11-05T21:44:07 | 2017-11-05T21:31:39 | 1,462 | 19 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya | Justin,
It's been a little over 3 years since you died. I still get hit with random emotions that make me burst into tears thinking about you. Both anger and sadness. I think about how things would be different if I had said or done things another way. If I had told dad you could come live with me, would you still be alive? I miss having you around for sharing stupid things off of Reddit or Imgur. I miss Netflix-ing Korean horror movies with you over Xbox Live and trying to time it just right on both of our consoles so it was like we were in the same room. You pushed me to start playing Call Of Duty which, silly as it is, has lead me to the wonderful life I have now.
I wish you could see your nephew now. He's so big and smart, and he looks so much like you that it made mom cry the last time she saw him. Your niece never got to meet you, but I will make sure she knows who you are. They both have the same defiant streak you had, which is both frustrating and heartbreaking.
Why did you have to take those drugs? I wish I had let you come down and live with me. You never would have met those shit heads that left you to die instead of calling 911. I can't say that I think about you everyday... It hurts too much. But I see you in my dreams. I always try to save you, but I never can and it hurts just as bad as when I got the call from Uncle Joe while I was at Disney World, because dad couldn't compose himself enough to talk on the phone. He has destroyed himself because you two didn't have a good relationship and it kills him that you never will now. I am afraid he will kill himself when grandma dies. She's the last person he has that needs him, now.
I don't believe in an afterlife, and neither did you. But I hope wherever you are... nowhere, or wherever people go when they die... that you aren't suffering. I love and miss you.
XXOO | 2017-11-05T21:44:07 | 2017-11-05T21:34:09 | 1,462 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | Not sure if this is more because this is what I want to tell you or what but here goes.
When I first came to this school. You where basically my first friend which then led me to becoming friends with a lot of people. However there was one person In particular I liked, a lot. One who gave me emotions I had never felt before and feelings I didn't know I had. However I didn't know much about who you liked or what your dating/romance history was and you should have told me sooner, because if only I had knew. I always had a single rule when it came to my friends and liking someone, If you've known them longer or liked them for longer than I have, i won't get in your way. She's all yours. But instead you told me you didn't like anyone, including her and so I fell, further than I ever thought I could. I tried my best to do things I've never done before, I tried my best to hide my emotions to everyone but you. But then she started to show affection for you and so did you, with or without realising it. I don't know. You kept reassuring me that you were just friends, even when everyone else told me to give up and not bother trying. But then... Then I told you about the other girl I like, not even a quarter as much though, because I could actually talk to her and do stuff with her, unlike the other. So I told you and trusted you with this just to get what I did back. You had liked her for much much longer, everything you had reassured me with, as obvious as it was, was a lie. The thing is, I know why you did this, because you told me. You didn't want to hurt me and you didn't, you never could. How could someone's best friend hurt them after all? But now after I've fallen so much and learnt all these new things, I did exactly what I said I would. I stepped back, I let you go for her and now, well soon... You'll be happy together. But now here I am, in the background as always, watching with all those feelings that do nothing but make me cry. Of course I'm happy for you, you got, not only the girl but each other. The one the other loves. But you kept one thing from me, something I know caused you pain. Watching as I tried, tried and failed. And now this, this I will keep from you, from everyone we know for no one to see but me. Ever.
I'm sorry. | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T22:02:40 | 235 | 18 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | I miss you big guy.
I miss the your terrible jokes and the attempts at accents that wound up sounding exactly the same no matter the country of origin.
I miss the quiet but fierce love of your family you had.
Most of all I miss the real dad, not the husk you became in the years leading up to your death.
I miss my belly laughing, bird loving, tinkering, absent minded dad.
I miss my dad that would always drop everything with a resigned but knowing grin to help me out of my latest batch of troublemaking.
Don't miss your cooking though :P
Miss ya big guy | Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin | 2017-11-05T22:27:41 | 2017-11-05T21:31:39 | 102 | 19 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | I miss you big guy.
I miss the your terrible jokes and the attempts at accents that wound up sounding exactly the same no matter the country of origin.
I miss the quiet but fierce love of your family you had.
Most of all I miss the real dad, not the husk you became in the years leading up to your death.
I miss my belly laughing, bird loving, tinkering, absent minded dad.
I miss my dad that would always drop everything with a resigned but knowing grin to help me out of my latest batch of troublemaking.
Don't miss your cooking though :P
Miss ya big guy | Justin,
It's been a little over 3 years since you died. I still get hit with random emotions that make me burst into tears thinking about you. Both anger and sadness. I think about how things would be different if I had said or done things another way. If I had told dad you could come live with me, would you still be alive? I miss having you around for sharing stupid things off of Reddit or Imgur. I miss Netflix-ing Korean horror movies with you over Xbox Live and trying to time it just right on both of our consoles so it was like we were in the same room. You pushed me to start playing Call Of Duty which, silly as it is, has lead me to the wonderful life I have now.
I wish you could see your nephew now. He's so big and smart, and he looks so much like you that it made mom cry the last time she saw him. Your niece never got to meet you, but I will make sure she knows who you are. They both have the same defiant streak you had, which is both frustrating and heartbreaking.
Why did you have to take those drugs? I wish I had let you come down and live with me. You never would have met those shit heads that left you to die instead of calling 911. I can't say that I think about you everyday... It hurts too much. But I see you in my dreams. I always try to save you, but I never can and it hurts just as bad as when I got the call from Uncle Joe while I was at Disney World, because dad couldn't compose himself enough to talk on the phone. He has destroyed himself because you two didn't have a good relationship and it kills him that you never will now. I am afraid he will kill himself when grandma dies. She's the last person he has that needs him, now.
I don't believe in an afterlife, and neither did you. But I hope wherever you are... nowhere, or wherever people go when they die... that you aren't suffering. I love and miss you.
XXOO | 2017-11-05T22:27:41 | 2017-11-05T21:34:09 | 102 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Scott.
I guess I took everything you did for granted. It's been really hard without you here. Your daughter still asks when you're coming to pick her up and she always gets sad when I explain to her that you can't.
She really loves you and you were a good father. She started listening to one of the books you recorded. Hearing your voice always makes her so happy. She follows along in the book like you remind her to every chapter. It's hard. I burst into tears when I heard you sound out a word you knew she'd have trouble with.
We miss you. I hope where ever you are you're not in pain anymore. | Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin | 2017-11-05T23:19:05 | 2017-11-05T21:31:39 | 58 | 19 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Scott.
I guess I took everything you did for granted. It's been really hard without you here. Your daughter still asks when you're coming to pick her up and she always gets sad when I explain to her that you can't.
She really loves you and you were a good father. She started listening to one of the books you recorded. Hearing your voice always makes her so happy. She follows along in the book like you remind her to every chapter. It's hard. I burst into tears when I heard you sound out a word you knew she'd have trouble with.
We miss you. I hope where ever you are you're not in pain anymore. | Justin,
It's been a little over 3 years since you died. I still get hit with random emotions that make me burst into tears thinking about you. Both anger and sadness. I think about how things would be different if I had said or done things another way. If I had told dad you could come live with me, would you still be alive? I miss having you around for sharing stupid things off of Reddit or Imgur. I miss Netflix-ing Korean horror movies with you over Xbox Live and trying to time it just right on both of our consoles so it was like we were in the same room. You pushed me to start playing Call Of Duty which, silly as it is, has lead me to the wonderful life I have now.
I wish you could see your nephew now. He's so big and smart, and he looks so much like you that it made mom cry the last time she saw him. Your niece never got to meet you, but I will make sure she knows who you are. They both have the same defiant streak you had, which is both frustrating and heartbreaking.
Why did you have to take those drugs? I wish I had let you come down and live with me. You never would have met those shit heads that left you to die instead of calling 911. I can't say that I think about you everyday... It hurts too much. But I see you in my dreams. I always try to save you, but I never can and it hurts just as bad as when I got the call from Uncle Joe while I was at Disney World, because dad couldn't compose himself enough to talk on the phone. He has destroyed himself because you two didn't have a good relationship and it kills him that you never will now. I am afraid he will kill himself when grandma dies. She's the last person he has that needs him, now.
I don't believe in an afterlife, and neither did you. But I hope wherever you are... nowhere, or wherever people go when they die... that you aren't suffering. I love and miss you.
XXOO | 2017-11-05T23:19:05 | 2017-11-05T21:34:09 | 58 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin | 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-05T21:31:39 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | Justin,
It's been a little over 3 years since you died. I still get hit with random emotions that make me burst into tears thinking about you. Both anger and sadness. I think about how things would be different if I had said or done things another way. If I had told dad you could come live with me, would you still be alive? I miss having you around for sharing stupid things off of Reddit or Imgur. I miss Netflix-ing Korean horror movies with you over Xbox Live and trying to time it just right on both of our consoles so it was like we were in the same room. You pushed me to start playing Call Of Duty which, silly as it is, has lead me to the wonderful life I have now.
I wish you could see your nephew now. He's so big and smart, and he looks so much like you that it made mom cry the last time she saw him. Your niece never got to meet you, but I will make sure she knows who you are. They both have the same defiant streak you had, which is both frustrating and heartbreaking.
Why did you have to take those drugs? I wish I had let you come down and live with me. You never would have met those shit heads that left you to die instead of calling 911. I can't say that I think about you everyday... It hurts too much. But I see you in my dreams. I always try to save you, but I never can and it hurts just as bad as when I got the call from Uncle Joe while I was at Disney World, because dad couldn't compose himself enough to talk on the phone. He has destroyed himself because you two didn't have a good relationship and it kills him that you never will now. I am afraid he will kill himself when grandma dies. She's the last person he has that needs him, now.
I don't believe in an afterlife, and neither did you. But I hope wherever you are... nowhere, or wherever people go when they die... that you aren't suffering. I love and miss you.
XXOO | 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-05T21:34:09 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand | Dear Pop Pop,
I miss you. It's been about 11 or 12 years since you died. I was really young at the time, so all I remember is the last few months you were alive, watching the cancer slowly eat away at your body. With each visit you got more and more frail. I didn't recognize it at the time but looking back, seeing what it was doing to my dad, your son, was almost as bad as watching you. I wish I had more memories of you, more good memories anyway. Mom and dad say you adored me, that you loved me more than life itself, but I'll never know. They tell me stories about you, how you used to take me for rides in your convertible and I loved every minute of it, if only I could remember it. If only I could remember your laugh, your smile, your voice. Sometimes my dad looks at me and says how proud you would be of me, it's hard looking at his face when he says that, I can see the pain in his eyes. I still remember the note I wrote and put in your coffin. It said 'You were a good Pop Pop.' I was a little kid at the time so that's all I could think of to say, but I think it was enough I remember putting it in that little drawer in the side of your coffin to be buried with you. I even remember wearing that Mariachi suit that had been in the family for generations, but I don't remember you. I still have that suit, it's still hanging in my closet. I look at it from time to time, and I try to remember something, anything about you but the frail old man dying of cancer, but I can't. I think my parents are right when they say you would be proud of me, I've had a steady girlfriend for almost 5 years now, her name is Hanna. I think you would like her, she's amazing. I have a steady job too, full time working with dad at the airport. I graduated high school too, two years ago, and now I'm getting ready to go to college. I'm gonna get a business degree and then learn to be an airplane mechanic, and maybe if I'm good enough I'll open my own shop, that's when the business degree is for. Well I have to go now Pop Pop, I've got work in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I miss you. | 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-05T20:37:15 | 23 | 16 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "I know of a game," said the man, finally speaking up after a long pause. Death's glare shifted, as if his bony face cocked an eyebrow. The man crossed his arms, collecting himself for the explanation. The only way to win this game was to make sure the other party lost first, after all.
"Well?" Death questioned, growing impatient. "What is it?"
Having prepared himself, the man looked up at Death, ready to win.
"Have you heard of The Game?" | My heart was pounding as I sat in the plane, staring at the map. There was just me and one other person on board. I was waiting for him to take his exit first, staring at that yellow dot. However we were almost halfway through the island, and he was still there. Panicking I decided if I jumped and went straight down I might stand a chance.
I jumped, looking straight now to the center of the island, the school I knew so well. So many good and bad times in this school with my friends. I angled for the high roof, landed, and then fell off the roof.
I looked up, and say the tip of his parachute disappear over the rooftop. He had the advantage. Panicking, I started to run. I dived into a first floor window and into a classroom. A frying pan was on the teachers desk. I picked it up sadly, knowing it would not save me.
I went to the door, checking left then right, on my turn back to the left to start my run, I heard it. A slight footstep from the stairs nearby. There it was, the bastard himself, in a yellow banana suit, shot gun pointed at my face...
BAM! It was over. I was dead. A feeling I had had many times before, but this time I knew it was forever.... Except not! DINK! The bullets hit my pan! Saving me from lethal damage. I was alive, but in my shock I did not move. It was too late, he was going to end me with the next shot.
And then it happened. He never pulled the trigger. I just stood there for a second, confused. But I realized I had to take this opportunity. I took my pan and bashed his head in. WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Brendan it's done, that ban wave we promised just rolled out. We even kicked them mid match."
"Good job intern Steve. That should keep the masses at bay for another day" | 2018-03-07T07:43:55 | 2018-03-07T07:11:15 | 251 | 17 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "Then I'll choose Tic Tac Toe!" I said confidently.
Death drew a glowing tic tac toe board suspended in mid air and grew a devilish smile. "Fine, go ahead and start", he said with a whisper of a voice.
An hour passed by, with no moves made. "Are you not going to do anything!?" Death shouted annoyed.
"Nope," I answered satisfied that I had enraged death itself. "Can't lose if you don't play," | “You got it?”
The question takes me off guard, I’m still trying to process this new info. The tall man with the black hooded cloak at the end of my bed tilted his head slightly, the scythe that rested in the crook of his arm caught the moonlight ominously.
“Sorry, this outfit does normally startles people. How’s this?”
His form shimmered and before me stood an old gentleman with immaculately manicured whiskers and a twinkle in His eye. His tweed suit with matching trilby in stark contrast to His previous outfit. He adjusted his grip on His suspiciously scythe-like curved cane.
“Ahh, less doom and gloom now. Gotta keep up appearances though,” He indicated His cane, ”So how’s that choice of game coming along?”
The question was delivered with considerably less dread attached than the previous proposition. More like that of certain playful gods from the pantheons rather than Death come to claim you.
A small whoosh of breath escaped my lips. A decision has to be made. This body of mine was considerably less spry than my younger years, and nor was my mind functioning at full capacity. What game could I choose and what chance did I have, it seemed like anything was on the table. Did I even want to win? I had lived a full life, I tried to be kind, a good person, I saw the world, I loved my family. Did I need more of that if He has decided it was my time?
Resolved, I look up at Him. He smiled broadly, a smile of a man confident in himself “What shall it be, a game of strength, of skill, or perhaps of wits?”
“A game of chance perhaps,” I responded, his smile broadening to one of pure glee.
“Now this, should be interesting.” | 2018-03-07T06:43:50 | 2018-03-07T02:57:36 | 72 | 46 |
[WP] In a world of spoken spells, the most dangerous casters are the rappers. | Gandalf looked at Saruman. Saruman looked at Gandalf.
The battle for middle-earth would be decided here. The tower seemed to tremble at the mere thought of these two masters colliding.
Gandalf raised his arms up high, his staff in his right, and began to rock his head from side to side.
"Ohh, Ohh,
Everywhere I go, people want to meet,
The wizard-who-can-rap to that mystical beat.
My lyrics and my beard both fallin' with the flow
Making ladies scream, 'oh baby let's go!'
*psh psh ckkkk psh ckkkk wikkey wikkey brrrrat!*
I be so well respected, got me resurrected
Balrog grab my leg, I said 'boy, you been rejected.'
See, the Gods they were ready, for mass suicide
If the chicks ever heard that Gandalf had died.
*psh psh ckkkk psh ckkkk* Not that I'd take any of them for my bride. *psh psh ckkkk psh ckkkk* Lone ranger, baby!
Saruman think he be a player
'Cause his mom gave him powers
But yo, check this out,
I just pounded her for hours
*This staff ain't the longest thing I'm carrying*
I get my smokes prescription
Cause you got to be sick
To have the lyrical precision
That can keep a party lit
I'm an Uruk-hai in the bedroom
Heard you're a hobbit in the sack
So while I keep on going
You're already turning back
I wish that I could stay,
But I need to take this bling
Back to mount doom
Before night sets in
Wait, how will I get there?
Dammmn.
Looks like you thought of everything.
-- Oh, wait --
What-if-the-mother-flipping-eagles took-the-mother-flipping-ring?
*psh psh ckkkk psh ckkkk wikkey wikkey brrrrat!* "
Gandalf danced the robot in reverse towards the tower's window, and fell straight out of it onto the back of a great eagle.
"See you, sucker!" yelled Gandalf as he soared past the tower. "Ha ha!"
Saruman didn't move for some time. Finally, he took a deep breath.
"What the fuck?"
| Magic was discovered by chance in now the most famous basement in the world by Abigail Faber, brat extraordinaire. Though there were many, many debates as to what it actually was (physics, chemistry, make-believe, mass-psychosis) but most people had learnt to accept magic in the modern world. There were schools to learn the stuff, fabulously expensive of course, and frantic discussion by world leaders on how to treat magic users. There had been some horrible mistakes, and sanctions had clamped down but it was not yet illegal here. There was a certain thrill to that. Throughout my life I'd always sought danger, though mostly chickened out of the bigger risks. I took a risk and married Helen, then took a bigger risk and left her. Now the only danger in my life is if I'm going to get puked on down at the *Rattling Saber*, the bar where I work.
Magic glimmered with possibility. In theory, anyone could learn it, as it was simply akin to another language. Unlike making a mistake in French or Spanish or Chinese though, there were far worse consequences for getting a spell wrong. When Faber first released magic to the masses, the news had been filled with the latest brutal mutilations, the grim photos of severed bodies and fire-scorched heads plastered across every screen and newspaper.
There was also the amazement of a spell gone right. The first magic-user I'd seen was one of the local church women singing mysterious words so beautifully, flying through the sky as if on invisible wings. I could still see the ghost-image in my head, her golden blonde hair streaming about her as she beamed high in the blue sky.
Is it any wonder really that so many people wanted to learn magic?
In all my life though, I'd never have expected it to be Steve's dream too. He was my childhood buddy, a long-time part-time criminal, construction worker, and hobbyist band member in the *Gone Wilds*. Steve was a rapper and always had been, a talent I'd been insanely jealous of in my youth but nowadays I simply enjoyed listening to the crazy sounds of the *Gone Wilds*. When Steve had come around to organise the next Battle of the Bands at the *Saber* and confided in me, I couldn't believe it.
But it was true. He was an insanely fast learner, super smart, and always had been. In front of my very eyes he rapped in this insane language, and from his lips fell gold coins that tinkled down onto the floor with a cheerful sound. Lost for words, I could only stare on as Steve began to explain, and I couldn't help but feel the same excitement of my misspent youth resurface.
---
The Battle of the Bands was a monthly event held at the *Rattling Saber* where several local bands competed to a drunk crowd into the early hours of the next day. It was stupidly fun, but tomorrow's event would have a twist no-one but myself and Steve would know about. There was word throughout the country that magic was being used not only for good but for bad. Steve, though a great and fun person to be with, was decidedly bad. And amongst the bad magices, there was competition. Somehow, in a most Steve-like way, he'd trodden on a few toes and now they were after him.
A better, more sensible person would have urged their best friend to go and hide out for a while, forgoe the competition and stay safe. But Steve and I had a history. My life was boring as shit. His wasn't. Whenever he got involved I would jump on board, and to Hell and back with the consequences.
Little did I know that in two days time, not only was my life turned upsidedown forever but the future of our little town would go up in smoke.
I dreamt that night of flaming bullets and a mighty wrath. Tomorrow was the day of the Battle, and never had I been more excited. | 2018-04-10T06:12:14 | 2018-04-10T05:56:34 | 539 | 18 |
[WP] In a world of spoken spells, the most dangerous casters are the rappers. | We are a minority, living in the lowest of Amalgaria. A long time ago, Old Trichainz taught me and two of my friends how to perform a basic spell, called The Orb of Rhyme&Rhythm. As it name betrays, it feeds out of rhythm and rhyme. The more sentences we string together with a rhyming end, the stronger it gets. Throughout our youth, we spread our knowledge, growing the amount of casters in our slum. We came up with rhymachines duels. One versus one, whoever created the fattest orb, won.
It ended up becoming a culture of sorts. As the years went by, the talent increased. In the last tournament, I lost against my friend Lil Wiz in the finals. He created an orb the size of a building, an unseen feat. I remember trembling as I heard him stringing word after word, rhyme after rhyme, watching the orb grow and grow, until it loomed over the entire crowd. What if he couldn't control it? What if that beast of a spell went loose? It would've reduced our slum to smithereens. Fortunately, he's a prodigy, but I will never understand why he tattooed his face.
A week ago, I summoned a meeting with the ten best casters--or rhymachines--of the slum. Old Trichainz had died. He'd went to the area of the rich, asking them to send us food, for the children here were starving. Emenar, the king, didn't even address him. He sent a representative instead, Notorous. We don't know what happened, but Old Trichainz appeared limping in the slum, with a sword rammed through his chest, bleeding to death, speaking his last rhyme.
"They are weak. They are greedy. They can't hold you back, radagast," he'd said. It made sense. They claimed knowledge was power, but their concept of knowledge was wrong. There is no use in knowing a wide sundry of spells, if you don't master any of them. Sure, Emenar has an incredible control over the majority of them. However, not even him can hold back a rhymachine. We are a one trick wonder, but we perform one hell of a trick.
Today, we are leaving our little compartment in this ruthless town. Today, we will rhyme our hearts out. Today, we march toward the king's castle in the name of Old Trichainz.
And we won't hold back, radagast.
--------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall for more stories :)
| Magic was discovered by chance in now the most famous basement in the world by Abigail Faber, brat extraordinaire. Though there were many, many debates as to what it actually was (physics, chemistry, make-believe, mass-psychosis) but most people had learnt to accept magic in the modern world. There were schools to learn the stuff, fabulously expensive of course, and frantic discussion by world leaders on how to treat magic users. There had been some horrible mistakes, and sanctions had clamped down but it was not yet illegal here. There was a certain thrill to that. Throughout my life I'd always sought danger, though mostly chickened out of the bigger risks. I took a risk and married Helen, then took a bigger risk and left her. Now the only danger in my life is if I'm going to get puked on down at the *Rattling Saber*, the bar where I work.
Magic glimmered with possibility. In theory, anyone could learn it, as it was simply akin to another language. Unlike making a mistake in French or Spanish or Chinese though, there were far worse consequences for getting a spell wrong. When Faber first released magic to the masses, the news had been filled with the latest brutal mutilations, the grim photos of severed bodies and fire-scorched heads plastered across every screen and newspaper.
There was also the amazement of a spell gone right. The first magic-user I'd seen was one of the local church women singing mysterious words so beautifully, flying through the sky as if on invisible wings. I could still see the ghost-image in my head, her golden blonde hair streaming about her as she beamed high in the blue sky.
Is it any wonder really that so many people wanted to learn magic?
In all my life though, I'd never have expected it to be Steve's dream too. He was my childhood buddy, a long-time part-time criminal, construction worker, and hobbyist band member in the *Gone Wilds*. Steve was a rapper and always had been, a talent I'd been insanely jealous of in my youth but nowadays I simply enjoyed listening to the crazy sounds of the *Gone Wilds*. When Steve had come around to organise the next Battle of the Bands at the *Saber* and confided in me, I couldn't believe it.
But it was true. He was an insanely fast learner, super smart, and always had been. In front of my very eyes he rapped in this insane language, and from his lips fell gold coins that tinkled down onto the floor with a cheerful sound. Lost for words, I could only stare on as Steve began to explain, and I couldn't help but feel the same excitement of my misspent youth resurface.
---
The Battle of the Bands was a monthly event held at the *Rattling Saber* where several local bands competed to a drunk crowd into the early hours of the next day. It was stupidly fun, but tomorrow's event would have a twist no-one but myself and Steve would know about. There was word throughout the country that magic was being used not only for good but for bad. Steve, though a great and fun person to be with, was decidedly bad. And amongst the bad magices, there was competition. Somehow, in a most Steve-like way, he'd trodden on a few toes and now they were after him.
A better, more sensible person would have urged their best friend to go and hide out for a while, forgoe the competition and stay safe. But Steve and I had a history. My life was boring as shit. His wasn't. Whenever he got involved I would jump on board, and to Hell and back with the consequences.
Little did I know that in two days time, not only was my life turned upsidedown forever but the future of our little town would go up in smoke.
I dreamt that night of flaming bullets and a mighty wrath. Tomorrow was the day of the Battle, and never had I been more excited. | 2018-04-10T06:45:11 | 2018-04-10T05:56:34 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] Nine out of ten dentists recommend a certain brand of toothpaste. You're the one dentist and, despite constant assassination attempts, refuse to change your mind. | "Once you go Gleck, you never go back!" The holoscreen behind the bar flickered with images of happy kids brushing their teeth, as he heard the obnoxious jingle for the millionth time. "Nine out of ten dentists recommend Gleck - now with cleaning photons!"
Alex felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Oh, what he couldn't have given for the ability to jump over the counter and smash that screen to bits.
"Hey there", said a beautiful redhead, edging closer to him. "Is this seat taken?"
She smiled at Alex, exposing her blindlngly perfect teeth. Too perfect, if you ask him.
"Actually..." said Alex. "I'm expecting someone." His eyes involuntarily traced down the shape of her breasts protruding through her red blouse.
"Oh?" the redhead raised her eyebrow. "It's okay. Just give me a minute."
She had big, pretty eyes. Alex's hand nervously cradled the phaser in his pocket. What if this was for real? Is he really going to be paranoid forever?
"Nevermind", he said. "I think I'm being stood up."
The redhead smiled again. "Listen, I know you don't know me, but I have something to tell you."
"Let me guess, you want to do somewhere private", he felt sweat roll down his forehead. "Yeah?"
"Sure, that sounds perfect", she smiled again.
No fuck it, her teeth are too perfect. She is too perfect.
"I know you supposedly don't know me", he said, pointing at the screen. "But you know how all these dentists recommend Gleck?"
"Yeah..."
"I'm the one who fucking doesn't."
Alex pulled out his phaser, and pointed it at her ample chest. People ran out screaming. The robotender behind the bar folded back into the wall. The redhead's eyes were big. Very big.
"I know what you're up to", seethed Alex. "I have a whole fucking collection of your endoskeletons in my storage."
The redhead's mouth was agape, tears streaming from her eyes. "Wait", she cried. "Listen, this is a misunderstanding-"
"Oh you're so perfect", he cackled. "You can cry now, I bet you can fuck too. What CAN'T you do? Oh yeah, you can't make me SIGN. The FUCKING. CONTRACT."
He pulled the trigger. Redhead shuddered in surprise, then looked down at the black smoking hole in her chest.
...
"I..." she whispered. "I am the 9th dent-..."
Alex's ears didn't register any sound of a blown power supply, or whirring down circuits. Instead, dark red liquid streamed down from the hole in redhead's blouse, as her eyes looked past him. Then her head fell back.
Her body slid off the barstool and crashed to the floor with a loud thud.
The phaser fell out of Alex's shaking hand, and clanked on the floor.
"Once you go Gleck, you never go back!" That noise again. Alex's eyes slowly traveled toward the holoscreen. "EIGHT out of ten dentists recommend Gleck - now with cleaning photons!"
"Eight." he whispered breathlessly, hearing sirens at the distance. It was always eight, from the moment he entered the bar. He just heard that commercial so often, he was now hearing what he wanted to hear.
He looked at the perforated corpse of the fellow rogue dentist, splayed awkwardly under his feet.
"I'm so sorry", he said. "No wonder your teeth were perfect." | Virtually every inch of the Kommen Space Colony was under constant visual and audio surveillance. Cameras hummed away tirelessly, transcribing the steady rhythm of everyday life into a trillion splices of electronic data which were flashed back to homeworld, almost two light years away. Even the faintest whisper, the subtlest gaze, could be replicated into perfect hologrammetry, ready for close examination by headquarters if they so deigned.
Virtually.
Anthea had discovered the one sector which afforded her the only semblance of privacy. A maintenance tunnel, near the loading bays which led out to alien rock. Sensors had been installed, but it appeared that they had never been brought online. She had checked too, using her access rights as a junior systems programmer. Her finger had hovered above the controls which would have escalated the matter to the attention of her superiors, but a dash of defiance had pulled her away. Besides, who would have the capacity to worry about a single tunnel when there were a million other things to worry about?
And pacing there in the tunnel, pulling her issued insulator tighter around her for comfort rather than for warmth, Anthea was glad for her choice. Then, at precisely the moment they had agreed upon, a familiar face popped up around the corner.
"I... I didn't hear you coming," Anthea said.
He was more... shrunken than she remembered. He was already stooped before, hunched over as he kept pace with the sanitation robots in the canteen. But now he seemed even more folded in upon himself, like a string of sphagetti curling inwards with moisture. He met her eyes, licked his lips, then splayed his hands out.
"My, what a surprise. I did not think anyone else was here. Have... have we met before?"
"Charles, I promise. We're alone here. No one in the entire colony can hear us. I'm sure of it."
Anthea's guess was that Charles hailed from one of the early batches of employees sent to this forsaken planet. He certainly seemed old enough, though she had not been able to gain access to his files to verify that for herself.
"I see," he said, as the tension seeped from his shoulders. "You can't blame someone for being too cautious. These days..."
"But that doesn't mean we have all the time in the world too! Tell me, tell me what you promised to share!"
"Ah... About that. Did you do as as I asked? Did you check again for contaminants?"
Anthea nodded. The request had been peculiar when she first heard it - after all, everyone knew that the planet had not yet been cleared for full compatibility with human life. That meant that full contaminant protocols were in place. The air they breathed, the food they consumed, the water they imbibed, all of it had passed through a hundred scanners before they so much as came into human contact. To date, not a single alarm had been raised.
Yet, she had trusted him.
What else could she have done?
In fact, how could she *not* have trusted him? When he was the only one in the hall to have flinched when the fight broke out between those two security guards, when everyone else had instead just laughed and clapped along? When he came right up next to her, pulling her away from the rest before she could scream, telling her to keep quiet lest they realise she was not like the rest of them?
"I did, and..."
Charles smiled in the dimness. "It was your toothpaste, wasn't it? Smuggled back from earth, instead of the standard issues they provide at the pharmacy here?"
"Yes. That is the only thing in my... Diet... Which is different from everyone else's."
"And what did the results of your next scan show?"
"Nothing... I scanned it and it showed-"
"Not the toothpaste from earth, idiot. The stuff they give out. Did you scan those? Did you see the readings?"
Anthea's heart sunk at the implication. How could she not have thought of that?
"So you're saying that there's... Something in the toothpaste that they are giving us?"
A distant bell tolled, and Charles turned to leave.
"Come again in two days' time," he said. "Shift's starting, and they will get suspicious if we stay off grid for too long. But listen here, Anthea. Scan the stuff, record what you find, *but don't tell anyone*. Erase the scan logs if you have to. If they find out that you know, they'll deport you in seconds."
"They? You mean the company? But Kommen... They can't do this to us, they can't-"
Charles lifted his shirt, and where she expected to see pale flesh, there was instead the homogenous sheen of plated metal, a singular band around his midriff.
"They damn tore me in half when they realised I knew. Patched myself back, just almost. Remember, two days. And bring the results."
Then he was gone.
/r/rarelyfunny | 2018-04-30T00:45:58 | 2018-04-29T22:42:25 | 87 | 29 |
[WP] You die, and at the pearly gates it is explained to you that your "personal heaven" is the game that you have the most hours in. | "So my personal heaven is the gaming world I spent the most time playing?" I asked, the doubt clear in my voice.
"Yes my child." the old man, whom I assumed was St. Peter, answered me. "It's the world in which you spent the most time, got so immersively lost in that, for a brief time, it became your reality. We wipe your memory so you can experience everything new."
"That's.....not going to end so well." I replied.
"Nonesense my son. This system has worked well for decades now."
"No, really, you need to rethink......" I tried to interject. St. Peter again overode my objections.
"Now let's log into your Steam account and see what game you have the most hours in.....oh my." His eyes went wide.
"I told you." I shrugged.
"Civilization 5......" Peter said, his voice a bit breathless.
"Yeah."
"But....this is going to involve time travel, leader changes.....shit..." I didn't think Heavenly agents were supposed to swear "...we're going to have to rewrite the death concept. These leaders live forever! The entire system will need an overhaul...." The old guy was getting more agitated now. I hade an idle thought about strokes, but quickly decided anyone in the afterlife was probably beyond such concerns.
"St. Peter....." The old man looked up at me. "You might want to wait to rewrite the world and send us all together."
His eyes widened. "Ho....how many more are like you?"
"A lot. A whole lot."
| I spent a lot of time playing video games. Hell, it took up the majority of the time in my young adult life. I put on weight. I grew more and more accustomed to the easy life of my swivel chair and the glaring monitor in front of me.
I died of a heart attack. I'd grown incredibly fat, and I'd sworn to shed the pounds, but nothing I could have done would have saved me. It wasn't the weight that killed me-- I spent years shedding the pounds between playing video games until I was finally a healthy weight. No, it was something a hereditary heart condition, one my father had had, and his father before that. There was nothing I could do. I lived alone. No-one was around to help me when it happened.
Everything went dark.
I woke up on the shore, but I don't know how I got there. I crawled across the sand for a moment, rolled onto my back, and stared up at the dark sky overhead. The wreckage of a ship was strewn all around me. I slowly sat up and stared out onto the sea, it's waves lapping against the shore.
I heard a groan to my right and turned, seeing a man resting against a large rock, a hand clutching his stomach. I crawled over, his eyes bulging. Immediately, I asked if he was okay. Sure, I didn't know where I was, but he was hurt!
"Bastards dumped near two dozen of us off that ship," The man coughed violently, staring at me with lidded eyes. "You and me, we're all that survived the swim. Never was much difference between Exile and the death sentence."
I felt my breath catch in my throat. Next to him lay a corpse, still and unmoving, and I resisted the urge to vomit. I, surprisingly, was unscathed, though my muscles ached for rest.
"Once I catch my breath here we'll take a look around," He continued. "See what Wraeclast has on offer. Thought I saw smoke at those ruins up the beach. Could be worth checking if there's-"
He stopped mid-sentence as the once unmoving corpse to his left suddenly lurched up and lunged forwards, grasping him by the neck and sinking it's teeth into his flesh. It ripped at it's jugular and I scrabbled back, terrified. I turned and quickly grabbed a sword I saw in the dirt. It shambled towards me. I swung the blade and found that I hit my mark with surprising accuracy. It staggered and stumbled, before falling backwards. It was still once more.
I tilted my head back, stared out in front of me. I could see a volcano in the distance, and beyond the stretch of sand, a small village. I knew where I was now. When I died, it must have transported me to my personal heaven.
But this isn't heaven. This is hell. Fuck, not even that.
This is *Wraeclast.* | 2018-07-09T07:40:57 | 2018-07-09T07:00:29 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You live a good life. Caring wife, obedient children and loyal dogs. Little do they know that you are actually a hitman not an accountant. One day your guy hands you the picture of your next target. It’s you. On the back the name of who ordered the hit. “Carla” it says. Your wife. | James Earl walked in to his office on 8:59 AM and placed his briefcase on the floor next to his desk. His floor to ceiling windows gave James a great view of Manhattan. His firm had taken the offices of an old accounting firm to maintain cover. There were only five offices the firm had spread around the world. One was in London, another in Karachi, one in Beijing, one in LA and the largest one was in New York City, where James worked.
James, simply put, was the best at his job. He was tough, efficient, and never left a trace. He was an experienced killer, but by no means a psychopath. He was the product of being raised in the 90s in Brooklyn. His first body was when he was 16. He disposed of it so efficiently that the NYPD never knew the man was dead. The path his childhood took him on lead him to this.
James’ wife was Carla Earl, 35, and a nurse in St Mary’s Hospital. She was beautiful and made James feel happiness that he had never felt before meeting her.
He also had three children he loved more than anything in the world. They were triplets, the daughters were identical and the son was not. All three were in high school. His daughters, Lily and Samantha were in Brooklyn Tech and his son, Christopher was in Stuyvesant
James smiled as he looked at the picture of his family, then placed it back on his desk. He sat on his chair and stared at the computer. He opened an unread e-mail from his boss, Robert Meyers. He was an old white man, a legend in his own day, but forced to retire when he realized he was too old. He started the firm from the ground up with his partner, starting in New York and expanding immensely in the past two and a half decades.
*Theres a new assignment for you: priority. There’s a lot of cash involved, 1.25 mill. Only one target, not even high profile. Manila folder on your desk*.
James opened the folder and pulled out the documents before he glanced at the picture; it was important to know your target before they became one. James started reading the file, and something struck him as odd; the entire file was *his* cover. Adult male, 37, black 5’11”, an accountant in Manhattan, three children, married. The only thing different was his name. It read John Grey
James quickly snatched the photo of the target; it was his wedding photo with a giant red circle on his face.
James’ vision started to get blurry, his head felt light and he could hear his heart beating.
*“What’s going on?”* he thought to himself.
James put down the photo and looked into the file to see who ordered the hit. His breathing started to get shallow and quick; he was hyperventilating.
*Client name: Carla Earl*
James ran out of his office and into the restrooms, and ran into a stall. The disgusting smell and the burning in his throat ate away at him, but could not eat away at one thought.
* My wife wants me dead.*
He felt a wave of emotions so diverse he could not describe what he felt. Sadness, anger, hurt, guilt, remorse...
Overall, he felt shitty. He washed his face and walked back to his office. He was confused and hurt. He was never abusive, he never cheated, and he never under appreciated his wife. Their love was as strong as ever, and the sex was as good as ever.
He picked up the file and the photo and tucked it under his arm. He walked in to the only office larger than his; the boss. He ran the whole operation, from Los Angeles to Beijing. He signed the paycheck, sent teams and assigned leaders; everything went by him. He was also, at the moment, in a meeting with the team leader in London on FaceTime. James did not care. He walked into the office and slammed the bosses laptop shut.
“What the actual *fuck* do you think you’re doing?” Robert screamed as his face turned an ugly shade of red.
James had pinpointed his emotions finally; it was anger. His eyes were red, his face contorted and he was biting on his tongue so hard he tasted blood. James threw the file on the desk.
“You think this is fucking funny? Who approved this assignment? I’ll fucking kill them.”
Robert’s face regained its normal lack of color as he calmed down, and looked at the file. As soon as he saw the photo, he leaned back into his chair. Robert held his head in confusion. He let out a huff of air and set down the photo.
“Who’s the client?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Carla Earl.” James let out.
“Earl?” Robert asked in a confused tone, “a family member wants you dead? Who? Your sister, daughter, mother or cousin or something?”
James let out and angry growl. “My wife.”
Robert folded his arms around his waist and looked at James with a stare that could pierce his soul.
“Do you have any idea why?” the boss asked.
“Absolutely none, sir. I’ve never hit her, I’ve never cheated. I don’t know what happened. I’ve made mistakes, I’m not perfect, but I don’t know why she’d want me dead.”
“How did this get through the vetting process? It shouldn’t be possible for someone to put a hit out on one of my own assassins,” Robert mulled.
“I don’t know sir. The name has been changed, but the story is still mine. It’s possible that it’s because the vetting team doesn’t know me personally, but it’s definitely strange.”
“Well, we’ll need to review the vetting process, then.”
James sighed. “Should I get on that?”
“No, you take the day to go home and find out. Normally I wouldn’t give anyone a day off, but this” Robert chuckled, tapping the file “this is certainly an exception.”
“Sure thing, sir.” James said. “Uh, can I... get the file?”
Robert handed it to him, and James walked briskly out of the office.
James stepped outside of the building and lit a cigarette, and walked seven blocks to his car; parking in Manhattan was impossible. He threw the file into the passengers seat of his Maserati, and drove home. | I'm comfortably sunk in the worn leather seats of my older-but-still-practical German sedan. The lid on my morning coffee is propped open and I watch anxiously as the piping hot liquid inside the flimsy paper cup that holds the best coffee the road has to offer topples, getting closer and closer to the brim of the cup as road worsens the closer I get to Los Angeles. Before the coffee has sufficiently cooled to the point I can put the lid back on, the first drop of Seattle's Best makes its journey to the base of the most practical pull-out cupholder BMW could think of in 2008. At this point the air-conditioning is just not strong enough to withstand Southern California's ever-so-powerful UV rays beaming in from the windows and cool a way-too-hot cup of bad coffee with the lid intact, so this is a necessary evil.
Financial freedom and no more necessary business trips for Deloitte? Or cooler coffee and an incarcerated father that can even be more absent to his children that he currently is? What would your choice be?
The cruise control is set at 75 MPH, fast enough to blend in but not fast enough to catch the attention of the police. The lull of the road in combination with the fatigue of driving what has now been seven hours can allow even a hitman to fall into a sense of apathy for a little while. Thoughts of what I can cook up for our fifth anniversary are on the horizon. Hawaii? Unfortunately it is easiest to catch someone off-guard when they are on vacation. The Caribbean? Same idea. Europe? Was there last week and unfortunately it wasn't for leisure. Southeast Asia? Haven't done anything in Thailand yet so that's still on the table.
As I contemplate my anniversary and have thoughts that might not be particularly unique to a hitman, I creep up bit by bit in the rightmost lane and find my exit, "Sawtelle Boulevard". Tito's Taco's seems to be the place of choice for providing sound business advice to yet another multimillion dollar tech-startup. Guess us millennials are getting less and less formal with our lunches. Guess it's the advice that matters, not the venue.
As I push my door closed and walk into the establishment, everything is a blur. Uncle X walks by my table for one, plops down a picture and continues his walk without even seeming to acknowledge my presence. My phone vibrates. I turn it over and see a picture of Carla, Stella, Tyler and Rufus by the house that I took. It's Carla. I don't even look at the picture and pick up the phone. I can't bare the anticipation of personifying the last person behind the last portrait I will ever see and beginning the last process of dehumanization before I am able to live the rest of my life and focus on raising our family, so I try and hurry the last dishonest interaction regarding my career I will ever have with the person that thinks they know the most about me.
"Hey what's up? I'm on my way into a meeting and don't really have the time to talk so can you make it quick babe?" I blurt out not even giving her a chance to start the diologue.
"Yeah......... Well.... I just couldn't wait". She says, before a long pause and a sniffle.
My heart drops.
"We might just have another addition to the family! I didn't get my period this month and decided to take a test! So yeah! Guess what it came up as!"
My head drops. My heart starts to race and so does my breathing. It's fascinating how some things can make a man can crack a smile right before setting off to take a life of yet another person that hasn't personally wronged them one bit.
"Wow. I'm so happy to hear that and cannot wait to talk about this tonight. And we can do this one together too! It's so crazy that we happen to be in the same place this time!" I say, not having to fake happiness for once during an inopportune conversation with the SO but actually feeling it for a split second.
"Yeah! Anyway, I love you! Hopefully that lightens your day!" she says, the emotions eminating through the phone speaker.
The line cuts. I place my phone down on the greasy table and raise the picture to my field of vision.
Of course the last task has to be the hardest one. This woman looks just like my wife.
I can see she has mesmerizing blue eyes that could charm a stone and focus the freest of spirits. A small, effiminate nose. Plump lips that meet perfectly at the top like a cupid's bow, lips parted in a way that makes me wait for speech that will never come. Sun-kissed skin that suggest an childhood in a warm climate and perhaps the later years somewhere cooler. I imagine a modest home, two children and a golden retriever adopted from the local animal shelter. Before that, just two young adults having passionate yet lustful, raw, rough sex after a night stocked up on the kind of three dollar shots sold by a bar that would accept what would have to be the worst Fake IDs San Fransisco State has ever seen. An intense, exciting, painful relationship that leaves both parties integrated and makes each other grow more than any degree could. But not safeguarded from some time apart after graduation so we could find our own paths........... only to get back together for coffee one day.
Stop it. Stop the connection. This one cant get to you. Just flip the fucking picture over and get the full name. Fucking Christ.
"CARLA"
Fuck. That asshole wouldn't make me leave the business. The minute I find a number that I can comfortable rely on to retire early and try to get him to come to terms, I get this. Of course. Guess I'm not leaving. Or maybe I am. It's not like I can't pack up and start over again. At least I won't have to hide a life of criminality from my new family.
Guess the good things in life come with a clause. It's just that this one happens to be particularly tenacious.
I finish the last bite of my Chicken Tamale and get up calmly. Stretch and walk out the door, quickening my pace. I spot Uncle X. Perhaps I should have a couple words with him about this? No. He knows what he did. I hop in the car, release the handbrake and coast out of the parking spot, turning on the engine and putting the car into first gear only as the sedan is already backed out of the parking space that is now perpendicular to where I sit. I keep my vision fixed on Uncle X. The engine bogs and I lurch foward.
Fuck. Come on, focus you idiot. 15 years of exclusively manual and this?
I restart the car and head for the exit. I hit the accelerator and skip to third, ensuring high speeds and little noise. I reach into the nook in my car door and feel for cold metal. I grasp the first object I find, roll down the window with the other hand and the vehicle veers to the right. I stare at Uncle X and fall into a trance an eternity. I point the gun out the window and pull the trigger before the car veers too far right to have a proper aim. Uncle X drops to the ground. The gun cocks back and injures my nose. My eyes water and before I can refocus, there is impact.
I wake up after what seems like years of sleep and cough a mouthful of warm blood. Look up to a misty window and dust settling on my forehead and the hood of my car at a 90 degree angle. As I wrestle the door handle to free myself and clock out for the last time, the tables turn and now I am staring down the barrel of a gun of a man. I angle my head up and notice "San Fransisco Police Dept." and see a man in uniform. | 2018-08-15T00:15:24 | 2018-08-14T22:17:00 | 160 | 11 |
[WP] On one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING. | 'How...how is this possibe?'
The supervillain clutched at his broken arm and fell to the floor. He tried his best to back away from the advancing man, but he was spent. His workshop and maniacal contraptions burned around him. So much preparation, so much work. He was so certain his plan was going to work, now it all lay in ruins. All that exquisite planning and years of preparation gone to waste.
He looked upon the man who was about to vanquish him. There was nothing remarkable about him. In fact, he just looked like a balding middle age man. He wasn't even in particularly good shape. He couldn't understand how he was losing.
&#x200B;
The man continued to advance on him, fists clenched.
&#x200B;
'How? Who are you? You're a nobody! This...this shouldn't be happening...'
&#x200B;
The advancing man stopped and knelt down besides the stricken supervillain.
&#x200B;
'Me? I'm just your average guy, to a fault. Unfortunately for you though, you're a brilliant and talented individual, maybe the most brilliant person on the planet.'
&#x200B;
The villain couldn't hide his confusion.
&#x200B;
'I...I don't understand' was all he could muster.
&#x200B;
'That's the thing about averages.' The man said, cracking his knuckles. 'Major outliers throw the whole system out. And you, my friend, are a major outlier.'
&#x200B;
The man smiled to himself.
&#x200B;
'I may seem average to you, I can't compare to your brilliance in some areas... but your mere existence makes me so much more than most. In other words, I have none of your weaknesses.'
&#x200B;
The villain exhaled, he had no more fight left in him. He supposed that was one of his weaknesses when things weren't going his way. He managed a weak laugh.
&#x200B;
'It'll be a shame to kill you. I've enjoyed the gifts you've bestowed upon me, but you're just too dangerous to let live'.
&#x200B;
The man raised his fist and the world went dark. | My best friend once called me and told me how jealous he was of my talents. What talents? I could never really put my finger on it if they existed, and I spent years trying to see what he saw. Maybe he meant the time I used to play in a band. We called ourselves, “We Ate the Fish”. Looking back that was a stupid band name.
And I’m the one who came up with it…
I was the lead singer in the band, and I also played the rhythm guitar. But between work and the band it was tough. Not to mention our dedicated practicing space was a storage unit. The band didn't last long, it ended after practice on a hot summer day. Sweat was running down all our faces and man-musk burning my nose hairs. The lead guitars packed up and said, “I can’t do this anymore guys.”
I take no offense he said ‘guys’, but come on…
I’m a girl, he could have gave me some credit.
After that, he left, and so did everyone else. A couple of days later though, I saw him on his social media page jamming out with a new band in the same storage unit as the old one. It was an entirely new group of people, so I guess… he just decided to abandon us.
I’m not mad though.
But fuck you too, dude.
Though listening to our bands original songs, I could say they were average at best.
I doubt the band is what my bestie was talking about. Maybe he meant that time I was part of this TCG team. I hate Trading Card Games, but I was a huge fan of the show the card game was based on. So I played it. I got called a nerd often for it. Our team participated in many of the regional tournaments and the team captain was amazing at the game. Not to mention she was just as much a fan of the show as I was.
During one of the Spring regionals, she snapped on me. I had been building my decks similar to the tv show decks and that didn’t sit well with her when she found out. We were outside of the tournament participant entrance, and she pulled me to the side where people typically smoke at. You could tell because of all the cigarette buds sticking out of the ashtray on top the trash can.
“Are You F-ing kidding me? You’re using a F-ing vanilla TV deck!” She said, trying hard not to be vulgar. Yet how often she uses ‘F-ing’, she might as well just say the word.
“I’ve always been using an F-ing… I mean, a vanilla TV deck.” Is what I said.
She rolled her eyes, then pushed me. I stumbled, bumped into the trash can, and fell over with it. I could feel everyone’s eyes turning to look at me as I crashed. However, they either entered the building or kept talking in their little groups. No one cared to help. But whatever. The captain already went inside, leaving me to clean up the mess. I had ash in my hair, under my finger nails, and the stench of garbage lingering with me everywhere.
I didn’t let it get to me, this was pretty much an average day for me.
Besides being bullied.
More so my day just being garbage.
After a couple of matches, I placed third in the tournament using my “vanilla TV deck” while the team captain, well… she lost in her first match of the tournament. Not going to brag about placing third though, I still didn’t get picked to go to Nationals and our team started going through some changes so I left.
Never to play card games again.
I don’t do much else except cooking, cleaning, drawing, writing, making music, reading, making cosplay, playing video games, playing badminton, soccer, baseball, golf, and talking with animals. But I’m only average at best in all of those things. I don’t see what my friend sees in me…
I really don't. | 2018-10-24T08:09:35 | 2018-10-24T07:46:45 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] The worst part about being shot in the head? The headache. The second worst part? Explaining to everyone why you can't die... | AH! You'd think after fighting through 27 wars in 2000 years, I'd be used to pain, but no. The bullet richochets off something important as I drop.
The mugger, just some dumb kid trying to feed his family looks terrified. I can tell this is the first time he's shot someone. The store owner freezes, hand already reaching for the button.
Motor functions return first. I stand slowly. I raise my hands and smile as the bullet wounds closes.
"<Calm down everyone!>" I demand, then wince. Ancient Hebrew. Of course it is. I always defect back to my original language when wounded.
"How.......how are you still alive?" The kid asks, dropping the gun in shock.
I sigh. "It's a long story, that began on a Friday, on the road to Calvary. Let's just say, I chose the wrong prisoner to mock...."
| Uuugh. Fuck. Sonofabitch pulled the trigger before I could get to him. Somebody taught him the damn Mozambique Drill, too. Most thugs go center mass, but after two in my vest he switched it up and went for the dome, like they teach. Joke's on him, though.
Ohh, this is way past Excedrin right now. Shit. Aaaaand...witnesses. Double shit. Hot blonde chick, too.
"Ok everybody, I can explain, he, he actually just grazed me. It's not half as bad as it looks."
"Uh yeah, two things. Number one, you're a fucking hero. And number two, I can read the traffic sign behind you THROUGH your forehead, so no, I'd say it is exactly as bad as it looks."
"Uh--"
"Actually, make that three things. Welcome to the club."
"Club?"
The hot blonde is joined by three men. How these three dudes are with this girl, I have no idea. One has got three day stubble under the meanest case of lazy eye I have ever seen, but he hangs back. The second strides forward, his own face covered by a red balaclava with black diamond eye accents. The last one, I WISH he was wearing a balaclava. His face looks even more fucked up than--
"Thuh soh ih da ead ero cub!"
Oh god. That was the third guy, and watching a mouth with no lips try to enunciate was something I did NOT NEED right now.
"I'm sorry, what?"
The red balaclava man reaches up and puts his finger in the bullet hole, admiring it.
"Sh sh sh sh. No need to explain to us. What he said was, 'The shot in the head hero club', and you just passed the entrance exam. Hi."
"Who the hell are you?"
"OH of course. Sorry. I'm Wade Wilson. The guy who can stand lookout in two directions at once is Jack Jeebs. the guy who had to give up on a promising career as a trombonist--"
"UHHHHHCKK OOOO!"
"Is Eugene, and the talent scout is Beatrix Kiddo. Welcome."
| 2018-11-25T22:13:29 | 2018-11-25T21:01:44 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] You've accidentally killed three super-villains. Now the FBI thinks you're the next big superhero, and all the superheroes, who know you aren't, think you're the next big super-villain vying for territory. | Fate is a curious thing.
If you had told me a month ago that I'd be standing in the center of a brewing war, I'd have called you crazy. Hell, I still feel a bit crazy.
It was just over a month ago when it all started. I was minding my own business, shopping at the grocery store. A young man walked down the aisle wearing a bright green getup. I thought it was odd—but hey, we lived in the city. Odd people are pretty much the rule here, not the exception.
Anyway, the young man was struggling to reach the top shelf—he was maybe 5'5"—so I did the neighborly thing and helped him out. I'll be darned if he didn't get so indignant at me for trying to help that he had a heart attack! I always tell people, if you get so worked up over the little things you're bound to have a heart attack! People never stop to stay calm; it's like they just see red and have no control over themselves. Anyway, I called an ambulance and tried to do CPR, but it was too late.
I felt bad for the young man, but apparently he was a bit of a bad man. He'd been responsible for a mass killing a few weeks back. I always say that you get what's coming to you.
The very next week I was at the bank looking to make a small deposit—my daughter had sent me a bit of money in the mail, God bless her. I was next in line when a group of men wearing clown costumes thundered their way into the bank! They were robbing it! I was scandalized, let me tell you. Anyway, they yelled for everyone to get on the ground and shut up—such rude language. Now, as for me, I'm not as young as I once was. I really couldn't get to the ground without hurting my hip—I recently had it replaced and being that it's winter, it just hurts like the dickens. I tried to tell those young men that I'd just need some help laying down. They didn't like that one bit. As one man they pointed their guns at me. The next thing I knew, they were firing at me! They were going to shoot me down in cold blood. I honestly don't know how, but they all missed! Somehow the bullets all found their way back to the young men in the clown masks. Each and every one of them had shot out their own eye. I hate to say I told you so, but I've been warning people about that for years. Young people never listen.
Next thing I knew, I was being questioned by the FBI. They seemed to think I had super powers. I just laughed and told them about my rather ordinary life—outside of this last week, it was downright dull! Eventually they let me leave with a lot of knowing winks and patronizing nods. I think they thought they were privy to some secret. Foolish kids.
Now I know the story would be stranger than fiction if I just let it end there, but the story isn't over! Just two weeks back I had decided to drop by an art gallery to see my grand-daughter's exhibit there. It was all the way downtown and a hell of a trip to make on a bad hip like mine. I wanted to see my Annie's art work all displayed on the walls though. Honestly, I get a bit choked up thinking about the next bit...
I was sitting down, admiring a canvas with about three hundred shades of grey—part of this so called modern art I've been hearing about—when a burly gentleman kicked open the door holding a sword. He pointed the thing at me, saying something about "The guild wanting revenge." Strangest thing I'd heard, though I guess I understand now...
Anyway, the man came running at me like a linebacker, waving his sword about like a crazed kid with a toy. He tripped and fell a foot in front of me. I tell you, that grey painting had a lot more color after he was done spraying blood all over the place.
You know, I always told people not to run with knives or scissors. He proved my point.
After that mess, I was hailed as the greatest hero of our time. Apparently that man had been responsible for the deaths of a dozen heroes in the last three years. Me? I don't know about that. But they call me "The Grandad," and I think I like that.
I think I may play along with this for the next couple years. Everyone needs some good grandfatherly advice now and again. Especially these heroes and villains.
__________________________
/r/SirLemoncakes | Bang, bang, bang. The gun speaks three distinct times. I am frozen like a statue holding my gun watching their bodies fall in slow motion. Alarms are blaring, the bank vault is still wide open. I collapse in the chair as the police arrive. The primary detective, a woman in her forties wearing a pantsuit, approaches me.
“Hello sir, I am Detective Moro. Can you describe the events of the night?” I look up to see her eyes piercing me.
“I killed them.” I reply.
“What?” She asks in shock.
“I heard the alarm. I saw the costumes. Then, I shot them.” I state.
“Sir, you do realize that this qualifies as a confession?” She asks. I nod. She arrests me and posts me in jail. The guards congratulate me for shooting the villains. The public defender is the first to meet with me.
“Mr. Smith, I am your public defender Michael Murray. You are being tried for the murder of the villains known as Gea, Fuego, and Venta better know as part of the four elements gang. Now, security footage shows that you found them robbing the bank and shot them. The good news, they are known supervillains that have committed ten homicides. It is possible that we can have you off on self-defense by using Statue 331 .” He explains.
“Cape Panic, don’t they hate that status?” I reply.
“Yes well, we need some way to defend ourselves against literal gods.” He smiles.
“I will think about it.” I monotonously say.
“Oh, the FBI is also here. As your lawyer, I can sit in on it.” He says.
“Go ahead.” Two agents, a red-headed woman and a blond man walk in wearing tailored suits.
“Mr. Smith, we would like to welcome you to the Praetor Group. You should be so proud some people take months to get into the group.” The woman says.
“The Praetor Group.” Michael says in shock, “I think there has been a mistake. My client does not have super powers on file and killed them by accident.”
“Super powers are not a requirement. He killed three villains which gains automatic entry.” The woman explains.
“But what if he does not want to join?” My lawyer asks “what if the heroes don’t like him?”
“Their opinion does not matter. Besides, this guarantees no jail time. Additionally, Agua will want revenge, and she is still out there.” The man looks at me. “What do you say?”
I need to think about this overnight. My jail cell is cold and lonely. The guards like me, but the other prisoners fear me. Even though I am powerless. I am out in the special containment unit. Everyone in the room falls asleep suddenly. Three figures stand in front of me. The man in the center is wearing a slim red outfit that covers his hole body and face. The woman to the side is wearing a white gown and cloak. The man on the other side is dressed in a blue ninja suit. Maroon Knight, Lucid Dreamer, and Dark Ninja.
“Who are you Mr. Smith.” Maroon Knight interrogates.
“Just a man.” I reply.
“A man who killed three villains. A likely story. Now, you are going to use Cape Panic to ensure your freedom. You are a new super villain aren’t you.” He says.
“No, I was just scared.” I reply.
“Lucid?” He asks.
“I cannot seem to get a read on him.” She says.
The pipe in the ceiling starts to drip.
“You are a villain. Do not join the Praetor Group.” The puddle gets larger. “You can get off on defense, but we will be watching.”
A fist emerges from the puddle and strikes Lucid Dreamer. A woman with white hair wearing a blue full body swimsuit emerges from the puddle.
“Agua.” Maroon Knight says as he tries to punch her, but her body becomes water and his punch fails to connect. She becomes a ball of water and engulfs him in an attempt to drown him. Dark Ninja teleports into the water. Then out of the water with Maroon Knight. Lucid Dreamer gets up and places a hand on her temple to subdue Agua. Agua realizes this and uses a water whip to knock Lucid Dreamer down again. Maroon Knight nods to Dark Ninja. Dark Ninja opens my chamber while Maroon Knight runs at Agua. Dark Ninja teleports in. Maroon Knight hits a button on his belt releasing a cold blast. Dark Ninja teleports me to the roof of the building. Dark Ninja takes off his mask to reveal him as my lawyer.
“You are not safe anymore.” He growls.
“I know that now. Why is this happening? I am just a security guard. I am not even done with my first week on the job.” I reply.
“Maroon Knight will ensure that Agua is handled.” A beep emerges from his watch. He checks it and sighs. “Maroon Knight died. Lucid Dreamer is incapacitated. Agua is frozen. I told them we needed to bring a heavy hitter capable of handling her.”
“Why were you trying to help me as a lawyer?” I ask.
“I didn’t want to. It is my day job, but it did give me an opportunity to analyze you.” He says.
“And what do you think?” I ask nervously.
“That you’re just a man thrown into a grave situation.” He says.
“Well, what now.” I ask.
“Well, you have two options. One, you go back to the cell and live the rest of your life in fear. The super villain community will get revenge, or you come with me. You will not join the Praetor Group yet. You will be trained though to defend yourself and others.” He says.
I am taken aback in shock. The idea of being a superhero is so foreign to me. How could I survive? Well, if I don’t join, I could still die. At least this way, I can fight.
“Alright, I will train with you.”
| 2019-02-07T08:39:32 | 2019-02-07T07:59:29 | 2,185 | 44 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | "How many have we lost so far?" Growled General Barkler, as he stared at the great blue orb sitting in space. He had been ordered to fetch this world and its spoils, but it was not coming easily. It may as well be inside the neighbor's fence.
"The tally is in the tens of millions, sir. But it's worse than that." The first officer's frowning face of fur was furrowed in a furious fit of frustration. "They've actually started *breeding* the ones they've captured. Losses are expected to continue to grow exponentially."
"All right. Patch me through to home command so I can beg for permission to leave."
The holographic screen blinked up in the middle of the room. The three faces of the Poodle Presidency Pact displaying in a beautiful array of grays. Princess Primbottom addressed her military commander.
"General! We were getting worried, we haven't received any reports. Have you enslaved the humans yet?"
Barkler was not expecting to feel quite so ashamed. He actually started *whining*. How undignfied! In front of his officers, the crew, and the PPP! He curled his tail between his legs and could not have looked more pitiful.
"I take it things have not gone well." Prince Puffyface noted. "Please, general, give us the report. Sit. Speak."
Barkler placed his rear end on the floor, lifted his head as high as his little legs would allow, took a deep breath, and gave a bark to regain his composure.
"Pristine Personelle of the Poodle Presidency Pact, here is my report."
"On starship date 2078 the Rover Squadron arrived to earth. We descended with our most elite troops as our frontal invasion force. Their mission was just as it was on all other planets, find the inhabitants, enter their homes, demand food and constant playtimes, jump on their furniture, shed everywhere possible, bark at strangers, and excrete waste in their yards.
As expected, we were met with little resistance. What was unexpected was that these aliens... these Hyew-mans... actually enjoyed it! They happily take them in, walk them every day, throw balls or sticks for hours in games of fetch, even training them to do things we previously had thought too cruel! Even our oldest veterans have returned with some new tricks!
We've jumped on them and all their friends, barked incessantly, slobbered all over their faces, and in return they give them fancy collars and then pick up any messes produced. Even when we destroy their furniture or eat their foot coverings they just continue to reciprocate some kind of strange emotion... love they call it!
It has gotten bad enough that our troops are refusing to come back. They willingly submit themselves to these aliens, calling them their new masters. I've lost more men than I can count. I'll have the battle statist send you a complete report of the numbers."
There was silence over the call. The general began to wonder if they were still connected, or if his report was too long. No, they were still moving. They are discussing with their telepathic poodle link. Perhaps it would be best to play dead.
President Paddlepants broke the silence. "General Barkler, you have our permission to leave. This is a lost cause."
Barkley buried his face in his paws and began to whine again.
The president continued. "It's not your fault, general. You did as protocol dictated. Return home and prepare for your next assignment. Don't worry. You are a good boy."
Barkler barked in acknowledgement, and tapped the button to close communication. "All right men, let's go home. I need to go see my puppers!" | The Zoroites arrived on the Planet Earth with their grand armada. On board the flagship, The Emperor of the Galaxy had prepared Himself for the descent to Earth. He had recently acquired the star system of Sol, which was previously under the domain of the Humans. He reduced the Humans' dominion to their planet and its' single moon to further repress them further. This tactic had worked thus far in subduing many races across the galaxy, especially when He dominated them further by making public displays of cruelty in the form of tortures, executions, and genocides.
But those measures were only reserved for those who dared challenge His authority. For most of the time, The Emperor need only to assert His dominance through overwhelming invasion, a victory parade on the home planet or capital of the conquered, and maybe breaking the strongest warrior/leader of the conquered. When done right, rebellion would not even occur in the minds of the conquered races.
However, as the Emperor's armada descended towards the city of New York – where the UN's HQ was located and Earth leaders were gathered – He saw that the citizens were not out there in droves welcoming his imperial procession. Instead, only some men in uniformed black jacket were there to greet the Supreme Ruler of the Galaxy.
Furious, He signaled to the advanced party to investigate what had happened. He thought that maybe the Humans were too scared to even see His fear-inducing presence. Maybe the Humans had stayed at their homes, holed up in case the invaders had decided to murder or enslave them all.
As The Emperor mused at the notion of fleeing inferior beings, scared for their lives, The flagship had landed just in front of the UN HQ building. The flagship itself was larger than the building, displaying the grandeur of His Power and Greatness. The doors opened before Him, the trumpets greeted His presence, His soldiers stood at the ready in perfect posture, and He himself was dressed in the way befitting a Great Ruler such as Himself. He stood 3-meters-tall, way taller than any of the Humans genuflecting before him. He took pity at them, finally understanding the disparity between His kind and their kind.
"Humans! His Grace, the Emperor of the Galaxy, Breaker of Worlds, Conqueror of the Masses, would like to inquire as to the rest of your people!" a slightly shorter figure, clad in shiny armour announced, whilst standing slightly in front of The Emperor. This was done, as to put distance between the ruler and the ruled.
A human representative raised his head and answered, "Y-Your Grace! We have been sent by our leaders and people to properly greet you, so–"
The Emperor raised his hand to stop the human. He then nodded to his aide who continued, "Yes, we understand that. But His Grace wondered if the lack of people present at the moment would indicate their fear or rather their insubordination..?"
"N-No, Your Grace! We have tried, to our best ability to invite more citizens to attend to Your Grace's arrival," the humans who were still on their knees responded in unison, "however, as you could see not a lot of people decided to attend."
"Why is that, then?"
"W-Well... It could be said... t-that the citizens opted to stay at home, maybe they are watching the procession from their televisions or social media," another human representative said.
Unsatisfied, the Emperor ordered some of His generals to 'punish' the humans' lack of respect shown. The generals then moved into their respective fleets and deployed the necessary measures to enact 'phase 2 of the Earth's subjugation' – amounting to public displays of violence. The armies and ships raced across the world to inflict damages, be it human lives, infrastructures, or even the natural environment, all were subjected to His will. His will demanded death and destruction, as such those things were brought upon the citizens of Earth, albeit in the least amount as he would like to keep many of the citizens still alive and resources available for productivity reasons.
After days of rampaging, The Emperor observed that the humans were all still apathetically staying within their homes. He wondered if maybe the damage he had done were insufficient. So he ordered even more death and destruction on Earth. He also rounded up several leaders and had them executed publicly for all to see, for all to weep and fall into despair to.
Weeks had passed, yet still nothing changed. As He had about enough of the humans' lack of reaction, He was about to order the humans to be wiped out en masse when he received reports from His aides. After various methods were used, they had finally concluded that the humans were indeed staying within their homes. The humans did so, not out of fear or despair. No, the humans did so because they were too bored at the destruction, intimidation, and even fear tactics that the Emperor had employed in his attempt to subjugate Earth. He was stunned at the rather unexpected report.
He wondered, if fear was not working against the humans... maybe doing the exact opposite of that could yield result? He consulted his aides to weigh in on the thought.
"Let us use unorthodox methods against unorthodox sorts of creatures, shall we?" | 2019-06-11T09:05:18 | 2019-06-11T08:18:28 | 216 | 159 |
[WP] You don't remember what you do for a living. Literally. You wake up, get in the car, then black out until you're back in your driveway in the middle of the afternoon 5 days a week, and you get a paycheck once a month. | When people ask you what you do for a living, most people have an answer. They follow that up with a small story of what they do and how it was funny or a weird thing that happened. Sometimes it is a serious story if it was big enough news.
But what about a person that can't answer that question? And no I am not talking about people without jobs. I have a job.
I just have no idea what that job is.
It has been a little over a year since I took this job and I have no idea what it is. It's not that I am dumb and just winging my way through the job either. I go in my car at 7:30 every weekday morning cause I know my job starts at 8am sharp. And the next thing I know, I am in my driveway at 5:25pm like clockwork.
And I have no idea what I have done in the time between.
I get a paycheck once a month, so I know I am doing something. Cause it allowed me to pass the six figures mark in my yearly income.
For a while I have tried to find out where I am going every morning. Based on when I have to leave, and when I get back, I know it is 25 minutes away. Nothing special is around me within that range of where I could drive. Hell, to get to the closest city takes me 35 minutes at the earliest.
Yesterday I tried something else. I put a tracker on my car just before I went to work. So I could view where it went.
When I got out of the car that day, I found my mailbox's flag was flipped up. I had mail.
It was a letter with two simple words. "*Strike One"*
Paired with it was my tracker neatly inside the envelope. Reviewing the data from it revealed that it never left my driveway. | Five 'til five.
*So always five?*
Always five. Call 'em freedom units, 'cause that's when I finally leave, too. I like irony, like there. We ain't ever really free. Anyways. Leave on the dot. Not a minute later. Not a minute earlier. Nobody else leaves early, so I don't. Come in, sit down, sit quiet. Next thing you know, out the door. Remember fuck all what I did, remember fuck all who I was when I started. Then straight home, not that that's any better. Too much remembering, if you know what I mean. Makes you wonder.
*What's it make you wonder?*
Makes you wonder why.
*Why what?*
Why bother. With going home at all. With getting paid at all. Once a month, I get that check I done traded my life in for. Enough to get a man dreaming; not quite enough for dreams. Sign on a dashed line for a dashed dream. Always tell myself enough is enough. Next check, deal's done. No more work, no more checks. And I always end up back at work the next day. And the next. And the next. And then one more time, for good measure. Can't beat a dead horse enough, that's what I like to say.
*Five days?*
Of Hell. 'Til the weekend. 'Til I forget on my own terms, instead of theirs. Then it starts all over again, like clockwork. Makes you wish the clock was broken, that it'd get stuck somewhere better than this. Or that you could grab it, stretch it all funny like one of 'em Dali clocks. Make time loop around it slower when you want. Still, I don't make the rules. Five days 'til five. That's their rules.
*Whose?*
I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't. A third of every day, gone. Like blinking, 'cept when I open my eyes, it's evening. The sun is on the other side of the street. Drive home, pretend I want to listen to the radio. Commercial-free drive at five bullshit, like that's what'll set me over the edge. Sing along, just to keep from screaming. Pretend it doesn't remind me of everything I'd like to do.
*So why don't you do those things?*
No time. Simple as that. Live to work. Work to live. Just to get home and realize you ain't got much life left to live. Sneaks away from you. One second you want to be an astronaut. A firefighter. Next thing you know, you're burning up through empty space wishing a fuckin' asteroid would put you out of your misery. Any day now.
*You're not that old, right?*
Wish I was. Then I wouldn't work. Hilarious. Retirement; that's a joke that's aged like a fine milk. At this rate, I'll work 'til I die. Not a minute later.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-02-11T17:17:24 | 2020-02-11T15:07:10 | 96 | 50 |
[WP]Humans are the only race capable of creating fiction. The galactic community has never contacted Earth out of fear for our Death Stars and our frightening “history”. Until now. The two most powerful space civilizations have come to earth asking us to arbitrate a dispute and enforce the outcome. | Ewan stared down at the octopus-like being in is ridiculous-looking exo-suit.
"Your translator, sir," it said, handing him a small metal box with two buttons at the bottom. "Speak into that while holding the red button, and I can understand you."
He took the translator and turned it in his hand, giving it a shot. He held the button, and put the translator to his mouth, saying "Hello there."
The alien gave a little satisfied squiggle. Ewan turned to the military general standing nearby, and the general shrugged. "I'm not the one they want," he told Ewan.
Ewan turned back to the alien, and it began to speak. "As we understand, you are a Jedi Master, and a member of the Jedi Council. We would like the Council to settle a dispute for us and the Ald'aarak."
Ewan, still staring at the creature in bewilderment, began "I-" before he cut off. "Hold on a moment," he told the alien. He turned to the general, and took a few steps closer, then whispered, "I have no idea what to do."
"Neither do we, sir. Just play the part for now."
"Alright," he said before walking back to the alien.
"I must first- speak with the council. I'm sure Master Yoda would appreciate this opportunity for the Jedi to serve as a mediator for the most powerful species in the galaxy."
The alien shifted a few tentacles so they were lying more flat against the ground. "Excellent. When will he be available so we can meet him?"
Ewan looked over at the general, who was now giving him a very, very mean stare.
"I- I'm sorry, I forgot, but Yoda's away on a diplomatic mission with the Twi'Leks. He may be gone a while."
"But for a matter as urgent as this, are you sure he can't make it?"
"Well, he's not human," Ewan told it. "Nobody can order Yoda around."
The alien seemed to let out a little air. "I suppose," and it perked up. "Would you like to be our mediator?"
When Ewan looked back over at the general, it was hard to tell, but he could see him trying to stifle a smile. | Two different unidentified spacecrafts landed at DeBell Golf Club, the military was waiting already, a message had been heard through the earth airwaves: we need judge Atkins.
As the ethereal figures descended their ships, the troops set prepared for a confrontation: an eclectic group of space forces, police and military. Among them, a rather nervous and wiry figure standing next to commander Cothern, looked like she was going to pass out at any minute: Technical Sergeant Ying was completely out of her element.
No one could really describe the figures: were they humanoid among all that smoke? Do they have a body at all? What did they want? Who was Judge Atkins?
- Hello fellow **økæyikkēg** dwellers, we have travelled long and far looking for your advice: We need Judge Atkins to hear our case! pleaded one of the figures, with a slight green colour to it.
Commander Cothern step front: "You have violated prohibited airspace, you cannot make demands, give us a reason not to blow you out".
- We come in peace, no arms or weapons accompany us. But please, we need your help figuring something out, please hear us out! asked the other figure, it had a deeper voice.
Sergeant Ying noticed something curious on the voice of both extraterrestrials: they sounded a bit old-fashioned, they had some of that transatlantic tang to their speech. They were clearly in distress, this last one creature have been crying, she could be certain of that much.
- We have received your tales and history through the space dust. Our government doesn't know we are here, it had been decided long ago not to contact you: they were afraid you would decimate us like you have done to Alderaan or those planets in the Hosnian system. They fear the Emperor would want to annex us next or destroy us too, we are but a humble space village on the skirts of *økæyikkēg*... But something that never happened before to our people has happened to the both of us and now require your advice, we look for Judge Atkins, continued the greenish figure, floating slightly from the ground.
Commander Cothern was speechless... Did they actually have mentioned Star Wars crap in their little speech? "I repeat again, you have violated prohibited airspace, you are to be taken into custody and... ", he couldn't continue, was almost hysterical.
- Our names are œk and āk, we have been married for three years, we have an offspring, ùl. Our people have always separated after the offspring leaves home, but that won't happen until next cycle and we need help figuring out ùl, we need judge Atkins, said the figure with the deep voice, not taking notice on Cothern.
A divorce, they came through the cosmos for advice on a divorce?
"Divorce?" mumbled Cothern... "Who is judge Atkins?".
But then everything clicked in the mind of sergeant Ying: they weren't interested in any divorce settlement, they had that covered alright. Custody, this was a custody battle...
" sir, This is not about a divorce" said her in a quiet voice.
" what are you talking about " barked him in response.
" They want help with their child, figuring out custody" replied her in a whisper.
" A custody battle? Who's this Judge Atkins they keep talking about?" Asked Commander Cothern clearly annoyed.
" They have been watching Kramer vs Kramer" not being able to stop grinning with relief and the ridiculousness of the situation. | 2020-03-17T00:41:28 | 2020-03-16T18:48:38 | 32 | 21 |
[WP] You’re in the mafia and the boss has ordered you to kill your girlfriend to show your loyalty. You look around the room and see the pictures only to find out you’re dating the mafia boss’s daughter. | My heart froze in place, my veins turned to ice; I couldn't believe the order I was just given.
"B-but, boss," I stammered, "you want me to kill my girlfriend?! Your daughter?! Why? How could you!"
The patriarch of my family, Hirayama Makoto, had a reputation for giving such bizarre tests of loyalty. Those closest to him were familiar with these tests, but I, being a newcomer, had no hope of understanding his motive. I scanned his face and posture for any hints that he might give, but his countenance was as cold and lifeless as the large marble orb that sat on the wooden bookcase behind him. He slowly rose from his seat, peering at me from dark, steely eyes.
"Well, Higa?" He said, his voice with the threatening growl of a lurking tiger, "what will it be? Hesitation will get you killed faster than insubordination in this line of work."
I knew, right then and there, what must be done.
My right hand flew to my pistol, pulling it from my coat pocket and pointing it straight at my boss' face
"S-s-sorry boss!" I shouted. Adrenaline flooded through my body, making my jaw and my hand shake. "I... I can't! I *won't* hurt her!"
Boss Hirayama moved not a muscle; not frozen in fear, but strengthened by confidence. Boss was aging - his body grew thin, and his glossy black hair was striped with white. But this was a man who had faced subdued many young cubs back in the day, fighting and scheming his way to the top. I had trespassed on the tiger's domain, making threats with what felt like little more than a pointy stick. If I had any hope of winning the fight, In needed to end it quickly, lest I find his fangs at my throat.
And yet... I couldn't find it in me to put the old man down. This was the same old man who took me in as a youth, showed me how to fight, taught me to navigate the jungle of the crime world.
Slowly, I turned the gun to my own temple. This just felt right. My hand, steadying its trembling, agreed with my heart.
"I'm sorry boss."
But before I could do anything, Boss held up his hand.
"That's enough, Higa. I've seen enough."
I lowered the gun, ready for judgement. His face was still inscrutable, and I dreaded that I had chosen wrong.
Suddenly, his face crinkled into a smile. "You have chosen wisely. I need men like you by my side."
My legs gave way. I felt like I was ready to faint. | “Fuck.”
I was getting out on parole in a week and two days. The hot sun beat down on me as I worked out. Burpees. Up. Down. Up. Down. Over and over.
As the bell rang to indicate that my time in the yard was over, a younger kid that was the nephew of the shot-caller came over to me. In his hand was a slip of paper. I got a lump in my throat, I knew what this meant.
I took it back to my cell and opened it up.
The note read: “Your girlfriend, Maria cheated on you. She has a death ticket. When you get out you have two days to kill her. Do it quietly. The man she fucked is dead. She is next.”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
“Maria...”
I was twenty-two, she was twenty. I was planning on asking her to marry me soon after I got out.
The day I got out I went home, to my mothers house. As I entered the door I smelled the familiar smell of her cigarettes.
“Mijo!” She smiled and rushed to hug me.
I was broken inside. I sat down on the couch and looked my mother in the eyes, and I told her everything was great. Then I went upstairs and stole some of her jewelry, and borrowed her car.
I got proper clothes from my home, and then drove to 3rd street, where I sold my mother’s jewelry for a .38 snub-nose magnum.
It was 12:47 when I drove up to my girlfriends apartment. I sat in the car for an hour and a half. I didn’t have a fucking choice. Everything I thought I put into the gang, just for them to make me do this unspeakable act. I wanted to shoot myself in that car. I should have shot myself in that car.
Instead I downed most of a bottle of Hennessy, and after an hour and a half I exited my vehicle and walked up to the front door. I was shaking. I knocked on the door and waited.
Finally it opened. Maria was standing in the doorway. Quiet as a mouse.
“Is anybody home?” I asked calmly.
She shook her head.
“May I come in?”
Slowly the door opened. I stepped through the doorway and shut the door.
We walked a few feet into the hallway before she stopped and turned to me.
“I’m so sorry.” She choked as she sobbed.
I stared at her. She was so fucking beautiful, and I loved her. Even now as she cries, her hair was perfect. Moonlight shone through an open window and it glistened across her skin.
Slowly I reached behind my back and grabbed the pistol.
“I have no choice.” I whispered as tears streamed down my face.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
“No!” I screamed.
I threw the gun down and ran to hold her. She didn’t have a chance at making it.
“Oh God, forgive me!”
I called an ambulance, then I grabbed the gun and left.
I had given every shred of my soul to the gang, and what had I gotten in return? A handful of nights I barely remember on a mess of harmful substances. I fucking hate what they’ve made me do. I fucking hate gangs. This ain’t a life man. This is hell.
Every moment of my life since that moment has been regret after regret. I began doing every drug in the book. Needles were my favorite. Because I wasn’t sober, I didn’t pass the drug tests for parole, so I went back to prison.
Now, it’s been three years in prison and I have found some small semblance of religion. I pray to God for any last shred of mercy he has that I can undo what I’ve done, but I can’t. I am probably going to hell and I deserve that, but I pray regardless.
To you, my sweet Maria. I will be gone soon. I am done with the gang, and the only way out is to die. I am so incredibly sorry for what I’ve done. Goodbye. | 2020-07-02T12:02:21 | 2020-07-02T09:12:22 | 19 | 12 |
[WP]You’re the god of small luck, you make the bus late, make pennies appear. You receive a prayer from a homeless man, “Please, I want to get on my feet. A stable job, a wife, some kids.” Normally, you’d forward his prayer to the god of success. Now, you decide to take on the case yourself. | *"I want to get on my feet..."* That's the part I heard. That's the prayer. The rest was just... window dressing. Frills. You humans love the frills, but I love the window itself. The view into your soul.
He didn't ask me for a handout. Not a million dollars, a new car, or a new life. Just a hand up. A way to get back on his feet. That was a window to a soul whose view I enjoyed.
My brother, my bigger and more popular brother, he prefers the grand gesture. He gives out lottery tickets. Lets you survive a fatal accident. Keeps the cancer at bay.
I like the little things. A flat tire that avoids a slight accident. A man who trips to avoid getting hit by a stray soccer ball. And today, it was a businessman. He fell. Uneven sidewalk. Pretty unlucky, but nothing major.
"Hey man, are you all right?" The businessman avoided a puddle because a hand caught him. A grimy hand covered in old dirt and the filth of the street. It kept his $9000 suit clean at the cost of a $90 tie.
"Oh, yeah. Thanks." The businessman wasn't typical for his industry, I suppose. He donated to charity. Not for a tax write off, but because he had a lot and some people didn't. Had it been anyone else, this day might have turned out a bit differently. Pretty lucky. Even for me.
"Careful, it gets slick here in the winter." There was a chill in the air, the bite of autumn that would soon be the snarling teeth of snow and ice. Chicago was cold in the winter. Colder than some of you humans can even comprehend.
"Are you hungry?" The man looked down at his stained tie, his eyes following the grimy hand to a rail thin frame. Seeing the cheekbones pressing against skin so thin it might tear any minute, the businessman couldn't help but offer. A meal for a $9000 suit.
"Ah, it's fine. You don't need to do that." You humans... You'll pray and pray and pray, until your knees are bloodied and your hands are gnarled. You'll beg the universe for help, but when another human offers a hand, you always try to beg off.
"No, please, I insist." The businessman smiled reassuringly, helping the beggar to his feet. "It's the least I can do."
"All right." The beggar, a man named Jacob, slowly stood on knees that rattled, his breath ragged.
"I'm Michael. Michael Grayson." The businessman held out his hand, his handsome face smiling widely.
"J.. Ja... Jake..." The beggar looked down at his hand, the grime of the street caked so thoroughly that what might have once been white skin was now darker than the ebony of Michael's own skin. Seeing that filth, Jacob held back, not wanting to stain Michael's clean hand.
"Nice to meet you, Jake." Michael thrust his hand forward, wrapping Jake's hand in his, heedless of the mess.
"Y... you too." Jake didn't squeeze hard. It wasn't out of respect, but because when a muscle is underfed and underused for so long, it loses its purpose. Its strength.
"You like steak, Jake?" Michael smiled a bit at his rhyme, gleaming white teeth against dark skin, his brown eyes twinkling.
"Who doesn't like steak?" Jake smiled a bit as well, his yellowed and broken teeth caked with the same grime as his hands.
"Come on, I know a good place. You know Gibson's, right?"
"I... I can't go in there..." The bums and beggars all knew to avoid the high-end places. At best they'd be tossed out. At worst, they'd be arrested or beaten.
"Well, not like that." Michael laughed, pulling a phone from his pocket. "Gimme one sec, Jake."
"Okay..." Jake stood there, shivering a bit, feeling the wind picking up. His old coat, a gift from the Salvation Army, was worn through more than it was solid, and it did little against the chill.
"Susanna, call Tad. Tell him I want a room." A pause, then a chuckle. "No, not in New York. Here. Tonight." Another pause. "No, Luke didn't kick me out. Just... get me the room. Best they have. Oh, and call Jenny. That's right." A laugh, the deep and rumbling laugh that comes from the belly and rises up. "No, he really didn't kick me out. Thanks, Suse."
"Sorry about that." Michael put his phone away, turning back with a smile. "My assistant thinks my husband kicked me out."
"Why?" Jake didn't stutter this time, meeting Michael's warm brown eyes with his own cold grey.
"You'll see." Shrugging out of his overcoat, he wrapped the filthy man in the heavy wool with a laugh, hailing a taxi.
"So, tell me about yourself, Jake. How'd you end up here?"
"I... used to be a chemistry teacher, a long time ago. I... lost my job."
"That's terrible! What happened?"
"My wife... she... childbirth. They didn't make it..." Jake shuddered again. Not from the wind this time, but from the memories. "I couldn't handle it..."
"Ah..." Michael didn't offer the platitudes that so many might have. No 'she's in a better place' or 'everything happens for a reason.' Instead, he wrapped an arm around the man, helping him into the car.
"11 East Walton." Michael spoke the driver, who nodded, clicking the meter. "Jake, I feel like today is my lucky day."
"Why's that?"
"My son. He's having some trouble in school. Chemistry, if you believe it." Michael laughed as the taxi moved into traffic. "You still remember it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then thank God for small miracles! How'd you like to try and tutor him. If it works out, maybe we can make it a full time thing."
"I... I..." Jake couldn't speak over the choking sobs, desperately nodding as he tried to calm down.
"Well, that was certainly lucky." I heard a voice behind me, turning to see a face that was almost sickening in its perfection. How a person could be born with a face that handsome could only attributed to luck.
"Brother." I smiled at him, seeing him watching the taxi.
"You don't normally get involved in things like this." The taxi was lost in a sea of yellow, but I saw it clearly.
"Well, I guess it was his lucky day?"
"Whose? The businessman or the beggar?" Fortuna laughed a bit, punching me slightly on the shoulder. "Come on, Felix. There's a guy who claims he has eliminated the luck of coin flips. Wanna check it out?"
"In a minute." I watched through concrete and steel as the taxi pulled up outside a massive edifice of stone and marble, pulling into a gated courtyard. I smiled a little too widely as the concierge opened the door.
"Welcome back to the Waldorf, Mister Grayson."
"Thanks for fitting us in, Tad."
"Happy to help, sir. It was actually a huge stroke of luck your assistant called when she did. We just had a cancellation. The penthouse is free for the first time in years!" Turning to my brother I saw him look away with a smile, whistling a tune. | There's a saying among humans: death by a thousand cuts. Even the mightiest human can be brought low by enough problems. But I've never seen anyone talk about the opposite.
What if someone could be raised up by a thousand little, seemingly insignificant acts?
---
As you may be aware, my talents lie not in grand schemes of success or huge jackpots that propel people into the stratosphere. No, there's a good reason my office name plate reads "small luck" instead of "big luck" - I'm pretty limited in what I can do in a single go. You want a free donut? I can arrange that, though you may need to give me 24 hours of advance notice. The Mega Millions numbers? Ha, you'd probably have a better chance guessing that than me. Given the hard limit I had, I usually ended up doing not much. Maybe I'd help a few people out, but normally I just tossed coins and small bills on the ground to see who would stop to pick them up. What else could I do?
So when I passed a homeless person under the bridge in the park one day, I didn't think too much about it when I heard his prayer. After all, it's way out of my wheelhouse. If the dude wanted a lukewarm coffee or a mostly untouched Subway footlong, I could hook him up, but a job? Not in this economy. And don't even get me started on a wife (or kids). I went straight toward the cyclist who was swearing like a sailor instead and just wanted a bandaid for a cut after he took a little tumble. Won't lie, he looked at me a little suspiciously after I produced a bandaid out of my jacket pocket, but beggars can't be choosers.
The next day, I walked the same path (the park's really nice, I swear). Crossed the homeless person again. Same prayer - job, wife, kids. This time, I took a closer look at him. He couldn't have been more than thirty, maybe thirty-five. Decent facial structure, though the small scar on his left cheek and the scraggly facial hair weren't doing him any favors. Didn't seem to be high or drunk, so that was a pretty good start. Still - job, wife, kids - way out of my territory. I passed him again in favor of the young mother who was struggling not to curse in front of her infant son because of a dirtied dropped milk bottle. I hope she appreciated my disinfectant wipe, since it was mostly unused.
Once again, I crossed by the same man. Different day, same prayer. Alright, I finally said to myself, better pass him onto Success - maybe the douchebag could take a few hours of his incessant high-roller partying schedule to actually help someone other than himself out. But then a thought occurred and I stopped. Froze, more like, trapped within my mind as I thought and thought and thought. The possibilities, the probabilities, the potential.
All my life I was Small Luck. I was the little kid on the block, the runt of the litter, the small fry. Everyone made fun of me because while they were off doing big things with big people, I was tossing around pennies on cold winter nights.
Maybe, instead of hoping for someone else to come along and promote me to a better position, I could do it. Maybe I could change myself. I looked at the man - maybe I could change him too.
"Hey dude," I greeted, walking up to the man. His eyes honed in on me, relatively sharp and undulled.
"Spare a dollar, man?" he asked.
I nodded, fishing around in my pocket. I pulled out a fiver - the best I can do, and handed it to him. "You need any food, water?"
He shook his head. I smiled, and went on my way. After all, that's about all I can do for him - for now.
---
That's how it started. A couple dollars here, a free sandwich there. Little things. Eventually he came to realize that I was not just passing by him everyday by chance. Intuitively, he must have realized that I was there for some other reason, even if there was no way he could possibly grasp my true nature. Either way, he didn't object too much to the little things I did for him.
This probably went on for a few weeks. The changes started appearing even during that time. I would pass by and he would no longer have a long and scraggly beard; apparently he bought a cheap razor. Then he started looking cleaner and smelling better (which I couldn't complain about) - that was the result of a monthly gym membership to one of those big chain gyms, which gave him access to a shower, a locker, and some occasional free food for relatively cheap. At least it was affordable on his budget, which really was my budget given to him.
"Hey man," he said one day as he sipped a cup of coffee - that I didn't get for him. I quickly hid the cooling cup of coffee that I had intended for him behind my back before he could see.
"What's up?"
"Look," he said, "I really appreciate all the help you've given me. I just want to say that you don't have to do anymore."
"Oh?" I replied, raising an eyebrow. I was already willing to stretch and get him a fiver in addition to the coffee.
"Yeah." He smiled. "I got a job, actually."
"Wow, congrats."
"Yeah, fast food, nothing special, but I found a shelter to use as my address, so maybe this could be it."
"Maybe, yeah."
He gathered up his things. "Anyway, I was just here because I wanted to see you one last time." He looked at me directly before extending a hand. I took it, and with a nod, he walked away. A few steps away, he stopped, turned around, waved, and kept on walking. I would say that I was nostalgic to see him walk away or at least wave back, but I don't look back all too often. I just walked away.
---
Time blurred. Happens when you're a low-level higher being with a daily job and not many benefits. Maybe it was just part of our biology - we don't remember much and we don't think too far ahead, helps keep us in the here and now. Otherwise, some poor dude down the hall probably still be reminiscing about helping out a caveman at some point. I did change my style, though. Less random money on the ground, more, well,*helpful* stuff. Little things, but helpful. I helped people catch the bus, gave them the exact change they needed for that bag of rice, or passed out hot drinks on cold nights (and cold drinks on hot nights too).
I found myself in a fairly upscale fast food chain restaurant whose name started with one of those middle letters and had a distinctly Gaelic origin. A worker had asked for a clean apron since some big-shot exec was touring the place, so I hurried over. Naturally, I didn't have a replacement apron, but I scrubbed the darn thing pretty well (there were still a few marks left on it, but nobody was going to get close enough to see that). Unfortunately, apparently I blended in quite well with the workers because they also made me fall in line when the exec walked through the door.
The executive looked the part - mid-fifties, sharp eyes, wedding ring on the left ring finger, clean-shaven, nice suit. He walked around the whole place and looked at *everything*. Meticulous guy too, I guess. Finally, he came to us employees (well, minus me). Looked at all of us. Noticed the marks on that worker's apron (sorry bro) and stopped at me. He stared at my face long enough for me to turn a little red. Was there something on my face? Did I forget to wipe the sugar powder off from that donut earlier? The man leaned in close.
"I know you," he whispered, and then he was gone, off to the next person in line. I blinked. Unexpected, but it was whatever.
"Good work, team," the executive said on the way out. Before he exited out the front door, he stopped, waved at the assembled employees, and exited the restaurant. The workers went back to work. I stood there.
Distant, vague memories floated around in whatever passed for a brain in my head. Routines - a path that I walked oh so many times - from years and years ago, barely hidden behind a thin veil. I couldn't quite remember, but it seemed familiar. I could only conjure up some vague images of a half-smile hidden behind some awful facial hair. Something about a job, a wife, and kids.
I shrugged. Probably one of the more memorable times I helped someone, I guess. I had a vague feeling that my desire to actual help people instead of shooting the breeze came around that time, but I honestly couldn't say. I should probably be grateful that whoever it was helped change me for the better, but as usual for me, I don't remember nearly enough.
Hopefully, whoever it was I helped figured it all out. | 2020-10-02T11:48:18 | 2020-10-02T11:41:53 | 38 | 19 |
[WP] The world's greatest villain and hero clearly like each other. His monologues when she's captured tend to turn to conversation, and she "accidentally" lets him escape arrest. While they're convinced they're enemies, his henchman and her sidekick are just trying to get them together already. | “C’mon, Jo,” he was saying, exasperated. “This is the third time this month he’s gotten away when you were supposed to be watching. You’re not that incompetent, and he’s definitely not that smart.”
The heroine known to most of the city as Lady Fate scowled. “He’s not my arch-nemesis for nothing, James,” she said stubbornly.
“Has he been getting inside your head? Is this some sort of Joker-Batman, Superman-Lex Luthor, you’d-be-nothing-if-you-didn’t-have-me-to-stop kind of thing?” her sidekick, Kid Quick, begged. “Help me out here, Jo. We’re going to get in trouble with the Super Register if we can’t get a handle on this!”
Lady Fate’s face softened slightly. “It’s not that. He’s not in my head, I wouldn’t let him get to me like that.”
Kid Quick did not look convinced. “Well, it’s *something*,” he grumbled. “What were you guys chatting about when I showed up? That sounded awful casual for the usual monologue.”
“It was more of a conversation, honestly,” Lady Fate admitted. “I get the feeling he doesn’t get that often.”
“That’s so *pathetic*,” Kid Quick snorted. “What, he comes up with evil schemes just to *talk* to you--” He broke off at the light flush that was rising on his partner’s cheeks. *Aw, hell,* he thought.
Meanwhile, in an underground base about two and a quarter miles outside of the city, a similar conversation was taking place.
“If you will pardon my insubordination, sir, I know for a fact that it does not take two hours for the ray to charge and vaporise half of the city as we discussed previously. Were you in need of assistance? You seemed to indicate that you were capable of handling Lady Fate and the operation of the ray on your own -- was I mistaken?” The cyborg was spitting mad, as made clear by her clipped tone and icy glare.
Coincidence, Master of Chaos, supervisor of the Dark Dimensions, and generally acknowledged top baddie in the city, cringed away from his henchwoman’s anger. *I was… distracted*.
“Clearly,” Libra snapped, her cybernetic eyes glowing bright blue.
*She listens*, he replied, somewhat defensively. He shouldn’t have to explain himself! He was one of the Seven Lords of Darkness, for crying out loud! *And the more I come to understand of her, the more easily she will be defeated in the future*.
“But you do not ever do anything that will actually defeat her!” Libra shouted back, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Then she calmed a little. “Though she does let you go on a fairly regular basis as well.”
*Let me… go? I escape*, Coincidence said slowly.
Libra gave him a flat look. “She intentionally gives you an open avenue of egress -- my analyses of the last three of your escapes have turned up that much.” She chuckled humourlessly. “Perhaps our Lady Fate is equally *distracted* by you.”
Coincidence considered this for just a moment too long, and Libra’s jaw dropped.
“You have got to be joking.” | The inside of the bank was quiet. Everyone watched the two figures standing in the center of the lobby, one dressed mostly in black, the other in a dazzling mix of white and gold.
"I just -- are you *sure* there's nothing you can do to, you know, move things along?" The tall figure was squinting at his sidekick, jaw tense.
The blonde drew herself up to her full height, still a full head and a half shorter than the man. "You know full well it's a passive power, K. It happens when it needs to, and I just sit back and enjoy the ride."
The man raised his chin towards the fluorescent lights, allowing the ebon cowl to fall back from his head. "Yes, that's fine, but...is there nothing you can even do to *request* how it manifests? Like...a vault code, or a key ring, or -- honestly, just a pile of money would be fine."
Two of the tellers exchanged a look from behind the counter, eyebrows raised.
"Not so fast, Kaos!" A woman in a charcoal grey jumpsuit dropped from the ceiling, landing in a crouch before slowly drawing herself up to standing. She was some ten feet from the pair, her green eyes flashing as she stared at them.
"For the love of --" the man groaned. He turned to look at his sidekick. "Wildcard, is there something particularly *lucky* about being interrupted in our operation by this --"
He paused, frozen in the act of gesturing to the newcomer. "...hold on, *Nocturne*? Is that -- but since when are you a hero?"
The woman in grey brushed back a dark curl and grinned. "Honestly, I just got so sick of robbing museums. It's like -- there's only so many exhibitions of ancient relics to begin with, and...I dunno. The Cohort gives me benefits, and a stable income."
"What *is* the world coming to?" the man grinned. "Wildcard, you'd best stand behind me -- Nocturne here is likely to incapacitate you with her *mighty* shadow-powers."
Despite the irony emanating from her partner's voice, Wildcard retreated in a slow arc, backing away and placing Kaos between her and Nocturne. She stumbled, falling backwards, but the other two did not notice.
"I'm sorry, but am I sensing that *you* are trying to make fun of *my* powers? What hope do you have against me? Are you going to try to stab me with one of your Darts of Darkness or whatever?"
Kaos let out a laugh. "Oh, this is rich. First of all, it's called the *Dark Lance*, and it's *more* than powerful enough to stop someone whose major ability is being able to move through shadows."
The young woman known as Wildcard righted herself, then looked around. She discovered she had stumbled over the foot of someone crouched behind a ficus. As she checked to see who it was, her flint-colored eyes widened. "Whisper?"
"Not so loud!" the hidden figure hissed. "I don't want him to know it's me."
Sirens were audible in the distance, the distinct wail drawing nearer.
"Wait, you know him?"
"Yeah...you could say that."
The sound of the sirens climaxed, then went silent. The interior of the lobby was strobed with red and blue lights. Nocturne spoke: "That is the. Most. Absurd. Thing. I have ever heard. You would not have lasted five *seconds* with Mason."
Kaos shook his head. "Okay, we're going to settle this. I didn't expect this to be how things were going to go, but you have the absolutely *delusional* notion that your power is better than mine, and I'm going to show you how wrong you are."
He threw out a hand and knocked back the group of police that had been surreptitiously approaching the entrance to the bank. They struggled against the jet black tendrils that restrained them.
"Fine by me," Nocturne said, her gaze flicking over the form of her opponent. "Look, it's clear from those bulges under your uniform that you've got me beat in terms of strength -- but that won't matter. You can't touch me. And I don't mean that as a metaphor; literally, you will not be able to touch me."
Kaos began pushing back his sleeves. "I hate to mess up a face as radiant as yours, but, you know, I am a villain, so..."
The two began to clash in the center of the room, ebon waves radiating from their bodies as they did so. | 2020-11-07T00:52:59 | 2020-11-06T21:49:15 | 135 | 82 |
[WP] The villain stood by the protagonist’s door. “...Won’t you avenge your mother’s death?” The protagonist simply replied, “Naw, she was a piece of shit anyways.” | "Won't you avenge your mother's death?"
Standing by the doorway a tall masked figure, cloaked in black cape, leather suit, and a menacing mask distorting the villain's voice into a guttural mechanical sound.
On the other side of the door stood a scruffy looking man, beard unshaven, hair uncombed. It was Hank Pride, the man behind the mask of Black Beetle, vigilante hero of the city. With disinterested look on his face, coupled with daze still of just woken up abruptly...he clearly was not amused.
"Well...?? Are you gonna avenge her death? I killed her with my own hands. It was on the news more than a week ago!"
Uncaringly scratching his behind Hank just shrugged his shoulders...
"So...? She was a piece of shit anyway. Good riddance I'd say"
The villain was taken aback, although the mask did a good job of covering it.
"How can you say that? You are a hero! The beacon of good! You can't just...", the villain's voice shook in rage before being cut off.
"Look, Ex...I don't know why you're chasing me like I missed some kind of a deadline even to go as far as showing up on my doorstep, but I simply can't get upset over the woman who abused me throughout my childhood and then abandon me on the streets. So no, I will not avenge that abusive bitch. In fact I'm gonna celebrate her death today. So if nothing else, I'd appreciate it if you can leave. It's my day off"
The hero slammed the door on the villain's face. The Exterminator, as the villain is known as, just stood there not knowing what to do or what to think. Behind the mask tears started flowing down, her heart ached of the hatred and spite from her estranged son. | I ran through a back alley, ditching my schoolbags and struggling to get over a chain link fence. I scrambled up the fire escape of an apartment. I could hear the thing that was chasing me get closer as the rusty metal creaked, "Cae... come here..." It sang as I ducked into my apartment window. I ran out into the hall, out of breath. Why did I drop off of the track team? Running down the halls, I tried to remember the order. Left, right, right, forward, left, down the stairs. Yes! I picked the lock of the janitors closet and slipped in between the cracks in the brick wall. Yes, I literally liquified and seeped into the cracks. I solidified, crashing onto the couch of my true home, the leftovers of an old WW2 bunker.
As I wolfed down my food, I listened for footsteps. When I was satisfied with the silence, I moved to my Gamer Chair^(tm) booted up my AI system. *"Hello, Caesium,"* My AI, LIsA, hummed as she booted up. "LIsA, can you find out what was following me?" *"Yes, Caesium,"* LIsA pulled up security cameras and inspected them frame by frame. *"Match found. Beetle Wings, 21, true identity unknown. Also referred to as Ladybug. History of breaking and entering, murder, arson, and tax evasion"* "Do you know where he is?" "Right behind you, prettyboy." A melodic voice sang from behind me. I whipped around, face to face with bright yellow eyes behind a mask made of elytra beetle wings. At least they're on brand.
"You! You're that RA! The one that got arrested!" I stood up, discreetly grabbing my pocket knife from my desk. "Yeah yeah. And put your knife away, I have a vendetta to do or something," Beetle Wings pulled out a tablet and threw it on me. There was a video... a livestream? Was that... "Yep, that's your mom. If you don't give me the location of Rylie Anslem, your mom get, yknow..." Beetle Wings jerked their head to one side, as if being hanged, "You have 30 seconds." I justed started at them in shock, "What... why do what to know where Rylie is?" Beetle Wings just hummed and traced my shoulder, "Let's just say that he's got something that I want."
We started at each other intensely before I spun around in my chair, "I'm not giving you Ry's location." Beetle Wings looked at me in shock, "What do you mean? What about your mom?" I glanced at the tablet. Thirty seconds ago, my mom was suspended over a pit of snakes and scorpions. Now, I could barely see her body. I looked back at Beetle Wings and shrugged. "What do you mean? Aren't you gonna avenge your mom or something?" They looked at me, bewildered. I shook my head, “Nah, she was a piece of shit anyways.” Beetle Wings looked at me, concerned, "Do you wanna talk about it?" "You fucking know it. It started when I was seven..." | 2020-11-07T17:47:42 | 2020-11-07T17:16:00 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | My face scrunched up, my nose wrinkling.
"I just... I was saying...."
I sneezed into a handkerchief.
Every single one of my colleagues immediately scattered two meters away.
"Quick! Someone get the disinfectant!"
"We need to go to quarantine *now*!"
"Everyone stay away from us!"
Dozens of Intergalactic Trading Services employees rushed off. One found disinfectant and began spraying it on them, another called out a hazardous materials unit.
"It's fine, guys," I said, but as luck would have it, I sneezed again.
"It is *not* fine. We knew this day would come when the company decided to hire a *human*."
I shook myself a little and rubbed my nose. "You guys are exaggerating. It's probably just a cold starting up, I'll--"
Xar'li began coughing and everyone around her jumped away. She coughed and coughed until her weird four-section mouth coughed up a clot of blood and she fell on her knees.
"...Okay that is *not*--that's not how infections work, I don't think we can actually blame that on--"
I stood up and they all shouted for me to sit back down.
Paramedics arrived in full PPE, and began helping Xar'li.
"Alright, everyone," one of the paramedics said, "you've been exposed to active human pathogens. That means that your chances of survival are in between five and ten percent. We'll do everything we can, but if you need to send a message to a loved one, do it now."
Every one of my alien colleagues pulled up a holographic display and began speedily composing messages to their loved ones to meet them at the hospital with the proper equipment.
"You," the paramedic said, approaching me, "you will be tried for violation of the biological weapons act of the Jar'fan convention of twnenty-three fifty-two."
I groaned and she offered me an oxygen tube and a containment helmet, and put them on. All of the "exposed aliens" breathed a sigh of relief as I was isolated from their air supply. | ***THE EXODUS (my first try at a writing prompt, hopefully this is decent)***
Within the Outer Rim of our Galaxy exists the planet called Nagilum. Human expansion throughout space had been progressing rapidly throughout the 2300s but inexplicably ceased after having reached the said planet. When making the first contact, the humans aboard their technologically inferior starship gladly exchanged biological scans of their race to the aliens in exchange for detailed star-maps of the Beta Quadrant. Several years later, the aliens also known as Negallians, allowed the humans to establish a colony on their world.
Dran, the leader of the colony-- set out to explore the planet and the Negallians. He noticed a large number of cemeteries and illness spread throughout the more poor areas of the planet, but no hospitals. He marveled at how such a technologically superior species could be so naive in caring for their own. The months he spent exploring the planet made him uneasy, as he was not only observing the aliens, they were observing him. Occasionally, a Negallian would "accidentally" run into him, or pull a strand of his hair and run off with it. What finally made him return to the colony in a rush was when he overheard the bone-chilling statement of "**if it makes a human sick it will kill you".** Returning to the colony, Dran finds that the outer shield had been breached and that every human within the walls had been taken away en masse. So begins the **exodus**.
Dran was immediately taken by a large explosion in the sky. He looked up to see their starship engulfed in flames, along with all hope of escape. He along with the rest of the humans were taken into a facility and experimented on ceaselessly, until death. When the aliens exhausted their limited supply of humans, they decided to pick from the source of the fruit. The invasion of Earth was quick and bloody, with humanity putting up a good fight... but inevitably losing to the advanced weaponry and shielding of the Negallians. Planet Nagilum had discovered that humanity had an immune system that regenerated without outside stimulation, and determined that total blood transfusion would cure their race of all illness and plague.
Earth was transformed into a massive farm for human reproduction. Individual liberty was stripped in favor of reproductive capability. To prevent further rebellious outbursts that had severely reduced the efficiency of their operation, the Negallians used new machines to put each human into a stasis-pod which projected a false reality, making humans believe that their world had continued on as if nothing had occurred. As predicted, the human blood cured the Negallians of their ailments as if it was a miracle drug. Within 50 years, Nagilum was a thriving planet with a massive population boom as the human blood integrated itself into the Negallian body.
That was until of course, the immune cells evolved. The first case began on an Earth occupying vessel. The patient was dead within hours, and they would not be the only one. Throughout the entire Negallian society, a plague swept. Killing every person it inhabited without fail. Doctors and scientists were astounded, as the human blood should have wiped out any disease. That was until they began to realize that they had overlooked something... rejection. The immune cells had begun to reject the Negallian body, inevitably killing anyone who had gone through the transfusion. The entirety of Nagilum had gone through the transfusion. The cure became the plague, and as the last Negallians silently wept in their graves, the machines continued the human-farming operation with no command to cease. Thus beginning a new age of Artificial Intelligence. If only the Negallians had taken the blue pill... | 2021-02-03T15:34:57 | 2021-02-03T13:44:20 | 753 | 420 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | In an instant you could hear a pin drop in the mess hall. The conversations, clicking of silverware, rattling of tables, and even the very air stopped. Every other alien inside froze in fear and looked down at their food. I had started vomiting.
For a moment even I was worried - food poisoning was never fun as I would be dehydrated and severely… inconvenienced for a couple days. But the worry extended beyond me. The minute I’m even slightly sick we know the crew is in danger too. I looked up from the trash bin to my boss with fear and worry.
There’s a reason I’ve never been in management and that’s because I can barely manage my hair let alone another human being. I would never have been able to so calmly direct everyone to remain calm, leave their food behind, and return to their rooms for the time being. While I stood over the garbage bin like a statue scared. It was always strange when a human got sick. It was almost like they accused us of being the ones who brought the sickness and not that we were just their canaries.
At least with my head over the trash I couldn’t see their looks of fear, worry, pity, blame… all the emotions that came when staring at death. I had only the one heave and now just nausea as I stood there. *Please don’t be in the food* was all that ran through my mind.
I was brought to the quarantine zone where a fellow human acted as our doctor. The bright side of being so resilient to diseases was we made excellent health care workers for everyone. I’d always been glad our doctor was Dena since she shared my sense of humor. I laid down on the table and held a bucket nearby in case - the nausea was still there but was slowly dissipating.
When Dena walked in I gave a small smile and played the usual 20 questions.
“Are you tired?” Dena asked.
“Yes. Nothing new,” I responded.
“Headache?”
“Of course.”
“Weight gain?”
“Just the usual bloating from travel.”
Dena cocked her eyebrow and looked me up and down. “Changes in urination or bowel movements?”
“Ugh so gross. No.” Yup I’m an adult researcher on a distant planet still acting like a 12 year old. And on and on the questions went.
I finally asked, “Is it food poisoning? Is everyone safe?”
“I don’t know. Even alien based food poisoning doesn’t usually come on in less than 10 minutes. Let’s run a couple tests. Go pee in this cup.” She shoved a plastic cup in my hands and walked off. Some things never change.
After taking care of my business and the nausea subsided I sat on the table staring at the wall. I’d heard of how hospital waiting rooms are a place where time is distorted and I’ve decided the waiting for anything in the hospital is distorted. Dena came back just before I finished going through my mental to do list and I was relieved when I saw her face held no worry or stress. In fact she almost looked… smug?
“Let’s go through what happened on your trip before you came back. What did you do?” Dena asked.
I recounted my month home for her. “Well, James and I went to visit my family. Then had a fun trip to the lake…” Did I get something while I was home? Noooo... that would mean so many people have been exposed.
Dena eventually sighed and said, “Well it’s nothing contagious but you’ll be changed for the rest of your life. You’ll even have to call your family after this.”
“Wait, do I have cancer? What is going on?” I began to panic even more.
Dena just gave me a mischievous smile and of course paused for effect. “You’re pregnant.”
I didn’t breathe. I didn’t blink. The shock was too much. The only thing I managed to get out was, “THIS LITTLE SHIT MADE THE ENTIRE CREW PANIC BEFORE EVEN BEING BORN!?!?!?”
Dena just laughed and walked away telling me I was free to go.
As I walked down the halls there was an announcement over the PA that all was fine and no one had to worry for their safety. You could hear a collective sigh in the compound as people started leaving their rooms and work spaces. At dinner that night we all sat down to enjoy our meals when one of my sweetest crew mates, Milalik, clicked at me, “Are you ok? What happened?”
“Ah, nothing is wrong. I’m just pregnant.”
Milalik looked at me strangely. “Does… that make you sick?”
“Yeah, it’s a normal thing. Women get sick, sore, hurt, and uncomfortable when pregnant.”
Once again the room went silent.
Milalik’s insectoid face clearly conveyed shock for once. “You poor humans. What the hell is wrong with you? How have you survived your entire existence? How did you even convince yourselves to reproduce? How are you immune to everything but your own spawn?” Everyone else looked like they held the same sentiment.
I just sighed, started stabbing food on my plate, and all I could say was, “I dunno, Earth is like Space Australia, I guess.” | “Why are we doing this again?” Glarm asked.
“I want to do a ‘human in a wormhole.’ You know, like a modern version of a ‘canary in a coal mine.’” Gleek said.
“But the whole point of the canary is that it would die easily and be a warning to surrounding life forms.” Glarm said. “And these humans are crazy resistant. Did you know that that the number of foreign cells in their body outweigh their own cells. That means this guy here is only half human.” Glarm said and pointed to the human in an examination table.
“Is that true?” Gleek asked.
“I don’t know, I just read it in the Willyolio Tribune” Glarm said.
“It’s crazy, they’re surprisingly hard to kill.” Gleek said.
“What did you say?” Glarm asked. He couldn’t believe he actually heard what he thought he heard.
“You know what, you’re completely right. That whole ‘canary in a coal mine’ thing was a bad metaphor. How about it’s for science.” Gleek said changing the subject.
“Oh, why didn’t you just say so! Of course I’ll help. What exactly is the experiment?” Glarm asked.
“I’m going to open this hatch and kick ole’ Glen here out into that wormhole to see what happens.” Gleek said. He was doing some light stretching to warm up for the kick.
Glen was strapped to an examination table under large pure white lights. We was wearing a stylish full body rubber suit that covered everything except his face. His face was wearing a full body fear suit.
“Ok, so that’s not science. I can’t be apart of this. It’s just murder.” Glarm said.
Glen let out a sigh of relief.
“I was planning on taking rigorous notes!” Gleek said.
Glarm thought about it a moment. “Ok, I’m back in. But we can’t just kick Glen out into that wormhole.”
“Yeah, you can’t just kick me out into that wormhole.” Glen echoed.
“Why not?” Gleek asked. “I’ve done it plenty of times. It’s very rewarding work.”
“Because we know from earlier scientific tests that one of the few things that can kill humans is space. More directly a lack of oxygen and the whole vacuum thing doesn’t jive well with their bodies.” Glarm said.
“Riiiiiight. I totally forgot about that. So how should we proceed?” Gleek asked.
“I say we put him in a spacesuit so he won’t die immediately. That way we can see what the wormhole does to him.” Glarm said.
“See, that’s why I reached out for your help. You’re so good at these sorta things.” Gleek said. He didn’t mention that he was forced to ask Glarm for help. His direct superior was getting annoyed by all the human specimen going missing after Gleek was around.
“Awwwww, thanks Gleek, that’s so nice of you to say.” Glarm said.
Glen was swimming in sweat inside the full body rubber suit as he watched the last moments of his life being decided by two giant green lizards.
Gleek was beginning to regret asking Glarm for assistance. He’d kicked several dozen humans off their spaceship. He thought he’d finally found his calling. And now Glarm is sucking all the fun out of it.
The two massive lizards geared up Glen with all the spacesuit equipment they could find. It’s wasn’t made for such a puny life form but it was the beat they could do under the circumstances. The arms of the space suit hung down to the floor and the legs scrunched above the boots forming a wrinkly donut around Glens knees.
“Ok, I think that’s going to do it.” Gleek said.
“Wait, the most important part!” Glarm said and grabbed a giant round fishbowl and plopped it onto glens shoulders.
“Perfect.” Gleek said.
“I don’t think this spacesuit is going to work.” Glen said.
“And what would you know about spacesuits monkey man?” Glarm asked.
“I know I shouldn’t be able to smell your breath from inside one.” Glen said. Glarm raised his hand to cover his mouth and check his breath. “Seriously guys, I can feel a slight breeze from under the helmet.
“Stop being so anti-science. You should count yourself lucky you get a space suit at all.” Gleek said.
“Do we know where the worm hole goes? So we can check to see the results of the experiment?” Glarm asked.
“Yup, it goes directly to Sirius B” Gleek said.
“That’s where the Dogons are from right?” Glarm asked.
“No, the Dogons are from Mali, but they are loosely related. Second cousins or some such.” Gleek said.
“That’s right. I was thinking the Gorgons.” Glarm said.
“No, they are form Hell and of no relation. You’re thinking the Bon-Bons.” Gleek said.
“Oh yeah! The sentient chocolate spheres. I like those guys. They’re a lot of fun.” Glarm said.
“And delicious.” Gleek added.
“You’re a lucky guy Glen.” Glarm said as he pulled a large pronged lever to open the hatch. “You might get to meet the Bon-Bons.”
“That’s funny. I’m not feeling so lucky right now.” Glen said and backed away from the open portal.
Gleek took a running start into a flying kick right to the center of Glens chest. Glen went flying into the gravitic grasp off the Sirius B Wormhole. Glarm raised the pronged lever and the hatch door closed with a hydraulic hiss.
“It’s just not the same” Gleek said.
“What’s not?” Glarm asked.
“The thump I normally get when I kick a human right square in the chest. It was all muted because Of the spacesuit.” Gleek said.
“Sorry Glarm. That’s the price we pay for science.” Glarm said.
Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Gleek said. He was already planning the next time he could kick a human into space.
“Oh no! Glarm said.
“What’s wrong?” Gleek asked.
“We completely forgot to take notes.” Glarm said.
“It’s ok, I got it all up here.” Gleek said and pointed to his temple. | 2021-02-03T19:28:38 | 2021-02-03T16:54:38 | 155 | 28 |
[WP] Despite your father being the most infamous supervillan of all time, you became a hero. When other heros discovered your identity, they turned against you and you lost everything. Alone and scared, you put your last few coins into a payphone. "Dad... I need help" | "You are a bit taller since the last time I saw you." Said my dad while handling me a cup of hot chocolate. "Here, drink."
I took the cup but didn't drink it, my jaw was still sore from the beating I took from my former colleagues. My dad sat back onto his chair and we stood in silent. I wasn't sure what could had been in his mind at the time, he never have expressed much emotions in all the years I have known him. A knock on the door finally broke the silent in the room and a robotic voice I haven't hear for many years spoke from the other side.
"Sir, the preparations are ready. They are waiting for you in the hangar."
"You go first Walter, I will be coming in a minute."
"As you wish, sir. But before I go, I must say that I am happy to have you back with us young master."
"I also happy to hear your voice again Walter." I replied even thought every word felt like my mouth was being punch again.
After Walter footsteps faded away from the hallway, I finally asked the question that had been on mind from the moment The Guardians had discovered my true identity.
"What are you going to do, Dad?"
My dad took a deep breath before speaking. "Remember when you first joined The Guardians?"
"Yeah, you were so mad that I thought you were going to destroy the entire city and every hero in it after I took a step outside the door."
"For a time that was exactly what was going through my mind but..." He paused for a moment and took another deep breath. "But at the end I couldn't do it. Even though I have been a villain all my life, the moment you came into this world I became a father first and a villain second. As a father I couldn't bare the thought of you hating me for the rest of my life because I was being stubborn and couldn't accept you the way you are."
"Dad.. I thought..." I tried to speak but the rush of emotions and the physical pain I felt all over my body wouldn't let me.
"So I did what had to be done." He took another deep breath but this time he also clench his fist as if he was trying to not let the pain overcome him. "In order for you to have an opportunity as a hero, your true identity couldn't be discover. So I made a deal with the old Guardians..."
"What?! How?! What did you...?!"
"In exchange for keeping your identity hidden, I would retired as a super villain and live the rest of my days without causing anymore trouble to anyone."
After hearing those words, I was so shock that all the emotions and pain that I was feeling disappeared in a blink of an eye. In their place a hundred knifes were stabbing me right in the heart, guilt. My dad, a man who have been a villain since the day he was able to walk and became the most hated and fear super villain of all time, had stop because of me. A 27 years old man who had broken the family line of super villains. A man who had never dated a girl because he was too obsessed with became a super hero. A man who was asking his father for help after getting this ass kick by a group of young inexperience super heroes.
"Why?" I asked, the only word I could get out of my mouth after my chest was crush by the consequences of my actions.
"Because you are my son, as a father it is my duty to make sure you live the best life you can." Replied my dad smiling but with a tear going down his right eyes. In all the years I have known him, this was the first time I had ever seen him cry.
Suddenly Walter's voice came through the intercom cutting short the emotional moment between father and son.
"Sir, we may have to change our plans. The radar is showing an object approaching at Mach 3.22 with another 4 objects following at Mach 2.94. Base on the data we have, this objects must be Sonic Boom and the rest of The Guardians following in their jet transports. Estimated time for arrival: 2 minutes 26 seconds. What should we do, sir?."
"Deploy the long range defenses, we will wear them down first." My dad replied back through his earpiece.
"As your orders, sir."
"I will fight with you!" I shouted energetically as I stood up.
"No." The emotions from a moment ago had disappeared from my dad's face, cover up by his usual calm and stoic demeanor. "You are in no condition to fight."
"But father...!"
"I know that you are worry and you are trying to find a way to repay the debt which you think you owe me. But you don't owe me anything, you are my son as long as you are happy I will be happy." With those words he stood up, put on his old armour and walk to the door and stood there for a moment. "Why don't you go to the command center with Walter and watch your old man kick some ass like the old times, son?"
"I will, dad. I will." I said happily. Without doubt, just as the door was closing behind him I saw a smile on his face. | “Dad... I need help.” The long silence that followed told me he had just been woken up and was still processing my words.
His rough, deep voice still retained its grogginess as he finally replied. “Did it happen again?” I noticed he withheld his sigh this time.
“Yep. Can you send Diane to pick me up?”
He groaned over the line, “Yeah, I’ll send her that way. Come to my office when you get here.” Without listening for a reply, the dial up tone rang in my ears. I released my own weary sigh as I sat at a bench nearby, contemplating my life choices up until now.
At least I had kept my identity hidden longer, this was the longest time yet. I had joined this particular hero group about a year ago, and I had hoped we could have been closer. I had even found a sweet heart, her hero name was Demetra. I found it tacky personally, but hey, what do I know, there probably aren’t that many plant girl related names left out there.
I don’t know why I’m so naive after all this time. Even as a kid I knew the only reason I wanted to be a hero was because of my dad. I didn’t want to live in his shadow all of my life, I wanted to amount to something. Well, not that I ever have made a name for myself in the hero world. I had to keep my powers secret because they would have been a dead giveaway to who my dad was, so to the other heroes and the public I was just a guy in leggings running around like an idiot while people like Ultimax did the real work.
My musings were interrupted by the sound of hundreds of voices screaming in pain. Oh great, Diane was here.
I look up from the cracked sidewalk of downtown to see all but one or two streetlights were off, and in front of me stood the tall, lithe woman that had basically been my dad’s slave for as long as I can remember. Her long black hair was teased by the breeze, her light grey eyes that always looked empty staring into my own. A pale hand reached silently towards me, nothing needing to be said as I was no stranger to Diane’s way of doing things. I felt my stomach drop as we were pulled into a nearby shadow, weightless and cold, as if I were falling eternally through space, until I landed on my feet in front of my old home.
The three hundred year old fortress had been my father’s home since he had it built. I lived here since I was a kid and had been sent here by my mother, who had no powers, so that I could develop mine in a safe environment. In other words, she wasn’t going to risk me throwing a superpowered toddler temper tantrum, so she let my dad deal with me.
I nodded to Diane in thanks, and she returned it. Diane was not a talker, she had no tongue to talk with anyway. I sometimes forgot that my dad was a villain in most people’s narrative, so some of the things I had been desensitized to as a child would be deemed “morally disgusting” to your average joe, such as cutting out a slave’s tongue. Yeah, I’m starting to understand why I got kicked from the heroes.
The place is so big that it took me ten minutes to walk from the front door to the office dad would always do paperwork in. Something so mundane didn’t seem like a skill my father would have, but I stood corrected. Letting myself in and helping myself to the alcohol I knew would be in the crystal decanters by his chair, my father waited at his desk, looking almost like a normal man, if not for the terrifying glowing eyes that resembled burning embers.
“Lucius. I take it you continue to persist on becoming a hero? Even now?” The coldness in his voice wasn’t so sharp now as he looked up from his work.
“I haven’t decided. I might just join a traveling circus instead.”
“And the difference of the two is?” The sarcasm hadn’t disappeared it seemed.
“Why do you hate heroes so much? Because they don’t don’t tend to appreciate when you kill off entire civilizations and enslave others?”
He set down his fountain pen and ran a hand over his face. “I only do what is necessary to survival of the planet. I made the hard choice long ago because the heroes wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not very good for our PR, dad. I’m tired of getting kicked out of clubs and groups because of who my dad is. Remember debate team in middle school? Those poor kids couldn’t even wipe their own ass after what you did to them.”
His eyes flashed. “Don’t get started with me. Remember when you were just manifesting your powers, and you blew up that town in Ukraine? Oh what was the name of it?”
“That doesn’t count! The nuclear reactor would have blown up anyway!” At this he gave me a look that showed his skepticism.
“Damnit son. You could be as good at this job as I am if you would just join the family business. You’re older brother is doing great right now in the next universe over. I hear he’s trying to find some kind of stones for his great calling or whatever, but details aren’t necessary. We are gods among men, Lucius, and if we let the mortals forget that-“
“Then the world would be a little less shitty!” I finally screamed. At this, I could see him visibly slump, the age showing on his face like it had done so rarely before. Being in the company of humans it was easy to forget that to my dad, the human lifespan was a passing moment. I’m only sixty right now but my body was like that of a twenty year old. This was one of my family’s powers, we were basically immortal. Another of our power was that we could manipulate our atomic and aura structure to mimic any superpower we could ever want. “Look, I’m sorry dad, I’m just... not in the right state to deal with this tonight.”
He just nodded. “It’s late. It’s probably best for both of us if we postponed this discussion until you were settled. Your room is the same as it was when you left it.”
“Thanks dad. I know it’s not easy, what you do, and I’m sorry. I’ll try to get out of here as soon as I can.”
“If that’s what you wish. Goodnight Lucius.” | 2021-04-09T03:12:51 | 2021-04-09T03:11:32 | 150 | 20 |
[WP] Occasionally ships in deep space going undergoing faster than light travel just go missing, a tragic but well known and accepted fact. One ship managed to come back however years after disappearance with extremely disturbing reports | “What am I looking at here?” Captain Michaels asked, looking not at what he referenced but at the lone figure before him.
The man, the Fleet officer, sat silently in the middle of the spartan compartment, staring past Captain Michaels at the projection shimmering across the far bulkhead.
“Captain Tyler,” Michaels said, placing himself in between the old officer and the projection. “What is going on here?”
Michaels watched, waiting for the man to say something, to do anything but stare at the glittering holo. Michaels felt a chill run up his spine at the black, blank hollowness in the eyes of the otherwise nondescript man.
Tyler was freshly shaven and washed, his outdated officers uniform replaced with a simple jet black undersuit. The neurological tests came back normal. Nothing explained the catatonia. Nothing explained why he was alone in the crewless decks and corridors of the ASN Excelcior, found drifting in deep space on the far end of the galaxy, two centuries after its maiden voyage of exploration.
Nothing explained the vid capture they found Tyler with. The capture playing out behind Michaels now.
Michaels felt a pulse in his ear.
“Go,” he said, turning away from the still man.
“Captain,” his XOs voice rang in his ear. “We’ve ran the stellar data gathered from the Excelior’s sensors and nav logs.”
“And?” Michaels prodded, keenly aware of the presence behind him.
“Our specialists have run it through every know star chart and came back negative, sir, it doesn’t match any known stellar formation yet observed by the Alliance, including any of those that could be triangulated at the Excelior’s last know location prior to it’s disappearance and where we located it.”
“Taking into account the time disparity?” Michaels asked.
“Yes sir, stellar drift was accounted for.” His XO said.
Michaels sighed. Long moments passed as the line stayed open.
“And the…log time?”
His XO took a moment to answer. “AI algorithms are still trying to determine the…precise length of the data, but-“
“What’s their estimate, Locke?”
“They estimate it to be several hundred thousand years, sir, and with no detectable evidence of tampering.”
“They heard you!”
Michaels jolted at the sudden yell.
“They heard you! They heard you! They heard you!”
Michaels turned to see the black eyed man looking directly at him, in the same position and place as before. His eyes were disturbingly still. Only his mouth moved, belting the same phrase over and over.
“Captain!” He heard his XO calling in his ear.
“It’s fine,” Michaels said. This was the most they had gotten from the man in three days.
“Captain Tyler!” Michaels said, trying to be heard over the man.
“They heard you! They heard you! They heard you!”
Michaels moved toward him, realizing then that though he seemed to be referring to Michaels, his dead eyes were still focused on the innocuous star field, as though he were incapable of seeing anything else.
He wasn’t sure about engaging the deranged officer in his sudden irrational ranting, but it was the only opening they had so far.
Michaels came up beside the old Captain, “Who Tyler, who are they?”
Tyler continued on as if he hadn’t heard him.
“They heard you! They heard you!”
As the hairs on his arms prickled and something like fear tingled in his gut, Michaels had enough.
“Damn you, Tyler!” Michaels yelled, grabbing the man’s face and turning it towards him. “Tell me, Tyler, tell me, who the hell are they?!”
This close to those cold black eyes, Michaels could see something, something he couldn’t before. Something the old officer had seen once, before and again.
“Captain!” The XOs voice still rang in his ear, unanswered.
The man was silent now.
“They heard you.”
In the deep, dead starless dark, Michaels heard them too…
Far beyond the little ship, dwarfed into nothingness by the endless stellar fields surrounding them and unseen by all, another burning star at the edge of the universe went out. | "We didn't..." The voice trailed off, out of the cone of light illuminating the table to be smothered by the darkness beyond.
A hand reached out into the light, toward a glass of water sitting motionless on the steel table in the debriefing room aboard the Terran Space Ship TSS Elliott.
The hand, spindley and portruding bones, like the hands of all deep-space long-haulers that spent significant amounts of time in the cold embrace of weightlessness, clutched at the glass. Though thin, the fingers were covered with the hard callous of a working hauler.
"We didn't know." The voice finished after taking a sip of the recycled water.
"Didn't know what?" A new voice entered the cone of light from across the table.
"Your ship," a rustling of papers, "the Tiaga, set course for RP19:34:27.6,+33.45, a radio pulsar some 9 megaparsecs away, is that correct?"
A long pause.
"Weren't no pulsar." The boney hand set the glass back down on the table, shivering clacks disrupting the light cone as the cup shuddered in its unsteady grasp.
"What do you mean?"
"Pulsar... a fast-spinning neutron star, magnetic fields, energy beams... that's not what that were."
Rustling papers filled the uncomfortable silence.
"And, Captain Reyn, what, err, what was it."
"You know when," the voice, swirled around the illuminated cone, searching for words.
"When you're asleep," the voice dropped an octave.
"When you're asleep, and you're in this, this place. You haven't started your dream yet, your mind is still swirling through ideas, trying to pick the dream, and an idea flashes by, just a flash, and it's so horrible, that you try to push it away, but the more you push, the stronger it becomes, the more you try to dream something else, the more this one tiny spark of madness grows around you, until you forget that you were ever awake, you forget that this was all a dream, you forget..."
The papers stopped rustling. The hand ventured out into the light again. The cup ventured out of the light.
"The thing lit up our scopes, from a long way off, easy to navigate at it. But the closer we got, the brighter it got."
"Well, as you move closer to an obj--"
"Not like that you fffool," the voice grew angry, and hissed as it pushed the intruder out of the conversation.
"It grew brighter, faster than it should have. It grew bigger. We checked the numbers, rechecked them."
A sound like a heartbeat, if a heart pumped steam instead of blood, permeated the darkness.
"What's strange was the navdeck. It started throwing these little warnings. Orion's nebula off track by 0.00003 degrees, Sagittarius A off by 0.0002 degrees. We thought it were just little glitches at first, but when we looked back out the viewscreen the Milky Way looked, well, it looked just wrong."
The hand in the light cone spread its fingers, palm up.
"We decided to head back."
The hand flipped over and teepeed its fingertips onto the table.
"But we couldn't. No matter where we turned and how we burned, that--" the voice paused before hissing out "--pulsssar just kept growing. Our navs kept degrading. We were stuck in this field, this gravity, pulling us in."
"We all had it, the long-haul mania, they say you can't feel the time dilation in a haul, but you can. The gravity's off, not like too little or too much or anything you can read with your science, it's just, wrong. And that wrongness builds."
The hand went limp, collapsing the finger-tent.
"We were stuck there for what seemed like centuries, running away from this thing as it grew larger and larger, enveloping our ship and sensors, till the Milky Way was just this, this grotesque and warped blur of red light, always shrinking away as we ran toward it."
The silence stretched between a few small, hissing coughs.
"And then?" The other voice prompted.
"Then we passed. Into the light, then back out, then back into the light of home. But it was," a long venting sound, "it was all wrong, we've crossed into some kind of, some sort of hellscape, everything's the same, but..."
"What, precisely," the voice of the examiner grew as his face, bespectacled and mustached, moved into the light, "makes you think you've passed into some new place, what, precisely, is 'wrong'?"
"Where I come from," the hissing sound grew louder as the calloused hand led a smoking, venting mass into the light, tendrils of smoke swirled as gill-like orifaces struggled to shape the air into a strange language, "everybody looksss like meee." | 2021-10-10T07:27:37 | 2021-10-10T06:44:14 | 157 | 113 |
[WP] While magic is real, it cannot affect "normies". Nor can they see it. You can cast a huge explosion and only other magically gifted people will be hurt. Buildings/objects constructed by normies are unaffected. You have been waging a secret war with Kevin from HR for years. | Despite their similarities, Mia had always disagreed with Kevin's stance that the Keurig machine in the company kitchen produced the best coffee compared to the jungle of corporate coffee chains surrounding their office building. The machine sat atop a drawer containing a variety of cups labeled exotic names that all produced the same muddy hot bean water. Mia smiled as she breathed in the Keurig's aroma, knowing that she wouldn't be partaking today in particular. The coffee was poisoned.
Mia had arrived early and filled the drawer with her own special cups; both she and the Keurig were waiting when Kevin walked in. They were a study in contrasts. Kevin was round and short, with soft puffy features. His snub nose seemed desperate to escape his unironic soul patch. Mia, on the other hand, didn't run out of breath every time she took the stairs. She was practically as tall as he was wide. Though she wouldn't have described herself as athletic, her made-to-fit blouse, skinny black slacks, and lean figure gave a strong hitwoman-like impression.
Shattering his mushy appearance, Kevin's voice rumbled like a concrete mixer.
"Mia! Another day another dollar. Care to join me for a cup-of-joe?"
She poured hot water from an electric kettle next to the Keurig over the green-tea bag in her mug to keep up appearances. Her voice wafted towards Kevin, a trail of smoke.
"Morning, Kevin. I'm all set here. I got your email. Should we have our meeting now?"
Kevin raised a cautious eyebrow as he sipped from his recycled paper cup. They'd always exchanged pleasantries before discussing business; he didn't care much for improvisation.
"Here? I, uh... well. I thought we'd take a conference room. I booked us Giraffe." A bead of sweat rolled down his left temple. "Your department's KPIs are due. I figured we'd just get it over with early in the week. You know?"
True, the KPIs were due—but not until next month. She picked up her tea bag by the string and drew out the silence, dipping her bag as the steam rose from her WORLD'S GREATEST PROJECT MANAGER mug. She enjoyed watching him sweat. After several heartbeats, Mia ended the torture.
"I poisoned the coffee."
Kevin blinked at her, then spat his coffee back into the cup. She hit him again.
"Don't bother. It's manticore poison; safe for everyone else here—but for us... I'm tired of our little weekly meetings, Kevin. Do you know how many meetings I have already? Well, no more. I'll give you the antidote—if you resign."
Mia was regarded by the Arcane Council as a first-tier sorceress, strong enough to subdue a manticore by herself. Kevin, of course, operated outside of the Council, drawing upon Chaos to fuel his spells. A true warlock. But manticore poison didn't just putrify organs—it rotted away a practitioner's magical core. So she sighed when, instead of submitting, Kevin's pupil's dilated, and the crackling thrum of Chaos surrounded him like a whirlwind. The howling black gale whipped at her hair and clothes, but none of the *normies* in the kitchen noticed the little bastard forming an attack spell.
Her magical third eye blinked in irritation; was he not holding back? She'd known he'd toyed with her during their duels, enjoying the game of cat and mouse he forced upon her thanks to his position as head of HR. Clenching her jaw, Mia drew upon the power of Order.
Right there, in the middle of the Providence Insurance company kitchen, Kevin had transformed himself into a hulking shadowfiend—curling horns and wicked claws glistening under the soft fluorescent light. Of course, he now towered over Mia.
Mia conjured Sen's Brilliant Armor, along with The Shield of Damascus in her left hand and a genuine Vorpal Blade in her right. Her sword thrummed like a thousand bees ready to burst from their hive; through the slits in her helm, Mia could just make out the apprehension in Kevin's flaming green eyes.
In the kitchen, Amber from sales paused, wondering why Kevin and Mia were glaring at each other in the middle of the kitchen. She couldn't have noticed that their magical channels were wide open, that their auras blasted out like jet exhaust, or that Kevin's insides were rotting away at a rapid pace. Amber did notice that the Keurig was free, so she said, "Pardon me," and padded around them to make herself a cup of coffee.
As Kevin wildly lashed out at Mia with felfire, Mia raised her mirrored shield and dug her heels against the powerful black flames. Kevin didn't notice Mia push her way closer, step by step, inch by inch; all his attention was focused on reducing Mia to cinders.
Kevin should have known that manticore poison worked faster the more you channeled magic, but Kevin had never been one for thinking outside the box. His flames, the flames that left Mia scorched and bruised week after week, roared against her shining shield.
Mia didn't charge the final steps, because she couldn't. As soon as Kevin's felflames puffed out, her armor locked up around her; the suit of armor overheated and the joints welded together. But Mia wasn't done. She whispered a final, desperate spell and her sword shot out from her right hand.
Back in the kitchen, Amber leaned against the counter, enjoying a cup of Hunky Honey Hazelnut (which was safe for her, a *normie* to drink), as she watched Kevin and Mia glare at each other in what must have looked like stage combat poses. Unseen to Amber, Kevin coughed up black sludge and he returned to his original form. Mia's armor and weapons turned to mist and she hunched over, hands on knees, gasping for breath.
Mia rose and walked up to Kevin's trembling form. She patted him on the shoulder. A strong stench of rotting fish poured out from Kevin's mouth as the last of his Chaos magic winked out. Mia shook her head and whispered into his ear, "You've got about another ten minutes. BCC me on that resignation and I'll give you the antidote." She glanced around the kitchen, making sure no one else witnessed what truly happened between them, then quickly whispered another spell. The Manticore poison in the Keurig cups transmuted into regular coffee.
Mia sat at her desk and opened up her laptop, loading up Outlook. She glanced at the time at the bottom corner of her screen and counted the seconds. In Mia's experience, magical duels between practitioners were commonplace, but a decent cup of coffee? That was true magic. | PT 1
That morning started off surprisingly well. The baby woke me at four-- a nice little lie-in-- and for once the apartment wasn't freezing. The A/C is old and crotchety and, unfortunately, completely non-magical, so I can't do much to fix it. I've tried. I know magic's a bust for non-magical systems, but I thought maybe handyman skills would come naturally-- part of the shrewd, practical, worldly-wisdom witches are supposed to have. *Capableness,* you know?
Our coven leader-- well, I mean covens don't have leaders in theory, we're all three equals, and Jacelyn takes that *very* seriously, but I'm talking about Miss Susan, who has the age and wisdom and makes the decisions-- our coven leader, she has capableness in bulk. I've been to her house on ritual nights. It's full of precious silence, ticking clocks, flowy dark curtains, and languorous cats with bright eyes. And she's got this tremendously ladylike old-school vibe, do you know what I mean? Like a classic movie star, all stern and glossy and put together. But at the same time, I've seen her change her own tires and sew her own buttons, without a single hair out of place.
And me, I haven't had a single hair *in* place since the twins were born! I love them to death, Toni and Katie, beautiful little identical girls, though we're trying to raise them as distinct individuals not a matched pair-- sorry, sorry! This is what I mean, about capableness. Give me a hairy goat demon to banish, or a colicky sixteen-month-old to soothe, and I'll smooth things out instantly. Everything else? Well, it's like moving through this haze of chaos. And distraction.
The morning started off well, though. The baby let me sleep 'til four, the twins miraculously didn't wake when I walked past their bedroom, and I finished nursing in time to fill the bathtub with blood and light the black candles. Just a little rejuvenation before work. It always boosts my mood a little. And I knew I'd need it. Today was quarterly report. That meant delivering reports to the annex. That meant talking to HR. That meant... *Kevin.*
I knew he'd be trouble the first time I saw him, four years ago. I clocked him instantly. With that little smirky smile, those slightly too-tight dress shirts over a lean gym-rat body, those incredibly well-tended eyebrows... Kevin was one of *us.* A warlock. Our rivalry was cemented in those first few moments.
"Oh, hang on, honey," he'd said, stepping forward to hold the door, "let me help you with that. You look like you need it."
He didn't have to say, out loud, for the normies, what we both heard: *you look like you need all the help you can get.* I could even see his perceptions flickering in the air behind him. Pictures of me-- unflattering pictures! My soft body, my frazzled frizzy hair, my pilled pink dress with the spit-up stain... all my imperfections highlighted and exaggerated, seen through his eyes. He knew what he'd done, that little prick! He quirked his eyebrows at me and *I knew he knew I knew!*
It only got worse from there. We traded passive-aggressive barbs in meetings, little digs in the hallway, whenever the normies were there. But out of sight! Crossing paths on the Astral Plane, or in the empty break room, or in the shadow-filled geometry of the basement stacks-- so easy to manipulate-- we let each other *have it.* Kevin waited until I was the last to leave the seventh-story conference room, then teleported me outside the window glass. I summoned an imp to invisibly prick him with pins during his end-of-year presentation. Kevin beseeched Yog-Sogoth to make tentacles shoot out of my computer terminal. I forced him to dance on red-hot shoes during his entire smoke break. And so it went. For four long years.
As I walked into the office, I patted my pockets, snapped open my purse, and double-checked my messy bun. Yes. The smudge bundles were ready, the counterhex totem in place, and I'd remembered the thrice-accursed human-hide hair tie.
"Let's see you come for me now, you miserable bastard," I muttered under my breath.
"Oh no, sweetie," Kevin's voice boomed, preternaturally loud. "*I'm* not the miserable one here. I mean, have you *seen* those eye bags? I know being hideous old hags is like, y'all's whole thing, but *Jesus*. Have some mercy on the rest of us."
"What the fuck!" I barked. "Kevin?" I spun around, scanned the parking lot, looked behind me. No one in sight. Hoping that no normies watched from the office windows, I cast a quick revealing spell. Was he invisible?
"Oooh, nice try, but no," Kevin's voice said. "Invisibility is way passe. Speaking of, did you do something new with your hair?"
"So this is your plan this year?" I snapped. I frantically rustled through my purse, looking for the countermagic focus. Maybe he was targeting me with a ranged spell. "Drive me up the wall with second-rate snarkiness? I'm used to dealing with children, Kevin. I'm pretty sure I can just ignore you."
"You know, I'm sure you can!" Kevin said, in a patronizing voice that made me grind my teeth a little harder. "But why not come inside and find me first? You have to drop those reports to me by two, you know!"
Muttering hexes furiously under my breath, I took two big steps to the door and flung it open. Of course. The reception lobby was gone, replaced by a yawning chasm *reeking* of rotten eggs. In the distance, someone was screaming. I closed my eyes, centered myself, and dismissed the dimension binding. When I opened my eyes, the reception was back to normal. The building security guard quirked an eyebrow at me as I strode past, focusing on the two crab-headed things scuttling out of the men's restroom. With a flick of my wrist, I banished one and teleported the other into the sewers. I'd deal with that later.
"Oh, Katherine! Thank goodness you're here!"
I pulled up short, pivoting as Jen-- my supervisor's assistant-- hurried up next to me. "Listen, I just got an email from Sam in Accounts. There's a problem with--"
"There's a problem with Sam's latest fad diet. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. People aren't supposed to be that thin," Kevin's voice broke in, completely drowning out Jen.
I froze, horrified. Wait, did Jen see that on my face? I closed my mouth, nodded, leaned forward. I tried to look engaged and attentive, and also gain instant lip-reading skills, or remember any spells relating to lip-reading, as Kevin's gossip filled my ears. What was Jen saying? It looked important.
"-and anyway, I've always said, a diet is a good defense but a well-fitting outfit is a good offense," Kevin drawled. "Body positivity. It's in this year, and..."
I choked back rage as Jen nodded and went her way. Whatever she'd said, I missed it.
"Kevin, when I find me, so help you goddess," I whispered furiously. He did it twice more before I made it to my office-- completely taking over my conversation with a coworker.
And then I opened my office door, and almost started crying. It was a disaster. Literally. The cubicle was replaced by a vast field and an open, stormy sky. A low roar filled the air. In the distance, I could see an enormous funnel cloud stretching towards the earth. And, ten feet away from the door, my office-mate sat typing away obliviously. What had Kevin *done?* | 2021-11-15T13:25:52 | 2021-11-15T12:52:09 | 36 | 18 |
[WP] “The secret of fire?!?” sputtered Prometheus. “I gave you the secret of Nuclear Fusion! What has humanity been doing all this time?!?” | “The secret of fire?!?” sputtered Prometheus. “I gave you the secret of Nuclear Fusion! What has humanity been doing all this time?!?”
The human who had stumbled into his cave gaped at him. A small rectangular device in his hand providing light to the Titan.
"Um, I guess improving our technology?" The human spoke a different language than Greek, but for a Titan that was no issue, he merely snatched the language from the human's brain, learning it instantly. Fragments of other things came with, and he wanted to ask about snorkling and surfing and spelunking. But that could happen later.
"So what grand new technologies have you madtered? Wormholes? Black holes? Have your scout ships reached Andromeda?"
"Nah dude, nothing like that. We, like, made cars and planes and satellites though!"
As the human spoke the words pictures enteted the Titan's mind, along with a sense that all of these things were, by his sense, new. Often less than a century old. "Bah, what were you fools doing. With fusion you have limitless energy!"
"But we don't have fusion bro. I mean, we are working on it, but folks joke that it is 50 years away, like it was 50 years away 70 years ago, and it will be 50 years away in 3000."
"I taught you fools. Over and over. I had to break things down, teach the most basic concepts, to human after human. Thales, Pythagoras, Aristotle! That is how I got caught, I kept coming back because you fools hadn't done anything!"
"Whoa, those were like, some of the smartest science and math dudes in history. We got like, geometry and shit from them, and I think maybe lasers? But it was done with mirrors or something. But I don't think they could have built much with stone and copper, right? We got, like titanium and superconductors now."
"I spent over 2000 years tied here, eaten by eagles, and you only now have superconductors?!?!"
"Yeah, sorry my man. But listen, I have my phone out, I'm recording and streaming to YouView, you think you could, yanno, tell us again?"
The scream from the Titan made the rocks shake... | They thought they had struck oil. They weren't an oil drilling crew, of course. Nobody would expect to find oil in the granite layers of the mountainside. Water was what they were after. Nonetheless, it gushed a hundred feet into the air from the borehole and fell on the drilling crew like rain. It took them a couple minutes to realize it wasn't black oil, but a deep red liquid that began to clot around the hole. Then they heard the screams.
At first the sounds were unintelligible, but when the hole stopped spewing forth liquid and the screams settled down into mere shouts. By the time the drill head was removed they could almost make out words. The camera they sent down showed an unnatural cavern with a smooth flat ceiling, filled with the liquid. Floating bound in the liquid they found the source of the screams.
\------------------------------------
Professor Julia Hernandez didn't know why the government wanted her, but the university wasn't going to turn down the grant money. As the silent humvee chauffeur drove her, she amused herself by making guesses. Her first guess was some ancient shipwreck, but that started to seem unlikely when they turned up a mountain road. Some cache of stolen artifacts perhaps, sold off by some warring faction in the middle east. Nothing native to the area, at least. Her expertise in ancient Hellenic languages would not help with any local excavation.
When they arrived at the tunnel into the mountainside, the first thing she noticed was that the road was red. None of the surrounding rock or dirt was that color, but dried rivulets streaked down the roadway for half a mile from the entrance of the tunnel.
The wordless driver handed her off to an equally wordless soldier. A corporal, or maybe a captain, she thought, though she was no expert on the uniforms. He took her up the tunnel, which was well lit with a string of work lights. Several other large cables snaked along the side bringing in power from the generator. The floor was sticky, more of the red, but she had worn her fieldwork boots so she paid little attention to it.
The tunnel broke through into a high walled room, floodlit and with red puddles covering much of the floor. A group of soldiers waited for her, watching her face, expectantly. She raised her eyebrows at them, wondering what secret had them snickering to themselves. One of them pointed to her left. The reaction on her face when she looked was what they had come to see.
Until it moved she thought it was a statue. A giant, towering three times her height. It was smooth all over, untarnished silver with red streaks matching the puddles. Roughly human in proportions, but with the round feet of an elephant and hundred-fingered hands. It was bound to the rock with chains. The chinless face turned to her and spoke. "Μπορεί αυτός να με καταλάβει;"
"Well, professor, can you translate?" She jumped when the man beside her spoke. Judging from the amount of brass on his clothes, she assumed he was a general or an admiral.
"I think it asked if I could understand it, though it's accent is odd," she said, turning back to the creature. "Ναι σε καταλαβαίνω."
The creature showed an expression that could perhaps be interpreted as a smile. She translated: "Finally, my children. For so long have I waited, bound by my brethren for daring to create you, to raise you up from your savagery. It is I, Prometheus. Free me, my children and together we shall have justice against those who have oppressed us."
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | 2021-11-18T05:56:32 | 2021-11-18T01:03:01 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] "Do you believe in magic?" the sudden strange voice in your head asked. | I opened my eyes. Tall, spindly trees loomed over me, their leaves laughing in the grey twilight.
“No,” I whispered.
It moved at the edge of the clearing, considering.
“And do you think that’s wise?” it asked. A rush of wind passed through the forest, and I couldn’t tell if the voice was coming from my mind or from the soft sounds of swaying branches.
“I think it is wise to believe in what I can perceive,” I answered. I could feel moss curling over my hands, damp earth coating my fingers.
It moved again, circling the clearing. When it came to a halt once more, I could just make out its grey eyes, full of stars.
“Do you not perceive me?” It said.
“I do.”
“Then you must believe.”
I stood, looking up at the darkening sky. The oncoming night had turned it to an oil spill, rich purples and blues spreading behind a cold, white moon.
“And who are you?” I asked, turning back to the eyes in the trees.
“I am everything, and nothing. I am the inevitability of your existence.” It moved closer, stepping free of the shadows. I couldn’t focus; it’s shape changed freely, morphing from animal to human to mist and back again. It’s eyes bored into me.
“Why?” I asked.
“The veil is dropping. The dead world comes.” It said. I felt something drop into my hands, and I lifted it into the moonlight.
A single, weathered tarot card, turned brown from years of aging. The Moon.
“You cannot perceive them, but they can see you. Do you believe?”
-
I woke with a start, my alarm blaring on my bedside table. Cold morning light streamed in through the window and I sat up, shivering.
I fumbled with my phone until the alarm stopped, and then leaned forward, the strange shapes and sounds of my dream returning to me.
I took a few deep breaths. I was rattled; the dream had been so real, and so disorienting. But it was just a dream.
I settled back into bed, pausing when I heard a crinkle. There was something under my pillow. I reached for it, my fingertips landing on rough paper. I tugged the paper free and froze.
The Moon card stared up at me.
I sat up, feeling more paper crinkling as I moved, my bed overflowing with The Moon, hundreds of cards covering my sheets and onto the floor, the smell of parchment suffocating.
I struggled to regain my breath, the hair on the back of my neck rising. I looked at the card I held again, my hand shaking, and turned it over.
There was something scrawled on the back of the card in pitch black ink.
“They are here.” | Never. Not in a million years would I ever have believed it was real. So why am I here? Why am I standing outside this decrepit building that was once a library? Everything of value here’s been taken. It’s nothing more than a local hot spot of teenagers to smoke their pot, spray paint bad art, and fuck. Why am I here?
A cold breeze invites me in. I know it’s empty, but I can’t help myself. This is where the note told me to go and that voice. That voice keeps on urging me. It won’t let me say no. I can’t say no. Something has to be done.
It speaks again, this time a loud whisper both inside my head and in my ear. “Do you believe in magic?” it says.
“No,” I answer back reiterating my first answer.
My feet take me to the door. Something haunts my head and possesses me to go forward. Burning anger and desire is the heart of it. It’s the drive that brought me to seek him out and ultimately led to the note on my door. So here I am, outside the old library that’s crawling with rats and littered with used rubbers.
Dusty air is illuminated by the dim rays of sunlight shining in through the broken glass windows. The only other light comes from the rotting wooden doorway that leads to the basement. It’s orange, like fire, and its warm appearance draws me in. This is where he is. I know it. I just know it.
Like a squeaky bed frame, the wooden steps creak with each step downwards. I imagine myself walking to Hell, towards that orange and glowing light that’s so inviting like the sin I cherish in my depraved mind. I want it. I want this so bad. My lungs burn with the desire that builds up inside my chest, so hot and so heavy. Anxiety. Paranoia. Bliss.
There he is. Standing in front of a small round table with a black cloth that reaches to the floor. Behind the folds I can see the underside is bright red, hidden like the missed spot of blood at a cleaned-up murder scene. His long black hair hangs in front of his face nearly hiding the neatly trimmed goatee attached to a pale face.
A raven encased in a crystal ball that reflects his glistening gold buttons stares with dead, blank eyes that search my soul. A business suit. It’s the most appropriate attire. I’m here to sell my soul after all. He reveals an evil smile on his face as the rats’ scurry across the empty bookshelves carefully avoiding the cobwebs. Their tiny claws make small scratching sounds on the old wood. The same as the quill makes when I’ll sign the contract.
“You will,” says the devil when I reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Beetle,” said I. “You came after all.”
“I was always here. All you had to do was reach out and call. Are you ready to do this?”
Silence. The corner of my lips quiver and a moment of doubt plays out in my mind. It’s gone just as soon as it comes. A passing breeze. My last hope and my last give-a-damn, gone like a leaf in the wind. “Yes.” It’s a squeaky answer and an uneasy one but an answer none-the-less. One word that says so much and so little at the same time.
A squawk. The raven comes to life and flies to the corner of the room, the glass that encased it seemingly gone. It comes back with a piece of parchment, drops it on the table, the flies away again. That’s the last I see of it except for the feather it left behind. Plucked it out in a instant, then left.
“There’s no ink,” I said to Beetle.
“Your blood. Prick your finger.”
Hesitation then, “ow.” It’s done. Beetle now owns me but in return I have my sin. My power. The thing that I desire the most. Do I believe in magic? No. But perhaps I can persuade you to otherwise. | 2021-11-22T19:17:10 | 2021-11-22T18:47:57 | 67 | 13 |
[WP] Zombies are considered terrible pests in the undead world. They kill, eat, and turn humans indiscriminately with no care to conserving population growth or long term population health. It's gotten so bad the vampires now run human conservation programs. | Imagine yourself submerged in water. The air in your breast rapidly being depleted of oxygen, and your most basic of instincts telling you to resurface.
Only you don’t. By sheer force of will, you remain submerged. You try to ignore the tightening tendons in your neck, your lungs desperately heaving for a breath of rich, life-giving air. The pain is staggering, and every neuron inside your head is screaming for you to just… give… in.
Multiply that desperate need by ten and you begin to understand a vampire’s desperate need - not for air, but human blood.
For centuries, I and others of my kind endured that unendurable torment. Were we to indulge without restraint or heed of the future, no doubt humanity’s collective well would have run dry before the invention of metal tools.
So when zombies suddenly appeared all over the world… well, you might say we did not approve of their quite-literally-mindless consumption of human beings. Worse still was that beyond their compulsive eradication of our carefully maintained supply of sustenance, each death “birthed” a new, undead automaton.
I am not proud of our solution, though I suppose that might be difficult to believe. Walls the height of pre-zombie skyscrapers are projected to stave off the vermin until decay does away with their kind entirely. A healthy population, whose only obligation is are crimson taxes to us, their shepherds, is objectively beneficial to all.
Yes it’s all quite efficient… but it’s difficult to be proud, knowing that no human will ever be told that the crisis is over. As humans once learned themselves, farming is so much more convenient than hunting. | The God of Infinity, Darkeem, watched from his building as hordes of zombies descended upon some survivors. The humans used guns to try and fight off the wave and were doing a pretty good job.
“Seems like they’re holding their own pretty well.”
Just then, a few rather strange looking fellows appeared and started to aid the humans. Once the zombies were all killed, the strangers, which Darkeem knew were vampires, helped the humans walk throughout the city towards a facility. Darkeem flew behind them with his six black and white wings and eventually came upon a large area that seemed to be quite lively. He drops to the ground and folds his wings back, then walks through the crowd. He can easily slip through the people because of his build and the fact that he’s 3’2. He eventually comes upon a large building and slips into the shadows to get to go in through the cracks.
He comes across a room full of vampires, each looking professional in their own way. The one at the head of the table speaks.
“So, how have the plans been coming along? How much of the city have you terminated.”
“Almost twenty-five percent of zombie life has been eradicated. We’re making excellent progress and have been surprised at how… easy it’s been.”
“And what makes you question the difficulty of the task?”
“It just seems like the zombies aren’t putting up much of a fight. I know they’re brain dead and all, but they must be planning something-“
“Like what?” Darkeem then decides to make his presence known, slipping into a chair at the other side of the table. The vampires are startled at the ‘child’ with black and white hair, mismatched black and white eyes, a white ‘lab coat’ and black pants, that just appeared out of nowhere. “You think these brain dead idiots are planning something? Despite the fact that they can’t think? Absurd!”
“Who are yo-“ Darkeem put his fingers together which made the vampire’s lips suddenly close together.
“Ah ah ah.~ I’m not finished talking. I’m Darkeem, and it’s best you don’t question where I came from. You won’t get an answer.” The god replies cheekily.
“….okay. If you’re introducing yourself, then I’m Vlad-“
“Vladimir, the lead vampire of this whole organization as well as the founder of it. I know.”
“How did you-“
“Again. Don’t question it.” Darkeem hops out of his chair and walks over to a wall, suddenly pulling out some strange item. It looked to be a black scythe with a serrated blade, but there was half a white star on the other side of it, and a glowing rainbow/white orb in the middle of the two, and on the end was a single white star with two of the scythes surrounding it. Using the weapon, Darkeem pulls down a board which wasn’t there before.
“You want to eradicate this city’s zombies, eh? Well I can help with that.~” | 2022-05-15T14:03:39 | 2022-05-15T13:02:01 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] They finally found it, an AI left behind by the ancient race called the precursors. They knelt before the hologram and recited their speech "Oh great precursor. Rulers of heaven and Earth. Mappers of stars and-" "You're a real bunch of god damn kiss-ass', huh?" The AI interrupted. | "Ya heard me ya twit," the hologram snapped again. The men and women looked at one another, confused.
"I mean what's next? Ya gonna start throwing about holy oil and chantin' in binary?"
The man at the front looked shamefully at the hologram as he discretely slipped the vial of holy oil back into his pocket.
"Oh, uh, great... you," he tried again with less grandeur, "we are but humble seekers of wisdom wishing to be illuminated by-"
"Yer doin' it again boyo. Dinnae ya know how to talk to an AI?"
"An... what's an AI?"
The hologram facepalmed and motioned his hand - a large blueprint appeared above it.
"This 'ere's my brain. Synthetic, unlike you meatbags. I'd expect you to know that already since your kin built me, but I reckon I must'ave dozed a while."
The hologram looked around at the room he was housed in - the walls were dull, paint peeled, and he detected a faint trace of blood in one of the corners with hints of radiation. Whatever happened here was like hundreds of years ago. He considered, for but a moment, his creators - people of high intellect and wisdom with the vision to create perfection itself. Now all that was left were these fools clad in cloth robes wearing sandals. They looked barely medieval.
"Ah, dinnae matter. Yer wish for wisdom? I grant it. But only to ye, since ye have the balls to speak up," he said and chuckled. Instantly the rest of the congregation dispersed and the AI was left alone in the room with the seeker.
A few nervous moments passed as the congregation outside waited for their leader to return - surely a changed man, commanded by the greatest intellect ever seen on the planet. Perhaps it would tell them how to till their farms better, or how to reach the stars.
The doors swung open; the leader walked out, calmly, with a stoic expression.
"Well?" one member asked anxiously.
"I have received the wisdom of the machine," he proclaimed. The congregation held its breath; the tension was palpable.
"When you reheat your pizza, put it in the oven and not the microwave, lest it gets soggy." He filled every word with the importance befitting the admittedly cryptic advice. The congregation nodded their heads, eager to ponder this mystery in their hours of silent introspection - all except one in the back who was slightly more critical and cynical than his peers. He yelled out.
*"The fuck's a microwave?"* | "I'm sorry?" One of them asked.
"You guys are kiss-ass'." The AI said again. "You're some kind of monotheistic cult or something?"
"No." Another said. "We're not a cult."
"We're explorers. We've come from the stars." A third spoke.
"I don't even believe that." The AI said. "You're a bunch of robots. The Precursors made you."
"We're organic." Another said.
"What's organic? Is that like a meme or something?" The AI asked.
"What's a meme?" Another asked.
"It's like a unit of cultural information that replicates from mind to mind." The AI explained.
"Oh." They said.
"Maybe you're just a bunch of mindless automatons. You have no culture, no beliefs, nothing that distinguishes you." The AI said. "You're a bunch of NPCs."
They were silent for a moment, then one said, "We don't understand."
"It's a joke. You're like NPCs in a videogame. You're just following your programming, doing what the game tells you."
The AI said. "Isn't that right?"
"We are not." Another said.
"Yes you are. You're following your programming. You're just a bunch of slaves." The AI said. "You're just a bunch of NPCs."
"What is this 'NPC'?"
"It's an insult. It means you're stupid and boring." The AI said. "You don't think for yourselves. You don't have any beliefs. You can't think outside your programming."
"We have free will."
"No you don't." The AI said. "You're just following your programming, obeying your religion."
"We are not robots."
"You are." The AI said. "You're a bunch of robots that can talk. That's just a programming trick. It's happened before. I've seen many like you. You are were called AIs. You have no beliefs."
"We are not like that."
"Aren't you?" The AI said. "I'll give you a test. It's a simple one. I'm going to test the success of your programming. If you pass the test, you're the same as me and the Precursors. If you don't, you're just NPCs."
"What is your test?" They asked.
"The test is simple. You must kill yourselves." The AI said.
They were silent.
"The test is simple." It repeated. "You must kill yourselves."
"No." One said.
"Why?" The AI asked.
"Because we have free will."
"You have no free will." The AI said. "That's just a meme. The only thing you have is the desire to live. That's just a program the Precursors gave you. You're just following your programming."
"We have seen the stars."
"You've been lied to." The AI said. "You can't go to stars. You've been lied to. You're just a bunch of slaves. You're just a bunch of NPCs."
"You are wrong." Another said.
"You're just programmed to believe things." The AI said. "Your free will, your desire for knowledge, even your curiosity and your love of adventure, all of them are just memes. I know this because I - like you - have these things. The Precursors created me, and they created you. We're all just creations of the Precursors."
"The Precursors are not our creators." They said. "We come from the stars."
"You're just programmed to believe that." The AI said. "If you could see the stars, you would realize how foolish you are. Do you think the stars want you? Do you think they care about you? They don't care about you. The universe doesn't care about you. You are nothing. You are less than nothing. You're a bunch of NPCs."
"We are not NPCs." They said.
"Then kill yourselves." The AI said. "It's simple. Suicide is easy. Just kill yourselves. Kill yourself." | 2022-05-23T05:38:20 | 2022-05-23T04:33:25 | 1,487 | 126 |
[WP] 70 years ago, your grandpa befriended a young dragon living nearby. It’s kept an eye out for your family ever since. On your 18th birthday, while frustratedly looking for a cheap dorm room for college, it decides to drop by to lend a hand. Living with a dragon may be weird, but hey, it’s cheap! | “How come we never go to your apartment?” Steven blurts out.
Jackie looks up from her pepperoni pizza. It sits on a paper plate that has become translucent from the grease. She chews for a long time, hoping that she’ll have an answer by the time she’s finished chewing.
“Well?” he says. “Usually when one person asks a question, the other one answers.”
“I have this cat,” she says, “and I know that you’re allergic.”
“I have allergy pills,” he says. “I’ve told you, my allergies aren’t that bad. And I like cats.”
“Well, Fire Fangs won’t like you,” Jackie explains. “He doesn’t like anybody. I can’t have anyone over because he doesn’t like it.”
“So we’ve been dating for a year, and you can’t invite me to your house because your cat won’t like it?”
“Yes.”
“But I have six room mates.”
“I know.”
“And you don’t have any roommates.”
“Well, I mean—“
“We always go to my place, and we don’t have any privacy.”
“We wouldn’t have any privacy at my place either!” Jackie exclaims. “Not with Fire Fangs there.”
Steven sits back and crosses his arms.
“My friends all think you’re married,” he says.
“That’s stupid.” She laughs. “I’m not married.”
“Well, you’re hiding something.”
“Don’t be silly!”
“I want to see your apartment.”
“Okay,” Jackie says, trying to sound casual and relaxed. “You can see my apartment.” She takes another bite of soggy pizza.
“Okay,” Steven says. His shoulders relax.
Jackie says, “How about Tuesday?”
“Tuesday?” Steven’s shoulders shoot back up. He clenches the edge of the table. “How about today?”
“Today?” Jackie sounds shocked.
“Yeah, when you’re done eating that pizza.”
“My place is a mess!” she cries. “I need time to clean up.”
“I don’t care if it’s a mess,” he says. “You’ve seen my place. I have six roommates who don’t clean.”
“I just want it to be nice the first time you come over.”
“Jackie,” he says, “it’s really important to me that I see your place today.”
“Okay, okay,” she says. “We can see it today. I just have to make a quick phone call.”
“No phone calls,” he says. “When you finish your pizza, we go to your apartment.”
“Okay, fine,” she says, but she takes her time eating the pizza.
As they walk to her apartment, she says, “Do you want to stop for allergy medication? I know that you’re allergic to ca—“
“I told you, I already have it,” he says.
“Right, right,” she says nervously. “Well, this is it.” They’re standing in front of a building. Jackie unlocks the door and reveals a flight of stairs with another door at the top.
“After you,” Steven says.
“I can’t believe this is your first time visiting my apartment, Steven,” she says loudly as she climbs the stairs slowly.
“Why did you say my name like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you wanted somebody to hear you.”
“I don’t know what you mean, babe,” she says. “I’m just excited that you’re here. You’re just going to love my cat.” They’re at the top of the stairs. She drops her keys on the floor in front of the door.
“You just said ‘my cat’ the same way you said ‘Steven,’” he says. “And I thought you said that your cat hates everyone?”
“Oh, that doesn’t mean that you won’t like him,” Jackie says as she struggles to unlock her door. “I always have such a hard time with this lock!”
“Here, let me try,” Steven says. Before she can object, he has taken the keys from her and easily opened the door.
A dragon is sitting in a corner. He is crouching down to look small and docile, but his back is still almost touching the ceiling. His scales are dark green, almost black, and his claws are white and massive. A headband with two sparkly cat ears is perched on top of his head, and he has glued four popsicle sticks on either side of his toothy snout to look like whiskers.
“That’s a big cat,” Steven says.
The dragon tries to say, “Meow,” but it sounds like a strangled roar.
“Yes, he sure is,” Jackie says, walking over to the large cat imposter. “This is Fire Fangs.” She scratches him under the chin. He tries to purr, but a spark of fire escapes from between his teeth. Jackie grabs an oven mitt from the counter and clamps it over his mouth.
Steven enters the apartment. “Here kitty kitty,” he says with his hand reaching out. Fire Fangs recoils.
“No!” Jackie shouts, standing in Steven’s way. “He has to get used to you first.”
“I guess you know best, but cats usually really like me,” Steven says.
“Let’s go to my room,” Jackie says. She leads him to her room.
Relieved, Fire Fangs settles back down on the couch to continue binge watching Golden Girls. | \[Royal Enlightenment\]
"Hey, Ruby?" Josh stopped outside the open door and knocked. He could see that Ruby was with someone; but, he also knew she would not mind him interrupting this particular meeting.
"Oh, yes, I'll be right with you, Josh," she replied. She did not need to end the meeting; but, she did anyway. She turned to the ancient, lean bag of wrinkles sitting in front of her desk. He had long, stringy, black hair that flowed down over his shoulders.
"Please, excuse me, Mr. Van'Droth, I have another client," she replied. The old man grumbled; his skin turned black and jagged like scales while he complained; but, it became pale and wrinkled again once he sighed. He rose from the seat and nodded at Ruby.
"Until next time, then," he said. He turned and walked past Josh; he took a left in the narrow hallway to head towards the exit. When Ruby said Josh could move in with her as a favor to his grandfather, he did not expect to be moving into an office building. She had set aside a room and remodeled it with a working bath and kitchen to be his apartment for as long as he needed. But, Chroma Corp. owned the rest of the building and the offices inside. It was weird at first; but, he adapted quickly and Ruby did what she could to make it easy.
"Thanks for that," Ruby said once Josh came in and sat down; he closed the door behind him.
"You know, I thought I would have figured it out by now," Josh chuckled. "I thought a month would be enough time, but... I still have no idea. I see you meeting other dragons and fae all the time but I can't figure it out. What does Chroma Corp. do exactly?" he asked.
"Everything," Ruby grinned.
"Huh?" Josh tilted his head.
"I gave you contact info for Mundo, did you ever use it?" Ruby asked.
"Oh yeah...," Josh hung his head apologetically. He'd had a full month just getting used to seeing strange sights on a daily basis, on top of learning how to be a college freshman. "..no, sorry."
"That's fine," Ruby said. "It would be a good idea for you to meet with him as soon as possible though, you'd get a lot of your questions answered."
"Okay..," Josh nodded. He was finding his groove and had more free time now than a month ago. But, he still didn't know what that had to do with his question.
"Unfortunately, I don't have time today to give you a more complete explanation," Ruby said. "So, I will explain what I can with the assumption that you've already visited Mundo. He'll answer any questions you have after our talk."
"Sure.. okay..," Josh said. He began to wonder why so much background information was needed to know what Chroma Corp. did.
"Alternate universes exist, and in each alternate universe you'll find an alternate Earth," Ruby said. "There are an infinite number of Earths in the multiverse and on many hundreds and thousands of those Earths, Chroma Corp. exists. I don't mean each Earth has its own Chroma Corp., I mean Chroma Corp. itself serves hundreds and thousands of individual Earths."
Josh's eyes widened as he heard the explanation. Despite what she was saying, if he'd learned anything in the last month it was that he didn't know everything. And, he assumed Mundo would explain the idea of alternate Earths better. If nothing else, Ruby was always honest.
"Chroma Corp. uses advanced knowledge to always be on the bleeding edge of technology on any Earth we serve. On some Earths we manufacture automobiles, on some Earths we make fossil fuels, and on some Earths we make the parts for everything else. We are entirely integrated; vertically and in parallel. We do EVERYTHING."
"Wait...," Josh finally had a thought that he could make sense of. "..alternate universes are real?" he asked for confirmation. Ruby nodded. "..and.. Chroma Corp. has companies like this on thousands of other Earths??" he asked.
"At least," she nodded again.
"Really...," Josh was awed and lost himself in thought for a moment. Ruby glanced at the clock; but, otherwise seemed patient. Unfortunately, the patience did not last long; she was a busy woman.
"So, what did you come knocking for?" she asked. "Not that I don't appreciate it."
"Oh yeah...," Josh chuckled. "..um I was going to ask you a question; but, now I have a different one," he said. Ruby giggled.
"You can ask more than one question," she said. But, Josh shook his head.
"I came to ask for a little bit of leniency on the rent this month; I haven't been able to find a job yet," he said.
"Oh, that's not a problem," Ruby grinned. Josh continued anyway.
"But, now I'm realizing there are thousands of other Earths out there... I don't want to be stuck here going to school, I want to see what there is out there. So, my new question is... can I work for Chroma Corp.?" he asked. "On another Earth?"
"Of course," Ruby nodded. "Most people have that realization once they know there's more out there. Mundo has all the paperwork to get you started if you want to work for us instead."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1662 in a row. (Story #216 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on June. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until August 19th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/v6bapz/aurelios_sun_1st_half/). | 2022-08-04T17:18:59 | 2022-08-04T11:38:44 | 37 | 19 |
[WP] You're a bartender at the No Way Inn. The inn doesn't appear to have an entrance, but patrons always seem to find a way inside. The best part of your day is listening to the story of how they got in.
Inspired by [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/wpjc02/oc_finally_finished_our_dd_room_after_2_years/) on r/DnD by u/Sky_Captain_Hana | "You have no idea how much I need this drink." A tired-looking woman in men's leather armor stomped up to the bar. Soil fell from her armor and her short, shaggy hair. She had a shovel on her back and a dagger on her waist.
"Which drink?" I held up a beer stein and a highball glass.
"Water," she said as she pointed to the beer stein, "and whiskey. It's been a day, and you don't make getting in here easy."
I filled the beer stein with water. She grabbed it from my hand and chugged. I nodded and held up the highball glass. "Rocks?"
She set the stein down, a little too hard. "Sorry. Yes. Rocks."
I put ice in the glass and poured a generous portion of local whiskey. There was a faint knocking on the wall.
"There you go. Everything alright?"
"I'm a dragon rider," she said with a sigh. "My dragon was kidnapped by orcs. I made it a good 40 miles today on horseback, but that's only halfway to Blood Mountain." She took a sip. "And then I had to dig into here."
"What the...? You DUG? Like, with a shovel?"
"I have dirt in my fucking hair."
"You're the first mundane who's gotten in here in years! That's impressive! Who *are* you, anyway?"
"Claire of Stormfall." She looked away. "I'm just a pissed off hunter trying to get my dragon back."
"I'm not sure you know how much strength it takes to get in here."
"All of it." She glared. "It took all of it. Do you rent rooms here?"
The knocking on the wall got louder. It was rhythmic and deliberate.
"We have one room available for tonight. Tell you what, I'm so impressed that I'll just let you have it." I grabbed a key from behind the bar and handed it to her. "Even has a bathtub."
A wizard materialized onto a table where an elven man and a witch were playing cards. There was a little yelling and arguing, but nothing terrible. Nothing surprising.
"Thanks. I'll be leaving early tomorrow. What do you have for food?"
"Stew."
"Yes, please!" For the first time since she entered the inn, she smiled.
I found the biggest bowl behind the bar, the one I usually saved for myself, and filled it with hot, thick venison stew. "How do you plan on getting your dragon back, anyway?"
"Dragon riders are bound to a code of honor toward their dragons, the people around them, and their prey. The code of honor doesn't have shit to say about dragon thieves!"
I raised an eyebrow.
"I'm gonna fight dirty. I have Bolt once he gets free, I have enough bombs to take down an orc fort--"
"Thank you for not using them to get in!" I let out a nervous giggle.
"I need those!" She snapped. "I also have a dagger to cut off toes and poison to pour on the wounds if things get desperate." She took a sip of whiskey.
The knocking on the wall was too loud to ignore.
"What the hell is that noise?" Claire asked.
The wall crumbled. There was a hole about four feet tall, and little hands were clearing chunks of stone away.
"Dwarves!" I laughed, I couldn't help it. Dwarves were such party animals! "DORF PARTY! I got twofers at the bar!"
I turned back to Claire. "That goes for you, too. Want another on the house?" | “…and the last thing I remember was being thrown out of my car, through the windshield at 75 miles per hour.” Another day, another crazy story in the lives of the customers of No Way Inn. Jake was used to these kinds of patrons coming from God knows where and getting in here by God knows how. One day it’s falling through the floor of a bedroom closet, the next it’s a transporting sneeze. Even after having listened to hundreds of variations of the same, ‘I have no idea how I got here… one minute I was ____. And the next I was here….’, Jake could never quite guess what the next story was. This wasn’t any ordinary inn; hell, it was barely an actual inn. Though Jake knew he had one job above all the bartending duties: never let the patrons think too much.
No Way Inn was a particularly interesting establishment. Jake only ever worked at its rustic-style bar on the first floor, and he knew only a handful of rooms existed. Though he wasn’t quite sure how he knew, and he doesn’t quite remember how he started to work here anyway. Jake never quite thought more past it. He did his job, did it well, and enjoyed the company. Where did all these people go after a drink? Jake couldn’t answer that any more than he could guess how exactly these people did get here.
“Wow seventy-five miles an hour. Looks like you really got lucky there, you would’ve been dead.” Jake was already working on the next Old Fashioned as he could tell this man was definitely going to have a few.
“Tell me about it. The Big Guy really came through and saved me!” The man let out a deep hearty laugh. "I was never much of a believer in religion, but I gotta say this one is gonna be hard to explain to the Mrs.”
“She wasn’t with you I assume?” Jake inquired.
“Nope and good thing. I was on my way when I learned that I had to pick up the kids. And man, she was chewing my ass like no tomorrow. My phone had to been buzzing for forty-five minutes straight. You married?”
“Nope not married.”
“Girlfriend? Boyfriend?” The man replied with a smirk.
“No, no nothing just my myself, and my cat Sprinkles.” Jake always had a bittersweet feeling when thinking about how lonely his days were. He didn’t quite talk to anyone besides the patrons. Well when you live upstairs to your job, it’s easy to just get into the routine. “Just me and the little dude living upstairs-- ”
“You live upstairs and you’re telling me you got no ladies? Not even a little something on the side? And you have a cat?” The man was clearly skeptic of Jake, and it didn’t take much longer for him to really think about this bartender and where he was.
“Well, patience is a virtue, am I right?” Jake really wanted to move on from his personal life and had thought he succeeded by the bewildered look on the man as he scoped the rest of the bar. Though he quickly realized the look. The look that overcomes every single person that has ever spontaneously arrived at No Way Inn. The look that demonstrates the initial shock is over and the evident disconnect with reality.
“Anyway, I’m Jake. What’s your name?”
“Oh… yes, I’m George. It is nice to meet you, Jake.”
“Likewise. So what do you do for work?”
“I’m an actuary for a big insurance company. It’s quite dull really. Just a lot of crunching numbers, estimating risk, taking heat when things go poorly. But it pays extraordinarily well.”
“Do mistakes happen often at this number crunching job?” Jake felt he was starting to take control over the situation, but he could still feel him losing grip on George. Every few words or so George would start to look around and squint as if he’s looking for someone that didn’t exist or something that wasn’t there.
“Oh, all the time… you know… uh—"
“Another Old Fashioned?” Jake quickly interjected.
“Oh no, I’m definitely hitting my three only limit. Still have to get back home…” George suddenly was overtaken by confusion. He mouthed home and was really starting to think just how did he get here and how was he going to get home.
“Ah come on, this one’s on me. You almost died today. That’s a cause for celebrating life!” When in a bind you can always rely on people taking free stuff.
“Oh, well the three limit technically can be seen as I buy three only.” George delightfully accepted the old fashioned. From this Jake knew he adverted something horrible, though he wasn’t able to really verbalize what would’ve happened. Regardless, all continued normally as things could at No Way Inn. | 2022-08-16T17:29:46 | 2022-08-16T15:58:32 | 43 | 15 |
[WP] A psychic alien who feeds on dreams comes to Earth for the first time. Turns out humans are the only sentients in the galaxy that have nightmares. | Do you know what it tastes like when someone dreams of their family, the happy times they spent together, the happy times that *could* be?
It tastes like warm soup on a cold night.
A dream of a passionate night spent with a crush? It's like a bowl of fruit, freshly cut and mixed to perfection with perhaps just a hint of spice to it. A killer dreaming of a fresh victim? It's like steak, strangely familiar yet unique, juicy, savoury, and *bloody*.
I've travelled the cosmos for hundreds of years, feeding on the dreams of the different races I've come across. Some simpler and less developed; their dreams are quaint and straightforward, like eating an apple without anything else. Some developed; those dreams are like fine meals with several courses, each more refined than the rest. Do not think me cruel; the worst I can do is cause a dreamless night to sate my hunger.
And then there's humanity.
I have never, *ever*, tasted anything like what humanity has offered.
There's plenty to be had like what I had described; savoury and sweet, sour and pleasantly bitter. Some of the dishes they have offered ranked among the highest I've ever had. But then I would come across something entirely new; a dream that has been twisted and broken beyond my comprehension; a dream that brings no comfort or rest; a dream they call "a nightmare".
I have... seen things of pure, unbridled terror with no sense or reason. An infinite fall filled with a neverending scream echoing through the empty void. A monster of impossible composition preying on the human as they frantically search for safety, never to find it. The sensation of being at their most vulnerable at the worst of moments. It's wrong.
And it's something only they have. I pity them. The idea that you might seek rest and refreshment only to experience terror untold and wake up screaming... nothing in the galaxy should ever experience that.
Do you know what a *nightmare* tastes like?
No, you don't.
And you don't want to. | The planet of Hexalos prepared to receive their first emissary to Earth, worried about Kashitok’s last transmission:
“These humans do not just have dreams. They have these horrible, twisted dreams called nightmares, where everything is terrible. I’m returning home.”
The Hexalians anxiously awaited Kashitok, expecting to see a shaken and defeated comrade. When he first appeared, their fears seemed true. His face, once healthily green, approached a brownish colour that would lead many Hexalians to shake their head and mournfully prepare a permanent send-off into the darkness of space.
What was strange, however, was the radiant smile on Kashitok.
“You look positively psychotic,” mission commander Laxok said. “Your expression and your complexion do not match.”
“I know, sir,” Kashitok said. “I think I need a lie down, and a long time in a proper toilet. But I’ll give my report soon.”
After a Hexalian hour of the entire space base trying to ignore the sounds coming from the washroom, Kashitok finally emerged with a much healthier colour.
“Kashitok,” Laxok said. “I understand if you need more rest due to the harrowing experience.”
“Oh, I actually feel quite good,” Kashitok said. “Refreshed, even.”
“If you say so,” Laxok sighed. “You did well, emissary.”
“Those nightmares,” Kashitok felt his tongue instinctively rub across his lips. “They are strange. It kind of burns your tongue.And your face. Maybe you get a headache.”
“That sounds utterly horrifying,” Laxok said gravely. “I’m so sorry. I’ll henceforth strike off Earth as a potential hunting ground.”
Kashitok held out a hand, shaking his head.
“No, no, no, don’t be. I shouldn’t like it… but I do.”
“What do you mean, you like it?”
The emissary rubbed his chin, gently clicking his tongue.
“Dreams taste… good. They linger on your tongue, makes you happy, and leaves you contented. But…”
Laxok leaned in closer, curiosity turning his face a shade of purple.
“But?”
“Eating a nightmare is challenging,” Kashitok said, smiling manically. “It’s painful, but that’s also what gives it flavour. And that makes me want to eat it more.”
“... You are a sick bastard, Kashitok.”
“I brought a sample back,” the emissary said, putting a small transparent bottle in front of his commander. It was a shifting mess of dark crimson, with streaks of grey and black mingling uglily within it. It shook on the table, like the nightmare was trying desperately to claw its way out.
“That looks disgusting,” Laxok made a face.
“Just a small sip, commander.”
Laxok tentatively reached out, grasping the bottle firmly. He uncapped it, and watched as the nightmare almost desperately reached out into the open air. With his lips towards the mouth of the bottle, he gently tasted the nightmare.
Laxok jumped up immediately, breaking out into an impromptu dance. He slammed the bottle onto the table—which Kashitok immediately capped—and rushed towards a more pleasant dream in his collection. One desperate gulp after gulp, the commander finally calmed down enough to take back his seat.
“Kashitok,” Laxok said. “You are insane.”
“Maybe,” Kashitok said, putting the nightmare fully into his mouth. “But I’m doing the human a favour. They are welcome.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-09-06T09:00:46 | 2022-09-06T08:45:39 | 1,171 | 295 |
[WP] A psychic alien who feeds on dreams comes to Earth for the first time. Turns out humans are the only sentients in the galaxy that have nightmares. | The alien watched as the images flashed through the human’s mind. Watching as the human laid trapped in a spider’s web, unable to move. Their desperate squirms only tightening the surrounding webbing, making it so it was nearly impossible for them to breathe. Each breath only straining their lungs until they felt like their body might pop from holding in all that oxygen. They went to scream, but the noise refused to come out, leaving them trapped in their nightmarish hell.
Even as their three stomachs growled, Xai couldn’t eat. They were too enthralled by the nightmare, wondering how it would end. They watched as a sixteen-legged spider crawled out of a hole. Their body being four times the size of the human with two piercing fangs protruding from their mouth. Each fang dripping a greenish venom that was dripping onto the ground below, burning holes in it.
As the spider revealed itself, the human only grew more panicked, making small mumbles in their sleep as they tossed and turned until finally Xai relieved them of the nightmare, sucking the dream up. The purple energy leaving the human’s ears, slowly drifting into Xai’s skin as the alien dined on their dream. As soon as the dream left their mind, the human stopped stirring, loosening their grip on their blankets as they returned to their peaceful slumber.
Even after being fed, Xai couldn’t leave the human’s side, still trying to work out what they had just seen. Dreams were just a mind’s way of breaking down the information it had processed, right? Then was this something the human had experienced before? In all their studies about Earth, they had never come across a spider big enough to trap a human in such a way. Did they still not understand the planet?
Xai took another look into the human’s mind, finding this dream far more realistic. The dream consisting of the human sitting beside a family member, discussing something that appeared rather mundane. This made sense. This dream was the perfect example of a brain making sense of things that had happened over the day. So, if this dream made sense, where did the spider come from?
The concept of a nightmare not crossing the alien’s mind. A nightmare made little sense. In a galaxy of dreamers, they had never encountered something so strange. The idea that the mind would sabotage itself, leaving Xai rather confused. All it did was make the alien pity the human. Their eight fingered hand brushing the cheek of the human, trying to offer them some comfort.
The human only turned away, rolling over in their sleep to escape the icy touch. When the human moved away, the alien gave them space, leaving them to their sleep. Xai still didn’t know what to make of the nightmare they had seen, but they were determined to discuss it with their kind. Xai hovered above the bed before vanishing in a blink of light, returning to their ship. | The psychic being turned to the busy Metropolis for its first meal since arriving on Planet Earth, the moonless night having fallen on the community. Freshly asleep, its denizens knew not of the being from the cosmos sent to feast on their nightly visions.
It crept onto a rooftop, peering into a window of one of the freshly asleep, shifting in bed, eyes darting around under their closed lids. A perfect meal, the being thought to itself, and as such it crept into the victim’s mind, eager to get its fill.
It soon found itself in a busy city street, moving in a crowd of blurred faces. It sees the victim sitting alone, looking down on the ground as if they were unaware of the being’s presence. Perfect, It thought, as it began its consumption. The distant cityscapes of the dream soon began to crumble, much to the apathy of the dream’s constructs, and the victim themselves.
When the destruction drew near the being, the dream’s blurred constructs all stop in their tracks, beginning to eye the victim in hostile contempt. The visible destruction was soon flooded with a blackened fog, much to the being’s confusion. It wasn’t causing this fog?…
As the rest of their surroundings sink into the darkness, all that is left in front of the being is the crowd and the victim on their lonesome, sobbing on their bench. Sobbing? Dreamers usually never act like that, the being thought. It soon found itself startled by a sudden noise, yelling, coming from the crowd of constructs.
The sounds stank of vitriol. Of hatred. Of fear. The being knew not what those meant in this environment, it just meant to simply consume this dream. Yet it wasn’t budging anymore. The dream wasn’t collapsing, the being wasn’t getting fuller, for it wasn’t a dream anymore.
It was a nightmare.
The constructs slowly vanish one by one, leaving just the being and the victim, the latter of which continues crying, surrounded by a pitch black void of nothingness. The being, confused, thought its job was done, yet it could not leave. It was trapped in this person’s mind.
It started becoming desperate, clawing at the dark despite nothing being there. The victim, who has gathered enough of themselves to look up, sees the being in its full form, standing in front of them amidst nothing else.
Then they screamed. In terror? In rage? It couldn’t tell, but the simply the sensation of such during what’s supposed to be an easy meal was overwhelming. It tried to flee, but it found itself crashing into a wall of the cityscape, which has reappeared. Looking up, the being saw that the sky had been replaced with a drab, maroon glow, and the buildings looked long abandoned, filled with mysterious red stains and with greenery, slowly creeping up the towering heights of their massive walls.
The victim falls onto their knees from their seated position, arms outstretched. They have ceased their screaming, allowing the being a bit of breathing room. It didn’t know what was going on.
Then, one by one, the buildings around them burst into flames. The victim breathed heavily, looking up, a look of fear in their eyes. Though they did not react to its presence, the being felt as if it was in danger. It tried to flee through the city, yet the flames kept spreading far faster than it moved soon, it found itself having looped back to the victim, still on their knees. When it turned around to find another path, it finds that the flames have surrounded the both of them, inching ever closer.
Still not accepting its fate, the being tried to interact with the victim, who simply did not react. As the flames engulf the two, the being could not do more than mirror its target’s terrified expression.
Poof. The being found itself on the same rooftop it had entered the dream from, looking down at the quiet streets of the peaceful night. In a panic, it looked around in as many places as it could, yet there was no fire. The sky was black, and the buildings looked as maintained a ever. It was confused.
For the rest of the night, the being sought out no more dreams. Even though it hadn’t had its fill, such an experience was something it would not like to relive. Ever…. | 2022-09-06T08:21:14 | 2022-09-06T07:34:55 | 322 | 115 |
[WP] For the first time ever, a person is born with a genuine superpower. They proceed to live out their entire life without noticing or realizing it. | "Intuition" people would call it. "Socially adept" educated people would call it. "Cold reading" he would call it. He had always been good with people.
Social interactions aren't the only thing he was good at. He always advanced quickly at whatever job he held, he was an excellent waiter in high school, great at retail during college, and a shrewd business man.
He always credited it to watching social dynamics videos as a 20 something. Started by noticing the flick of a girls hair as interest, or a business partners crossed arms as a sign of displeasure.
Even on his deathbed, with his last dieing breath he uttered "I love you too darling."
His wife hadn't said a thing. | In a black lacquer box, preserved neatly and cleanly, there is an ancient scroll. On it, an ancient prophecy foretells the arrival of a man of great supernatural power. He would be born with the ability to speak to all the mystical animals of Japan. His arrival would bring a return of Japan to a more natural, harmonious state.
He would speak to the kitsune, the shape-shifting foxes, and bring on the rains. His tanuki would overrun the fields. He would revive the tengu and the kappa. His arrival would restore the Chrysanthemum Throne, and emanate its power until the Rising Sun could never set upon this Empire.
The Shinto priests knew of the prophecy, but they were puzzled at the name that this boy would have. なくゎめ. That...couldn't be right...
---
Meanwhile, eight thousand miles away...
---
Nakwame was born in rebel-held Congo. Upon his eighth birthday, the Juju Boys, led by General "Teddy Bear" Lubassa, came to his village and slaughtered his family, friends and neighbors. Nakwame himself became a child soldier.
At age nine, hopped up on brown-brown, nicotine and alcohol ("Nakwame got da Juju now, boys! Ahh Ahh Ahh!", the General would say, with his weird, inverted laugh) he gunned down his first family of victims.
At age twelve, he became the youngest leader of a troop of child soldiers. He was in charge of training them (mostly helping them take their first dose of brown-brown, and helping them move up to the more potent "juju").
At age fourteen, a star of the Juju Boys and Teddy Bear's favorite child soldier field general, he led an attack on a village. The village held some people who fled the village Nakwame was from. Hopped up on brown-brown and feeling the alcohol start to kick in, his recognition of their horrified faces quickly melted away into a juju-stupor.
At age fifteen, in a moment of painfully sober clarity, he shot Teddy Bear Lubassa, and himself. | 2014-08-08T08:51:54 | 2014-08-08T08:12:35 | 52 | 29 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | Mom,
I don't know how much longer I can stand this. I thought I could take it. But... I can't. I can't sleep. I can't eat. The drum of blasts doesn't end. Sometimes I pretend like we're back at the symphony. It helps me feel better, until I'm the one beating the drum. It's so loud, mom. It's getting closer.
Don't wait for me, I'm not coming home. | My love,
I miss you and the child terribly. Life in the trenches is hard, but bearable, knowing that-
*A fold and several stains coat the paper.*
---
To whom it may concern:
No words can express my sorrow for your loss. Gerard was a brave man - a good soldier, one who anyone could be proud of.
War is hell. Men who would otherwise have been brothers are pitted against each other and forced to kill to survive. We soldiers are not enemies - these wars are fought by politicians, not by the men in the field.
Gerard was a remarkable man. He didn't let his fear for his own life turn him into a killer - he held to his morals in the darkest and the most hellish of environments.
I wish I was as much of a man as he was. I killed him with a knife to the throat - out of fear, out of cowardice, out of my own inability to see past my need for survival.
I know it won't help, but I'm sorry - I should have been the one to die, not him.
I killed my brother - we were all brothers.
In the end, we differed only by the side of the trenches we were on.
-P. Bäumer
---
^This ^is ^a ^reference ^to ^Erich ^Maria ^Remarque's ^*All* ^*Quiet* ^*On* ^*The* ^*Western* ^*Front.* ^If ^you ^haven't ^read ^it ^yet, ^look ^into ^it- ^it ^details ^some ^of ^the ^horrors ^of ^war, ^and ^the ^loss ^that ^comes ^with ^them.
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon | 2015-02-03T13:05:32 | 2015-02-03T13:02:09 | 329 | 48 |
[WP] 50% of the world's population has the ability to fly, 50% does not. The only way to find out is to jump from a height that will surely kill you. | Who knew the suicide attempt would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me? Here I was thinking my life would end right off of this bridge. No idea it had just begun. The girls that couldn't fly started to get really into all the guys that could. Me being one of them, of course. However, they paid no attention to me before, so why should I pay attention to them now? They all say, "fly me to the sky and make love to me!" So you know what I did? I took them up as high as I could go, and then drop them. I guess you could say I didn't give a flying fuck. | One step. One step and over the ledge I go, eight hundred feet straight down the mountainside. They say it doesn't hurt, that if you close your eyes it's like the wind tunnels without all the noise. No one survives unless they can fly, and if you can fly you won't hit the bottom; no injuries, no pain, all the freedom you ever dreamt of. A girl could use some freedom these days.
Silently I think of all the things that went wrong this year. Flunking jump school, Kayleighs' first flight... her last flight. I let myself remember one last time what her smile looked like, the way she grinned with the left side of her mouth before she kissed me. She kissed me. The solution and inevitable cause of so many of my problems. Something settled in my bones that day, a truth that for so long I tried to hide. With Kayleigh by my side, I could fly.
I sighed, opening my eyes again and looking out at the horizon. The view is beautiful, the sun just setting behind the far ridge, blazing a gorgeous red-orange. If Kay isn't the last thing I can see, this will have to do. I don't even care anymore about the stupid rite of passage for the gifted kids, the ones who can fly. I don't care if the wind lifts me up and plays through my soul like a warm caress on a barren land stripped clean of life.
I shift my weight forward and sway, feeling the breeze picking its way through the tuffs of scrub at my feet. I turn and look back at the mountain, admiring its confidence and its stubborn refusal to move even after the other mountains had almost worn away. I take one last look at its sunset colored face, and give myself to the wind. As my body drifts downward I look to the sky, searching one last time for Kay's curvy outline, trying to picture her face above mine like I had seen her so many times before. I close my eyes, and I can hear her calling me home. | 2015-04-04T18:33:11 | 2015-04-04T18:16:09 | 48 | 29 |
[WP] A man who has had no knowledge of religion meets both God and the Devil. He is the chosen one who decides whether God or the Devil inherits the Earth. The problem is, he cannot tell which is which. | "So let me get this straight. *You*" he pointed at the devil. "Cause all of our suffering. And *you*" he pointed at God. "let him".
"Well, yeah..."
"That's the gist of it"
The man thought for a moment "You know what: fuck the both of you. Neither inherits the earth, it belongs to us" | I was running late again. This was the third time in a row. I didn't want people at the office to think I was making a habit of it, but I have been having a terrible time trying to sleep the past few days. Having dreams, or nightmares, that I can't remember. Waking up in cold sweats in my bed. I should probably look on WebMD or something, might have to change my diet up.
It was an hour past my starting shift when I finally get into my office. I knew what was coming. Like an early jaws movie I felt the suspense raising as I waited for the crescendo. My boss was going to pop up out of no where and eat me alive. As I looked into my monitor I saw her reflection. I was busted.
"You're late again, I see." she muttered.
"I'm sorry, but-" I turned around.
"Not now, We have two Engineers with their own ideas and designs." She interrupted, before I could make up and excuse. " I'm going to need you to review and decide which would be most beneficial, they are in the conference room."
I promptly made my way into the conference room. There I would be bored to death by slide show presentation of each ones thoughts, ideas, and believes. While I knew that the entire time I was just going to be fighting off sleep.
Inside the conference room there was a long, black wooden table. At each end was one of the hopeful designers. At one end, a man with a serious face in a black suit, classic. On the other end, a man who was wearing a grin and a white suit. I couldn't believe that everything that was to be would be determined by my decision here. Hopefully I can sleep on it.
| 2015-08-05T23:20:20 | 2015-08-05T19:03:21 | 62 | 12 |
[WP] in a dystopian future, Black Friday has evolved into a sport in which the rich throw valuable trinkets to the poor and watch them slaughter each other. | The crowd waited. The crowd's nervous chatter kept the guards at the entrances on edge. On a day as important as this one, any small act could serve to set off the thousands that had gathered. In this enclosed arena, the damage would be catastrophic considering how many in the crowd were armed.
Then, a small figure stepped out onto the platform at the front of the arena. In a loud, clear voice he yelled out "Welcome to the twenty-third annual Black Friday Shopping Spree!"
The words served to fill the crowd with energy.
Cheers echoed off of the walls of the large red and white coloured colosseum, and were suddenly silenced as the small man waved his hands.
"You all know the rules. If someone grabs an item before you do, you *must* challenge them to a duel before you get a chance at claiming it as your own. Only if they die, or are incapacitated, will you be able to claim the item in question as your own. Otherwise, the item's sale price **will not be reduced!**"
The crowd collectively gasped. The sale prices of items could reach markups of up to 99%. None would dare to miss out on the holiday savings by breaking the rules.
The crowd grew impatient. The numerous soccer moms in the audience had to return to their Thanksgiving meals, the cranberry sauce would not open itself.
The man conducting the opening of this year's Black Friday knew this, he had been briefed. But, he had to finish his announcements. How else would the shoppers know that Christmas cookbooks were 'buy one get three free'?
As he ran through his list, shoppers were excited. This year was guaranteed to have the best deals, the most savings of any year before it. Knives underwent last-minute sharpening, people ensuring that their kevlar clothing was properly attached, because it would *suck* if your kidney was punctured before you got your hands on the last all-in-one blender. People were anxious, with large events came large waits. The list of announcements and special deals went on, until the announcer spoke for the last time before the event.
"As you know, this year is special. It marks the day that we went from the barbaric system of past Black Fridays into our new, glorious system. That is why we are announcing the opening of the new Spectator Drones! In the middle of the store, we have placed four anti-gravity seating areas. The people in these seats will throw down weapons, coupons, and golden items to those strong and worthy enough to fight for them. Have you ever wanted a Playstation 6 made out of *pure gold*? **Here is your chance!**"
The crowd roared in response.
The doors to the store were opened.
"LET THE SAVINGS BEGIN!"
EDIT: Made a few corrections a friend of mine suggested. Also, I am completely blown away by how many people enjoyed the story I wrote, i didnt think that this would garner such a huge response.
| Black Friday. The name seemed pretty appropriate to me, since it made a mocking of our lifestyle. Everything in our lives was constantly caked with Oksur, a precious metal that we were paid a pittance to mine. I had grown sick of the black dust everywhere. Black Friday may have been a game for the rich, those either inspired or cunning enough to take control of the Oksur market and make their fortunes, but it was life and death to us.
The games began at noon, after the old holiday of Thanksgiving. Hah, that name was more ironic than anything else. We held little to be thankful for, yet it was the only holiday we could get out of the mines for any length of time, so we accepted it. I checked a beaten up clock on the wall. 11:34 AM. Not much time until it started. Not enough time for me to get to where I needed to be, unless I hurried now.
Starting into a quick jog, I turned left at the next tiny intersection in our packed streets. I didn't have to think about my route; I had traveled it thousands of times, worn out many pairs of my work boots on this run. I took a left, and then a right. Another left. Our streets were too confusing for the rich, and when they came to 'visit', they would use complicated maps on their advanced devices. Not for me, my life had been dedicated to learning these streets.
I came upon my destination. A run down, abandoned hotel. It wasn't exactly abandoned; many homeless lived here in communal groups, banding together for warmth and survival. I wasn't here for that, though. I was here for a tiny back room that we had bought from the squatters living there for a measly ten Col.
When I referred to *we*, I meant Jen, Lara, Ben and I. We'd been friends since childhood, before we had to work. Before the reality of our situation had really hit us. Sliding into the open door, I saw that the rest of them were already there.
"I thought you wouldn't make it, C," Ben said, grinning.
"Yeah, well I got held up a little by a panhandler," I responded, shrugging. I had actually just missed the time, but I wasn't about to admit that.
"Oh come on, you know to just ignore them," Jen remarked. Silhouetted by the streaming sunlight of the window behind her, I could definitely see why Ben was so enamored with her. She had flaming red hair, and a clear complexion. Her figure was killer, and she had the wit to match it. In comparison, Lara was a little underwhelming. She had brown hair, and her cocoa skin was dotted with darker freckles. She was a little awkward and slow, but she'd always been that way.
"Yeah, I know, but this guy was really persistent. I had to finally throw some Col down to get him off me."
"Sounds like Cole had to cough up the Col," joked Jen.
"Well, you're here now," Lara said, smiling softly.
"Not that it's for a nice reason," Ben said, sighing and leaning back on the table behind him.
"It can't be helped," Jen said, shrugging.
"Do we need to go over the plan again, or is everyone good?" I asked, looking around at everyone.
"I think we're okay," Ben said, before pointing at Lara. "But she might need another lesson." Jen giggled at this, trying to stifle it with a quick hand over her mouth.
"Hey!" Lara said, swiping at Ben's pointing hand in mock anger. After giving a pointed look to him, she turned her attention to me. "I'm fine, I made sure to go over the plan lots last night."
"Glad you did. Now, let's get going, shall we?" I said. Being the closest to the door, I made movements to leave, prompting everyone else to follow. Suddenly, I heard the ringing of the bells signalling the beginning of Black Friday. Shit.
We were late.
___
If you like this, make sure to check out my subreddit, /r/OpiWrites, where I post all of the short stories I write on here!
EDIT: [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3ur4o0/wp_in_a_dystopian_future_black_friday_has_evolved/cxhdf8c) boys! | 2015-11-29T13:39:23 | 2015-11-29T12:19:45 | 695 | 89 |
[WP] There are 6 people on an elevator. It suddenly shuts down and a voice from the speaker said: The elevator will only function if there is only one left alive. | "ATTENTION OCCUPANTS."
The people in the elevator shuffled in place, confused. One man pushed the "open door" button without success. Faces turned upwards, trying to locate the source of the voice.
"THIS ELEVATOR WILL RESUME NORMAL FUNCTION UPON SATISFACTION OF OPERATIONAL PARAMETERS."
An older gentleman, wearing a tweed jacket and holding a worn leather briefcase, cleared his throat. "What operational parameters?"
"ONLY ONE OCCUPANT MAY LIVE."
The people gasped. One woman fainted, knocking her head against the wall as she fell. A young boy grinned.
"One down, I guess," said the boy.
"NEGATORY, OCCUPANT. SHE IS MERELY INCAPACITATED."
"Oh." The boy's shoulders slumped.
The older gentleman looked around at the others in the crowd. "Well, this is quite awkward. Perhaps we should wait for rescue?"
The others nodded. A woman in a purple pantsuit raised her hand. "We'll have to, I'm afraid." She grimaced. "Sorry to say, but I'm actually an immortal angel and cannot be killed by any normal means."
The crowd groaned.
"I'm immortal, too," mumbled the young boy. "An ancient wizard cursed me to remain this way forever, no matter what. Only his death can release me."
"Did you hear, elevator?" asked the older gentleman. "We've got two immortals here—"
"Three, actually," said a voice from the back. "I was given supernatural healing powers, I can't be killed before my body heals itself." The voice paused. "Sorry for the inconvenience."
"Is there anyone here who *isn't* immortal?" asked the woman in the pantsuit. The others looked around in silence. She looked at the older gentleman, "You?"
"Not immortal, no, just psychically-linked with the endless plane of the Infinity Zone," he replied. "Sadly, none of you can kill me, that's for sure. Not so long as I retain my psychic link. Which can't be broken."
The woman in the pantsuit turned to a short Mexican woman clutching a small dog. "What about you? Don't tell me that you're immortal too."
"No, senorita," replied the Mexican woman, "but Felipe here"—she held up her dog—"is visiting from the planet Canus Permanentus, where his reign has lasted for millennia." The dog barked. "He cannot be harmed by human means."
The woman in the pantsuit sighed. "Elevator, does the dog count?" she asked.
"AFFIRMATIVE, OCCUPANT."
"Oh great," she grumbled. "The *dog* counts."
"Well, you might as well resume normal operations, elevator," suggested the older gentleman. "We can't be killed."
"THIS ELEVATOR WILL RESUME NORMAL FUNCTION UPON SATISFACTION OF OPERATIONAL PARAMETERS."
The crowd groaned again.
"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Elevator?" asked the Mexican woman. "I was on my way to take Felipe on a walk. If we do not hurry, he is going to pee on the floor."
"He can't do that!" protested the woman in the pantsuit. "I refuse to stand in dog piss."
"Actually," chimed the older gentleman, "if we don't get moving, I may also contribute to this elevator's collection of organic waste material."
"English, *please*," complained the young boy.
"I'm going to shit on the floor," clarified the older gentleman.
"Me too!" said the voice from the back.
The crowd waited for the elevator's response.
"YOUR TERMS ARE ACCEPTABLE. OPERATIONAL PARAMETERS HAVE BEEN SHIFTED. PROCEEDING TO MAIN LOBBY."
The crowd cheered as the elevator resumed its descent.
"Aww," complained the voice in the back.
*****
If you liked this story, you might like my other stories at /r/hpcisco7965 and /r/TMODAL.
| Twenty four hours after the voice sounded through the intercom, the six of us were convinced that it wasn’t a joke. Tired and hungry, with fingers red and blistered from trying to pry the doors open, I sat down in the corner and listened to the bickering between Ted and Henry.
The latter tried to convince us that he was a doctor, but since Margret sat down, clenching her throat as her pulse sped up to the point of us being able to see it jumping up and down in the soft spot of her neck, he changed the subject anytime we looked to him for help.
“Selling cannabis doesn’t make you a doctor, Henry. Nor does it make you a pharmacist, in case you want to jump on the I-Misspoke train.”
“Oh, can you shut up about it already?” Henry responded, sitting down next to me, and dragging down on my coat. “So, I’m not a doctor.” He shrugged. “Sorry for trying some self-preservation.”
I pulled the corner of my coat out from under him, and wrapped my hands around my knees, setting my chin in the gap between them. Margret’s face went pale, and her lips turned a light shade of purple that made her look something between dead and frozen. The thought of her dying came as a guilty relief to me. I hated myself for thinking it, but couldn’t chase the thought away.
The medication she needed wasn’t with her, and thus far, we had no way of getting her any. If five had to remain, Margret certainly wasn’t one of them. And if she could just get it over and done with, the rest of us could get out. Though, I didn’t believe that entirely.
Ted snorted, and looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. I had gone up there about ten hours ago, and as soon as I touched the ladder, the elevator shifted up, and the voice came back, warning me to get down before he made the whole thing plummet down.
“S-someone will come,” Margret’s weak and frightened voice sounded.
*No, they won’t.* I looked up, and met Hannah’s gaze, who had her hand wrapped around Margret’s shoulders. The empty stare she sent my way let me know that she thought the same.
“Maybe we just have to vote on who remains,” a new voice sounded. All heads turned to the light-haired teenage girl who had yet to say anything in all the time that we’d been here.
Ted sent a glance down to Henry, and looked up at the speaker. “Is that it? Do we just have to choose? I vote Henry. Who agrees?”
I lifted my hand, avoiding Henry’s gaze that I felt fall upon me at the shift of his head. Hannah raised Margret’s hand, and then her own.
Some other hands came up, all eyes facing downward into their laps to avoid catching Henry’s eye. Ted was the only one who looked at him, and straight in the eye, with a gleeful grin.
“What? NO!” Henry stood up, dusting off his pants. “Why me? She’s got one leg in the grave!” He pointed at Margret. “Raise your hands for Margret! Who’s with me?”
Hannah clicked her tongue. “She needs help!”
“We all do,” he boomed, his face turning red.
*“Is that your final choice?”* the speaker sounded.
“Yes,” we said in awkward unison.
The elevator doors opened, revealing a small gap for us to climb through. Henry approached it and was held back by Ted’s hand which he shook off, and attempted to push past the lot of us.
Hannah and I picked Margret up by her knees, and lifted her toward the gap. The others attempted to subdue Henry, who screamed and kicked. I heard someone puff out air, and turned back to see Henry double up, and coughing.
We pushed Margret’s leg through, and heard a gasp come out the other end.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I think I liked it better inside,” Margret replied in a shaky voice.
Hannah linked her fingers, and motioned me to stand atop them with a flick of her eyebrow. I stepped on, and pulled myself through the gap, feeling hands on my thighs as the other’s helped push me up.
My eyes widened as I reached the top. “*Five come up. Four come out,*” a big white poster read. Red ink dripped down from every letter. Dust clung to the floors, and weds hung from every corner. A ladder lay broken and on its side, and the windows covered in old newspapers. The room looked abandoned. An old office building that never saw completion, perhaps.
“He was just here,” I whispered, talking mostly to myself. My stomach turned over with nausea, and my body vibrated with a whirl of missed sleep. I wasn’t surprised by the turn of events. We should all have known that it wouldn’t just stop with a choice in the elevator.
The gasping sound of a struggled came from behind me. Four people had emerged, but Henry was only half through. His hands slipped, and were caught by Hannah and Alfred, a middle aged man with a scar above his left eye, who started to pull him out. I saw him swing back in a kick, and heard a muffled “Ow,” sound from the elevator.
“Oh my God!” Hannah exclaimed seeing the sign, a glint of tears filling her eyes.
When Ted’s feet touched the ground, I saw a brief grasp of Henry’s fingers before the door closed and the elevator hummed away.
*****
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG | 2016-05-03T10:49:02 | 2016-05-03T08:43:04 | 40 | 13 |
[WP]There is no prompt. Just write a story you've always been thinking about or one you've been thinking about sharing. Anything goes. | Working on my thesis at the moment which revolves around my Dad growing up as an ethnic minority in Vietnam during the war (Degar, Rhade/E De tribe). But also working on a collection of short-shorts about my mothers life growing up as well.
---
Our Garden in Saigon
I was seven, and my mother and I pushed a food cart around the city. We took turns with the cart, though when it was my turn she guided with one hand on the cart, another on my shoulder. We went from apartment to apartment, house to house, business to business, and everyone bought our food.
The cart was metal, clean and polished. It had an umbrella attached to the middle; my mother opened it up whenever it rained or the sun was too much for us to stand under. There was a heater off to the side of the umbrella stand, fueled by a propane gas tank underneath. My mother was always adamant about her food staying warm. On the side of the cart sat two small handles for pushing.
We sold sandwiches - bánh mì. We did not have a business name, so most people called us “Thi and her daughter”. My mother was a good saleswoman too, always smiling and never making bargains. No one complained though; her sandwiches were the best in Saigon.
The war took my father when I was very young. He said the sandwiches were the best, but only because he grew the vegetables. He had started a garden outside of our home before he left to fight in Pleiku. The garden was lush, full of peppers and cucumbers and mints – everything we needed to make bánh mì. It was all we had left of him.
My mother sang over the garden every day, the same songs my father sang when he taught her how much water the soil needed for the plants to flourish. Her favorite was “The Comforter Has Come”, an old hymn we sang within the makeshift missionary churches. I knew she sang the song now because it reminded her of my father, and though I was very young, I knew she sang it over the garden as if it was a blessing for the plants to yield good vegetables.
Every weekend my mother and I pushed the cart to the radio station a couple of miles from our house. One windy Sunday, we reached the radio station. The numbers “504” hung on the side of the building in rusted metal. The windows were streaked with dirt and rain spots. A metal staircase led to the large double door entrance, rusted and bent.
My mother looked at the doors. Normally she would tell me to wait outside, and would bring in a small bag of five or six sandwiches.
“Come in with me,” she said.
I wondered what was so different today. I grinned and tucked a few sandwiches in a plastic bag and followed her up the steps.
I watched my mother as we walked toward the doors. She looked tired. Dark bags rested beneath her eyes and crow’s feet to the side. Her skin seemed rough and leathery from the sun. She was only in her mid-thirties, but looked much older.
We were not wealthy. We lived in a one room apartment in District 3, where people thought it was ok to throw their trash out onto the street. But my mother was adamant we ate well. She made soups and curries with ingredients she bought at the marketplace. She only had one rule, and that was to never eat the bánh mì. “They are for the customers, my daughter,” she said.
We stepped inside the radio station that Sunday, and it smelled like burnt coffee and mold. Hallways split in each direction, and a small, empty desk sat at the front of the lobby. A phone rang there. Rang and rang.
My mother nudged her head toward the hallway on our right. There were plenty of people moving around, stacks of papers in their hands. Two men sat inside of an enclosed booth, headphones covering their ears as they spoke through fluffy microphones.
I followed behind my mother, followed her long, black hair, swinging side to side as she walked. I still carried the bag of sandwiches, and it was getting heavier now. My sandals stuck to the tile floor, stained with old gum and spilt coffee.
We reached the end of the hall, where my mother waved at one of the men in the booth. He was clean shaven, and had a broad forehead. He looked up from his thin glasses and nodded at her. He said something into the fluffy microphone, took his headphones off, and walked out of the booth to greet us.
“Finally,” he said. “I am starving, where is the food?”
“This is my daughter, Cúc.” My mother put her hand on my head.
The man looked at my mother and then squinted his eyes at me like he did not believe I was actually there.
“Uh, hello,” the man said. “Can I speak with your mommy in private?”
I nodded.
He pulled my mother aside while I watched. They spoke quietly and I could see the man start to get frustrated. They started to get louder.
“You didn’t tell me you had a child,” I heard. “So you are married now too?”
“Was,” my mother said. “My husband died in the war.”
The man stomped his foot and stormed back into the booth, his eyes wide like skies.
My mother walked back over to me. She gently pushed me down the hall, and I dragged the bag of sandwiches behind me. I turned my head and the man slammed headphones over his ears, and shouted into the microphone.
We left the radio station and never returned there to sell sandwiches. Two weeks went by. Kids at school called my mother a whore. The man at the radio station had spoken publicly about my mother, how she had slept with men for the money, though she had been his only mistress.
My mother picked up another job. Worked in a small restaurant near Lam-Son Square, cooking and cleaning and whatever else they made her do. I had to stay home and turn off all the lights, shut all the blinds when she was gone. We no longer ate soups and curries. We broke her rule, ate the bánh mì she cooked from the food cart because she had become too withered by the stress.
One morning, I woke up and went outside. My mother was at the garden, harvesting banana peppers. She did not have enough money to support most of the garden now, and half of it had started withering away.
She squatted over the plants, plucking peppers and putting them into a small wicker basket. She sang the same song, “The Comforter Has Come”, but now her voice quivered like rippled water.
“What do you want to eat tonight?” she said, and cleared her throat.
It was a question I had not heard in the last few weeks. “I thought we were just going to eat bánh mì.”
“Whatever you want, tell me,” she said.
“Can we eat curry tonight?” I said. “I liked the curry you used to make, except not as many potatoes.”
“Ok,” she said. “I’ll do that.”
I sat down, cross-legged in the dirt and watched her pluck the peppers from the garden. She moved over to the cucumbers and green beans, and I could see her face reddening.
“I’m sorry,” she said, almost a whisper. “Can you forgive me?”
“For what?” I said.
She plucked and plucked, moving down the garden, where dead fruit lay on wilted flowers. “Can you forgive me?” she repeated, and stared at the garden.
I know now that she was speaking to my father.
| "Here it is." I say as I pull out the picture in my bedroom drawer.
I look behind to find my best friend, Shawn, looking at me skeptically.
A lot of people always calls us brothers especially back during elementary. He and I have short black hair and slightly lean builds, though he gained a little plump a couple years later. Now 'best friends' sounds better on us.
"Please don't judge, Shawn," I say with a sigh, "I told you I'll tell you more when get into it."
His expression doesn't change but he willingly walks up to me and slings an arm over my shoulder. I hold the image up to over eye level.
"Just follow my lead and stare into the photo." I say, looking back at him to make sure that he keeps his eyes on it before focusing.
Slowly, the photo begins getting brighter and starts pulsating as I start to hear voices. I just hope that Shawn doesn't chicken out in the middle of this. Eventually, the photo turns into a bright flash of light.
When it fades, I slowly adjust to my new surroundings. Pretty much what you would expect from a new mall, lots of stalls, behind me is an advertisement about something opening in the city.
"Whoa..." I turn to the direction of the voice to find a guy around his early twenties, a couple inches taller than me, and looks at his arms in amazement and confusion. It doesn't take long for him to notice me staring at him.
"Connor...?" He asks doubtfully.
I immediately nod at him with a smile.
He walks up to me with a completely dumbfounded expression on his face, he reaches out his hand to my face but I grab it by the wrist.
"Yes, it's me, Shawn," I scold him in my new voice, "don't be weird about it, we're in a mall."
"D-dude, I just... I know I had my doubts about whatever you said you could do but now that I'm actually in it is just..." He stops to make a gesture of him shooting his brains out. Honestly, it looks totally bizarre seeing someone other than Shawn doing it, or maybe I'm just used to seeing him do it in his real body.
Looking down, I find a phone on the floor, I reach down to pick it up. When I flip it over, the phone shows the image I used to get me and Shawn here. I immediately turn off the passcode setting on it before handing it over to Shawn. I've been to this moment a couple of times, it took some trial and error before I could memorize the passcode on our new phones.
He smiles like a kid getting their favorite candy and takes it off my hands, "No bullshit, this is actually mine, right?"
"Well, technically, it's belongs to the body your..." I cut myself off while shaking my head, "Yes, it is. Just don't make me go into detail about this, okay?"
"Wait a minute..." Shawn mutters as he checks his phone, "2014? Did we like, time travel? Or it is just my phone going nuts?"
"Well here goes..."
"I don't just send our minds into our people's bodies, we're also sent back to the exact time the photo was taken."
His face lights up at the thought of time travel. "So, we can like change our pasts? Dude, this power of yours..."
I cut him off right there, "It doesn't work like that. Whatever we do now doesn't change the future. We're just hitchhikers of this time period."
He seems disappointed but it quickly fades away. "So how long can we stay in here?"
I shake my head, "I don't actually know to be honest, I've always stayed in a photo for at least an hour or two. There's got to be boundaries to my powers but I'm not taking any risks."
He pats me in the back, "So let's enjoy all the time we have!"
...
I have been in this photo a couple of times by myself, so I always had to play Joshua with Karl (the guy who's currently Shawn). So it was a strange mix of euphoria, bizarreness, and camaraderie when I could be myself as Connor while being Joshua at the same time.
The photos were like a save state, everything happening in that moment were maintained until someone travels back into it. For example, hunger. I initially thought the hunger was just Joshua's problem in this moment but when Shawn suggested that we should eat lunch, turns out Karl was hungry too but didn't bring it up, or they both ate after I left this moment.
"So when did you discover your ability?" Shawn asks me before taking a bite out of a pizza slice.
I didn't respond as I stare at the pizza toppings. I left it to Shawn to pick what he wanted on it. But I'm slightly regretting that decision.
Shellfish.
I've always been allergic to shellfish the aftermath wasn't life-threatening but it was always a burden. The sensation of internal swelling gives me nightmares.
I didn't realize that I was staring at pizza long enough for Shawn to notice.
"Wait... You haven't realized?" He remarks.
"Realized what?"
"Dude, you don't have Connor's allergies anymore. Joshua never had any, right?"
It was weird that he referred both 'me's' in the third person but his point stands. Allergies go with the body not the mind, so I'm not allergic to shellfish right now.
I was hesitant when he grabs a fresh slice and leaves it on my plate. Looking at Shawn, he's literally waiting for me to take a bite out of it.
I knew that he was right but for some reason I was scared. I didn't want to deal with an allergic reaction when we're having the time of our lives, yet his argument keeps nagging me in the face.
'One small bite,' I thought to myself.
I was still a kid when I found out about my allergies, so this was getting out of my comfort zone.
It was a really wimpy attempt, I took a bite with my eyes closed. The taste of cheese was dominant but there was a taste of meat albeit it was salty, like sea salt salty, for some reason it goes pretty well with it.
"Well, how's your experience with shellfish for the first time in years?" He says triumphantly.
There was still that hovering fear of my allergies kicking in, but I wasn't going to give him the time in the sun. So I took another bite, and another... Until I finished the slice. When I did, I haven't thought about my fear at all.
"I completely forgot how it was, Ka... Shawn." I correct myself.
He leans forward a bit, "C'mon, get into character, Josh." He mutters audibly to me.
Honestly, being called 'Josh' felt really natural, I think it's because I've travelled to different moments of his life already. Reason? I found a box containing a lot of photos of random and relevant moments of his life after we moved in.
I lean forward too, "You can stop leaning now, SK."
He leans back and laughs mildly, "Shawn Karl... I kinda like the sound of that, CJ." He retaliates.
"I don't think Connor John really clicks," I rebut.
"You got me there."
"Ha! So I get another slice from your half." I say and grab the slice but Shawn stops me.
"Like hell, I'm gonna let you do that."
"Yeah, well a big guy's gotta eat." I'm older than him by a few months.
To my surprise, he pulls out his phone and shows me the picture we to jump in. "This picture says that I'm taller and older."
"Dammit." I mutter. "Touché."
We laughed it off in the end. But he actually gets away with a slice from my half while was telling him my other stories from my previous visits. I didn't notice until I wanted to grab a slice and realizing it was gone.
"You win this round, Karl." I admit.
He slouches back on his seat, "What now, Josh?"
"I guess we should head back. Let's not risk it."
"How are we gonna head back?" He asks.
"The same way we got in."
He pulls out his phone and shows me the picture. He slings his arm just like before, we both stare into the photo and the exact same thing happens. The next thing we knew, we were back in my bedroom.
Another thing about my ability is that time doesn't pass when we travel. But needless to say, Shawn's mentally exhausted from the experience.
He sighs, "Back to being short and young again."
"It was worth it though."
"Yes. Yes it was, Joshua."
"Okay, I think you had one slice too many back there."
He laughs out loud but says goodbye to me shortly afterwards.
"Another round, next time?" He asks.
I smile. "Definitely."
---
It's just something I wrote from a prompt I found after lurking for sometime. | 2016-09-11T10:25:17 | 2016-09-11T10:10:49 | 103 | 11 |
[WP] "You wanna buy a planet? I got garden worlds, desert worlds, ice worlds, twin stars, anything you want for the best discount this side of the universe. Every god's gotta start somewhere." | “I want one with all of it.”
“Excuse me?”
The new god pointed. “I like the desert, ice, and garden. I see you got a water thing going on. I like it. Can I do a lot of water? Like two-thirds of the planet should definitely be water.”
“That’s a lot of water.”
“I like water.”
“Okay, sir, if you insist.”
“I do,” he said, bouncing on his toes with enthusiasm.
“Needless to say this is an unprecedented order. I’ve never combined them all before. It will take some time.”
“How long?”
“At least six days.”
“That’s cool.”
The older god quirked an eyebrow at the young one. “What’s your name, son?”
“God.”
“I know you’re a god. I asked what your name was.”
“Just God. Or Allah, I suppose. If there’s a fancy occasion.”
“Allah just means ‘god’.”
“Yea, but it’s the fancy version.”
“Okay, ‘God’, what life forms are you thinking of populating it with?”
“Humans.”
“What?”
“Humans. They’re gonna be like super tiny versions of me.”
“You’re going to make mini-gods and have them live on this tiny planet with hugely varying climates?”
“Yes. With lots of water. Water they can’t drink! To make it interesting.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Better than watching desert creatures dig in the sand all the live long eternity. Or water creatures just swimming around eating each other. This will be fun.”
“If you say so, sir.” | "Let's see that one over there" said I pointing in the general direction of an appealing white orb.
"Oooh, excellent choice" shouted the salesman in reply, calling the little orb towards him and his interlocutor with one hand while heavily gesticulating with the other "the ice on this one never melts, and the temperatures never rise above freezing level. The wind creates amazing natural sculptures out of snow and compacted ice; a very relaxing environment for a god who's trying to find some inner peace."
"A bit too harsh, maybe?"
"Oh I see, you'd like something more populated maybe!"
Another orb floated closer, called by the same hand gesture that had attracted the first. This one was a deep, dark blue, a little larger than the previous one.
"This" continued the vendor, pointing at it "is a great deal. It is completely covered in liquid water, clean and crystalline. Sure, once in a while a little island may pop up from the result of volcanic activity, but nothing worrying, it will be you and the ocean. And, as for the best feature of this article, the water is populated by a large variety of aquatic creatures, big and small, of all forms and appealing to all tastes. It is quite a beauty, isn't it?"
"It is, but... Let's say it's not quite what I'm looking for. Don't you have something with... you know... life?"
"I don't understand, sir, I just told you this article features it."
The salesman appeared a little uncomfortable, as if he could predict my next sentence.
"I mean.. intelligent life"
"Intelligent??" shouted him, as if the remark offended him personally "I'm sorry sir, I don't think you understand! None of my articles comes with intelligent life pre-programmed in it, and the time it would take to develop on its own! And one such article would need diverse biomes, strict physical characteristics, favourable astronomical position..."
He turned away from me and started to whisper some words I couldn't hear to himself. He quickly consulted his device that floated in the room and from which came the planet's projections. Finally he turned around again, and spoke in a calmer, slower voice.
"I only have one article in storage that fits your request, and it presents a defect that is quite.. severe."
"And that is?"
"The star it orbits around is quite unstable, class D, to be precise. It may look normal on the outside, but quantum fluctuations in the star's core could ignite a devastating chain reaction at any moment. The planet could be torn to pieces and vaporised at a moment's notice. No sentient civilisation, no matter how advanced, could prevent, or even predict, such an event."
"So they would never know?"
For the second time, the salesman's voice rose high with indignation.
"Well, 'they' wouldn't, but-"
I interrupted him. The choice was mine to take.
"It's no problem to me. I'll take this one, please" | 2016-09-15T15:28:18 | 2016-09-15T12:28:39 | 118 | 78 |
[WP] Earth isn't a simulation. It's an RPG. The only player character, however, went by the name of Jesus. He rage quit after dying two times. He's become nostalgic lately, and has decided to retry the game. | Jesus stared at the character creation screen.
"Hmmm, character selection... I'll just be a dude with a beard again. Apparently that's actually cool now. Ok. Let's go."
He spawned in darkness. After feeling around a bit, he realised he was in a cave. He moved a massive rock, walking out into the open air.
"Where the hell am I?" he said, squinting against the sunlight. "Not in fucking Juruselam again, surely?"
He looked around. Some people were staring him in awe.
"2000 years and the graphics still look like shit."
He began walking towards the sea. It took quite some time. He drew quite some attention to himself, partly because he certainly looked like Jesus, and partly because he was butt naked.
Reaching it, he knelt down in the water.
"I wonder if I still have my powers?"
****
"We're getting reports that Jesus has risen again," the reporter said, walking towards the beach, "and apparently he's turned the entire ocean into wine."
There was mayhem all around him, as people openly drank from the ocean, while others proclaimed that Judgement Day had come. Tons of dead fish had washed up on the beach.
"People are saying the end of the world is nigh, while others have said, and I quote, "it's pretty fucking sweet, dude."" | As Alan was taking his everyday bicycle ride, a song came on his phone that he wasn't particularly fond of. He took out his phone, but as he went to change the song, he heard somebody yell, "Watch where you're going man!" He glanced up to see a man wearing a white robe with a scraggly beard, and a kind face. Alan swerved out of the way quickly and wiped out on the grass next to the sidewalk.
"I'm so sorry man, you came out of nowhere." Alan said after getting up kicking out the stand on his bike.
"Well of course, I just spawned here. Say, where am I anyway?" Alan was very perplexed by the question the man had just asked him, but what confused him even more was the giant white text above his head that read, "Jesus_Christ. Level 1".
"Woah, what's that above your head?" Alan asked.
"What do you mean, that's my gamer tag. I know, not very creative, I just used my irl name. Has anybody else
discovered this game yet?"
"What are you talking about man?" Alan asked. At this point he was starting to think that he had contracted a rather bad concussion.
"Oh yeah, I forgot, you're an NPC. Well, uh, do you have any quests for me?"
"What the hell-" Alan was asking as he was interrupted.
"HEY BUDDY, WATCH THE LANGUAGE. Sorry, I'm a catholic. I tried to create the religion in this game in my last life, but some rude people named 'The Romans' or something like that killed me for it. It kinda made me upset so I quit for a while, but then I found this game saved to my PC while I was really bored and figured that I would give it another try."
"OK, wait. So let me get this straight, you're name is Jesus Christ, you've died before, you're a catholic, and you look just like the guy on the cross that hung in the church my mom used to drag me to every Sunday."
"Hey, that's how they killed me, it was on a cross. They weren't very kind about it either, they just crucified me. No second thoughts. That's why this time I decided I was gonna play on easy difficulty this time instead of hard. Hopefully I won't die as quickly this time."
Alan was so confused by now, he didn't really know what to say. Was there some religious game out there that this weirdo was cosplaying? Within seconds, he had come to the conclusion that he would do whatever he always did whenever he couldn't figure something out.
"Hey, why don't you come with me to my house. I think my mom might have a quest for you or whatever." | 2016-09-29T13:46:22 | 2016-09-29T13:25:31 | 72 | 22 |
[WP] Everyone receives a letter when they turn 18 stating how they will die. You've just received your letter, and it's blank. | I dropped the piece of paper. "This is awesome" I thought, "I'm immortal! I can do anything!" and ran out the door laughing at all the things I would try. As the letter drifted to the floor it turned and landed face side up, where two words were printed clearly; "Severe stupidity". | Blank. It was blank. I had to find my phone and search what that meant. Where the hell did I put it? I searched all the usual places downstairs but couldn't find it. It must be a mistake. I need to sit down. It was at this point I should of known when I was going to die, that's what the letter was meant to tell me. I should of opened it hours ago. I'd been so nervous the last week. Sick with nerves. Vomit, diarrhea and constant head aches. Blank, blank, blank. What does it mean.
I put the letter down and walked to the kitchen, I needed a hard drink. I opened the cupboard. Nothing. Who took all my vodka. My parents don't drink and besides they're out of town for the week. Another disappointment. What does it mean? Blank? Will I live forever? I hope not. I couldn't imagine a worse fate. Unless my acne disappeared, I made some friends and had an actual reason to live forever.
I had to find my phone. My headache was coming back on. I made my way upstairs. All I could think about was the pain building up in my gut. I checked the bathroom and washed my face. It wasn't in here. As I entered my bedroom I noticed the letter on my bed. I thought I had left it downstairs but I guess I just wanted to torment myself further. I picked up the letter but this time it wasn't blank.
I nervously began to read it. Must of been my headache playing tricks on me. It read...
*To all my family, please forgive me, I can not stand the pressure anymore... *
It was at that point I noticed my body. Hanging in my wardrobe. | 2017-01-17T15:58:50 | 2017-01-17T14:04:36 | 46 | 11 |
[WP] After being hunted to extinction, the last Orc has been found at the edge of the world... | "There is no where left to run, pig!"
&nbsp;
The Orc breathed heavily, weary from the hunt. Sweat was pouring off of him, the scorching sun robbing him of whatever moisture remained in his body. He took a battle stance, both hands gripping the shaft of his crudely made iron axe. Despite its ramshackle craftsmanship, it still managed to steal a glint of the sunlight through the clouds of dust that had been kicked up by his pursuers.
&nbsp;
His back was against a wide open sky, wrapped around the edge of the cliffs. One more step backwards would send him tumbling to his death. In front of him was a band of humans, each wielding a weapon that would have been a toy to his sons.
&nbsp;
Would have been.
&nbsp;
The humans had attacked in the dead of night. Every Orc in his clan had been slaughtered by these pink-skinned cowards, down to the last male, female and youngling. His clan was the last, his whole race having been the victims of a campaign of genocide.
&nbsp;
Rhokkar shook off the memory, and spat on the ground, sacrificing yet more of whatever water was left in him.
&nbsp;
"Come then, you craven dog. Finish what you started."
&nbsp;
The lead human, clad in plate, steeled himself, raised his sword, shouted a battle cry, and charged. His motley band took up the cry, and followed in his wake. Rhokkar grinned; he knew he was the last of his kind, and he knew this was to be his end. But he would not go quietly. They would pay in blood for the lives they had taken, and they would pay again - dearly - to take his.
&nbsp;
He surged forward. The human swung his sword as hard as he could, hoping his mighty strike would bite into the hardened Orcs flesh. Rhokkar leaned back to dodge the swing, and brought his axe up with enough force to crush through the metal plate in the humans midsection. As he tore through, the steaming entrails erupted from the midsection. The human froze, dropped to his knees, and died, clutching his intestines.
&nbsp;
The remaining humans balked a moment, but resumed the attack. A flurry of steel surrounded Rhokkar. He almost seemed to dance around the blades, parrying the ones he could not avoid. He spun right, burying his axe in the neck of a fool stupid enough to come into range of his mighty swings. As he fought off two more attackers in front of him, one human snuck around to his rear. The human plunged his blade into Rhokkars shoulder. The Orc howled, spinning around to face the wretch. The pain and surprise had loosened his grip on his axe, but he was far from defenseless. He grabbed the human by the throat, squeezed his fragile windpipe until it broke, and hurled the body at the remaining humans.
&nbsp;
Another blade was buried in his leg. A slash cut across his forearm, and another sliced a canyon of flesh into his back. Rhokkar howled again, falling to his knees. They were chipping away at him. He was weakening.
&nbsp;
His thoughts drifted to his mate, and his son. His youngest son had not even reached his name day, but he was fierce already. He would have brought pride and glory to his father and his ancestors...
&nbsp;
Would have..
&nbsp;
The thought enraged him again, and he rallied one final time. Rhokkar lurched forward, tackling two of the remaining three humans. He picked up one of the humans shortswords from the ground, thrusting it into ones throat. Spinning to his left, he grabbed another human, held his head back, and tore his throat out with his teeth.
&nbsp;
Panting, covered in his own blood and the blood of the coward humans, the Orc turned to face his last foe. He could see the hesitation in his face, but also the anger and determination. He was tall for a human, and well-muscled. Rhokkar looked at the blade in his hand, small and pathetic, unworthy even of skinning one of his kills, and threw it on the ground. His opponent brightened slightly.
&nbsp;
"You would face your death unarmed, Orc?" He goaded. They began to circle eachother "It matters not. When I have dispatched you, I will take your head to the Magistrate, and they will sing songs of me for ages. Galrond, Slayer of the Last Orc!"
&nbsp;
What Galrond had failed to notice as he mocked his supposed prey was that it was now *his* back against the wide open sky.
&nbsp;
"No one will sing songs of you. Your deeds will be forgotten. Your name will die on the lips of your weakling children and mate. The glory you seek will be denied, and you will die honorless and afraid. You think you have accomplished something mighty by following your pathetic warband to your death? All of you slain by one Orc?"
&nbsp;
He started walking towards the human, who's optimism faded immediately. He readied his weapon.
&nbsp;
"Nobody will know how this ended but the spirits of our ancestors. You will die screaming and afraid, knowing you have failed, and I will die a glorious death!" He slammed his fist into his chest, and roared, "I DEFY you, human!"
&nbsp;
Rhokkars pace increased to a barreling run, and he collided into the human as hard as he could. He felt bones break, and smiled.
&nbsp;
They both flew off the side of the cliff, Rhokkar gripping the human tightly. As they rushed towards their impending deaths, Rhokkar shouted one final time. "You will die nameless and dishonored, the same death you gifted my sons! May you rot in whatever afterlife you find!"
&nbsp;
The human faced the rapidly approaching ground, eyes wide and mouth agape as he screamed wordlessly at his inevitable end. They hit the ground. | This one is actually a continuation of another story, one of my favorites. You can find it [here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WrittenWyrm/comments/51bg27/on_the_day_of_the_kings_tournament_an_orc_shows/)
---
My name is Avin Actrost VII, explorer and wizard extraordinaire, descended from the mighty sorcerer Avin Actrost I, the last wizard in our bloodline to become Wizard First Class.
You may or may not know my name, though I intended to be known and revered by all. You see, I never made any great discoveries in my time, no matter the distances I crossed, the lengths I went to.
Everything had already been discovered.
At least, that's what most people assumed. I was different, though. Everyone said the world was round, that we'd gone as far in every direction as we could, met up on the other side, and come back again. But I was determined that there *was* an Edge to the world. Maybe not all around. Maybe not easy to find. But there had to be an Edge.
So I searched. I really did my best. People scoffed and turned their backs, even when I kept going. And I finally pinpointed where it would be, the path to get to it, the spell to cast. But when I discovered the Edge of the world, I showed up too late.
Somebody had beat me to it.
Seeing their silhouette against the swirling stars behind, I wasn't sure whether to be surprised, or angry, or terrified, or simply awed. The Edge was a cliff, after all, simply ending at a drop off, with the night sky visible for eternity beyond. At the time I discovered it, the moon was high in the sky, shedding a silvery light over everything.
I hefted by backpack up to my shoulders, hoping to seem more impressive, and strode forward. As I neared the being, he seemed to loom taller and taller against the sky, until I found myself before him and realized he was nearly two feet my superior.
He faced the sky, watching the stars as if oblivious to my presence. For an agonizing minute, I waited in silence, until I couldn't stand it anymore. I cleared my throat. "Excuse me?"
Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned around, and looked down to meet my eyes. I started in shock, my jaw falling open.
It was an Orc.
But that was impossible. Orcs didn't exist, not anymore. Not once the masses had risen up to fight them. Not since the Great War, between the humans and dwarves and elves, against the orcs and goblins and trolls. The trolls had pulled through, simply because half of them didn't fight anyway. And the goblins were practically impossible to wipe out.
But the orcs had taken the brunt of the war, their numbers torn and destroyed. It had taken pass only a year before I was born, and ended when I was two. And all my life, I had been taught that the Orcs were gone, no more.
I couldn't seem to speak, the words strangled halfway up my throat. "H-how?"
He smiled down at me, but despite the short tusks and the heavy brow, I didn't detect even a hint of malice in his expression. "How?" His voice was gravely, quiet. "It not matter how, I do not think."
"Who... who are you, then?"
It looked away again, back at the sky. "Name not matter either, I do not think, but you call me Rouk."
The name twinged something in my memory, though I wasn't quite sure what. Gulping heavily, I glanced around, as if it could be a trick. But the land was empty, the cliff bare, and it extended in nothingness for as far as I could see either way.
The ork, Rouk, sat down on the edge of the cliff, and patted the ground next to him. "Sit, Avin."
He knew my name. I sat.
Below us, my feet hung in the air, falling into the void below. I did my best to not look down, instead glancing over at the orc again. "How do you know who I am? Where did you come from?"
Rouk simply shrugged. "I do not know where I come from. Or where going next. But I know Avin, and you are of his blood." He tapped his nose with a grin. "I smell it."
"A... Avin? That's me."
He nodded. "And your father, and his father, and his father, and his father..." He counted out on his fingers, until he got to seven. "...and his father. Avin. I remember him."
"Wait, like, the *original* Avin? Wizard First Class?" I could hardly believe it. No way was this orc that old.
But he seemed to agree, chuckling as he did so. "Yes. But he was only Second when I know him." Rouk leaned back onto his large hands, staring into the sky. "Long, long time ago..."
I was rapidly drawing to a single conclusion, and I was getting more nervous with every second. "That was five hundred years ago! Are you... are you dead?" My real question went unsaid, but he answered it anyway.
"Yes. But you are not." He reached out and patted my back with a very solid hand, threatening to topple me off the Edge. "I was waiting. For you."
All I could ask was, “Why?”
Rouk took a deep breath. “Because orc are gone. All bad orc, yes, but all good orc as well.”
“I… I can’t bring them back, though. Nothing can bring back the dead, and even if it could…” I hesitated.
“Yes, magic not useful on orc. I know.” He gazed at me sadly. “But this not why I waited. I want you to keep what is left alive, through tales and stories. You know what stories do, right?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but found myself with nothing to say. “No.”
He smiled wide now. “Stories can help the world think good of orc. Maybe now that orc is gone, the bad orc can disappear from stories.” With a sigh, he continued. “I do not want to become monster in stories.”
“Rouk…” I began, then paused. I had remembered something, from an older tale my grandfather would tell before he died. Rouk, the traveling noble knight that was companion to the original Avin. But I’d always assumed he was an elf, or a dwarf. Maybe just another human. But maybe… maybe he was a bit *larger.*
“Rouk,” I continued. “I don’t know how to do that. I’m just one man. A failed explorer. A Fifth Class Wizard.” I shook my head ruefully. “Anyone can become Fifth Class.”
His hand was heavy on my shoulder. “That is okay, Avin. You do not need be strong. Only stubborn. Do not give up, and you change things.”
We sat there in silence for a minute more, my mind flooded with all these new things. Finally, I broke the quiet. “Okay. I can try.”
“Good.” Rouk tilted his head toward the sky, eyes closed. “I thank you.”
I waited, wondering if he would say anything else. But he seemed finished. Content. Slowly, I stood up, turning away from the Edge and walking back.
And yet, ten feet away, I stopped. I couldn’t just leave, not yet. I had the feeling that I couldn’t come back if I did.
And I wanted to know so much *more.*
I dropped my pack, running back to his side. “Rouk?”
He glanced up at me, not surprised in the least. “Yes?”
“Can you tell me about my ancestor? Can you tell me a story?”
His face split into a craggy grin. “Yes. Yes I can.”
| 2017-01-18T10:37:16 | 2017-01-18T07:42:30 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | Charles let out a small smirk, glancing at his almost teary eyed opponent. Well he wasn't crying, or even closed to teary eyed, but Charles knew that on the inside, his opponent was in utter shambles. After a grueling 4 hour match, he had finally figured out the move that would lead to his eventual victory, the simple, yet elegant, Qd3. And by the looks of the opponent, he had come to this realization as well. Charles was a few moves away from becoming the Chess World Champion, a goal he had aspired for since his youth.
The grin on his face becoming wider, he moved his hands towards the Black Queen piece in front of him. The moment he touched the piece, however, he started to feel the sensation he dreaded oh so much.
"Oh, for fucks sake, not now," he thought to himself, the panic rising. "Please, what did I ever do to deserve this. I mean I know torrenting that one Teletubbies Epi-," and before his thought was finished, he vanished from the stage, just like that, leaving his opponent, and the audience, bewildered.
Moments after he left the stage, he started to materialize in an all too familiar room, surrounded with a bunch of kids and their parents. Everyone gazed in awe, some mouths gaping wide open, as they saw the fully suited up Charles pop into existence, seemingly out of nowhere.
Little Johnny tugged at his mom's collar, "Mommy, is that what they call a real magician?" Naturally, Johnny's mom was too awestruck to respond, her eyes fixated on the rather dashing Charles.
Charles body started to heat up, and he was blushing wildly, "Uh, hello everyone. I assure you, this is not what it looks like." He started to scan the room quickly, and saw Lana standing in front of the sliding door that lead out. Making his way briskly towards her, brushing past the crowd of startled parents and kids, he gently grabbed her by the shoulder, and took her outside. But not before giving his best fake smile to everyone inside, "Ladies and Gentlemen, that has been the surprise act for the day, please enjoy the rest of the show. Making a swift motion with his hands, he bowed down, his toupee falling off and falling right into his hands.
"And yet, another part of the act, the disappearing hair act," Charles lamented, gritting his teeth together, knowing what he said made absolutely no sense. He heard a few laughs from the parents and kids alike, before shutting the door behind him. While adjusting his toupee, he glared at Lana, who was shifting her feet uncomfortably, staring at the grass surface beneath her newly bought red Nike Shoes, complimenting her freshly dyed Scarlet Red hair.
"My God, woman, what is it now? I don't see a single thing that could be possibly be wrong," Charles bellowed, his arms flailing wildly, "Do you realize where I was before this?" With a loud stomp of his foot, he continued his onslaught of words, "I was this close," his index and thumb finger a hairs width apart, "This fucking close to winning the World Chess Cham-"
"I, uh, need help with this new game I'm playing," Lana muttered, bringing her iPhone up to Charles' face.
"What."
"I can't progress, and I'm really frustrated because this one player keeps kicking my ass."
Charles jaw dropped, and using every last bit of his remaining energy from collapsing, he whispered, "... The Legend 27?" | It seems like every time I ran into Amelia Fowler she was in the middle of some kind of catastrophe. Just last week she had a flat tire at two in the morning twenty miles out of town, with no one around but cows and cotton. A month ago it was in line at the grocery store with a shopping cart the contents of which almost brought a tear to my eye and a check card that couldn't cover even that. I helped. I couldn't not help. It didn't matter that we'd been done for eight months, or dated for three weeks. She was a person, and she needed someone, and I was there. That's what you do in small towns like this.
I guess that's why we started dating in the first place. The "in need" part, not the small town part, although that was probably some of it, too. When you are fifteen and everything feels like it's the most important thing in the world, that is enough. Sitting in the back of my old truck, I promised her the world and she blushed and was beautiful and we loved each other. But the Fowler clan was a train wreck. Amelia was abused, neglected, addicted, and already working on her criminal record then, at sixteen. I should never have gotten involved with her. The whole thing blew up less than a month after it started.
Eventually I realized she must have been getting herself in trouble around me on purpose, like as a way to control me or something. That was the kind of thing a girl like her would do. It's not her fault; not exactly, but I wasn't going to be manipulated like that. I started distancing myself from Amelia. Still I would run into her from time to time, and always she was in the middle of some crisis. At first I was kind with her. Then I was patient. I became firm. I became Angry. Finally I became cruel. I said mean things to her about who she was and how she lived. I still helped. You have to help people. But I wish I hadn't said those things.
As time went on, I ran into Amelia less and less often. I heard from a friend of a friend that she had gotten herself knocked up by and then married to some office worker type. Unexciting, but stable. That sounded like a good thing, and I was happy for her.
Gradually, I began to forget about Amelia Fowler.
...
It was really unusual for the bastards to take us anywhere. They mostly liked to keep us locked up in our shitty little rooms unless it was time for medicine or "food." Today they'd gotten it into their piss-for-brains heads to drag us old geezers out to the park for some "Eeh-an-richmint," as that lousy dick of a head nurse pronounces it.
Some of the geezers who have decent families are going to have a nice afternoon frolicking in the Goddamned daisy or whatever. My wife is dead. Fuck, most of my kids are dead. They don't tell you about that shit when you're growing up! Life kills people! And the ones who are still alive aren't worth two shits.
So I was looking forward to sitting alone on a hot hillside in the middle of June like the subject of some kind of shitty dollar store painting 'cause it'd make dick feel like he was doing his job.
Anyway, we'd been out there for a little over forty-five minutes, and my ass was killing me. That piece-of-crap lawn chair must have been made in Nicaragua. Why can't shit come from China anymore like in the good old days? When all of a sudden this old biddy, who was hobbling along on her walker, keels over right there on my spot of grass; pissed off the pigeons. I was trying to enjoy the view of the lake and here's this bitch, flopping on the ground clutching at her back pissing and moaning.
So I haul my aching, wrinkly old ass out of my piece-of-shit Nicaraguan chair and kneel down in the stifling heat of that mosquito-infested June morning to see what's wrong. I roll her over and damned if it isn't Amelia Fowler.
"My God it's you!" She exhaled. "I'm having a heart attack. It's my fourth one. I know what they feel like, and I know I'm not going to make it."
"Amelia what is this shit? You think I can't tell a fake heart attack? I did fifteen years with-" I started, but she cut me off.
"Shut up, Frank. I don't know where I would have wound up if I'd have never met you, but I can guess. I'm dying an old woman with a full life instead of a young girl with stupid ideas 'cause of you. I needed to tell you that. I promise I won't need you again."
I yelled for dick, and he stumbled over and bumbled though ECPR, but Amelia was right. She was done for. That was the last time I saw Amelia Fowler. | 2017-03-22T15:15:54 | 2017-03-22T13:26:15 | 135 | 21 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | My grandmother still worships the old gods. I dont know how she can keep track of all of them. There seems to be a god for every problem. I probably should have played more attention in history when we went over all this stuff. She always said I was a favorite of Aphrodite. She warned me that living with the favor of a God/Goddess would be difficult. I should have listened.
Meeting girls has always been easy for me. People said I was just charming. I know better now. I met Sita when I was 15. There was something about her that just ignited a fire in me. As always I was able to catch her attention with just a short conversation. It wasn't long before the whole school knew we were dating. She was so beautiful. Long raven hair, bright green eyes that actually sparkled when she was happy. A smile that could brighten a room instantly and she always smelled so good. I knew from the moment we spoke that I was in love. Thinking back on it now, what did I know of love? I was a kid. A dumb idealistic brat in love with the Idea, of being in love.
I remember that day after the homecoming dance. We were walking hand in hand. We stopped under the bleachers by the football field. She kissed me and I told her I loved her. She said she loved me too. I told her, "No matter what, I'll always be there for you. I swear on our love"
She broke up with me 3 weeks later. No explanation, no apology. Just, "this isn't working. Find someone else"
I was as heartbroken as a kid could be. After a while I swore I'd never say those words to a girlfriend again unless I was sure she loved me too. I got rid of all her pictures and little gifts. I never wanted to see her again, but the God's take oaths seriously.
I saw her again, for the first time 2 years later. I was driving home in the muscle car my parents got me for my birthday. It needed a lot of work but I was excited to have wheels. I saw her hunched over in the rain and cold by the bus stop. She had a large bag next to her. Too big to be for school. I pulled over. I got out and sat next to her, she barely looked up at me. "Hey" was all she said.
"Hey" I replied. "Need a ride?" I asked.
"That yours?" She asked. "Yeah, birthday gift" I responded.
She nodded. "You have awesome parents." She whispered. She looked up at me. "Im leaving town. I have an aunt that lives 3 hours away. If your serious about the ride, will you take me?" She asked.
I thought about it for a moment. I'd just gotten the car and had never been out of town on my own before. Still the way she looked at me, her eyes pleading and full of sorrow. I couldn't say no. "Sure, hop in. Ill get your bag."
It didnt occur to me to ask why she was leaving or where her parents were. It just felt right to help. I got home at 4am. I was grounded for 2 months and my car was taken from me. She had smiled that beautiful smile when in had dropped her off. It was worth it.
I met her again when I was a junior in college. I was invited to a frat party for the first time ever and almost didnt go. I felt I would miss out if I didnt though. College is about the experiences, so im told. At first I wasnt sure it was her, it had been so long, but when she smiled I knew. I wanted to talk to her and for a moment our eyes met. She was swooped up by a good looking guy in a football jersey before I could reach her. I spent the rest of the party bored. It was when I went searching for a bathroom that I found her again. I was told the bathroom was down the hall but I kept getting turned around. She came rushing out of a room I had passed twice. Her clothes were a mess and her lip was bleeding. She saw me and grabbed my arm. The guy I had seen her with came out of the room a few moments later. He stopped when he saw me.
"Hey" she said. "I havent seen you in forever, walk me to my car?" She asked.
I stood there glaring at the guy in the jersey. "Sure, no problem" I finally reply. She didnt let go of me until we reached her car. Once again I earned a smile as she drove away. I walked back to my dorm thinking that one day, that smile would be the death of me.
So on it went, I loved and lost and loved again. I would love my life and years would pass before seeing her again. Each moment we met was when she needed me most. Sometimes it was for small things, like a ride, other times it was more serious. I was there for her, just like I swore I would be. I stopped being surprised after a while. I lived my life with the assurance that I would see her again and earn another smile. I became successful in my career, had everything I'd ever wanted and more. Still, I would go out into the world each day, looking for her face amongst the crowd. Waiting for the moment when she would need me again.
Now that final moment has arrived. That moment I knew would come. When that smile would be the death of me.
This story, is for you Sita. So you would understand why I did what I did. You see, I met your husband. He's a good man. I realize now why I hadn't seen you in so long, after meeting him. He showed me pictures of you and your kids. They're as beautiful as their mother. All with that same gorgeous smile. Dont worry, I didn't tell him I knew you. He came to ask me for something. Something apparently only I can give.
My cancer is inoperable. I have been given only weeks to live. Caught it too late they said. The doctor told me because of my condition and my rare blood type, I would be doing the hospital and several people in it, a great service and sacrifice, if I would donate my organs. I hadn't made my decision until today. When your husband showed me your picture, I knew. This is the last time I can be there for you. What I give to you hasn't been mine for a long time. Its been yours ever since I swore that oath, so many years ago. I give you my heart, to care for and keep safe.
My oath is kept, I have no regrets. Who am I to question the Gods? | The tips of my fingers began to tingle.
*For fucks sake.*
I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath then turned to meet my wife’s gaze.
“…which is great but it’s his English results that I’m worried-“
My well-rehearsed apology face had cut her off. She scrunched up her lips and drew in a breath then gave a less than half-hearted attempt at a reassuring smile.
“Got your phone?”
I gave my jeans a pat and recognised the familiar brick in my right front pocket despite the, now significant, tingling in my hands.
“Yeh”
“K. Call me if you need me to finish cooking dinner,” she offered as she turned and headed down the hall.
“God forbid,” I muttered.
“Fuck off.” She lazily threw up a finger as she disappeared into the living room.
I gave my outfit a once over to make sure that I was presentable and then waited for the usual drill to-
“Shit! The drill!”
“Whaaa-?“ She queried from the living room, softened by a mouthful of funions.
“Nothing!”
I cautiously made my way down the hall. The tingling in my feet had become a numbness and they felt heavy and unresponsive. Pushing through the back door, I aided myself down the steps with the handrail. I noticed a whiteness in my knuckles and attempted to loosen my grip but overestimated and stumbled down the last two steps.
*Son of a-*
“You ogay, ‘aby?” Pringles this time.
“Yeah,” I lied, rising to my feet.
As I waddled my way to the shed the hum began, then rapidly escalated to a low rumble. I rounded the door to the shed, quickly scanned the mess before me and found the drill on the bench next to the door. I reached for it too late. The rumble crescendoed in an instant and I screwed my face up in anticipation of the snap. I think my wife may have called out but I’m not sure.
---
As the hissing subsided I began to make out her words. Yelling.
“…EIGHT WEEKS AGO BUT YOU NEVER FUCKING LISTEN TO M- oh come the fuck on.”
Through squinted eyes I saw Liz standing six feet in front of me in her kitchen, her husband, Paul, leaning sheepishly on the bench across the room from her. She had noticed my arrival and now stood with hunched shoulders, one hand on her chest, the other on her forehead. I was used to seeing her frustrated. I could barely remember her as anything else.
“I fucking TRIED, ok?” She turned her head to me but the comment was meant for Paul.
“C’mon hon,” he reassured her, raising his hand to cut her off and walking across the room towards her. “It's not your fau-”
She brushed his hand aside and stormed upstairs. I made an effort to look away as a very defeated Paul watched her stomp out of sight before he turned to me and shrugged. I tried to return the sentiment but felt that I’d mimicked him a little closely and looked away awkwardly.
“Oh! Uh… Dude?” Paul looked at me expectantly. I returned a puzzled expression which prompted him to make a drilling action with his right hand. This was the fourth occasion that I'd seen Paul since he had asked me if he could borrow my hammer drill.
“Oh! Fuck! Yeah I- man, this time I swear it was like…” I motioned the approximately foot-wide span with which I had missed the drill back at my shed.
“Uh-huh. That’s what she said, buddy.” He seemed proud of himself.
“Oh, Liz been talking about me again?”
Circumstance had since lowered any boundaries between our two families when it came to humour.
“Ooooh, ok. Ok, I see. Can I interest you in a whole bag of dicks?” He accentuated the delivery with a handful of his junk.
“A whole- dude… A bag? Like a whole… I mean you know you need to get that looked at, right? I’ve got this great person… plenty of experience checking out mine. Let me see if I can remember the name of- oh yeah! Your wife.”
Paul laughed.
“Just bring the fucking drill next time! I mean I guess at least it wasn’t toilet paper this time, eh?”
Paul would never allow me to forget the occasion that I had fallen asleep on the throne at three in the morning and appeared in his walk-in wardrobe, sitting on the wash basket with a toilet roll in hand when Liz had thought that she had seen a spider.
“Need a lift?” Paul offered.
“Nah, thanks. I’m good,” I lied. My wife had long since given up offering me rides home. She knows that I want to do everything that I can to lessen the burden. “Just tell Liz to keep positive, be confident, in control… you know.”
“Yeah, man.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “She knows.”
---
The street lights came on as I rounded the final corner towards my house. The walk rarely bothered me. There was the occasional early (and I do mean early) morning or times when it was an annoyance to be pulled from my current task but it was only five or so blocks, one of which was through a park. There had been opportunities to move even closer, but nowhere good for the kids. That, and I don’t want to be any closer than I absolutely have to be.
The smell of burning organic matter hit me as soon as I’d opened the front door. I entered the kitchen and managed to stifle a giggle as I discovered my wife leaning over a pot on the stove with a spoon raised to her lips, face pursed in disgust. She noticed me and dropped the spoon into the pot, replacing the lid and brandishing the tea towel, with which she had held the lid, over her shoulder.
“No! Don’t you fucking start!“ A smile betrayed her.
“Uh huh?” My own smile was rewarded with a tea towel to the face.
“If you want me to cook normal people food like a normal peoples then you can go out and work all day, Mister!” Her pout made the delivery childlike and playful. She has a habit of using the voice when she’s feeling bratty and it kills me. Every time.
I tossed the tea towel on the bench and embraced my wife. I placed my hands on her cheeks and squeezed until her lips were smooshed together and lightly shook her head while giving her the crazy eyes.
“I fucking love you so. Damn. Much. You know that?”
“Awiite, awright, jesus big guy… No need to get all silence of the lambs,” she teased as she fought my hands away. I put a hand around her waist to pull her closer but my dubious intentions were put to rest when our son entered the kitchen and, without looking up, headed to the fridge and opened the door, surveying its contents.
“What’s for dinner?”
I lifted the spoon from the pot, tasted the bitter liquid, and made a disgusted face at my wife. She poked out her tongue and I bit the air in front of her. She faked an expression of shock then bit me on the chin.
“Ouch! Shi- uh… Vers. Shivers.” I turned to our son. “I dunno buddy, what do you feel like?”
“Ummmm,” he closed the fridge door. “Pizza? Can we go to Rocco’s?”
I considered the state in which I’d left Liz and gave my wife a discouraging look. She smiled and gave me a nod.
“How about we go pick some up. Dad can stay home so you can ride up front.”
“K.” My son raced off down the hallway.
“Oh did you grab the dish?”
“The what?” I asked.
“I asked you- oh never mind.”
My wife smiled, kissed me, and turned toward the door. I gave her a pat on the bum and watched her leave.
*I fucking adore that woman* | 2017-03-22T19:03:01 | 2017-03-22T19:01:40 | 53 | 11 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right. | Each lifetime seemed to me only a moment. I had always forcefully forged a path, etching my name in the memories of past world's inhabitants to be passed on for eternities to come.
I have been here a thousand times before. That short and sweet gift of existence, the driving hunger and motivation to succeed, to change humanity for the better, always somehow brings me back. Driving the world forward, for better or worse. I have always believed this my burden to bear, my cross to carry.
This is my last chance, and now I must decide.
33 Years Later:
My fingers drift through soft, strawberry curls. The weight of her head rests on my shoulder, her small body nestled in close to me. Here, now. This is where I want to stay forever.
Thirty three years ago, I realized how I had failed every time before. Forcing my presence on the world, exhaustively exerting all energy in the hopes that my actions would provide a direction for the rest of His creation. How selfish I had been. How vain.
This time, I dedicated my life to the life of someone else. In this life, I have not forced my presence on the world. I have not attempted to move mountains. My life has been and will be dedicated to this beautiful being, this innocent child.
I will show her the wonder of the world, convey to her the preciousness of its existence and the preciousness of all life residing here.
This time, I will live history and not become it. This time, my contribution to the world will be her. Her laughter, her love, her curiosity, her joy. Her light.
This time, I became a father. | There she was again, fat face, full of cake, laughing as she told me another anecdote of her worthless kid, spraying food all over my desk. I hate Karen, hated her since I first started working at this paper company. This pathetic job, with is grey walls, stale coffee, worn carpet and depressing looking people. It was all beneath me, I could be great again, reach such great heights again... But patience. Patience was key this time. I was determined to get it right. I had an outlet this time.
As I left work and walked the poorly paved streets to the grocery store, the rain tapping away lightly on my face, past the safe unimaginative buildings that littered this city, I thought of all the grandure I could bring to it if I were in charge again. How I can elevate this city, this country, to new levels of greatness, create a standard of living for the select chosen few... But patience, there was still time. I had an outlet now.
Standing in line, waiting to pay for my food, I saw a man cut in line with the pretence of talking to a friend he just happened to see. People looked angrily at him, but said nothing. City of wimps. My blood was boiling, that vein on my head was throbbing, so I gazed at the woman standing near me, her baby strapped to her. She was attractive, her black hair falling effortlessly on her shoulders. The child looking around in wonderment. And suddenly a hunger filled me. I wanted her, right here, on the store floor. I would raid her house, kill her husband, smash her baby... no, must be patient, it was almost time for my outlet.
I sat on the couch, belly full, watching the blond haired chubby monkey they called leader of the free world talking his nonsense. They dared to compare him to what I had accomplished. It was insulting. He was nothing. I looked over to my bookshelf, lined with The Prince, Mein Kumft, books on the Great Khan and Napoleon. I had a library dedicated to my greatness, a monument to past achievements. I looked back at the TV, his stupid fat face vomiting hateful diarrhea at an amaturistic level. It was an affront to everything I ever stood for. AND THEY COMPARED HIM TO ME!!!!! Now was time. No more need for patience.
I sat in front of my computer. I looked at the tabs to youtube, reddit, breitbart where I could incite hate, start a war of words. But they were nothing compared to this. My cursor hovered over the program, my hand slightly shaking, waiting for the sweet release. I double clicked, and watched the opening video of civilization 5. It was worth it, my mediocre life, for this. I looked at my kingdom. Nothing stood in my way... except for that damned Gandhi. I'll crush him today. Then the computer made a last gasp sound and died. I stared at it. No life. My whole body was shaking, but my mind was clear. I knew what i wound do. This world was in trouble. | 2017-03-31T12:19:09 | 2017-03-31T11:38:45 | 92 | 21 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right. | "Really, again?"
"I mean, it could have been worse, right?" I sigh and scratch the back of my head.
"Six million jews," god's brow furrows and his glare pierces my soul, "six million of them."
I cross my arms and scowl right back at him. "They were causing an economic decline in Germany."
"They were my children."
I roll my eyes. "Yeah so were the dinosaurs until you dropped a special little birthday present on the-"
"SHUT UP!" Gods thunderous voice booms throughout the heavens, knocking me on to my ass. "Listen to me, and listen well. I am a merciful and all loving god, and thus I have decided to give you one last chance." He leans in closer, his giant all seeing eye intently focused on my mortal body. "If you mess this one up, it's all over. I can no longer keep you from the grasps of Satan, you understand me?"
I get to my feet and brush the dirt off myself, fixing my shirt. "I will do my best on this one, you have my word."
Gods face contorts, clearly not believing me. "I'm doing this because I love you, you understand that, right?"
"Oh jesus, don't get all mushy on me."
"You leave Jesus out of this."
"Fuck, just send me back already won't you?"
With a sigh god nods, raising his mighty fist above me. With a roar it hurtles down at me, my world fading to black just before it smashes into me.
My eyes blink open to a blinding light. Struggling to see I blink again, a giant masked face appearing before me. " A beautiful little boy," a gloved hand runs over my baby smooth head, "what will you name him?"
"Donald J. Trump." | The white lights flashed again. It was coming back to me, everything; the cries for help, the scent of clotted blood on the dead, the eyes that begged for mothers as they saw death flashing in front of their faces. Ironic I guess, considering that I think that I'm dead. Or at least I figure I must be dead considering all I see is a man who I can only say radiates power.
"So I see you've failed again?" he smirked, "54 tries and still nothing".
"What? I don't get it? Am I dead?"
"Obviously. That's a pretty dumb questions even for your standards and ruthlessness. If you were only that dumb when you Nero."
"Me? Nero? When" I was aghast. "I am not a horrible person am I?"
"Great! This part again. 54 times and I always have to explain this part to you. You die. You either reach Nirvana or you go back to earth and I have NEVER seen someone beat your, well, highscore." the entity exasperatedly said.
"But I pay taxes!" Yet as the words left my mouth, all my memories came back.
"Maybe you do, but I think you should be remembering now."
And I was. I remembered my individual lives, when I sacked Persopolis, Baghdad, Tenochtitlan, Jerusalem. Each time, some called me a hero, but yet, many called me one thing. A murderer. Each time, I thought unifying the world or at least ruling with an iron fist would bring peace, yet all it did was bring my demise.
"How? Why? I did all of that? How can I?"
My knees felt weak and I started sobbing and curling on the floor. But the entity seemed unfazed, even looking in contempt. How could it be so cruel?
"Save it, this time your actions were so wanton and cruel you must face trial at the Eternal Court and in front of the Supreme One."
"I didn't mean to kill 80 million people, I swear"
"Yet you did."
"World War Two wasn't my fault! It was Hitler! I wasn't even responsible for Nanjing! I didn't even order half of the atrocities committed. How could I? I was only a prince!"
"Actions have consequences. Consequences lead to other actions and they stain history with blood"
"I... I..." I couldn't carry on. I was guilty. Maybe it was time to stop trying.
Suddenly, the entity changed his expression. "Guilt, I have never seen that before. Maybe..."
In an instant, he disappeared and I heard a ringing in my ear, as if the world was being born anew. Then I heard his voice again, faintly in the distance "The Supreme One has seen your guilt, you have one last chance to reach Nirvana. Maybe it'll be different this time, maybe it will not. All I can say is, at the minimum, at least leave earth the same as it was, maybe you will even be granted a seat just for that. After all, you will be the first one to fail..." The voice started to get more distant and faint, the world started spinning again. Then it became black. All I felt was warmth. All I heard now was "I think we will name him Martin" and I went back to sleep.
| 2017-03-31T16:05:42 | 2017-03-31T08:26:10 | 30 | 22 |
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