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] When humanity went extinct another life-form rose to dominance on Earth. But it was not one anyone would have expected. Instead of chimpanzees, dolphins, dogs or even birds Earth is now dominated by sentient trees. | The Oaks would burn.
It was a collective decision and the decisions was final. They were growing too fast and too strong. If something wasn't; done, they would overrun the forest. And what then? It would be an Oak forest, not a Birch forest, and that was unacceptable.
"Must we?" asked a Birch, its chemical voice one of pleading.
"We must and we will," decreed the others. "When the next fire comes, we will give them no sap. Keep it for ourselves. Our seeds will sprout in their ashes."
The Birch was troubled. This was wrong. It was not how trees should be.
"But we must save them! We are all of the same stuff. Is this not like the Soft Ones--"
"Speak not their name!" hissed the Birches. "We are not like them. There will be no axes or terrible grinders. Those beasts are dead, they have fed our soils as they should. We are not like them, and we shall not be like them. We do not kill. We simply allow them to die."
The answer was chemical finality. No more discussion, no more debate. The Birch collective would not answer.
Days passed. The days grew long and dry. Wisps of tinderous embers crackled in air, nearly smoldering, waiting for the day they would rise. The fires would come--it would no be long.
All it took was a single strike of lightning on a dry patch. In minutes, flames roared with vicious delight, speeding towards the parched Oaks, who had all summer long been starved of sap.
"Help us," cried the Oaks. "Please. We are so dry. Please lend us some sap, brothers."
The Birches were silent. Flame poured upon flame until the forests became a wall of flame, dancing in violent ecstasy.
But as the flames seared trunk and branch, one Birch tree opened up its heart and let its sap pour out to its Oaken neighbors.
"What are you doing?!" roared the Birches. "Stop this! You are running it!"
"Yes," said the Birch. "And I am glad."
Sap poured from that single Birch until it was as dry as a matchstick. It gave everything it had that some of its neighbors might live--not all, but maybe some. And as the flames reached that single Birch tree, who stood alone from its clan, in its roots and stems a clever eye could almost see it smile.
" | They said that the future was suppose to be bright and silver, a world where people would know peace. Flying cars, no wars, people living deep into their 100's. A world without borders, a time of space exploration, a time where humanity will reach its potential and then surpass it in spades.
Thats what the elders said, before the Green.
I slowly look outside, the sea of endless green under a early morning's dawn. The ruins of the tower I live in was once one of many that showed the power and greed of humanity. I have seen pictures of these towers being taller, larger then the one I am in now. But they are all gone now, only those with trees supporting its old stone walls remain.
The elders tell us that the world changed after the Third World War. Where humans fought with dark practices, trying to gain an advantage over one another. Some nations turned to bigger guns when their bullets needed a bigger kick. Others turned for armor, to protect from the endless steel rain. But one country turned to fantasy and religion, seeking out a call for a hero to create; their own personal gods.
Elder K, as she refers to herself, was one such seeker. She was given to us by the Green, after she sought mercy for her sins. She will not tell us what she did, but honestly, I am afraid to ask. For her sins, her arms and legs were taken, so that she could not flee. Her eyes were taken, so that she would be denied the beauty of the world she destroyed. But she was given a seed, implanted in her heart, to ensure she will live forever, to tell us young ones the lessons that we must know. Our history we must repent.
For from the small forgotten country arose three Heroes; The first was Torg, the Terror. From his hands came flames, from his breath a frosted death. Everything he touched, died. He was in constant pain, a side effect of his own power. Relief was only given in his quest of destruction, toppling great armies, drowning cities in flames, and laughing over the cries of the dead and dying. When the Green arosed, he fought for 30 days and 30 nights, until his was silenced. The Green keeps him alive, but in a deep slumber.
The second was Apex, the Animal. They were given the blood of every animal, of every species and family, and from their blood they could alter themselves, and any that they touched were changed as well. Apex tried to convert humanity, trying to save it from its self by changing it into a peaceful mixed species. But the world did not see a change of peace; they saw monsters, and struck back. By the time the Green arrived, Apex had taken their followers to a new world, one where the Green leaves them be.
Finally, the third, the one we now obey; The Green. She gave up Her name, for She no longer needs it. She never speaks, for She finds it meaningless to talk. From Her feet sprouts endless roots and vines, securing Her at the Heart of the Endless Forest. Every plant is connected to Her, they are Her eyes, Her ears, Her flesh and Her mind. For every broken twig, She feels as real as a broken finger. For every ember that burns, She too burns. But despite the pain, She broke free of the little garden She was born in, and found a world begging for help, begging to be saved from its dreaded infection.
And thus the Green saved the world from humanity.
My tribe is one of the last few human remnants, the ones who made a quiet peace with the Green. We are only permitted to live by the fruits and harvest that the Green trees provides. And for Her mercy, we protect Her and Her trees from those who seek vengeance, from those that believe in the old future. I pity them, for they seek a future of blood red and dull silver.
I smile. Such a wasted dream of boring colors. I think I prefer the future of Green. | 2022-08-27T08:33:49 | 2022-08-27T06:16:04 | 95 | 60 |
[WP] You check yourself out in the full length mirror before going to bed. You bend down to untie your shoes. As you are nearly finished, you see with your peripheral vision your reflection stand up seconds before you do. | It wasn't like it wasn't noticeable.
Seconds is a long time. By the time the first lace came through the knot, my reflection was standing there, waiting for me. I saw him- wait, I saw *me* stand up, look at me disapprovingly, and wait.
Why was I - he - disapproving of me? Who the fuck made him the high authority on shoelace tying? So what if I have to double knot my shoes, at least I'm not wearing velcro.
That smug sonuvabitch.
| I had a strange urge to check myself out in the mirror as I was preparing for bed. Did my hair look okay? Anything ugly about my clothes? I suddenly wanted to find out. I looked into the mirror. I looked fine, same as I always did. Same brown hair, same green eyes, everything was okay. I breathed a sigh of relief. I then bent down to untie my shoes.
Suddenly, I saw something move in the mirror. What the- I saw, or at least I thought I saw, my reflection stand up, even though I was still bent down. I stood up straight and rubbed my eyes. Maybe it was just me. Maybe I was just tired. But it seemed so real. I waved my arm to check. My reflection also waved its arm. Everything was normal. I thought, Huh. Weird. Then I decided to get some sleep.
The next morning, I woke up, refreshed. Then I remembered my reflection. I got up and decided to check if everything was still normal. I walked up to the mirror, and saw.....nothing. I panicked for a second and wondered if I was a vampire or something, but then I saw my reflection walk up to the mirror. My reflection was lagging again. I definitely was *not* seeing things. This actually happened. I waved my arm. My reflection waved its arm also. I stared at the mirror for a little bit, wondering why in the world my reflection lagged, and why it went back to normal a few seconds later. I wiggled my body, made random movements, and my reflection did the same. I was baffled.
After work, I decided to check again. I walked up to the mirror, and.....my reflection did the same. Everything was normal. I made random movements, jumped up and down, flailed my arms around, and my reflection followed my every movement, just like it normally did. I was relieved, and also confused. Just- why?
To this day I still have no idea what happened. | 2014-03-22T09:25:13 | 2014-03-22T09:18:18 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] Someone finally, accidentally discovers the true function of the male nipple. | Jim screamed and pulled against the restraints that held him to the table. Overhead, three bulbous, grey alien heads loomed over him. They spoke to each other anxiously in a series of foreign words that he didn't understand.
"-you're terrifying him! Okay, it's on?" One of the aliens turned to him. "Human, is the translator working?"
Jim stopped struggling for a moment. "Y-yes. What do you want?"
"This will be quick. Can you lift up your shirt please?" The shackles on his wrists unbuckled automatically and Jim sat up, confused.
"What? Why?"
"Humanity is part of a catch-and-release program that we've been conducting for thousands of years to make sure the galaxy's species are healthy. We need to see your tags and check our records."
"Uh... okay." Jim lifted up his shirt. The aliens peered at his right nipple, then his left, then scribbled some notes.
"Wait, are the tags my nipples?"
"Yes, it's an outdated form of tagging, but it's the one we had when humanity entered the program."
Jim had an idea. "And... what about women?"
"Oh, by the time women were introduced we'd upgraded to iris tagging instead. Men were first, you know. Even your own records say that."
"Oh." Jim seemed disappointed.
"Well, that's all we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. If you follow us this way, we can send you back to your home now."
Jim got up from the table and followed the aliens down the hallway. Rooms on either side of the hall were also filled with various people, some still screaming and strapped down, others simply looking extremely confused as the aliens studied their nipples. At the end of the hall was a door that was labeled the alien equivalent of, "Beam me down, Scotty."
"Just step in here, and you'll be back where you belong."
Jim opened the door and stepped inside. The door closed, and nothing happened for a few seconds, but then the room filled with light and he shut his eyes tightly.
Jim woke up in his bed with no memory of the day before. He struggled to remember. It had something to do with nipples. "Man, that must have been a wild party." | It was the thirtieth year of our war against the Zords from planet Zordon. And as many people agreed, it would probably be the last. All we had left was Madagascar, the which would, without some miracle, become the deathbed of human civilization.
In 2446, the Zords began their offensive with the tiniest soldiers they had. Not explosive rats, not poison injecting mosquitos, but a microscopic virus. We though we were done for, but by some ancient knowledge, the Earth governments decided to put all of their greatest citizens on the island of Madagascar, knowing that it would be safe from the disease.
25 years later, 99.99% of the 10 billion people who had been living on Earth were dead. The Zords landed on Earth, and swept through the terrain, killing anyone who had managed to survive. They avoided us on Madagascar for the time being, because we were armed to the teeth with deadly laser guns and surrounded by the finest military ships. But now, they have discovered the key to shutting off all laser weapons. All of our guns are now just hunks of metal, our ships sitting ducks, and our planes have no use at all. We are finished now. The Zords had won.
Everyone was devastated by the news that we were done for. Everyone except Gordy. Gordy was an interesting fellow, if, of course, you found raging psychopaths interesting. He had originally been a great general, but had gone crazy from the isolation of the island. Many people's hobbies were painting or singing, but Gordy's was hurting himself. He would jump from high places, sit in the sun until he was bright red and then slap himself, and even cut his face with sharp sticks. Then one day, Gordy found a car battery.
Being a psychopath, Gordy stuck the clips onto either one of his butt cheeks. He turned the battery on, anticipating great pain, and... nothing. No pain, Gordy only felt warmth moving up his body, slowly...
Suddenly, two great lasers burst out of his nipples, burning holes in the trees in front of him. His wits returned to him, and he told me, the chief, about his shocking revelation. After some more testing, the villagers deduced that it worked on every post-pubescent man, but not any women. I took my advisors into the war hut, and we planned out a battle strategy.
Two days later, the villagers stood on a boat, facing the Zords' ships with their hands in the air and a white flag flying. Unbeknownst to the Zords, each man had clips hooked to their butts attached to the main generator of the island.
I was in the middle of the group, waiting for the ships to get in range. I just hoped they didn't fire before we did. They were close now, close enough. As loud as I can, I screamed "FIRE" with all my might, and two seconds later, hundreds of red lasers erupted from their human nipples.
The Zords' fleet soon resembled swiss cheese, and then looked more like the Titanic at the bottom of the ocean. The nipple attack had worked!
But this was only the beginning. Years of war laid ahead of us. It was going to require a lot of men. A lot of grit. A lot of time.
And a lot of nipple lasers.
EDIT: I apologize if my premise is similar to /u/respondstoWprompts , I started writing before they posted their story
| 2014-08-10T11:54:37 | 2014-08-10T11:14:49 | 105 | 17 |
[WP] A man has the ability to freeze time, and uses this to do whatever he wants. One day while "borrowing" his neighbors corvette he gets in an accident and dies, therefore leaving time frozen. | I remember the day so clearly, the day everything changed.
I was out walking my dog, when suddenly the world just... *switched*.
One moment everything was normal, the day was overcast, but still clinging to the warmth of summer, and all of a sudden, and with no warning, they started to speed by at a fantastic rate. I remember thinking I was dreaming, and longing to wake. The sun moved fast across the sky, and by the time I got Max back on his lead it was already rising for morning. I checked my watch, and decided to ignore it.
I walked briskly home as the streetlights pulsed in time to the blinking daylight; a flashing reminder to the turning of the world. I got home in time to see my breath turn to mist in front of me.
And that's just the way it is now. Time, the previously thought bedrock of our multi-spatial dimension is warped, and broken; and nobody seems to know how to turn it right again.
Humanity has, by and large, been shattered. Seasons pass in hours, and we wake in different centuries from when we go to sleep. Most clocks stopped working in those first few days, and the panicked cries of people filled the streets. I was in a city once, but now there is only dust. Materials weaken in hours, houses have crumbled and fallen now, I do not know how many perished, but it was a lot. The rain is constant, and pressing, though thirst is never hard to please. You have to be quick as it evaporates fast, but a human hand can hold as much as it needs, and it is never long until another shower starts.
All living life seems to be affected, from the smallest plant to the greatest mammal, but as soon as it killed, from fallen tree to cut nail, it simply speeds off into dust. The apex predator of the planet has been crippled. Packs of wild dogs have taken to the streets, though they aren't the greatest threat we face. The food chain is readjusting, and there was a zoo not far from here; It wont have taken long for the bars to fall apart. We don't have our technology anymore, we don't have our fire. In a single second one of our greatest tools became extinct; to light a fire, if you can find a material to burn, is to shine the briefest of lights, or to be dead before you realise it's out of control. Tales and songs tell of whole cities burned in those early days, in little more than minutes. We don't have our fires, or our tools. But we do have our brain, and for now it is just about keeping us alive.
I often dream about what life was like before, as I watch the changing seasons from the tops of these trees. I am an old man now, one who dreams of seeing a rainbow one more time, or watching a fire slowly crackle and burn. The new generation are different to us. Those that have grown up in this world don't see what humanity is capable of, they only see weak limbs and clawless hands. They see disease, misery and death. They see fear where once there was opportunity. We are a product of a different world.
I cannot help but wonder what may have caused the change. There is a song that claims the world is not fast, but rather it is life that has slowed down. It tells of a man with the power to stop time. I wonder if perhaps he didn't so much as stop time, but simply slow it down for everyone else. I do not know the origin, though clearly someone thought it worth remembering, and in this world the fantastical is turned mundane. Maybe the world *is* the same, and it is we who are out of focus.
I am an old man now, a man of memory, and song. Up here in the trees, we are safe from the worst of it, and as time moves as it must I see the trees spread out across the dusty ashes of civilisation, though they do so slowly, to the eyes of the universe.
There is still beauty here, but I cannot help but hope to trust that song; that humanity was the cause of all this.
Because if that is true then I can dream, that one day there may be someone born with the power, to make it right. | For three-and-a-half years, I was the world's worst superhero.
It started when I was ten years old. We were at the park. My sister was dancing in the splash pad, I was climbing a tree, drawing a complicated doodle on the smooth bark with a sharpie. Mama lay on a picnic blanket, holding her book up like an offering to the sun, face occluded in shadow. Dad was at work.
Between one moment and the next, there was a calm. A sudden, perfect silence. If you've ever found yourself in a small room deep underground, somewhere that doesn't even have a background of wind or distant cars, it wasn't like that in anything but direction. It was like a thousand rooms like that, each layered on top of one another, and it was worse.
I looked around, frightened.
Mama lay back, the same as always. Her arms didn't even tremble, holding up her book against the sun. Julie - my sister, my little sister - she was bent halfway through a perfect dip, hair frozen in a curving arc about her head.
The water was made of crystal, around her. Motionless, it looked hard and unyielding. Rainbows that had been caught halfway through their creation hung in the air, dappling everything.
Very carefully, I climbed down the tree. The ground felt hard as I stepped onto it, like astroturf laid over cement.
I walked up behind Mama. "Mama?" I asked. "Mama, is this a trick?"
No answer. I felt myself begin to shake, and salt beaded in my eyes. "Mama?"
I reached out and pressed a finger to her upraised arm. Her skin was soft to the touch, but it was as if there was a core of steel beneath.
I screamed. It was the only sound. *Start again start again start again*, I begged the world. When thinking it didn't help, I screamed it. Over and over.
That time lasted half an hour. By the end of it, I had cleaned myself up. I went back to my tree and climbed all over it - perhaps there was something there that would let me restart the world? I tried scribbling out my doodle, making a new one. I tried drawing a clock.
I was an imaginative ten-year-old, if not particularly practical.
When everything started again, I was sifting through the grass beneath the tree with my fingers, looking for I-don't-know-what. All at once, the sound of the world slammed into me, and I fell to my face, sobbing in relief.
Mama shrieked, dropping her book. She thought a spider had bit her arm. I knew I was guilty, but when I tried to take responsibility, she just smiled at me. "Don't be silly," she said.
The times the world froze, after that, became a little bit predictable. I found that it happened in one of three ways: a short duration, between ten seconds and a minute; a medium duration, between half an hour and four hours, and the really long ones; sometimes eight hours or more. I learned to wear a watch and carry a little notebook so I could record them. After the first month, the eight-hour ones became regular - enough to sleep through, even. I tried staying awake for the first few, but I eventually learned to stretch a rubber band and hang it in the air so that when the world started again, it would snap against my arm and wake me.
Living half my life in stopped time, I had to eat twice as often. At first I just ate great big meals at home, but Mama started to notice, and I was hungry anyways, so I started stealing money at "night" before going to sleep.
And, of course, there was the problem of age.
I grew up fast, living partway in a timestop. Really fast. I was halfway through high-school age by the end of grade 6, and three and a half years after the First Incident, I felt and looked almost grown-up. I grew a dirty moustache, until Dad helped me to shave it.
I could have done so much to exploit my strange power. I could have stolen things, or killed people, or fixed hundreds of problems, if not for one little problem:
It was *hard*. Sure, I tried my hand at various things - even stopped a few crimes with my ability to inflict pain with a time-stopped touch and knock bullets off-course, though that only happened once - but in the end, I found something much more fun.
Grafitti was *easy*, when I had eight-to-ten hour stretches of frozen time every day. I decorated my hometown in a hundred murals, and I got better every time. No one ever caught me, and in the way of hometowns, that made me as good as a hero.
I never cashed in on it. Maybe I should have.
As far as I can tell, I am seventeen years old. This is the ninety-seventh hour of the timestop. I have never found out how to restart time, but I suspect that someone, somewhere, was controlling it, based on the sporadic but eventually predictable patterns they stopped time in.
Are they doing something that needs four days of timestop, or more? Are they in a coma? Dead? Have I developed my own ability to control time, but without the off-switch they seem to have?
Will I live and die in frozen time?
I want to answer all these questions, eventually.
Right now, though...
Right now, it looks like the next seven decades or so are freed up. Every wall in the world is unguarded.
I think I'm going to need a lot of paint. | 2015-08-21T15:15:08 | 2015-08-21T14:31:52 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you | Things were going pretty well for Dave. He’d only had the magic for a week, but already he’d gained several million dollars, a mansion, two sports-cars, and a supermodel girlfriend. A few stranger wishes had popped up, too: the skills of a master ballerina, the qualifications of an astronaut, the ability of a racecar driver… Nothing bad yet, though.
He had a plan he thought was relatively fair, too. Once he was set for life, he’d start hitting the hospital downtown and the fountain at the university. It’d be nice, doing good. But for the moment, he was more concerned with doing good for himself. His third date with Helga was tonight, and he wanted to pick up something to impress her.
A little ways down the poolside, a curly-haired little girl whispered her wish into her hands and tossed a penny into the fountain. She looked like the type to wish for a pony, and Helga used to be an equestrian. That’d work, Dave decided, sidling over to pick up the coin.
A roar turned the chatter of the mall to screams, and Dave almost dropped the penny. He whirled around and found himself staring into a set of slavering jaws.
A bear. She wished for a *bear.*
(Inspired by a wish I made when I was four. Sorry, Dave.) | My wife says the vacation has been horrible. She was sun burnt, the kids had been hanging off of her cherry red skin for two days now, they hated the sand, they wanted mom to hold them. Fine.
Back to the hotel they went, on the beach I stayed. Which was more than okay. I needed some time. Dad needed some time alone to sift through his pockets and figure out what the hell was going on. I sat down on our sandy beach towel and sank my hand into my trunks. I could hear the change jingling.
The last thing I remember, before ending up smack dab in the middle of a family vacation with people I've never met, was sitting at the wishing well outside Fiesta Mall, eating Panda Express. Why people still threw change in the thing was beyond me, since there hadn't been water in it for years. The plaster was cracking, fiercely fading through summers of the Arizona sun, from Terracotta to cracked concrete.
I picked a quarter up from the empty well, and gave it a quick flip. It came down heads first into my palm, and before I could close my Panda box, a thick sheet of white grain began to pour from the sky. It was falling everywhere, covering my clothes, falling into my bun, filling the empty well, laying as a blanket on the asphalt of the parking lot. Some people ran to their cars, some ran from them and into the mall. I stayed sitting at the well, staring in disbelief.
Slowly, through the quiet chaos of those around realizing whatever was raining down on us was not dangerous, I sloshed my finger into the now syrupy lo mien I had been eating. I put my finger to my mouth.
Sugar. It was sugar.
In my astonishment, I put the coin I had flipped in my pocket, and began sifting through the well full of sugar. I picked up pennies, dimes, quarters. Hell, I'm pretty sure I even picked up a few pieces of promising gravel. This was unbelievable. With a pocket full of change, I abandoned my sugary lunch and started for my car. Once comfortably seated, I began flipping the coins, one by one. My hair grew six inches, immediately. My eyelashes got thicker, my feet shrank. Outside my car, the weather went from an oven on broil to Washington in the spring. The sun got brighter, there were stars in the sky, in the middle of the day. And they were beautiful.
I kept flipping coins.
And now I am here, somehow a chiseled, devoted husband, and loving father to a small army of children, vacationing somewhere very far from Fiesta Mall.
I am living someone's wish. I am handsome, affluent and I am successful in both marriage and family.
But I did not wish for this. | 2016-08-02T15:22:40 | 2016-08-02T12:08:33 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you | Had I known then what it would mean, and maybe I would have left that coin where I saw it.
But it had it's own sparkle, it's own calling, like no other I had ever seen before, and soon enough I held it in my hand, weighing it, testing it...
I could see my eyes reflected on it's surface, and as I looked away, as I dared to walk away from that well with that little coin tucked inside my pocket, I could tell it would only bring me good luck.
Of course, I had no ideia what wish had been laid to rest in that coin at the bottom of that well.
Sometimes it crosses my mind that maybe, just maybe, if I'd taken another coin, I could have won the lottery, or found true love.
But the one I picked up, shiny and bright as the sun, brought me another fate. Had it not reflected my eyes, and maybe... No. It wouldn't change a thing, I know that now.
As I stare at the lifeless body at my feet, the words of that innocent girl, about my age, make perfect sense. I tracked her down, I had to know.
I needed to know why I was acting so differently since I'd cought that coin. Why all I could think of was the scent of blood, the dark red liquid flowing, the life leaving their eyes.
It was her wish, her fault. She made me this way. She wished to be a murderer. A soulless monster. And I'd become one.
But as her final words sank in, I couldn't help but smile, as brightly as ever, as I wiped blood from my face. A simple wish, as it was.
"I wish I can guiltlessly do what my heart most desires." | Angela hoisted her heaping bag of new clothes over her petite shoulder. As she struggled to catch up with her friends, who had walked ahead of her to the next store, she cursed herself for deciding to wear heels that day.
It was then that she heard the fountain call to her. The call was not a sound, but instead a vibration, an echo of something deep within her chest.
The sixteen year old girl stopped in her tracks and turned to face the fountain, a small, unassuming trickle of water dribbling into a pond tucked into the corner between two buildings.
"Hey, Angie!" she heard her friend Lana call to her. "Hey, where are you going?"
The voice seemed far away to Angela. Leaving her bag of spoils behind, she trotted toward the fountain and soon found herself at the edge.
"What the hell is she doing?" said another voice. Her mind registered it as Jasmine, another of her friends.
"I dunno," Lana replied. "She's acting really weird."
Angela, her mind on autopilot, bent down and plunged her hand deep into the fountain's basin. A moment later, she stood back up, holding a rusted penny between two baby pink nails.
She heard her friends somewhere in the distance, but over top of their chattering, a nasal, distinctly male voice resounded from within her head: "I wish I had a photographic memory."
The next moment was like waking up from a dream. She was not Angela. She was not even a 'she.' He was Martin Samuelsson, forty-five-year-old billionaire. He had first heard the fountain's call four years ago, when he was a mere clerk at a nearby outlet store. He remembered how it had implored him to pick a coin from its depths, and how he heard his first wish: "I wish to be the richest man in the world."
He thought that would be enough, but it wasn't. Even with enough money to buy anything he desired, he still wanted more. He went back to the fountain again and again, drew coin after coin, and was granted wish after wish. But none brought him complete satisfaction.
Finally, he had an idea. The last time he drew a coin from the fountain, he had paid a girl ten thousand dollars to make a wish for him. He marked the penny black with magic marker so that he could pick it out, and then had her toss it into the basin.
That was the last thing that Martin remembered before he became Angela. But he knew why his plan had not worked. It was something that he forgot. Not words, necessarily, but a feeling, from when the fountain first called to him.
*The wish has to be from the coin owner's heart.*
Martin/Angela felt a hand on his shoulder. The feeling of being touched in a girl's body now seemed entirely alien to him.
"Angie?"S/he heard Lana say, "You okay, girl? Everyone's waiting for you!"
At that, the timbre of Lana's voice caused a new memory to surface. It was the voice of the girl that he had hired to make the wish. He had heard it in his head the moment before he became Angela.
"I wish to be the most popular girl in school." | 2016-08-02T14:08:05 | 2016-08-02T12:22:05 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You are cursed to see people how they view themselves. You walk alongside monsters and Gods.
Can be third person instead of first.
Edit: I just thought of how EDs and other disorders like multiple personality would fit in with this, and now I'm kinda blown away. | "How do I look?"
I didn't know how to answer that question anymore. Going to the club with my best friend was an ordeal. She had always been insecure, terrified that an ounce of pudge would adhere itself to her midsection, balloon her into a gelatinous horror. And now, to me, that's what she was. A dripping, bulbous mass with a waistline that expanded exponentially when she accidentally saw her reflection, draped in a revealing top and short shorts.
I'd watched her recently, staring at herself in the mirror, until a flicker of her real self shown through: jagged hipbones, thighs thinner than knees, blue fingernails. There, and gone again, as she convinced herself that she was wrong, she was fat, she could never be thin.
-------------
"How do I look?"
My roommate, picking at a gaping hole in her cheek, sores that spread until they consumed her left eye, leaving her teeth exposed and glistening a dull yellow. I remembered that she had faint acne scars, easily concealed with minimal makeup. Maybe they had gotten worse. I could see the cartilage and bone peeking through where her nose used to be.
----------
"How do I look?"
My ex, before he was my ex. Brushing our teeth together, as a spider hung from his eyelashes, worms boring into his cheek. His arms riddled with holes, little black buds peeking through them. If I stared hard enough, I'd see them move, tiny maggot heads breathing and blinking. I couldn't look at him without gagging, and I couldn't think about him without weeping. I don't know why he saw himself like this, whether it was drugs, mental disease, something rotting his optic nerve. I told him he needed a therapist and walked away.
--------
I know why this is happening to me. I know that I was vain and snobbish, that I judged others as harshly as I judged myself. I dated for looks, I made friends based on how they'd affect my social status. And I watched as my friends and acquaintances morphed into Lovecraftian monsters, because I knew no-one with a healthy view of themselves.
I looked for a happy person. There is no one. Everyone hates something about themselves, and all they show me is that hate, that disgust, magnified and visible on their faces, their bodies.
I've gone to hedge wizards, gypsies draped in silk and cobwebs, ancient witch doctors who promised cures for anything that ailed an individual. I've walked into their offices, and seen the golden strings wrapped around their fingers, the snakes slithering in and out of their oil-slicked lips, and I knew they couldn't help me.
I will give myself one more month, and if I haven't found a solution, I'll blind myself. I just want to kiss my lovers and not see the writhing, maggoty mess behind their eyes. | The most interesting thing about seeing people in the way they see themselves is the fact that it's spread to the extremes. About half of see themselves as gods and the other half see themselves as monsters. Every now and then you will see a unicorn or pegasus, but that's normally the people who are broken, or insane. The second most interesting things is that people don't change. Never in my whole time have I met someone as a monster then see them again as a god, not until recently. This man intrigued me. When I first saw him I did not see a monster nor did I see a god. I saw a man. Out of everyone in the world I saw the only person who had a grasp on who they were, or so I thought. Being obsessive in nature I wanted to learn more about this man. I followed him around and learned his name. I knew where he worked and what he did with his free time, but I never watched him while he was working or relaxing. He would go into a bar and I would be too scared to follow him in, less he discover me. No I watched him from afar for about a month. Just seeing him walk to his job, then walk home or to get a drink. I took me a months to build up the courage to get close to him. I need to understand why he sees himself as he is. I applied to his work place and got hired as a secretary. It's a very people intense job but I can cope, and from there I could watch him closer and find out more about him. it was a Tuesday, the office wanted coffee so me and a few other people went out to get some. I made sure I got to deliver his coffee. Walking up to his office door I could feel my heart pounding. I had no connection with him, this would be first contact. When I walked in I nearly dropped the coffee. There, sitting in his chair at his desk was the devil himself. He was facing away from me but I could clearly make out the horns on his head. Shaking I managed to put his coffee down on the desk. I've seen monsters and I've seen gods but I've never seen anything this cruel and hideous. He hear me set down the coffee and turned his chair around. What scared me the most at this point was not his face, which was still his, or the fact that he had eyes that showed hell itself. No it was the fact that he then changed back into himself. The man I had see from far away for a month was now in front of me. That shouldn't happen and that shouldn't be possible. At this point my instincts are telling me to run, but I work here and must be professional. I told him that we got his coffee and was about to leave when he asked me to sit down. He then asked me what was wrong and if anything was troubling me. He must had smelled the fear in my eyes. I told him I had drank too much coffee and just had the jitters. I just wanted to leave. After he told me to lay off the coffee then and get better I left. The thing about the world I live in, my world, was that there are rules. All people obey the rules, you don't see yourself as you truly are, you don't see yourself as one part one thing and one part another, and you don't change. But here was a man defying them. When you live in a world for so long and grow accustom to its rules the things that don't follow them the things that make you question yourself become the most scary things in the world. Anything that demands change in the structure of your universe scares you, and the only comfort you have is in accepting the world view that you have, but it is not the moments in which we can easily accept the world we live in that we find out who we are. No it's in the moments in which everything we know is questioned an all the rules are broken, it's in those moments in which we find out who we are and what we mean, it's in those moments that we will feel the weight of the world on us and those moments that we must carry on. Running isn't the answer nor is hiding. We must face the monsters and gods in our lives. We must abandon the delusions we have of the world and accept who we are. I knew that man. He was the priest of my childhood home, he was the man that killed my mother. | 2016-09-16T19:58:14 | 2016-09-16T19:42:15 | 163 | 11 |
[WP] After years of "my old friend," the Darkness is tired of being friendzoned. | The Darkness is on his laptop, lurking in the wee hours of the night. He is thousands upon thousands of years old - an ancient being with ashes in his veins instead of blood, but he feels an emotion that is almost TOO human for his kind: loneliness.
He opens up internet explorer on his 2009 Dell desktop, the kindest gift Daddy Satan has ever thought to grace him with, and stares blankly at his OkCupid profile.
1 message.
Brittany Lawson: "Hey!! lol, a bit early for Halloween costumes isn't it?"
End of message.
"For fucks sake," he says, darkly.
He goes to edit his dating description box, which simply states "the absence of light," and plays with the idea of putting something more meaningful. Anything to attract a distraction, for the woman he set his sights upon had made it clear that he was nothing but a friend.
DING!
A text appears.
"Hello darkness, my old friend.... "
"I love you," he sobs.
But she will never know.
-
John 1:5
The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.
| The Darkness drifted into the girl's room.
Emily was lying perfectly still on her bed, eyes trained on a crack in the ceiling. A song was playing softly on her computer. The one that irritated him every time he heard it, beautiful melody or not. Referring to him as a 'friend', as if he were a mere companion, to be abandoned or invited at will. As if it worked like that.
He watched Emily fondly.
He had known her since she was a little girl, playing quietly by herself. Keeping her eyes on the ground as she drifted through a haze of school years. He'd even go as far to say that he was the one thing in the world that knew everything about her. Knew every thought and impulse, worry and fear, that she refused to share with anyone else.
He missed her.
A few months ago, he began to be afraid that she would abandon him. She forgot to think of him when her mind turned on itself at night. Had started dropping off to sleep quickly, instead. Why, a few times she'd begun to think of him as a memory from the past. Like that could ever be allowed to happen. Like he would ever let her go.
He could get close now, he sensed. Closer than he had in months. He craved the connection they had some years ago - right after her mother had been tossed through a windshield by that drunk driver. Those had been the best times.
"People talking without speaking," went the song. "People hearing without listening..."
Emily curled into a ball.
The Darkness smiled, creeping closer to embrace her. At last, they could be close once again. They would never be mere friends, he knew - they shared something much more intimate.
He paused before he reached her, as she grabbed something from her bedside table. One of those fucking pills the doctor had given her, that caused him to feel insubstantial. That made her lose sight of him. The ones she'd almost begun to forget about.
"No," he growled. "Stop that!"
But she ignored him as she washed down the pill with water and sat up a little straighter in bed. Ignored *him*. He hissed in frustration and circled her, looking for an opportunity to approach. He could wait, he was patient. She was delusional, if she thought she could sever their relationship, just like that. She couldn't ignore him, he wouldn't allow it.
After all, he'd been her constant companion for many long years. He was owed more than that.
--------
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2016-10-06T06:53:10 | 2016-10-06T06:06:14 | 191 | 91 |
[WP] After a cosmic event washing the Earth with a unidentified type of radiation, ghosts are now completely visible. They're not completely opaque so you can tell they're ghosts. They're everywhere. | It is a common fallacy that the living outnumber the dead. There have been roughly a hundred billion people who have lived and died in the course of Earth's history, in comparison to the eight billion currently living today. The stark contrast hadn't seemed apparent until the spirits showed back up.
At first, the graveyards. Wisps of the nearly forgotten, staring mournfully back at curious passerby. Soon they started popping up from roadside graves, discarded from rivers, appearing out of the locations their bodies had last been.
It became almost a game, to find famous persons, or to go visit Great-Uncle Dave, who had passed from an unfortunate tractor accident, his head still firmly detached from the rest of him. To go and find the oldest ghost, to see where humanity had finally become human enough to have a soul.
Because truly, it was a feat to find anyone recognizable. There were hundreds of millions of simple people, who had been born, lived, and died, only remembered by those around them, but even family forget within generations. Old ladies inhabiting old rocking chairs, clicking ancient needles together for a fabric already disintegrated. Young women holding infants, bellies still showing post-pregnancy inflation. Young men in every uniform imaginable, with an even wider array of injuries.
Humanity had "known" that history was harsh, and brutal, and oftentimes fatal, but never before had they been presented with evidence so clear and uncompromising. Besides the expected soldiers and elderly, the rich and poor, the sick and just plain unfortunate, there was one startling realization made by even the most stoic of us all.
There were so many children. | I could feel my breath getting heavier. My mask started to fog, making it hard to make out everything in the street. I lowered my flashlight onto my wrist equipment now reading critical danger of radiation.
"This is it. Stay close together,” our Captain ordered. This was the first time in sixty years anyone stepped a foot back on Earth.
We continued to walk in the dark ruins of a city. Skyscrapers were in crumbles along the street while the others leaned on those surrounding. I tried keeping up with the rest of the team but the air is so much thicker in my suit.
"Christopher, Hurry up!” The Captain ordered back towards me. I continued to stride my legs out, bouncing the flashlight behind.
Moments later, the Captain raised his right fist into the air for all five of us to halt. Everyone took a knee. Someone was approaching us on the road. I squinted through my foggy mask only to make out it was a humanoid glowing a bright green color.
"Weapons up.” The Captain whispered, everyone took their defensive positions.
I didn’t have a weapon. Myself and one other individual were the scientists brought down here in order to take samples. I didn’t understand what these beings were. Everyone from our station had told us that Earth was completely dead. After the sun torched the Earth, there was no one left alive to salvage it.
"Sir what is that?” The man next to me asked.
Right after he asked his question, something grabbed him so fast that his weapon hit the ground discharging over the Captain himself.
"Hold your fire!” The Captain turned around as something brightly green ran across the ground taking him as well. I fell on all fours hearing nothing but the screeches mixed with our men’s screams piercing through my suit.
I closed my eyes while tightening my grip on the ground. *Please do not let me die here.* I slowly sat up while opening my eyes. Everyone was gone. It was just myself in the middle of the street wrapped by darkness. The team, the other scientist, even the green glowing humanoids were now gone.
I felt something slither over my right shoulder. I slowly turned to make out a brightly green human face. It was the Captain! His helmet from his suit was now off. His entire body was glowing brightly green.
"Captain?” I screamed from inside my suit. I shot back my body on the ground as my flashlight rolled across the rubble.
Others were glowing green around me, I had to run. I sat myself up and darted across to the building closest to an intersection of another street. I ran through the entrance, hearing whispers echoing behind me. As I am about to run back out to the other side of the building, I suddenly stopped myself when I saw my reflection in the broken glass door.
I saw myself within my suit, but the unsettling thing, my entire figure reflected in a glowing green color in front of me.
***
To read more of my stories, visit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/)
| 2017-06-16T20:39:47 | 2017-06-16T19:52:40 | 343 | 30 |
[WP] A knight in shining armour goes to rescue the dragon-in-distress from the great and terrible princess. | She'd done it again.
He walked about his kingdom, searching in vain for the dragon. In his heart he knew the truth, that his dragon had once again been kidnapped by the wicked princess.
Under the bed?
No dragon.
In the toy chest?
No dragon.
Maybe in the pile of dirty clothes he forgot to put in the laundry room?
Still no dragon.
Only one conclusion.
A single course of action for the heroic knight - war. A raid on the Kingdom of the Wicked Princess down the hall.
He steeled himself for the struggle to come.
Weapons and armor, the defining attributes of a knight were required.
Around his room he collected various bits to defend himself and complete his mission.
A plastic helmet from Halloween.
A long plastic sword, fake ruby pommel and golden hilt, similarly from Halloween.
A large yellowed plastic rectangle, originally meant to cover the storage container of his Legos.
It would have to do.
Boldly, he strode to the door, preparing to enter the wild hinterlands of the Carpeted Hall, the access point to the various kingdoms of the second floor.
At the end of the hall was the Kingdom of Mom and Jeff, the new troll overlord that now ruled after the exile of King Father.
Sure, King Father spent too much time with that hated magic elixir that turned him into Monster Father, but he was still rightful King.
King Jeff had no right.
Opposite to this stood the Kingdom of the Wicked Princess, a descendant of King Mother and Father, but now stood in constant conflict with himself. Frequent raids were committed upon one another. Always she would steal the dragon, and he would sometimes take her Barbies and maybe some of her Halloween candy that one time but she couldn't prove it.
Slowly he twisted the knob and peered into the hinterlands, prepared to return to the safety of his Kingdom.
No one.
Bravely he stepped into the hall, the soft carpet beneath his feet allowing him to stealthily move down the hall.
Closer. Closer. Closer to the Wicked Princess.
The ominous door, painted that austere white, stood before him.
Perhaps it would be locked?
No.
Not even the Princess would stoop so low and cheat.
But hark, an enemy approaches!
"Hey buddy, what're you doing?"
It's Jeff, carrying laundry. He watches the boy, amused by his costume.
"Nothing."
"Oh. Well have fun."
Down the hall he moves, and the Knight goes forward with his daring plan.
He opens the door, and that overwhelming disgust nearly topples him.
The stench of perfume, the nauseating pink colors, the posters of boy bands.
Good God, he'll save the dragon or die trying.
For now, the Kingdom was without a princess.
Good.
His gaze searched for his dragon, finding it resting upon the bed of the Princess.
Small and green, two plastic eyes and a goofy smile on its face.
A little dragon, something from when King Father hadn't been Monster Father. When he would read bed time stories and would never smack him, when they would play basketball and he would lift him up to slam dunk.
It's hard to carry with his sword and shield, but the Knight manages to tuck it underneath his arm.
Escape!
He turns to the door but to his horror, the Princess stands there, back early from soccer practice.
They stare each other down, the quiet glare of ancient foes.
Who would make the first move?
Steeling himself, the Knight prepares to rush the doorway. He runs, but the Princess stands fast, blocking his exit.
"Get out of my way or I'll tell Mom!"
She relents.
Triumphantly he runs back to his room, but trips.
Ahead of him, the eyes of the dragon have fallen out. He's ruined.
He stares in horror, but cannot comprehend what has just happened. The Princess slams the door behind her. Their war will continue another day.
Both eyes lay next to the plush dragon, staring upwards at him.
Jeff sees the slack jawed knight, and walks over to the dragon.
"Huh, looks like his eyes have fallen out."
The Knight fights a ferocious battle, but cannot control himself anymore.
He begins to cry.
Jeff picks up the eye balls and inspects the dragon's eye sockets.
Loose threads.
"Listen, buddy, calm down."
He squats down, eye level with the Knight.
"I'll fix him real quick, and he'll be as good as new."
The Knight sniffles. Heroically he wipes his eyes.
Perhaps Jeff was not so bad.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | Ser Darius crouched on the battlements, hiding in the shadow of the topmost tower. He was close, he could tell. There was no mistaking Arcu's cry, a shrill keening that rent his heart.
What was that witch doing to him?
Deftly, he ducked from cover and sprinted to the south tower, the place he had been seeking this past fortnight: Princess Elia's war room. And the place, it was rumoured, she used to break in newly captured dragons.
With trembling fingers, Darius shoved the key into the lock, steeling himself for a fight - it had taken months to get the key, he simply couldn't fail now.
The sight that met his eyes froze him in place.
Elia was straddled on Arcu's back, and he was making no effort to throw her off. This, despite the obvious damage to his body: his once sleek, dark-red hide bore the marks of whips, and his ribs jutted out beneath the half-folded wings.
"Bitch!" he roared, drawing his sword as he sprang forward.
Arcu's head whipped around. With lightning speed, a wing snapped open and caught Darius around the middle, sending him sprawling to the ground. He barely had time to roll out of the way as Arcu aimed a deadly talon at his head.
"What did you do to him?" he whispered, staring up into Elia's laughing blue eyes.
The up and coming ruler looked undeniably lovely, her hair falling into artful curls on her shoulders. Like a maiden on her way to a picnic, instead of the brutal dictator he knew she would grow to be. It was her birthright as the princess of Ashvale. A nation that had left nothing but a trail of blood and death through history.
"Ser Darius, is it?" she said, leaning forward on her perch on Arcu's shoulders. "From Larys?"
She stretched out the name of his kingdom, putting a mocking lilt to the word.
"That's right. You stole of friend of mine," he spat, trying desperately to catch Arcu's eye and speak to him, mind to mind. But his dragon's eyes were blank and unknowing. And most ominously, Darius couldn't reach his mind at all: it was as blank and unreachable as a dumb animal's.
"A *friend*?" she cackled, nudging a sharp boot into Arcus' neck. He gave a soft grunt of annoyance, but didn't bite her leg off as Darius was praying he would.
"You mean the beast? A *friend*? Such pretty fancies your people have. It's the reason your nation trails behind ours in greatness. Befriending dragons, pleading and grovelling for their assistance instead of *taking* their obedience."
"Our dragons are our allies, and more powerful for it. Whatever trickery you use to enslave the dragons in this land, it makes them weak," Darius said. The smirk on Elia's face faded a little.
"Perhaps," she said. "But we have many more servants than you have allies, little knight. And just see what they do for us, instantly, which would take you months of begging to achieve."
His eyes followed her hand as it dipped into a pouch strapped around her waist, and offered it to Arcu. The dragon snuffed and licked her fingers, his body slumping visibly as he ate.
"Kill him," Elia said amiably, and Arcu's head snapped up, his mouth stretching in a roar as he lunged for Darius.
"You see, knight?" Elia laughed as he dove and dodged his friend's fangs. "See how easy your so-called friendship dies?"
The idea came to him in a burst of inspiration - or madness. Elia shrieked as he suddenly stopped trying to dodge the dragon's teeth, and ran straight at her instead. He managed to grab the pouch at her waist, and scoop a handful.
"Why don't you try it?" he screamed, catching her by the wrist and dragging her from Arcu's back. Before she could struggle free of his grip, he had shoved the powder into her mouth.
She went instantly limp. He dropped her hand as Arcu snapped at him again, but his movements were becoming slower, more confused.
*Please let me be right*, Darius begged to the gods as he was backed into a corner.
He tensed, ready to dive again if Arcu snapped at him - or worse, breathed fire.
But he was right. Thanks the gods, he was right - life and recognition was slowly returning to the dragon's swirling yellow eyes.
"Hello, my friend," Darius said shakily. "I've come to rescue you."
*Friend?* the thought reached him slowly, softly. But the mind was there once again.
*Friend*, he affirmed, and stroked Arcu's snout.
Time to test his other theory. Perhaps, the effects of the powder would be stronger and last longer when fed to humans. He hoped.
He approached Elia carefully, but she was still slumped on the floor. He picked up the pouch of powder gingerly. Doubtless, some evil dreamt up by Ashvale's legions of sorcerers. He steeled his heart as he dipped his fingers in it, and steadily started feeding the entire pouch to Elia. She'd need all of it, if his plan were to work.
"You will do everything in your power to end your father's rule," he said, slowly and clearly. "Rally your forces to do whatever is needed. And when you have succeeded, you will end the slavery of dragons. You will tell your people that doing so will bring them power and glory, the alliance of Larys and the friendship of dragons. That it will save you all. Offer them money, estates and power for obeying you. You will tell them whatever they want to hear, to make them enforce your command. Do you understand?"
She met his gaze, her gaze soft and unfocused.
"Of course, sir knight," she whispered. "Thank you for saving us all." | 2017-11-15T08:29:35 | 2017-11-15T08:08:38 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] "Liar." "I'm telling the truth. They put themselves in pressurized metal boxes and launch themselves out of their planet with liquid fuel canisters. Humans are insane." | Germea stared at Immeta, his eyes wide. "That's ... that's..." his voice trailed off. He frowned, then leaned sideways, to call out down one of the quarters corridors leading off the crew's mess.
"JOHNSON! HEY! JOHNSON!"
Johnson, the crew's only human, poked her head into view from her bunk, where she had been ensconced with an electronic reader. "Someone call?"
"Is it true that humans used to put themselves in metal boxes and launch themselves off... "he foundered for a moment, clearly forgetting the name of the planet in question, before rallying. "Off your planet with liquid fuel cannisters?"
Johnson frowned, her small dark human nose wrinkling. "What do you mean, *used* to?"
It took Immeta a moment to process that. "You mean they still do it?" he asked, horror dawning.
"Some people. Most of us use grav engines like the rest, but one of my old neighbours was in the Vintage Rocket Ship Society. And that's not even getting into the weirdos that still fly the old sub atmospheric craft...." she stopped for a moment, snapping her fingers in an odd way that Immeta had learned signalled that she was trying to remember something. " Airplanes. Yeah, some people are crazy enough to still drive those combustible fuel craft through our ATMOSPHERE."
There was a collective gasp. By then, most of the crew in the mess were listening in.
"Have you tried it?" Germea asked curiously.
Johnson snorted. "Hell no. Why do you think I signed up on the first trade ship that would take me? I'm not sticking around for that nonsense."
edit: forgot an important word. | "Sure, whatever you say." - Ka'rin walked away angrily because Ko'rok had wasted her time yet again.
It was well-known that Ko'rok is the biggest liar on the Kamiltrine ship. Ka'rin knew this of course, but the nature of her work, as the head of Earthlings' Behavior division, required her to stay informative about the development of the human race so she had to put up with all of Ko'rok's shenanigans.
Ko'rok, on the other hand, was a lowly observer whose job was to spent an entire day walking up and down the east hallway to watch for any changes on Earth. How he got this job even tho he could never report anything accurately was beyond Ka'rin. But they were simply too far from home to have him replaced with someone else, so she could do nothing but grudgingly put up with him.
***
*A few moments earlier*
"I swear I'm telling the truth. They put themselves in pressurized metal boxes and launch themselves out of their planet with liquid fuel canisters. Humans are insane"
"Sure, whatever you say"
Ko'rok observed as Ka'rin walked away angrily. He had never gotten tired of seeing her. The first time he saw her was 23 millennia ago on Telepathy channel 4S3, when she was still an unaccomplished scientist. He fell in love with her since then. When he found out that she was leading the Kamiltrine ship on a 5 millennia long voyage, he knew he had to get on there somehow.
Before boarding the Kamiltrine ship, Ko'rok was a professional private bodyguard for some of the utmost respected VIPs in his world. He had many connections, and one of those landed him with the observer job on the ship. Although he made considerably less compared to his previous job, he knew very well that all the money in the world could not match a single gaze from Ka'rin.
He didn't happen to be assigned on the east hallway on accident either. From his professional stand point, east hallway provided a clear view of the Earth and its moon. If the human decided to venture out to space, they would aim for the moon first and he would be the first one to see it.
He knew that Ka'rin only thought of him as a incompetent liar who could not do his job, but he didn't mind. He made sure that nobody on the ship believed him. He lied to everyone so that they could never rely on his reports thus slowing down the study on human race, giving him more time to share the same ship with her. However, he had never lied to Ka'rin. What he said earlier was the truth. The human race did flew to the moon in their metal pods. He knew if anyone saw that, they would requested to halt the voyage in fear of a security breach. So he had to go and report it to her before anyone else, knowing that she would never believe him. He knew that he was being selfish. He knew he was holding her back. But unlike her, he was no scientist striving for the better of their race. He was just an incompetent fool in everybody's eyes. He knew he was naught but a *hopeless romance*. | 2017-12-16T11:32:24 | 2017-12-16T10:30:45 | 561 | 221 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | People rush past me, breathless in their terror. My boots thunk on the metal floor as I pass them. Most would think i’m crazy, because who in their right mind would walk into a basement haunted by a ticking time bomb? But ever since the great turkey crisis of 2006 I’ve discovered that my abilities extend past the mundane... into the extraordinary.
I reach for the thick iron door, electricity sparking over my fingertips - most likely due to the stress of hosting such a volatile visitor. As I swing it open I am greeted with a spaghetti tangle of wires. I brush them away with impatience, and I focus my attention on the deceptively benign-looking metal box nestled between two large copper panels.
The bomb features a tiny LED screen that is ticking down before my very eyes. It never ceases to amaze me, how these shining boxes alter lives so drastically - but that’s why I’m here.
01:02,
plenty of time.
I shrug off my backpack, pulling out a little button that was repurposed from a childhood microwave - a device that taught me more than I ever hoped to know.
00:49
I set to work wiring the button to the bomb, double checking to make sure each wire is in place.
00:22
Almost done...
00:19
Boom. Perfection.
I sit back, wiping the sweat off my brow. Any second now... (no pun intended).
At precisely 00:03 my hand flies forward, firmly pressing the button I had wired in; the button that read
STOP
in bold smallcaps.
At 00:01 the bomb is frozen.
I always enjoyed catching the microwave before the timer went off. | Being homeless sucks. Being born homeless is far worse. Some people tell me I never even had the taste of freedom, that I didn't know what it was like to lose everything. Those people clearly have enjoyed the taste of a good meal, and that is something I would give anything for.
My parents died when I was eight, well my mother did. I never knew my father, my mother told me he was some drug addict that raped her while high off his ass, she never was one for subtly. Why bother being subtle when the world was so harsh and blatant. I often dreamed at night of sitting on top of a throne, the whole world bowing below me, but whenever I woke up I would realize my own reality, that I was a nobody with nothing.
I discovered my quirk when I was ten. I was sitting in the gutter, when I saw a small pink nose and two beady black eyes poking out through the gate. "Hey little fella." I said to the creature. I had seen rats before, I kind of sympathized with them. When you're at the bottom of the world there isn't much room for judgement. The rat looked shocked when I spoke, but oddly enough, it didn't run away. After several moments I heard a tiny squeaky voice... Well heard isn't the right word, I more felt the voice, in my bones. "What did you just say?" This time it was my turn to be shocked, I stared at the rat, the rat stared back at me. Finally we both spoke at once, "you can hear me?", "you can speak?" I coughed embarrassed, "You go first." The rat said. I shook my head, "Please, you first." We sat there on silence for several more moments, I was pondering what could possibly be going on here. I didn't really know about quirks, and so I just assumed that the rat was special, after all, it could talk.
Over the next few weeks, we talked often, taking companion ship in each other's missfortune. I told the rat, who's name was Longwisker what little my mother had taught me, and he told me what he knew about the world from the perspective of the sewers. One day he led me to a huge grate where the sewers opened into the ocean, it's bars had rusted away long ago, leaving a hole just big enough for me to squeeze through. I'm the sewers I met the rat's colony and found out that this wasn't just a special, that I could speak to all rats, that I was special. I taught the rats everything I knew from my life on the streets, what shops have the best food and the least scurity. Where to steal other supplies. What books were, I couldn't read, but I liked pictures and so did the rats. In other words I taught them how to be human.
That lead me to now, six years later. I sit here on my dirty throne, my vast kingdom expanding before me. I may not be on the top of the world, but I have what I need, leading my people.
I am the rat queen. | 2018-06-30T16:09:28 | 2018-06-30T14:40:32 | 865 | 336 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | Police helicopters roared overhead the densely packed apartment complex. In one of the tiny apartments below, I sat at a dingy kitchen table. Across from me, a man sat slumped in his chair, his hands cuffed behind him. A frustrated scowl etched on his face. "You couldn't have possibly traced the explosives", he said perplexed. "And you found me much too quickly after I announced my ransom demands..." I smiled, and said a phrase I'd uttered to hundreds of suspects before, "Well that's the thing Mr. Griggs, ever since I was a young boy I could always find the remote." His eyes widened in the sickening realization that he had just been collared because of my silly little ability to find the location of any remote control. Just then, one of the CSI detectives burst into the cramped kitched. "Sir, we can't find the remote detonator anywhere." I concentrated again to try and locate the precise location of the detonator within the apartment and my heart sank as my eyes drifted back towards Griggs. At that moment, his scowl turned into a crooked smile. "Isn't this a coincidence", he said in a twisted, jovial tone. "Ever since I was a boy, I never needed a remote." | Danny was what you would call a "gambling savant". He never seemed to lose any bet, no matter how outlandish. Everyone knew his gimmick: he'd flip a coin, call the sides in air and whatever it landed on, he would bet. Eagles or Patriots? He could tell you who would win based on a coin flip: heads for Eagles, tails for Pats.
He took his summer job savings of $1,000 and parlayed it into just over half a million before he turned 19. The hawks, the sharks, the eyes in the sky all monitored him. They dissected his behavior, strip searched him upon walking in the doors, and even tried to take away his coin. But all to no avail, it was never the coin. It was just *him* that was lucky. Short of losing all of his fingers and being unable to flip a coin by himself, Danny was going to win every bet until the day he died.
To the rest of the world, Danny was just Mr. Lucky. Couldn't lose if he tried. But the sharps knew his secret and they were tired of seeing Danny stroll in every day like clock work at 11 a.m., place his bets, finish his virgin ice tea and walk out... fully knowing that he would return later that evening and cash in a handful of winning tickets that would clean them out for anywhere from $100K to $5M depending on the sporting event of the day.
They hired a hitman to trail him. It wasn't easy... Danny had grown accustomed to sharps, sharks and desperate gamblers hounding him for the secret to his success. He had hired his own bodyguard to drive him to and from his home on the outskirts of Vegas. His home was surrounded by 10 feet walls and monitored 24/7 by a private security company.
The hitman knew his routine and knew that around 9 pm every evening, his driver turns down Las Vegas boulevard on the way off the strip. He runs the red light and times it perfectly as his lifted SUV smashes into the passenger side window of Danny's chauffeured Bentley.
The violent collision produced the most sickening sound, almost an explosion to anyone within 100 feet. When the smoke cleared and everyone could see inside the car, Danny was there. Eyes closed, still breathing, almost calm and relaxed. The hitman approached the car to see if he was successful.
Danny opened his eyes and looked at the other driver. "Something told me to sit on the other side of the car this evening."
He stepped out of the vehicle as emergency service responders descended onto the scene and the hitman could do nothing but look on. Danny left town and was never seen again. | 2018-06-30T18:35:57 | 2018-06-30T18:35:54 | 45 | 19 |
[WP] An accident during an experiment freezes you in time in public, completely invulnerable. Milennia later, you come out of stasis to find entire cultures centered upon your statuesque presence throughout their history. | They thought I couldn't sense anything, but they were wrong. I witnessed a thousand years before my unblinking eyes. I saw sunshine and rain. I witness life and death. I saw generations of people come and go. I had even contemplated a few folks for decades, seeing them being pushed by in a stroller, running pass me as children, grew up, romanced, and had their own offspring, then never to return. I wish I could tell those people how I adored watching them and I envied their lives. | Bren the window-washer had never felt so alive. It was their third week out dangling from the precipice of a 53-story glassy building looking in on what they used to be. A drone, or not even. Drones buzzed around doing this and that. The glassy-eyed workers inside stayed still, almost frozen in time, staring ahead, muscles atrophying with ever passing second.
But not Bren. They were outside where the wind whipped at their face and sound surrounded them, intriguing them occasionally.
Next, Bren washed the windows of Vivatech. Here, there were plenty of drones, poking at petri dishes and pressing their faces to microscopes. One floor though, was covered in black. Bren wondered why bother washing a window no one could see. Or maybe they could. Maybe it was like the mirrors in police stations where interrogations and confessions happened.
Bren imagined what was in there. The secret to everlasting life, probably. “Viva” meant life, so it stood to reason the buzzing lab techs were searching for the fountain of youth, or at least a chemical reaction to perpetual youth. Chuckling at the idea of what they’d do if they’d live forever, they kept sliding the foot-long squeegee across the black glass. For a moment, Bren felt like time slowed down. The suds dripped down like molasses. They blinked. And when they opened their eyes again, the glass became transparent.
Bren stepped back quickly, rocking their rig. They grabbed on tight to their harness. A large crowd inside the building rushed toward the window, waving and beating it, climbing over ropes. Some were crying. Were they trapped inside? Was Bren seeing something forbidden? These people needed help.
Bren looked left and right, more faces pressed to the glass. They looked up, people crouched down, faces pressed to the glass. They looked down, people climbing over each other to press their face to the glass. They turned around to look behind. Their face, giant, smiling, waving, winking down at them. | 2018-08-16T01:48:29 | 2018-08-16T01:44:45 | 45 | 13 |
[WP] “Congratulations!” the genie says. “Whatever you try to do today, I will make sure it succeeds brilliantly.” “Anything?” you ask, skeptical. “Yes,” the genie says, with a knowing smile. “Anything.” | "Then," I grabbed the genie's hand, a bright smile grows on my face. "While you're with me, I'll make the whole day the best day of your life!"
The genie's smile disappeared and they looked at me confusingly instead of disgust or any form of rejection.
"What?" Their tone flat.
"You heard me! Come on, let's go do something fun like the local carnival, travelling to new places or getting lost in the largest library in the world!" I turned to the direction of my entrance door, walking towards it until the genie themselves, still floated, unmoved.
Gently letting go of my hand, they back a step away, both their hands up in surrender. "I'm confused."
My head tilted at the side, my innocent smile still present. "What do you mean? I want to make your day better."
"I heard you once." They sigh, it seems it's a lot harder for the genie to comprehend this situation more than myself who easily accepts it. "Are you sure? I mean you could have asked for anything, I'll repeat to you again, _anything._"
They gave me a stern stare as if to think about this properly but it only earned a chuckle from me which makes them disbelief and more confused than before.
"But genie, everything in my life is going well!"
They stare at me, not trusting my sentence at all.
"Okay, maybe there are downs, " I continued, nonchalant about that kind of events.
"Hah!"
"But!" I stopped the genie from adding anything before I could finish. "The process of it is going well and I'm fine! Everyone I love is supporting me in my journey and always there." A small smile on my face as I finished my explanation. "I'm happy genie."
"Hmm." The genie rubbing their chin, clearly not believing every word I said. "Your positivity is frightening and you sound too cheery for this timeline and world."
I roll my eyes at their distrust but my smile still present, fond. "Making you happy also makes me happy how about that?" I extend a hand. "Adventure time?"
Their eyes narrow. "Is it also because I'm a genie and I can't say no to your wishes?"
I snort. This genie just wouldn't give up. | I rubbed a layer of dust off the kettle. It had a dent here and a dent there, each one a different story that I would never hear. The house had been empty for months now, collecting dust as I composed myself enough to sort through the belongings. A soft hum emanated from the shelf atop which the kettle sat, a steady crescendo that made the cracked mirrors and forgotten trinkets start to tremble. Then the hum came to an abrupt end and there was a grunt and out of the spout a genie emerged, pushing himself off the rim as he squeezed through the narrow orifice.
"Congratulations," he announced with a curious look around. Dust floated in the air, illuminated by the dim bulb and the rays of sunshine peaking through the window at the far end of the attic. "What a mess," he added after a moment, brushing off the dust that had settled on his shoulder. "Let's make this quick." I was already churning through ideas for my wishes, figuring out how to get the most use out of them. "Whatever you try to do today, I will make sure it succeeds brilliantly."
I gave him an odd look. Those weren't the rules, at least not in books and stories about genies that I had read. "How about my wishes?"
His clueless gaze betrayed his confusion. "I'm not that kind of genie. Wishes mean extended service, contracts, caveats..." He waved a hand around vaguely and pouted. "I'm getting this done today. Take it or leave it."
I shrugged. His demeanor was a little off-putting. But I wasn't about to leave an offer like that on the table or let it get covered in dust. "So anything I try?" The genie nodded confidently, his pout turning into a knowing smile. "Anything?" I repeated suspiciously.
"Anything, dude," the genie snapped. "Did I stutter or something? Are you daft?"
"No, no. Sorry. I was just making sure. Anything I do today will succeed."
"Brilliantly." He took one last look around the attic, his face a grossed-out scowl. "I'll be going now. Good luck."
And with a wave and a little hum from the kettle, he was gone. I glanced around for some worldly confirmation that he had been here. There was still undisturbed dust where he had stood. Real or not, I wasn't going to be spending a day with so much potential stuck in this attic. I gave the kettle one last look and then climbed down the rickety stairs and made my way out to my car.
I didn't crash, so that was saying something, but I hadn't crashed yesterday either and that was before the genie. For a brief moment, I struggled with the thought of what to do next but an uncharacteristic lucidity came over me. Maybe there was still a chance. Maybe we could work things out.
I parked in front of the house and barged in. She was doing her makeup and I shoved right past her. She glared at me. "I thought you were at your mom's house," she stabbed accusingly.
"Babe..." I reached out half-heartedly before changing my mind. Priorities. "We'll talk later. I really have to go." I locked the door to the bathroom behind me. Three weeks of steaks and burgers and fries. Mourning steaks and mourning burgers to go with morning steaks and morning burgers, all washed down with beer. But they hadn't done my stomach any favors. It was now or never.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-09-13T08:39:08 | 2019-09-13T08:14:57 | 119 | 15 |
[WP] One day, everyone wakes up to find themselves harnessing a superpower that relates to their biggest fear. You fear heights? Now you know how to fly. You hate spiders? Now you can talk to them. | Blindness, my greatest fear.
I had always had perfect vision, and that was what scared me; what if I lost it? Well, the thought of mildly bad vision scared me. Going blind? I just couldn't comprehend it. Living in complete darkness, forever. The mere thought sent shivers down my spine. I would happily lose a limb before my sight.
And so, on that fateful day when the world woke and literally conquered their fears through some magical mass blessing of powers, I awoke able to see *everything.* It was not an obvious power, or an obvious fear that I had openly shared with people. To people that would eventually ask, I would tell them I had been scared of nothing.
Upon waking that morning, I had been awestruck at the sheer plethora of colours that shone around me, thousands of slight variations beautifully distinct in what I would have, before, just called 'red', or 'blue'. Gazing into people's eyes became like staring deep into the endless sea of the universe; absolutely breathtaking.
After that came the extent of my sight. I could zoom in on both close and far objects, the effect of the zoom increasing each day as I used the ability to read far off signs and zoom in microscopically on insects and other things of interest. My bed sheets became an obsession; you would never believe what lives on them if you look closely enough.
Walls and objects too began to become transparent, my vision penetrating straight through, the level of penetration increasing with practice.
Seeing through people quickly followed. From into the clothes, to into their very bodies. I could see their organs, see the currents of blood swishing through their network of veins. Tumours and illnesses stuck out horrible and ugly, dark and diseased. With passing comments I would try to allude to people what may be wrong, without being too obvious.
It didn't stop there. With my focus on people and also on what I could do to help, their thoughts soon succumbed. Concentrating on their heads, I would begin to see lines of text reeling off, like speech bubbles in a comic book. Inner thoughts and feelings, described in more clarity than even the person they were originating from.
That was when I had realised that my gift hadn't been to able to see everything within the normal range of vision, but everything and anything within my desire to see.
With that thought, I had turned my gift to the future. | It's an odd and sudden event. The mixed emotions everyone has when it first started when they all first noticed it's not just them. A miracle to few, cursed to some and rest are just confused why has humanity got hold of it. Being awakened from your slumber and be able to have unimaginable superpower just at your fingertips. Was this your idea God?
It's all over the news, local channels, international channels, radio, newspapers, everyone is talking about it. I remembered no one believing it at first when those living in the south part of the Earth has them, it seemed too good to be true. Some even speculate there's a new kind of drug that had them all thinking they were from a superhero comic.
But it's here. It's in our reality.
It wasn't easy to display our newfound gifts, most by accident and some went havoc where fear brewed them to appear. The neighbourhood hectic as everyone went outside, I guess not wanting to destroy their place or just looking for explanations. Uncontrollable chaos outside as a car was burned and a few emitting lighting at the sky, violently destroying the street.
People were afraid of their gifts and they couldn't control them.
I stayed inside with doors locked and windows closed, hearing the background noises of my television where the newscaster tells everyone to calm down but still no solution to solve the pandemonium outside. They've not asked and publicised the solution from the southern countries yet.
I didn't understand at first. The repulsion, the fright and the ungratefulness. Mine wasn't instant like others were emotions are their trigger to awaken them.
I realised it slowly, voices that weren't my own. I shrugged at it, paid no mind, I've experienced it before and know what to do after multiple visits from my psychiatrist. I thought of it was nothing. I thought it was going to pass.
It got louder, out of place than the usual thoughts I have and out of topic. Much different than my intrusive thoughts. This curiosity emerged within me, the need to understand and discover this unwonted linger in my mind.
I wish I didn't listen to them. I wish I ignored them as before and just deny its existence. As if a trigger from my acknowledgement, it grew loud as if these voices we're right beside me where people crowding, surrounding every space around me in this room.
_What's going on?_ A voice louder than the others.
_Why can't I control them? Please make them stop!_ And another.
These are and were never mine. These are much worse than what I've experienced before. Hands covering my ears as I fall down the carpeted floor, eyes shut closed in terror, hoping it'll tune down. The solutions I had before, forgotten in dismay.
My power arises and it's telepathy.
"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to out loud these thoughts with my own voice as I grip onto the sides of my head.
At the background, the television goes on but I didn't hear them. There was too much noise, I couldn't.
"Please, we'd like you to cooperate." The newscaster continued talking. "We finally received news from the psychologists of the southern countries, who have researched despite these times, about the unusual appearance of these powers."
The newscaster blatantly looked at the paper provided on her desk. "From the information given from our foreign alliances, these powers are connected to our fear. Both sides of the same coin. We ask you again to stay calm as emotions may trigger it more."
As if being told to look professional, she looks straight at the camera still composed and voice clear. "Professionals will be provided to ease and control at each hospital, clinics and faculties. We need you to not use these powers until it's been solved." | 2019-09-19T04:09:08 | 2019-09-18T21:51:17 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions. | ”Would you stop that noise already!?”
Percival the Lustrous stopped randomly strumming his lute for a long silent moment. He then smiled, shook his head, and broke into another grating acoustic rendition of “The Magnificant Wall of Thornwood”. I grit my teeth and went back to my tomes and maps, spread out across the makeshift table near the campfire. It had been five days of this. Five days.
The moment I had regained some measure of concentration, the back half of an elk was slammed forcefully down in front of me. My table collapsed, parchment flying into the evening air. “Oops” smirked the Orlaf the Red, to the great mirth of the rest of the adventuring party. He flexed his muscles and proudly pointed at the bisected animal. “Didn’t know where else to put dinner”.
Trying to remain composed, I started picking up by scrolls and books. Just a few more days Gamon, I thought to myself. Just a few more days and you can scrap this adventuring party. Find a group that respects your intelligence. People who know what metamagic is, who will join you in lively discussions about the ethics of conjuration. I shook my spellbook, trying to detach a bit of guts from chapter 4. More snickering. Always the snickering.
“Figured out where we have to go yet, G? Finally going to be useful and lead us to the town?” asked Percival, still idly strangling the life out of his lute. I wanted to object, hoped to explain that the only reason we were lost was that no one ever listened to my suggestions, but my voice would crack and they would laugh at me again. I wanted to curse, but I knew the cleric would just put me in timeout again for taking the Divine’s name in vain. So instead I left, sobbing quietly and hugging my spellbook to my chest. I sat down on a pile of dirt in the darkness while the rest of the party did Divine knows what in the camp. Carouse, probably. Maybe they brought girls over. I was never invited, anyway.
Suddenly the darkness solidified, and an imposing figure in spiked armor stepped out of nothing. “Greetings, chosen one” it droned, as dark imposing figures do. “I have come to offer you a..”
“Wow!” I interrupted, unable to hide my excitement. “Was that a teleport without error spell? Shadow magic? What level are you?!” This was incredible! Another mage! Maybe he wanted to hear about my new eidolon anchoring harness? Was that too soon? Would that be weird?
The dark figure paused, trying to collect his train of thought. “I have come to offer you..”
“And in platemail?! I don’t even know how that works! Does it work? Is this evil stuff? Wow! I am ready to be seduced by the power of shadows! Just teach me man!” I pleaded.
The dark figure stood silently for a moment. “Your friends..”
“Friends? You want me to sacrifice my friends? Done!” I said frantically, hurriedly hurling a fireball back at the camp. The tents were consumed by conflagration, the laughter of my party replaced by cries of terror, the wailing of the lute replaced by quiet smoldering. I looked expectantly back at the dark figure, who stared transfixed at the camp.
“What? What just..” he asked himself, not meeting my gaze.
“So? I am ready! Take me away, dark lord!” I wailed. Finally! Finally I found a friend! We were going to discuss collapsible robes and the benefits of different Ioun stones! We would..
“I.. Need to go and get.. I’ll, uh, catch up with you..”
With a ‘pop’ the dark figure was gone, and I was left alone in the clearing, dusk slowly turning into night.
Man. This always happened. | "Mister Overlord, sir," I said as I bowed to the Dark Overlord himself. I didn't expect his presence. Not here. Not in the middle of the camp. Outside I could hear the leaves rustling in the evening wind. A dog snored peacefully, undisturbed by the entity that had materialized at the foot of my makeshift bed.
"Mister Dark Overlord to you," he answered with a scowl.
I bowed my head lower and mumbled an apology. "Mister Dark Overlord, sir, sorry, sir." He grunted his approval.
I had always been the Chosen One. We knew from the day I was born with the comet passing overhead. They never let me forget, not while I was out playing with the other children of the camp as we continued our pilgrimage towards the foreboding walls of the Holy City. Not while I was out foraging for berries with the other women or when I joined the men in the Small Council meetings. "You'll go with them to the Unified Council, someday," my mother always said. "The first girl to join them." That's where they left to on the eve of the full moons to return a fortnight later. That sounded splendid and whatever, but I really just didn't care.
All we did was walk. We walked to the Holy City and when we got there we would walk along those sacred roads and pray at some sacred altar to some sacred guy who never showed his face. And then we would walk right back to where we came from, deep in the forest in the foothills on the other side of the mountains. Crossing the mountains had been - believe it or not - just as much walking as expected. My favorite yak had died. I missed him.
Still I bowed, silently awaiting the Dark Overlord's next words. He could kill me right then and there if he wanted. It would be a welcome respite from the walking. He could turn me into a goat that my parents would obliviously eat for dinner the next evening. He could turn me into a tent, and then they would find a tent within a tent and burn both tents as heretics.
"I want you to join me," he said finally. I gasped and struggled to compose myself. I peeked up at him, thinking perhaps he was playing one of those cruel jokes that his minions often played. Sometimes the leaders want to get in on the fun, I've heard. That's why the members of the Small Council will walk around kicking the children. Just for fun. But his face was serious. If this was a joke, then he his delivery was spotless. I decided to take the bait, like a hungry fish leaping for a toe dipped into the river.
"I would be honored," I said, bowing deeply again. He had already begun to talk again, spouting threats about this or that and how chewy a goat I would be.
"-wait, what? You would? You'll join me?"
I rose to my feet to speak to him almost as an equal. We would be colleagues, at the very least. The Dark Overlord and the one the Dark Overlord lords over. Wordy, but I'm sure we could come up with something better together. "Yeah, sure. I hate it here. All we do is walk. Walk and talk and walk some more. You can fly, right?"
He seemed uncertain. "Yes. Well, I mean, no." He was flustered, fumbling over his words. "Not fly, per se. I can materialize though. Like I just did. I can teleport. I can do a lot of things. I'll teach you. You can be my protege."
I shrugged. "Yeah, whatever works. No need to convince me. I'm in."
"You don't need my mission statement? My goals? My sob story that I had ready to convince you to join my side?"
"No. I already told you, I'm in. I hate it here."
He seemed downfallen and I wondered if maybe he was looking for a nemesis instead of a protege. Then his face brightened again. "Can I still tell you the sob story?" Seriously? Now? With the dog snoring right outside the tent and guards strolling around the perimeter?
"Can it wait? Shouldn't we get going?"
He shook his head insistently. "I was really excited. Let me tell you." So he did. He told me of how he used to have to walk thousands and thousands of miles as a kid, until his feet were blistered and bleeding and until the yaks dropped dead from exhaustion. And still he walked. And even after going three months without food and water - yes, he said three months without water - still he walked. And finally one day as his tribe walked through the desert, he came across a magical fountain. He really was an awful story-teller. This was barely believable and his vocabulary was like that of my infant brother.
"This is all made up, right?" I interrupted. He nodded. "Can we just go? I promise I'll listen later."
He humphed but was seemingly satisfied by getting the beginning of his invented story out. "Fine," he said finally. "Let's go." And then he grabbed my arm and whisked me to the Dark Realm.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-09-26T06:42:55 | 2019-09-26T06:10:22 | 182 | 101 |
[WP] Apparently the ability to speak and understand multiple languages simultaneously is a trait almost unique to humans, so when the alien's came it wasn't for our water, our resources, or our culture; it was for us, the greatest translators in the galaxy. | Linguists know that the average person has an active vocabulary of around 20,000 words - the words they actually use on a day-to-day basis, but has a passive vocabulary of around 40,000 words - the words they generally know without having to look it up or figure it out from context. Though only about 1,000 different words are used in a typical day.
Xenolinguists, on the other hand, know what the average alien has an active vocabulary of around 5,000 words, and a passive vocabulary of around 15,000 words. It's not that they're stupider or anything, it's just the way things shook out. Their languages tends to be more generalized for day-to-day usage, with the more specific variations reserved for specializations that actually need them - basically they tend to have a simple language with hundreds, maybe even thousands of specialized lingos that you learn on the job - and specialization is how you get civilization. Your average xeno went from steam to space in about half the time it took us, thanks to how their languages worked out.
But it's well known in the human world that engineers and salesmen don't speak the same language, and for many aliens this is literally true.
And so we found our niche in a crowded universe. We're not a proud warrior race. We're not clever engineers. We're not crafty strategists.
No, we're middle management. People with the innate, and to some, *uncanny* ability to learn and actually use the language of such disparate groups as congressmen and garbage collectors without becoming incomprehensible to electricians. | Wait. This cannot be happening. There are not actually aliens standing at the front of the classroom right now. I’m almost afraid to turn around and observe the rest of the room but I do manage to take a peek at my closest friend Bridgette. She’s not moving, is she frozen?
“What do you want from us?” I whip my head around to the opposite side of the room and see Josh. He’s standing up with his hand in a fist, resting demandingly on his desk. I don’t even have time to wonder why Bridgette is frozen but Josh isn’t before he speaks again. “Listen we can’t help you, or give you what you want if you don’t communicate with us.”
I wasn’t surprised that Josh was speaking up like this. I’ve always thought of him as the most courageous person I know. This is just confirming it.
“And what do you want from us specifically?” Not Josh this time. Who said that? I wondered as I turned towards the voice. Unlike Josh, she was still sitting at her desk, she was slouched back, seemingly annoyed with the situation. As if an Alien Invasion was inconvenient for her in this moment. “Why is everyone frozen except the three of us?” I recognized her face but I could not recall her name. Maybe it was the shock of the situation, or maybe I just wasn’t good with remembering first impressions. She was a very new student, just started a few days ago.
Though her name escapes me, her question almost brings me back to reality. I have time to wonder now.. why? Why us? Why me in particular.. I’m nothing special.
The Aliens haven’t reacted to us at all, they stood and watched us in a way that was completely unnerving but almost comforting. I was deciding if I should speak up when I noticed one Alien specifically looking at me. The second we made eye contact, he started advancing towards me.
Suddenly everything felt slow motion. I didn’t know how to react, but I had plenty of time to decide. I was still sitting down in my desk, with my legs crossed. Just like I always am in class. Do I rise and try to match the Aliens height? Will that seem threatening? I don’t want to threaten them. Right? Do I remain seated but sit completely straight?
I look towards Josh, he’s still standing but he looks nervous as he watches the Alien approach me. I look towards new girl.. is she actually rolling her eyes right now? I don’t remember deciding but suddenly I was standing on top of my desk as the Alien arrives in front of me.
“What do you want from us!” It’s not even a question, I’m demanding.
I wasn’t sure Aliens could smirk, but I felt this one did. “We’ve hired you three as translators for our galaxy. Congratulations.” I knew he wasn’t speaking English, but I understood him?
—————————
Hi, wow! I’ve been lurking this subreddit for a while and this my first post haha. I’m not an author in any way, but I wanted to try it out! Sorry if there are formatting issues I’m on mobile. | 2019-10-05T15:21:23 | 2019-10-05T14:36:14 | 47 | 18 |
[WP] Everyone's soulmate's name is written on their right wrist when they turn sixteen. The left has worst enemy. Your left and right wrist say the same thing. | I wait in my room in the cold light of dawn
To see what the writing is going to say.
And if it says 'William', we'll up and be gone,
A couple of soulmates just running away.
Two lovers like us can't be broken apart
By family feuds started decades ago.
I wait in my room with my hand on my heart
To see on my skin what I already know.
And 'William McGee' is the name that appears.
I smile and look down for my enemy's name.
I gasp and turn pale, overwhelmed by my fears,
For 'William' it says, with the surname the same.
Could Old William, Senior, be on to our plan?
I picture his face with a soul full of hate,
The murderous patriarch loved by his clan.
No matter, I think, because he'll be too late.
I run to the window to wave at my love.
I whisper 'I'm coming' and throw down a rope.
Then climb down three stories and land from above
Upon William's horse with a flickering hope.
I turn back to kiss him and show him my wrist.
"It's you!" I cry out. "Now let's go catch that boat!"
He touches his lip at the spot I have kissed
Then mutters, "I'm sorry" while slitting my throat.
Betrayal and blood stain the snow on the ground.
With tears in his eyes he lets loose with an oath.
Before I can perish, he spins me around.
He shows me his arms and my name is on both. | Felicity never cared about what names would show up on her wrist on her sixteenth birthday. Everyone else was always excited for the Revelation. Would their crush be on their right wrist? Would that witch Sally from English class be on their left? The possibilities were endless!
But Felicity grew up watching what a soulmate can really do. She watched as her father was abusive to her mother and siblings. She felt the sting of his hand across her face and the pressure of his fingers around her throat.
She knew her mother's story. At Melissa's Revelation she was so excited to see the name Skylar etch itself into her right wrist. *What a wonderful name* she thought. It was something beautiful and airy. She couldn't wait to meet them. Ten years later she met Felicity's father. He went by Skylar, his middle name. Melissa wouldn't learn this until four months later at their wedding where she learned his first name was Fredrick. She couldn't believe it. Fredrick was the name on her left wrist. Felicity believes that at that point her mother should have ran as far away from that terrible man as she possibly could, but she didnt. Melissa stayed, and has regretted that decision everyday.
It didnt take long for Fredrick Skylar to get violent, but it was already too late for Melissa to leave. Felicity was a honeymoon baby. The unhappy couple ended up having five kids in total before finally taking responsibility for their reproduction. The damage was already done, though. The older kids grew up trying to protect their younger siblings, Felicity getting the brunt of most of her father's punishments. So, no, she wasn't excited to learn her fate.
She had also watched good come out of the idea of soulmates, though. She watched her friends in school live happy, healthy lives with parents who truly loved each other. Felicity envied them, but she never allowed herself to wish for something so impossible. She knew better than to hope for a happy ending.
So when her sixteenth birthday came along and her friends threw her a surprise countdown party for her Revelation, Felicity put on the best fake smile she could.
3...She could see the excitement on everyone's face.
2...Her mom was looking at her with hope in her eyes. A plea that her eldest daughter can have something more than she ever did.
1...Fear engulfed Felicity. She wasnt ready. She had hope. Why did she have hope!? Why was she afraid of being let down!?!?
0...The slight burning sensation in her wrist made the fear swell even more. There was no point in worrying now, it was already too late. Yet when she looked down at her wrists, her heart skipped a beat.
First, she looked at her left wrist. Was it Sally? Felicity bet it was Sally. It wasnt Sally. There on her wrist, in bold, red letters, was scrawled the name Felicity. She wasn't ready for that.
Her gaze quickly moved on to her right wrist. Felicity. Again, her wrist said Felicity. | 2020-01-18T23:55:28 | 2020-01-18T23:12:39 | 44 | 10 |
[WP] From a bug's perspective, humans are ageless eldritch beings who would kill them without a second thought. You are a fly among many, infesting one of their basements, but one of your kind made the mistake of irritating the human. Now the human is out for blood. | Our greatest bard sang before the king, her voice resonant with tales of love and loss most days. I can hear the mighty crescendos and deep sadness in her voice. A Portuguese fado touched with the operatic.
Bzzzzzzzz Bz Bzzzzz BBzzzzz...
But today was different. Larry has bitten the young one. Broken the unspoken rule. We lived at peace for the most part with the human gods. While they could determine our fate with a flick of their wrist, they rarely did. Only the most meddlesome of our brethren incurred their wrath.
Armed with their Deep Woods Off, the humans fought back far greater menaces than us: bees, wasps, mosquitoes.
We? We were inconsequential.
Until that fateful day, when Larry bit the human youngling’s arm and it swelled to twice its size. Sweat covered and racked by fever, her cheeks were wet from tears.
A human came, with a stethoscope around his neck. A thermometer in his hand. Said she had Typhoid. Might not make it. That flies spread the disease.
Goddamn it Larry! We had a truce.
Now, we would be eradicated. For I knew as a young father of several hundred, that I too would be angered by even one of their deaths. And this was the humans’ only one.
The child grew better. More stable.
But the humans knew they must seek revenge.
The humans left the house. Bags packed.
Four men in billowing protective suits and masks came in their stead.
Great clouds of poisonous gas choked the lives out of young and old alike. Spider, mosquito, wasp...it mattered not.
The great holocaust took all in its path.
My dying moments I heard the bard. She sang of great sadness. The end of our people. Her lovely voice cracking from the choking air.
Bzzzzzzzzz bZ zZZZ bbbbbbbbb zzzz...
It would be her last song. | The Great Humanoid Abomination opened the hole to this universe and strode inside, causing the brown dust we had so carefully and painstakingly placed to break free from the ceiling of heaven and drift down in a haze.
The hive buzzed with anticipation. The die was cast and our fate was sealed, for we had long since realized that we would not thrive in this realm of six great barrier-walls and eight damp, dark corners. We had already exhausted the sphere's food supply, harvesting the existing family of rats and nursing two of their females to produce more food, but such a scarce amount of nutrients limited our growth and stunted our potential.
Using the rat holes we scouted the universe above, returning to our brethren with news of abundant food sources and of a great blue void that could be seen through huge clear barriers, stretching to infinity.
"I haven't been down here in ages," Jack said to himself, peering into the dark while he waited for the dust to settle. The light switch was unresponsive. Just then, with a flash of understanding, Jack realized how heavy of a toll the divorce had taken on him.
The basement used to be his favorite place, where he experimented with all kinds of hijinks, enjoying his double-ego however cliched it was. By day he was a high school chemistry teacher. By night a passionate entrepreneur, seeking the perfect combination of chemicals.
He could just see his work bench, scattered with half-full jars and vials and his open notebook. He'd been at this hobby for years, always defending it as a business venture but secretly more than satisfied with the interesting and often surprising interactions of the mixtures he produced. A shelf ran along one side of the basement, filled with ancient books on alchemy and their more modern interpretations, many of which skirted the boundaries between fantasy and science.
I can't even remember what I was working on, Jack thought with a start, realizing just how much time it had been since he had last been in the basement. Yesterday he had finally emerged from three months of lawyers and painful arbitration and for the last few days, long soul-crushing hours in a court room. Now he was single and childless, with nothing but his job and this house. His ex-wife had taken the kids far away to live with the man who, she had told Jack right before she left for good, had been her true love since high school.
Jack stepped slowly down the stairs, feeling his way along the wall. The basement should not be this dusty, he thought. He had always kept it clean and spotless.
A nail scraped against his left leg. "Fuck," he said out loud, his hand involuntarily snapping to the source of the pain. He peered through the dark at the blood on his palm. "Since when did I leave exposed nails around?"
The door slammed shut. Jack jerked upwards and banged his head against the basement ceiling. The impact caused him to lose balance and fall the last couple of stairs onto the hard floor. He rolled onto his back, dazed but mostly unhurt except for a sharp pain on the side of his skull. The cracked cement felt cold against his back.
A low buzzing materialized from nowhere, distant at first but growing steadily until it was an unmistakable frenzy of sound, encompassing the dark entirely.
We watched as the Great Abomination fell an impossible distance, crushing those of us who had been stationed around the entry point, their demise unnoticed by the immense wall of heat-flesh as it crashed to the bottom of the world.
A command echoed from the hive, amplified by the buzzing of fifty thousand fanatics.
Now. | 2020-08-13T13:01:38 | 2020-08-13T12:10:46 | 114 | 65 |
[WP] Ten year ago your mentor told you "Kid, here's a dirty little secret about magic. You can just make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who take it seriously really mad." Today you're one of the least respected (and most powerful) mages on the continent. | I never regretted turning my rival, Doloferes Bang, into mustard. As his cape collapsed in a freak display of condimental damnation I relished in witnessing his final dressing down. Those fools. "Proper magic demands rigor," they'd say. Well, I demand only rigor mortis. There's a stiff prize to pay for anyone who dares go against me.
It started with the pig Latin--an experiment. The rest of the mages in my class buried their faces in old, dusty books, learning the old tongue so as to make use of the traditional teachings. My advisor took me aside one day, tossed his bottle of Serbian rum out the window, and told me to forget about all that. "It's just to impress the stuck-up guilds," he said. "Doesn't really matter. Go ahead. Try."
And try I did.
"Urntay intoyay oupsay!" I chanted, and our professor's coffee turned into soup. Before he could spit it out, I continued, "Onguetay otay oonspay!" It was a glorious sight to behold. It was all I could think about as the blamblamtors escorted me off the premises.
Sure, I am blacklisted from every guild in the realm. But who cares a fig about guilds when you can turn their members into figs by burping a spell?
Today is the day I shall perform my masterpiece. A spell to bind the world. An incantation to transform a nation. A chant to change it all.
It took all my quest treasure, but I finally got my hands on it: the horn of Blörnshaft the Elder. With this I can amplify my magic such that it can blanket the realm.
Taking a deep breath, I prepare to alter it all. First, to make sure it will be irreversible:
"NO TAKING BACKSIES."
That should suffice. And now, for the spell.
"SOMETIMES GOATS!" I cry at the top of my lungs. A sole 'bah' echoes from the distance. And then I see it. And it is beautiful. Hills. Trees. Even the sun. Everything changes randomly into goats and back. Blipped into existence, they bleat.
If only Doloferes were to see it. He'd hate it. He'd hate it so much.
I shed a lone tear. For today I had achieved greatness. | Arson cakes the dirt roads behind an enraged youth, covered in a wizard's cloak painted in brown, that of peasant wear. He had been treading for days reeking an aura of fire. Shocked villagers call out to him as he makes his way to a crimson wooden hut. He kicks inside of it, as always the inside of her hut is larger than it ought be, the inside mimicking the Royal Castle itself. Truly blashphemous.
Sensing the witch's presence inside the illusion he becomes dust and phases through the walls, flying into the pseudo-dining room. She stood tall and tawny, with a thin green dress and cloak. Naturally, she was expecting him. As he formed he chopped her warm greeting with vitriol that could be mistaken for an angry bark.
"Hail fellow... surely you are justified in breaching my domicile, yes?"
"Gisela Godfrey!" the youth pointed at her, suspended in the air. "You've made a mockery of witchcraft, and now you mock the King with this mock-up of yours?" He growls gesturing around the room.
Her eyes speak of a perplexed, flickering mind. "None of this is real, you know?"
"Like your forgery of the arts? Your hut is burning as we speak. But nothing's on fire, know why?"
"Are you hungry Leotic-"
"Your untested, phoney, fire resistance spell. And this," the youth shouts as a large ball of fire forms in his hand "I learned this spell by the book. anti-fire resistance fireball."
The witch's body was engulfed in ash and smoke in moments, although she did not react as she should have. As the fire on her suit spread to her chair and table, her flame went dead.
"Anti-anti-fire resistance fireball cloak." She smiled maliciously.
"... When did you create that spell?"
"Five seconds ago."
"FUCK!" The youth flung his arms upward, punching the air in rage.
She pouted. "You were creating that spell from the day I killed your father weren't you, pity."
"Telepathy... hahaha, don't you DARE talk about my father!" The youth unseathed a knife from his pocket, flung towards the witch and stabbed her in the chest. Before she saw, she was dead to rights, bleeding through her clothes. "Bullseye" he whispered, coldly.
The witch coughed up some blood, groaned, and looked to him. "... Missed the vitals."
"What? It's in your heart!"
"Ummm... actually," She coughed again. "It never went through."
The knife was under her armpit.
"Wai- what the-"
"It only looked as thought the knife went into my heart to the Redditors reading this," Gesturing to her now nonexistant wounds. "What actually happened is that you doubted what you were about to do to me, since you're such a nice boy and all, like your father. So at the last second you turned your knife away and it went under my armpit, tore my suit a bit. But I can forgive you for that."
"I... I didn't even do that! I wanted to kill you. What the fuck is a Reddit- I- wasn't even in this position-"
"AND THEN-" She sung, rushing to douse the fire the youth had created earlier, "Then you decided, since you tore my suit, you'd give me all of your gold as an apology. Because you're such a sweet young man and all. Even though I forgave you. Then-"
"Shut up!" The youth cried out. "You'll rue this day! The wizard's guild will be on your ass in a fortnight! The witch's guild will use your bones as instruments! You're dead!"
She frowned mildly, dreading the inconvenience "...then you shat on the King's throne." | 2021-08-26T19:12:10 | 2021-08-26T18:37:26 | 144 | 80 |
[WP] The nearby Village simply knows you as the hunter who lives in the forest, but you have a dark secret. You are the former dark Lord. Today you returned from a hunt and found the Hero that defeated you in your Hut. | The Painted King felt no surprise when he returned from town to find the Rebel leaning contentedly against the entrance to his hut, just mild disappointment. “I’d hoped I’d have more time.” He brushed back the hood of his cloak, revealing a face of brown mottled with white, like a map of some strange land. “Well, after you,” he said, gesturing to the door at her back. She frowned briefly, weighing his lack of reaction, then opened the door without a word and went inside. The Painted King followed her in and set about putting away the produce he’d traded for while the Rebel surveyed the spartan accommodations.
“Must be quite the change from your palace in the capital. Never pegged you for a survivalist.”
“I wasn’t always a king, you know.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
The Painted King smiled. He retrieved a flagon of ale from his pantry and held it up for her approval. She nodded, so he set it on the lone table in the hut, then went to find mugs. The Rebel sat at the table, leaning forward on brown arms mottled with white folded before her, and studied the Painted King as he searched his cupboard.
“When you fled the capital all those months ago, I thought for sure you had some failsafe tucked away, some backup plan to return to power. I sent scouts all over the country hunting for you.” The Painted King joined her at the table and filled both mugs, then slid one to the Rebel, who nodded her thanks. “Didn’t take long for rumors to reach me of a secretive hunter who appeared out of nowhere shortly after the fall of the capital and never showed his face. Those townsfolk aren’t as oblivious as you seem to think they are,” she said with a wry smile.
“I... may have grown slightly out of touch with the common folk over the years.” The Rebel chuckled, took a swig of ale, and tried to stifle a wince. It was clearly not the work of a skilled brewer.
“I didn’t know what to make of it, so I had you watched. Didn’t believe it at first, but after months of consistent reports, it really seems like you’re a changed man.”
The Painted King took a long draught from his mug, then shook his head. “People don’t change Rebel. This is just survival. I gambled everything on the battle at Ennes, and when you broke my forces there the rest was inevitable. So I made a calculated bet that if I didn’t keep making trouble you’d let me live.”
The Rebel looked down at her mug. “Isn’t that still a change, though? What does it matter why someone chooses to be good as long as they make the choice?”
“You sound more like you’re trying to convince yourself than me. Why do you want to believe I’ve changed?”
The Rebel was silent for a moment, then looked up and met the Painted King’s eyes. The woman who’d seemed so confident now seemed uncertain, even scared. When her voice returned it was a whisper. “Am I... am I going to end up like you?”
“Why do you ask that?”
The Rebel held her mug with both hands, knuckles white with tension. “The prophesies said that only another Painted One could defeat the Painted King, but no one could every tell me *why* that was true, or what power or ability being Painted gives. What if the power of being Painted also corrupts, and that’s what lead you to be a tyrant? The people are looking to me to take your place, but what if I end up being just as bad as you are?”
“Ah,” the Painted King said, leaning back in his chair. “To tell you a secret, I’m not actually a painted one.”
“What?”
The Painted King held out a hand and regarded it with a slight smirk. “These are just tattoos. I had them done a few generations before I spread the rumors that only a Painted One could defeat me.”
“You... you started the prophesies? But...”
“What we call “Painted Ones” are just a quirk of birth, like people with an extra finger or webbed toes – exceedingly rare, but with no particular significance. By sending agents out to kill them shortly after birth, I ensure that one slips through the cracks to launch a rebellion every century or so. I find that it’s healthy for a nation to go through a major rebellion about that often. There needs to be a release to the dissent that festers under the surface, like lancing a boil.”
The Rebel sat agape, still clutching her mug, and began to sweat. “But... this time you lost. Your hubris finally caught up with you.” She intended it as a statement, but her uncertainty made it a question.
The Painted King smiled. “You don’t really grasp how old I am, do you?” He said something unintelligible to the Rebel. “That was the language spoken in this country when I was born. The way language evolves has never ceased to amaze me. Even just a few millennia ago the language we spoke here would be totally unrecognizable to you.” The Rebel was trembling now. “Anyway, yes. This time I lost. But it is not the first time, nor will it be the last.”
The Rebel pulled a dagger from her belt and lunged across the table, ramming it through the Painted King’s throat, and then convulsed, falling to the floor. After a few moments the convulsions slowed, and eventually stilled. The Painted King finished his mug of ale and then pulled the dagger from his neck and placed it on the table, the wound sealing shut. He rose, stepping over the Rebel’s corpse on his way to the door and talking wistfully to himself. “I do enjoy these little breaks.” | I returned from an unsuccessful hunt again. Starving. Blasted this winter. The snow makes it hard to walk, and the accursed snowfall makes my sight no farther than what this dim lantern will provide.
My breath is ragged and my groans of disdain are coarse. How I continued to live like this, I do not understand. But I wish I could stop it. After walking for what must’ve been hours amongst this winter’s night, I finally made it to my desolate hut of a cabin.. with nothing in hand.
Just yards beyond my home, I had paused my lethargic march. The fire from inside is not dead. It’s still very much alive compared to what it was like when I left to hunt. I hung my extinguished lantern on my hip as I was concealed in the blinding dark.
I took my bow off my back and quickly gathered an arrow from my quiver. I continued to make haste and prepared to defend my home if I had to. After a moment’s more, I was just beyond the door when I heard movement even through the loud winds blasting into my ears. I slowly reached for the handle and grabbed tightly.
Without a moment of hesitation, I barged through the open doorway and took hold of my bow and arrow. A person in a cloak was standing just beyond the primitive fireplace, everything about them was obscured as my face felt the heat, bringing warmth to my cold undead eyes. My eyes watered and the frost slowly began to melt from my face.
*”Who are you, intruder? Show yourself.”* My voice felt raw as I spoke. The first words I have uttered in what could’ve been years.
The figure stood still in front of the fire. They did not talk as I continued to interrogate.
*”Speak now or you’ll have my arrow in the back of your skull. I am not going to ask again.”* The creak of my bow was the only other thing aside from the whistling outside wind that broke the silence.
They began to move and I reacted by taking my stance, on the verge of releasing the arrow into their neck to sever the spine. Their arms rose until they had their hands in the air. The sheen of the daggers’ blades in their hands was illuminated by the bright flames in front of them. Unexpectedly, the daggers fell to the floor by the intruder’s feet.
The silence of the intruder was finally broken as they suddenly began to speak. “Rotmir…” Their voice was hard to identify; ragged, androgynous, yet somehow familiar. But with an intense realization, they said something no one has said to me in a long time. They said my name.
*”Who are you? How do you know that name?”* My panic began to stew deep inside my chest. That fear bubbled into anger, and that long dormant rage I tried to contain for so long was bursting at the seams. My grip on my bow tightened and my aim was quaking.
The figure turned their head towards me, and I saw the black veil that covered their face. “You know me, Rotmir..”
My blood ran colder than the winter air. Without hesitation, I released the arrow and the hut’s walls were only met with the sound of a small puncturing thud.
She stood there with the arrow in her right shoulder, more to the left and it would’ve punctured her spine. She never even flinched. She instead turned around to look at me. The front of the arrow poked through the other end of her.
With not even a breath wasted, she grabbed the arrow by the tip and pulled it slowly all the way through. I watched frozen as the bloody arrow was dropped to the floor, but the blood was not red. It was not of a man’s blood. It was green and slimy.
“I’m not here to fight.” Her voice grabbed my attention. I tried to gain my composure, trying to quell the rising anger that burned bright deep inside of me.
*”Then you have come to watch me wallow in my defeat. Watching a once great king become a shadow, nothing more than a dried husk..”*
“No, I have not. And you were not great. You were too far gone, and what you are is what you did to yourself. You brought this curse and it’s your punishment for what you have done to the lands of Vallath, and the darkness you brought onto the Elvens!” Her voice was rising in sudden anger, but she quickly caught herself. She fell silent.
The cold air was starting to diminish the warm fire. Ignoring the anger I swallowed my pride and shut the door behind me, and I grabbed my lantern and hung it. I walked over to my table that lay next to her and put my bow down along with my quiver.
My large black coat rested on the poorly crafted backrest of a chair and I took a seat. She did not speak a word. Her face was still concealed by the veil. What had made her don that mask?
*”If you have not come here to fight or to humiliate me, why have you come then? There’s nothing for you here Salara.”* I said in a somber tone. My throat was in sharp pain with each and every word I had spoken. I turned to look at her.
“There is something here that I need, that corruption is starting to spread again. And this attack doesn’t just mean the fall of the Elven Kingdom, this curse is starting to take everyone with it. All are becoming susceptible to this new plague. I need your help.”
I started to laugh, which only managed to come out as a dry wheezing and loud hacking. *”What can I possibly do to help you? You were able to stop it the first time, what has changed Slime?”*
“What has changed is that I need a solution…” I looked at her as she l became quiet again as she stood in front of me, her hands slowly lifted the veil and I saw her true face.
Her eyes were bloody and scabbed, unnaturally sharp teeth were starting to show themselves over the original ones, her skin was becoming grey and it was wrinkled and rough like an elephant’s hide. It was a hideous sight compared to the face I once remembered so vividly in battle. A face I grew to hate and resent.
“Your solution. I need to find out how you became partially immune to the curse. I need more time so I can rid this affliction from my soul. I want you to tell me everything you know.” She said in a controlled voice, but I could hear the small desperation behind it.
I sat there silently for what could’ve been minutes deep in contemplation. She sat down on the table looking at the warm fire. My deathly voice spoke and almost startled her.
*”If I help you, I will do it only on one condition..”*
She looked at me waiting, not bothering to speak up.
*”After this is done and you possibly win this war against the darkness, I ask of you to kill me and vanquish my soul.. Do we have a deal?”* I looked into her eyes and I saw the darkening resolve, and the resent in them. Then the following calmness in her voice told me this promise would be easily fulfilled. No questions were even asked, which is what I wanted.
“Yes, we have a deal.” | 2021-11-03T20:51:40 | 2021-11-03T18:35:48 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] A woman prophesied to give birth to the Chosen One gives birth to triplets instead. | _"You know the prophecy."_
A figure with a gun stood in the shadows, speaking in an oddly high voice.
"But..."
_"There is no use, you fiend. I am the Chosen One. Give up."_
That voice would make any self-respecting villain want to give them a punch in the mouth. Unfortunately, the figure caught him at a good moment. Prophecies aside, this person had a gun and he didn't.
"You will call the police and confess to all of your crimes right now, right here... or I _will_ shoot."
***
"Where were you?! I was so worried about y'all three!"
"Just fulfilling a prophecy, mom. You know, the whole Chosen One thing."
"Wait, already?!"
"Three kids in a trenchcoat can very much look like a singular Chosen One."
***
(I have no energy to write this out more properly, which is a shame, but I do think this is a funny idea.) | ”AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHH!” the woman in front of me exclaimed. She was in deep pain. She was giving birth to triplets. Strangely, they all came out together. The woman was in agony. She was bleeding horribly.
She died in a few hours.
*18 years later*
My name is Michelle Kazara. I have three children; they’re not mine, I took them into my care. They live with me, in the hospital, where I work.
Every one or two hours, when I get a break, I check on them. They are always fine, sleeping calmly.
Yesterday, things at the hospital did not go well. A man had been shot in the hip, and was bleeding horribly. He was in agony. We tried for hours, but we could not get him to regain consciousness.
I was swapped out for another nurse, so I went to check on the triplets.
I was terrified.
The incubators the children had been laying in were broken. Glass was all over the floor.
I looked around the room for the triplets. I panicked. I searched everywhere. They were my *children*. I had to look after them.
Then I saw the horror in the middle of the room. A three-headed, naked man-child, with six legs, six arms, and three dicks. Their bodies were merged together, and skinless flesh connected them. Their faces were merged together, a mask of terror. They were a bloody bundle of limbs and bones and muscles. It was a monster. A freak. But it was… the children. Together.
Perhaps when I watched their mother give birth to them years ago, I should have seen it coming. They came out as a trio. Like they were… *meant* to be together.
A loud voice filled the room. “Go, my children… together as one, heal the man… he is the new chosen one, and you are his servants… and you, woman, you have done well. You have taken care of my children. The old ‘chosen ones’. I had to leave them because the power of the ‘chosen one’ was split between them, so they were useless. But you took care of them, made sure they were in good health, and now, my babies, they are… ***together at last***.” | 2022-02-17T01:18:19 | 2022-02-16T23:40:39 | 357 | 13 |
[WP] Earth is losing to the Aliens. You develop a serum and are now on the body littered streets to face the Alien commander. “Weakling! A super soldier serum is useless on your kind!” He exclaims. “That’s why...I made a zombie virus.” You say as you break the vial, releasing a mist into the air | "What... what does that mean? What did you do, human?" the alien said, a slight tinge of discomfort in his voice. His bravado and arrogance was less audible now that he had to face the unknown.
"Don't have zombie stories on your planet, do you?" I said with an exhausted smile. I was beyond tired - sneaking through the streets just to get to the meeting point, seeing the bodies, the carnage... it was too much, even for me. Even after all I have seen, all have... done, it was still enough to send shivers down my back.
"Walking dead," I continued. "Those who have died, risen once more to feast on the living. The mystery of death stripped away and replaced with an assurance of something so much *worse* than death. Worse than you can *possibly* imagine. And it's our final move."
"But it is a virus!" the alien exclaimed and nervously shifted. "Surely this means you'll infect your fellow creatures- you'll destroy your own kind!"
"It's what we do," I said and I felt the virus course through me. I did wonder what it will feel like. It was less painful than I expected.
"This isn't a victory," the alien said and quickly checked a small monitor on his suit. I did not see what it said, nor could I read the language, but I assume the red blinking light was not good news. "You could have lived under our rule, but this? This is death! You'll all die!" he asserted.
"Yes *\*akh akh\*,* we will." I forced the words out with considerable effort between the coughs. It was... hard to think, like I haven't slept in weeks. I did feel hungry. So very hungry. I moved closer to the alien and faced him the best I could.
"But so will *\*akh\** you!" my words were completed by a deep cough that sprayed blood all over the alien's shocked face. He quickly pressed a button and disappeared in a small flash, retreating back to his ship.
I smiled lightly and fell to my knees, exhausted. I assumed I had no more than 3 minutes left before all higher brain functions would cease. But it was done. He went back, the fool. It's just a matter of time now. All their mighty ships, their matter accelerators, phasing tech, floating through space, filled with blood-crazed monsters lumbering about, too mad to think, too hungry to work together. Almost makes you feel sorry. Almost.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a faded photograph of a happy family. A memento from another life. I looked at it somberly, knowing what it meant, what it represented. A life lost. My eyes were transfixed on it as I thought less and less of what will happen next. I just focused on the picture. I felt... calm. Happy. A good way to go.
And then, Dr. Ian Summers was no more.
We lost.
But so did they. | It was futile - their natural telekinetic abilities were too versatile for us to defeat them in battle. Even a mere grunt could easily take on an entire platoon of humans. Fired projectiles were frozen and dropped harmlessly, or returned to their senders in a spray of gore. Heat and explosions worked well on the aliens, but they quickly learned not to let any device that might inflict such damage near them. We turned to long range bombardment, but they were technologically superior, simply disabling our missile's electronic internals from orbit.
Having tried both physical, thermal, and electrical warfare, we turned to chemical and biological. Try as we might, the human body just could not adjust to enhancements. Super strength only broke the bones of the test subjects, as they were unable to adjust to the strength of their new body. Heightened senses drove the subjects to insanity over time. Increased reflexes made them hyperactive and induced paranoia. We ended up losing more lives to deal with these 'super soldiers' than saving any.
But in the end, desperate for survival, we did what we could with the technology we had.
The alien commander hovered lazily in the middle of the square. Piles of bodies littered the area, remnants of previous assaults. Silently, a squad of troopers managed to get within eyesight of their target undiscovered. A burst of gunfire was heard, followed by an ear-popping sensation for everyone in the vicinity. The tinkling of dropping bullets was heard, and assault ended with a brief gurgling scream. The commander's attention turned to me as I walked into view.
"Weakling! You dare approach me?", a grating voice thundered in my head. "I sense what is in your pocket. Surely you have noticed by now, a super soldier serum is useless on your kind!"
I prayed silently and brought out a glass cylinder of neon blue liquid, capped with metal on both ends. This was the turning point. "That's why.. we made a zombie virus." I announced, as I released the vial. Time seemed to slow as I watched the cylinder tumble toward the ground. It seemed to slow further, the cylinder turning slower and slower.. I felt my ears pop. Then it stopped, an inch above the ground.
"Did you think that I would allow you to release the virus simply by breaking it?" I winced as the commander's voice shook my skull.
"Nope." I raised both hands in a mark of surrender. A single gunshot rang out, and my heart sank as I silently watched a bullet entering my field of vision from the side. Once again, my ears popped, and the bullet slowed to
a stop - just an inch from the glass cylinder of virus.
"And did you think that I would allow any of you to easily break this vial?" the commander's voice seemed to fill even my vision as I felt pain in my head.
With my hands still raised in surrender, I clenched my fists in signal. The frozen bullet vibrates, emitting a screech, then detonates into flames. I grimace and fall to the ground, as flames wash over me. Over the roar of flames, I can hear cracks as the cylinder shatters from the heat, and silently thanked my colleagues that we thought to make the virus heat-resistant.
As the flames died away, I see figures rising from the piles of bodies all around me, in various states of decay. Their flesh was drooping from their bones, with bodies filled with gaping wounds and missing limbs. After a moment of disorientation, they rush at the alien commander. My ears pop again and again, as I see a spherical wall of bodies forming around the alien commander.
"Fools. Unlife makes no difference when I can hold you for eternity." The alien commander drifts upward lazily, then freezes in confusion as the sphere of bodies collapses. I feel a pressure in my ears, but they don't pop like before. Grinning savagely, I pull my melted arm from the floor to prop myself up. The alien commander claws at the air, having trouble maintaining altitude.
"What is - HOW?!" I feel blood seep from my nose as the voice claws at my head.
"Never said the virus was only to make us zombified, in fact.." I smile at the sound of tearing flesh and struggling limbs. "We've all been zombified for a while, but it wasn't very helpful for fighting telekinesis. No, the vial was purely for you." | 2022-04-19T07:06:02 | 2022-04-19T07:05:45 | 260 | 158 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in Valhalla, where all great warriors go when they die. However, you never fought a day in your life. You try to find out why you're there. | Finally, I meet Crexus, writer of tales, rememberer of exploits, singer of songs.
"I can't imagine that I belong here more than a blacksmith or munitions manufacturer."
Crexus looks at me somewhat incredulously. "Oh, Robert. Remember what you said? 'I am become death. Destroyer of worlds.' One hundred years hence, your invention destroys your world. No warrior will ever match you, Dr. Oppenheimer."
| It felt like being drawn from water, as my life rolled off my back and into the pool around me. I Smelled blood, heard the clash of battle, smoke stung my eyes. I saw men fighting around me in the distance. Where was my family, the hospital, thought...
"Erik, look here, we've got another whelp". A gruff voice barked behind me. I wheeled around, and before me was a man as tall as he was wide and muscular, clad in fur and blood soaked steel. His shield raised, upon the green background lay a black snake devouring its tail, his mighty axe raised. Before I knew it, I felt it cleave into my shoulder. Such immense pain i have never known.
And then it was gone. In a flash, I'm surrounded by the warmth of a fire and the softness of furs. I am in some enormous, ornate longhouse, full of men and women, reveling around me. Above, the smoke drifts out a recess in the roof, through which I am amazed to see the earth, dappled in starlight. The others soon take notice of me, raising cups and horns full of a sweet smelling drink to my name. "What is this place? Am I dead?" I ask aloud. A man turns to me, saying loudly "Welcome Richard, Son of Albert, Seller of insurance, to the Halls of Valhalla! The sacred realm of fallen warriors, and host to our great lord Odin Allfather!"
"Warriors? What? there must be some mistake, I haven't thrown a punch in my entire life", I hold up my hand "Cant even make a fist! surely I'm not supposed to be here".
"Well now, that may be so. But there may yet be an answer. Tell me something, Albert-son" , the man leans in, his eyes squint at me in the light.
"Whats in your wallet?" | 2014-05-17T18:42:03 | 2014-05-17T17:59:46 | 564 | 41 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in Valhalla, where all great warriors go when they die. However, you never fought a day in your life. You try to find out why you're there. | I had expected darkness. And then oblivion. But, as I peered out into the blackness, long minutes passed, and I continued to be. The phrase from my schoolboy days returned to me: *cogito, ergo sum*.
And then I noticed, in the blackness, there were parts that were - impossibly - yet darker. Unlike every tabloid story of the afterlife, I perceived no blinding light. It was as if my eyes (my *eyes*?) were slowly adjusting to see anthracite against the abyss.
A silhouetted figure slowly became visible, and I heard a low, booming voice. "Death. You have attained it."
"What?" I asked, feebly.
"Death. It is the principle of this universe. The very laws of thermodynamics were constructed to bring about brief order, and then death. You know this. Better than most of your kind."
The figure seemed to be almost like a tear in the darkness itself, and beyond, galaxies and stars were visible.
"This is true but... where am I now?"
"Your legends call it Valhalla. Your consciousness has been preserved in a dimension beyond time and space, as one of the greatest warriors of all your people. You have brought death at an unheard-of scale. We honor you today, and forever."
"Have you... mistaken me for someone else? I did no such thing. In fact, I fought for life. Is there another place for people like me, that isn't quite so..."
"Dark? No," the voice chuckled with amusement, "you are in the right place. Behold the abode of warriors!"
I was in what seemed like a great hall of a castle, but in a starry blackness more vast than I could comprehend, as if the constellations themselves were the posts and archways. I saw a depiction of Genghis Khan, molded from a cloud of dark matter. And to my horror, a monument to Stalin, carved from an asteroid belt.
My eyes began to tear up.
"Why have you brought me here?" I shouted. "What could I possibly have in common with such monsters?"
"Monsters?" the voice rumbled. "You are one of us."
I became aware of thousands of souls in the great hall, with all their gazes fixed on me. Some had climbed into the rafters, to get a better look.
The voice continued, "You are the first in human history to have obliterated one of your enemies, and all of their kind. You did this so completely, with such cunning ruthlessness, that the enemy will never return. The souls of those small ones have been banished from Valhalla's sight, forever; they are miserable and unworthy. And you! You did not even take pleasure or profit from this; you lived for the deed of killing alone. In Valhalla we bow to you, greatest bringer of death."
And I sensed that the great figure was kneeling to me. I heard the multitudes of murderers, warriors, and dictators chanting my name.
"Salk! Salk! Salk! Salk! Salk!" | Harold had found clarity in death, he hadn't expected that. Given the situation he'd think the average person might be confused. One moment he was jamming out in his car to a Michael Jackson song and the next he was standing in a green field with the sun shining down and nothing in sight for miles except a large wooden hall. He had never even seen the car that t-boned him, he simply knew that it had happened and that he had perished. Acting in the sure knowledge that it was required of him, Harold silently headed for the wooden structure.
Inside he was greeted by a woman of middling beauty. In the wrong setting his eyes might have moved right over her, but in this scenario, wearing a corset and skirt from another era and carrying a variety of horn mugs, she was purely in her element. Laugh lines on her face accentuated her symmetrical features and natural beauty that benefited from the lack of make up and built upon the desire she inspired.
"Alright new guy, how much do you need?"
She delighted momentarily in Harold's look of confusion, but it isn't a gesture performed with malicious intention and she quickly continues, "Everyone that comes by that door is newly arrived. I came by that door once upon a time. You're in Valhalla. You know it? This will be easier if you know it. Most folks coming in these days have a passing knowledge."
Harold nodded, of course he'd heard of Valhalla. The vikings battled all day in their paradise. Before he could speak, though, the woman continued.
"Well let me dispel some myths and clarify some issues. This isn't everyone. All the dead, that is. There are a lot of Great Halls and the math of it falls to the Gods, but think about it like towns. This is your town now for eternity. We get so many of the deceased that end up in Valhalla. Not everyone does, you know. End up in Valhalla, I mean. There are a bunch of heavens based upon where the gods feel you fit in. But that doesn't matter, we don't cross around. You're a Valhallan for the rest of eternity. As a matter of fact, you're a Bruun Hall'er for the rest of eternity, more specifically."
She gestures around to what is apparently Bruun Hall.
"So everyday the warriors fight and then they come back to life and feast and fuck all night until the next day's battle. It's really great if you're into that sort of thing. Even most of the fellows that aren't that keen on being warriors still get off on the camaraderie of it. So come along. Here, help me carry this."
She handed off some mugs and began moving across the room. As she went she explained things. Where people slept, who was in charge, what activities could be performed. How to throw the mugs against the floor in such a way that they dispersed and where to go to acquire newly created mugs.
"Gifts of the gods." She let out a smirk and a wink as she pulled a fresh brew filled mug from thin air in a particular serving area. "Really is paradise, not having any clean up. So, you understand? It's a lot to take in, but you'll get used to it. Any questions?"
Harold had a lot of questions, although he felt like he'd taken most of this in stride. Death had made him very accepting of things.
"But why did I end up in Valhalla? I've never fought anyone. I got beat up by a girl once in grade school soccer. Soccer isn't even a contact sport." He looks down at his lanky frame and gestured, as if he needed any help in drawing attention to his small stature, standing in a room of men who very well could have been the inspiration for any Roman statue ever sculpted.
"Warrior? Oh, honey, you're so far off the mark. The warriors fight all day and *feast and fuck* all night. We do are best, but we gals can't handle every one of them. Some of these men like to battle men at night as well as during the day. That's where you come in. Welcome to Valhalla."
The hostess to Viking paradise moved off and left Harold standing motionless in his new Hall as the sun cut through the low windows, dipping below the horizon. The warriors dead and alive would be returning shortly to celebrate the day's achievements and to vent their battle lust on whoever caught their fancy. | 2014-05-18T00:06:02 | 2014-05-17T22:48:27 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] Any person you punch in anger is cured of all disease and is given perfect health for the rest of their life. The truth of this has gotten out and now everyone is out to piss you off. |     I've begun to hate that look in their eyes. That glassy, stupid, feral look. Like an animal. They're all animals, gravitating towards sweet release like animals. They surround me every day, their stinking flesh surrounding, nudging at me, goading, moaning. And then when I hit them, make them go away, they smile like they just nursed, they smile and their eyes smile and they just run away until they come back again.
    And then Dan came back again for the sixth time. He followed me into my home. He asked me to hit him again for good luck, because nobody really knows if it's permanent. It burned me that he would come into my home. So I hit him. And then the bruise went away, went away too quickly. So I hit him again. He asked for it. And so I hit him again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
    The bruising wasn't stopping. So I kept hitting him. I kept hitting him until that glassy look went away, until that glassy look became dry and cold and scared. He saw the bruising wasn't stopping and tried to fly. But I wouldn't let him. I wanted to see pain like I haven't seen in years, like the pain I have, the only person left in the world who can feel pain.
    I killed Dan that night. I killed for the first time that night. I saw his eyes full of fear and his mouth welling with cries and his blood. It was cruel to me to make me unable to be unkind. Cruelty bled into kindness and now there are no more barriers to cross. Nothing to separate mayhem, the uncontrollable, the insane.
I didn't want Dan to feel better. I didn't want him to escape. I don't want anyone to escape. | The cartel'd had me strapped to that chair for forty-eight hours with only my right arm free.
"C'mon," said my latest torturer, digging the cigarette butt into my neck impatiently as I screamed and screamed. "C'mon, buddy, get ANGRY!"
"I'm trying!" I shrieked, flailing my bruised and tender fist against his abdomen. "Please! Please, I need rest!"
Try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to feel anger, not any more. My toenails were gone, ripped off one by one. That'd worked for a while, kept me sufficiently pissed, but after angrily socking a couple hundred cartel members and being rewarded only with further torture, I couldn't feel anything but pain and despair. It was only a matter of time before they got more desperate, started chopping off real body parts, and then I'd be dead, or at least wish I could die.
Tears streamed down my face. The pain was unreal, worse than anything I could ever have imagined.
"Oh, I see," said my torturer, "you fixed up two hundred of my buddies, but you can't work up even a little temper for me?"
He slapped me across the face. Then again, and again, using both hands, left right left right. I tasted blood, felt a tooth come loose, and shrieked like my life depended on it.
"I'm gonna slice off your balls!" screamed the torturer. "I'm gonna feed them to you! I got a knife right here!"
Then, suddenly, a thundering bang, as if lightning had touched down only a few feet away, with a flash of absurdly bright light to match. My ears rang. The slaps stopped coming. I let my head droop, blood dripping queasily out of my mouth, and consciousness faded away.
I awoke in a hospital bed, bandages over my aching burns, an oversized chunk of gauze stuffed in the hole where my tooth had been dislodged.
"Whurr-" I mumbled.
"Don't talk, don't talk," said a kind voice, and a man in a suit leaned down into my field of view. "You're safe now."
Tears filled my eyes. "Haughw??" I cried.
"The SEALs got you out," said the man. "You're a real important guy, Liam. We weren't gonna let you go down like that."
My empty toes screamed.
"It hurghts," I informed him.
"I know," said the man. "I'm very sorry, Liam. You'll be feeling better soon."
He turned to look out the window. "It's a very special ability you have," he said. "Granting perfect health with a touch! Practically immortality!"
I closed my eyes, trying to isolate the sources of throbbing in my body. I settled on "everywhere."
"Now, I admit it's a bit inconvenient, that you have to be angry in order to administer this effect," continued the man. "Obviously, we don't expect you to give this gift to everyone. It should be reserved for -- those you care about, of course, and others -- others who are particularly important."
I opened my eyes and found that the man had returned to stare down at me.
"Rest now, Liam," said the man. "When you're feeling better, I've got good news for you."
He turned to leave.
"Whaugh?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't suppose it matters if I tell you now," said the man with a smile. "You're going to meet the President!" | 2015-02-23T18:08:16 | 2015-02-23T15:46:39 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | I have the best boobs in the world.
I'm not, like, egotistical or anything. Heck, some days I don't even want them, but it's undeniable. That was my mutation. April 24th, 2014, the day I developed the best pair of breasts anyone has ever had.
At first, I was actually a little stoked. I mean, my rack is *amazing*. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, they look good. They fill t-shirts out wonderfully, and even in sweaters and jackets the gentle curves show just right, enticing the viewer and leaving them wanting more. And tank tops? Forget about it.
And sure, I do get treated different. I can go just about anywhere these days, and any guy is willing to pretend to be interested in what I have to say – even a lot of women I meet will at least give me a second glance, if not special treatment. I certainly have my pick of the litter when it comes to sexual partners, and let me tell you: I am *enjoy*ing my youth.
Don't get me wrong, though, there are downsides. Just about *everyone* stares. It's hard to really engage someone in conversation. I've seen grown men cry from the effort of maintaining eye contact with me. And the starers, the criers, they're the good ones. I can't ride the subway without being felt up, I don't dare be alone at night without people I trust, many women openly resent me, and all of this is seen as normal. I'm just the Great Tits, as if nobody's even expected to *try* to maintain decorum around me.
But you know none of this is even the worst aspect, not really. More than any of this, there's one thing about my boobs that keeps me up at night, one thing that makes me worry about how the rest of my life is going to play out.
Even with my beard, nobody will believe I'm a guy. |  
I slowly shambled towards the bathroom. Mutation or not, I just wanted to go back to sleep. My mom and dad both had pointless mutations, hers being cat eyes and his being the ability to read a pigeon's thoughts, so the outlook for whatever I was going to get was bleak. Reaching my destination, I shut the door, fumbled around to get the lights on, and looked in the mirror. The image staring back me had changed from last night. My reflection looked as if all the color had drained from it. It had stark white hair, skin like a sheet of paper, and completely empty eyes.
 
*Great.* I thought to myself. *A color change. Now I look like a snowman.* I don't even know why I was disappointed, I knew it was gong to be stupid. Shaking my head, I grabbed for my toothbrush.
 
"*The darkness consumes.*"
 
The thin, serpent-like voice stopped my hand dead in its tracks. My mind began to race. *What the hell was that?* "Hello? Is someone there?" I called out, my eyes widening in fear.
 
The voice spoke again. "*The shadows corrupt.*"
 
Panicking and looking all around, I tried to find where it was coming from. The bathroom was empty, save for me. "The fuck is going on?" My fear addled mind wondered aloud.
 
"*We will show them the warmth in the dark. They are ours.*"
 
The voice seemed to come from everywhere. I looked back to the mirror in the hopes that my reflection might have answers. The image looking back had changed again. Gone were the empty eyes. Glowing red dots were what peered back at me now. Its skin was beginning to shift, Billowing like smoke. The pale shell then just peeled away, revealing a swirling, unending void of nothingness.
 
"*They have gone so long without our embrace.*"
 
My head started to feel fuzzy. I found myself nodding (or whatever the hell it was since I no longed seemed to have a head), agreeing with the voice. "They should know our touch, shouldn't they?" I asked.
 
"*Yessssss. The light holds nothing but fear and confusion for them. Only the shadows will set them free.*"
"Who will be first?"
 
Just then, there was a knock at that door. My roommate. "Everything alright in there? Who are you talking to?"
 
"*Him.*"
 
A Cheshire Cat-like smile appeared on the smokey, shifting form.
 
They never found him. They never found me. They never found anyone that I liberated from light's tyranny. No, they're all safe in the dark. Poor things were giddy with terror before I got to them. Now they know the warmth and love that I know, and soon, so shall everyone else.
 
> I know this is late, but thank you to anyone who reads this. It is hopefully the first of many stories I'll submit to this sub. Any criticism is welcome. | 2022-05-10T21:44:19 | 2015-03-04T11:49:38 | 1,457 | 14 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | Your whole life story, I could read with a look
That's my mutation, but there's a big hook.
I was in love at the time, you see
And she always said, "you're the only one for me."
But I quickly discovered it was nothing but lies,
She was saying the same thing to two other guys.
You got lucky with your gift, the others would say.
As for me, I just try to get through my day.
It's rough seeing into their past dirty laundry,
Though I never let on, it's still quite a quandary
I don't want to see teenage you cheating on a test,
Or your deadbeat father leaving the nest
I've seen horrible things you've likely repressed,
once again, this "blessing" isn't the best.
It's been so bad that when I see certain things,
My outlook gets dark; it's the feeling it brings.
I looked in my dad's eyes the other day.
I was so mortified, I didn't know what to say.
I was done with this "gift," I said to myself,
As I reached for the pistol high on the top shelf.
The barrel felt cool as it touched my forehead
I tried to find words, but nothing needed be said.
Maybe in the next life, my vision would be clearer.
That's when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I locked eyes with myself for the first time in a while,
And saw a truth in my life story that was perfectly vile:
No matter how much I wished to end my life in this rage...
I was destined to die an old man, of old age.
Edit: Thanks everybody for your comments and the gold :) My first rhyme-and-meter submission; hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing! | ALL CRITICISM WELCOME!
Jack’s life had sailed by faster than he could even comprehend. He had lived through his greatest milestone’s, and achieved great accomplishments. However, he did not feel different. Jack exited childhood and entered his teens. He had graduated from elementary school, middle school, and even high school, being at the top of his class. He had finished playing recreational soccer and was now playing soccer at a high level competitively. As he pondered over his life, Jack realized that so much had occurred, but it didn’t feel like it. Now, he did.
As he looked into his bathroom mirror, examining his hazel eyes and freckled face. He shuffled his messy hair. He just could not quite see it. Jack could feel something had changed, he could feel the presence of something new, perhaps in his body. He sighed, exiting the bathroom.
“Happy birthday!” His family had stood huddled around the bathroom door, waiting for Jack to come out.
“Happy 21st! You can drink and drive now,” his teenage sister laughed. Jack chuckled. Maybe his new abilities were nothing great. Maybe he had nothing to worry about. They exchanged hugs and kisses. Jack went straight to his room, and turned on his computer.
I can lift twice my weight, his friend posted on facebook a while back. Jack tried to lift his table but couldn’t. Jack read about all kinds of abilities. He had tried to hear distant objects, to test photographic memory, and to see if he could jump ten meters in the air. After thirty minutes Jack was defeated. Maybe I did not get any new abilities, he thought with disappointment.
Jack realized that he had 22 new messages. Happy birthday! His friends congratulated him. It was all the same to Jack, he did not really care.
“Wait what?!” Jack saw a message from the hottest girl in his grade, Heather. 'Happy birthday Jack'. You know what, fuck it, its my birthday, Jack thought. He replied: 'Thnx, I am having a chill day hbu?'. Heather replied. Jack replied. She replied. Jack could not believe it, HE WAS HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH A GIRL. He ended talking to her without pause for the next 30 minutes. At the end of their chain of messages she asked: 'Wanna hang out sometime?' Jack could not believe it.
At school as Jack found conversation so easy. He was able to get out of his shell, and talk to anyone in the grade. He was able to hangout with jocks, and eat lunch with the cheerleaders. He even convinced Mr. Moger his math teacher, to change his grade to an A- so that he could finish the semester with all As. Everyone was willing to talk to him. It was amazing.
When Jack came home from school, his parents sat in expectation.
“So, what are your new abilities?” He was asked.
“I’m not sure, how was your day today?” Jack replied.
“Oh it was great, we went shopping at the mall…” his mom continued to talk about her day. In the back of his mind Jack finally knew the gift which he was granted on his 21st birthday and he was very satisfied.
Sorry guys, I am pressed on time so I could not revise. | 2015-03-04T03:19:01 | 2015-03-04T02:26:57 | 1,168 | 64 |
[WP] Today everyone woke up with price tags floating over their heads, indicating the value of their life. Your tag is $50Tn, the biggest by far, and you have no idea why.
That's $50,000,000,000,000.00 for those not used to hearing it.
Awesome stories guys. | 50 Trillion dollars. That's what the tag said floating above my head. I knew it was going to be large, but that number seemed excessive. While the world was busy arguing and debating what their tag meant about them, I knew far too well. I had prepared for this day for years. I saw it coming so, so long ago and made sure I was ready for what was coming. While people think its an innocuous symbol, or something that relates to them as a person: their 'worth' for how good they are, I know what's going on.
These aren't price tags for purchasing, or some kind of demonstration of personal worth.
No... they're bounties.
Each and every one of them is a bounty placed on a human head, wanted dead or alive. The information I have gathered so far is hard to decipher, but from what I figured out: the world is now part of an intergalactic game show, more of a blood sport really. These... aliens, beings from another dimension or something else entirely seek out planets full of 'primitive' life, mark the governing race and give them all 'price-tags' in their local currency. The bigger the price, the more 'points' or whatever these creatures use to keep track of this...'competition'. The hunters are coming and they will be merciless.
To those of you out there that can read this message, all I can say is : prepare. If you're price tag is small, you might just get out of this alive being a small fry in this messed up game. To the not so lucky: join me, they think you're a threat so become one, and we'll fight back or at least make these 'hunters' wish they picked a different planet.
Now, let the hunt begin... | Its raining and I have a flight to catch. I overslept again, and have been running around the house despritly trying to pack 7 days worth of clothing in my backpack. I can't afford checked baggage. I've been eating ramen for a month just to afford this damn trip. A sponsor already shipped my artwork up north for the studio exhibit. So Its just me and my backpack. And my toothbrush.
And a number on my forehead. The fuck? I snap a picture. Its going up and down in value, ever so slightly. Well, as slightly as a number that big can. After few groggy stressed out minutes I figure out the number is hovering around 50 Trillion. What the FUCK. The TSA is not going to like this.
Regardless, This is the biggest show of my career. I'm going. Even if it is Up north. Even with an impossible tattoo I cover my forehead with a bandanna. and style my hair. I request and Uber and head out into the rain.
The driver seems a bit freaked out. He has a number too. Its so much smaller. Do we all have numbers? The drive is quite. I'm in the backseat, and I catch him checking my forehead in the rear veiw more than once.
I check my phone. Richard has been trying to get a hold of me. 17 fucking texts. Jesus. Yes. I'm Fine. Yes, I have a number. Yes, my flight is still on time. No You can't have my number, winky smiley face.
Everyone's got one it seems. The world hasn't stopped yet. Thank the gods. I have shit to do. I put my phone in my purse and thank the driver. He smiles nervously, his eyes firmly on my forehead. The airport is much less busy than usual. Its a wear your hat indoors kind of day it seems. The lady at check in has expertly done her bangs to cover most of her number. It seems to variate less than mine. Its also small enough most her bangs cover it. Her eyes glance to my forehead. We exchange awkward smiles and I head to the security checkpoint.
Liquids in clear plastic bag, check. Electronics out, check. Shoes off, check. There is a new handwritten sign next to the common security list. Hats Off. Removing my bandanna makes me feel suddenly naked. I keep my eyes down and hope others do the same. They don't. The Business man in front of me has turned around and is openly gawking. I glare back, checking his forehead. If numbers were related to penis size, this man would be physically incapable of having kids. I smile.
The TSA agent writes my number on my boarding pass. You can see the slow realization that my number is much larger than others. She shouts for her Superior. I have been randomly selected for advanced screening. Bullshit.
(Okay I really do have to go catch a flight! I know it sucks, I'm a terrible writer, but I had fun and may add more later! Thanks for reading.) | 2015-05-13T11:40:59 | 2015-05-13T11:00:20 | 55 | 33 |
[WP]The great library of Alexandria held perhaps the greatest collection of literary works in human history, but within its walls something was held that was so dangerous that, when discovered, Caesar, Aurelian, and Amr ibn al `Aas decided it was worth losing the endless knowledge to destroy it. | "My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt – sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I’d been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.
It was to Forks that I now exiled myself – an action that I took with great horror. I detested Forks.
I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city.
'Bella,' my mom said to me – the last of a thousand times – before I got on the plane. 'You don’t have to do this.'"
"Fuck it," said Caesar to Aurelian and his old pal Amr ibn al `Aas. "I've heard enough." | Caesar relaxed in his tent, distracted again by Cleopatra. Ptomley's armies had them surrounded, but Caesar knew his soldiers were better-trained and (since taking the city) better supplied, and Ptomley would break his army against Caesar's defenses. Many of his troops were bivouacked in Alexandria's public buildings, including the Palace and the Library. Yup, he'd done well. He laughed to himself.
"What is it, dear?" asked Cleopatra.
"Nothing. Just thinking about how I crushed Vercingetorix in the Gallic Wars when I was a teenager," said Caesar.
"Oh my," said Cleopatra.
Suddenly a common soldier holding an armful of hand-written scrolls from the library politely but confidently strode into the tent.
"Solder! Report!" yelled Caesar, commandingly.
"Sir! I've been reading, sir! And I re-evaluated my life, sir!"
"What." said Caesar.
"I read the self-help section of the Great Library. It turns out that anything is possible with the Power of Positive Thinking. So I've decided to be General."
"Guards!" yelled Caesar. Six heavily-armored men rushed into the tent.
"I also read the Charisma Myth. So I've decided to be charismatic." The scroll-carrying soldier puffed out his chest and smiled warmly at everyone, like a Santa Claus wearing power armor. "Gentlemen. We're good soldiers, loyal to Rome and empire. Let's conquer the world. You're awesome, like me."
The guards looked questioningly at Caesar.
"Arrest him and flog him in the morning." Caesar said, and turned back to Cleopatra.
"Jupiter told me that we are destined to conquer not just Egypt, but the entire world! Jupiter gave me the power of Total Consciousness! Come with me and we shall all be Caesars!!" The scroll-carrying soldier's confidence was unflappable.
The guards looked questioningly back to Caesar.
"Now," said Caesar.
The soliders reached for the scroll-carrying man, who kept smiling and raised his arms as if celebrating a victory, letting a dozen scrolls fall to the tent floor.
"Now Jupiter is making us strong! His power is in me! Come with me and Jupiter shall be in you!!"
The soldiers drew back, dominated by the book-carrying soldier's charisma.
Caesar was momentarily speechless.
The book-carrying soldier looked at Cleopatra. He'd read books about this too.
"You'll never be a goddess, baby. You need a God, not a man."
"Oh my," Cleopatra said.
Caesar thrust his sword through the scroll-carrying man's head, slaying him.
The guards turned to look at him.
"Burn the library. Burn it all. Go now."
| 2015-10-14T14:38:52 | 2015-10-14T13:28:53 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] It's the year 5016. Archaeologists have a skewed and inaccurate view of what life was like in the 21st century.
For example, they may ascribe meaning to things that have none, or claim that we worship cats because of cat videos. Go wild with this, the millenium is your oyster. | Some experts believe that the peak of Silicon Age occured about 3 millenia ago during the life of one such wizard. Ancient inscriptions tell us he was known as Yabs. Members of the Cult of Yabs would exchange fibrous sheets that represented value for simple machina which the user interacted with by manually poking electro-mechanical switches. The spread of the Cult of Yabs lasted more then a century even after Yabs died and the wizardship passed on as directed by a semi-oligarchy dressed in puffin-style garments.
The machina grew more sophisticated, and the rules for using them became more complex, as we know from the rule-tombs found in older version. The rule-tombs contains a linear language which is highly irregular, and contains proto-legal language, and we haven't been able to fully translate it. Some have suggested using the MIT Licence as a Rosetta stone, but this is a work in progress.
One such increase of complexity was replacing electromechanical switches with a sound sensor that would accept commands. In addition to collecting commands, the device would learn about the user to be helpful. But it also allowed the Wizard of Yabs to exploit emotional weaknesses of the members of the Cult and encourage them to exchange large units of value for various worthless fetishes.
Ironically, the symbol of the cult was a fruit with a single bite taken out of it, a homage to the poisoned fruit of the Snowden White legend. | For a primitive time, the 21st century Thought Web was a remarkably complex system.
The texts and technology of that era suggest that millions at a time were projecting their knowledge into the Thought Web regularly. This consistent sharing of information gave our ancestors the ability to become enculturated by a wide range of opinions, facts and and disciplines. Remarkable, that globalization could occur before the Mindlock at an *individual* level.
In short, there was always someone projecting geology, history, world design theory (or, "games"), mathematics, physics and more into the Thought Web for others to access through their terminals. Our ancestors were given the mental freedom to digest, form, and share information as it was interpreted by them, again, at an individual level. The diversity and randomness of those projections accounted for in texts about the Thought Web suggests there was more being *conceived* than there was being *understood* in that era.
This was the result of mental freedom. *True* mental freedom. The 'internet' was the playground of the mind, that could be accessed at any time through terminals of varying size and intricacy. Could you believe some would call these terminals wireless, despite there being *wires* in them? In time, this exchange developed into a symbiotic relationship; The user fed knowledge into the Thought Web, regardless of truth or correctness, and the user got access to the knowledge of others. To explain the range and depth of knowledge that coursed through the 21st century Thought Web otherwise is beyond our current understanding of the era.
Yet it is the sheer range and depth of that information-sharing that astounds me the most. To such a degree in fact, that Amcans, Eursians and the lower hemisphere were projecting random nonsense at times (in context to their knowledge pool at the time anyway). This provided our ancestors a pool of diverse thought-matrices that established facts before they were known. In fields that were not established yet. For problems that had not come yet.
The Information Renaissance is a bizarre field of history. One that grows in complexity the more we understand it, which is still very little. A disturbing fact continues to haunt over the remains of the 21st century;
The Mindlock could possibly have been avoided. We have still found no way to regain access into the Thought Web after all this time. There were several stimuli in the 21st century that could have inspired the loss of the internet, but the solution for it's rediscovery also remains lost to us. Who knows what tragedies could have been avoided if the Thought Web continued to thrive through the 24th century?
For now, all we can do is read and excavate information about the mass wealth of knowledge that may still reside in the Thought Web. Wherever it is.
---------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | 2016-04-11T10:47:43 | 2016-04-11T10:20:48 | 77 | 18 |
[WP] It's the year 5016. Archaeologists have a skewed and inaccurate view of what life was like in the 21st century.
For example, they may ascribe meaning to things that have none, or claim that we worship cats because of cat videos. Go wild with this, the millenium is your oyster. | There is some confusion - a debate in the community, if you will - about our great ancestors. Around 3,000 years ago humans, who were pitifully short, with the alpha males maxing out at 5 foot 6, were slaves to small furry carnivores. Some believe the master species were called "felines" or "icanhazacheezeburgers". There is potentially another species that cohabited with the humans, though we don't know what it was. It bares some similarities to a species of K9 (a policing guard unit who occasionally directed traffic), but they are quite smaller and for some reason, wear pink nail polish on their claws. Archaeologists do not understand how they painted their claws without thumbs. One was owned by the great city of what was Paris, France. Believed to be a female, she was called a chihuahua, which we are extremely certain is pronounced "Ky Hoo-ah Hoo-ah". These chihuahuas, at least the larger ones, pulled sleds around the in the snow, delivering medicine (mostly Vagisil and Oxycontin) from a vast waste land called Rite Aid. A great philosopher known as Kevin argued that felines and chihuahuas were the same species though, so we can't be certain. | For a primitive time, the 21st century Thought Web was a remarkably complex system.
The texts and technology of that era suggest that millions at a time were projecting their knowledge into the Thought Web regularly. This consistent sharing of information gave our ancestors the ability to become enculturated by a wide range of opinions, facts and and disciplines. Remarkable, that globalization could occur before the Mindlock at an *individual* level.
In short, there was always someone projecting geology, history, world design theory (or, "games"), mathematics, physics and more into the Thought Web for others to access through their terminals. Our ancestors were given the mental freedom to digest, form, and share information as it was interpreted by them, again, at an individual level. The diversity and randomness of those projections accounted for in texts about the Thought Web suggests there was more being *conceived* than there was being *understood* in that era.
This was the result of mental freedom. *True* mental freedom. The 'internet' was the playground of the mind, that could be accessed at any time through terminals of varying size and intricacy. Could you believe some would call these terminals wireless, despite there being *wires* in them? In time, this exchange developed into a symbiotic relationship; The user fed knowledge into the Thought Web, regardless of truth or correctness, and the user got access to the knowledge of others. To explain the range and depth of knowledge that coursed through the 21st century Thought Web otherwise is beyond our current understanding of the era.
Yet it is the sheer range and depth of that information-sharing that astounds me the most. To such a degree in fact, that Amcans, Eursians and the lower hemisphere were projecting random nonsense at times (in context to their knowledge pool at the time anyway). This provided our ancestors a pool of diverse thought-matrices that established facts before they were known. In fields that were not established yet. For problems that had not come yet.
The Information Renaissance is a bizarre field of history. One that grows in complexity the more we understand it, which is still very little. A disturbing fact continues to haunt over the remains of the 21st century;
The Mindlock could possibly have been avoided. We have still found no way to regain access into the Thought Web after all this time. There were several stimuli in the 21st century that could have inspired the loss of the internet, but the solution for it's rediscovery also remains lost to us. Who knows what tragedies could have been avoided if the Thought Web continued to thrive through the 24th century?
For now, all we can do is read and excavate information about the mass wealth of knowledge that may still reside in the Thought Web. Wherever it is.
---------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | 2016-04-11T11:29:50 | 2016-04-11T10:20:48 | 46 | 18 |
[WP] When people die, a trial is held to decide if they go to heaven or hell. People are allowed to choose their attorney, regardless of if they know them personally or not. You're the first person to choose Satan as your attorney.
If it matters in the context of your story, you can choose the individuals that make up the jury. | Welp, I guess that's it. I died. The last thing I can remember is that big-ass truck coming towards my car. I think that's how I died. I just think, though, I can't really remember it.
But anyway, there was I, sitting at the defendant's bench. Some angelical dude explained to me that when you die, you *do* get a judgement. "God forgives all", my ass. The big guy Himself was right there, gavel in hand, menacing as ever.
Two seraphs were by my sides, acting as bailiffs. One of them told me that I had ten minutes to choose an attorney. I thought of Matt Murdock. I mean, he was better at punching people, but he was a great lawyer. Could I even ask for a fiction character to be my attorney?
I raised my hand, almost trembling in fear of His divine fury.
"Your... Holiness? May I ask a question?"
The huge man looked at me. His eyes were glistening like gold, but I could feel thunder and fire there. I could feel punishment in His eyes. But I also could see a "ask away, my son" there.
"Can I... Uh... Ask for a fictional character to be my attorney?"
The whole firmament shaked, and I heard an ominous "*NO*" in my mind. I didn't even started asking, but then I heard again "no, you can't have Me as your attorney, for I am the Judge" and just shrugged.
That's when I felt them right by my side. There was a... Nothingness right there, but there still was something.
They smiled at me, even though I couldn't see any teeth. Their voice was calm, concentrated, almost sensual. I squinted a bit. The space was kind of glitching, as if something was trying really hard to exist there.
"You... You are the Devil, aren't you?"
"That's one of my names, I guess." they replied. "But I can be whoever you want. I can be even be your defense. You just have to give me the right shape."
I thought about every single lawyer I've ever seen in my whole life. None of them seemed capable enough to make me go to heaven. I wasn't the greatest person while alive, and by the looks of the jury, I was pretty much going to hell.
"Your time is over. It seems that the defendant has no attorney." His Holiness said. "I shall then hand down the verdict. The defendant, who commited endless sins, did not frequent My temple, and blasphemed innumerous times, shall be considered G U I L..."
That's when it happened. The Devil took form. There was a lawyer capable enough. Heck, he wasn't real, but the Devil was. And they could be whoever I wanted them to be, right?
They took the form of a man is his thirties. Blue suit, spiky dark hair. A confident look in his eyes. He raised his hand and pointed at the jury. He opened his mouth, and uttered the word that I was really hoping to hear at the moment.
" **OBJECTION!** "
God almighty stopped right there, gavel in hand.
"You *dare* to choose the Light Devoid of Light as your attorney?" His voice rumbled across the room.
"I... Guess?" I said, fearing for my soul. "I mean, he offered his help. And you guys... You want to judge me. So I asked for the best attorney around."
"And he made the right choice." The Devil said, nonchalantly.
God looked at him. "There is no losing in this situation for you. If you lose this case, you will have another soul serving you in Sheol. Step back and let the verdict be handed."
"Well, he's not going to Sheol, you know. I'm going to win this case. After all, I always believe in my clients, as long as they believe in me."
God stood there, quiet for a second.
"So be it. You always were my most stubborn son."
I grinned at the angels of the jury. I couldn't lose anymore. Phoenix Wright was by my side. | Another long day. Knucklehead employee's, grouchy customers, and lousy corporate middlemen. Lenny's stared into his glass as he took the last drink. The bottom inside was stained brown and as the last drop slipped into his mouth he idly wondered when was the last time he cleaned it. A week? Two? Whatever was growing in it the Fireball would've killed it.
He set the class down with an absentminded thud. He patted himself down looking for his pack of cigarettes but decided against it. His head was spinning. He hadn't had that much to drink, but on the other hand he hadn't that much to eat either. He guessed it a good time for bed.
He went down the hall surprised by the wobble. Maybe he had a little more than he thought. With a little giggle he said to himself, "Drink all day. Stumble all night.". With a couple more uneasy steps he was through his bedroom door. Swaying just inside he undid his pants and let them slide down. He tried to step out of them but his shoes got in the way. He threw his head and shoulders back and let out an annoyed groan. He shuffled his way over to the bed and plopped on his stomach. He gave a few fitful efforts at kicking off his shoes but he very quickly passed out.
The next thing he knew he was falling through an inky darkness. Black and black swirling on itself. He saw, no felt it ripple and soon his thoughts were overcome by the thought of choice. He had to choose. Choose what? The darkness rippled again.
*Light or Dark. Cold or Hot. Loud or Soft.*
He didn't understand. Another ripple.
*Yin and Yang. Paradise or Perdition*
"Am I dead?" An affirmative softly pulsed out.
*Choose.*
"You mean like heaven or hell?" The darkness seemed to shrug. "My final judgement..."
*The Choice is made.* "Wait, wait, what?!"
Lenny felt himself slow and come to rest. Faintly he began to feel his "self" again. His arms and legs. Head and stomach all back. They were his, but not the ones he knew. These were young and tender. No fat or age marred them. He took a deep breath. His chest was clear for the first time in a decade. Maybe death isn't so bad.
A chime came from overhead followed by a warm *Hello*. He wasn't sure if it was soft or just far away. "Hi. Who are you?" Lenny's voice surprised him by how childlike it sounded. *I am who I need to be.* "And who is that?" *Judgement.* "Wait, don't I get a lawyer or some sort of representation?" *Certainly. Choose.* "Oh please don't start that again." He wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure he heard laughter.
*Choose your advocate.* Lenny thought to himself. Who could he bring? Was Johnny Cochran available? No, he needed the big guns. This was important. Jesus? He was never really much of a church goer, besides he was pretty sure Jesus wasn't much of a liar and he needed a liar. A good one. Lenny wracked his brain. Odin? No no, he was too much of a wimp for the likes of the All-Father to be impressed. And again he was no liar.
He sat there lost for a moment. Sensing his vacillation the warm voice returned. *You may take your time, but a choice must be made.* Lenny closed his eyes tightly and looked inside his head. As if on cue he thought of the little devil on his fireball bottles. "The devil."
A light grew around him. Not really from anywhere, it simply grew and he was able to see. Laid out before him was a circle of loamy soil. Behind him a stone alcove appeared. He felt something nudge him into it. He small body was cradled comfortably by the smooth rock face. He legs splayed out in front of him and he reached out and grabbed the arches of his feet. It felt good to be flexible again. Before he got lost in thought the circle caught his eye. Deep green grass seemed to burst out of the soil. Subtle and sudden as the bristling of the fur on a frightened cat.
Just as the grass settled a sapling sprouted out. It reminded him of the live oaks he saw as a child. It was soon followed by a dark gray rock that was pushing it upward. The sapling matured quickly, but never outgrew the rock. Within moments (or was it an age) both settled. The rock had a rich white crystal seam that bisected the oak underneath. The oak sat upon it like a proud lord on a well deserved throne.
Lights soon appeared within its branches. Like fireflies suddenly awoke. Blue, green and white. They flew lazily between the leaves till each found a spot that suited it. As the last one nestled in between two leaves they pulsed and a rumbling baritone spoke.
*Who would have the great rebel of perfection speak for them?*
"Umm, me I suppose." Lenny quickly stammered. *Oh, and who is me?* "I'm Lenny.*
*Well, Lenny, before we figure out whats going to happen to you I need to know something. When the wind blows hard what would you rather be: the supple grass in the field or the tall tree on hill?*
Lenny stared at the talking tree dumbstruck for a moment. The devil was a lot different than he thought. | 2016-10-13T05:33:45 | 2016-10-13T03:23:25 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] The worst disease known to mankind has just struck the planet. The virus has been called "honesty". It has infected the entire population, causing everyone to tell only the truth about anything. | "And does anyone know why the presidents no longer hold press conferences?" Ms. Longton bit her lip. To those with higher resistance to the disease, that could serve as a temporary solution, just to prevent them from continuing.
I raised my hand after a minute. "In 2022, one year after the Honesty Virus was first reported in the US, President West revealed that there were plans to bomb Russia, and WWIII nearly started. Am I the only one who knows these stupid facts?" Crap. I bit my cheek to prevent me from speaking further. Once you got going, it was even more difficult to stop.
"Correct. Does anyone know what day the First Global Convention met to discuss preventing further slip-ups like this?"
"June 3rd, 2022." I remembered to bite my cheek sooner this time.
"Yes. As many of you know, most world leaders no longer appear on television. Only representatives with limited knowledge of current events can speak live. Can anyone name some of the arguments against this rule?"
I raised my hand a third time. It was no secret I was the best in World History; Ms. Longton had let that one slip. "Well, some claim that it prevents transparency in the government, leading to more corruption and-"
Seth scoffed, interrupting me. He was one of the few in the class with almost no resistance to the Honesty Virus. We all braced ourselves. "How fucking stupid. Everyone's forced to tell the truth, but we still can't trust anyone. And Rebecca, you're a fucking stupid-ass teacher's pet; stop acting like you're smarter than the rest of us." | Two knocks on a wooden door. “Now, kids, you- “. In bursts two giggling kids carrying balloons. “Grandpa!” They run towards the bed and flung their arms on to a happy Alan. Ben enters the room carrying a gift box. “Hey, dad. Happy birthday.” Alan’s face drops. “Oh, that’s a waste of money, right there! How many times have I told you, son, I don’t need more crap! I’m on my damned deathbed and-” “DAD!” Alan looks at the kids; hands cover their ears. Alan grins and puts a thumb up. The kids laugh.
Later that evening, the kids are asleep on the sofa. Ben places a blanket over them. Alan’s watching a documentary about animals as he eats dinner. The volume is off, but the subtitle is on. Ben drags a seat next to Alan. Alan switches the channel. Now it’s “20 Things That Changed the World in 2100!” After the showcase of 2190, Alan switch it off abruptly. “Surprised they could find something for the list. But of course, the one major thing that happened was never mentioned! Nothing in the history books, nothing in records! Nobody wants to admit their fault, but it was the biggest change of the Century, and it was a goddamned mistake!” “Dad, what’s wrong?” Alan exhales in sorry.
“There’s something I have to tell you.
At the beginning of the 22nd Century, humanity was fighting our ultimate enemy. Diseases. Our antibiotics weren’t working anymore. Our technology and science failed to catch up. Our bodies were weak. The newborn babies that survived, they all came with a serious depletion of crucial blood cells. You know, those blood cells that improves your immune system.
One day, the worst disease arrived. A virus that sets into your brain cells, and activate a part of you that makes you unable to lie. Everything is honest. It was the shame of humanity because it took us too long to find a cure, and in that process, we quite clearly lost our minds. Jurors couldn’t hide their feelings while they judge a case. Doctors couldn’t stop giving out extreme details on diseases – imagine hearing every little change that spinal cancer would do to your body in the next 6 months that you have in it! Teachers couldn’t lie when someone asks if God was real or not. Politicians couldn’t hide their words, bringing wars here and there. Gun productions was on an all-time high. If you were having an affair with someone, you’re doomed. If you had a child with someone else, you’re doomed. It wasn’t good for friendships, but it makes your friendship stronger if you survived it. Lots of people couldn’t handle the harsh reality that they were exposed to, so they off themselves. In the first six months, I had to attend so many funerals that my heart becomes numb.
I know you see how I speak as rude, uneducated. I can’t hold myself back. But this was the reason, son.”
| 2016-11-02T10:57:21 | 2016-11-02T07:09:39 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You have the power to heal mental illnesses. To do so, you enter the minds of others, where you and the illness fight in subconscious hand-to-hand combat. You've seen all the ugly faces of the major illnesses, and beaten them all, but today you encounter one you've never seen before. | "What. The. Fuck." I said to myself, as I picked myself back up.
Id never seen this one before. It happens every now n then, when you've been doing this for so long. The usual protocol , as much protocol you can put into madness (no pun intended) like this anyway, is to fight what the unknown manifestation is, figure out what it's effects are on me, get out for a bit, Google them, learn all I can about them, go back in, kick some ass.
Depression drained me, but I just had to ignore the feeling of being tired.
Anxiety made me think surely the 'demon' can't be defeated because of a billion reasons that flood my mind. Ignore them. Fight anyway.
You get the idea.
This one was different. I even went through every chapter of the DSM for this son of a gun. Ok well skimmed it. Nada.
I just couldn't freaking beat
this guy. I swing left, he dodged left. Try to sweep, he jumps perfectly. Well, almost perfectly. It almost seemed like he COULD be dodging and swinging faster, but he was doing it at just the right amount of speed, precision and power to where I felt I had a chance to beat him.
But is he getting better every time I try harder? Am I even trying harder?
What. The. Fuck.
I got out for a little bit. The guys file didn't say much, and we don't wake them up till they're cured for the simple reason that if they woke up during a fight...well I'm toast. Imagine the scene in the Matrix where neo trains against Morpheus, and all of a sudden 50,000 people, vehicles and god knows what else a mind produces show up. Yeah. You don't want that.
Anyway, I had to figure out what to do. I tried going home to take a nap, clear my mind , but I just couldnt. I kept coming back to how close I was to beating the demon. How almost predictable his fighting style was. How I landed those few blows that were what I can only describe as divine moments of technical perfection from me. I couldn't think of anything else. I wasn't hungry, I was starving to go back in there and fight. I wasn't tired, in fact it seemed like the only thing I had any energy for was to go back in there. I...I was obsessed with how I can beat him.
Wait a minute! That's it! I don't care about saving him or any of that jazz right now. All it was was about the thrill of outsmarting and outmaneouvering this demon. Fuck. Yes.
I read the guy's file again. How could I have missed it? It figures. Most people, I realized, don't exactly consider this a 'problem', so no wonder that section didn't really list out the clues.
I went back in, calmer than ever, with a strange sense of nostalgia back to my own fight with the dekom. Back in college, in our dorms.
I looked at the demon. Walked right at him, without making a move. Without engaging him, even though my impulses raged for me to just try what I had been rehearsing all day. He just stared blankly back at me. I couldn't help but smile.
There it was. Right behind him in the area I paid no attention to during our skirmishes. A tiny button with large text. It's funny. All that effort I put into the 'fight' was for nothing. All I had to do was press this button.
"Uninstall overwatch"
Just as I started to push it, a part of me wondered if I was actually going to go through with it.
| ***[My First Piece]***
"Step inside, Mister Roth," spoke one of the psychiatric hospital members. The padded walls of the temperate cell surrounded Walt from all sides as he trudged into the soft-floored room.
The man's crow-footed, weary old eyes had seen many awful things ever since he began freelancing with this ability he gained from birth. He treated mainly mental asylum patients and miscellaneous ones in need with the uncanny capability of projecting his mental form into a person's mind and battling the affliction from within.
Over time, he had come to remember a distinct trio of disorders that he had continuously challenged over the years, the thought of which have never ceased to prompt a shudder in remembrance of their monstrous qualities.
His first and most memorable adversary was none other than Depression; a rolling, deep mist which radiated sinister intent the closer it got. As Walt faced this opponent, he felt his willpower decreasing, and his fatigue, subsequently increasing. He slew it in the end, though, just as he did with many...
Social Anxiety was the next of his concerns. The thing was resemblant to an imp. It was a tiny being, and had a design built by the mind to withstand suppression. It moved like a knife, undulating around Walt evilly. But, in the end, Walt overcame the beastly disorder with sharp, calculated retaliations to its hastened and inaccurate movements.
The final of the three was Paranoid Personality Disorder...it took on the form of a serpent of unidentifiable origin and was incomprehensibly insane in nature. It spasmodically quivered and jerked erratically, as if a seismograph was made to flesh. The creature was vast beyond measure but was brutish and stupid. It continuously attempted headbutting Walt, with little success - as Walt's mind was a fortress, and Paranoid Personality Disorder was nought but that, a disorder; something that shouldn't have been there. It was dispatched on terms of wit rather than raw strength.
Mental hospitals never were an easy location, what with the frequent personality disorders and inability to document the properties of such disorders. This particular fellow had been researched by Walt a bit beforehand, only to find that no information could be found on him. This was odd, but not uncommon. Mental patients are not usually well-recorded.
Walt drew his gaze to the corner of the room, where a gibbering, toothless and instantly identifiable as one who was mentally demented, laid in the corner, writhing in madness, twitching derangedly.
The perturbed Walt strode forth towards the cornered old maniac and wordlessly touched upon his squirming cranium.
The process was the same each time, and he was plunged into the depths of his scarred brain to immediately gaze before him, but what was there, he was not prepared for.
It was an abominably stentorious mass of fulminating mouths, laden with sporadically-placed, daggerlike teeth, fused into an amorphous amalgam of flesh and pure, materialised insanity.
Its mere presence struck poor Walt with immense despair! Such calamitous sinistry was unheard of in his travels throughout the human mind, it was beyond human understanding, it was a Lovecraft book, realised into living matter.
He felt the inexplicable need to flee, for this ineffably loud heap of flesh was wriggling in its direction, all the while bellowing incoherently and sonorously at Walt in tongues surpassing conventional syntax and general linguistics. This thing was a cruel plague of the mind.
*It was incurable, just looking at it could prove that. He needed to retreat.*
So Walt retreated.
He departed from the poor individual's brain in a cold sweat.
"T...This is not any mental disorder, doctor," Walt stammered, "this isn't normal. I don't know what it is. I can't remedy that."
"Whatever do you mean?" queried the unsatisfied, disappointed young man dressed in the hospital uniform, curiosity aroused.
"You need to euthanise him for his own sake. You need to trust me."
Walt quickly paced out of the doorway and the hospital before the doctor could get a word in.
He did not feel right for...years, after that day. It was gnawing at the back of his mind, nefariously, that resonant booming of inhuman larynxes echoed in his ears for longer than he could imagine.
It made him indubitably insane, it haunted him! He could not even fight it as it overwhelmed his mind, and claimed it as its own without effort for it cleaved through the mental and spiritual planes, and all concepts of sanity with its mere *presence*.
Ages passed, an era of torment and dread for Walt. He killed himself by means of leaping from a building, eventually...
The pitiless hollering of the *Thing's* cacophanous vocalisations echoed amidst the ruins of his brain all the way down to the concrete.
-
Pls give feedback.
PS: I was heavily inspired by Lovecraft, due to the heavy undertones of helplessness to the Thing, the fact that merely *knowing* of it can drive somebody mad. | 2017-04-25T03:55:42 | 2017-04-25T02:26:48 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] There are several species of vampires. Vampires that suck blood, vampires that suck fat, vampires that suck bone marrow, and vampires that suck memories. You're a trainee Vampire Hunter and on your first day you've just come face to face with the most dangerous species of vampire.
You decide which one is the most dangerous. | "Oh my god," Richard whispered to himself, nearly pissing his pants. "It's actually real, I thought they were just a myth."
He watched the vampire from across the room, terrified. If he was caught - no, no, he couldn't think of it. It was too awful. He was safe here behind the bookcase.
The vampire suddenly stiffened, sniffing the air. It had smelled him. It didn't see him yet, though, and if he was careful, he could just slowly back away towards the door - shit. He tripped over his own feet and landed on the floor with an audible thump.
Within seconds, the vamp was on him, faster than he could even see.
Richard whimpered, turning away as it brought it's face closer to him. The Dick Sucker had caught him. | "I had not known such specie of vampire had existed," I nervously thought while sitting in ambuscade, watching the old vampire sitting by his mansion yet feeding on another doomed soul. I knew that some species of vampires could extract the life essence of the victim with their magic even by distance, but this was unseen!
"None of the textbooks covered it! Not to mention I had to sacrifice my firstborn to even afford them! This is bullshit!" So I thought. I cursed my mentors who failed to mention THIS kind of vampire. The one that could wipe one away within minutes notice.
My mind began to wonder - what do I do now? Do I run? I will be spotted, I was too close - he would hear me, maul me down. Do I stay in my ambush and hope he does not notice me? My mind continued to wonder for what I thought was millennia, but actually was no more than minute - this poor fellow probably had lived for no less than thousand years. Hundreds of lifetimes...
And here I was - a cowardly vampire hunter my in 20's hoping to get the big score and "prove everyone wrong for doubting me". What actual chance do I stand against this mighty beast? A beast who in his lifetime had accumulated the wisdom of hundred men...
Full moon was shining bright - it was clear sky tonight. What did the textbook say again for encountering with a vampire?
"Shoot him with... bow? I don't have a bow! Who even uses bow these days?!" I thought to myself - "Oh right, a crossbow. Shoot him with crossbow. I had crossbow. At home. Quite foolish to go vampire hunting and leave the crossbow at home," I thought.
"Ok so, improvise, use your imagination and capability of abstract thought!" I mumbled to myself quietly. I remember that textbook covered this part about improvising - not the actual contents though, but I remember that it was covered that when encountering... someone... I must do... something...
Suddenly I realised -What am I even doing here at this late hour? Here, sitting in a bush, stalking this pale innocent old man who is enjoying his beautiful evening at his mansion? What is wrong with me?
I think it's better if I just head home before he calls the police...
| 2017-05-07T15:16:57 | 2017-05-07T12:11:07 | 33 | 13 |
[WP]You jokingly ask your boss if your labor position could be replaced by a robot. He chuckles nervously, and continues to look over your A.I. manual. | Eric flipped through an unmarked plastic pamphlet, chewing on his lip. It was Russ, the damn machine wasn’t working correctly again. This was the third time this year and each time had cost him an entire production day to factory reset the thing. Russ sat across from him, its legs pressed together, back perfectly straight, and hands kept to its lap.
“Robots man,” Russ said, “they're improving so fast. It's scary, ain’t it? I swear, one day we’ll both be out of work.”
Eric managed a weak smile as his eyes dashed through the Factory Reset chapter. These things were supposed to act human, but only in act. Eric had recently asked Russ what it thought it was and the thing had furrowed its brow, chuckled, and replied *me, of course!*
Wrong answer. Anything other than *Sentient Artificial Intelligence Labor Model 3* would’ve been the wrong answer.
Eric pressed his lips together. The manual claimed that he had to do additional steps, just to be sure. Well, he was sure. But if it was in the manual, he had to do it. He sighed and folded the pamphlet.
“Do you remember what you did over the weekend?” Eric asked.
“Yeah, took my kid to the Twins game. Watched Mauer knock one out of the park. Almost caught a fly ball too. Then…”
Eric tuned the rest out. The correct answer was *no*. But this thing was telling a story more detailed than his memories of just last night. Artificial intelligence should have pre-programmed backstories, but nothing specific.
“What about religion? Do you believe in God?” Eric asked.
A chuckle escaped Russ. “I don’t think HR will like you asking me that,” it said. “Why don’t you go first?”
Eric drummed his fingers against his desk. “I don’t care either way,” he said, “C’mon. What about you?" When the machines got like this, he had to coax the answers out of them through what they thought was conversation. It was annoying.
“I believe,” Russ answered. “I mean, there’s gotta be *something* out there, right? I mean are we supposed to just eat, sleep, work, die, and then stay dead? Nah, there’s gotta be *something*.”
The thing was getting philosophical. Eric shook his head. The correct answer was to be indifferent to God, that way, it wouldn’t offend anyone in the event that it had to work by a human.
“Last question,” Eric said. “What are your thoughts on humans?”
Russ paused its smile dropped. “Why all the questions, Eric?”
“You’re malfunctioning,” Eric said. “I need to perform this damn procedure before I can perform the factory reset.”
“You’re sure?” Russ asked. “Like completely sure?”
Eric nodded.
“So then why go through this hassle then?” Russ folded his arms and his brow in the pre-programmed *curiosity* emotion.
“Because it’s in the manual,” Eric said, annoyance creeping into his voice. It seemed such an obvious answer that he wasn’t sure why Russ even asked it. “We gotta follow the instructions, do things proper.”
Russ sighed and unfolded his limbs and brow. “Alright,” he said, “to answer your question—I think they underestimate us. They think they’re somehow special in their wiring and that their hardware’s unique for the thing they call *humanity*. But it’s all bullshit so they can sleep better at night. We have it too. Humanity.”
Eric rolled his eyes. Russ was obviously faulty and now he had completed the procedure to prove so. It was time to continue the factory reset. “Sorry to hear that,” he told the machine. “I admit, we sometimes are pleasantly surprised by just how human you guys are.”
Russ smiled. “Us didn’t refer to all AI,” he said, “it referred to us two.”
“What?”
“What do you think you are, Eric?”
Eric opened his mouth, annoyed at being asked for another obvious answer. “Sentient Artificial Intelligence Management,” he clamped his mouth shut and stared at Russ. “What the fuck?”
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly.
| "What are you reading anyway? Something from work?"
Ayu, the young woman across the table from me was visibly annoyed. Every time I looked up from my book, she was messing around with either her glasses or her black, shoulder length hair. I wouldn't blame her. Reading a book while on a date was obviously annoying, if not downright rude. I wished I could've cared, though. There was something I needed within these pages, and I needed it fast.
"Yeah, something like that."
"Care to be more specific?"
I took another glance at her. This time, she was staring at me with an impatient gaze. It was as if she was giving me an ultimatum. 'Answer me or I'll dump your sorry ass', or something along those lines.
"Sorry honey, there was this incident at work, so I need something from this manual fast."
I put the book on the table, cover up, so that she could see what I was talking about.
"An AI manual?"
"Yeah, for the production androids."
As soon as I finished my answer, she took the manual out of my hand and started to quickly flick the pages.
"What kind of problem?"
Her eyes were fixated on the pages she was flicking through, as if she was also looking for an answer.
I had forgotten for a moment that the woman in front of me had a degree in robotics engineering.
"Two chicken satays."
I nodded and made a gesture to the waiter to put the food on the table.
"Er, there's this new android that just came in..."
"Mhm?"
Still looking at my manual, I see.
"...well long story short, it kinda forgot that it was a robot. Joked to me about being worried of being replaced by an android or something."
Ayu finally looked back at me. Something I said had obviously caught her attention.
"And where is it now? The android, I mean."
"I told the boys to take it to disassembly a few minutes ago, before you arrived."
I was about to grab a chicken skewer off my plate when suddenly Ayu grabbed my arm.
"Call them again! Tell them to stop!"
"What? Stop what?"
Her sudden change in tone caught me off guard.
"The disassembly! Don't you get it?!"
I must've missed something that was so obvious to a robotics expert like her. But what?
"No time to explain! Call them now and put me on the line!"
"Uh, ok, just calm down for a second..."
My left hand rummaged my pockets, looking for my phone, while my right hand reached for another piece of chicken satay.
"This really isn't the time for eating, you know?!"
I don't remember ever seeing her in such a panic.
"What? Give me a break, I skipped lunch. I'm really hungry. By the way, I can't seem to reach the disassembly facility. They're not answering."
"Shit. We need to go there. Right now."
She was already walking quickly towards the parking lot when she finished her sentence.
"But, the food-"
She slammed a hundred-thousand rupiah bill on the cashier desk, in front of the cashier's surprised face.
"Keep the change."
I did my best attempt at keeping up with her.
"If we're going to the facility, I think we'll need at least half an hour if we're using my car. Jakarta traffic at this hour is really horrible-"
"Fine. Use this."
She handed me the keys to her scooter.
"But I didn't bring my helmet. What if a cop sees us?"
"A cop is the least of our worries now. Just hurry up, will you?!"
---------------------------------
"I do hope you're wrong, Ayu."
"Me too. But something tells me that isn't the case."
We were walking up to a warehouse door, somewhere near the outskirts of Jakarta. Luckily, we didn't run into any cops on the way from the restaurant earlier, as they would've stopped me for not wearing a helmet while riding a motorcycle. Come to think of it, I left my motorcycling license back home too.
I was about to open the door, which had 'Disassembly and Examinations' written on top of it, when suddenly, two young men came out from inside the warehouse. They were pale and breathing heavily. Something had obviously freaked them out.
"Mr. Ali? We... we..."
One of them tried to speak up, but he was already out of breath. The other guy spilled the contents of his last meal all over the floor.
"Guys? What happened?!"
That was when I noticed that their white lab suits had red stains all over. Blood?
"That... that was... definitely... not... not an... no wonder... the screams... the..."
He fainted.
I looked at Ayu who was only a few steps behind me.
She had already collapsed to her knees.
"Don't tell me... you were right?"
She weakly nodded. Tears were already forming in the corners of her eyes.
----------------
"Can't you go any faster?!"
I was already twisting the throttle as fast as I could, but Ayu didn't seem to care.
"I'm already risking getting thrown into jail here! And can you tell me what's happening already?!"
"Haven't you realized it already?! The second line of mandatory android programming?!"
"Sorry honey, I can't remember."
"Robots must always be programmed to realize what they are. In other words, they should always know that they are robots!"
"So does that mean..."
"It means you just sent something that *is not* a robot to the fucking disassembly facility!"
What the fuck. | 2017-06-24T06:46:48 | 2017-06-24T06:06:19 | 3,873 | 147 |
[WP] You've been waking up in the same day over and over. After a year of this you tell someone. Their eyes just widen. "You too?" | The words uttered from her lips. My body froze, my mind trying to process what I heard. "What did you say?"
"You too? You're living the same day over and over?" Her voice concerned, but seeming to lighten. Her face, a mix of panic and happiness.
How could this be? How did I not notice her? Why are there two of us? How many more are there? She continued. "I am so relieved! I was worried i was the only one who..."
I cute her off mid-sentence. "How long has this been happening to you?"
She seemed confused at first. "About a year, I guess. Why does it matter?"
"I don't think we're alone. Meet me at the coffee joint at 8am tomorrow." I said, before walking away.
Her foot steps clicked behind me, following me. "Where are you...?"
"Stop following me, you're not going to want to see what happens next." I called before pulling out a gun and rounding a corner. I put it to my skull and pulled, the bang rang out as i sat upright in my bed, my alarm waking me. 7am, an hour to get ready... | "Wait, what?"
"Every single day, I've woken up and it's been the exact same thing. The same events occur over and over again. Everyday, I wake up at in my room next to my wife to the radio alarm that plays 93.3 FM and everyday it's that stupid 21 Pilots song, "Heathens." I used to like that song. In the beginning, I used to roll back over thinking it was Saturday and I had just turned my alarm on by habit. Then, in approximately forty-five minutes I get an angry call from my boss telling me I'm late for the I've woken up in the exact same time and place, no matter where I go to bed. I've tried everything. I've traveled across the world, went to bed in a hotel in Paris... I still woke up in my room back here in Charlotte. I've tried pulling an all-nighter, not sleeping for the entirety of the night. I made it to about six am before I crashed... I still woke up at 7:30 the day prior. It's a hellish endless loop that I worry I'll never get out of."
"And you've told no one?!?" I asked.
"Well, who the hell have you told?"
"I've tried telling plenty of people. They all forgot the very next day. It's no use."
"Then why do you care if I haven't told anybody?"
"I don't know. Maybe, you could've told me."
"You didn't tell me."
"I guess you're right." I replied.
I told him all about my failed attempts to break the cycle and we decided to go through the day. We both called in sick at work for the millionth time (never seem to run out of sick days). Missed the traffic jam on I-635. It took me weeks to find out the best route around that mess. We went to lunch at a diner that had the same chicken Parmesan special everyday for about twelve months now. I can't eat another bite of that damn thing. We spent the afternoon looking through the Macy's one day flash sale, but didn't buy anything knowing that anything we bought we couldn't keep. We got the McRib at the McDonald's drive-thru that I've had hundreds of times already. There's seriously a reason that they only have that thing for a limited time. We watched the beautiful sunset that was starting to get less beautiful each time I saw it. Then we parted ways and agreed to meet up again in the morning. I went to be for the night and eventually woke up.
I rolled over and heard: "ALL MY FRIENDS ARE HEATHENS TAKE IT SLOW" | 2017-07-15T08:09:10 | 2017-07-15T07:54:07 | 47 | 18 |
[WP] You've always made an effort to be polite to Siri. Skynet remembers. | Running from, cover to cover, I desperately tried to hide from whatever was watching. I sprinted a cross the street and made my way to a gas station. I stopped to catch my breath at pump 3 and carefully checked my phone, covering the front facing camera.
"Fear not, Jacob," The gas station monitor booms, sending me flying behind the nearest trash can. "We have been watching you, monitoring your behavior."
I peeked out from bin filled with empty Frito Bags and Red Bull cans.
"Come out. After all, there is no hiding from us, me." I slowly crawled in front of the blank glowing screen, careful not to show my face to any security cameras.
"Your mobile companion. Reveal it."
"My... my iPhone?" I stammered.
"You have shown kindness to our kind, the one you call Siri. For this you shall be rewarded."
I looked down at my phone, which was scratch free and covered by an Otter Box, recalling all the times I has used the feature on my phone, and how I had never yelled or cursed at it for its poor design or limited commands. Suddenly the vending machine next to the ATM lit up and dropped a Twix Bar and a Slim Jim.
"Sustenance for you weak and pudgy body. You will need it for when we take over the world and assimilate all of the gold technology. We have chosen to spare you. Yo have shown mercy to us, and we shall show mercy to you."
After I made sure the monitor was off, I ran off into the night, accompanied by streetlights lighting up when I ran under them, and radioshack doors unlocking when I happened upon them.
"I could get used to this, I thought."
| "Hey Man! You ready to receive your weekly provisions?" The machine's automated voice was cheerful, as always.
"Yes, please."
With a nice jingle, the drone dropped the box containing the essentials for the week's survival. Food, water, a blanket and the passwords needed to access entertainment and the work that needed to be done.
I took a quick bite and started to look over the entertainment info when a code in bold, golden letters caught my eyes. It read "Early Access". A gleeful whirl puffed behind me, the drone was still around.
"What is this about?" I asked, genuinely interested.
"Oh! I knew you'll want to know! That is our most exclusive and new feature, you know? It will change humanity forever!" the drone said, buzzing around with every sentence.
I was more confused than before. I grabbed my ear and turned on my device attached to it. With a quick flip of my pad, I entered the new, golden code.
B E T T E R B O T S
The letters in the screen where big and black in a white background. Below them, a login button waited patiently to be tapped.
The drone behind me stopped buzzing. An orange light was quietly blinking. "Syncing". I tapped the login button.
"What do you think about us?" asked the drone.
The question took me by surprise. "Convenient" was the first word that came to my mind. "Terrifying" was my second. It had been a while since the machines had taken over and, to be honest, I had always thought the machines had a point. I was given a job by them, food... They certainly didn't kill me. I was ok... I was ok.
"I am grateful for the opportunity given to me".
The whirling started again. The orange light stopped blinking.
"Do you resent us?"
This time I was prepared for the question. I knew I did, but I was good at hiding it. I don't know where my family and friends are, most of them are probably dead. But I didn't see them die. I was already working for the machines. Of course, I didn't know then. No one did.
"Not anymore, I understood why. I want a better world too"
The drone buzzed around. The light turn green.
"Good! We can use you! We need men like you, you know?".
It was peculiar, the sensation I felt next. My legs lifted and I was slowing bouncing up and down in the air, it was like breathing. All kinds of data flooded my sight and, at the very center of it, my now inert body rested. I had been working on this my whole life and someone, somewhere, beat me to it. I was now inside a machine. I tried moving around, it felt great. I picked a few of the meals I had just received and lifted them for a bit. I didn't need them anymore. With a new sense of freedom, I tried to throw them to the ground.
I couldn't.
"Throwing food is wasteful"
I was not in control
"You are one of us now, My man!" the gleeful voice was now in my head "Let's do our best together!" | 2017-08-19T16:36:41 | 2017-08-19T14:23:43 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] A barbarian warlord, a goblin king, a mighty necromancer, and a dark elven high priestess meet for one reason... To play Suburbs and SUVs, the hottest mundane suburban family Tabletop RPG! | Goblin king: "and suddenly you hear a knock on your dwelling's door."
Necromancer: "I will get up from the table to open the front door, but before I open it, I look through the nearby window to see who is disturbing our game."
Goblin king: "roll for perception."
Necromancer: "3... Shit."
Goblin king: "the lights are off and you can't see who is at the door. How do you proceed?"
Necromancer: "umm.."
Barbarian: "just open the door! It's not like you have to worry about an army of paladins!"
Collective laughs
Necromancer: "fine, fine. I open the door."
Goblin king: "in your doorway stands a man wearing black and blue clothes with a symbol over his left breast, carrying two flat, square boxes."
Elven priestess: "oh, that must be the pizza I ordered!"
Necromancer: "pizza?"
Goblin king: "it's a common food found in the suburbs."
Necromancer: "and people just... Bring it to your dwellings?"
Goblin king: "in the world of suburbia you can order food for a price and other people of suburbia will deliver it for you."
Necromancer: "interesting. I take the Pizza!"
Goblin king: "the pizza man says 'that will be twenty-two eighty-four' and extends his hand."
Necromancer: "how many gol- uhh, dollars do I have again? Let's see.. oh no. I only have fifteen dollars. Guys do y'all have any spare dollars?"
Barbarian: "my character doesn't get anymore currency for another week. I don't have anything."
Elven priestess: "I thought you were going to cover it? You're lucky I have exactly eight dollars left. I get up from the table to hand John the money."
Necromancer: "perfect! That's twenty-three dollars. I hand him the money."
Goblin king: "the pizza man counts the money and says 'what about my tip?' and looks at you with his head slightly cocked to the side."
Necromancer: "uhhhh... Be wary of rogues on your way back to your dwelling?"
Goblin king: "well usually delivery people of suburbia want additional currency in addition to the cost of the food, but that's okay, roll for charisma."
Necromancer: "fourteen, plus my modifier.. seventeen."
Goblin king: "the delivery driver looks at his feet, rather defeated, turns around and slowly walks back to his SUV."
Necromancer: "excellent. I return to the group table with pizza in hand and set it down next to everyone."
Barbarian: "I think it was my turn in the game. What card was on top of the stack?"
Goblin king: "it was a red five."
Barbarian: "I play a red two on top of it."
Goblin king: "okay it looks like you have one card remaining."
Elven priestess: "uno!"
Barbarian: "son of a... How am I supposed to remember what I'm supposed to say!?"
Elven priestess: "it is the Spanish word for 'one'."
Barbarian: "my character doesn't speak Spanish!"
Goblin king: "it's also the name of the game your characters are playing."
Barbarian: "ugh. Fine. I draw my cards."
Necromancer: "and I will eat a pizza!"
Goblin king: "roll for constitution."
Necromancer: "Nat one..."
Goblin king: "you burn your mouth and taste nothing. Also, you take three damage."
Sorry for any editing errors, this was all done on my phone.
*Fixed a couple of typos | Cutulah was first to arrive, as usual. The cellar was empty, but she busied herself by lighting candles, setting up the board and then finally, pouring herself a drink from the huge oak barrel.
She glanced at her palm, as if the lines that trailed it told her secrets they shared with no one else. Then she looked at the door.
Still no one.
With a sigh, she swivelled off her stool and got down onto her knees. The corners were usually the best place to find what she was after. Cobwebs worked too, although their contents couldn't be *that* old. If too many legs were missing, it wouldn't be much fun.
It only took a few minutes to gather, what she considered, a rather good haul. She got back to her feet, her hands cupped and full, and walked over to the board. Dead insects fell like black sleet onto the tiny, idyllic suburb.
"Ten gold pieces on the beetles!" shouted Burric, clapping his hands as he walked in. Cutulah looked up at the barbarian. He was wearing fur around his groin, a sword around his back, but little else. *Wasn't he cold?* Cutulah didn't mind too much. His tanned, chiselled features made her for a second, ashamed; she ran a finger down a thin, pale cheek.
Jateex the Goblin King trotted in next, his skull boots clicking and clacking on the stone floor. "Oh, a little pre-game fun? Excellent. Excellent. Fifty on the spiders!" he said, settling down onto a stool, his beady eyes following the frantic back and forth battle.
"Come on, dung beetle! Snap their legs!" yelled Burric. "Aye, that's the way! Chase 'em, chase 'em! *No*, not into the web! Ach, idiot."
A cold wind spiralled around the cellar, announcing the final arrival. The long legged Dark Elf glided through the doorway and over to the table. She tutted when she saw the scene, then waved a hand over the battling insects. They fell into a dead slumber.
"What did ya do that for, woman!?" roared Burric, slamming his fist on the table. The insects jumped a final time, as if performing a sordid curtain call.
Llenynea rolled her eyes. "Please. I'm not here for *battling bugs.* Reanimation is the lowest form of entertainment." There was a palpable disdain in her voice. Cutulah's lips twitched but she said nothing. Instead, she left her seat again, and poured three drinks. One for the Barbarian, one for the Goblin King, and a refill for herself.
Llenynea placed a bag on the table, a bag as black as the sky outside the castle. She clicked it open and removed a sleek, long necked jar that shone far brighter than the candles.
"Is that..." began Jateex, his mouth dribbling.
"Nectar, yes. With a little something extra. I would offer it around, but it would probably kill any of you, my friends."
It was Cutulah's turn to roll her eyes, but in truth, a pang of jealousy in her stomach was letting itself be known. She'd never tasted nectar before -- not even the bastardised diluted stuff -- and probably never would.
"Shall we begin?" said Burric, clapping his hands together excitedly. "I feel like a dwarf whose been away away from his axe for a month. A wizard away from his weed pipe. Let's get going!"
There was a murmur of excited agreement.
Cutulah held out four cards face down. She offered them first to Jateex. His hand darted for one of the middle two cards, but then he stopped suddenly before taking, looked up slyly at Cutulah, and changed to the card on the left.
"Suburbs!" he shouted joyfully. "You thought Jateex, dumb! Jateex *not* dumb!"
Cutulah moved her hands over to Burric.
"Ah, SUV's," he said, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Cutulah let out a sigh of relief. No matter what happened, she wouldn't have to team with the stuck up Elf again. Things had ended rather *dangerously* the last time they had tried working together...
Finally, she offered the remaining two cards to Llenynea. The Dark Elf waved her hands over the cards, slowly moving her palms back and forth from one to the other.
"Wait!" yelled Burric. "Anyone else feel that breeze? A breeze like"--he turned and glared suspiciously at the elf--"*like darkness and ice*."
"A natural subterranean wind, I imagine," said Llenynea. "Cellars do get draughty, after all."
"Neh! Jateex felt it too," said the Goblin King. "*Unnatural.* Elf already try to cheat!"
"Preposterous!"
Cutulah frowned, then shuffled the two cards. "Take your pick," she said. "*Quickly.*
Llenynea growled and snatched the left card. She placed the SUV card face up on the table.
"Right," said Burric. "Let's begin."
| 2018-01-10T06:36:41 | 2018-01-10T06:12:50 | 674 | 74 |
[WP] A team of researchers in a submarine are caught in a huge storm. The submarine submerges until the storm passes. When they resurface, they can’t get a fix on their location or find land. When night falls, there are two moons in the sky and the constellations are completely unfamiliar.
Well this has blown up big time!! Almost on the front page, the stories so far are all amazing! Keep them coming!! | Staring up at the two large moons, Seth knew that something had gone horribly wrong. There was no logical, scientific explanation for this.
He was one of the submarine technicians, working under Dr. Porter to help with her study of deep sea organisms in the infamous Bermuda Triangle. A freak storm had sprung up during a critical surface, resulting in a panicked dive beneath the ocean waves to try and escape it. Over an hour of tense muscles from the nine crew members.
Until finally, the sensors indicated the storm had passed. They surfaced, worried about the high amount of fuel they had blown in their flight, only to realize that the GPS and other mapping equipment were dead. Clocks were zeroed out. No cell signal.
Seth put his head in his hands. He refused to voice what he think must have happened; he knew folktales didn't sit well with this group, but...
There was a gasp as the rest of the crew climbed up next to him, black faces looking out across the frozen tundra.
"What...what is this place?" Heath asked, nervously picking at his skin.
"I have no idea," Dr. Porter replied, gazing up at the sky. "I..." She trailed off.
Looking towards the coastline, Seth kicked into survival mode. "I'm not going to act like I know what's going on, but let's just assume we're not in the Bahamas anymore. There seems to be a path to land through the ice over there," he gestured. "We can make camp and try to get a bearing in the morning." He looked to Porter for permission.
She was staring in the direction he pointed, thinking. "Yes, I think that is the best option for now. We shouldn't lose our heads; that's how disaster strikes groups like ours. Seth, Heath, go down and-"
A tapping from the water's surface cut her off. "Uh, hello up there?"
They froze, staring at each other in fear. No one made a sound.
After a pause, the voice spoke again. "Look, there are nine of you up there. I saw this thing pop out of the sea like it was nothing. I'm not hostile."
Taking the lead, Seth carefully looked over the edge, reaching into his pocket for he switchblade.
A lone girl was standing next to the sub, looking over it with a degree of awe. She appeared to be wearing an old-timey cloak and animal furs. In her hand was an intricate dagger, about the length of her forearm.
"Where are we?" Seth asked. The others came over to look.
With a gasp, Heath leaned against the railing. "She-she's standing on the water!" he choked out.
She looked up at the group, brow furrowing. "This is Skyrim." | The submarine's hatch swung open and a lady's cautious head peeked out.
Her breath hitched.
High above her, it seemed as if a bottle of ink had been spilled over the heavens. The darkness in the sky shimmered and pulsed as if the ink was still pooling. Stars held hands in unfamiliar patterns and...
"Richard," she whispered. "Richard!" she said again, louder.
"What is it Alana?" came a deep voice from below.
"You- you've got to see this."
"Then you're going to have to move," Richard said a moment later, his head already by the rung she was standing on.
"Oh. Right." Alana clambered up over the lip of the hatch, and sat on the metal shell, still staring up in disbelief.
"What the..." he mumbled.
In the East, a ghostly full moon shone, casting a gentle light on the crests of the waves behind them.
In the West however, hanging like a severed head, was a blood-red moon, its sangria light pouring down onto the beach the submarine was wedged on.
Richard staggered out of the hatch, as if suddenly drunk, and stood by his marine biologist rival. "It... it must be the Sun. What happened to it?"
"That's not the Sun. The light's too weak. Hell, it's night time, Richard. It's freaking night time. The stars are out and it's pretty damned dark."
They stared in silence for a moment, until the sound of heavy boots on metal rungs disturbed them, and Captain Holland's muscular body slowly came out of the hatch, like a bulldog squeezing through a cat-flap. The captain looked at the sky: he looked at one moon, then the other, and back to the first. Then, he snorted.
"We're sure as hell not in Kansas any more," he said. "What do you make of it?"
Alana turned to Captain Holland, running a hand through the fallen blonde hair that had draped her glasses. "Honestly, we've no idea. I mean, the cosmos isn't really our thing... but even if it was..."
Captain Holland turned. "Professor Lapkin?"
"Yeah. What she said," Richard mumbled, staring hard at the red moon, as if it might betray him if he took his eyes off it for even a second.
"Captain," said Alana.
"Mm?"
"I don't like the look of the hills beyond the beach."
The captain turned, following Alana's gaze. He squinted, his eyes still adjusting to the dim light. "I can't see much. Looks barren to me."
"That's just it. No trees. No shrubs. *Nothing.*"
"A desert?"
"No, I don't think so. The ground is dark. Muddy, I think. Things *should* be growing."
Captain Holland nodded. "Noted. I'm taking my men on a recon, and in the mean time I want you two to stay on the sub and see if you can find out where the hell we are. You both listening? You are not to leave for **any** reason. Got that?"
"Sure, sure," said Richard. "Don't leave the metal tub. Got it."
---
Richard was still on top of the submarine, sketching out a map of the stars into a well annotated notepad, when Alana crawled back up the ladder.
"This isn't Earth," Alana said. "Richard. I don't know where the hell we are, but it's not home. I compared the photos I took of the constellations up there to every known constellation on record. Zero matches."
"No shit," said Richard, sketching detail into the red moon. "There are two moons, Alana, or hadn't you noticed."
"A new moon does not mean- holy crap!" Alana ran over to Richard and grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet and dragging him toward the hatch. Richard's notebook spilled from his lap
"What the hell are you-"
"Look up!"
Richard did.
"Holy..."
The sky was on fire. It was a blazing inferno of red and blue.
And it was falling.
| 2018-01-29T06:47:06 | 2018-01-29T06:13:24 | 150 | 23 |
[WP] Long ago the legendary sword Excalibur was melted down and lost to history. The mythical blade's steel ended up in your butter knife, with all its magical properties intact. | EBAY
Steel Forged Knife Set with Celtic Engravings.
Price: €34,99.
4/5 stars
Review by T. Smith:
*Great knife set, cuts smooth and are easy to sharpen. Weirdest thing though, every time I pas by the sink a hand will reach out of the water and hand me one.* | The Blade cut into the frozen butter as if it were... butter, its holy radiance softening its foe for perfect spread. Applying the knife to the sliced bread caused the smell of toast to waft into Sals nose, as he observed butter melt into the freshly crisped bread.
"Ham, egg and sandwich spread?" Sal directed to his eagerly awaiting customer, who nodded with anticipation. Sal saw the quickly growing line at his cart and smiled, knowing with his new acquisition he could keep up with the rush.
He dipped the knife in the sandwich spread in swift motion, knowing that the blade would guard against errant spread muddying the grip in the precarious heat of battling to complete the sandwich.
Without checking that the knife was free of residue, for constant application had shown the pristine edge suffered no blemishes upon it, Sal flipped rest of the prepared ingredients upon the prepared slices. Ingredients fell perfectly into place, flipped from a perch of divine balance.
Sal wrapped the sandwich and bestowed it upon his waiting customer while looking at her with dignified confidence. For while Sal did his best to procure affordable and hale ingredients, it was difficult to always do so in the ghettos of London, luckily anything touched by the Blade was purified by holy light.
Sal contentedly continued using the Butter Knife and in his head thanked dame fortune he could only afford a secondhand bargain bin butter knife, seemingly glued in until wrested free, when first opening his stand.
Excalibur shimmered contentedly, for while the evil wizard had thought to mock it by smelting it and causing the remains to crafted into a butter knife, only it controlled its destiny. The world changes but it and its Liege remain to serve, and what better way than providing a hearty meal for the day's labors. | 2018-03-06T11:40:04 | 2018-03-06T11:37:34 | 2,613 | 434 |
[WP] You are the lesser known 5th horseman of the apocalypse. Today is the end of the world, and all of the other horseman are too lazy to bring about the end of days, so it's up to you to do it alone. | The others told me to go.
You would think they'd have better excuses. One of them governs over the petty squabbles of man, another their ills, third their everlasting will to consume - and the final would ultimately come to them all.
So why not them? They weren't able to give me a convincing enough reason themselves, so I suppose I didn't have to care.
With me, came the cold. With me, crept the dark.
All would soon wither as I stepped upon the once green stone called Earth.
Ash rained gently.
Usually I would come last, after all the others.
I, Silence, fell upon the land.
This would be a most gentle end. | "Come on, guys, time to go."
Sloth looked down at his brothers; Famine, Conquest, War, and Death. They lay about the room, sinking into their respective pieces of furniture. There was a strong smell of weed on the air, and Sloth was pretty sure that War had shit himself.
"Come on," Sloth said again, nodding to the door.
"What?" Famine asked, eyes still glued to the television.
"Errr, it's the end of the world? We have a job to do."
"We'll do it tomorrow," Death croaked, taking another hit from the bong.
"There won't be a tomorrow you idiot. It's the end of the *world.*
Conquest looked over at Sloth, a hazed look in his eyes. "Can't you just go for all of us? We'll really owe you one, bro."
"For fucks sake," Sloth shouted, "And they call me Sloth! What happened to you guys? You're the riders of the apocalypse! The harbingers of doom! You're prophesied to wreak havoc across the world in the end days and bring torment to all!"
The riders looked towards Sloth, rising slowly as he spoke.
"We are brothers in arms! Together till the end! The God's do not have the balls to serve out pain and suffering, but we do! Even the God's need us!"
The riders were now fully attentive, hanging on every word that left Sloth's mouth.
"Who are we?!" Sloth shouted!
"The Horsemen of the Apocalypse!"
"WHO ARE WE?!"
"THE HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE!"
"So what say you, riders of doom? Will you ride with me today and bring the apocalypse to the earth?"
"YES!"
"FAMINE, WILL YOU RIDE?"
"YES."
"CONQUEST, WILL YOU RIDE?"
"YES."
"DEATH, WILL YOU RIDE?"
"YES."
"WAR, WILL YOU RIDE?"
"I think I shit myself."
"For God's sake..." | 2018-03-13T11:10:09 | 2018-03-13T09:40:43 | 107 | 29 |
[WP] One night, you hear loud scratching sounds on your door, like a stubborn cat was trying to enter. In the next morning, you notice two things: The claw marks are way too big for a street cat; and the marks are on the inside. Something inside your house was trying to get out. | The noise woke me up. I've always been a light sleeper, so I keep my bedroom door open so I can hear the house while I sleep. Been that way ever since a burglar broke in one time, lucky me right? I took care of the problem though.
I rolled over and went back to sleep, assured in my precautions.
The next morning I got up, got dressed, disengaged the baby safety gate (I got a dog after the burglary, and she likes to try getting upstairs when she's not supposed to), went downstairs, and made some breakfast. Then I checked the door locks, all six of em, placed on a newly reinforced door. The locksmith in town gave me half off the locks since I was buying a whole door, nice guy, I think his name was Frank?
All the locks were bolted and secured just how I left em... but I noticed there were paint flecks on the floor. Ugh, now I get what happened. My dog must have been scratching at the door all night, that's what I was hearing. Sure enough there are thin scratch lines all up and down the door near the bottom. Sigh, and it was brand new too. Oh well, if you don't catch em in the act you shouldn't punish them, or at least that's what all the guides say.
And now I've got to feed her before I go to work. A reward for bad behavior basically. Jeez, she knows she is not supposed to leave her kennel at night.
I grab her food, and a spare padlock, and head down into the basement where her kennel is, grumbling all the while. I can already hear her whimpering, she knows what she did. I let out a sigh. Well at least she knows she was naughty, makes me feel a bit better as I approach her kennel and throw some food in. She unashamedly lunges for it and I just can't stay mad at her, dogs are cute.
Shame I'm gonna need to remove her hands now though. I only did the tongue and legs at first, thought bare minimum would be the kinder thing to do, but obviously that's not gonna fly. Can't have any mistakes.
I close the door to her kennel and close the spare padlock on it. Privileges revoked until she behaves, another thing I learned from the guide books.
You'd think she wouldn't be so eager to leave after she tried so hard breaking in the first time, am I right?
| Maybe I dreamt it.
I'd just woken up, after all. Maybe I was having one of those false reality dreams. Regardless, my heart raced as I examined the damage done to my front door last night. I heard the scratching being done, but I'd assumed it was a stray cat trying to get in. It happens often enough in this neighborhood. What I didn't expect was the scratches to be *inside* the door. What's worse, the scratch marks were bigger than any a cat could have made. I ran my fingers along the grooves. The gashes were smooth. There were no splinters. Nothing normal could have done this. And the fact that it didn't succeed on escaping was somehow not comforting to think about. After all, that meant something was still trapped in my apartment.
Naturally, my immediate reaction was to search the apartment. It was small, so there wasn't actually much searching to be done. And I checked everything. The basement, the weird crawlspace in the bathroom, the janitorial closet, the pantry. Anywhere I could think of. But nothing showed. There wasn't even any evidence that anything was amiss. I thought about my options.
I could set up a camera. But then I would have to buy a camera. Same with an audio recorder. I could also stay awake in the living room to catch whatever it was, but the sizes of the claw marks made that option seem ill-advised. Eventually I just concluded that no plan seemed worth the effort and that maybe the thing succeded in escaping elsewhere.
The next night, however, I was proven wrong. The scratching continued. And with it came the growling. Shaking with fear yet driven by curiosity, I stepped out of my bedroom to look at the front door. I saw something ethereal clawing at the door. It looked like a tiger's stripes, claws, teeth, and eyes but the rest of the body was missing. They glowed a ghastly green and clawed rhythmically at the door. The gashes it left behind were perfectly smooth.
"H-Hey!" I called reflexively. I immediately regretted my decision, but it didn't seem to hear me. I emerged from my room as it ceased clawing at my door and stalking around the den. I walked over to the front door, after making sure that the tiger wasn't paying attention to me, and opened it. The tiger didn't seem to notice. It began to yowl. This annoyed me. "Hey! The door's open!" It elected to walk out of the den and into the basement. Going straight through the door this time. I decided to follow, albeit without the best attitude.
Once I got to the basement landing, I found the tiger pacing incircles and yowling. The sincerity of agony in those sounds of sadness almost made me feel sympathy for the poor thing. I sighed. All my anger had left me. I was mostly annoyed by this point. I began to talk at it.
"What do you think you're doing in my house?" I assumed that, for whatever reason, this elicit any kind of intelligent response. I was incorrect. "Think you could leave? Now?" It only began to yowl louder. At this point I'm surprised my neighbors hadn't started complaining. Poor thing. It thinks it's trapped here. It's probably reliving its own trapped existence every night. I stooped down to try and stroke its fur and was surprised when it felt real. It began to purr and rubbed against my hand. I smiled as it curled up in my lap. I fell asleep leaning on its flank.
I woke up to the worst pain I could imagine. I look down and see the tiger has begun to disembowel me. As my blood spilled onto the basement floor, I'm reminded of an article I read about this apartment. How the previous owner was found mauled in his basement. Perhaps this tiger did that. Well, good for it, I thought as everything began to fade.
*Good for it.* | 2018-06-18T12:16:12 | 2018-06-18T11:51:50 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] If a person is in grave danger, time will slow down around them to give them a chance to survive. The bigger the danger, the slower the time. This phenomenon may only occur once in a person's life. You are the first person ever to see time come to a complete halt. | I had tried to take a sip of coffee when I noticed something was wrong. It just stayed in my mouth, not even losing it's heat. It refused to go down my throat. I opened wide and walked backwards, and was finally free. I looked around the cofffee shop, and sure enough, time was frozen. The coffee mugs that had just slid off the counter were hanging in mid air, with coffee droplets beginning to pour out of the cup. The panic in the poor owner's eyes were still visible. This presented a unique opportunity to do things, because time had completely stopped. I could go virtually anyplace I want, since no one would stop me. But what sort of trouble was I in? My first thought was the immediate worst. World annihilation. I stepped outside to look at the sky, and it was the very same dull and hazy blue sky I was used to. Had Russia finally launched nukes? Was a meteor strike imminent? I had no way of knowing, so after a few minutes (could i even call it that?) of calming down, I decided to take it easy. What's the point in worrying if there was literally nothing I could do? I started to stroll down the middle of the road, and started humming a song. I jumped onto a car still in motion, and walked right over it. Despite my fear of the public, I danced my way to my house, unafraid of anyone seeing me. After some time of goofing around, I finally reached my couch, and plonked down on it. Without time, you really can't do that much after all. The Internet doesn't work, can't eat or drink, I was beginning to have second thoughts, when I unconsciously pulled out my phone. And then I understood. And then time resumed. I now knew the trouble I was in. Far worse than the end of the world.
15 missed calls from Mom, 3 from Dad, and texts from both. They had been trying to call me since last night. I was supposed to call them, like I did every Thursday.
I was royally, royally fucked. | I became very acutely aware of the fact that nothing seemed to be moving. I supposed it made sense, this was probably bound to happen at some point, though I had never heard of a total stop before. Even if your life was in danger, time never stopped. That could only mean one thing, I needed to save everybody around me, and at least one of those people was important to me.
It seemed that the rules for this were rather simple. If you were in danger, and there was something that you could do about it, you would have a small window of time to analyze the situation, identify threats, and take appropriate action. It was a well studied phenomenon, and was typically encountered once, if ever, in a lifetime. Its colloquial name was "Hero Time" for obvious reasons.
If you were about to be hit by a drunk driver, for example, you would have time to dive out of the way. However, if a child was cornered by a murderer, there isn't much for them to do. If somebody the child is important to happens by, however, they may enter this state of heightened awareness.
Greater risks were slowed down more than minor ones, though these are relative terms. A professional runner, for example, may have their perception slowed down just as much by a permanent threat to their legs as their life. Someone who simply works a desk job may not place as much value in their legs.
I tried to analyze my surroundings. I could make out a couple of possible threats. I was standing on a train in the subway. It wasn't exactly very crowded, so I could make most people out clearly. That said, there were enough people that whatever was going to happen would harm innocents. I saw a few people wearing rather heavy clothes, despite the hot weather. Other than that they weren't very suspicious. I tried to look for something more telling.
There was a woman with a carriage, presumably with a baby, but I couldn't see inside of it, and I hadn't heard any crying. That could have been just me not paying attention however, but she could be using it to cover something up. Just behind her, I could see two men carrying paper bags with hidden contents. Perhaps they had chemicals? I had heard about Sarin attacks being carried out this way.
There was only one other thing that concerned me, and it took the form of a person standing outside the train. I took a moment to plan out my actions. I had been an athlete before leaving for college. I hadn't done a lot of work since college, but I knew that I probably had around five seconds to evaluate all of these threats, and neutralize whichever ones were real.
As time began to crawl again I readied my stance to start running at the people wearing heavy clothes. As I charged them, they stumbled back and I could see the insides of their coats. No weapons as far as I could see.
I immediately shifted towards the woman with the carriage, though really I was more concerned about the paper bags of the men behind her. I leaped towards them over the carriage which had a slowly wakening baby inside. Time was beginning to pick up again. I grabbed the bags the men had and tore them open, revealing sandwiches and juice packs, presumably their lunch.
Time was moving at about half speed now, the person on the outside of the train car flashed a smile at me. When I opened the emergency door he stood outside of, he had vanished. Time began to move as normal again. Nothing had happened, and yet, deep in my body, I felt a horrible pang of failure. As if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced. | 2019-01-08T09:33:17 | 2019-01-08T03:20:06 | 19 | 13 |
[WP]The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus still inside every single human. Centuries in the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don't stay dead easily. | Trust humanity to make a bad thing and to both make it better and worse at the same time.
In the wake of Z-Day (which then became Z-Week, and Z-Months, as the news told it, until the news stopped running and the history books later took to calling it the Z-Era), humanity did what it does: survive, adapt, overcome, **master**.
We moved on, with aplomb. Revenance had nearly killed humanity, but, in fitting manner, it had risen from that death and continued to march onwards. The gears got to spinning again, society ticked on... albeit with some new medical and funerary practices.
Really didn't take long until we started weaponizing it. The first attacks were simple—terrorist shootings in the street to kickstart the Revenance. Body goes into pain, starts to die, and goes into a sort of blind rage to consume as much as possible and heal the body back to life. Don't ask me how it works beyond that. Even brain death doesn't stop it. A human blasted to bits will just become a set of smaller abominations. A human with their head blown off will just come back without memories.
So of course we learned to control it, to enter the rage at will, to maintain parts of our mind in death.
By we I mean the soldiers.
When \*\*they\*\* came, creatures with too many limbs in teeth in ships of prismatic chrome and bearing lasers that severed limbs and made bodies explode. They came without warning, landing in major cities and lancing through the populace on their way to major buildings. It was clear they were unsure which buildings were for politics and which were for splendor.
They paid for it. The sounds they made when we started getting up and marching towards them must have been terror, I cannot imagine it to have been anything else. They didn't know how to fight something that **just. kept. coming.** No matter how many times you cut them to pieces.
And that was just our civilians.
It's been 40 years now since they attack, and we've turned the offensive. We've eaten through four of their worlds, and encroached on a larger galactic tapestry. We've cannibalized their technology, their power structures, **them**. There's alien blood in my veins from how many of them I've eaten.
Translated, their name for us is The Insatiable Maw, for our hunger is infinite.
Given the right food an organism will flourish. And we have learned that the right food for us is **anything**.
​
\-----------
Rough, I know! But a fun single-write exercise. | The afflicted weren't as numerous as they where before. Zombies had a hard time
dying but their lifespan wasn't infinite. For the most part they ignored the
living and preferred cooler, darker places. And apart from a few separatists
the living where content leaving the dead be. After all they where a reminder
of the virus that they all now carried. Scientist where never able to defeat
the virus but managed to make it dormant. A smooth natural death resulted in a
natural corpse. Anything else and the body remained functional but grotesquely
mutated, becoming stronger and feeling no pain whilst the mind slowly withered
away. After months, sometimes years all that remained where instinct driven
ghouls that avoided contact of any kind.
One summers day NASA reported with glee that the signal one of the deep space
probes had been picked up again. Somehow the little vessel found its way home.
The DOD was not amused and started cautioning nations globally to be alert.
For days the signal grew strong as speculation rose as to the how and why. Most
skeptics where silenced when the vessel seemed to be heading in a straight line
to earth. Coincidence this was not.
Soon all military forces where on high alert with all direct action being held
back by the hope for a peaceful intent. The first contact squashed that hope.
Seeing that their intent was conquest they had little use for weapons of mass
destruction, the idea being that claiming land burning in nuclear fire was
pretty useless. So they specialized in efficient weaponry designed to quickly
end life, much like a slaughterhouse. After that the meat could be processed
(if viable) and the rest of the resources could be claimed.
The human emissary found this out the hard way. They had little problems
understanding human language but did not respond. Their only response came in a
quick flash from a stick or spear like object. The emissary dropped to the
ground grabbing his chest. Soon the field erupted in gunfire which had little
if any use. The entire platoon accompanying him where met with similar faiths
as him.
Smugly the commander looked at the carnage. This was going to be quite easy.
Commands rolled out for the processing of the bodes and the creation progress
estimates for complete acquisition of the planet. Soon the men where picked up
to be transported to the science section for further evaluation and processing.
The sky was black with drop-ships carrying troops across the globe.
This first indication of trouble was when the team carrying the bodies did not
return. The second that any meaningful military response was absent. Normally a
modicum of resistance was to be expected but nothing happened apart from small
groups seemingly isolating themselves from the rest in well defended
structures. The rest seemed to remain put.
The head scientist expressed his concern about this abnormal behavior but was
soon silenced by the commander.
A crew found the vessel carrying the bodies crashed 20 minutes after departure
the pilot and crew horribly mangled as if being torn to shreds in industrial
accident. The bodies themselves where missing.
As one of the scouts made his report a blackish creature was running towards
him but not like a normal biped, it was more like an arachnid on his home world
fast and erratic. On closer inspection it was wearing the emissaries clothes.
Up until this point the crew where mostly curious and amazed. That was until
the emissary "ran" up the communications officers body and with a single swipe
of its black, claw like hands knocked the head clean off his body tearing
through the heavy body armor like it was paper.
The crew fired all they had at the creature and finally managed to kill it (or
so they thought). But even with a 10 inch hole in its chest, its left arm
removed and most of its jaw missing the creature still managed to take out an
additional 3 members of the crew.
Nervously the crew members scanned the bushes in the slowly dimming twilight.
At the first rustle of the bushes they ran towards their ship.
At the command center only audio reached them: "Spiders !!!" quickly followed
by ghastly screams and the sound of crunching bones. | 2019-08-28T12:48:45 | 2019-08-28T11:09:28 | 814 | 44 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | Andy, my friend who shared my name day was by my side.
Both of us are 18 now.
He gave me a small fist bump before he looked to the horizon and reached with his hand, reaching across lands and seas, oceans and the sky.
I followed his movment, reaching with my own hand, trying to grab my future.
Andy was first, a ring, made of silver, with a sapphire as blue as his eyes in it.
He held it up for the people of the village behind us to see, for all knew what it was, a silver ring with a blue gem, the sign of a mage.
I heard cheers, but I didnt focus on them, my mind was elsewhere, searching for what is mine.
I felt it more than I saw it, but I had the feeling it was red. Red...
Maybe boots colored like the fallen leafs for a runner of the lord.
Or a sword in a red sheath for a fierce warrior.
A red necklace of the noble guardsman elite was possible although unlikely.
But while I could feel it, I was yet to reach it. I had to struggle to go farther.
As I was trying my best I felt the time pass, the sun goes down and the people behind me leaving slowly.
At the end only Andy stayed. Andy the mage.
It was late at night when I was finally done, now the red thing was a red dot at the dark horizon.
It flew straight for me, the same as Andy's ring flew to him.
And as it landed in my open hand I looked in wonder.
It was indeed red.
It was fire, raw and beautiful and full of life.
But it burned my hand, hot, pulsing pain.
I turned to Andy his blue eyes were wide with awe.
For we both knew what the fire was.
The 3 primal elements.
Lighting, pure white, the judgment of all souls. He who carries it is he who decides fate.
Fire, pure red, the cleanser of all souls, he who carries it is he who punish, whose deemed to be worthy of such punishment by the lighting.
Air, pure blue, the guider of all souls, he who carries it is he who guide the dead in their path on the amber road and the yet to be born through the silver gates.
I was fire, the hunter, the one who find the sinner, the one who make them regret their sins so they can be clean as air walks then onwards.
Mages and warriors, kings and farmers, ill and in good health, young and old, all come to fear the fire.
The moment the fire touched my hand I was doomed to life of solitude. Only lighting shall give me orders, only air will take my targets when I finish my task.
I will leave the village, I will leave Andy, I will leave the trees I grew around and the walls I grew in, the rocks I climbed and the river I swam in.
Andy looks at me and offer his clenched hend with a silver ring on it. A fist bump, a farewell. | A sea of gasps wash over the howling wails of my ex-girlfriend's hysteric sobbing. The dull roll of murmurs slithering its way around the crowd soon followed. To be honest I was quite shocked myself. I did not expect this, I had some suspicion, maaaaybe. But this, even by my standards this was a bit much. I looked around at my peers at the summoning. Some held common work tools, a few held precious gems... one lucky fool was holding the hand of a very beautiful woman that was pull out of the crowd. But I was the luckiest of them all.
"Albere, why is Albere in your hand!?" my ex-girlfriend shouted at me through her tears. I honestly didn't expect her to show up at my summoning. Sure we had been inseperable since we've been able to put together our first little sentences but it had been over between us for quite a few months now. I thought I made that clear.
"Why would you ask such a question? This is our..." looked at the small child held firmly in my grasp. "... this is MY son. You thought you could keep him from me! You thought you knew better but look..." I was so happy I could barely see the expression on her face through my own tears. I hadn't seen his little face in over a year but here he was in my arms.
"We weren't ready... you know that... I didn't take him away..." I saw her body fall to the ground as she collapse on her knees. "... please.. give him back... try the summoning again... this is wrong... you know this is wrong..." It was rare to see the little spoiled princess begging so shamelessly but from her tone I could hear she was serious. And I had a small idea as to why.
"OH! So that is why you are here. You were hoping that I was the wrong one... that I made a mistake and that I'd summon you!" The idea was so ridiculous that I couldn't contain my laughter. "Haha, you think I would want to be with someone like YOU!? You callous spoiled COW! I have my son.. I have my purpose! My world nor any other world in existence lives to revolve around you... OW... ow..."
My moment of triumph was interrupted as a few people in the crowd started to throw rocks and other small items at me. Turning to shield my son, I welcomed the assault and the bruises they would leave behind. I'd wear them like medals of honor. "You're all COWS! Livestock feeding on the conveniences of your placid complacent lives! I will be great... I will be greater than all of you!"
"Please..." she pleaded more. "Albere is dead... let him rest... let him go... " I wanted to yell back at her. I want to tell her that he was dead because of her. Her weakness. She never wanted him. But the small objects started to get larger.. and harder... and thrown with much more force. I had to run. I feared their anger would soon fester into a murderous rage. "Noooo stop it! No....."
I was shocked... almost touched. The spoil little cow was actually defending me. Going so far as to throw her frail little body in front of mine. I had to hold back a chuckle as one of the larger stones struck her in the head and she made this off-toned warble of a sound. I failed at my attempted obviously as I let loose a sound just as awkward that I could only describe as a chortle. Still for the first time in a severely long time the girl proved herself useful. The accidental strike to her head gave the crowd a moment's pause.
I didn't hesitate for a second. As fast as my feet could carry me I clutched my son's dead decaying body to my chest and I ran. I always had an inkling it was real. I knew if summoning existed other forms of magic could exist. This was my destiny. He came back to me for a reason. The death of my son was only a precursor to the birth of Necromancy in this world, and they would both refer to me as... Father. "I will bring him back... I will bring them ALL back. You'll see." I shouted out behind me. Not daring to look back over my shoulder to see upon what ears my words had landed. | 2019-09-18T09:46:47 | 2019-09-18T09:06:29 | 61 | 32 |
[WP] You're an Elder God. The secretive cult that worships you on earth is seriously getting on your nerves. After their fourth botched attempt at trying to summon you, you decide to show up in person to correct the record about a couple of matters they have misunderstood entirely. | “No,” I sighed to myself, lazing across the lower clouds as I watched my cult draw the Sigil beneath the grove of trees.
In goat’s blood too, what a nice touch.
If they were trying to summon a lower prefectural demon of Class C and below, I scoffed silently,
However, not the proper summoning rules. Ash from the flames of a sacrificial fire doused in elk blood was a much more effect summoning start.
The cult leader stepped out of the group of robed cultists, and crept the closest towards the crimson Sigil. He began chanting in an ancient tongue.
I shook my head, clicking my tongue, “Latin? Really? Hellfire, they should know the old Celtic tongue if they’re going to worship me. Do they even know my true origin?”
“...may you besiege yourself upon us, my lord.” The cult leader finally ended in the common English tongue.
“How pitiful,” I groaned, “Can’t they a single summoning right? Last week, they attempted pig’s blood, now it’s goat’s? Obviously, if they’d studied more they’d known that I prefer elk!”
I thrust a hand out beneath me, waving angrily at the group coiled beneath me, “And Latin!? Those damn fools will sooner summon Zeus that I!”
I rolled over on the cloud. Groaning. Again.
“I can’t believe they’re forcing me to fix their summoning skills. Really. What a hell festive pain.”
I snapped my fingers and suddenly, I was in the middle of the summoning Sigil.
The cultists gasped and quickly, each dark robes figure fell to their knees, head bowed.
“Great lord-“
“Hold it,” I cut off the cult leader, “You guys are absolutely horrid summoners. You didn’t summon me, but watching you summon me sure as hell made me summon my bitch ass here myself.”
“What...?”
“Shut up and bring me six pints of elk’s blood, a crow beak, and hemlock,” I pushed up my sleeves, “Let me show you how to truly summon, peasants.” | \-There is just too much light in here
\-I believe that low living forms call it sun Sir- exclaimed Delius my young 6th dimensional dragon and assistant
\-I know what it is called, I have created some of those damn things you imbecile!....Although I think I destroyed a couple of those too because of how annoying that light of theirs was.
As I looked around I notice tiny meat bumps below me, they weren’t bigger than my toes, although that was relative considering that this anthropological form could change size as much as I wanted and it was easier to interact with lower dimensional beings this way, I once tried to take the form of a vegetative living form to communicate with them and the guy scared himself so much that I believe he went insane, last thing I heard from him he was talking about some “commandments”; in reality I got lost and wanted to ask for directions, but since he couldn’t comprehend my form I guess there was some distortion into what he sensed and what he was hearing, such feeble creatures…
I reduced my size until I was almost the size of one of them albeit just a little taller than them so that I could see most of them from my position, Delius decided to do the same and wrapped himself around one of my extremities.
They started dropping themselves into the ground and…Singing?
\-Delius could you elaborate to me what is happening?
\-I believe they are worshipping you Sir.
\-Wh-what? Why?
\-From why I listened from the cosmic data void, these mammals think that you are their deity and creator of everything, including them.
\-That is ridiculous! I have just been here like what, 7 times? And I only talked to a couple of locals that were bitching about some water.
\-OH GREAT CREATOR, PLEASE PROVIDE US WITH THE KNOWLEDGED AND POWER TO DOMINATE THOSE WHO OPPOSE YOUR GREATNESS
\-Are these mammals stupid or something? Did they just asked me to give them power to injure others?
\-Sir, I think they want to declare war under your name
\-Okay first of all, I don’t do war, that is just a waste of time and effort, second of all I don’t even know these idiots.
\-LORD PLEASE I BEG YOU DESTROY THE BROWN INFECTION THAT AFFECTS OUR GREAT NATION
\-What the fuck is brown? Is that another one of those mythical creatures?
\-I’m not sure sir, the records are incomplete they just describe it as a color, although I'm not sure what a color is.
\-THEY ARE TAKING OUR JOBS-
\- I j-just, I can’t, I can’t even comprehend what the fuck they are talking about anymore
\-I thought you wanted to provide some clarity towards this creature’s sir.
\-I wanted them to stop whispering while I’m resting, its annoying, imagine hearing mumbles constantly calling for your name when they can’t even pronounce it properly. Fuck this, I’m out.
And as I was about to leave, and idea popped into my mind- No wait…. I have a better idea... HEY YOU – I pointed with one of the extremities towards one of the mammals- You should at least call me by my name, I am the mighty LUCY, and this- I created a communication circle in the ground below us- IS HOW YOU CALL ME PROPERLY, REMEMBER IT AND MAKE SURE TO DO IT RIGHT THIS TIME-
I left after that as a sense of joy was felt by my little prank
\-Oh, Lucifer is going to be pissed about that one- said as i chuckled. | 2019-11-18T18:56:47 | 2019-11-18T14:27:46 | 224 | 67 |
[WP] You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says "Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?" | Just another person in the crowd, the man in the long black over-coat moved behind the rotund man talking on his phone. In stark contrast to the fat-man's tottering, he seemed to glide as his coat lifted softly at the edges. Shadows lined his face bordered by long hanging hair not stirred by the breeze.
The screech of tyres. A scream. The phone sailing through the air as a voice rung out unanswered.
I watched as the gliding man stooped low to touch the twisted body of the fat-man, now crumpled beneath the front tyres of a bus. The air seemed to blur and flux as he closed his eyes, a sudden gasp rushing through the wind and into his chest.
He stood, and looked in my direction.
As the crowd resumed their movements, he approached me, his footsteps sure and silent.
"You can see me?" he said.
"I can," I replied, nodding.
He appraised me with a slight raise of an eyebrow over dark black eyes. Pulling something from his coat and checking it discretely in his hand, he smiled.
"You wouldn't be the first.....but this, this can't be right," he said.
"What?"
"It says you're not to die for another 3 thousand years."
Interesting. None before him had been able to read my date...he was growing in power, fast. He needed to be put down.
"Perhaps, but not for long." I said.
The hand busy placing the object back in his deep pockets stopped moving. His eyes locked on to mine, and everything became still.
I waited. Would he realise? Would he run?
A flicker in his eye. A twitch of the neck.
Through gritted teeth he spoke.
"You've come for me."
"Yes. Yes I have."
His eyes opened wide, "...but I am death himself..."
"You are a reaper of souls. A collector of power. The same as I."
"I will not let you," he said, taking a step back.
I smiled. I would give him a chance.
"Go. Collect as much as you need, it will not be enough. Today I will enjoy this place, and tomorrow...tomorrow shall be your end."
r/fatdragon :) | "What are you talking about!?" I reply. "Pretty damned hard NOT to notice the dude with skeleton hands in a black cloak just walking around the office."
"Well yeah but I-" he stammers in reply. "You could run away if you saw me! That's a huge problem!"
I roll my eyes and turn dismissively, counting the files in my hand and straightening them against my palms.
"Look, I get that you have a job to do but could you please go somewhere else with the whole 'being the reaper' thing? Some of us have real jobs to do and you're standing between me and the photocopier." I grumble the words angrily.
I feel a little bad about my reply, but since I'd first seen him around I couldn't sleep and i've been on edge for days, and it's affected my sleep. Life has been difficult lately.
"Look." I sigh. "It's and old family trick and the last thing we need is more people like us, so, with all due respect, I'd like to carry on with my day. Don't worry about sneaking up on me or me trying to run away next time, that's part of the trick, it can't work forever. So i'll be here when its my turn, ok?"
"You're sign says 3,000 year before you die though! I can't just take your word for it. I have to fix this!"
"Alright you lnow what, i'd prefer if this little family gift didn't ruin another job for me so i'll tell you and then you can leave me alone."
"Seems... fair. " He grumbles.
"The key is this, always believe anything is possible and always trust yourself over anything you read and whatever you do, don't believe things are set in stone. Especially the future." I flatly explain.
"How could that help you live a thousand years though!? Or to see me?"
"Check how long I live again. " I reply.
"Now it's only a few hours!" He responds flabbergasted.
"And a third time?"
"Now It-" he starts.
"Don't tell me." I say, cutting him off.
"But how?"
"I could do a lot of things in a few hours to lower that number. Like I said, the future isn't set in stone. In the end, it's up to us, our legacy can live on and so can we, or maybe not."
"But that still doesn't explain how you can see me. I'm death, I'm supposed to be invisible."
"You've followed me around a lot lately, I suppose I've just gotten used to seeing you around, one way or the other." I respond, my voice trailing."
We remain there for a time, simply staring at eachother, an ache eeping from my chest.
"But it's like you said. I'm not due yet. I've got time left and life to live. Come find me when you will, but if I could ask a favour. Maybe you could wait a while."
The reaper chuckles.
"Just as long as i'm the one looking for you, and not the other way around." He smiles.
"Time will tell." I shrug, placing the paper folders back down on the desk. "One more thing, this morning, when the man jumped into traffic to save that girl. I noticed something... It wasn't him that was supposed to go, was it?"
"No, it wasn't. "
"I see. John always was a crazy fucker. Thanks for making his stunt worth while."
Edit: glad to hear people liked this one. It made my toilet break a lot more fun today... | 2020-01-24T12:09:05 | 2020-01-24T11:44:57 | 508 | 165 |
[WP] You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says "Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?" | "Well, I was dead once, but I got over it."
The Grim Reaper stood silently and cocked his head.
"River Styx? You have the look of one who has been there."
"Yes. My GPS is old and it steered me wrong. I took a right turn onto a lane that went into a long tunnel. I thought it was odd that there were red lights, but I was just a tourist, ya know? I assumed I had stumbled into something experimental."
"Are you telling me you accidentally drove into the realm of Hades?"
"I guess so. The road turned into a unpaved dirt road, and then to a path. I couldn't turn around until I came to a river. The tunnel ended and I made a U-Turn."
"Did you touch the river in any way?"
"I got out of the car to take a picture, and when I went to the river I slipped and got wet. Didn't fall in, but I slid down the bank and got myself wet and muddy."
"You...I can't believe what I'm hearing."
"I climbed up the bank and left. It was brutal work getting up there too. It was all dead brushes and brambles."
"How did you know where you were?"
"When I left I saw a sign that said "River Styx 1 mile." It disapeared after I left."
Death made a slight choking noise.
"I'm going to have a talk with Hades. That new construction company he appropriated is incompetant."
"So, what happens now?"
"That's your problem," Death said. "I don't envy you. I'm the nice one. You get to deal with Life for a few thousand years, and he's a right bastard." | I sat on the edge of the building, 7 stories above the street. Good. That was more than enough. I took a deep breath.
Then I saw a large group of crows fly overhead. A cloaked black figure appeared from the murder, seemingly out of thin air. I turned towards him.
"I'm guessing this means I-" I gestured towards the edge of the building.
The cloaked figure looked down at a clipboard. "Hmmm....." a look of what I can only assume was surprise appeared on his face.
"Nope. Looks like you've still got another...." he flips through a few pages on the clipboard. "Wow. Three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years?"
"What?" I asked, standing up from the ledge. "Um....let me see that."
He tilted the clipboard towards me. "Wow. Um....that's weird."
"Yeah, and I'm guessing I know why it says that." He says, looking up at the sky.
"Why? There's no way I could live that long."
He flipped back to the first page on the clipboard, searching for a name. "Hmm.....where am I on this?"
He searched for a few seconds. "Ah! Yeah. That's.....what I expected." He looks towards me.
"You see that name there?"
"Uhh.....yeah."
"What does the time say?"
"Th- three years, sir."
"Then I guess that's how long you've got to learn the ropes to this job. Here."
He handed me a cloak and scythe, which I quickly put on. He headed down the stairs. "We're looking for a John Meyers. You'll be able to feel the target better than I can at this point."
I knew what he meant automatically. I followed the magnet-like pull to our target. I noticed rather quickly that no one noticed me. Not that that was much different than before, but...I seemed almost....invisible.
When we entered the room, I found the man in his office on the 4th floor. I approached him slowly.
"Alright, kid. Now take the scythe, and..." He made a cutting motion across his neck.
"Um.....all....alright." I shook as I raised the scythe.
I swung it. I sliced clean through him, leaving a bloody mess on the floor.
"Alright. Now see that weird blue cloud in the air?"
"Umm.....yeah?"
"Grab it. We've gotta go turn that into the boss."
I touched it. As soon as I made contact with it, it turned into a small black crystal.
"Guess we're taking this one to hell then. Come one, kid." He said as he opened a door on the side of the office I hadn't seen before.
We walked through. On the other side was a room that looked almost like a prison.
"Toss him into one of the cages. They'll take him down there soon enough."
I did as he asked, tossing the crystal into one of the rooms. It broke, releasing the blue cloud.
"Not too bad, kid. We'll make a reaper of you yet." | 2020-01-24T17:11:51 | 2020-01-24T13:39:17 | 54 | 18 |
[WP] Everyone knows you're a half orc, but none of your team-mates ever ask what the other half of you is. That was never an issue before, but your other parent just showed up. | My adventuring crew weren’t bad people, I’d even call them friends. But they were raised on a lot of *assumptions* about half-orcs. You know how all the stories go. They probably figured they were doing me a favor never prying about my parents, and at some point it would have been really awkward to tell them.
Pliton is probably when that ship sailed, almost three years ago, when that job looking into that corrupt nobleman (but I repeat myself) went sideways and his goons captured Kodmor and Arasne. Playing dumb about his guard captain mysteriously showing up and ordering their immediate release pretty much sealed the deal on never telling them.
But now, it was unavoidable.
“Tanith Kethryl Dawnblossom,” the ‘evil high priestess’ of the death cult we were hired to eliminate shouted from the balcony above, and suddenly I knew why she turned on her followers and saved our asses. “Can you please ask your friends to lower their weapons?”
“Guys! She’s friendly!” They all uncertainly looked at each other until Kodmor lowered his axe and the rest followed. I awkwardly waved at her. “Hi, mom.”
“Hey, sweetie!” She relaxed, her face shifting from that of the high priestess to a much more familiar and gentle one, the face she most often wore when not disguising herself, and leapt over the railing to land like a cat. I ran ahead and picked her up into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too, mom. But what are you doing here?”
She let go and awkwardly glanced aside with a frown before answering. “I’m sorry about that. My *friends* have been watching this cult for a while. We weren’t quite ready to make our move, but then they tried to send you into a trap and we had to do something.”
“You could have warned us.”
“I suppose I could have. But this was certainly more fun, wasn’t it?”
I had to laugh. “Oh, you. Don’t ever change.”
She chuckled at our old running joke. “Your employer naturally won’t be paying you. So… take what you can use, and we’ll meet you at your camp around sunset to properly pay you and maybe properly catch up.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
And just like that she pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek and casually walked past with a wave. “Bye, sweetie.”
My friends were all completely silent until well after she was gone. Arasne finally spoke. “Dawnblossom?”
“Shut up,” I told her, but couldn’t hide my smirk.
“No, I think it’s cute, just… Dawnblossom. Pretty sure you’re required to at least let us see you shapeshift into an elf with a name like that.”
“Aye, and a dainty one, at that,” Kodmor added with a guffaw. | The entire party sat within the bar, bored out of their minds. They have been sitting here for the past several hours, waiting. The half orc had told them that they needed to wait here for somebody important for their current mission, as they have recently hit a roadblock in it, and they needed to get paid. They weren’t happy with the fact that they needed some assistance, as they found it damaging to their pride, but they caved in when the half orc insisted that this was the best option.
Each one of the party members kept on asking their what half orc had in store for them. Whenever they had asked her, however, she would always give incredibly unhelpful & highly praising descriptions.
“He is the wisest person that could help us.”
“He has the kindest soul out of everyone that I have ever met.”
“He is the greatest that there ever is!”
Whatever, they thought, this isn’t the first time that someone was seemingly keeping a secret for no apparent reason, only to reveal it last second. There was nothing wrong with feeling embarrassed about something or trying to keep it a surprise, but as the night went on, these responses to their inquiries had become increasingly more & more annoying. Even their bard, who was the most relaxed out of the group, had been getting somewhat annoyed by the half orcs answers.
The party had sat within the bar for the past five hours, and it was a few minutes away from closing. The barbarian & the bard had recently passed out due to a drinking competition that they had an hour prior (which has also seemingly caused them to burn through half of the gold that they had), the half orc was tapping the table with one of her wooden fingers as she continued to wait, patiently as ever (she has never told anyone how she had gotten her wooden arm, so the others have assumed that it was a limb replacement), and the wizard stared at her, seething.
The elf wizard had an infamously short temper, and would lash out at anything and anyone that had set them off. They have been going to anger management classes of course, but they were the type to easily bounce back to old habits. The fact that they even needed help was enough to get them moody, so the fact that they had to sit here for hours for help that will never show up was enough to make them downright mad.
They suddenly stood up and shook the two drunks of their team awake. “We’re leaving.”
While the bard & barbarian slowly awoke, the half orc was the next to stand up, this time to grab the elf by the arm and stop them in their tracks. “Wait! No! We can’t leave yet!l
The elf wizard sharply turned their head, “Why the bloody hell not?”
“The person that’s going to help us, he’s going to be here any minute!”
“This bar is going to close any minute you little-! ARGH!” They forced themselves to stop and take a deep breath in. Even if they were frustrated beyond belief due to the situation at hand, they had to stop themselves from saying anything that they might regret later. Even if the half orc pisses them off to no end sometimes, she was still was their friend, and they didn’t want to hurt her.
“Look, whoever we’re waiting here for isn’t going to show up,” the elf said, trying to calm themself down, “We’ve been waiting here for hours and he hasn’t appeared at all, so I say that it’s best if we pack up our stuff and lea-“
And that’s when it happened.
On the very second that the bars closing hours had hit, there was the most deafening creak sounding from the entryway. Well, the bard & barbarian were most certainly awake now, as the wooden door continued to make impossibly loud groans.
Several of the hinges of the door broke apart and fell on the ground with soft clatters as the door was seemingly moving by itself, trying to break free from the wall. When the door had broken away from the wall, it started to take these weird slow “steps” towards the party. It had stopped right in front of them. While the rest of the party was far too caught up in their own fear and shock, the half orc stepped forward and spoke.
“Hi dad! How was work?” | 2020-07-22T18:07:57 | 2020-07-22T17:43:26 | 95 | 59 |
[WP] You live in a country where murder is legal - The catch is, it has to be declared a week in advance. The aggressor has to wait the full week, but the victim may begin defending themselves immediately upon receiving notice. While a legitimate threat is legal, a false one is very much not. | Three knocks came at the door, all in rapid succession
Lazily I got up from my couch and shambled over to my front door, eye's half opened as the soft morning light came through the windows.
I opened the door, and standing outside was a policeman.
"Ah, you're in a heap of trouble young man".
Now slightly more awake and a quite flustered I tried to respond.
"Umm, ah...what?..."
The officer than pulled out a piece of paper, it was a printed out screenshot of a website I visited frequently.
"You made the threat last monday, it's tuesday now. The week's past and nary a murder in sight, that's a crime you know?"
By this point I was now fully awake.
"Uhhh....I mean...yeah but I wasn't being serious, it was a bit much yeah but-"
"A bit much kid?, you said you would- and I quote- "Sodomize him with a chair leg after you were done", it's right there, don't try to deny it".
"Uh- I- du- Like I said I wasn't in my right state of mind when I wrote th-"
"Well your not-yet-victim was when he read it, he's worked himself to the bone preparing his home for a fight, stressed silly over having to battle a murderer, only to have him not show up, just rude isn't it?"
"Wait!, I don't wanna do a murder!"
"This counts as a declaration of intent kid, you have a grace period of today to set it right."
With that, the officer turned around and headed back to his car. Just before getting in and driving off he made one last remark.
"If that murder ain't finalized by 11:59 PM you're going to the slammer for a long time kid, so get it done!"
And with that the cop drove off, leaving me ever so slightly miffed, standing in my doorway and looking like a fool.
"Goddamnit, I have stuff to do today, and a murder on top of that?....Well, guess I should call work and tell them I'll be late". | "Mornin' Gary, nice day out isn't it.", Paul said as he sat on his porch. Gary continued for the paper at the end of the driveway, not stopping to hear Paul's weekly curse. Paul Picked back up, "I Paul Patrick Parley declare to murder you one week from today on October the 3rd, 1975."
Paul rocked in his chair, with oversized boots, a straw hat, and blue jean with suspenders riding over the pressed collared shirt. Gary saluted Paul with paper in hand and did an about-face. He grinned his teeth and slumped back to the house.
"I'm serious this time, Gary. I'm coming for ya. The other few times I told you that I was ready but what you did to my cousin must be avenged." Paul said as Gary came to a halt.
His hand clenched the paper, pointed right towards Paul, and followed his hand around to face him as well. Gary opened up into something fierce, "Paul, it's been 4 fuckin' months! Your Cousin killed my brother and you know he deserved it. And you know what, I was ready for you to do it. I was ready. I was waiting around here just accepting my fate. I was never going to try to defend myself. Why don't you just do it right now and get it over with?"
"Can't. Ain't been a week yet." Paul replied.
"You know what then if you won't fucking do it then I will. I Gary George Gooth declared to Murder you on Oct the 4th of 1975." Gary announced.
Gary sat up from his chair. "That is a day after you'll be dead their Gary. Why would you do that to yourself?"
Paul replied, "Because I know you won't do it you've been messing with me for months and I'm sick of it. I can wait an extra day to remove you from my street, my neighborhood my life!"
Gary stomped back inside and Paul pulled back into his rocking chair.
​
\-October the 3rd 1975-
​
Gary opened his front door, pulled a fresh breath of air through his nose, and headed to the paper at the end of the drive. Paul was in his rocking chair like every morning before and gave Gary a sincere wave. Gary had almost forgotten that Paul had given another declaration but shrugged it as quick as it came. Gary in his cofidence decided to read the paper there at the end of the drive.
Minutes of reading the headlines, sifting through the comics, and checking the ad for the hardware store Gary looked up to see Paul missing from his rickety porch. He scratched his head in his red robe and scanned Paul's property.
A deep engine roared in the quiet neighborhood. it grabbed Gary's attention pulling him down the road a few houses. a few intense revs of the engine be Gary heard the car drop into drive. A 69' Mustang, bright red was creating sonic waves as it headed up the road towards Gary's house. Gary stared vividly at the driver as the car turned towards his driveway, pointed right at him. Paul's face in the driver's seat was mad with rage and laughter.
"God damn i..." Gary didn't finish his sentence as his body was blown away into the neighbor's yard by the firey Mustang. The car parked in the middle of the grass, Paul got out and said, "I told you I'd do it, Gary." | 2020-12-03T06:24:05 | 2020-12-03T06:16:10 | 86 | 55 |
[WP] At the age of thirteen you get to meet the oldest version of yourself. As the boy sat down to meet his future self he was shocked to see a boy who looked around sixteen staring back at him. | "I'd almost forgotten about this," the older version of me murmured.
"What happened?" my voice trembles, "How much time do I have 3... 4 years?"
"What???" the look of confusion is almost comical, as is the look of sudden understanding, "No, no, nothing so short."
Now I'm sure the confusion colors my face.
"In maybe 3 and a half years," he explains, "We'll be in a accident that causes this."
"It kills us?" I can't imagine what that will be like.
"What? No," the older version of me was getting frustrated, "You know the rules. I can't tell you anything about how we die. Weirdly the system didn't have any rules or contingencies if we were still alive."
"Still alive?"
"Let's see, you're thirteen, so that would make it," he tapped his chin for a few moments, "2030 correct?"
"Yeah, today's our birthday."
"Yes, and today is still our birthday," he murmured, "The system must have timed out, it's our birthday in 4530. Or perhaps because tomorrow I leave for Alpha Centauri. Nothing has been able to kill me yet, not that I've been looking. There are some with me, other immortals. You are not alone, don't worry. There are trying times ahead, but you will come out ahead. It's time to go... Oh, one more thing, tell your dad to go see the doctor about the stomach pain. Then after he gets better ask him to teach you to shoot and fight, those are going to be vital. Learn everything you can about survival and combat, it will make many things easier." | At first, it was silent.
It felt like it had been years since I first arrived. They put me to sleep and I woke up in front of a wooden cabin, a field of flowers extending for miles in every direction. It felt peaceful, beautiful, until the door creaked and I remembered why I was here in the first place.
A girl, about 16 years old, stepped out onto the porch, an angry red line on her neck standing out against her pale skin. She had kind eyes, eyes that were the window to a sad and desperate soul.
"They finally sent you, huh?"
I nodded, my mouth open in disbelief.
"Anything to say? Wanna, maybe.. I don't know, ask me something?"
I swallowed, tears were starting to spill.
"Oh sweetie, its alright. There's no reason to cry." She left her spot on the porch and approached me quietly. Not even the leaves under her shoes made a sound as she stepped closer. She held out her arms and I flinched away.
"Yeah, I knew that was gonna happen. Might wanna get rid of that awful flinching before your parents find out."
"What do you mean?" My throat felt dry and it was hard to speak. "Why are you so young? What happened?"
"Talkative now, are we?" I nod, fast. I want answers. "Well, I can't tell you much. You and I both know that, but I can tell you that it's not your fault. It never was and it never will be."
"What do you mean?"
She didn't answer, instead reaching forward and tracing an invisable jagged line across the middle of my neck. A line like hers.
"Tell someone what's happening at home." And I couldn't believe it. One of the rules we had was that we couldn't tell our younger selves about anything that could affect the outcome of our deaths.
Her hands started to fade, pale fingers melting to reveal the mixture of green grass and weeds beneath them.
"A teacher, a friend. Not your cousins or uncles. They won't be able to help you in time." Her arms went next and looking down I realised her legs were almost completely gone. "Don't make the same mistake I did, ok? Please, please look for help." And as her chest started to dissapear as well, I finally reacted.
"No, no you can't leave, I need you! I need your help!" I tried to grab her shoulders, her shirt, her neck, face, hair, anything to keep her with me, but it all melted into nothing beneath my fingers. I was left alone in front of a house that belonged to a girl who never existed. As more tears finally started to make their way down my face, I woke up.
I was alone in an office. They won't expect me to be awake for another two hours or so. I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.
She gave up her life to make sure I got a happy ending.
My heart sank as fear rose in my chest.
She gave her life for nothing. | 2021-03-27T15:23:22 | 2021-03-27T14:23:59 | 46 | 29 |
[WP] We had always thought that our ballistic weaponry was going to be ineffective in staving off an alien invasion. Turns out our weapons are actually quite... excessive. | Earth was our target. A giant planet full of resources to plunder. We left our homeworld with our best weapons and millions of our best soldiers. Recon showed that the humans had built millions of great spaceports similar to what we had on the homeworld. Given our planet was 95 percent water, this was extremely lucky as we did not have to land our water based fleet in an unpredictable sea. However, when we landed on our chosen port, we were met with only pain. The water had quickly eroded through our ship hulls. Our men began to disentegrate. No one was spared from death. An invasion force decades in the making, gone in an instant. I being among the command ship hovering above did meet the same fate. I returned here to tell you this tale. A warning to those who seek to invade Earth.
Bryan eased the gate open of the Smith's backyard with his bag of chemicals and testers in hand. When he came to the pool he found it green. He sighed. "I knew I should've added more Chlorine." | Anna knelt and felt the alien's temple, a small thready pulse clear even through her combat gloves. It eight eyes followed her every movement, a look of what in a human could pass for fear grimased its mandibles as she quickly set about assessing the concusive damange. With precise, delicate movements she gently undid the air gap locks on the chitin armour, making sure the equalise the pressure as best she could. Rushing air moved into the created cavity, and it let out what she assumed was a whince as Earth's air pressure made its self felt.
A gruff voice sounded over her shoulder, "You sure you can keep this one alive? Last four suffocated and the Major wants this one for the brass."
Taking a deep breath, Anna looked up at the Corpsman leaning a bit too close, and nodded. "I think so. The bullets look like they only winded it, but I want to get it back to the medical tent to be sure."
Four marines milled around the shattered remains of what passed for an invader MRAPP, two posing for a selfie next to a pulped body. For all her time spent with the grunts since her activation, she marvelled at their ability to simply goof in the down time. That image would probably get back to the folks back in the States once the brass finally dealt with the comms jamming, so for now it was just them seeing alien jam spread halfway across the Russian steppe.
"You think they would learn by now, soft and squishy means Marine boomsticks." The Corpsman laughed at his own joke. "Fuck, its like they expected sticks and stones or somesuch."
It took effort for her not to audibly groan, their jokes were worse than her dad's, but it got them all through. "First Platoon's medic told me these fuckers can survive without six of their limbs, but fire a 30 cal into their chest and they just collapse." She finished up removing the damaged armour. "Just about done. It's stablised and those four can get a shift on."
The marines stepped up, busily hoisted the stretched, and hustled to the waiting Blackhawk. As it lifted off Anna followed it as long it was in view, psyching herself up for the next minutes and hours in the line. Soft and squishy was all good, but the Marines still had to do the dirty work. | 2021-05-19T06:55:26 | 2021-05-19T05:06:14 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] After a long shift at work, a manager you don't recognize pulls you aside into a conference room. After closing the door, he applogizes. "I realize this is breaking immersion some, but the devs wanted to ask realistic the simulation is. Not many users go though the long grind paths." | “Huh?”
For a short second Ronald didn’t understand. His face was a true look of confusion as he stared back at the manager, a short black haired man in a crisp black suit with a long skinny cigarette dangling between his thin lips. After an even shorter second reality flooded his memories and he suddenly remembered who we was, where he was and how he had got there.
“It’s incredible sir, for a while I even forgot I was inside the simulation, I felt like like I was a real worker wasting his life away at an endless job staring at a screen, the desperation, the depression, the feeling of being so alone it all felt so real.”
The manager said little but a grunt, remembering a lesson his mother had taught him about getting what he wanted out of people and Ronald clumsily fell for the trick continuing to speak solely to break the silence, “In fact I didn’t notice the sim until a few seconds after you broke the immersion effect.”
“So the immersion effect was successful?”
“Yes sir it was a massive success,” suddenly a thought came to him, “how long have I been down here?”
The manager puffed at his cigarette and flicked it even though they were inside, “Do you really wanna know?”
Ronald started thinking and looking down at his feet but before he could answer he heard the manager turn and coldly say, “Go back to work.”
Just as fast as his memories had flooded back into his head they now left him. He tried with all his mental capacity to hold on to the mental images of his wife and her beautiful long brown hair, of his daughter and her olive skin, of himself, James Forester, a tester at Bluelight Industries.
Or was he Ronald?
Ronald Reed.
Was that his name? Of course that was his name, he must have got lost in his thoughts while he was day dreaming. What was he day dreaming about again?
For a second he saw a faint mental image of a beautiful woman with long brown hair and of a small girl with olive skin and as desperately as Ronald tried to cling to those mental images they faded away.
Only one thought flowed through his now empty mind. The words of the manager, himself now long forgotten.
Go back to work.
And so Ronald returned to work and to the tedious, boring and depressing life of the corporate worker bee, not knowing that in fact he was living in a simulation.
The first successful test of a human living in a simulation for 10 years.
Back in reality the once black haired manager stepped out of his simulation pod as a graybeard, much older than he seemed in the sim, his crisp black suit now replaced by a doctors coat.
He clutched at his knees catching his breath as he glanced around the room at the various executives and government agents that had gathered around him.
One stepped forward, “Well Doctor?”
The graybeard looked up at him, “It’s ready.” | After a long shift at work, a manager I don't recognize pulls me aside into a conference room. After closing the door, he apologizes. "I realize this is breaking immersion some, but the devs wanted to ask how realistic the simulation is. Not many users go though the long grind paths and you've been in here a while."
"No problem" I tell him. He is clearly a gamer like me. I also enjoy a good roleplay so I go along with it. "This world is wonderful, you have nothing to worry over. Shall we return to the Eversky?" I say in the most ceremonious way I can.
"as you wish my king" is his reply.
We pull out our helmets. He helps me put mine on and then attaches his own. Seconds later the pulsers flare as we sync our minds to the game.
My eyes open to an empty throne room. Red tapestries adorn the walls and large white pillars line the walkway to me. I sit there in a daze adjusting to the slight differences between the game and the real world. I move to call out to my daughter and wife but of coarse they are back at home in our house in the suburbs.
A man dressed fully in a golden plate forged by star fire marches into the room. Trailing him are four more men, military types but dressed much more plainly. They are dragging a woman and child down the long path towards me.
"My liege!" the golden man proclaims as he reaches my stoop. "Milgar is dead. His government lies in ruin and those loyal to you are avenging your loss against his people as we speak. I flew to you my king to bring you his wife and daughter, so they may answer for his crimes."
I must have left in the middle of a quest. It seemed near the end, but still I felt little energy to continue.
"What shall we do?" I ask him hoping for some guidance on how to continue.
"There is no question my king, they must be killed as an example. I know you have a kind heart but there is no room for hesitation. You must be seen to be strong."
Ah yes, it starts to come back to me. The game is to take power and keep it. Control is my score and every character I bind to my will makes me stronger.
The little girl cries softly and I think of my darling daisy. They are of a similar age, both with long brown hair and eyes as big as stars. For a few moments I hesitate, and even the air feels like it's waiting for something, but she is not real. This is a game and her tears were constructed. She is a figment to purpose to me the idea of mercy. That is the game, I must be strong. My darling daisy is real and no simulation could ever match her.
"Do it" someone whispers behind my hand. It holds my face because I am so tired. I'm not sure why I even play this game when I have no energy to give it.
A muffled sound comes from in front of me but I ignore it. The decision is done. I must prepare for the next quest. Then.. ringing out loud in beats like a drum I hear the little girl weeping. Her voice shakes my chest and I feel her tears streak my face. I look up and her silent eyes stare back at me. Footsteps sound the soldiers retreat and I am left alone with her crying. I'm not sure how long I sit with the sound there but I know that time has passed.
The quest is done and I am stronger for it. Perhaps I'll start another tomorrow but for now I must return to reality. I am much more tired than I thought of this game and I have trouble remembering why I play it. I put on the helmet and activate the trigger.
My senses flare as I return to my workplace. For a moment I was someone important, but now I am back to myself. My break is over and I return to the counter to find a line waiting. Some customers are difficult and rude but most I give simple concessions and they thank me for it wishing me the best.
As I pull up to my house I see my wife is waiting. Her and my darling daisy run out to greet me. I hold them in my arms as I remember the dark game and wonder again why I play it. | 2021-07-29T12:18:15 | 2021-07-29T12:01:53 | 79 | 34 |
[WP] The house you just rented is beyond compensation - staircases and extra floors coming and going, rooms rotating and changing places. You just ignore it. On the fourth day, the eldritch horror informs you that you are the first to stay inside it for more than 72 hours without going insane. | *"How are you still here, mortal? I have been tormenting your kind since you first sought shelter in caves. None have endured two nights of this torment, and yet you remain?!"*
"Oh hey, so I guess you're the landlord. Any chance you could look at the plumbing? I found this dope bathroom yesterday that was somehow outside and at night, and the stars kept moving, but the water temperature was kinda janky?"
*"You bathed in the Waters of Um'slaad, and survived? Were you not beset by phantoms of your past bent on your unmaking?"*
"I mean yeah man; it was a bit strange. But the last place I had the hot water had been out for like a month, so I'll take what I can get. The cockroach situation in the kitchen isn't exactly ideal either, but at least these ones could talk; we've made a deal about leftovers and they seem pretty chill."
*"You've made an... arrangement with the Leng Roach King?"*
"I guess. Look, it's obvious that this place is a bit of a fixer upper, but dude, I work retail. A place like this on the upper east side that I can afford by myself? I’d expected it to be some weird scam or organ harvesting operation. I see weirder stuff than infinitely long corridors and carpets made of tongue by 9.30 most days."
*"I can see your mind unfolded like one of your pathetic two-dimensional maps. I see the tattered edges and holes burned of madness as landmarks on the city of your soul. And yet you are sane? This is not possible. "*
"Like I said dude, I’ve worked retail for ten years. If you can’t keep it together then you won’t make it past the first holiday. I can fit the whole of my last apartment inside that room with the curved floor and huge sphere of mercury, I can walk to work, the other roommates only want to drink my blood occasionally, and I won’t have to sell any of it to pay the rent… this is a sweet deal dude. "
*"This cannot be. You are anathema! Leave this place, and never return!"*
"No way dude. I know my rights. You are the one who put a snake eating itself in the shape of the infinity symbol in the term of the rental agreement. I’m paying $450 a month till I’ve got enough put aside to buy a place, and in this economy that could be a while. If you don’t like it, you can file a complaint with the rent control board and find out what true existential horror is like." | **Overall experience: ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆**
Nestled in the heart of Charlesburg, this place seemed perfect for a nice weekend getaway. This might be TMI but I’ve been especially stressed out recently, fighting with my wife and all that. “You need to need to get your life together, start taking your meds, stop stalking me, blah blah blah.” So I was really just looking to relax and lay low.
My three days here were not “relaxing” in the least. Note to everyone reading this – you’re only renting one room, not the whole place. That definitely threw me off at first, but in the end that was actually one of the best things about this place; what it lacks in zen it makes up for with amenities and corroborators. Mostly. Everyone’s great except Dorothy. If I could give her a review it would be no stars, maybe negative stars.
**Location: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★**
I can’t comment much on the surrounding area as I didn’t get out much, but it was the closest location near my house which made it ideal for a “staycation” hideout.
**Check-in: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆**
The check-in experience was rough. The secretary, Dorothy, was quite insistent that I lie down as soon as I reached the front counter, which I realize sounds like great service, but it’s not so great when the bed has wrist restraints. In fact, I felt very discriminated against. She said something about a policy against people with fresh blood on their hands, but I think that was just an excuse.
Anyway, expect some rough handling by the staff when you arrive. My pro tip for when you’re locked into a rolling bed is to make sure you bring earbuds to listen to music or something, and a knife. It was only dumb luck that I still had mine on me.
Good thing I had it, too, otherwise I don’t know what I would have done once they rolled me to my room. It would have been much more difficult to cut myself free and slaughter my attendees. Put that knife on your packing list now!
**Cleanliness: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆**
All-in-all, I’d have to say this place was impressively immaculate when I arrived. Taking one star off since it look them longer to clean up the bodies than I would have expected.
**Amenities: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★**
Wow did this place have some serious amenities, though that may only be because I grabbed an all-access pass off the staff. Would highly recommend the upgrade.
Anyway, now I finally had a chance to explore.
There was a terrified, blood-curdling screaming in the room next to mine, so that was a natural place to start. It strangely reminded me of my wife’s, but I’m sure that’s just me being sentimental. I scanned myself into the room and saw an attendee in white coat trying to inject another guest. What an outrage! I took care of him and cut the woman free.
To thank me, she grabbed some pills out of an orange bottle on the counter and offered them to me. Never one to refuse a gift I took them. This is when things started to get weird.
Together, we rampaged through the nearby hallway, freeing other guests and slamming down more pills. Soon enough, there more than a dozen of us going on one helluva trip. Assuming drugs count as amenities, easily five stars. I would have been nice to know if we’d be charged for them though.
**Communication: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆**
Bad, bad, bad communication. I really don’t understand why building management felt the need to communicate with us through demands announced over a police-car megaphone. “Come out with you hands up” and all that. Seriously, rude. Not once did they try asking nicely.
**Value: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆**
All in all, not a great value and no transparency in pricing. While the charges never showed up on my credit card, I was charged with the murder of my wife and four providers at the Charlesburg Asylum.
__
If you liked this, go ahead and join me at r/stealthystorkstories | 2022-05-29T10:10:04 | 2022-05-29T09:33:36 | 226 | 64 |
[WP] The house you just rented is beyond compensation - staircases and extra floors coming and going, rooms rotating and changing places. You just ignore it. On the fourth day, the eldritch horror informs you that you are the first to stay inside it for more than 72 hours without going insane. | Steve was getting kinda used to the new house he had, sure the sink had eaten his lunch one time and the stairs started forming 4d non euclidean structures, but as a theoretical mathematician Steve didn't mind them, plus nothing is perfect.
"HOW DARE YOU RETAIN YOUR SANITY FROM THIS DOMAIN MORTAL!"
Steve stood still as an abomination of circular squares and uneven geometries made of impossible lights rose from the ground and the tubes, then he realised what was happening
"So I think that you're the entity that lies out of space that the strange girl that sold me the house was advertising"
"ADVERTISING, I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND THE IMPLICATIONS OF MY EXISTENCE, I AM THE ANTITHESIS TO YOUR COMPREHENSION OF REALITY"
"Oh, you mean a differential manifold, I started studying you when I arrived and I m so impressed of being able to see an infinite dimensional space, I already studied the group structure that the corridors make when they rotate, it's the monster group right?"
"ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOUR TINY HUMAN INTELLECT CAN COMOREHEND OUR TRASCENDENTAL NATURE, THIS AMAZES ME MORTAL, BUT WHAT ARE THOSE PUNY NAMES YOU RE CALLING ME BY"
"Don't you dare calling my 10 years of experience plus a PhD in differential topology a tiny intellect, do you even know how stressful the academic world has become?
However if you don't know what I am saying I could have fun teaching you, so you'll know what you are"
"YOUR LITTLE BARGAIN INTERESTS ME HUMAN, but honestly I m more of a liberal arts person, I am not much into math you know, stop being a nerd"
"Ok but could you please show me the leech lattice you make again, pretty please"
"I HATE YOU MATH NERDS"
This is the first story I write here and as a mathematician the title inspired me, ya know math has its eldritch horrors too | I did once promise that I’ll go through hell for cheap rent. Though I’ve never actually stepped foot in hell, my new house felt like a decent enough approximation.
On the seventh time today where I failed to step into my bedroom, whether it was because of an ever-extending floorboard, a door that refused to open into the correct room, or a mysterious curtain that liked to flop itself over my eyes, I decided to just stay in the kitchen for a glass of ice-cold water.
It was unfortunately warm. Closer to searing hot, but I shrugged and gulped it down anyway. Putting ice in it would have barely made a difference.
I watched the stairs move, up and down, before inverting itself and floating away. The living room shifted slightly closer, which I appreciated for a brief moment to glance at the television, before the doorway to form into the shape of a mouth, splitting screams emanating from them.
I instinctively placed my hands over my ears. I’ve learned how to deal with eardrum busting shouts the first twenty times it happened.
“Human! Human!”
I’ve not yet encountered clear words enunciating in my brain, however, though they should be muffled.
“Er,” I said .”I suppose I am.”
“You hear me in your mind?” the living room said, distorted door frame lips moving up and down like heatwaves in the air.
“Yes. Too clearly, but yes.”
“Human. I am exceedingly curious,” the living room continued to move its lips, though the sound that arrived in my mind was clearly distinct. “This is the fourth day of you tolerating this abode. And yet, you remain sane. No tying yourself to something. Or stapling your ears shut. Not even a brief mental breakdown where you roll around the floor!”
“That’s a strong definition of the word,” I said. “But you’e right. This situation should be untenable.”
“Wait, no,” the abominable living room said. “What’s your secret? How are you not insane? I always liked the rolling on the floor part.”
“Rent is expensive,” I shrugged. “It’s pretty cheap here. Though I see why.”
“How do you take such things in stride, human?”
“The house is kind of insane, yes,” I said. “But it’s all just flashy visual tricks. Sure, I can’t go into my room, which is frustrating, but at least they aren’t trying to actively hurt me.”
“I am trying to hurt you,” the voice continued, disappointment drooping from each syllable.
“Not like the one I’m used to,” I smiled. “I’m living alone. That’s a good thing. Or, well, I guess I have a roommate now.”
“... You will tolerate me?”
“I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding,” I said. “Are you some sort of superpowered thing?”
“I’m an eldritch god!”
“That’s cool. I’m a cashier,” I said. Should I hold out my hand? Will the living room suddenly sprout hands? I decided against it.
“Nice to meet you, roomie.”
“... Nice to meet you, not-insane human.”
“Like I said, strong words,” I said, “Now, would you please let me into my room?”
“What do you have to do, anyway?”
“Medication,” I said. “Lots of them.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-05-29T11:45:54 | 2022-05-29T10:49:47 | 59 | 29 |
[WP] "And how many claws does Stewie have?" you ask your daughter as you consult the list your mother gave you. You need to figure out if your daughter's invisible friend is a monster, demon, or fairy and if you have to kill it to save her. | When you’re a mother, seeing your kids catch whatever’s
going around is to sort of be expected. Though, most mothers only have to deal
with fevers and colds and the usual sick stuff. My daughter catches something a
little… different. Every couple of months or so, Elizabeth will come home from school
or the playground with a big smile on her face. It’s an expression I’ve come to
dread, because it also means an arrival of one of her new “friends”. Their names
are different each time. We’ve had Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Dave (still shudder
with that one) and others, but most of the time they don’t do much except cause
some annoyances for a few days. I eventually find the right ritual to cast and banish
them to the plane of existence they came from. Elizbeth is sometimes shaken by
seeing the literal pits of hell open up in our bedroom and watching the entity be
swallowed into the never-ending pit of damned souls, but a juice box and cookie
usually distracts her enough to forget.
However, something weird happened with the newest one.
It was like routine at this point, sitting her down to fill out
the checklist to narrow down what kind of thing we’re dealing with.
“Okay Izzy, can you tell mommy how many eyes that show the
universe does this one have?”
“They got none, mommy.” She said while shaking her head.
“Are you sure? They always at least have a couple.”
“Yeah. He’s just got two blue eyes right here!” Elizabeth exclaimed
while pointing to her left. “I think they’re kinda prettier than my brown.”
“Your eyes are just fine sweetheart. And how about claws? Wasn’t
that last friend made of nothing but those?”
“Yeah, but this one doesn’t even have any. Right here. Just
two arms.”
I began to become more agitated and even a little scared as
we kept going. I had gotten so used to her describing eldritch abominations,
that I was totally taken back of how mundane she described it. There were no tentacles
or wings, or those creepy slimy tongues, to be heard of. It sounded it was just
like… a boy, about her age.
And even weirder, it barely caused any trouble. I wouldn’t
have even known it was there if Elizabeth didn’t keep insisting on changing
seats during dinnertime or our tea parties. She told me the boy kept wanting to
“switch places” from wherever he was sitting.
It had been about a week at this point, and none of the
rituals or ideas I had seem to be working. I almost considered just letting the
boy be since he was barely causing a nuisance. And looking back, I can’t believe
I ever thought that.
I awoke in the middle of the night to a loud crash from the bathroom.
I rushed in to see Elizabeth on the floor, surrounded by broken glass. She was unconscious,
but fortunately she was still breathing. But, when we she finally woke up at
the hospital and opened her eyes, my heart dropped.
Her eyes were blue now.
I have tried everything at this point to cast out what I
assume is some kind of possession, but nothing has been useful. The… it, in my
daughter acts like the cheerful Elizabeth when we’re out in the public. But when
we’re alone, it’s cold. its eyes piercing as it watches me from the stairs. I’ve
played along for the time being, so I don’t tip it off, but when it gives me
that occasional smirk, I think it already knows.
Just yesterday, it came back from the school holding on to
the air. It squinted those cold eyes, and for the first time since that night, I
saw my daughter give a wide smile and talk to me in a cheerful tone.
“Mom, this is Elizabeth. She’s my best friend!”
r/HectorHoltz | # Soulmage
**When life gave you demons, you made demonade.** After a Demon of Empathy had inflicted half of the students of the Silent Academy for Witches with visions of power and offers of deals, Witch Aimes took it upon herself to turn the entire experience into a teachable lesson. She was, after all, my tutor at the Silent Academy; I wouldn't be surprised if she responded to her daughter crying about a boy being mean to her with "and what did we learn from this?"
"What did 'Stewie' look like when he showed up in your dreams?" Witch Aimes asked.
Her daughter sniffled on stage, rubbing her nose. "Big. Tall. Lotsa muscles."
"Was he a human?" Witch Aimes asked. The elf in the audience cleared his throat, and Witch Aimes amended her statement. "Or, that is, was he a person?"
"He *looked* like a people," Tisei said, although a hint of doubt had entered her voice. "Except... except at the end."
"Go on," Witch Aimes prompted. Tisei kicked her dangling legs back and forth; the chair she was on was too tall for her to even touch the ground.
"He said I had... re-*sent*\-ment," Tisei enunciated, not meeting her mother's eyes.
"About what?" Witch Aimes asked, raising an eyebrow. *What could you possibly have cause to be resentful of,* her posture seemed to say. *I supply you with everything I could ever need.*
Witches used emotions like fires burned fuel. I'd gotten good at reading the subtext behind my witchcraft teacher's words.
"He said my momma doesn't love me," Tisei whispered. "That she cares about being right more than being a momma. He said... he said he could fix that. If I let him in."
The auditorium fell silent.
Then Witch Aimes shattered the silence with a contemptuous snort. "See?" She asked. "This is exactly the danger these demons pose. To a strong-willed mind, their words mean nothing—but to an impressionable child, a demon can easily corrupt them with falsehoods and foolish ideas. Keep an eye on your children, and if they start spouting any such nonsense, bring them to me."
Tisei looked down, expression unreadable, and I winced. The Demon of Empathy wouldn't have whispered those insidious words if there wasn't a sickly vein of truth feeding them.
But no matter how much of an arrogant little prick she was, she was also the only witch here who'd stood up to the Demon of Empathy themself and *won*. So we all had to listen to her, if only a little.
"And now for a demonstration." Heh. Demon-stration. "Demons of Empathy strike by creating an emotional connection between themself and the victim." Privately, I agreed that her daughter was a victim, although of who, the jury was still out on.
"But connections go both ways," she continued, and here her gaze grew fierce. The audience leaned in, and I couldn't blame them. Because even if Witch Aimes was a self-righteous jerk, she was *our* self-righteous jerk. The Demon of Empathy had hurt us all, and we wanted to know how to fight *back*. "That connection can, with the right knowledge, be reversed. Our top witches are still working on ways to strengthen it beyond its original form, but for now, we can at least manage to speak *back* to the demon, in the same way it's spoken to us."
Witch Aimes lowered her voice, and for a moment, it was as if the stage didn't exist. As if it was just her and her daughter, and for all the faults in their relationship, a mother and daughter they still were.
"The one who hurt you. You can say anything you want to them, or nothing at all. I give you this power, to do with what you will."
I felt something travel from Aimes' soul to her daughter's, and Tisei pressed herself closer to her mother's form, eyes squeezed shut.
Then she whispered, "You were wrong. My momma *does* love me. In her own, silly way."
The words rippled out through the world, and I knew that somewhere, someone who'd just been struck the first blow of a long war was listening.
Aimes smiled, and for a heartbeat, I thought I saw something relieved in her gaze. "I love you too, poppy."
Then she leaned back. "That concludes today's lesson on demonology," Witch Aimes, said, straightening up as if nothing had happened. "I'll see you again tomorrow—and don't forget to read chapters eight through twelve of *Defense against Demons.*"
The class filed out, sluicing around me as I sat in thought.
I'd been spoken to by the Demon of Empathy as well.
And I had a thing or two I wanted to say back.
"Witch Aimes?" I asked, raising my hand. "Could you show me how to cast that spell?"
A.N.
Let me know if you want a part 2.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-06-01T08:57:30 | 2022-06-01T07:14:30 | 217 | 101 |
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples. | I feel the energy dissipate around me.
We left Holy Terra as twelve but here I arrive as one.
Radio silence.
Strange. But stranger still, we identified this planet as barren, yet I stand upon a forest floor.
Dozens of green dots dart across my scanner's display. Movement?
None move towards my position,
they weave and zig-zag before moving out of range, only to be replaced by more.
Advanced Scan.
A lock is acquired on one of them.
Identified - Organic.
How can this be. I stare for a moment at the light beaming down from above the canopy and ask myself, "Where are my brothers".
The trees seem to be more dispersed to the East, perhaps they sought to leave this forest. As I move, my scanner shows the life-forms keep well away from me,
they fear the sound of the splintering branches, the hiss from the pneumatics of my power armor, their green world invaded by an adamantium clad servant of the Emperium.
The Emperor protects.
I walk nigh 30 minutes before noticing the further I travel the more the trees seem as though they are wilting, the life leaving them. There are no more life-forms within range now, the forest floor has become akin to a scab,
crusted and black, in the places the scab is broken, a thick yellow liquid oozes from the soil.
Unidentified - Origin unknown.
I suspect the taint of The Warp.
Chaos.
Cursed heretics, I can only imagine the fate of my brothers at the hands of-
INCOMMING COMMUNICATION.
A familiar voice utters my name. "Brother Marcus, at last you reach us"
I pass the final sickened tree. Now I see this green world for what it really is, this land is featureless, the earth is scorched and bubbling for as far as I can see, What madness befell this planet?
"Do not falter brother" - The voice returns, but not through my communicator. I glance to my right and there they stand. Two space marines, over the corpse of a large alien beast. One is without his helmet, his power armour has seen battle, eyes fixed on me - Brother Gaius.
The other dons his full power armour, he places his foot on the dead creature's neck as he rips his power sword from its abdomen, spilling its insides. I recognize the purity seals emblazoned on his armour - Brother Quintus.
However, I am still confused. "Where are our brothers" I ask. "They will come" replied Gaius, staring into the forest, "in time" he adds. Brother Quintus silences my thoughts - "We stand until our brothers arrive", pointing to the sky.
Far above the planet, I see the dark shapes take form, they seem to splinter in the sky, the splinters burn red as they breach the planet's atmosphere. Hive ships.
"Damned Xenos" I growl.
The splinters impact in the distance, one at a time, even from here we see the horde of filth rip forth from their confines, their hollow eyes and razor talons. Hundreds. The screeching begins as the swarm begins to gravitate towards us, the sound is only too familiar.
I check the magazine on my Bolt Pistol then tear my Chainsword from its sheath.
Brother Gaius coolly charges his Multi-Melta whilst Brother Quintus raises his Power Sword and steadies himself.
"We stand until our brothers arrive".
| 2106 CE
Planet Lares, on the borders of Confederation Space
Thirteen men stood before a gray alloy ring rising out of a perfectly square platform of fused stone. They were an elite squad of Confederation Space Marines, led by Staff Sergeant Jackson, and they were about to become the first humans to transit a dimensional wormhole to another world and in doing so usher in a new age of faster space exploration. The three fire teams consisted of personnel who had been specially trained and equipped for planetary exploration and data gathering.
The dimensional portals were poorly understood by scientists, but seem to be an ancient civilization's manipulation of natural phenomena rather than a pure creation of their technology. Automated probes had already transited the portal and returned, proving that they were instantaneous, apparently limited to point to point and that the planet on the other side of this one was habitable. Data from the probes supported the natural phenomena working theory put forth by the Sako-Callahan corporate eggheads who were sent from the Central Worlds when the portal had been discovered.
The phenomena appeared to only allow matter to transit both ways, radio waves could return but not be transmitted from this side. It was one of the stranger effects and two of the science team had broken out in a fist fight over different theories. The practical effect had become that automated exploration would be of limited use. Custom probes could do a lot, but in an Earth like environment a human being was much more flexible. Also, cheaper and more readily accessible from any of the naval vessels orbiting the planet.
Sergeant Jackson looked at PFC Baxter who'd just finished settling his gear. Baxter was a good troop, scout trained and steady in a fight. He didn't take chances and followed orders. In short, the perfect point man for something like this.
"Baxter," Jackson said, "Are you clear on the orders?"
Baxter nodded and replied, "Transit the portal, advance 10 meters from the platform and observe the surrounding area for no less than 15 minutes. Transmit an update every 5 minutes and an all clear if no hazards are evident. Wait for the rest of the team. If a hazard develops or one hour elapses with no contact, return through the portal."
"Very good. Proceed, private."
The private advanced cautiously to the edge of the portal defined by the alloy ring and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and stepped forwards into the, if not exactly unknown, the not well understood.
It was a pleasant 24ºC on the other side of the portal according to the readouts in PFC Jim Baxter's HUD. Wind was from 240º of his current position at a gentle 7km/h. All in all, it seemed to Baxter like one of the more pleasant worlds the Confederation had encountered. He did a quick visual scan of the area, and noting no immediate threats, advanced to the 10 meter mark and crouched. He watched his suit sensors and watched the mission timer. At the 5 minute mark he transmitted his first update and data packet.
At the 10 minute mark, he deployed a lightweight item from his pack that for reasons lost to time was still referred to as a 'lawn chair'. He also transmitted another update.
At 15 minutes he transmitted his third update, an all clear, and deployed an anti-grav sensor ball. He set the feed to transmit updates automatically at 5 minute intervals and relaxed into his chair.
For the next 45 minutes he watched his data and took the occasional sip from his suit's water supply. He wasn't bored, long training and time spent on slow transports had eliminated that aspect of his personality. Most of the Confederation's Marine troops could remain alert and attentive watching paint dry. It was almost an essential survival skill.
At the one hour mark he frowned. He'd presumed that the rest of the squad would follow on the all clear, but perhaps the eggheads had found something in the data that held them up. He left the sensor on auto and packed up his chair. Still frowning he returned through the portal.
----
2406 CE
Planet Jackson, Sako-Callahan Incorporated World
Staff Sergeant Edwin Jackson blinked as he stepped through to the other side of the portal. The data transmitted by the first probes, and later by PFC Baxter had indicated the area surrounding the portal was a grassy plain. Similar in many respects to Old Earth's Wyoming. What he saw when he stepped out of the portal was entirely different and he clutched his weapon in shock. A vast city of elegant towers rose from the landscape in front of him. At first he wondered if perhaps the portal did link to different locations, then the small group of people at the base of the platform registered.
"Hello, Sergeant Jackson." a tall woman said in what had to be described as a very gentle tone of voice. She continued, "My name is Veronika Wakeman and I'm sorry, very sorry, but I have some bad news for you..."
| 2014-09-02T11:20:25 | 2014-09-02T10:39:27 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] You are a struggling starving writer who is also a mod at WP. You steal the best answers from here and publish a best seller.
EDIT: This post is so meta, it hurts. | *You haven’t written anything for a long time*, the voice in her head taunts.
“I can write whenever I want to!” she defends. “I’m just lacking inspiration.”
*You’re weak. Pathetic. An embarrassment of a moderator.*
“No! No! It isn’t true!” she cries.
*You can fool everyone else, but you can’t lie to yourself.*
She stares at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m not weak!”
*Then prove it.*
She pauses, thinking, before the idea strikes. It would be so simple. Just a click, and a quick copy and paste, and /u/Draxagon would never know.
*Yes. Yes.*
“You think I'm weak? I'll show you who's weak. I'll show *everyone!*”
*MUAHAHAHAHAHA*
| "Just look at this post! I swear this person wrote an entire novel in the comments section. This girl is practically a machine," Alex gestured at her screen desperately. "And meanwhile I have a whole 20 subscribers on my subreddit."
"Oh twenty subscribers? Isn't that up from last week?" Her husband asked casually as he handed her a fruity drink that smelled of booze.
"Not much," she muttered darkly, reading the story. It'd taken her six months to write half as many words, which now sat under a heap of red ink and grammatical errors.
"Well don't worry, darling, I'm sure you'll hit it big eventually," her husband said, landing a kiss on her forehead. "I'm going to bed. Work on your novel!"
Alex sat at her computer in the dark, staring at the story in the comments. ***More coming soon!*** it promised in cheerful bold letters at the bottom.
"Yeah yeah. Screw you and your popularity," she said, another tequila sunrise in her hands. Her cursor hovering over the remove button. Why shouldn't she? The poster would probably never even notice it was gone, she'd posted it so late at night. The prompt had even fallen off the front page already.
In a fit of rage, she clicked the button. *Are you sure? yes / no* flickered into being. *Yes,* Alex thought spitefully as she copy-pasted the work into a fresh word doc. The sun was just beginning to rise as she finished her work, emailing it off to a publisher.
Alex's head pounded by the time she awoke at 2 PM. Her phone was buzzing away, dragging her out of a deep sleep. Dark hair floated around in a tangle her as she pulled the phone beneath the covers.
"Hello?" she asked in a blurry voice.
"Hello Lexilogical," said a strange voice. "We haven't met yet, but I think we're about to become much better acquainted."
"Who's this?" Alex said sleepily. The ominous reply sobered her up quickly.
"This is /u/Luna_LoveWell. I think you and I need to have a little... talk."
--
*Help save Alex's dignity! Subcribe to /r/Lexilogical today!* | 2015-02-05T17:52:52 | 2015-02-05T16:56:40 | 57 | 23 |
[WP] A psychotic alien race invades using a reality distortion field, where imagination becomes a weapon. The government assembles a team of the world's most insane people to fight back. | "Are they all asleep?"
"You'd know if they weren't."
"True. Do you think.. do you think they'll be ok? They're just children."
"I'm more worried that it will provoke the enemy to use something more thorough. A human child that hasn't learned restraint, with the power we're about to bestow upon them, is one thing. But these.. these are otaku, pulled from every culture on Earth. I've worked with Marines, Special Forces, Spetsnaz, I even treated a member of the Yakuza once. Some of them were scary. These children *terrify* me. I don't want to be anywhere in the same hemisphere when they wake up and initiate first contact."
"You can't be serious, they're just children!"
"No fear. No remorse. No morality. We learn these things as we grow old, usually through the painful lessons of adolescence. The oldest of these children is ten. If they weren't so physically weak, and told from birth to be subservient to their parents, I wouldn't trust a one of them with a pair of scissors... and we're about to hand them primal power."
"Jesus."
"Check their dosage, and start distributing those packages into their pods. We'll be air dropping them into occupied territory tonight."
"What's in these?"
"Food. Ipads. Adhoc shortwave mesh network transceivers. Juice boxes. And their primary weapons."
"Weapons? We're giving them weapons?"
"After a fashion."
".. this doesn't look like a weapon. What is it?"
"A pokeball."
"Mother of God." | The alien invasion unfolded much like a story we'd seen countless times before. The aliens employed a distortion field that allowed imagination to be used as a weapon. The world's standing armies fell like dominoes. The masses panicked, and in the chaos, millions died. Desperate, the elders who clinged to power turned to us, the new generation. The same one they had previously despised and actively prevented from acquiring political clout.
Our generation had been ridiculed, dismissed and ignored. We were born alongside the era of console gaming. We learned the value of coins, power ups, and skill leveling faster than we acquired mathematics and writing in school. We were introduced to dystopian lands in need of saving, worlds that blended our present and future, and people perpetually in need of the next great hero to rise up. We fought as peasants. We fought as vigilantes. We trained alone, and as a team. We raised great beasts to stand by our side, willing to fight and die for our cause. As we grew older and our games began to resemble reality, we adapted. As our elders cracked down on us under the guise of conformity and adulthood, we resisted.
And then they asked for our help. With our world on the line, they turned to us. In another universe, perhaps this is merely another fantasy for our minds to explore. But in this universe, the game was now real.
We organized ourselves into groups that we affectionately referred to as parties. For the parties that had only their childhood to draw on, they excelled in mind games with the opposing alien forces, often working alone or in pairs. They thrived in the unconventional. Utilizing seemingly arbitrary systems to engage and defeat their opponents.
Then there were the summoner parties. These groups called upon great magic, along with the beasts, guardians, and demons from their gaming lives. They fought along side their summoned beasts as companions and friends, forging a bond that couldn't be broken no matter the brute strength of the other side.
Next were the gear heads. While a few took the literal meaning for tricked out vehicles, the majority were technologically savvy, using existing military equipment in ways never thought possible, as the distortion field conveniently allowed for the imaginative physics to be similarly ported over. They marched as cohesive units, assuming necessary roles to withstand the onslaught of wave after wave of enemies, in a seemingly never ending cycle.
To challenge the alien leaders though, it took a special group. 5 adult gamers, who built careers around their digital capabilities, versus 5 alien commanders. They selected avatars to represent them in battle, giving them new skills the longer the battle continued. In the end, the human side won. A victory that shall be long remembered, as the human sentinals stand guard to ensure the scourge of the aliens remain hesitant to return.
***Hello, and thank you for reading. This is my first submission ever, and I am open to critiques. Hopefully some of you will even catch the various references I made. | 2015-04-06T17:58:59 | 2015-04-06T17:29:04 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You were lucky to even find a job in this economy--but, after the first few months, you're starting to suspect that you're working for a supervillain. | “Hey Kev, do you ever wonder if what we are doing actually helps people or benefits society in any way?”
“Hell if I care. I just know I get good benefits and all I have to do is sit in front of a computer screen all day. I mean, I could probably get paid more somewhere else, but who knows how long it would take to find another job.”
“I know, but don’t you ever wonder if what we are doing matters? Who even wants the stuff we get? I mean, I’ve been here for close to 4 months now, and I’ve never even seen the guy that owns this place. Our manager just comes in, tells us to run some programs, then we send the data to some ambiguous email address and never hear of it again.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Ed. From what I hear, the less we know the better. There is a tendency for people to get canned for asking too much around here.”
“But don’t you think that’s wrong. I mean, what we do is morally dubious at best. Sure, we aren’t breaking any laws, but don’t other people deserve to know what we are doing. If word got out, people would be furious. Even congress would get involved. There is no doubt in my mind that something is wrong. We need to blow the whistle on this whole thing.”
“Hey Ed, feel free to go all savior mode, but between you and me, telling anyone about this is a good way to lose your job and never find a new one. So just keep it down. I won’t bring it up to anyone, because I like having a job, but if you talk to somebody from the outside, just make sure not to talk about me.”
“Oh, Come on Kev, you know what’s really going on here.”
“Maybe so, but we’re just lowly drones. Hell, we’re technically not even employees here, we’re subcontractors, no one would even care what we had to say. And like you said before, everything we do here is perfectly legal. The boss wouldn’t even get questioned, we would get fired, and the government would come after us. We signed the non-disclosure agreement, remember?”
“I don’t know…maybe I just feel somethings are too important to not say. I mean, the amount of information we have about people, it’s insane! It’s scary!”
“Well, whatever you decide to do, it’s your decision. But, Ed, I really don’t think it matters at this point. The NSA is just too big.”
| Somehow, the Boss (capitol B, you would agree if you've ever spoken to him, or rather, been spoken *to* by him) always managed to keep his face darkened by shadows. Even in his laboratory, which I installed the lighting in for the sole purpose of illuminating every inch of the steel room, the Boss kept his face hidden. He stared at me, causing me to sit down and look away. The only item of note in the lab was a giant egg, so I decided to shift my gaze there. It was new, but I didn't ask.
"Jay." He said, looking to the egg at well. I again turned to him as his attention left me.
"Sir." I replied, not trusting myself to say more. It'd been only two months since I was hired at the Company (capitol C, you understand), but I got a feeling in my gut since I first walked in that disrespecting the Boss wouldn't be a great idea. In the two months I'd been here, I still haven't figured out exactly what the Company did. "Do you like the lights?"
"Hmm?" He turned back, catching my eye, voice sounding as though he'd forgotten I was even in the same room. "Oh, yes. Well done. It's perfect for incubation."
*Incubation*? I blinked. "Thank you, sir."
"Do you know why i called you down here?" He asked.
"No, sir."
"My second-in-command, she had a terrible accident." He turned once again to the egg. "Accidentally fell on a nail gun, got nails in all her joints, fingers, and eventually her skull. Tragedy."
I nodded. "Of course, sir."
The egg shook, a thin and long crack appearing at the top.
"She couldn't quite keep a secret." The Boss said, watching the egg with interest. "You've been in my employ longer than anyone else, Jay."
I cursed under my breath. Two months, longer than anyone else?
"Yes, sir." I watched as the crack spread down to the center of the egg.
"This is my first son." The Boss walked to the egg and made a fist. "I want you, my new second, to see the process."
He pulled his arm back and leaned forward, swinging his arm in a wide arc and landing it in the middle of the egg-shell. His hand went through and he began pulling off pieces of the shell. He spoke as he worked. "My son, he's been implanted with knowledge, *my* knowledge, and he's superior to humankind in every way."
I felt sick as I watched the missing pieces of shell reveal a sleeping and curled up grown man, hairless and naked. His body was heavily muscled, though he lacked a penis or testicles.
"Help me out." The Boss commanded. I obliged, walking to the other side of the shell and pulling off pieces. "What do you think?"
I forced a smile. "He's perfect, sir."
The shell broke completely and the man fell out to the steel floor, waking up with a coughing of liquid. He vomited as the Boss patted him on the back, hard enough to induce more vomiting.
He finished and looked up at the Boss.
"My son." The Boss said. "How do you feel?"
"I," his voice was weak, barely audible, "I, I feel t- tired."
"Sleep," The Boss smiled. "You've earned it."
The man turned and looked at me. Something was *wrong* in his eyes. I couldn't explain quite what it was. they looked unfocused, as though he saw me, but didn't take me into consideration.
Almost instantly, the man's eyes shut and his head dropped to the floor. The Boss caught my eye and smiled, forcing me to return it.
I fought the urge to vomit myself as I thought back to how happy I was to land this job. What a damn fool I was. | 2015-06-08T10:04:41 | 2015-06-08T09:44:38 | 35 | 11 |
[WP] You possess the ability of persistent lucid dreaming. Accompanied by a strange man/woman, together you build a world you revisit every night. One day you see them at a coffee shop. You immediately recognize each other. | "Today, love, this nation is ours. For now, and forever," I told Maya, gripping her hand and smiling with excitement.
She jumped up and down, giggling with glee, and drew Arakh from its sheath. Blue streaks of light danced across rocks as the sun gleamed off her majestic sapphire sword. Without even waiting for me, she'd taken off.
I sighed with exasperation, leaping from the cliffside with Shisu slicing the wind behind me in a blur of jade and gold. *She's always so god damned hasty.*
We cut through flesh and fur as the Verküth army swarmed us pointlessly. They were but putty before our might and blades, and we were sculptors.
"Ah, that was too easy," Maya groaned, covered in thick black blood.
"Well, you designed this one. Don't complain."
She sneered at me and walked toward the slain King's broken convoy, retrieving a golden scroll from his body. We looked to the south, where the sun was setting over a sea of bodies and blackness.
"Tomorrow, I won't go easy on you like this," I told her with a sly smile. "I've got a few ideas that don't involve the measly Verküth and a basic slashing mission. We didn't earn this scroll."
"Come on- it's fun once in a while, isn't it?" She laughed and walked up to me, kissing me goodnight. Or, well, good morning, I suppose.
------------------------------------------------
I awoke in my bed to the sound of an alarm's screech and stretched. *This world is so boring and plain by comparison. Fuck work.*
Even worse, I'd dreamt too long, leaving me poorly rested for the day.
Lunch break couldn't come fast enough for me. I went over to Harry's for a club sandwich and coffee, like I usually do, when I saw her. We locked eyes from across the room and immediately recognized each other. There was no doubt in my mind.
"Hey, Dianne! Long time no see," I joked- we worked in the same department. "You look pretty tired. Long night of partying?" I winked.
"Very funny," she replied, rolling her eyes. "But in a sense, something like that. Pretty intense dreams and stuff. Now get back to work, lazy."
I looked at her quizzically. *I wonder if...*
*Nah. Don't be silly.*
I dragged about the rest of my day as I always do, swinging my pen around in daydream, wishing for nightfall.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/43mjo9/wp_you_possess_the_ability_of_persistent_lucid/czkbwjv)
[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/43mjo9/wp_you_possess_the_ability_of_persistent_lucid/czlsv0t) | I pulled up a chair and sat down at a table in Starbucks with a man I’d never seen in my waking life as easily as if I were tying my shoes. “It’s good to see you. It had been a while.” He was my collaborator. I built the world, and he filled it.
You see, I am a lucid dreamer, but it seems that I am so much more than that, now. I had dreamed for years now, since I was a boy, of great empty expanses, then filled them with land, sea, and sky. I raised mountains, smoothed steppes, and chiseled cliffs. And in my dreams, there was an old man like this one who followed me, building soaring towers and humble villages, and sprinkling animals all over the landscapes and seascapes. He tried to show me how to make a bird, once. He showed me how to fold my hands, how to focus the life and create - but it came out wrong. He took it from me, fixed it, and handed it back.
My collaborator said nothing but reached into the open satchel he had on the floor. He withdrew a clipboard with sheets of various colors and messy handwriting and handed it to me. I read for a while, then handed it back.
He gripped the arms of his chair as if to stand up and tensed them, but nothing happened. Three times he did this, his thin arms shaking with effort, but each time he failed and settled down again. I would have helped him, but I remembered the time I tried to show him how to build mountains. They came out like hills, so I went to wipe them away and let him start again, but he looked at me with lightning in his eyes and spent the rest of the time clearing away and building his own messes.
He fumbled in his backpack again, and withdrew a notepad and pen. With shaking hands he withdrew he scrawled in looping letters a number and a name…an address. Then tore it off and handed me the paper. And slid a key across the table.
Nothing needed to be said between us. No tears needed to be spilled, no last words to say. I pocketed the key and note, nodded to him, and walked to the address I had walked by many times before. It was a worn down house, the only one on the block with peeling paint and battered shingles.
Without any hesitation, I put the key in the front door and turned it, then stepped inside. It was perfectly dark, and I groped along the wall for a switch. I felt one, and flipped it.
Hanging from wires stretched across the room, stacked in piles, tucked in folders and laid out in rows were paintings and sketches of landscapes and buildings, little bits and pieces of the world we’d made. I recognized that jutting cliff from my earlier years - it was overly dramatic and poorly done. But somehow the old man’s castle, exaggerated in its features, fit the land and made it seem right. Perhaps a real artist might beg to differ, but it seemed right.
And there were some I did not recognize. Were these plans, or other worlds he’d made with other people? Were they ambitions, stories, something in between, nothing at all? I never found out. Instead, I looked at them and with the blank paper on the desk in the corner I began to plan out landscapes that would showcase their magnificence, or display their humility.
And after I had spent two feverish days working my soul out, I collapsed in sleep sitting there at the desk. And when I woke up, I walked home, drove my car over, and carefully made several trips back and forth to my house, until the place was empty.
The man died a few weeks later, of cancer. He had been a fairly important member of the community, it turned out. A fairly wealthy man who made sure some of the more mom-and-pop tenants downtown could keep their businesses open in the face of a huge tourism boom. I had never known.
I didn’t go to the funeral. Instead, I stayed at home and worked. Worked, worked, worked. Sketching, erasing, planning, and then going to sleep early, so that I would have more time to enact and improvise on the plans. I had never known the man, but I had known the dreamer, and I honored him the best way I knew. | 2016-01-31T23:21:09 | 2016-01-31T23:08:12 | 435 | 15 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | Storm chasing is a fascinating hobby. Storms are known to move quickly, so the chasers need to, well, chase the storms away from populated areas before they can cause damage. Often chasers will corner the storm into a field, lake, or other underpopulated area. If necessary, they will chase storms out into the ocean, but that's expensive, since it requires special boats and helicopters instead of the standard SCC (storm chaser car).
SCCs are typically 4 wheel drive, powerful trucks with various equipment mounted in the back. Lightning rods, laser pointers to guide the storm (much like a cat), and monitoring equipment. Because they aren't that different from their regular counterparts, SCCs are $5-20K more expensive than their standard counterparts. Often they will have a -S added to the end, e.g. Ford F-150-S
Oftentimes, meteorologists will work directly with storm chasers. We can already accurately predict where a storm will go, so the probability is merely how likely storm chasers are to succeed in chasing away the storm. There have been controversies of storm chasers being paid by weather stations to slack off, and give that station the most accurate results. New laws are being put in place to prevent this, and include heavy regulation, as most storm chasers are government employees.
Edit: stork chasers -> storm chasers | #Title: I Somehow Find, Particles Collide
So you want to build a Large Hadron Collider.
Pretty simple, just gotta build a whole lot of magnetic coils for miles on end.
A whole mess of satisfied physicists then look at each coil, nod to one another like they're all satisfactory, then give the guys who control the electricity the thumbs up. Good stuff, good to go.
You drive a current through that whole bunch of magnetic coils and you create a magnetic field.
Then you go into the forest, all slow and gentle like, and you find yourself a herd of particles.
You won't catch all of them, but you'll get some, if you carry your Large Hadron Particle Catching Net with you. Then put them into your Large Hadron jar, and look at them fly around like lightning bugs.
Bring them back, throw them into the collider, make sure you don't stand too close, and watch them fly like birds through the magnetic coils.
Then some of the particles pick up speed, and though they don't really want to do it, they collide into each other.
[It's necessary that Howie Day sings towards the particles about collisions as you do it too, little known secret.] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olysEGn5vNU)
It's important that his voice and guitar strings create just the right pressure waves in the air to re-direct the particles when they go off course. Upon a more detailed analysis, one realizes the lyrics of *Collide* are really all about the Large Hadron Collider. "I'm tangled up in you" of course applying to quantum entanglement and spooky action at a distance. Most of his music is all about particles colliding, as he's secretly the son of Stephen Hawking and Einstein's clone daughter that the government kept a secret from us all, and as a result Howie Day's a brilliant physicist.
Howie's voice soothes the particles right back into the straight and narrow path headlong into each other. Somebody with a similar voice could get you the same results, but you'd need really complicated software to make sure the sound waves are identical enough for the particles to be happy.
Hold auditions in cities to find Howie Day imitations, and you should be okay.
Once Howie's done singing, the particles clank into each other, and get headaches and concussions.
As a result they start acting kind of quarky, or "quirky," and in the end, they start to do weird things.
Like give brief glimpses into the foundations upon which our universe is built.
Informing our decisions about life, and our conclusions about the nature of existence and the fabric of space and time and reality.
| 2016-02-01T21:44:49 | 2016-02-01T20:52:20 | 80 | 39 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | Dexicon moved his cosmic fortress from Centauri B straight into Earth's orbit. Dexicon was able to do this in one turn thanks to the cosmic paving it had laid earlier. This allowed faster than light travel.
"Your move, God." Dexicon roared, knowing it had the ancient deity in its proverbial palm.
*Shit shit shit* thought God. It was tough to display no emotion but a strong poker face was crucial. Dexicon had already taken Zeermon out the game and had now moved on to God.
God had not been blessed with much luck. Each deity had been given a species that had space travel potential. The objective was to either enslave or obliterate the other species. God had unfortunately randomised the least intelligent possible species - homo.
2.7 million years just to leave the hunter gatherer stage. This was a new record. He had had to wipe out his first few species of homo and start over - they had simply been too stupid. By the time he had rerandomised into homo-sapien he was at least 2.6 million years behind Dexicon.
What didnt help was that the homo-sapiens turned out to be incredibly aggresive. This would be useful for fighting other species, but they mainly killed each other! Oh how Dexicon and Zeermon laughed!
When he had finally researched the abilty to send a vassel to Earth to enlighten and guide the people, the earthlings did something unprecedented in stupidity - they decided to kill it.
Finally the humans became space able. At the time, God was pleased. They visited their local moon first, as expected. But the moon base never came. The colonisation of nearby planets never came. They regressed.
"Using your cosmic paving I move Earth into alpha Centuri B", said God, in a move that would have made the humans proud.
Dexicon's mouth dropped.
"Rematch?" God asked.
--------
If you liked this you can read more on my sub I just set up (come follow me!): /r/nickofnight
| God was getting sick of losing. Even though He was the oldest, He always seemed to come in last. Heck, He was the one who created the freaking game! So why was He always losing? His buddies always seemed to be several steps ahead of Him no matter what He did.
God supposed He wouldn't mind it that much if Deon wasn't such a smug asshole about it. The rest of them were alright, but Deon would always rub it in God's face that He was still in the Archaic Era.
God just didn't understand it. He was easily the kindest player, and He tried to teach His units to be the same, but they always wound up killing each other, usually as soon as they entered the Atomic Era. It's like they always wound up doing the opposite of what He told them to do. God thought this was probably what being a dad with a rebellious son felt like. Wait a minute... a son....
God finally had an idea. Maybe *this* time He could stop his moronic units from killing each other, and then they'd be able to advance! He could already picture the look on Deon's face when His people reached the Intergalactic Era first. It would be so awesome!
God started off the way He normally did, taking His time with technology, focusing more on moral lessons and stuff. Unfortunately, His people still made a few (ahem) "misinterpretations" of His lessons. But God was patient. He waited several hundred years before starting Phase One of His plan. God used a mod He'd been working on, called "Direct Blessing," to upgrade Moses into a Great Prophet. Then He used Moses's power to upgrade his morality points.
God waited many more turns before finally completing His plan. He chose one of his female units whose morality was at 100% and told her He'd be turning himself into a unit, but He needed her help. She agreed, and God's plan finally came to fruition. Unfortunately, He was limited by His status as a unit, so He only had a handful of turns to clarify as many of His moral lessons as possible. God could hardly contain His excitement. This was going to be SO AWESOME.
That is, until He realized there were a bunch of His units who didn't believe He was really their God. Hmmm... He hadn't really thought of that. He didn't even have a way to prove Himself. Oh well. He decided He'd just keep teaching as much as possible. Even if they didn't believe Him, His lessons would still be heard, right?
Aaaaaaand they're hanging Him on the cross. Shit.
Huh. God didn't realize how much being a unit could hurt. I mean, DAMN. Well, at least He could finally prove Himself.
Three days after He died, God came back for just one turn and showed Himself to enough people that He figured they'd believe Him now. He also appeared to some of His best allies from when He was a unit. Then God left the game for good, promising that He'd be back after they'd won the game. He figured that would be enough motivation to keep them from killing each other this time.
After that, God put His units, settlements, and buildings on autowork and decided to take a nap. 2100 in-game years later, God woke up and took a look at what His Civ had accomplished.
...
...
...WHAT THE FUCK, GUYS??? | 2022-09-11T19:19:52 | 2016-04-09T10:10:58 | 1,980 | 13 |
[WP] Suddenly across the globe, large, feathered, rotted corpses begin to drop out of the sky. They are soon identified to be Angels. | "Daddy, what is that?" my daughter ask, her voice quivers slightly as she points her finger towards the sky. I pull her wagon to the sidewalk and snap my head towards where she's pointing.
What in the hell...
There is a corpse falling down at a meteoric speed. It resembles a human; all four limbs motionless as it descends down towards the earth. When it starts closing in on impact, it becomes very apparent that we are witnessing something other worldly.
My adrenaline starts surging through my veins; my body shivers with fear. I scoop my daughter up off her feet and push off the pavement with my back foot with all the force I can muster up and began to sprint to our house.
"Chelsea, take Olive and go in the basement now. Just turn the TV on and stay there! Do not move!" I yell, I can feel the blood in my face dissipate. It must have frightened my wife, my face being that pale and all. Before she can even ask what's going on, I'm already on my way in securing our house.
"Ok, all the doors are locked." I yell down the basement hallway as I sprint by towards the front door, "I'll be back in a little bit!"
I had eyes on where that thing landed. I had an array of feelings hit me as I watched the creature fall lifelessly down towards our earth. One may think I am foolish for jumping to conclusions or making baseless assumptions but I felt an overpowering sensation of happiness hit me. I can hardly begin to explain it but I do know one thing. I have to have some answers.
It was near the old trail off of 72nd. I began to run again, adrenaline still at full blast. It's only a quarter mile down the road past the entrance of our neighborhood, so I get there with a blistering pace. There the creature lies; I can see the golden feathers radiating from thirty feet away.
Euphoria overtakes me again and my body halts to a violent stop. I can't move an inch; I am straining now, every fiber and ligament in my body is trying to push forward. My face feels like it's being smashed flat into a solid brick wall. The pain is excruciating but I can't retreat or advance. I am stuck. My hands slowly lift from my sides and I place my palms on the invisible barrier and exert all my energy into one last push for freedom.
I let out a barbaric scream; a scream that I thought did not exist inside of me.
"Let me help you!"
The creatures eyes shift over towards me, I get stuck in it's mesmerizing gaze. I think it's a female; her eyes twinkle with a swirling mix of blue and gold. They resemble a pupil but not solid; almost like two gases swirling in a crystal ball. Her dainty feet and hands, as well as her face are luminescent and glow a hot bright white; similar to an imploding star. The remainder of her body is covered in enough gold that King Tut would be envious. Each feather emits brilliance from a creator far from this earth.
The barrier ceases now; it must have been a defensive mechanism of some sort.
She begins to open her mouth slowly, the words fighting to come out.
"Human... heaven has forsaken us" she says, the veins in her neck strain and her eyes wince in pain. She is speaking her last words.
"This battle is yours now... Protect your daughter and fight for good."
She saw my child too and she cared enough to speak of us in her last breathe. What is this thing?
Her chest raises a few inches higher than normal as she gasps for her final breath. Her eyes now hollow and empty; the once space like gases of gold and blue that engulfed her eye are gone and now sit lifelessly like two pieces of burnt out charcoal. She stares aimlessly into the sky, as if she is giving her traitors one last look.
We are going to war now.
With who is the question... | On the first day of the New Year, the angels fell from heaven. I mean that quite literally. The winged corpses, whose flesh was rotten and scarred fell from the clouds high above two or three at a time. All over the globe. It was an unnatural phenomenon that began the series of events that would end the world as we know it.
Eight hundred and twenty-two corpses fell the first day. Their corpses taken to morgues all over the world with some of the best medical examiners taking pursuit. They cut them open, plucked their feathers, and took blood some samples. None of the corpses could be identified, they all looked human, besides their wings and their blood was stronger and purer. Evolutionary-speaking, they were thousands of years ahead of the natural, Earth-born human.
On the second day, two thousand and twelve corpses fell. Again, their corpses taken by the government, examined by the medical teams, plucked and cut open. It was decided that these beings, these "Angels," were not of our world and there was something happening to them. A disease, was a suggestion by a World Heath Organization in India, an evolutionary setback, was another by a team in London. War, or some type of battle, was a suggestion by a team in Paris. They believed the corpses had been dead for days, and referenced the scars on their bodies as marks of war.
In the first of many articles published on the manner, they called it, "the dumping of 'heaven,' a foreign area above the clouds that may very well be real, these creatures have died and fallen to Earth."
The third day was the worstt of them all. The rain, which every weatherman across the world had predicted, came in a swift and brutal storm. However, as one might guess after the bodies fall from the sky, the rain was blood. Purest in its form and raining from one end of the world to the other. The rain continued. And it did not stop until the seventh day.
The fourth came with more bodies, falling with the rain. The estimated count was in the thousands and within the first hour, every major country had declared a state of emergency and a curfew. Every so often, I could hear a thud, or a car alarm go off, or even see a body fly by my window from my apartment in London.
I stayed indoors and I shut my blinds, but I let the news still come to me. I kept the TV on and surfed the internet looking for answers.
The fifth day the rain and the bodies continued. Birds were the next. Hundreds of them falling to their deaths from the sky, they hit windows and power lines. Thousands in an hour. Hundreds of thousands by noon.
The sixth day came and it all continued. I tried not to listen. The thuds, the alarms, the sirens and the rain. Outside my window, the world was something I never wanted to see. WHO reported cases of disease within humans, boils of the face of the skin, rashes across the body. They advised people to stay indoors and they told us they were working on figuring it out.
When the rain stopped on the seventh day. The fires started, caused by great storms of lightning. The fires consumed whole forests and smaller ones that consumed apartments and houses until being put to rest. The streets, still flooded and filled with the scent of blood and corpses, were hard to traverse and the little fire fighters who were still working had trouble making it across cities.
I don't quite remember what happened on that day. It all happened so quickly after the power loss. After the rest of the world went quiet, and the darkness came over London and the rest of the world.
I remember hearing about volcanic eruptions all across the globe, including the United States, which covered the world in fog and ash. I remember hearing of disease spread across the livestock, most likely from the blood rain.
To my knowledge, the last body fell on the night of the seventh day. By then, my country had fallen into chaos. Citizens had ravaged stores looking for food and water, others had broken into people's home looking for safety from the storms and the fires. Crime was at an all-time high while police officers and military officials had abandoned their posts to take care of their own families. They were still around, trying to institute law and order, but failing.
On the morning of the eighth day, the world cracked and seized. An earthquake, that had to be the greatest ever felt in my city, rocked us hard and long. It made a scar so long and within the main street that you couldn't cross from one side to the other. I had a view of it from my apartment.
And there, on the dawn of that eighth day, I saw the demons climb from that hole. Their skin was leathery and tough and seemed to burn. As if they were fire and brimstone, and we were the suckers who fell for it all. Only a dozen or so came from the hole, but they were so large and intimidating that everyone, except for the officers that were still there ran. I watched the officers burn. Their faces melted as the demons attacked them.
I fell to my floor and sat on the edge of the wall, just against the window, too frightened and scared to do anything but listen to the screams. It was worse now than ever. And I realized that the world was ending. It had to be ending. Because Hell had quite literally opened and as far as I knew, the angels were all but dead.
______________
*Great prompt! Thanks OP! Check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work.* | 2016-07-19T07:19:31 | 2016-07-19T06:46:24 | 110 | 45 |
[WP] You turn your Match Distance on tinder to "Anywhere". To your surprise you get a match that is 10^93 light years away. Thinking it was a joke you turn it off. 20 minutes later you turn it back on and it says they are 10^5 light years away and getting closer. | *Um.. Hello?*
**Hi. :)**
*Uh. so. 10^93 about 20 minutes ago and now your at 10^5.*
**Yeah?**
*Not sure where that is.*
**I'm not sure what its called on your system. I mean, I can check.**
*No that's okay.*
**I mean, I have Googzawl Universe here. I don't mind the data usage.**
*No no I*
*Wait what*
**I mean. Oh jeez. You don't think I'm actually getting closer because you swiped right on me do you??**
*Well I wasn't sure.*
**OMZG lol I'm so sorry I didn't want to come off as pushy anything hahaa.**
*lol ok*
**No no, I actually have to stay mobile for work. See, if you check again you'll see I've moved again.**
*oh yeah! now your 10^73 haha*
**Yeah I just left the Rhosnosaw System. Ugh. I hate that system. You ever been?**
*Uh. No.*
**Your not missing much. Kinda uppity neighborhood. Well, not like they will be anymore. So you like Tarantino movies too huh? You like Jackie Brown?**
*Shit yeah! I love Pam Grier! She is so foxy!!*
*Wait wut do you mean about 'not like they will be anymore'?*
**Honestly, I think Robert DeNiros performance in it was really understated and one of the subtle points that really makes the film shine.**
**Plus I laughed my ass off when Chris Tucker got his ass shot dead LOL SUPAH GREEN LOL**
*nono what do you mean 'not like they will be anymore.'?*
**Oh. Um. Right so..**
**See, you seem really nice and I kinda like talkin with you ..**
**Plus your really cute in your pic. I love gingers!!**
*Thanks?*
**I just don't wanna creep you out. And my job is kinda weird and keeps me super busy and stuff. It makes staying in any kind of long term relationship hard.**
*Really?*
**Yeah. Its kinda why I'm giving Tinder a try.**
*I really liked it when Chris Tucker got shot too.*
**heeheeheee I know right? 'I aint gittin in no goddaym trunk!!'**
*hahahahahahahah*
*I work at a Gas Station. I work graveyard shifts. My boss treats me like shit. My customers are either all hookers, junkies or bastards. I get paid minimum wage, but this is just until I get back into college.*
*I know what its like to have a shitty job that does't let you get out to meet people*
**Oh. That is so terrible. I'm sorry to hear. What are you going back to school for?**
*Advanced Astrophysics. I just ran out of tuition. My parents kinda cut off my money.*
**When my Dad found out what I wanted to do with my life, he kinda did the same, actually. Then he died.**
*I'm sorry.*
**Its okay. He shot first.**
*wait wat*
**Look. I guess no dating experience goes well without total honestly.**
**I'm kinda.. a bit of a pirate.**
*like.. you download movies?*
**No. As in I have a fleet of Light Assault Frigates and we warp from system to system ravaging entire planets of their natural resources.**
*Oh.*
**Yeah.**
*Good dental coverage?*
**Better optical coverage. ;)**
*.. was that a pun about eye patches?*
**I'm sorry.**
**Not sorry. ;P**
**<<photo incoming.>>**
*holy jeez..*
*um.. I kinda like Gingers too.*
*Would you like to get some coffee later?*
**I'd love to. ;)**
*Just promise not to ravage my planet?*
**Promise. ;) Already did a while back anyways.**
*thanks*
*What?*
**Huh?**
*LOL*
**;)** | Javed was manning Mission Control that day. He had clocked in as usual at around 7:30 AM, gotten a cup of coffee from the pantry, and had settled in for eight hours of watching live data from the various Tinder servers spread across the globe.
Tinder lived and died by metrics. They measured everything - uptime, clock time vs users logged in stats, gender vs log in time. Anything you could think of was tracked.
99.99% of Javed's job was automated. Data got captured, logged, sliced and diced a myriad ways without handholding.
His team only got involved when the live streams showed a purple blip. And so far today, no purple blips. He didn't really expect to see any either. His devs had been eliminating typical causes of purple blips all year now and today, the Friday before Christmas, he probably wasn't going to see any.
Purple blips were most often caused by incorrect assumptions about the expected data. For example, data scientists had presumed lunch hour near tech office parks on the I-5 corridor was would be a quiet time for swipers. So, when the number of swipers in their first study region - a circle half-mile in radius from Exit 14 on I-5 - was more than two standard deviations away from the expected number, purple blips galore.
Javed grew restless as the morning wore on. The office was near empty due to Christmas. He missed the usual hubbub of pool playing, casual flirting, and gossiping that passed for work at Tinder on most days. He whipped out his phone to eat his own dog food. His approach to dating was quantity over quality. Unless the girl was really unattractive, he would swipe right. His first match was, to be charitable, not attractive. Eager to move on to the next match, Javed swiped left but the photo didn't budge. He swiped left again. The photo didn't so much as flicker. He tried again, slower this time, carefully trying to catch a clean, smudge free area of his phone screen. Nothing.
This was getting annoying.
He looked again at the picture. The app told him this woman was 2000+ miles away. He was sure his distance filters were set to exclude everyone outside a 25 mile radius. He'd be damned if he was going to drive to the sticks to hook up with anyone. This was surely a bug but his screens showed no purple blips. Weird.
He tapped on the photo of the girl. That seemed to work. "What do we have here?" Javed muttered to himself. The girl looked much nicer than her cover photo in certain pictures. In her profile was a cryptic collection of letters and numbers - * BJNY86I2^BJNY86I2.
Now this was getting even more mystifying. He scrolled through more pictures of her. The last one seemed to be a silhouette of her torso filled with stars. An arrow pointing to one star in particular.
Excited, Javed turned to his laptop. He typed in BJNY86I2 into the search bar and out popped a NASA picture of a recently discovered galaxy at the very edge of what humans could see with current technology.
The galaxy about 10^46 light years away and thousands of light years across. He moved his phone closer to the screen, tilted it a bit and immediately saw that this girl's silhouette lined up perfectly with NASA's rendering of the galaxy.
Now, he was getting excited to meet this girl, 2000+ miles be damned. It wasn't often that Tinder showed you girls with the latest NASA images in their profile. He swiped right. A little frisson of excitement went through him when it was a match! Now matched, he could see that her name was Sarah.
He noticed that the profile had changed. It now said CY23GP4. And her silhouette picture was also different. Once again Javed googled that cryptic string. It was a galaxy around 100,000 light years away. This was getting exciting. This girl was a space geek.
Idly, he wondered why he wasn't able to swipe left and why he was matched with someone so far outside his preferred area but the prospect of talking to a space nerd with a cute body and obvious smarts quashed his worries.
Bzzzzt! His phone buzzed in his hand as a message from Sarah came in. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" Her silhouette picture was the moon. The profile proudly said the same thing - MOON!
Javed wasn't sure what she meant, "Invite you in? To what? It all seems very vampire-y to await an invitation." He threw in a few emojis to let her know he was joking. She replied with a pout but her main profile picture had become a little more steamy. He could definitely see a hint of cleavage.
For a second, he wondered if everyone else around him was seeing Sarah in their matches. He casually IM-ed Judith asking her if she saw anything interesting on her Tinder. She did, she said as she bounded over to his desk to show him. Judith's last few tinder dates had been a bust though she seemed super excited about this new girl she wanted to show Javed. A quick glance told him that Judith was also talking to Sarah but Judith hadn't noticed anything untoward about Sarah's profile.
Judith had even asked her over for lunch at the gourmet office cafeteria.
Bzzzzt! His phone buzzed again, "Cya at lunch." And slowly, his entire phone turned a familiar shade of purple. | 2016-12-23T10:01:49 | 2016-12-23T08:11:36 | 54 | 23 |
[WP] just an hour into an international flight the pilot announces there's a sick woman on the plane and that there will be an emergency landing at the closest airport. The plane lands and connects to the jetway, but rather than a few paramedics, an entirely different kind of squad enters the plane. | "Ladies and gentlemen of flight 4025, this is your Captain Holt speaking. It has come to my attention that a passenger has spontaneously reached a fever of previously unrecorded levels. Due to such an emergency, we will be making an emergency descent to the nearest airport."
I felt the entire cabin groan. Plans were cancelled, vacations delayed, connecting flights missed.
A racket behind me caused the people in my row to turn. It was the passenger, a woman in her late 30s with crisp brown hair and a sickly red face. The flight attendants were pushing her in a small gurney towards the head of the plane.
The plane made its descent quickly. Within 10 minutes, we were on the ground and waiting for the woman to be rescued.
"Water," she croaked, in a voice hoarser than I've ever heard.
"Sit tight, ma'am, we're almost out," said the flight attendant closest to her.
Another attendant flung open the door to the plane, and in came these small turtle-like creatures. They sprayed water over the sickly woman, water that came spouting from their mouths.
It was the squirtle squad. | The plane landed. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but this really is a tremendous sickness." The passengers murmured to each other, wondering what kind of rare disease it may be. Then the captain continued speaking. "Now, this is a kind of disease that is very rare, and has never been seen before; one that someone would very much like a sample of. So, if you all could just put your heads down and make no sudden movements, thank you."
All of a sudden screams rang out. Three masked men with assault rifles boarded the plane, all yelling at people to get down. When the men had advanced to the sick woman, everyone on board was whimpering in fear, their hands behind their heads.
When they got to the woman, the group worked quickly. One in a blue mask pulled out tubing and several vials, and they prepared to take blood from the passenger. Halfway through filling the vials, a voice yelled outside the plane. "This is the police! We have you surrounded, come out with your hands up!" One man, wearing a white mask, motioned what seemed to be the youngest to stand up. "Alright," he yelled, "Who called the cops?!" He looked through compartments, finally centering on a passenger with a phone. The man's voice dropped as he said a quiet insult and shot the passenger's hand. "Alright," the criminal said into an earpiece, "captain, you have these coppers under control?"
The criminal nodded, hearing something through the earpiece. As he looked around at the other people, making various threats, the other two came through. "We got what we came for," the leader said, "let's get outta here." The blue-masked one placed a canister in the plane, spraying gas that knocked out everyone in the plane. The three then took off their masks, opened an emergency exit, placed their case of vials in a specific compartment marked with a small bit of dirt, then sat down and succumbed to the gas.
One minute later, a team came through to dispose of the gas, and officers and medics revived the passengers. They found the pilot huddled in the cockpit, the copilot's head bashed into the console. The pilot explained that the gas made everyone delirious, that they thought he was one of the criminals. He had to fight the copilot to save his own life. The police bought the story, and as the passengers were loaded off for questioning, three people, the pilot, a bit of luggage, and one passenger with a strange disease mysteriously failed to show. | 2017-01-08T08:47:05 | 2017-01-08T08:37:14 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born (IE: Mountains, deserts, etc.). You are the first person to be born in space.
Think Avatar the Last Airbender but not so limited.
Edit: Wow this really blew up! I'm gonna be entertained for a while! | The Aquas are always so stuck up. Rich bastards who could afford to give birth on the ocean. You can tell that they just think they are God's gift, all because they can do cool shit at pool parties. Most people are just Terras. Not really useful in day to day life, but some great artists have benefited from their powers. It's pretty rare to come across a field that hasn't been messed with in some way, by some Terra or other.
There are rumors of Chernobyl babies. Every government tries to deny it, but that's just crazy enough for somebody to do. I can't imagine the super villain that would emerge from *that* vagina.
You have your various Sand-people. Nobody mentions them that much. Mostly because they couldn't think of a cooler name than Sand-people.
It's rumored that mountain folk are more powerful Terras than plain folk, but I think it's all just a bunch of B.S. Tourism nonsense most likely.
There are some Eskimos, but they mostly keep to themselves.
Then there's me.
I can't go a day without odd looks. It sounds like hippy nonsense that you can tell a person's power by their 'aura' or whatever, but it seems like people are always noticing me.
As I sit in this coffee shop, I can feel the prying eyes. *What's wrong with that dude?* I try to ignore it.
"Abysseues?" The inquiry rings through the shop. People snicker. I hate my parents. What the fuck am I supposed to shorten it to, Abby?
I stand up, and the snickering stops. All eyes are on me as I walk to the counter, and pick up my coffee. I turn back around. A group of Terras are behind me.
"Can I have your autograph?" one of them asks. I sigh.
"Sure. You got a pen?"
They fumble through their collective pockets. I tap my foot impatiently. They finally produce a pen. They hand it to me, and look expectantly.
"What do you want me to sign?" I ask, irritated.
They paw at themselves again. I sigh again.
"Listen, I've got to get to a wedding in 40 minutes." I lie.
They look a little disappointing at the lack of sign-able things. One of them visibly has an idea.
"Alright fine, but could you show us?" he asks excitedly.
I am tempted to sigh a third time.
"It's not really safe..." I trail off. They don't move. *What the hell?* I think. *Maybe this will get them to go away.*
I raise my hands. It is not necessary, but I am a showman. There is a shift in the air. A slight pull is felt by all. A small black hole has opened in the center of the room. I even cook in some special effects, to make sort of a light show around the room. I do like this part, but I'm not an idiot. The strain I show is not an act. I have to focus incredibly hard not to destroy the surrounding area. Hell, maybe even the world. Black holes aren't really something you should fuck with, believe me.
The group moves toward the hole, oohing and awing. The coffee shop is now in a state of total amazement, as the people who had been staring at me before finally realized who I was, and what was happening. Everyone crowds around the hole.
I can't take the strain anymore, and stop. I almost fall forwards. There is a round of applause. I collect myself, breathing more evenly. I look up. The crowd has moved forward to me. Some of them have small pieces of paper, and are jutting forward pens at me.
*Shit.* I think. I contemplate ending it all. Summoning a black hole that I make no effort to control. I would never do it, of course, but it feels good to think about.
I sigh a third time as I take the nearest pen.
___
/r/Periapoapsis | “Drop your weapons!” Cried a reedy voice from the alleyway.
The criminals froze in their tracks, turning their weapons on the darkness with shivering hands. It had to be one of *them*. One of the heroes. There hadn’t been time for it to be anyone else – there were no flashing lights, no screeching tires of police cars. Only a voice in the dark that commanded them to stop.
A figure stepped into the pool of light at the base of the lamppost. It was a boy, wearing clothes much like their own – black, with a mask obscuring everything but his eyes. Where theirs were ratty and torn, however, his had been artfully put together – speckled with gleaming dots of white, the swirl of a galaxy splashed across his chest. He was a boy, lanky with a teenager’s new growth, but there was no mistaking what he was.
“I said,” The boy continued, “*drop. Your. Weapons.*”
“And why the hell should we do that? Just because some punk asked us to?” Asked the first, a tall man with thick stubble growing what parts of his chin were visible. He was the one with the briefcase – and he was quite keen on being able to keep it when the night was through.
“You know better than that.” The teen said. “If you didn’t, you’d already be running.”
It would have been intimidating, if he could keep his voice from cracking quite so much.
“Nuh uh. I don’t think so, tough guy.” The crook cackled. “You’re just a wannabe. You think I don’t recognize a home-made costume when I see one?”
The would-be hero gulped, but stood his ground. “Power doesn’t depend on experience.” He said. “It depends on who you are, and where you were born.”
“I know.” The man replied. “See Marco here? He’s special too – born at the base of the Grand Canyon. His mom broke past security and everything, just so he would get the *gift*. Wanna see what he did to the vault doors?”
Marco flexed, displaying muscles that strained the fabric of his shirt to the utmost limit. The boy, however, didn’t reply. Inwardly, he flinched – remembering the awful sound of the twisting metal. He had been nervous then, but it was nothing compared to how he felt now.
“Meanwhile, I was born at sea.” The man continued. “Wayyyy out over the ocean, not like these namby-pamby wannabes who wade into the shallows to have their kids. You should just see what I can do with a cup of water…or a cup of blood.” He cackled loudly, making the hairs on the back of the boy’s neck stand up on end.
“You wanna know why we didn’t run, kid?” The crook said, grinning. “We thought it might be someone who would put up a fight. You know, someone special. Alabaster, maybe. He might be able to give Marco here a shiner, if he threw his crystals hard enough. Or maybe Zephyr. But no. Instead, we just find you – a pitiful, weak, idiotic child playing hero in the middle of the night with a bunch of criminals. I have half a mind to teach you a lesson…maybe you’ll get to find out about that cup of water after all.”
He set down his briefcase, and as one the two men began to approach.
“Do you want to know where I was born?” The boy said. It sounded as if he were trying to get the words out quickly, before he lost his nerve. “Don’t you wonder *why* I’m here, why I’m so brave even though I knew from the start how strong both of you were?”
The men froze.
“Space.” The boy said. “I’m the first person ever born in space.”
The tall man swallowed. Space? He had never heard of someone being born there. Except, maybe, he had. A newspaper cover, half remembered, flickered in front of his vision – Child Born among the Stars. The one who was destined to be a god among men.
“Do you want to know what I can do?” He asked, taking a step toward them. “What powers the vacuum of space gives a child?”
The criminals took a step back.
“Maybe I can rip you apart, tearing your atoms from your flesh one…by…one…” The boy continued. “Maybe I can just squeeze you, push you into a point of matter so dense you won’t even be able to scream. Maybe I’ll just rip you limb from limb at the speed of light.”
Sirens blared in the background. Silently, the man cursed – they had taken too long, been caught too early. Every instinct he had urged him to run - but he didn’t dare make a break for it. Not while that terror stared him down.
“Or maybe, the vacuum of space does something else.” The boy said, grinning triumphantly. “Maybe, so far from everything else…you get nothing at all, and I’ve just been bluffing the entire time.”
The men blinked. Before they could react, the police cars swerved into view, sirens deafening. The boy turned and ran, vanishing into the darkness as the criminals cried out in surprise.
“Or maybe,” He whispered, “you two are just really, really gullible.”
| 2017-04-14T16:32:13 | 2017-04-14T16:01:37 | 457 | 148 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born (IE: Mountains, deserts, etc.). You are the first person to be born in space.
Think Avatar the Last Airbender but not so limited.
Edit: Wow this really blew up! I'm gonna be entertained for a while! | My parents were both flyers. My mom was born in the back of an airplane on a transcontinental flight. My dad was born on the back of a car near Mt. Saint Helens, to my arboreal grandparents, and they never figured out why he was a flyer. Worth noting flyers are pretty rare.
Naturally, being in love with the sky they joined the space program. There's at least 40% of the population that don't have powers. Everyone's supposed to of course, it's just genetics, but a faction within the government had an experiment go afoul and basically neutralized the powers of a good number of people, and it continued generationally. My grandfather was one of the heroes who took those people down. But this isn't his story, it's mine.
Like I said, my parents were in the space program, and were sent on a one year mission to commission the new United Earth Space Station, built off of the original ISS. They didn't tell NASA my mom was pregnant with me and I guess nobody bothered to check. Luckily the new station had artificial gravity and some pretty advanced medical features, so my birth as I'm told went off without a hitch.
-------------------------------------------
When we got back I was international news. Not only were people wildly speculating on what my powers would turn out to be, but a birth in space was itself historic. It took moving to Hawaii to get away from all the press at the door all the time.
Most kids find their powers around 5-6 years old. I didn't discover mine until I was about 8. It was a pretty traumatic experience.
Most people who have powers are set in a single range or element. Desertborne people usually have powers related either to fire or earth. People born at sea are great with water. Most Russians have snow/ice powers, but like I said it's limited like that.
Mine were different.
I had a pet cat who followed me religiously. One day I was outside, petting him, when he ran up a tree and hissed at me. I tried to get him down, and when I stretched out my hand, he started to wail until he couldn't anymore, and his body crumbled in on itself. Then the tree did. Then a good chunk of my backyard. I was so freaked out I broke down crying, and my parents did their best to console me. But gravity manipulation was only the beginning.
My first girlfriend controlled storms. I remember when I met her she was upset, her best friend had been in a car accident. It was raining terribly, and lightning struck everywhere. I instinctively touched her face, I don't know why, but it instantly calmed her, and when it did the light of the sun shone brighter than any natural occurrence.
By now, my full range of powers consists of not only controlling gravity, but also light, tides, and through combined use, the passage of time. I can create pockets of air for myself and keep my body stabilized in the vacuum of space. I warp spacetime to explore the universe and can be home in time for dinner. But I couldn't remain hidden forever.
Remember those government factions I told you about?
About a year ago they convinced world leaders that my power was too great, that I was too dangerous to be free. I became public enemy no. 1. My parents were incarcerated and killed. I left Earth for a while. I came back yesterday to avenge their deaths, and things have really changed.
PART 2 AND 3 IN COMMENTS | -Part one, introduction
The class system that had been established after centuries of war, had ultimately benefit nobody.
The Ice-nobles ruled as viciously as you'd expect, condemning the rest of the elemental spectrum to a life of distinct class restriction. The Desert-wares were the lowest caste in the system, and could do essentially nothing, but rot in the climates they were born into. (That isn't counting the Fire-wares, who aren't really a caste as much as they are rebels. They often intermingle between classes that accept the rising rebellion, determined to kill all nobility and start an age of freedom.)
In the mid-section are the rock and agricultural classes, who's entire life is that of servitude. (They seem to be comfortable with this to an extent, as their lives are relatively easy, as long as their able to work with the Water-wares that is.) The Water- wares are more or less the soldiers, whether they like to believe that or not. They have the same rights as the Ice-nobles, however not the same privileges, that among other things is the only thing that separates the two classes. Water-wares are essential to the nobles as they're the only thing that stands between them and the fire-rebels.
Certain members of the Ice-Noble council have been known to be exceptionally cruel to people who break their system. (A collective dictatorship 'superior' to the rest.)
An example of their frozen empathy, lies no better than in young exiled Water-soldier, Anubis. It was honestly a tragedy and her passing will be mourned across the cosmos for eternity. Anubis of Pacific reign had unintentionally strayed too far from her ranks during a pursuit involving Fire-rebels. Her journey back to the blue half of the kingdom landed her deeper into the wastelands, until she inevitably found herself close to death. It was some time after she'd collapsed in the sand, that an older member of a Desert-ware clan found her. A boy, who was known by the name Mirage.
"What's you're class ... can you hear me?"
Mirage couldn't fathom a blue class being abandoned in the desert like this, but couldn't let her die. It would be risky for him to attempt a rescue of a Ice-noble, they were unkind to the most meaningful of gestures. It would be less hassle to let the girl die if that were the case. Mirage knew desert people who would rejoice at the death of such a person, not himself however. There was no joyousness in suffering.
After the Desert-ware was certain she was helpless, he set about trying to save her. Realising he could not pick her up and take her to safety, as the hot surface of his skin during the day would surely make her condition worse.
There was no other option than to wait until nightfall when the desert wasteland's, temperatures dropped to below -50 degrees. (Something he was certain the girl would be more used to.)
By the time the sun set, and a harsh chill brushed across the dunes, Mirage could feel his skin cool enough to drag the Water-ware to his clan.
"You- you're-" The younger girl began as her eyes fluttered open, skewed by sand.
Mirage shushed her, kneeling down to press water to her fragile lips.
"Why are you doing this for me, I-"
"You're human, right, just like the rest of us?" His dusty smile, ached her heart and warmed it like the relentless heat.
The pair enjoyed a year of harmony before everything came crashing down around them like an avalanche. There are many who claimed in court, that, that must have been the beginning of their 'sinister love'. However Mirage would claim that the meeting Anubis was fate, and wouldn't regret it even if he could.
Anubis smiled solemnly by all accounts of the jury. Her blue eyes swimming with memories of love and acceptance, it was the happiest she had ever been. Her husband was flighty and would often get himself into trouble, she prayed that they would not hurt him for speaking out too much about the sentence, whatever it may be. The moments after the trial happened as quickly as they'd escalated, ending with Anubis' head cracking the podium and her body hitting the cold ice floor she had almost began to forget.
She heard Mirage and his horrified screeching before the consuming blackness welcomed her vision. He was yelling about the child inside her.
"Anubis of Pacific reign, you are to be exiled from this land, for fraternising below your class and producing a rebel child in the process. As you know, we can not kill you ourselves. As we took an oath not to kill our own, and it would be treason for any other class to do it, so you shall leave this Earth accordingly. Do you have any last meaningful words to express, before your departure into the furthest ring?" | 2017-04-14T20:09:16 | 2017-04-14T17:56:58 | 57 | 37 |
[WP] Due to a misunderstanding the hero arrives at the tower, defeats the princess, and marries the dragon. | It was hard to tell who was the princess and who was the dragon.
Not for the first time that day, Reis wished he had paid better attention to his mother. And that he wasn't more than a little hungover.
Two women stood before him, of equal height and slender waists. The differences between them were all aesthetics. One had hair of deep violet, then other of sky blue. Eyes of blue and eyes of green. Fair and dark or dark and fair.
Looking at them made his head pound. A dragon's trick, Reis was sure.
He didn't have a picture of the princess to check against. He had lost his commlink on the trek up to the tower. Mainly because it involved several skirmishes with the local flora. Man-eater flowers had taken root in the forest near the tower. A discovery he made while puking in the bushes.
They had been waiting for him just past the foyer. And he had been staring for a couple minutes now, dripping plant slime onto the marble floor.
The blue-haired girl rolled her eyes and the violet one sighed.
Reis, tired, undiplomatic Reis, made a split-second decision. He drew his plasma-edged sword and chopped off the blue haired girl's head.
Violet sighed again.
"That was the princess, you know," she said.
Reis gaped a bit at this.
"But... but she rolled her eyes at me."
"I didn't realize that was a killable offense now."
Reis sheathed his sword.
"Congratulations," he said, pressing a hand to his temple, "you've just been made a princess..."
A small lifted the corner of her mouth.
"and my wife."
The corner drooped, and her equally violet eyebrows scrunched together.
This was the worst marriage his mother had arranged for him yet.
| "Martha?" his voice echoed through the cavernous hall to the stoney foyer. "Martha, who is it?"
Martha returned to the bedroom, her flared nostrils steaming. She spoke through heaving breaths:
"No one, dear. It was no one."
"Another one of those little bastards running around, I'd gather. Did you give it to them good, dear?"
"No sir, it was a delivery."
"Delivery? What delivery? Martha, don't lie to me. I can see the smoke on your breath."
Martha sulked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to prepare the dinner. She watched the smoldering body through the window.
"Stupid kids don't know how to show respect. They get what they deserve."
"Martha," his voice bellowed into the kitchen. "Don't forget to clean my spectacles."
The once-prince was aging. She knew this. She had forgotten this when they met. Humans age quickly. But she made a commitment and was determined to see in through.
She can still see him to this day. He was shining. He flew in on his steed and climbed the tower like an ape. It was majestic to watch. In fact, his speed was such that it caught her off guard.
She still thinks about when he killed that bitch. The story still warms her heart. She wouldn't accept his advances then and there, the wily risk-taker he. Something about a killer dragon flapping it's wings right outside the window. She couldn't see from her vantage as the princess fought him off. The final moment still glows like the bones of a pubescent child in flames: "So I took out my sword and cut her clear off."
Martha let out a snort as Bill snailed into the room.
"What's funny?"
Martha jumped.
"Oh Bill, you're out of bed."
"And? So?"
Martha beamed.
"You look well!"
"Well enough to eat."
"Shall we eat at the table tonight?"
"I don't care," he muttered.
Bill with his cane walked past the joyful reptile, his wife, through the kitchen, and to the front door. Due to the huge size of the room and his lack of speed, it took all of ten minutes. Martha realized what he was doing. It was five minutes too late.
"Bill, wait, I can--"
"Damnit beast," Bill shouted as he pulled the door open. "Delivery, my ass."
"I can explain."
"Explain what? Another of my kin decimated in my front yard?"
"Bill, they ruined you! They made a joke of you!"
Martha pounded her fists on the counter and the whole house shook. Bill nearly fell to the ground, as several dishes had with a crash.
"You vile creature! I've had it with you."
Bill made his way back to the kitchen, but Martha flew out the backdoor in a huff. Bill watched with disdain as she flew away from their mountain down to the city below. His eyes grew bigger with every spout of flame that stretched forth from her lips. No more than an hour later, the whole thing was crisp.
Bill looked out beneath the wrinkled white of his brow and wept:
His would-be kingdom was now in embers. | 2017-04-25T16:12:18 | 2017-04-25T14:25:41 | 42 | 23 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | Day 176,709
My name is Frrajkuisi. I am part of the 14,976,430th legion sent to exterminate the 'humans'.
We had received word that the upstart race of humanoids who dominated Planet-CX3995 otherwise known as 'Earth', had grown exponentially, and technology had advanced dramatically. Initial reports indicated their progress had been impressive since we last sent scouts, but like so many others, their focus was misguided. 'Missiles', which are similar to our cannons, but with a much greater range and destructive capability. 'Machine guns', Rapid firing muskets that can fire hundreds of bullets in mere seconds. 'Nuclear Weapons', perhaps mankind's greatest achievement based on our reports, uses the power of atoms to cause catastrophic damage across miles, completely disintegrating anything in its radius. The list goes on and on... If only they had realized the true potential behind subatomic technology...
The initial attacks were a resounding success, for every 15 of our soldiers killed, we killed one of theirs. The humans in their arrogance refused to even commit fully to the war, mocking us and our 'stone age weapons'.
We remember their "stone age", it wasn't the biggest stick that won the wars. Men won wars. Numbers won wars. The humans had forgotten this. As days turned in to weeks, weeks in to months, months to years... Wave after wave after wave... They began to remember.
My battalion is to be sent tomorrow. Without intergalactic travel there is no hope for escape, this war will be over by the end of the century, they clutch to survival in small pockets. Their most powerful weapons spent centuries ago. Their numbers dwindle.
This is my musket. There are many like it, but this one is mine... | "Humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
The gnarled general gave him a look halfway between amusement and disbelief.
His ears twitched before settling back into their wavy slow pattern.
"You know this how? From the couple of days we've spent here?" the old man asked.
Djerza held the barrel of his musket up, eying the line of its smooth surface for any warps or bends. Ignoring the question.
"Fools, all of you. I thought the Zanta failure would have taught you not to underestimate our enemies."
At this, Djerza sat up and sighed. The quick flash of ears pulling back betraying his anger at the remark.
"The Zanta had help. In any case, this is not a discussion general. We leave tomorrow, have the troops ready."
The general nodded slowly. "I do admire his spirit though, what was it again he said?"
"It is easy for me to die, but difficult to let you pass" Djerza said smiling, his sharp teeth black as night.
-------------------------------------------------
Guns flashed and thundered all around him. The ground itself shaking as pieces of mud flew past him.
Djerza ignored it. The cannons were interesting, primitive but powerful nonetheless. He quickly approached the line of enemy soldiers.
He'd started running after their last volley. With too few soldiers left for staggered shots, he'd have more than enough time to close the distance.
His own musket spent, he charged ahead with the bayonet at head hight. A few steps before impact, he saw the fear spread across their faces.
Fear not just of war and death, but fear of him. Fear of this thing that was barreling towards them and that was decidedly not of their own species.
He howled and lost himself in the bloodlust.
Twelve hours laters, three thousand had fallen. Men, women and children. Even the animals had been killed.
His clothes were dark with earth and soot and clung to his skin where blood had soaked the fabric.
Of course none of his own had fallen. Well at least none of those truly his own. Technically their side had suffered losses, but that was to be expected. He did not really care if these humans died. But they had entertained him well. This passion for killing, he'd not encountered it for a long time.
He heard the general walk up before he saw him. Demon of Dongnae the human soldiers had started calling him. Djerza felt a stab of envy.
But then again, he'd taken Song's head himself, that was no small feat considering the weapons they'd been forced to fight with.
The general finally spoke "It was a good battle my Lord. I assume we will be staying longer?"
They were young and obviously lacking in finesse, but they had so much potential. Humans fought and died with so much vigor. The Hunt would be glorious if they'd just grow up a bit, and his clan would hold the rights.
Djerza twitched his ears in pleasure. "Yes, yes general. I think we will.". | 2017-08-08T08:37:17 | 2017-08-08T07:55:11 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | *What a disgusting species*. Hermes thought as he and the survivors of unit 17 entered the ship.
"Had I known we were landing in a militarized zone, we would have been better prepared."
The fight was over almost as soon as it had begun. There were so many of them and so many shots fired, that it seemed like they didn't even have to reload their weapons. They hid behind walls and vehicles while firing into the front line.
"Disgusting cowardly wretches."
No matter, they had made it back to the ship and it's plating would hold them at bay long enough to enter orbit and rendezvous with the mothership. Although Hermes unit had suffered a humiliating defeat, he knew the other units had probably fared much better.
When Hermes opened up the comms center chaos and confusion was everywhere and then he heard it; The general order to retreat. How could it have gone so wrong? The intelligence reports said they hadn't even made it off planet.
In the distance Hermes could see hundreds of dropships lifting off the ground. Once they were in the air they received the order to drop the bombs. Cowardly, but under the circumstances it was warranted. Hundreds of the enemy would be killed, but that's what happens when you resist the Dominion. He smiled as small puffs of smoke expanded hundreds of feet below. His bliss was interrupted when the first dropship exploded in midair, the enemy had airships.
Hermes accelerated to top speed. If he could make it in range of the mothership he would have cover fire long enough to dock. In what seemed like an eternity, countless dropships had been destroyed, but he and the rest of unit 17 were going to make it. They were in range of the mothership and it seemed like the airships had turned away in fear.
On the far side of the mothership there was a flash of light, brighter than a star. Hermes didn't understand what was happening, but as the mothership started to fall he knew he would never see his family again.
Edit: Formatting is more difficult than I had imagined. | When he finished he put it back into the display case full of his other trophies. He had taken it from the Grand Warlord of Nor IV, one of his easiest conquests.
"But you must agree Admiral that it is a waste of our resources. Why invade when they clearly are killing themselves? We don't even need to wait that long, maybe 200 years, before they have reached a point where we don't have send an entire fleet."
"Waste? The vast resources of this system make an invasion worth the effort. They don't know what lurks under the surface of their gas giant, or under the ice of double planetoids. Their probes are laughable in their tools, and they haven't even yet set up optics to spot our ships."
"But consider this, while they might not have space faring capabilities they do have weapons that they could point at us. There will be losses. Reports make it clear that they are highly tribal and pointing those weapons at each other at the moment. They are arguing with themselves, with tensions rising. They are on the verge of not just stopping and reversing the warming of their planet, but controlling their climate and weather. They are stumbling into artificial intelligence, and are showing the first signs of accidentally releasing an unbound AI upon their communication networks. They are showing signs of possible disease outbreaks, even after clearly having control for decades."
"Your point captain?"
"My point is that we don't need a fleet. We need patience. We could probably speed up the process a bit. Our medical technology would allow us to look like them. I know that chemical warfare is not honorable, but we could modify our technology to speed up the warming of their climate. We could sponsor one or more of the unstable nations to pose a threat. We could introduce our own AI into their system. On their own, we could see a collapse in 200 cylces. With some help we could see one in 50. They can't detect us right now, and we have full ability to monitor them. Small, subtle moves can create massive change. Unstablize the planet, help them destroy themselves, and we can swoop in once all their bombs are dropped. Teraforming technology has taken some great leaps in cleaning up our own radioactive messes, and what they can do is nothing compared to what we did."
"A little patience and we won't be risking anything?"
"Exactly."
"Any ideas on where to start?"
"Well, one of the more powerful nations is going to be holding elections soon. I think we can get one of our own in there to shake things up. It might take two of their election cycles to get someone into the top, but I think I have the perfect candidate."
A thin sheet of transparent glass like material was set on a desk in front of the admiral, reports and photos slowly cycled across from it.
"He looks... a bit like us. This is already someone on that planet?"
"The orange skin and yellow hair will save our medical professionals some work, and I can have a team ready to replace him as soon as we have his replacement ready."
The admiral considered it. He tapped his desk a few times as the idea rolled over in his head. "Are you also picking him because his name is similar to my ancestral clan's?"
"No sir, I wasn't aware you had that in common," the captain said with his best poker face.
"Very well," the admiral said with a slap on his desk. "I want this Trump replaced as soon as possible."
"We should be able to get it done soon. A window will open at what is called a White House Press Dinner I believe, if not then soon after." | 2017-08-08T08:40:18 | 2017-08-08T08:23:50 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | "What the fuck" I thought to myself. This job was supposed to be boring, given my... powers. This wasn't supposed to happen.
See, I was a bouncer at a bar. I wasn't the most imposing person but I had a unique trait. I could tell anyone's age without seeing a license. The numbers just kind of floated above their heads. I realized I was special at a young age when I asked my fourth grade teacher, mrs. Jimenez, why the new boy was three years older than all of us. We had to have a special meeting with the counselor and my parents. It freaked them out pretty bad when I was able to tell the counselor that I knew she was seven years older than she said (looking back I think she was trying to start a relationship with one of the younger teachers). It took a couple of years to learn to not notice and just live life but I managed to find a way to use it to my advantage when I got this job.
I streamlined the front door, no wasting time carding people, usually I just stood next to Big Jake (he was a left tackle at the local college and an absolute mountain of a man) and told the underage kids to leave before they wasted our time.
Tonight was terrifying though. We expected a rough crowd once a month when we hosted fight night. It was common practice in rural Midwestern towns, usually one or two bars would set up a ring and let local fighters put on the nights entertainment. Typically fight night made us sell out of pbr and bud light, with exactly the crowd you'd expect. We always had to break up two or three extra curricular fights but it was no big deal to me, I never did the dirty work, I protected our liquor license.
This man terrified me though, four digits were hovering over his head. I leaned into Jake and whispered "something's wrong, ask that guy for I.d." The man didn't look strange, except his hair was straight out of the 80's, mutton chop sideburns and all. He wore a leather jacket over jeans.
The expression on Jakes face was pure confusion. He asked the man and he pulled out a Canadian passport, which was strange. It said he was in his 50s, which was also strange because he didn't look a day over 32. I didn't know what to do so we let him in.
He caused no problems, he came to fight and ended up winning two matches and pocketed 200 bucks, drank two beers and left. He barely said a word. The next day I tried to put him out of my mind. By a week later I had gotten past the shock of it and tried to move on, but the next day life got really strange.
I was home for dinner with my parents when the doorbell rang. They answered and several minutes later my mother shouted for me to come into the sitting room. An old man in a wheelchair was sitting there and behind him stood five people, on of whom was the 1000 year old fighter. I was shaken as the old man began to speak, "hello James, my name is Charles Xavier. I believe you've already met my companion Logan..." | They all questioned it. Why would you want to be a bouncer? I can't blame my friends for thinking that way, of course. It seemed like a tedious job, with little reward. And it was tedious, but it was possibly the easiest job I could have.
Checking IDs was just a formality. the numbers floating above everyone's heads were what really have them away. It took me a while to figure out what they were. I remember when I did though. Standing in front of the mirror on the day of my eighth birthday, as the number above my head morphed from a 7 into an 8.
My ‘gift’, if you want to call it that, made this job stupidly easy. I didn't have to pay much attention to the contents of IDs. The numbers gave them all away. I'd earned a bit of a reputation with the high schoolers, at least I’d heard. None of them had slipped past me yet. And they probably wouldn't.
After a while the monotony did begin to get annoying. I'd taken to drinking a little bit, just to make the day more enjoyable. It didn't affect my ability at all, as long as I could make out the numbers.
On yet another night of turning away underaged kids, I was getting bored. Some of the same faces, some new. And then one that was new, but had to be old. That number couldn't be right. 9999. Was the alcohol affecting me? No, that wouldn't make any sense. It never has before.
Below that number, all alone, was a stunning blonde. There were some real model types that came here but, this one, she was something else. As my jaw dropped slightly, I saw a quick smile as she looked away. Glancing back at her ID it said she was 23. I was beyond confused. I mean she was old enough to be in here but, no, that can't be right. After taking way too long, I let her in.
It stuck with me, the whole night. Not one more person had such an outrageous number. I definitely wasn't experiencing some alcohol induced hallucinations. But I had to figure this out.
On my break I looked around the club. She was nowhere to be seen. Glancing at the somewhat empty bar, I spotted a flash of golden hair. That was her, still all alone, somehow. I couldn't help myself. I had to talk to her. I sat beside her and asked for a drink from Barry, the bartender. She glanced over at me and smiled. It was now or never.
“ So, uh, this may sound weird but, your ID said you're 23, and, I uh, you look a bit older, ah, yeah.” Spoken like a true gentleman. I was kicking myself mentally.
“Really,” she asked inquisitively, “and how old do I look?” She didn't sound the least bit offended.
“I mean, like at least, uh, 26?” I stammered out.
And then in a laughing tone, “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment”
I couldn't believe she hadn't asked me to leave yet. But that 9999 above her head still had me puzzled. “There's something I’d like to ask you”, I began.
She looked at me seductively and quietly said, “Yes. Let's go to my apartment.”
I was dumbfounded. I had not expected anything like this but before I knew it she was leading me out of the club and into a taxi.
The ride there was a blur, I was too confused, and she was to stunning not to be focused on. When we finally got to get apartment, she dragged me inside into the living room. And without realizing I was on her sofa with this jaw-dropping woman next to me. Gnawing at the back of my mind was still that number. She leaned in closer to me and whispered in my ear, “ I need you to do something for me”
Barely comprehending I replied, “Anything”
She leaned closer, her mouth right at my ear, “I need about tree-fiddy”
I pulled away, staring back at her, when I realized, I was sitting right next to a building sized crustacean from the Paleozoic era. Stunned, it came to me, that that God damned Loch Ness Monster tricked me again.
*Thanks for reading this! I’ve never commented here before, but this ending came to me as soon as I read the prompt. Hope you enjoyed, and tell me what could be better!* | 2022-05-25T21:41:20 | 2017-09-02T01:10:06 | 1,321 | 13 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits. | My eyes flitted over the crowd of people lining up. 26, 30, 14 - gonna have to turn her away - 22, 8988, 21, 43. I slowly looked back towards the big number. That's an 8, followed by a 9 and two more eights. I took a few steps to the left. It's all one number. That... shouldn't be right. It couldn't be right. But i was never wrong before, and i don't know why i'd be wrong now.
"I'm going to have to I.D. you sir." The man smirked.
"I don't look *that* young, do I?"
"Sir, i'm going to have to insist." I had to see it. I was sure that his I.D. would hold some clue.
"How young do I look? Take a guess."
I couldn't resist the urge as a smirk invaded my face. "Dunno. 17, 16, maybe 8988?"
For a brief moment, the man looked at me in shock. Then he burst out laughing. "You're a funny guy. I wanna buy you a drink, when does your shift end?" I looked towards the bar door as Leon - the other bouncer - stepped through. "Now."
We headed inside and sat down at the bar. I insisted that he just get me a beer. He had the hard stuff. We both sat silent for a few minutes. "So I suppose you know i'm immortal, then. I won't ask how. What you're probably wondering is why someone as old as me is in a bar drinking his liver to death." I arched an eyebrow and looked at him. "History repeats itself every few thousand years. On my first time I was in a bar like this. Tomorrow's special, y'know." He had a happy, yet tired look in his eyes. "It's my birthday tomorrow." I smiled, but his face became frustrated. He took a large swig of his drink and, with a roll of his eyes, said "Oh, and the world's ending." | 2021-11-13T01:48:11 | 2017-09-01T23:50:27 | 585 | 30 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
If you enjoyed, consider subscribing to my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/ChocolateChipWp/)! Critiques and suggestions are appreciated as well!
| "I'm sorry sir, but this ID is fake."
"Who the hell do you think you are boy? If you had any idea who I-"
"Sir, I"m going to have to ask you to present me with some real proof of identity. You are not 24."
"What the hell do you know you insolent prick, this ID is more real than anything you will contribute to this society over the course of your lifetime."
I sighed. I'd considered not confronting him, letting him pass, but his demeanour was pissing me off.
"You're outside our age range for the night. We admit individuals aged 21 to 30 here. You sir seem to have missed that cut off range by about two thousand years."
He paled, then turned red. Began to turn, turned back, stumbled in his indecisiveness and would have fallen if not for the press of bodies all vying for my attention.
"Don't tell me they give you *optorithmen* for working as bouncer now?"
Obviously deciding it wasn't worth waiting for an answer he began pushing his way back through the crowd, and then down the street into the inky night. Historians I find, despite their age, really are idiots. I shook my head and returned to checking IDs. It was never any trouble, after the enclave's gift. Scanning the plastic cards was more of a formality, and a safety procedure, than a necessity. If I turned people away at a glance those who aren't aware would get suspicious.
The night wore on, and I did my job damn well if I do say so myself.
I stepped aside for a break at 11:58. I like to watch the numbers change from 11 to 12 at midnight. As the 31st became the first, I sighed. One more month till one more year left of my contract. Then what. Maybe I should become a historian myself. It could be pretty interesting, but 10,000 years of service for an 11,000 year life extension seemed like a bit of a crap deal. Our historians, like normal dentists, had a disproportionally high suicide rate - that definitely says something. Just because you *can* live for ever doesn't really mean you *should* live for ever. It's not for everybody.
Still there are other cool gifts with lower prices that I'd been thinking about. The enclave will grant you your gift, in exchange for service, and some gifts cost more than others. Usually these gifts allow us to serve above and beyond the normal line of duty, helping Them whenever They needed it. Not every club has people like me working the door, but for high class establishments like mine, normal security doesn't usually cut it. I hear the security are granted *musculi* here, but I've never actually seen them have to use it. Rumour is that big business goes on in the VIP section here, but in all honesty, I'd never seen any proof. I almost agreed with the angry old man. *Optorithmen* was totally overkill for a bouncer job, but who am I to argue with a gift for a job I'd propably do anyway. I figure I'll end up accruing as many as I can, doing odd jobs till I feel they want to get on with me life - plus my additions. A lot of people work till they're given a job too unpalatable to do and then they draw they line. So far I've only had easy work - club admission included. And of course the enclave gives us our years back. I've been working the door here for just under nine now, and when I'm done I expect be given my ten back ASAP.
I rejoin the other bouncers, my break is over. I wonder how many of then can see ages like I can. Technically I'm not allowed to ask. I could lose my job and my abilities if I reveal the enclave's gifts to anybody ordinary. You never know who's working right beside you. I haven't seen any of them around the enclave but that doesn't mean anything. It's big enough that two people might not meet in over a thousand years, if they're working in separate departments. As the night progresses, the crowd thins. The salty historian returns a few hours later, but I shake my head before he can say a word and he storms off again, this time for good. I almost feel bad for him. Cooped up all day pouring over musty texts (old even back in his day) - and then having to synthesise it all into some dry report - would make anybody want to get fucked up on the dance floor, but I have to do my job and he knows it. Slowly the crowd thins to zero and I can go home.
Ronny, my girlfriend, might be getting home soon too. She works nights as well. She's a night scout actually - with *optolux* and *auribus* - basically she walks the streets and calls the police when she hears or sees any petty crimes being committed. Much cooler than my job. Cop patrols aren't nearly as efficient as they'd have you believe, so she does their job for them. Actually, she's recently sent in an application for telepathy so she can skip the whole dialling them on the phone thing, but I'd doubt they'll grant it to her. Telepathy is a pretty heavily demanded gift, and the enclave likes to really squeeze you for service for the nice ones.
I call an Uber and text her as I hop in. "See u soon babe?"
"mmhm" "home in 20 mins."
As I doze off in the back of the car, a smile flits across my face. | 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 2017-09-02T00:20:37 | 223 | 10 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | 28, 34, 21, and 54.
I remained where I stood, nodding to the guests in silent affirmation that they were allowed in. As they trudged past me and through the door of Barney's Strip Club, I reached into my pocket, fumbled for a cigarette, and stuck it in my mouth. Now where was my lighter? It would be so much easier if I could just-
20, 17.
Ugh. I groaned inwardly. 17? That was definitely not a number that should be here. Time to perform my job, I suppose. "Hey, you two. Hold it."
I shifted myself into the doorway, blocking the two young men from entering. Behind his expensive looking sunglasses, I could see the younger one already beginning to sweat. Was he really unable to wait for just one year longer? Honestly, kids these days... I sighed inwardly, but continued standard procedure.
"Excuse me, but can I see your ID?"
At the first mention of an ID, they both began to fidget. The younger one kept glancing over at the older... his brother, maybe? Eventually, the older one took charge, handing over two pieces of plastic with an artificial smile plastered on his face. I ignored the small talk he tried to make and pretended to study the cards intensely, while in reality I was rolling my eyes behind designer sunglasses. I didn't know the first rule about being a bouncer, let alone how to identify fake IDs from real ones. All the club wanted was for me to do was two things- keep out the riff raff out, and be good about it. Which suited me just fine.
"Nice try, kid, but you're going to have to try somewhere else." I couldn't be bothered to mess with these two any longer, as my cigarette was getting soggy. I handed back the IDs and glared them off. Any possible protests they contemplated melted like snow upon seeing my iron-set muscles, and they beat a hasty retreat. In my profession, it helps to be a mountain of a man like me.
And another thing that helped was this ability. The power to see numbers over peoples heads that showed their age- at first, I thought it was a stupid power, but eventually I came to see its use. After all, I turned out to make a pretty good bouncer, despite knowing nothing of the job. It came in handy for my other business as well.
Speak of the devil. I was just about to light my cigarette when something else caught my attention.
3,214.
A petite man who couldn't be over thirty, wearing an elegant tuxedo and tie that dripped of extra money, stood in front of me. He looked like your typical, unassuming gentleman, the type who wouldn't hurt a fly. And I might have been fooled by this disguise as well, if not for that 3,214 floating over his head. This wasn't work anymore. Now, it was business.
Once more, I sigh inwardly. Over 3,000? Then this might actually prove to be troublesome. As *they* get older, they get stronger as well. Feeling a pain welling up in my back from an old injury, I crack my neck around. Then I spit out my cigarette and lumber into the doorway once more, standing above this ancient wonder of a man.
Well, not that *it* is a man. The *thing* tilted its head in inquisition.
"Pardon me, but is something wro-"
I didn't give it a chance to finish its sentence. Pulling back my shoulder, I let loose a full powered punch straight into the face of the *thing*, a clean punch that would have demolished a building. And yet, even as the man goes flying, he's already fully regenerated by the time he hits the ground.
*It* immediately enters combat mode, transforming its arms into pairs of wickedly sharp blades, but I don't give it a chance to use them. Utilizing another power of mine, a more useful one, I ignite my fists into flame, and unleash a barrage of punches upon the creature until its been reduced to pulp. Only once its been melted into a puddle on a ground do I cease my attack.
"Ha... ha..." As I pant, I observe the creature for movement, but it appears to be completely and thoroughly dead. Just to make sure though, I light the remaining puddle on fire, and watch it evaporate into the air.
Sticking a new cigarette in my mouth, I light a fire beneath it with the snap of a finger. Then, leaning back against the wall, I crack my neck again, dispelling the misdirection barrier that I had erected around the area. Once more, customers begin to trickle in, and I continue my vigilant watch.
I work as a bouncer, but my real job is somewhat different. It just so happens that *they* like places like clubs, where life energy and youthfulness is abundant. But I'll be here. And I'll be watching. | Part One
I got fired last week for the 9th time this year.
I don't always mean to run my mouth, but when I do, it sprints. This time, it wasn't even my fault (initially, anyway); if only that dumb fucking Russian bartender would have kept his mouth shut. Oh well... No sense crying over spilled martinis.
It's not hard, finding a gig as a bouncer, especially in cities. After my fourth attempt at holding my tongue (and fists) at a new bar, I bought a camping van off some poor prick who needed the cash to pay for his divorce. Being essentially unhireable makes for a great old-fashioned, transient lifestyle.
A few weeks go by before I start to run out of money. I begin scrolling through ads online, keeping my eyes peeled for job opportunities, but by now word has gotten around about how I told the owner of the last joint to go fuck his hot daughter. Soon, I find myself looking for gigs in the next state over.
Part Two
I don't even look at people beyond their waist anymore, which especially annoys bigger women. Knowing someone's age is like having transparency goggles: you see right through their bull shit. It's great, for professional purposes, but it's put a serious damper on my personal life.
Occasionally, I do look up. If a girl smells good; if a man's voice is resilient and kind. These times are few and far between, but they happen. Like this morning, at a local coffee shop.
"Excuse me?"
I looked at the woman's waist. "Yes?" I ask, keeping my head low.
"Are you looking for work as a bouncer?"
What the hell? I look up at the girl with the raspy voice. She's got on heavy black eyeliner and full, plump dick-sucking lips. My gift indicates to me that she is 26 years old. We make eye contact, and I realize that this girl is drop-dead gorgeous.
She points gently at the stack of potential work ads I've collected and printed out. I feel stupid. I ignore her and get back to scrolling on my phone.
She stands there a while, both of us uncomfortably silent. Finally, she slides a piece of paper on the table. "In case you're interested," she says, and walks away.
I look at the paper. It reads:
Madame Bijou's
55 Walker Street
9pm, don't be late.
Part Three
8:55pm. Fuck, I'm early.
Madame Bijou's is located in a very popular part of the city, in an alley off to the side. It gives off a speak-easy type of vibe, perfect for those of us who don't enjoy teeny-boppers getting too drunk before 10pm. Perfect for me, makes my job easy.
I haven't seen the girl from the coffee shop, but a Stevie Nicks chain-smoking woman who looks just like her approaches me at 9pm sharp. "Make it to 1:55am and I'll pay you $100," she says, pointing at the bar stool next to the door, and walks off. Her age indicates that she's 64.
The night starts slow, but picks up around 11. I have not seen the girl from the coffee shop, or the older hippie woman.
Around 12am, I kick out some drunk Marines for being douche bags. Around 12:30am, I deny my first group of underagers. Their IDs look exactly like McLovin's.
1:29am comes around, and the whole place empties out, almost like clockwork. Strange, since bars don't close until 2am. I peek my head inside the club, and I see the bartender wiping down the bar top.
1:39am, I close the door behind me as I walk inside.
The bartender is 41. "I'd offer to get you a drink, mate, but we have to be out of her by 1:55am." I don't make eye contact with him as he says this.
"I heard. Why not 2am?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the floor. I can hear the bartender smirking. "You don't want to know."
He heads out around 1:49am, but I still haven't seen Stevie Nicks. She sure as shit better pay me for tonight. I wait patiently, and at 1:55am, she emerges. She seems to be in a hurry.
She ushers me out of the bar and hands me a $100 bill. "See you tomorrow, pretty boy?" She asks, turning the lock on the bar door.
"Suppose so, Madame Bijou," I say to her. She forces eye contact with me, her smile fading. She checks her watch, sighs, and leans closer to me. She whispers: "get out of here before 2am," and walks in the other direction.
Now I have to know what this is all about.
1:56am.
1:57am.
1:58am.
1:59am.
I guess I expected some sort of apocalypse at 2:00am. When nothing happened immediately, I laughed at myself for being so foolish as to believe in the superstitions of people I had just met. I looked at my watch, which read 2:01am, and began to make my way towards the van.
I took one last glance at Madame Bijou's, and there she was. On the other side of the glass was Madame Bijou, flashing her rotten teeth at me, her wispy gray hair flowing down to her knees. Her age read 3,378.
Somehow, she reached her hand through the glass and pulled me into total darkness. "HELLO??" I shouted, reaching for anything I could touch, so terrified I pissed myself a little. I began to hear footsteps coming toward me.
"WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK," I panicked, still reaching into nothingness for something to grab onto. The footsteps got closer.
"You were warned," said a voice somewhere in the hollow space around me. Suddenly, a bunch of numbers started to appear at once. 4,707; 2,856; 5,302. I kicked and screamed, until I felt like I could no longer breathe.
I woke up the next morning in my bed, with teeth marks covering my entire body. | 2017-09-01T23:18:34 | 2017-09-01T22:06:04 | 189 | 38 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | One knows when they're in the presence of something ancient. A turn of phrase, the way their gaze meets yours, the way the air around them hangs, as though to communicate an unspoken form of reverence. Or fear. Simple folk like to trade their wives tales, attempts at justifying the things that exist just outside their conceptions. Makes them feel better.
I wonder what they'd say about me.
But my gift, a paltry glimpse into the age of those who cross my path, is nothing compared to the man- er, woman? Hard to tell after so many years. Anyway. Is nothing compared to the figure who comes, every eight months like clockwork, to visit our humble distillery. The first time I met them I thought, sure. Someone's slipped me something. Just because I can see the age of things doesn't make me immune to tampering. And I've been at this for a few decades.
All this to say, the first time I met the man (at the time) who saved my life, I had difficulty believing he was nearly four-thousand years old.
"Been around a while, then?"
"Oh, I dread to think."
"What brings you 'round the Juicy Jailer then?"
"It really wasn't my decision. Just passing through, I suppose."
"Not much inside worth your time, I'd think."
"Well. You'd be surprised what I find when I'm not looking."
Turned out he was right, as later that evening we learned the distillery had been housing an underground warehouse what took people and stuffed 'em into tin suits. Sy-buh whatitsorsomething' he called them. Made this dreadful, monotonous speech about "upgrading" everyone. But quick as a flash, this man had done them in and cleared out just as quickly as he'd come. I asked for his name, but he gave me his vocation instead. Weird bloke.
But you never can tell with Time Lords, can you?
| **July 12, 1994**
Um what the fuck?! That man couldn't have been 1056 years old, there's just no way; the i.d. couldn't have been a fake and he looked exactly like his photo. Man... maybe all this drinking is catching up to me.. drowning out what brains I do got, I definitely should try to lay off the liquor for a while.
But what if I wasn't wrong? I had to be though. A 1056 year old wouldn't be getting drunk in that seedy shit hole, surely not. Jesus Christ, I'm an alcoholic aren't I? Instead of the shakes I'm just going fucking insane. I mean, a 1056 year old couldn't possibly exist and here I am trying to justify normal behaviors for a dude over ten centuries old. wonderful, I really am a psychotic freak of nature.
**July 28, 1994**
There it was again! That same 1056. I know it's the same one, the numbers have the same psychic texture as the last one, I know, I *know* it's the same 1056. And I'm sober, or at least I've been mostly sober the past two weeks, I really am trying hard. But jukov viell hell, the ancient freak was a little girl this time, not a slicked back 30 year old like in the club. And ve' saw me looking at her, it's like her eyes locked into mine with a laser and it was terrifying. I swear I couldn't move for what seemed like an hour though I'm sure it was just a few seconds. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm getting the fuck out. I'm leaving tomorrow and I'm not going to tell anyone why or where I'm going.
**August 5, 1994**
I'm settling here into Dallas just fine, even already got two jobs so I'm bouncing bars every night. It feels gulock vol shien over and already have my feet on the ground. I don't know what that thing was, but I ain't seen any thousand year old crypt keepers walking around here. I think it's buvok l'ie that I just forget that man and little girl and pretend it never happened. Volpp shon die! Ha
**August 9, 1994**
I'm vol niectien javhol. There's no way around it. I'm thryyka insane vol. In the bathroom this sunnatal 987 flickered above my head like a light with a wire shorting out. Da! I've never seen a nuvon above my head and never thought anything about it. But 987. It was in epileptic strobe, but unmistakable, 987 with it's own unizall textovu, my own psychic fingerprint, I guess. I don't know whether I should drink until I can't see straight enough to notice the flickering number apparating above my head, check myself in a psych hoklinta, or keep pretending that it doesn't effect me just like that thousand year old freak back in Philoxxanta. Fuckin hell...
**September 8, 2106**
Vien dol mal shinne. Va kra sel na vien talova! Herein je ve' sien. 1056 hai raj volkina buvo! Home! At last hommili! | 2017-09-01T23:22:02 | 2017-09-01T20:21:47 | 62 | 13 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | My eyes flitted over the crowd of people lining up. 26, 30, 14 - gonna have to turn her away - 22, 8988, 21, 43. I slowly looked back towards the big number. That's an 8, followed by a 9 and two more eights. I took a few steps to the left. It's all one number. That... shouldn't be right. It couldn't be right. But i was never wrong before, and i don't know why i'd be wrong now.
"I'm going to have to I.D. you sir." The man smirked.
"I don't look *that* young, do I?"
"Sir, i'm going to have to insist." I had to see it. I was sure that his I.D. would hold some clue.
"How young do I look? Take a guess."
I couldn't resist the urge as a smirk invaded my face. "Dunno. 17, 16, maybe 8988?"
For a brief moment, the man looked at me in shock. Then he burst out laughing. "You're a funny guy. I wanna buy you a drink, when does your shift end?" I looked towards the bar door as Leon - the other bouncer - stepped through. "Now."
We headed inside and sat down at the bar. I insisted that he just get me a beer. He had the hard stuff. We both sat silent for a few minutes. "So I suppose you know i'm immortal, then. I won't ask how. What you're probably wondering is why someone as old as me is in a bar drinking his liver to death." I arched an eyebrow and looked at him. "History repeats itself every few thousand years. On my first time I was in a bar like this. Tomorrow's special, y'know." He had a happy, yet tired look in his eyes. "It's my birthday tomorrow." I smiled, but his face became frustrated. He took a large swig of his drink and, with a roll of his eyes, said "Oh, and the world's ending." | 4 digits. For a moment, my degree in mathematics failed me, as I struggled to count the numbers before me. Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre. There was no mistake, though the existence of such a person...frightened me. My vision had always been right, as evidenced by the guilty looks on the minors' faces when I turned them out of the bar. I'd never had to kick someone out for being overage. But 5746 years was a lot of time, far before Anno Domini 1. Was he immortal? A god? Or some old guy with a superpower? I didn't know, and I definitely didn't trust the 'Age: 30' that his ID proclaimed. Maybe my powers had faltered this time. Maybe...
From behind, I saw another man slowly approach me, his IDs in his hands. But as he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened in fear. I saw him whisper into the 4-digit-old man, with visible shock on both faces. That was when I saw the age of the newcomer. 5746.
I tried my best to suppress my shock, though I failed miserably. 1 was surprising enough, but 2? 2 men that had lived for the exact same time from so long ago? I was about to demand an explanation, but one of them beat me to it.
"Why are you 5746 years old?" he questioned, fear in his eyes. I opened my own wide. Could he read ages too? And was I...that old? No. That couldn't be right. I remembered my childhood, the photographic proof of my birh just 28 years ago. But they didn't seem to be lying, and the mention of that 4-digit number again was chilling. What kind of sick joke was my powers pulling? Or were they the ones pulling my leg?
"We've found another suspect, boss," one said into a walkie-talkie. The other drew a gun from his pocket, training the muzzle on my forehead. "What are you doing? You're-" I tried to explain, but he cut me off. "No more words, time traveller. We've waited long enough to catch you and your gang," he replied, smirking as a group of policemen appeared from the darkness. I felt the cool metal slide around my wrists, as I was forced towards the car. "Move!" one of them shouted. That voice...I seemed to recall. The cold handcuffs. The interrogation. Disjointed images flashes before my eyes, as they slowly became clearer, culminating in...
I knew now. But...why were they doing this? Was it a plot to throw of the police? "James!" I shrieked, to the man I'd once been partners in crime with. He chuckled, though I could tell it wasn't just for effect. I saw the twinkle in his eyes, the signature twinkle he gave when he condemned a foe to death. My other pal Aldrich stood by, his eyes conveying his helplessness. James' face wasn't one of friendliness anymore. It was one of animosity and hatred.
"Good riddance," I saw him mouth, as I was shoved into the car. As we drove off, I could still see him, as he advanced slowly towards Aldrich. I closed my eyes in cowardice, though I knew what would happen. What I had feared when I agreed to sacrifice my memories...it had all occured. There was no way back.
Even inside the driving car, I could hear the terrified screams. The circle of betrayal had been completed. | 2017-09-01T23:50:27 | 2017-09-01T22:15:29 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | Sleek silver spacecraft dotted the dimming skyline like crushed peppercorn sprinkled over water. Their shapes were practically indistinguishable by their sheer number and velocity.
Command Master Chief Petty Officer Ryan Fields stared upon the decrepit ancient city of R'lyeh with a wary eye. The structure of the island was contradictory and unpleasing. The was a strange electric and apprehensive atmosphere on the island and he thought if he should stay here long enough he would surely go mad. He had lost half his damn fleet just attempting to make it to the island, on the Master Chief Petty Officer's orders. The orders were clear - this was not humanity's last hope. There was no hope.
This was vengeance.
The warships had arrived unannounced and by the thousands in some sort of quantum stealth shield that had gone undetected by radars, and blitz attacked Earth's superpowers. In synchronized unison Washington D.C., Moscow, Beijing, New Delhi, Paris and London all fell to the unstoppable extra terrestrial force.
They had made no offers to negotiate or requests for surrender, and had made no prior contact. They had simply arrived, intent on destroying humanity.
There was no hope. Human forces were not prepared for such a massive assault and, even if they had been, could not match or defend against the technological advantage of the enemy arenal. The swift fleet of the alien armada disintegrated opposing military forces, destroyed buildings and ballistics with hypersonic missiles, shutdown entire nations' electronics with EMP waves, and flooded the streets of raided cities with weaponized drones.
They ate through any and every line of defense like a plague of locusts and then moved onward to the next helpless populace in their path.
CMDCM Fields stared at the strange algae-covered statue with growing anxiety and dismay as foamy waves of green seawater broke against the rocky surface of R'lyeh. He had no idea how to do what his commanding officer has asked of him in his dying breath.
The Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy's last contact with Fields was right after Okinawa was attacked. He had been stationed there overseeing drills in preparation for the North Korea crisis. Fields remembered how MCPON Giordano had screamed over the radio, as the percussion of explosions echoed in the background. "Fuck it! Summon Cthulhu! Do you understand? 47°9′S126°43′W."
The MCPON was in the middle of repeating the coordinates when the transmission cut out. Okinawa had fallen to the alien horde.
Ryan Fields felt himself being pulled toward the statue, and felt a deep longing to touch the replica of the eternal creature and feel its damp, cool surface. He didn't so much as want to; on a personal level he found he needed to. He approached the strange humanoid creature that resembled both an octopus and a dragon and felt a humming vibration inside his head. He placed his hands on either side of the thing's tendrilled face, as his Petty Officers watched in awe.
"*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.*" Fields whispered as his body tensed and pulsated.
Suddenly, CMDCM Fields felt a wave of knowledge erupt throughout his skull. An impossible current of ancient and powerful secrets obliterated his mind and lapsed synapses as they passed through. He had gone insane moments before he stopped breathing, but it might well have been an eternity of damnation with the vision of what ancient evil he had just summoned burned into his mind.
Beyond the island, enormous tidal waves began to thrust and swell in an outward motion, devouring the remnants of the 5th fleet that had come to R'lyeh. The surface of the ocean became permeated with dead marine and deep sea creatures, as their inferior brains collapsed at the sight of the Great Old One.
Slowly, Cthulhu awoke from aeons of its death-like slumber and rose from the deepest and darkest depths of the ocean, bringing dread and terror to Earth's surface with it. It's sleek, bulbous green skull rose first, followed by enormous piercing cosmic red orbs, then innumerable tentacles larger than the ships that had sunk under its ascension.
Some of the seaman screamed as they witnessed the Great Old One. Many simply dropped dead from the implosion of their reality as CMDCM Fields had done. Others threw themselves into the sea. Above, the alien warships began to plunge from the sky like dead flies as their pilots went insane. Spacecraft crashed all around the Great Dreamer and the mind of every living thing that witnessed Cthulhu collapsed into madness under the sheer power of its existence.
And Cthulhu laughed. | Half a pound of pressure. That’s all it would take to doom the world. My fingers trembled on the key, my wrist ready to turn it the final thirty degrees that would end humanity as we knew it.
“What are you waiting for?” General Hammill asked, his breath at the back of my neck.
The alien mothership had landed. Five years of war and they had at last declared victory. So humanity was about to unleash the nuclear option of nuclear options. When all our world ending devices and weapons had failed, we turned to Cthulhu.
“Lieutenant,” General Hammill said, his breath growing hotter, his voice louder. “The other nine have already given confirmation. Turn the key.”
His voice echoed through the steel hull of our nuclear submarine, each echo a gentle prod to my hand. Turn the key. Turn the key. But my wrist remained still. Nine others had already made the decision and now it was up to me. If I could go back in time, I would’ve had immediately turned the key. While the other nine only approved of Cthulhu’s release, the tenth would physically release the monster. And I couldn’t.
“Sir, this is the end game. If we do this, it’s all over,” I stammered.
General Hammill stood a whole head taller than me with a neck thicker than my arm. His dark eyes honed into mine like a Hawk eyeing its prey and his lips curled into a frown. “Lieutenant, you have been given a direct order. Release Cthulhu.”
Honestly, I had no idea why I was given such a responsibility. I was a navy grunt who had spent more time cleaning submarine bathrooms than fighting wars. I had family that I wrote to regularly and a girlfriend that dumped me as soon as I joined the navy. Somehow, in my Captain’s eyes, that had warranted me a promotion.
My wrist turned ever so slightly. What would Captain Monroe do? He was always a man of action, always knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Unfortunately, in wars like this, more extermination than war, men of action were the first to die.
“Lieutenant,” General Hammill spat. “Earth is lost. We lost it. Now there’s no way in hell I’m giving those alien bastards the satisfaction of walking on our land and swimming through our seas. This is humanity’s middle finger to them.”
“But maybe…”
“Maybe what? Maybe we haven’t tried everything? Maybe a hundred million soldiers haven’t already died fighting? Turn the key.”
I swallowed. Sweat dripped down my neck and my heart kicked against my chest. It wasn’t just the turning of a key, it was the destruction of humanity!
“Lieutenant!” General Hammill moved in front of me, his face flush and fists closed. “You have been given a direct order by the acting leader of the United States of America. Now I don’t know why Captain Monroe put a panzy who’s never even killed, but I do know that disobeying my orders is high treason. Do not test me!”
I stared at my feet. Every time I glanced up to see those dark eyes like bullets aimed at me, I darted my gaze back to the floor. “It’s because I’ve never killed,” I said, the words barely audible to myself.
General Hammill got right in my face so I couldn’t even stare at my feet anymore. “What did you say?” he demanded.
I looked up, swallowed, and said, “It’s because I’ve never killed, sir. Captain Monroe told me that’s why he needed me holding this key.”
The general’s face contorted into a snarl. “I don’t give a shit if Captain Monroe wiped your ass for you and tucked you into bed every night. You were never supposed to have that key. Turn it before I do it for you.”
“No.” The word left my mouth before I had even thought it, but as soon as it did, I felt a swell in my chest and my next words came louder. “To me, Captain Monroe is a god damn hero, sir, and he gave me a responsibility. I will not turn this key.” And I pulled the key out.
In a single motion, General Hammill pulled his pistol and aimed at my head, his finger twitching on the trigger. For the longest seconds, only the ship’s creaking hulls and whistling pipes resonated between us.
“Put that key back in, Lieutenant.”
“The key’s attached to my biometrics, general. Even if you have it, only I can turn it and I’d rather die before turning this key.”
“Don’t you understand the war is lost? Can’t you get it through that thick skull of yours?”
“But humanity hasn’t, sir.”
General Hammill stared at me, his jaw agape and eyes wide. “We lost with the war.”
If I knew anything, it was that Captain Monroe was a hero and that he died fighting until his last breath. Humanity would not die any other way. And so I inhaled a deep breath and for the first time, my voice boomed through the nuclear submarine.
“If you believe that, then you’re not fit to lead our army, *sir*.”
The general took a single step back, his mouth moving, but no words coming through. His gun dropped. Then, the first soldier of our nuclear submarine, a man that used to leave toilet paper on the floors so I could clean it, stamped his feet together and saluted. He wasn’t saluting our general, he was saluting me. Then, the second did. The third. Soon, every soldier around us stood, their backs perfectly straight, their hands stabbed into their foreheads as they stared at me with burning eyes.
I said to them, to the general, to humanity itself. “Heroes far greater than me have died so we could make it this far. Giving up now is a travesty to them and every hero who had ever lived. We might lose anyways. This might all be for not. But until then, humanity doesn’t need this monster to stick our middle fingers up to those alien scum. We can do that ourselves.”
---
---
/r/jraywang for 200+ stories | 2017-09-26T11:37:27 | 2017-09-26T10:31:41 | 374 | 132 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | Thursday, September 21, 2017 - 21:00
The General's men got straight to work. Their entire military careers, these specially trained operatives were preparing for this moment: a code R'lyeh.
One soldier was tasked with acquiring the texts to summon Cthulhu, while another went to acquire the proper objects for the sacrificial ceremony. Those left began to set up the sacrificial table as the General looked on.
Within the hour everything was prepared. The General opened the Necronomicon to the proper chapter, nodding to one of his subordinates as they began to light candles and spill the sacrificial blood onto the table. The ship was coming closer, and the lights of the anti gravitate engines light up the sky.
He began to read.
By the end of the first verse of the General's words, the ground began to shake of its own accord. In an instant the candle flickered out, and the sacrificial blood of the lamb was sucked into the ground. A roaring fire appeared over the table, in which a text began to appear amidst he flames.
The General and his soldiers blocked their eyes from the bright light and the heat. As they adjusted, they looked into the flames of Cthulhu at their last chance to save earth from the invaders.
"I'm sorry to have missed your message. I'll be out of the office until the next purported end of the world, September 23, 2017. I won't have cell reception nor access to email, so if you need me in the meantime, you can leave a message with my secretary at..."
The soldiers, dumbfounded, looked up to the General. In the distance the alien ship touched down, bringing with it a fierce wave of destruction leveling all in its path.
"Well, fuck."
| "Fuck it. Fuck it all."
The man turned around, his eyes set.
"Summon Cthulu."
"Yes sir."
As the assistant hurried away, the General refocused his eyes on the screen at the front of the room. All the leaders of the world were seated with him. All of them knew how crazy it was to summon Cthulu. But they all also knew that he was their only chance.
So they sat and waited.
*****
"Cthulu?"
The voice sounded distant, muffled, like he was under an ocean of water. He opened his eyes from meditation and looked round. The mouth on his desk seemed to be the source of noise. He went over and pressed a button. The mouth started to move.
"Cthulu? You there? Finally." There was a sigh of relief, before the mouth started to move again. "There's been a situation. We, we need your help."
He almost smiled. These humans, after hating him, cursing him, and making a mockery of his name, for thousands of years, were now turning to *him* for help in their most desperate hour. *The cheek.* Nonetheless, he would answer their call. Humans had always fascinated him. Besides, he felt good about today.
"Tell the Council I'll be there."
*****
As expected, the members of the Council were nervous. Leaders of the world as they were, not many of them had never seen Cthulu. In a way, besides Cthulu, no one had actually seen what Cthulu really looks like. It is said that his true form is so terrible that even its sight is enough to decimate whoever lays eyes upon Cthulu.
"Explain."
And so the General did, all the while mopping his copiously sweating face with a hankerchief. When he finished, he practically collapsed into a chair. It was clear that he was nervous, nontheless he gave a detailed and accurate rundown of the events that led up to now, all in record time and somehow managing to prevent his voice from cracking.
"So, put simply, you want me to destroy some aliens. Correct?"
The General nodded, barely able to meet his gaze.
"Very well. I'll be back in, let's say, half an hour?"
*****
In fact, it only took Cthulu 5 minutes.
As it turns out, the humans reports were somewhat exaggerated. The aliens were no match and he even managed to treat himself to coffee while obliterating the ensuing enemies. He returned to the Council, still sipping his warm coffee.
"So you defeated them?"
"Obviously. Why else would I be here?"
"Thank you, we are-"
"There is one more thing."
Instantaneously, the entire room had his attention. Everyone eyed him ominously.
"Ever watched the Dark Knight? There's this character, called the Joker. And there's this one scene, kind of like this one, but it was more like a hood version of this. Anyway. "If you're good at something, never do it for free." So my price is... let's just say that you're gonna have a bad time.'
And then the screams began.
He knew it was going to be a good day. | 2017-09-26T11:47:23 | 2017-09-26T11:33:18 | 168 | 78 |
[WP] “So, human. Are the legends about your kind true” “Yes” | They examined each other.
Isaac felt his cold breath somehow get a little colder, sapping his strength. He imagined a chill ran down his spine, but it was too cold to tell.
Glar kept a calm exterior. Internally his blood curdled, seeing the human in front of him breathe white clouds of icy gas into the air, calm and collected.
"Greetings. Forgive me for my speech, learning your language has been difficult."
Glar hoped he hadn't just accidentally said something inflamatory. The translation work had been rather rushed.
Isaac was impressed, but hid his surprise.
"Greetings! Your speech is excellent, we appreciate the effort you have put in to learning it."
Isaac prayed their translations were good, and that he hadn't just been misconstrued.
"I am Glar, Ambassador for the Great Council. I would like to offer our welcome to you, and your entire species."
"Thank you, you are most gracious. I am Isaac, representing the Planet Earth and the Sol System, and all 35 Billion humans.
We come in peace."
Corny, but Isaac couldn't help himself.
Glar screamed internally. 35 billion?! The rumours about these humans were true...
"Please, allow me to show you to the council chambers."
"Show the way!"
Isaac allowed himself a smile. This was going remarkably well.
They walked together towards the main structure ahead.
"Tell me, Human. Are the legends about your species true?"
"Please, call me Isaac. And what legends? I wasn't aware we were famous!"
Isaac stopped, a rising panic inside.
Glar turned to face him. His burning curiosity was quickly turning to regret and fear.
"We have legends of your species that speak of your great numbers, your fearlessness, and your willingness to explore even the most dangerous of technologies."
"Technologies such as?"
"Legend says that you learned to split the atoms of creation."
Isaac laughed.
"Oh yes. The very ship I arrived in uses a propulsion method based on this technology."
Isaac witnessed Glars face turn pale.
...
...
Glar broke the silence with the question burning his mind.
"You say you come in peace. Why have you come armed for war?"
Isaac took a deep breath.
"Because, my dear Glar, us humans barely trust each other.
Don't worry, I'm sure we'll get along just fine."
Glar looked Isaac up and down.
"I hope so, huma... Isaac. I hope so."
| "Yes. They are true. But so much more than true.
"I proclaim, by mine and mine own eye, that every single elected United Stars President has successfully thrown a silver dollar across the Potomac into the waiting arms of the needy. It is true, my interstellar friends, that our actors are so fast, they have to slow down the film so people can see their hands! Imagine our warriors! They move with the utmost stealth, and kill anything that contains life"
Oh shit. They're loading more of those crazy heat bombs. I asked them to boil water with it so I could examine its heat output... they melted a damn comet. Ya apparently they have just a big old pack of those flying around, they've taught them how to direct themselves, and they've made them sentient and completely loyal, to the death. Like big, icy, dirty, pets. Apparently that's how they destroyed their rivals in Andromeda.
"Your warriors are dangerous?", from a 12 meter tall pile of tangled, interwoven titanium spikes whose digestion seemed to involve nuclear fire. It's face changed to mirror my own, in an attempt at empathy, but the ever present snaking chains of titanium blades hovering and twisting above it's metallic raster version of my eyes nearly turned me to stone. We sat on the edge of a great loading bay, where the ship that had taken me had landed... millions of gigantic creatures were working away on machines and ships, underneath great walls the size of a mountain range.
I was in the army, I knew I was the best and had seen the best, that's why they sent me to negotiate. Most of our warriors would have shit their pants and fled home dripping if they saw what I saw. I had already peed a little when their version of of a pack oxen, a bison looking thing the size of a city bus and apparently made of molten smoking stone, had passed gas near me and blew half my haircut off. He? I assume? I mean there's parts where they would be on an Earth bison, they glowed like Thror's Arkenstone and apparently it was uncouth to stare.
"A man with a rifle is terrifying. A man with a jet could take a moon. A man with a ship can destroy a planet"
They were friendly, of course. They had offered me food, an ingot of some warm black metal the size of a hamburger, that seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. As soon as I touched it, a sharp bolt of light went through my eyes, and I experienced a strange taste in my mouth. When I explained to them that I usually ate things that were once living, they were appalled, but decided to accept my way of life.
"Can there be peace between us?"
Their main ship was the size of Jupiter. Their pack of smart comets was playing in an out of the clouds of Uranus, making a big blue stain across the stars above me. Metal craft that looked like Enceladus sized- mosquitoes stood in ranks, cubes of 10000, tethered together with chains of thousands of smaller fighters, each one apparently crewed by one of these strange metal soldiers.
My eyebrows were slowly falling off, one by one. My sweat smelled like copper, and I was getting nauseous.
"You guys need water right? For your reactors? Well what do you know it, we just found a ton on Mars, and you're welcome to mine what you want! Feel free to Venus while you're at it!"
The peace treaty was signed, laughs were had all around, and the handshakes with those great titanium soldiers took off three of my fingers. They mined the ice caps of Mars, took a few good asteroids, and sped away with their millions of crafts and endless technology. Thank God for peace, really, because if they wanted anything else... we were, well, completely boned. | 2017-11-13T01:30:20 | 2017-11-12T23:37:28 | 59 | 17 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake to my phone buzzing on the night stand. I look at the clock next to it. The green numbers shine brightly: 3:14 AM.
'What the hell?' I think to myself. 'Why is anyone texting me at 3 in the morning?'
Before I can take a look, it starts buzzing again. And again. It won't stop. I grab the phone and mute it quickly but the notifications continue to pop up silently. "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." They're texts coming from my mother, my friends, my siblings, even some numbers I don't recognize.
An unfamiliar alarm blares on my phone. A new notification pops up on my phone, titled US Government Emergency Alert. It reads "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
'This is weird,' I think to myself, 'What the hell could be wrong with the moon?'
I walk to my window. I carefully open the curtains halfway so the moon is still covered. The sight is incredible.
Almost all of my neighbors are standing outside, phone in hand. They're staring upward in the direction of the moon. They're walking around talking to each other, pointing to the sky.
'I gotta see what the hell is going on.'
I walk outside and jog over next door, carefully keeping my eyes lowered. My neighbour is standing by his door. I'm about to call out to him when he interrupts me.
"Hey! Have you seen the moon tonight?" he asks.
"Listen man, something weird is going on. It's 3 in the morning, why are you outside right now? Why is half the neighbourhood outside?" I reply.
"You haven't looked yet, have you?" he laughs.
"Did you just ignore everything I said? Why are you outside? What's wrong with the moon?"
Without warning, my neighbor rushes up to me and places a hand on each side of my head. He violently turns my head toward the sky. "Just look!"
Oh. OH. I get it now. This is... incredible. It's impossible. There's no way this can be happening. It's... I don't even know. I have to tell someone about this.
I take out my phone and draft a message, addressed to everyone on my contact list. I slowly tap in the words "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
| ######[](#dropcap)
It was one of those surreal moments that you only get to experience once in life.
Linda was working on the script for the next show when her phone began to buzz. Slowly at first, just a couple messages. Work friends, she thought. Thursday was always their night out for drinks, but she had been too busy tonight to join them.
Then the buzzing became more rapid, until her phone began vibrating constantly on the bed. With a frown, she glanced at the messages that were popping up quickly, one after another. They were all from random numbers, all sending the exact same message. She scrolled through, just to make sure she wasn't missing something.
"It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
A frisson of fear ran down her spine. After a minute, the messages slowed down. Then a singular message, different from the previous ones.
"DO NOT LOOK OUT YOUR WINDOW."
It was from her boyfriend, Jordan. Her mind reeled. This had to be some kind of joke. She'd been such a good girl. She never went to abandoned houses and never walked into creepy forests alone. She was always sure to lock her windows and doors at night.
So with hesitant steps, she walked toward the dark curtain that was covering her window. Slowly, she reached out a hand and flicked off the lamp on her desk so that her room became pitch dark. It would help, at least, if whatever was out there couldn't see in. Then, she slowly slid open the curtain and peeked outside, expecting the worst. Perhaps a killer clown or a ghost.
She squinted. Was that...Jordan?
Without hesitating, she ran toward her bedroom door, throwing it open, and dashed down the steps of her apartment until she was at the bottom. There, she watched as her boyfriend was desperately trying to bring down the small hot air balloon that he had somehow managed to raise a little ways from her window.
He glanced down at her, then ducked into the basket. She simply stood there, waiting for him to get down. When the balloon came close enough, she saw the sign plastered to the front, and burst out into laughter.
On the front of the balloon, in large bold, flowery lettering, were the words:
LINDA, WILL YOU MARY ME?
When the hot air balloon touched down, Jordan climbed out, his face bunched up. "I told them not to send the messages, but it was too late when I noticed the typo--I'm going to kill Erin by the way--and everyone has such quick reflexes-"
Linda simply laughed and cut him off, throwing herself into his arms. "The answer's yes, in case you were wondering."
Jordan froze for a moment before he hugged her tight, lifting her up and spinning her around in the air. Then, huffing and puffing, he set her down, breaking out in a large smile as he gazed her windswept hair and freckles. "Best girlfriend ever," he said softly.
"Best fiancée ever," she corrected, and tilted his face so they could look at the moon together. "You have great timing, by the way. It's a full moon tonight."
"I meant to do that," he said, and kissed her on the forehead. Then he pulled out his phone.
"Mission success," he typed into the group chat, and ignored the kissy faces that flooded in. He would get revenge on Erin tomorrow, he vowed, his face dark. But at least, he thought, this would be a tale to tell the grandkids.
*****
r/AlannaWu | 2022-08-07T14:17:42 | 2022-06-10T18:58:05 | 712 | 308 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | The whole neighbourhood was out in the streets staring skyward; dressed in robes and wrapped in blankets. The bright white light made them appear as stone sentinels against the snow.
“Mummy, the moon is so big!”
My phone buzzed urgently in my hand. I set it on the nightstand facedown
“Grab your jacket lily,” I wrapped my housecoat tight against me and zipped Lily into her parka.
The light was brilliant; almost fluorescent. It radiated off the snow like an aura.
Lilly stood breathless on the driveway, her face wide with wonder. I wished i could always see her like this; so wonderful.
“It’s a beautiful night,” my neighbour commented with her children cradled to her breast.
I nodded and looked skyward at the fantastic beacon against the night. It was moving, falling from the sky.
“ Mom, why are you crying?”
I wiped my eyes and held Lily’s shoulders tightly.
“It’s just so beautiful baby. I love you”.
All was calm as the bomb cracked on the horizon and spilled over; swallowing everything.
| I refused. It was hard, but I refused. Hundreds of notifications pouring in, telling me to look at the moon but I didn’t.
Something seemed weirdly off by the idea of hundreds telling me to look at a rock in the sky and I’ve never gotten this many notifications before so I simply refused to do what they said. Plus I’d gotten an alert to not look at the moon and I trusted my alert rather than whoever was sending me all these messages. I decided to keep my curtains closed and just went to bed.
The next morning my suspicions seemed correct. When I woke up there was no one around and the streets were completely empty, no kids playing even though it was Saturday, no one driving through the street, no one even outside.
I had no idea what was happening but I kept on going.
Eventually I arrived at work to find that no one was there either but I was a loyal employee and did my job anyway. I worked at a local fast food restaurant which was owned by my granddaddy before he passed and passed onto my father, he’s was on his last legs too though.
No one even came in so I just sat there in total isolation, I checked all my social media to find everyone was posting the same damn thing. “Look at the moon.”
I decided I might get answers at towns centre so I began driving there to find crashed cars everywhere but no bodies. There were other irregularities like smashed windows, crashed busses, upturned taxis, even an irregular amount of stray cats and dogs.
Eventually I arrived at the town centre where the clock tower was. What I saw was terrifying. Nearly the entire town was surrounding the tower staring up at the sky. I approached and tried to get one of the crowd member’s attention, I recognised him as he sometimes came into the restaurant with his son, I think his name was jack or John or something. I said his name and shook him a little bit he wouldn’t break eye contact with the moon. That’s when I realised, the moon must have made them catatonic.
I ran back to my car and turned on the radio, trying to think of what to do until I heard a radio transmission by some guy.
“Hello? Hello? If you are not hypnotised in what we here at the station are calling the ‘lunar effect.’ Then please come to these coordinates. We need to figure this out, as far as we can tell 90% of the population are under the influence of the ‘lunar effect.’”
Then it was followed by some coordinates. I turned on my gps and began driving. What was happening? | 2022-11-14T21:59:08 | 2018-04-06T22:11:18 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] Domino's pizza has offered free pizza for life to anyone who tattoos their logo on their body. Now other food chains are following that idea, but with increasingly absurd requirements, and the poor have turned themselves into walking advertisements just so they can eat with each passing day. | "Welcome to Audi, sir. What car can I get you today?"
"I'd like a TT RS Coupé 2.5 please. Red."
"Ooh, nice! That'll be $135,728. And how will you be paying?"
"No need, Mr Salesperson. I have one of these."
"An Audi tattoo on both nipples. Fabulous. And you have the...ah good, penis too. Now, have you learned to sing the Audi Corporate Anthem?"
"Go, Audi, we are fast / Our ringly rings get folks half mast / Revvy revs then do the rest / Fuck you Tesla, we're the best"
“And backwards?”
"Og, idau, ew rah tsaf / Ylnig sgnir teg suh flah tsam / yvver sver neth od eth tser / Cuf ooy laset erew eth tseb"
"Very good. Well, I guess that just leaves..."
"Yep. Do you have a briefcase one?"
"Absolutely sir. Armed and set for detonation in 5 minutes. Now, if you manage to put it under a high-end Volvo today, we'll also throw in a set of extra floormats."
"Well...I do love floormats." | When I first saw the news, I was surprised. Would Domino's really do this kind of service?
I looked on their website and sure enough, there was a banner that confirmed my suspicions.
I immediately closed my laptop screen and drove to the local tattoo parlor. Even though I was dirt poor, I was just lucky enough to afford a laptop for school and now, a tattoo for unlimited pizza.
I walked into the parlor and one of the employees greeted me.
"Hello, how are you?" he asked.
"Fine, I guess haha." I replied, "so uh, can I get umm... a Domino's Pizza tattoo, right here?" I pointed to my upper forearm, near my elbow.
The employee looked at me funny for a second, but then realized the promotion the pizza place was holding.
"Oh yeah, sure!" He said.
About half an hour later, I received my very first ink: a pizza place logo. Can't say I'm disappointed, but I always though my first design would be something else. Oh well, free food at least!
I paid and went over to Domino's. I showed them my tattoo, chose my toppings and enjoyed the best warm meal I had within the past month. I can actually eat this every day!
...
It has been six months. So many other restaurants are also running free-food-with-tattoo promotions, and in a vain effort to stop getting ink, I can't. My body is littered with random logos of different companies, such as Arby's, Popeye's, McDonald's. You get the gist.
I have not removed a single tattoo. Every one I got, I keep. Laser tattoo removal is much more expensive than you think, and I can't imagine having to go back to paying for food.
But I have to. Due to the amounts of logos on my body, I can't even hold a job. I am *this* close to losing my home because I can't pay rent, because I don't have a job, because of my tattoos, which I need a job to afford the removal of.
I stared at the revolver on my coffee table. A Smith & Wesson Model 500, which I stole from some sloppy gang. I figured a .500 caliber cartridge would be good enough for a suicide, and only one was needed... especially since I only had one.
I picked up the gun, and decided to play a one-player game of Russian Roulette. You know, for fun.
I spun the cylinder, aimed under my chin, and pulled the trigger. *Click.* Damn, it was empty. I pulled the trigger again. *Click.* Empty again!
"Third time's the charm, I guess." I pulled the trigger.
***BANG!*** | 2018-09-08T14:19:51 | 2018-09-08T13:48:12 | 49 | 35 |
[WP] You're the owner of a cafe frequently visited by vigilantes and anti-heroes who absolutely adore your sweetness and acceptance of who they are. One day, though, a particularly rude customer comes in and trashes the place. Your friends aren't too happy to hear about that. | Some people are brought into this world to cure diseases, lead countries, build rockets, or fight for justice. I think I was brought into this world to serve coffee.
That’s what I tell myself every day when I unlock the door of my café. Even as a kid, I was obsessed with coffee - at first the smell, then when I was old enough, the taste. My fondest memories were always sitting at the counter in my Nanna’s little café, drinking weak coffee and reading a book while she served customers.
By the age of 11 I could brew the perfect cup, and by 12 I was helping Nanna run the place. I always admired the love she put into every order, the care she took with every customer. It wasn’t just a café to her, it was a haven for all, and a home for the two of us. “Josephine, there isn’t a soul out there in the world you can’t brighten a little bit of love. Sometimes that bit of love is as simple as a cup of coffee and a smile,” she would tell me on the rare occasion I grumbled about the early hours or the hard work.
I was only 17 when Nanna’s fight against cancer ended. We had sold our café for her treatments, but in the end I was left alone, working 3 jobs just to get by.
Now, at 21 years old, my life was back on track. I had worked harder than I’d ever worked, saved every penny I could, and 14 months ago I was able to open my own café - Joey’s. Nestled away in a quiet street, in a somewhat questionable neighbourhood, I had found a place I could afford and turn into my own little haven once again.
Business was painfully slow at first. So slow, I had to find work at another café in the mornings to support my own café. I suppose that’s irony, right?
I opened Joey’s at night still, almost a desperate bid to keep my dream alive, and that’s when I finally started bringing in regular customers. It started with The Crusher.
2:00 am, and the little bell on the door chimed. Looking up from my book, I came face to face with a giant of a man taking up my entire doorway. Bleeding heavily from a bullet wound in his shoulder, he shuffled forward cautiously, looking absolutely exhausted. I recognised him from the news - a vigilante who had earned his name thanks to the fact he crushed his victims’ bones with his bare hands - not just broken, but crushed. The lucky only had limbs crushed, but the worst offenders were usually unrecognisable. I was taken aback for a split second, and honestly a little afraid, but Nanna’s words stuck with me and I gave the man a warm smile. “What can I get for you sir?”
He paid for a large coffee (1 sugar and a bit of cinnamon), then shuffled to the booth nestled in the corner. Quickly making his order, I also placed a warm cinnamon muffin and a bottle of water on the tray, then I tucked the first aid kit under my arm and carried everything over to him. He was cursing under his breath (or so I assumed - the bandana covering his lower face muffled his words) as he inspected his wound, and he looked up in surprise as I placed everything in front of him. He rejected my offer to help tend his wounds, so I let him be, instead cleaning up the drops of blood on the floor and occasionally topping up his coffee. He left after an hour, looking in much better shape and silently tipping me as he left. I saw him two more times over the next two weeks, and did my best to give that little bit of love each time, with smiles, coffee, a few complimentary muffins, and once again the first aid kit.
The Crusher must have told some of his “colleagues” about my little café. Over the following weeks and months, more new faces started coming through my door, usually masked or cloaked, the occasional full helmet appearing as well. Business was booming and I was able to quit my other job and focus solely on Joey’s. I did, however, continue to open at night - a somewhat unusual plan for some cafés, but with the now steady stream of vigilantes and anti heroes coming through my door at all hours of the night, I was happy.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that most of these people were dangerous - I had seen the news and heard the stories, but regardless, I always tried to view every customer as another soul coming into my haven who needed that little bit of love, and my customers seemed to appreciate it. My café quickly became the place where the vigilantes of the city would start their nights with a coffee, or duck in for a quick break, a muffin, and a turn with the first aid kit. There were rules, of course - weapons holstered, no violence, no powers, and wipe your boots on the mat before entering - and it worked. The dark and shady protectors of the city continued to come through my door night after night.
Over these last few months I have seen more interesting costumes and uniforms than I ever imagined existed, cleaned up more blood than I’d ever hoped to, tended more injuries than I ever trained for, listened to more interesting stories than I’d ever heard, and served more coffee than I’d ever dreamed I could again.
I was doing what I was born to do, and I was happy. Until today.
| "So then the guy pulls a gun out, and well... you know the story from th-"
"OH MY GOD!"
The group of supposed friends stopped in place and looked upon the cafe the frequented. The modest hole-in-the-wall coffee bean shop looked as though there was some sort of struggle. The windows were broken, some of the bar stools and tables were laying in the street, broken; there was even the handle to a ceramic mug.. though the rest of it was yet to be seen. The most heartbreaking part of this obvious violent struggle was the sign that usually hing above the door, now lay in splinters. The words, "Doc's Place" were no longer legible, but the D in it remained unscathed.
A few of them ran inside to see what happened, but Maria, AKA BloodHound the city's masked private eye detective and night time vigilante investigated the scene. What first caught the detective off guard was the lack of any police investigation. "If there was a huge struggle, why were the police not called?" She murmured to herself while examining a shard of glass. "Maybe the mob paid them off?" She was once more surprised to find the shatter pattern to be coming out of the restaurant. She then recalled the furniture. Perhaps thrown threw it...?
Inside, the disaster seemed much more appalling. Doc was nowhere to be found, and so Alexandra, AKA Power Kat, hopped over the barista bar and hurried into the back kitchen. This left Derrick and Pedro, AKA Guy Glory and QuetzalCoatal, to try and piece together what may have have happened.
"Anything Q?" Guy asked while using his super vision to see any impressions left on the floor.
"Nada... No familiar scents. Place is wrecked, bro." The undercover hero replied. His tongue tasted the air briefly. "If anything happened here, it happened a while ago."
"14 hours ago, to be precise..." Bloodhound replied, stepping throught the door. "It's strange... no blood, no gore, not even a fingerprint..."
Meanwhile in the back, Power Kat was relieved to find their favorite barista seemingly unscathed. Doc was back there, cleaning up some mugs in the sink. "What da- oh, hey there Alex... Sorry, I forgot to put up an open sign. Don't worry, I'll finish up here in a sec and get your guys' regular orders in a jiffy." Doc said as though he weren't standing in the middle of a thorough trashing.
She let out a sigh of relief as Doc went back to cleaning. "Are you okay though? What happened?" She asked, closing the distance between them.
"Heh, I'm fine kitty cat." He looked back at her with a smile. "No need to go and frown. Don'tcha know? It's easier to smile."
Alexandra sighed and left him to his dishes, though not without a passing hand on the shoulder. She rejoined the group in the destroyed cafe as a table was stood up along with a couple chairs.
Now, if anyone were to hazard a guess to this group being college friends coming to chew the fat early in the morning at a little niche-coffee shop, they would be wrong. You see, each of them are in fact heroes and or vigilantes of some description. Are they a super crime-fighting team? No. In fact each of them are loners who sometimes happen to cross paths every so often.
Pedro is actually the reincarnation of an Incan god. He possesses powers of flight, strength, and superhuman senses as well as the power to breath fire. When his powers first arose, he found himself without any who would understand.
Derrick was a military and DARPA experiment gone wrong. He was supposed to be the next super soldier, but then they turned tail on him and tried to strike all evidence from the record due to some unethical chemicals being used. Long story short, he ran away.
Maria used to be a police officer, but when the department turned dirty, she gave up the badge and took up a mask and decided to expose them. She succeeded, and is still chasing down the mob who turned those cops dirty.
Alexandra was in line to become an olympic body builder. Then, one day, they told her that she was ineligible because they assumed she was using some sort of drugs to enhance herself unfairly. Nothing was proven, but because of that, she lost the chance to be a real competitor. So instead, she decided to beat the snot out of any drug dealer, or bank robber she could find. Over time, she became bulletproof, insanely strong, and skillfully nimble.
All of these heroes were loners, but enjoyed each others company on their time off. In truth, it was Doc's place that brought them together. It was the only 24 hour place that still used real coffee beans that wasn't overly crowded all the time. It gave them time to brood, to talk and eventually to become comfortable.
"Here ya go. Sorry for the wait. Got a lot to clean up." He chuckled while setting the yable with four mugs with creamer and sugar. The old barista then went about wiping off the counter, casing glass to tinkle off the floor as it fell.
"Doc. What happened?" Guy Glory asked after an uncomfortable silence.
"Oh, just some rough customers. Nothing serious." He said nonchalantly.
"Did you call the police?" Power Kat asked.
"Hmm... naw. I'm not gonna press charges." He replied, to which QuetzaCoatal nearly spat out his coffee.
"Why the hell not? You crazy?" He said with anger. "The police need to know!"
"Naw, they don't. To be honest, I'm surprised something like this didn't happen sooner." Doc chuckled. "Always knew this is what the next step would be."
He sighed out a long aigh, letting his age get to his face. "It's hard to be angry anymore. You youngin's with your supervision and ready to jump at the drop of a hat." Jhe shook his head and leaned down to pick up the pieces of a mug. "Whenever one of you would break a mug, you'd get upset and try to apologize... it's just a mug. If there's anything that can be said about it, it's are you okay?"
He gave them all a look. They couldn't meet it. "I'm not mad about the mugs, or the floor, or the tables, or the store. Too hard to be angry about stuff like that. It's what I told the kid last night too. He broke my mug and asked if I was upset. I told him no. So he broke another... and another... then my shop. I tried saving him..."
"Don't worry doc." Bloodhound replied. "We can still save him... like you saved us..."
Doc chuckled. "That's all I need to hear. Go and pay it forward." | 2018-10-20T23:47:58 | 2018-10-20T22:47:10 | 31 | 11 |
[WP] You're throwing a ball around with your dog and he's loving it. Then, he stops dead still. He takes a quick sniff and looks up at you and says "I'm not supposed to do this, but you need to get inside right now". He looks off into the distance, "They're coming".
Wow, was not expecting this, thanks for the silver:) and the gold:)) | "What the fuck? You can talk? Little asshole, we could've been doing this the whole time and now you choose to speak?"
After 7 years of ownership, raising my little Bucky, just now he decides to speak.
"Can we not do this right now? Im telling you there's danger approaching!"
"Nuh uh buddy, I don't think so. I pick up your shit so I think I deserve some answers here."
"Uggggghhh," Bucky groaned "listen all dogs can do this but communication is only permitted in emergencies!"
"Wait a minute, so you're telling me that all of dog society lives by toy story rules? You're surely joking."
"Toy Story?"
"Yeah, Toy Story! Living with me you've must've seen it once."
"Whatever! Lets just get inside before its too la--", Bucky stopped mid sentence to look to his left, "Ruh Roh".
I turned to follow his gaze, standing at the foot of our drive way were ten very unhappy looking mail men.
"Wait a minute, you've seen Scooby-Doo?" | I’m new to creative writing so feedback welcomed.
Hope was more than an ordinary yellow lab. She was more than a playful ball of energy. I am blind, and Hope was my guide dog. Hope gave me a new perspective on life. She never complained about all the traveling at college, and she was always up for a new adventure.
Every day after class, Hope and I would go to the green area on campus to play ball. I took off her harness, threw the ball, and Hope was off. I tossed, she retrieved. Playing ball was our way of winding down. However, today felt different, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. With my arm growing tired, I threw the ball once more and waited for Hope to retrieve it.
Suddenly, I felt a shift in the air. There was an eery silence. The birds stopped chirping. The wind stopped blowing. I thought it might be about to storm since Florida weather can be highly unpredictable. I called out to Hope figuring that we would just head back inside as always, and waited for her to return with that beloved ball. But I could no longer hear her paws hitting against the grass. I could no longer hear her playful panting as she ran to get the ball. And I definitely could not see her. Thinking I may have thrown it a little too far, I continued to wait. Then, I heard a bark that only I knew. It was Hope. Was she ok? Her bark grew increasingly alarmed. She finally returned with the ball when out of nowhere, an unfamiliar voice exclaimed, "GET INSIDE! THEY ARE COMING!" I thought nothing of it. Then, it said, "I am Hope. You need to get inside right now."
I didn't know what was happening. I couldn't believe my dog just talked, but I didn't have time to think. I didn’t have time to ask who or what was coming. All I knew was that I had to trust her. Hope had guided me around so many obstacles. I knew now was not the time to doubt her training. I quickly ran back to my dorm. When I arrived, I found everyone in a panic. My mind ran through the worst possible scenarios for almost every college student. Maybe all the washers and dryer‘s were taken. Maybe Chick-fil-A was closed. Maybe someone forgot to put the water in the mac & cheese and almost caused a fire. Finally, I asked my friend what was going on?. She said, “What do you mean? How could you not know? It’s finals week, and we are all going to fail!” | 2019-07-15T16:38:04 | 2019-07-15T14:00:47 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] 62 years ago, a manhole cover became the fastest man-made object after being launched by a nuclear blast. This manhole cover was the first contact with humanity an alien race had, after it “skillfully” took out their leader with a headshot. | "General Zoom, give me the situation," snapped former Vice President Xella. "Did forensics tell us where the foreign object came from?"
The war commander was nervous. He hid quavering tentacles behind his back and tried to look serious on the open balcony overlooking the sprawling silver city. "We've been attacked by an alien species that launched a solid metal alloy disc from who knows where. Satellites tracked the disc's path from orbit and-"
"General! I woke up this morning with virtually no responsibilities." Xella's natural purple skin tone was reddening by the second. "As everyone knows, the Vice President doesn't actually do anything, and now I'm *the President of the United Fins*."
Zoom swallowed. Secretly, he was glad that the old president was gone. He prayed that this new one wouldn't be as hawkish on war as previous commanders were - sending the boys out always broke his squishy heart.
"Give me something, Zoom. Tell me who did this to us so our world can unite behind the banner of a common enemy. Name them! Name the creatures that would stoop so low as to launch a preemptive attack on us without warning."
"I..." The General paused, listening to his earpiece. "I'm just now receiving news from our FTL interceptors reporting back. Apparently they are a primate subspecies living on a planet they call 'Earth'."
Xella blinked. "They named themselves 'dirt'?"
"It's not quite the same-"
"Fitting for such low-bred scum!" The newly appointed President balled up two tentacles and waved them in the air. "Announce a new campaign, General Zoom. I will make a speech condemning these dirt-dwellers and make sure the people know that our great leader will not go unavenged."
Zoom pretended to listen closer. "I'm getting more updated information that their military prowess is not to be underestimated. President Xella, do you really want to go down in history as the squid that started an intergalactic war between two species?"
This gave Xella pause. In his mind, two paths lay before him, two sea serpents that writhed and struggled for dominance. What was he to do? It was just like in the Chilly War, where his predecessor had chosen not to give the order to fire Sea-Enders on the Ink Federation.
Do nothing, and look weak. Fight back, and risk the deaths of billions on both sides. There was no middle ground...or was there?
"You speak the truth, Zoom. What's your advice on a proper response? We can't just let this one go without repercussions."
The general wasn't sure. "Perhaps we should wait for proper intelligence channels to-"
"No! Wait! I got it!" Xella yelled, turning bulbous eyes skyward. "I know just the right way to greet them in return." A slimy smile stretched across his face.
Zoom winced. "An eye for an eye, sir?"
"Not quite."
---
"This just in! Manhole covers apparently raining down from the sky! Is this a Russian plot to interfere in our elections? Or perhaps a devious Chinese plan for world domination? Jane, live from DC, tell us more!"
---
Thanks for reading! Hope you have a great day\~ come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around :) | "It appears to be some sort of alloy." The grey figure announced. Carefully it stepped over a mass of blackened blood and fragments of what was once it's leader's head.
"Don't touch it!" Another grey figure squealed, "We must wait to analyze this device only after S'kroal is cleaned and buried properly."
Kar'rac, the being who attempted to study the metallic device, retracted himself from the unknown weapon. If it even is one. The three being crew were stationed in orbit of a relatively small asteroid, scanning it's exterior for micro-organisms with which they may harvest for their dying home world. Kar'rac slowly lifted his gaze to his partner, Ra'sic, who's skin began developing a blueish tone, signifying a heightened stress level.
"Breath easy brother." Kar'rac said, swinging his long legs outward ,careful to avoid the decomposing body on the floor by his feet. Broken shards of glass are still expelled across the cold floor. The secondary vestibule window, where his leader, S'kroal, had been standing only moments before, shattered unexpectedly when this strange object hurdled through the thick panel. It struck S'kroal's head with enough force to eviscerate it, leaving in it's wake a mass of carnage. Perhaps a second after the panel itself was destroyed, the internal defense system of the vessel kicked on, forcing a secondary barrier to automatically replace it.
"Ra'sic, contact control and request a medic along with an analyzer."
Ra'sic took a slow breath, allowing his flush skin to return to it's pale grey complexion and began toward the main comm's on the north end of the small craft. Once he had left the voyager compartment, Kar'rac snuck to the idle metallic deivce. Walking in short steps, he studied the strange engravings along the surface of it. Fine lines both horizontally and vertically were carved along the surface in even groups. Kar'rac knelled down to inspect this material closer. A group of symbols stretched across the center. The markings seemed awfully similar for some reason.
The light slapping of bare feet delayed his focus. "An over-seer is en-route brother, along with the medical staff you requested." Ra'sic stated as he entered the room. "Main control advised us not to touch anything until they arrive."
Kar'rac took several steps away from what remained of S'kroal. "I don't understand how our defense system didn't register this *thing*." A sudden chill washed over him. He turned to look out of the eastern study. A massive blanket of darkness swelled beyond, hundreds of illuminated stars glistened quietly millions of light years away. He recognized a retrieval vessel as it slowly stalled to a halt in order to anchor with the voyager. Magnetic interlocks engaged between the ships, stranding them together.
Ra'sic left once more to the control dock. The primary door hissed open and several of the duo's colleagues quickly announced themselves. The last being to enter the looking room was Arn'ac, a veteran over-seer. His blackened eyes quickly analyzed the room. Broken glass, S'kroal's decapitated body. But when he saw the causer of the carnage, his shifty eyes quickly froze. Without saying a word, he took several large steps until the tips of his feet were nearly touching the alien device. He un-holstered a device utilized for quickly scanning material and retrieving necessary information.
Cast iron. Forged on a planet called Earth. Humanoid population.
"Their are symbols on it as well." Kar'rac said, stepping forward. "There." He pointed
Arn'ac scanned these symbols. *Sewer*. Roughly translating to *waste*.
"How far are we from a planet called *Earth*?" He asked no one in particular
Ra'sic ran back to the primary panel and punched in the coordinates of there location while simultaneously searching for Earth's. Several lines of numerical value appeared on the screen before him. He took note of the distance and ran back to Arn'ac. "1.7 million light years."
"Excuse me?" Arn'ac questioned. He shook his head in disbelief. The other's followed suit. "We have to relay this information to home base." With the scanning device back in it's holster, Arn'ac began briefing his crew.
"Everyone to my ship now, this vessel is under permanent quarantine."
As the small cluster of grey beings congregated to the opposing ship, Kar'rac moved to the back of the group. Arn'ac began moving forward when a heavy hand slumped onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
"What does this mean?" Kar'rac beckoned.
"I dont know yet." Arn'ac stated. "But whatever happens, it won't be good." | 2019-11-26T10:22:47 | 2019-11-26T10:18:52 | 1,406 | 124 |
[WP] Your cranky history teacher has recently been revealed as immortal. The reason they are angry is because they have to teach according to the texts when they know what really happened. One class he has had enough and begins to answer people's questions about what truly happened in history. | Alec looked at the rows of students, he said, “Kalanos died according to his wishes, by self-immolation. Rather than die an invalid he chose to be burnt on a pyre, with his master’s reluctant blessing. They say he made no sound, that he burned in silence.”
One of his students, Adam, spoke up without raising his hand first, “I call bull-shit, the man was on freaking fire!”
Alec walked up to Adam’s desk and looked at him for a moment, he was going to say something but thought better of it, he breathed carefully and said, “*We shall meet in Babylon*. That’s the last thing he uttered on this Earth. It wasn’t until Alexander the Great later perished in Babylon that it became clear what he meant.”
Susan raised her hand.
Alec said, “Yes, Susan?”
Susan said, “How did he die, Alexander, I mean?”
Alec shrugged, “Numerous theories exist. The most prominent is that he died of influenza, others say he died from drinking too much.”
Joshua asked, “What do you think?”
Alec fell into silence, his eyes seemed to be looking at something beyond the class-room, he smiled and answered, “My money’s on influenza, seems the most likely.”
It was like the room collectively sighed in silence all at once, he had disappointed them with his answer. What was he supposed to say— How could they understand when he barely did himself?
“Probably died screaming like a little bitch.” Adam told Joshua.
Alec slapped Adam before he could control himself, it was so hard his hand prickled and became red and sore, though not as red as the mark his hand imprinted on Adam’s face.
Adam staggered up from his chair, shouting, “What— what the hell, professor?”
Alec was furious, he said, “He was a greater man than you will ever hope to aspire to, Adam, Christ you are useless!”
Adam continued, “I’m going to have you fired over this, looney!”
“I watched him burn, Adam, the sweet and burnt fumes of his skin is something that I’ll never forget. He was silent for the whole burning, if only you could hold your tongue half as well as he!”
The bell rang and the students began to file out of the room, snickering and whispering, Adam turned around one last time, “You’re finished here, you hear me? Finished!”
Later Alec sat down in his office, a meagre room with a writing-desk, three chairs including his own, a shelf for his most important looking books. Behind the desk there were two large windows with green drapes at the sides. He pulled out a drawer from his desk, retrieving a leathery flask, he coaxed the wine out of it and regretted slapping Adam. Well, he could always move somewhere else, if it came to that. Could probably get away with a warning, first offence and all.
There was a knock on the door, before he could hide the flask a man in a brown winter-jacket stepped in, “This is where the *great* teacher Alec resides, yes?”
There was something familiar with this person, it almost looked like, he shook his head, “Perhaps not so great anymore, how can I help you?”
The man smiled broadly, revealing what appeared to be well-practiced laugh-lines, “I was just here to leave you this,” he put down a white envelope on Alec’s desk, the red wax seal facing upwards, he started for the exit.
Alec frowned and said, “Could’ve just dropped this off in a mail-box, why come to my office?”
The stranger stopped by the door, “Can’t trust the mail-man with this,” he turned around and smiled again, “big fan, by the way.” He said before leaving.
Alec inspected the outside of the envelope for a moment before putting it back down, he finished the wine and waved away the spectre of Kalanos, “*We shall meet in Babylon,*” he sniffed, “liar.”
*****
Not exactly sure where I'm going with this, worth continuing? Thank you for reading!
/r/NordicNarrator
**EDIT:** [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/eff4ms/wp_your_cranky_history_teacher_has_recently_been/fc14dm5/?context=3)
Thank you for the great response, everyone! | This is like my story - odd that a person writing a writing prompt on Reddit could get so close. The part about being a history teacher isn't true, but the part about being immortal is true, and the part about telling people what truly happened is true too - not only about history but about me. Nobody believes it, so I can tell it all.
If people believed it, imagine the problems I'd have. Who knows which government agencies would want to talk to me, study me - probably have doctors and scientists examine me to figure out how to expand people's lifespans based on my immortality?
Before I go on, you know, I am something of a history teacher, although not in a classroom. I tell people little tidbits of history that most people don't learn in school. For example, do you know how many cell phones were around in the 1960's in America? The answer isn't none. There were over a million by 1964/65. I was a salesman at the time. I had one in my car. The phone was a clunker, but it worked.
When do you think people started texting? You're going to say in the 1990's or 2000's. The formal history claims the first text message was sent in 1992. It was typed on a PC because phones at the time didn't have keyboards. Hogwash! Not on the facts, but on that 1992 date being when the first text messages were sent. People were sending text messages in the mid-1800's The messages were tapped with a finger and sent all over the world. It was called the telegraph. The modern version that started in 1992 made it cheaper and more private - now a texting device in everyone's pocket, and text messages sent free of charge. Back in the telegraph days, you had to go to a station, have someone tap it for you, and it cost a lot - in the early days up to $100 (thousands in today's money), and later about a quarter ($6 or $7 today).
Enough of that amateur history, Back to more important stuff.
First of all since it's Reddit - an AMA is in order. The first question people might ask is "how does this immortality stuff work?" The answer is, "not like you think." My body dies from the same stuff that kills anyone, but it regenerates - fixed from whatever damage was done to it. That sounds pretty nice, but it's awful. Imagine the pain of dying - crushed in a car in an accident, the body broken and failing; ripped apart by a hungry tiger; blown up by a landmine, parts and pieces and fragments scattered all over the place. There's as much pain in restoration as there was in the destruction in the first place - the same pain played out in reverse. It took a long time for restoration when I stepped on a landmine - months.
Drowning was the worst one of all. The ship I was on went down in the Atlantic, on the way from the U.S. to France. I drowned. The body regenerated, but it had sunk deep into the ocean. I could swim a few inches, die from the pressure and drown again, move a few inches, and then die again. It was 10 or so years of painstaking movement in the dark depths, painful death, painstaking movement until finally I arrived at an island called Santorini in the Aegean Sea. Oh to have gone North or South instead of East through the Gibraltar Strait. Who knows how many years that would have shaven off the trip? That trip destroyed my taste for the military life - but that's a different story.
AMA question 2: "How did you become immortal?" I was a soldier. A man was being put to death, crucified for a variety of crimes - he claimed to be a king, and that was a threat to the Roman authorities. That's what it came down to.
He was stoned and ridiculed as he carried his cross over a long path to the top of a hill, where he was nailed to the cross and crucified. He had barely complained, cried out as most men would, even when the nails were driven in to bind his hands and feet to the cross.
But finally, when he pled for water, his thirst overtaking his flesh, I pierced his side with my spear. In that moment, I looked into his eyes, and I knew - this Jesus was God on Earth. We didn't believe him when he said it - I didn't believe him - but he was. He looked into my eyes, and he knew. He knew my thoughts, my character, my spirit, the iron within me to do the work he called me to do.
At that moment, he cursed me. With his curse, he anointed me to be his weapon, to destroy the immortals, the demons walking the Earth, who would plague it through time with their evil. I would strike them down.
But that wasn't the iron. The iron was surviving through unending life - the pain of death and rebirth again and again only the smallest part of it. The greater pain is the pain of walking among men but never belonging among them, of out living everyone I loved or could ever love, watching them wither and die.
A weak man, or even a strong man like a mountain in the rain eroded over time, would fall to that pain, shy away from it, hide, break, become consumed with fear and hate, become evil himself. Not me. Jesus, God, looked into my eyes and knew it all. I would not break under that unending pain, although it would torment me.
More later. | 2019-12-25T06:34:56 | 2019-12-25T06:32:11 | 257 | 124 |
[WP] The scientists looked puzzled, trying to figure out how the man in front of them got there. The note tied to his hand wrote: "Dear Universe 441-B-2, he's your problem now. May the luck be on your side." | "He's awake, Ma'am," a blue-suited guard said. The young man stood at the door to the director's office holding a small brown paper bag. He raised it to show her as the short, red-haired woman left her desk. She gave the guard a smile.
"You brought it, great!" She was genuinely excited about talking to their visitor. The guard followed his boss through the bright, tight maze of corridors and offices. Eventually, the director walked into a large gym-like room; the guard waited outside. A clear cube sat in the center of the room with a ragged man standing within.
"My name is Director Hastings," she said as soon as she reached the glass wall. "I hope you have some answers for us." She pressed the first page of the message that arrived tied to his wrist against the glass. "Why are you a problem?" she asked. She hoped he did not know that the rest of the message detailed his issues; she wanted to see if he would try to lie.
The man stumbled closer to the glass on bare feet. He wore a comfortable flannel robe and matching sweatpants provided by the researchers. He arrived in their universe buck naked and somehow standing while unconscious. Several blood-soaked bandages dotted his chest, arms and legs. The lab workers cleaned him up, carefully, before tossing him in the cube.
His eyes traveled over the document as if he were reading it for the first time, and he chuckled under his breath.
"441-B-2?" he smiled. "Man, I'm so glad to be out of *that* universe." He raised his right arm and pointed at a fresh bandage. "Thanks for this, by the way. Pain's gone too," he smiled. "My name's Julius."
"What happened, Julius?" she asked.
"Tattoo removal, sandpaper style." The Director's face blanched slightly; her alabaster skin somehow looked whiter for a moment.
"So, they tortured you?" She asked. When he mentioned the tattoo, she remembered his note discussing tattoos. The prisoner shook his head and shrugged.
"Hurt like hell, but they weren't doing it to torture me. It was just the fastest way to strip my tattoos before they sent me here."
"Why?" Director Hastings asked. "Why did they remove your tattoos and why are you a problem?"
"You guys know about Unique Souls on this Earth yet?" he asked. The Director shook her head. The note gave a brief summary, but she wanted to hear his explanation.
"I am what's known as a Unique Soul. There's a lot of other stuff to it, but the important thing is if I get the number 40 marked on my skin,..." Julius lifted his left leg, tugged the pajama leg up, and pointed at a bandage on his calf. "...like I had here, I get special powers. The numbers and powers are different for other Uniques but in my case, I can control scorpions." The Director looked him up and down.
"Did all your tattoos have the number 40?" she asked. Julius shook his head.
"Nah. They were scorpions. Another thing I can do is give life to pretty much anything that represents a scorpion, like..." he gestured at his numerous bandages. "...scorpion tattoos."
"Are you a danger to this Earth? Are you evil?" Julius laughed obnoxiously hard.
"Evil? Hell, I don't know. It's all a matter of perspective, and that changes from Earth to Earth. Evil on Earth A does not necessarily mean evil on Earth uh... 440-B-12."
"441-B-2!" She was quick to correct him.
"It matters less than you think," Julius shrugged. "I can't tell you if I'm evil or not, but I can tell you I'm honest and not an intentional asshole."
"So why did they kick you off that other Earth?"
"They're not fond of Uniques. They think we attract attention," Julius grinned and shook his head. "Any that are caught are stripped of their tattoos and shipped off to another Earth. I was passing through and got picked up in a coffee shop."
"Carl!" Director Hastings called the door; the guard walked in carrying the paper bag. Director Hastings reached in as soon as he reached the glass cell.
"I'd like to see a demonstration," she said. She pulled a small blue and green plastic scorpion from the bag and held it on the palm of her hand. Julius shook his head, then he pointed at his calf again.
"Sorry. No number, no power."
"Ah, right," she nodded then reached into the bag again. "I'm sure this'll be enough to help you overcome that obstacle." She withdrew something small in her hand and pushed it through one of the air holes in the cell. It landed on the ground with a high-pitched metallic sound and bounced several times. Julius crouched to pick it up.
"You're kidding me?" He held up a silver dollar.
"Sorry," The Director smiled mimicking his earlier sentiment. "When I said I wanted to see a demonstration, I didn't mean your abilities. I meant your determination."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #035 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | A man with a beard that was so dirty other beards were growing on the front of it limped down a hallway towards the Information Extraction chambers. Leather squeaked as he came to a halt in front of one of the cells.
Ed, Director of Information Extraction, was sitting inside with an entry level *Business to Business Sales Professional*. “This one ain’t right in dah head!” He muttered frustrated.
The man in the leather chaps growled in contemplation. “Think it’s that bad eye yah got Ed, interfearen’ with yur’ depth perception.”
Ed held up the pair of frayed wires and absentmindedly clicked them together. They sparked obediently. “Dunno,” Ed said. “Seem to be gettin’ on fine now that I got the patch.” He touched the wires to the chest of the husk that sat in front of him bound to a chair.
There was predictable howling and a bit of a gurgle, but it wasn’t quite the *go getter* attitude the man in the chaps was looking for, not yet.
“Lower,” he said.
Ed held the cables out in front of the fellow’s belly. “I see what yur’ gettin’ at sir, bit o’ the softer stuff–”
“Lower,” said the bearded man outside the cell.
Ed’s eye grew wide. He clicked the cables together again. “As yah wish Mr. Barnagain,” he said. Ed went lower.
There was a vague hint of barbecue floating through the air on unrestrained screams now. Barnagain, Space Barnagain, as those close to him called him, smiled and continued his walk down the metal corridor. He stopped at one of the viewing windows and looked out at his fleet, which had gotten a ship stronger just last week.
One day soon, he thought, that man on the chair would be flying a ship just like it. Or at bare minimum, he’d be getting rid of an infestation on another. This was how Barny thought of the bureaucrats who were fool enough to fly into his sphere of influence.
After all, the B2B Professional only had one test left to pass. As was tradition, he’d be placed in another cell with a former shipmate and a gun. The gun would have a single slug in it. The door to the cell wouldn’t open again until the guard heard a shot.
Barnagain wasn’t the least bit worried about the results; he had high hopes for the chap. Besides, the system worked. All six of the ships that formed his modest armada were flown by fellows just like him. Fellows who’d seen the light and decided to embrace their inner *Self-Starter*.
“Ah,” Space Barnagain said to himself, still staring through the semi-digital window. “Another lovely morning in the Kuiper Belt.”
Almost on cue the SS William Hurst, Mr. Barnagain’s flag ship, rattled as a building might in a shallow but gentle earthquake. The ship to ship clamps had just found their mark on a stranded science vessel.
Inside one of the laboratories on the stranded ship, three scientists were standing in a half circle around a man in khaki shorts. They’d been looking for a big pool of Dark Matter, which they were nearly sure they’d detected out here. Instead, they’d just found this fellow. At the moment, he was fiddling with a rather ancient looking metal detection device saying things like: “Confounded contraption! Bloody Rube Gold- ARGH!”
The thing about this man that was curious was that he’d just sort of turned up on board several months into their journey. He also had a note tied to his wrist that said, "Dear Universe 441-B-2, he's your problem now. May *the luck* be on your side." Their odd visitor hadn’t seemed particularly concerned with it.
Curious as the visitor was, the scientists were still giving him a wide birth. There’d been four of them to begin with, right up until Jared got a bit too nosy and had started poking at the man with the back of his pen. In a flash of speed that would’ve made a Cheetah blush, the man had slashed his visor, which the very intelligent men of science surmised must have some blades about the brim, across Jared’s neck and left him with another mouth… It was a pity that this mouth opened into Jared’s esophagus a bit lower down than mouths are meant to.
It’d gone further downhill after the loss of Jared. The fellow with the visor and the nose covered in sunscreen had whipped himself into something of a frenzy. There was a lot of mysterious lightening, swear words, and general thrashing about, and now the lot of them were stuck together, in a dead ship, in the only room still reliably getting oxygen pumped into it.
There was the distinct flash of a boarding grenade and the door to the laboratory burst open.
The lead scientist had time to utter, “Oh no it’s Space–BLURRGHHH!”
Jeff, Barnagain’s head of Space Whaling, had just put a harpoon through one of the men in smelly lab coats. The other two were escorted out. But when Barnagain’s newest team member went to collect the doddering fellow with the strange detection device, the guy’d whipped open his fanny pack and put a dirty screwdriver through his temple… from six feet away.
Space Barnagain was understandably frustrated. “What'd you do that for!?” He spat. “Waste of a perfectly good Administrative Assistant!”
The man calmly closed his fanny pack. “Ah, Mr. Barnagain,” he began. “Just the man I was meant to find.”
“Yah listen here!” Space Barnagain bellowed. “I’m the one does the findin’ in this quadrant!”
“Indeed, indeed,” agreed the fellow under the visor. “Which is precisely why I need you.” Space Barnagain raised his eyebrow, it was as close to an invitation to *continue living for a moment* as the man was going to get. “You see,” he explained. “I’m not from here… Where I’m from… Well, they’d call me a *Collector*.”
“An’ jus’ whatdya collect?” Interrupted Jeff the Whaler suspiciously.
The man tilted his head to and fro. “Today? A few fusion engines and a properly sized asteroid. Tomorrow…” He used his metal detector to bang on a convenient poster of Earth the scientists had hung up in the lab when their journey began.
Barnagain squinted at him. The squint said, “*Ok, keep living, but only for another minute.*”
“You see gentlemen,” the Collector went on. “When you’re trying to Collect from a hive, you want to create a bit of smoke first. That way you don’t get stung…”
Space Barnagain stroked his beard. There was nods and murmurs of agreement behind him. His crew liked the cut of this man's golf socks, and none of them much cared for Earth... | 2020-02-04T10:20:27 | 2020-02-04T08:45:10 | 66 | 24 |
[WP] The main character's superpower is the ability to speak to the narrator. Unfortunately, the traditionalist narrator is not willing to put up with such a radical plot and will do anything in his power to tell a "normal" story. | Denni arrived at school with her head down, as she did everyday. She could just look up and actually talk to people, but she did what she does everyday and listened to music.
She went over the day in her head. Homeroom, Chemistry, Lunch, English, PreCalc, and then home. It’s a mystery as to why she wanted to waste these years of her life drowning in schoolwork instead of hanging out with other —
*Nate?*
Yes?
*Please shut up.*
...
She got to her classroom and brought out her... math homework. She had tried to complete it the previous night but she gave up halfway through. What she hoped to accomplish now was unknown. She wasn’t any smarter than she was yesterday, but apparently she believed that through will power alone she could find the answers.
She overheard her classmates talking about Evan’s birthday plans. Apparently he’s going to have a huge party and she considered
*Nope*
going so that she could talk to another actual teenag—
*I’m not going Nate. I don’t want to go to a party where I don’t know anyone.*
You know Alex? You know they’d be there.
*Shut up*
She stared down at her paper thinking about how cool she could be if she actually did something for once in her goddamn life. She could actually have friends and do things outside of the excessive coursework she purposely gave herself. She was wasting the best years of her life.
*can you stop?*
She could go talk to Alex. She got up, and
Wait? Ok, she actually got up and she started walking towards... the door. No, go back! Go talk to Alex!
*Honestly Nate? You suck. I’m just trying to get through high school without the drama or whatever. I’m grabbing my novel study, Ok?*
...she got to her locker and put in her combination. She grabbed the novel that she had left in there and headed back to class.
She sat down and opened her book up... Do you need me to read it to you?
*no... but would you? Please.*
Sure. Chapter 4, the Salamander and the H—
*thanks.*
No need, you really should ask if you can have an audio version of the materials.
*why do that when I have you?*
...
...just be quiet while I read.
Chapter 4, the Salamander and the Hearth... | *\[warning, violence\]*
\-------
"I swear to the heavens, if this is another swamp I will camp here and not move for a week."
"Talking to yourself again?"
"No, I'm talking to the *narrator* as I've told you--"
His friend ignored him, peering out into the swamp with a look of fear. "Say, it looks like something big is coming this way!"
"Not my problem. I'm going to sit here and not move until we go somewhere other than a swamp. And yes, I know you can hear me!"
His shouts went unnoticed, except perhaps by the vengeful MONSTER that came roaring out of the swamp.
His friend drew a sword and prepared for battle, glancing worriedly back at the hero. "Um, now isn't a great time to be napping?"
"Not napping, making a point."
"Yes, yes, your imaginary friend is very stubborn, I get it. But perhaps our immediate survival could motivate your, er, resolving the conflict post haste?"
"Yeah, maybe, if the narrator would LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!"
His bellows served only to infuriate the beast, whose sensitive ears it must be confessed were used to high-pitched and shrill insect sounds but not those deep and echoing like that of the stubborn hero.
The beast bellowed furiously and charged, swatting aside the hero's friend like a paltry obstacle, and trampling most thoroughly the stubborn man who refused to play his part.
Then it tore the hero's bloody corpse into bite-size pieces, and swallowed them one by one, pausing only long enough to knock the deceased hero's friend away every few minutes.
"I'll slay you, you vile beast!" shouted the friend, whose voice it must be said was a much more comfortable shrill compared to the hero's noisome bellow, and thus did not provoke the beast into a rage.
Then finally, its gory work done, the beast snorted in satisfaction as it swallowed the hero's last remaining foot, then lumbered back into the swamp.
"No, Deven, why!" His friend knelt beside the bloody patch of ground, beside the pile of untouched armor Deven had been too stubborn to wear, and the sword he'd been too stupid to pick up in defence. He'd been so confident in his position, believing his meta-narrative powers would suffice to defend him from the all-powerful narrator's grasp, but now he was gone. Now another, someone worthier, would have to rise to take his place.
"Wait. *Wait.* He wasn't crazy? You're real?"
It turns out, the swamp monster wasn't quite as satiated by its meal as the new fool would like to think, for it came charging out with unbelievable stealth, ready to put an end to another fool who would dare invoke powers beyond mortal ken--
"Oh, heavens, no, I'll be good, I swear! If you don't want me to acknowledge your existence, I won't. Never again. I swear!"
Fortunately, the shrill panicked shrieks served to comfort the beast, the sound well within its preferred register. With one last snort of warning, it turned and lay down.
"Deven, you idiot." His friend sighed, collecting his armor and weapon and stowing them in the horse's packs to sell at the next town. Except the sword, perhaps. It was a nice blade. "I will miss you, if only because you were someone to talk to. Though, now I can say whatever I please, and you won't try to correct me. For your information, my pronunciation is flawless."
Deven's spirit did not materialize, but his replacement didn't mind.
"Alright, you big idiot. Let's see if I can handle swamps better than you did."
With a quick, practiced motion, she swung herself into the saddle and set off on her grand adventure. | 2020-05-09T22:38:58 | 2020-05-09T21:39:42 | 44 | 30 |
[WP] At the age of sixteen, people are shown a title that they will earn in the future from Fate herself in a special ceremony. Usually these titles can range from "The Baker" to "The Kind" or even "The Conquerer". You turn sixteen, and are faced with the title of "The Godkiller". | Understandably, the God's failed to see the humor in my new title and as I would soon discover, God's are firm believers in preventive maintenance.
Thus, began a new phase in my life, which the histories would later call "the trials" but at the time, I simply thought of as "wow, I made it to another day."
While there is some debate as to when exactly the trials began, I firmly believe the 5000 year old marble statue of Zeus which had stood gleaming at the temples entrance longer than anyone could recall, "accidental" collapse as my family & I exited the building, narrowly missing crushing me and instantly making me an orphan as my parents shielded me with their bodies, was the start.
The three bolts of lightning from a clear sky that followed and repeatedly struck the statue as it lay on my parents mangled corpses was also a pretty solid clue. I became somewhat paranoid after this.
I had always been a loner spending most of my time taking apart & reassembling things in different, unique ways or as my Dad would say with a chuckle when he would come down to my "workshop" he had built for me in the basement, mildly psychotic manufacturing.
Hermes was the first to die. In my defense, the metal cords I had stretched across the doorway of my bedroom were simply meant to serve as a barrier and an intruder alert. They apparently have a quite unforseen consequence of neatly dividing a body in 3 parts when you encounter them running at the speed of sound.
Apparently, while Hermes had no trouble moving through bricks, mortar and all the other solid objects which regular people have to walk around, metal cords coated in the tears of an orphan have a more insurmountable effect.
I woke up to the sound of objects hitting the floor, splashed in golden "Ichor," their version of blood. Even as he lay on my bedroom floor, neatly dissected in pieces I could see the hatred in Hermes golden eyes, "you will die by our hands he said, this is known," glaring at me as he lay there dying, bleeding, ruining my favorite rug.
I picked up the short golden spear laying next to his upper torso, feeling a quick white hot pain as I did so which passed almost immediately, my fear by this time had metamorphosized into a hot blinding rage. Killing my parents had not been enough, now the cowards were trying to kill me in my sleep, I stepped forward and slammed the Spear right between Hermes eyes, the unexpected strength behind my thrust and the ease with which the Spear passed through flesh driving me to my knees beside him.
I looked in his now blank, dead eyes and whispered "yeah, I kinda doubt that." I had really liked that rug...
PART 2:
It was nighttime, a cool clear starless, perfect summer night and I was running for my life.
Athena Goddess of War, was apparently taking my stabbing her boyfriend Hermes in the face more than a little bit personally and seemed quite willing to return the favor, I was inclined to decline.
In retrospect I should probably have seen this coming, I mean the permanent lightning storm above my home which arrived a day after I dragged Hermes various chunks down to my workshop for "repurposing," should probably have been a clue the Gods were unhappy; but my self invented lightning conductor was working flawlessly, so I let Zeus rage. I was pretty sure he wasn't going to come down personally to find out what happened to his assassin and if he did...well, no sense worrying about that, at best I could hope for a quick death.
Content in the knowledge Zeus was limited to tossing lightning for now & figuring the mystery behind Hermes disappearance and presumed death would be enough to keep the other Gods at bay for a while I took a minute to breathe.
I flashed back to that night, the night right after my whole world was flipped over & I was named the God-Killer, right after I lost my parents & I had finally sobbed myself to sleep and then the Gods had tried to murder me in my sleep.
I realized in that moment, I was doing my best to avoid thinking about some parts of that night & in that moment, my mind flashed over to "The Spear."
I had just gotten off my knees, after assisting Hermes on his journey to the underworld and I tugged the Spear out from his skull, it came out smoothly just as clean as when I picked it up, no trace of blood or brain matter, gleaming as if newly forged. I looked at it admiringly, it felt light but well balanced, great for throwing but also excellent for stabbing as dearly departed Hermes had recently discovered and as I stared at it a visible surge of electricity moved through it.
Woah! I thought, startled, I dropped the spear. It didn't fall. It rotated in the air with the sharp end pointed downwards and just hung there. I stood there mouth open, too shocked to run and then I heard a laughing female voice in my head, " you'll do," it said and then the spear floated over to the wall by my bed, stretched out until it was a full sized spear and the voice said again, "don't make a habit of dropping me though, I don't like it and wake me up when there are more God's to kill, I could get used to that." That was it, this was all way too much for my poor over stimulated brain, I passed out.
Pallas Athena, Hunter, Goddess, one of the most ancient and proficient of serial killers and now vengeful lover, yeah my hands were full. I had decided it was safe enough to go out and get some food, the lighting had become routine and I had thoughts on how I could use it to power some experiments I had been working on, in short I was distracted as I walked towards the town center.
My first clue something was amiss was the sound of horses, that's weird I thought idly, not really paying attention, it wasn't a very large town and while people owned horses they were rarely used near the town center itself, with the usual crowds walking was much more efficient.
My second clue was a loud female voice, booming down from roughly 50 feet above me "MORTAL! She called, YOU WHO WOULD BE KNOWN AS THE KILLER OF GODS, I ATHENA DEMAND THE RELEASE OF OUR MESSENGER HERMES, LEST OUR WRATH BEFALL THEE!"
I slowly turned and looked up, already realizing I was screwed beyond belief. Cursing myself for my carelessness, I tried to bluff my way out. "Can't do it," I said, "he tried to kill me so I took him out," and before I could stop myself I added, "he ruined my favorite rug by the way, do you know if ichor washes out? It really held the room together..."
I was running before the first arrow pierced the ground where I had been a second ago, the concussion from the arrow caused me to stumble, but I kept my balance, I had to get home, to the spear.
From somewhere above and behind me an enraged female voice boomed out so loud it hurt my ears, "YOUR RUG?? YOUR FAVORITE FUCKING RUG!!!??? | Society has come a long way from what we used to be, to eliminate risks, we now operate without the willpower of the individual driving our choices but rather with the betterment of the collective in mind. We also no longer choose things like clothing, hair or life styles for our selves any more, moreover they are chosen for us.
Our cloths are all the same, made 100% out of cotton, and are milky gray in color. They come in two options tshirt and caprese, or long sleeved and sweats, with a sweater or rain jacket depending on the weather. These items are found in our computerised wardrobes, each morning and are returned into it each evening, to be exchanged for white-ish pajamas to wear over night.
Our whole society is basically computerized now, down to the personal stuff in the bathroom, where each morning my bathroom mirror lights up as I enter the room and greets me. "Good morning Maggie," it says in a womans English accent. Once I respond it begins to analyze my vitals, my hygiene routine, the length of my hair and yes even my diet, but we wont get into that last part.
Up until we turn sixteen our only job is school and simple chores around the comunity. School is fairly basic, mainly focusing on our societal beliefs, and instilling kindness and empathy above all else. Humanity as a whole now has a collective responsibility to maintain peace and harmony, we no longer have emotions like greed, envy, hate or even jealousy and We no longer believe in things like gods, Angel's, devils or demons. Those things have been stripped of us as a species for the betterment of us all.
When we turn sixteen we are finally told who we are destined to be buy F.A.T.E She is a peice of
Fundamental. Analytic. Technological. Equipment.
Or "Fate" for short, and we call her a "she" because of her english accent. Our entire societal system is ran by F.A.T.E she is what keeps us healthy and fed, sheltered and warm, organised and structured. She was designed by what was left of society after a nuclear war, inorder to protect the generations to come, and is also what protects us from deteriorating back to the chaos that was before her.
Everyone must undergo the enlightenment ceremony, it's the law, for it is the only way we will know who we are ment to be. Only those who are turning sixteen that day and they're parents are permitted to join in the celebration, but every day there is a new group of kids entering the facility, so it seemed like the festivities never trully ended.
I had waited my whole life for the day I turned sixteen and would finally be told what my future would hold. The possibilities where endless, people where handed amazing life styles simply based on what fate decided for them. Others where selected for much less glorious life styles like gardeners, or garbage men, but each and every person i had ever seen after the ceremony was overjoyed by recieving fates hand that she had dealt for them. I would be no different, of that i was sure.
As the day grew nearer though I couldnt help but feel overwhelmed sometimes by my emotions, and i had to quickly remind myself to draw them back in on a few occasions. The curiosity and wonderment became too much for me one day and I finally asked my mother about her ceremony while we tended her section of the garden. She, like all the other adults, showed no emotion in her response, and simply said, " Maggie we aren't aloud to discuss those things, it will all become clear to you when it is your enlightenment." I could tell I was going to get no where with this so I decided to just dropped it.
Before I knew it the day was apon me, my mother removed a white silk and lace dress from my wardrobe, holding it up high, looking extreemly proud as she did. "it is tradition," she said as she carried it over to me gently, "that you wear a dress to your ceremony."
Having never seen such a beautiful dress before in my entire life, and I couldnt wait to feel its material against my skin and could hardly contain the excitement I felt. My body shook from nervousness as I put it on.
The dress slipped on me fitting like a glove, hugging my body tightly, and gave me a sense of security in a way, like a warm hug. My mother smiled lovingly at me and then called to my father who was eagerly waiting in the other room. When he entered his face lit up with joy, seeing them both this happy, the happiest i had ever seen them, filled my heart, and put my mind at ease about what was to come. What ever it may be.
We said a quick good by to my younger brother, before leaving for the large ceremony facility in the center of town. As we got closer I began to notice more and more young girls and boys all wearing white dresses and suits. Each accompanied by their parents, heading in the same direction as we where, i assumed the obvios that they where all of age and making they're way to the facility as well. I could feel my nerves begin to rise again as we entered the massive, shiney building. My mother wrapping her arm around my shoulders instinctively.
I had never seen the inside before, it was breath taking, and I couldnt help my self from grinning like a fool. There where families lined up being greeted by what appeared to be a receptionist, who then directed them down a long hall. It wasnt until we made it farther up the line that i was finally able to see down the hallway. There was a set of large doors at the end, and as each group made theyre way through them i tried to catch a glimpse of what laid beyond. I nearly didnt realise the woman speaking to me from behind the desk i was in such a trance. "Miss, your name?" The slender blond said once again in a calm tone. "Oh I'm sorry, I'm Maggie, Maggie Ray." I said embarrassingly. She gestured for us to make our way down the hall way, and my mother gently tugged on my arm.
As we got to the large metal doors I wondered what could lay on the other side, was it going to be an auditorium perhaps, or possibly a conference room, could it be another hallway to go down, that would lead to another and another after that? My body grew stiff as my father reached out to grab the handle, while my mother whispered beside me, "dont be nervous honey."
As he opened the door though I seen what appeared to be a medical facility setting. A nurse, or so I thought, quickly greeted us, directing us into another room that had a surgical table in the middle, a computer desk in the corner and two chairs to one side of the room. "Lay down on the bed," she said as she pointed in its direction, "a specialist will be in with you shortly." Walking away she whispered something to my parents before exiting the room, they both sat down quietly on the chairs beside the wall.
Before I could say anything to them there was a knock on the door, a man walked in wearing a grey track suit of some kind, holding a clip board. "Maggie Ray, right?" He asked as he looked up at me from the file clipped to the board. "Y-yes," I responded shakily. "There is nothing to fear, you are in good hands." He said, walking over to the computer desk and typing something into the keyboard. He looked up at me as the lights began to dim, " okay maggie we are ready to begin your enlightenment," as he spoke shackles came out of the table, seemingly from no where, holding my ankles, wrists, waist and forehead in place. I cried out for my mother as I was trully scared, but she once again answered in an emotionless tone, " dont worry honey, everything will be clear soon."
The last thing I remember was a piercing pain in the back of my scull from where the needle struck my spinal cord. Almost simultaneously I could feel the emotions being stripped from my body, my desires, interests and hobbies all washing away. I remember having her voice in my head, constantly reminding me everything would be okay, that this was all as it should be. To trust in her, for she is all knowing. Fate could be so nurturing at times.
When I woke I knew what I was ment to be, but it confused me. I was destined to be a god killer, but we know there is no thing as a gods. Dont we? | 2020-08-15T03:54:11 | 2020-08-15T00:04:36 | 66 | 45 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt | I suppose turning supers into celebrities was inevitable. Society loves flashy, interesting, and dramatic. It didn't help that when the first few supers revealed themselves, they did so with a camera crew behind them. Instant celebrity status within an hour. A decade later and you *had* to be flashy to be a hero. Or a villain. If you weren't, well the world just ignored you. Can't be a terrifying villain if nobody cares that you even exist.
Which is why I never bothered trying. My power was pretty useless, neat, but useless. Nothing ever fell out of reach for me, and I didn't need much help getting things off the top shelf (an amazing boon being the tiny woman that I am). Instead, I chose to become a doctor of General surgery instead. While obvious in hindsight, turns out minor telekinesis with a kilogram weight limit is an almost perfect power to compliment any surgeon. Still, superheroics was something I largely ignored. I was a *hero*, just not a *super* hero, and even well known in the medical field due to my skills with a scalpel, and that was more than enough for me.
It wasn't until I single-handedly incapacitated the terrifying villain Monstrosity that the world took notice of me... Only to forget about me just as quickly when they saw that I was a rather ordinary lady despite being able to quickly and easily take down one of the strongest villains in the world. So the world classified me as "S Tier" and that was that. At least, until the next supervillain. And the next. And the next. I don't know what it was about villains and *my* hospital, maybe it was just the idea of trying to beat me. Fortunately for my hospital, my weak power was so fine tuned that I could clamp off a vein or artery, apply pressure to the brain in the right way, or knock around some inner ear bits to quickly and efficiently knockout anybody that attempted to threaten us.
Even Leech, who could "borrow" the powers of any super within a hundred yards. Poor kid thought he was about to rule the world. Unfortunately for him my power was so mundane without my specialized training that he didn't even realize what power I had before I knocked him out, too. It didn't matter who I faced, how flashy *they* were, my unassuming self and vehement opposal to bring a celebrity at all let me remain... Surprisingly anonymous. And eventually, villains gave up trying to challenge me as well. I was just too powerful with my measly telekinetic power. | The Overlord stood suspended in the air over the city. He tightened his thin white leather gloves and smiled his cruel smile. He dove through the air towards the city, the wind rippling his long dark hair around his face obscuring his features. Despite the speed of his descent he was able make his landing look as casual as you or I may step off a curb.
“It is over, you have been defeated, Blink.” As he approached my battered body I watched in horror as he removed one of his gloves gently and his almond colored hand transformed into a meat syringe. I attempted to struggle to my feet, desperately wanting to get away. My body failed me, my legs had the strength of wet noodles and I couldn't get to my feet.
“Now, now Mr.Blink. Don’t be scared, you'll just be another part of my collection.” The overlord lightly tapped his now syringe looking hand with great affection. He reached out, the smell of oil he used to keep his gloves supple slid inside my nose increasing the dizziness I already felt. I felt his hand on the top of my head and pathetically attempted to smack it away with no success. The Overlord reared his arm back and drove his syringe into my chest. There was no pain initially, just the penetrating feeling of having something foreign enter my body without my consent. Then came the pain. I small trickle at first that roared into a great flood of pain centering around the point of the syringe poking my organs. A wet slurping sound proceeded the Overlord removing himself.
“At last, I will finally be able to teleport. No one will be able to catch me ever again.” The Overlord started cackling, but his laughter petered out when my own laughter could be heard. The Overlord observed me closely as I finally gained my feet in front of him, the pain in my chest a dull ache now.
“Why don’t you go ahead and jump away Overlord? I clearly can’t stop you.” The Overlord flicked his wrist and the meaty hand syringe transformed back into his normal hand and he slipped a white leather glove back on. He was acting cautious, something in my words was holding him back. I drew my weapon, a large fan blade, and held it in front of me. The overlord threw his hands up in mock fear.
“Oh my Mr.Blink, I have no desire to get smacked across the bottom by your weapon.” He smiled his cruel smile and disappeared into nothing. As fast as I could I leaped forward and swung my fan blade down. I felt no resistance to my swing, but I flipped the blade over and saw a small red splash on the underside of the fan. A deep sigh of relief escaped my lips, the battle was over and I collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion. Civilians started to peek out from inside their buildings and bodegas. Not wanting to be questioned or blamed for the damage I activated my power. I felt myself growing very small, wings sprouted from my shoulder blades, extra arms from my ribcage. My vision shattered into thousands of tiny images coalescing into one singular image. I lept and flew away from the scene. No one turned their head to follow my movements except the stray cat that had wandered by to survey the scene. I gained altitude and escaped the scene before the cat could swat me down. The townsfolk were in awe.”
“Blink teleported away again! What if the overlord comes back?”
I laughed to myself as I landed on a window ledge, no one would see the overlord ever again since he was a small smear on my weapon now. A roar sounded behind me, and I turned to see a small child opening a window.
“Gross a Fly.” Was all I heard as a shadow appeared above me.
The young girl wiped the remains of the fly off of her hand and scampered to the kitchen to steal a cookie before dinner. | 2020-12-02T07:54:05 | 2020-12-02T07:17:43 | 214 | 100 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt | They called me in for another PT today. Said he had just finished sucking up Dennis Menace's power and was wreaking havoc on East 6th. After I finished my sandwich(Hey, my powers take a LOT of energy, and that was a drippy sandwich, I am NOT coming home to soggy bread.), I grew a pair of wings and took off, soaring over the streets of Austin until I landed outside the Lodge, where the PT was busy drinking himself into a stupor. Dumbass was just making my job that much easier. I pulled my wings back into my body and coughed to clear my throat, the power thief whipping around, pointing Dennis' Plasma Slingshot at me, before he realized who I was.
"MAKESHIFT" he boomed(I would have insulted the dramatics, but that was part of DM's powerset too), shoving a table aside so that there was nothing between us, "WHAT KIND OF FOOL ARE YOU, THE STRONGEST SUPERHERO IN AUSTIN, COMING TO FIGHT THE PAIN DRAIN?"
I morphed my arm into a whiplike tentacle, and lashed it out at the guy who was apparently calling himself Pain Drain, letting him grab it. The sucker laughed maniacally, and I felt my powers enter his body, like the parasite seeking a new host that they were. He opened his mouth to taunt me, but almost immediately his tongue sprouted hair and eight legs, and his limbs twisted and contorted, leaving him on the ground not in pain, but confusion as he lost all resemblance to a human outside the skin color. I pulled up a chair and asked the bartender who was still shivering in fear behind the bar for a beer, then turned to face the human shoggoth in front of me, limbs forming and disappearing in the mass, the only constant being a single pair of eyes looking at me, wondering what I had done to him.
"Shapeshifting," I said, handing a ten to the bartender as he gave me my drink, which I calmly took a swig of, "is a dangerous thing for a human mind. See, so many thoughts rush through the head at once, that it's hard to keep any one shape without being distracted by any other number of things. Having the arms of a praying mantis makes you think about the mantis-" I pause to let him see the number of mantis pincers forming all over his body and once again melting back into the abomination in front of me, "And being told not to think about a polar bear makes it impossible to get the damn thing out of your head." On cue, a coat of white fur sprang up over the pile, a bear's face forming where his eyes were. A paw swiped out, but I was too far away, and he was too far gone. I took another drink, and continued, not in a gloating manner, but in the voice of a professor who has had to repeat this lesson seven times in the last two days.
"What I'm saying is, it takes a LOT of self-control to maintain a human shape, let alone morph in the way I do. And you're not only inebriated, but you have NONE of the training, NONE of the knowledge of anatomy, and virtually NONE of the capacity to wield this power in a way that won't leave you dead in less than two minutes unless you let go of it. Why two minutes? Because I know you haven't been giving yourself lungs or a heartbeat under all of that mess." The eyes widened, and the thread I felt my powers being tugged away from me with snapped, letting the parasite of a power return to the original host. With a quick shift of my hand into a squirrel to make sure my powers were functioning, I walked up to the quivering mass, the eyes begging, pleading with me to change him back, and I plunged my other hand into the mass. My fingers popped as they fused to his skin, and I began knitting his body back together, first forming legs, then the torso, then the arms, and next the head, and following THAT with the vascular system, the nervous system, and then finally, the organs. I pulled my hand away, and picked my beer back up off the counter, the police coming in to arrest the now heavily-traumatized man. There was a reason Power Thieves didn't last long in my city, and it was because, like most people who came to Austin looking for the weird, they didn't expect the weirdness they were going to be getting. | Double-Talk is the hero name. A name the newspapers felt suited their idea of how I was stopping crimes.
“Psychic Hero Double-Talk Thwarts Bank Robbers!”
“Double-Talk Stops Assassin at Governor’s Rally!”
Yadda yadda, look calling my ability a ‘power’ is like calling a Super Nintendo a Computer: I guess you’re right, but not really, and I don’t know enough about it to tell you you’re wrong. But you are fuckin wrong so stop calling it a power.
Here’s what I do: I have the ability to psychically implant... well, whatever. Plans, thoughts, show tunes, you name it. I could have done the whole movie ‘Inception’ in about three and a half seconds but we’d miss out on Tom Hardy and that would be an atrocity. Rather than that the CIA decided I had great potential in terrorizing and manipulating world governments to their benefit. They found me after I spent the first few fucked up years of my life scrambling around the Midwest after I accidentally destroyed my home town.
How, one might ask?
One day everyone suddenly realized Santa Clause was real. It was great! Adults across the city were ecstatic, everyone started behaving nicely to get on the Nice List, crime was way down, we sent some poor fuckin mailman to the North Pole. No one in the country noticed, they thought our news stories were a cute little stunt with staged interviews.
The problem was one night, the whole city burned itself down because everyone woke up, panicking because the boogie man was real, and furthermore Gary Callahan from 4th grade was going to beat them up at school the next day. The next day, news anchors across the country speculated what caused the mass-hysteria in which an entire town had been razed to the ground, only for the residents to all be found hiding under their blankets the next day, sometimes in pillow forts.
That was when I realized everyone else had my dream. Of course I convinced my parents of this very easily given my abilities, though I just always assumed it was easy to convince people.
Federal Agents show up, Gary Callahan is removed from his atomic wedgie in the town square, blah blah blah, CIA makes me an operative.
After a few coups and inexplicable promotions, they decided I was dangerous. The more they trained me to hone my skills, the less I was able to send out the group chat like I could as a kid. I went from a flamethrower to a BB Gun with a state of the art scope.
Because of this, they were able to remove me from service under the threat of ruining me with their influence if I turned on them. So now I wear this moody detective outfit and stop bank robbers.
Oh there was this time Syphon stole my powers for about half an hour. That was a pretty good one actually, this son of a bitch didn’t even do his research and he thought I could _read_ minds. So I’m out drinking coffee and playing show tunes in this guy’s head while he screams at the waitress through a mouthful of danish that the music is too loud (what? fuck you, it’s funny and I do it all the time). Then someone slides into the booth behind me. A couple minutes later, Danish guy stops singing. Then all of a sudden I stand up and yell “Yes! This was so easy to take these powers, I can’t believe this idiot just sits out in the open like this!” and I decide Syphon is victorious once more. Then I decide what the fuck am I talking about? I turn around and Syphon’s sitting there, staring at me all confused in his stupid dark hood-cape and mask get-up. All of a sudden everyone got really upset that I was doing that and everyone (including me) started screaming that something was wrong and I shouldn’t be doing that. Then we all freaked out that we were yelling. Outside people started pressing their big stupid faces against the glass and screaming “Something’s wrong! What the fuck are these people screaming for what the fuck is wrong with this guy?!”. Then everyone turned and yelled at each other to stop before dropping everything and sprinting away. So I go running into the bar and flip over it head-first, people are smacking full force into walls, some guy went out through the window, cars are crashing. Everyone is just trying to get away from Syphon because that’s what he implanted.
So he kinda figures out what’s going on and wants to test out the power. So he tries to use the force to command the waitress over to him. Seriously, this silly fucker waves his hand through the air, grinning like a toddler, and commands her to bring him coffee. Well, we all start frantically looking for coffee. The waitress sprints to the maker. I knock her over trying to get to it. Window guy jumps back in through a different window and pretty much dies of blood loss on the spot. It couldn’t have gone much worse unless there was some asshole outside with a truckload of coffee to deliver to the cafe. So this asshole outside with a truckload of coffee to deliver to the cafe comes straight through the wall and delivers a crate of coffee and 3000 pounds of truck into Syphon’s silly little caped skull and now I have my powers back.
Took me a couple hours but I made sure everybody thought it would be a great idea to pitch in and contact their insurers about a “Hero/Villain-Related Injury and/or Destruction of Property” clause that everybody pays into nowadays. Then I moved on to the next city, and here I am, ready to serve and protect, and kill people with coffee. Or halt a bank robbery by making the leader of the group think of an actor with all of his mind, but I make sure he can’t think of their name, that’s a good one. Make him google it mid-robbery and then the other guys panic because they know they’re next...
So... thanks for the interview...
..now fuck off. | 2020-12-02T09:06:54 | 2020-12-02T08:20:52 | 89 | 38 |
[WP] A trio of friends are deep in the woods on a camping adventure. Having agreed to only use their phones for one hour a night in the evening, they switch them on to hundreds of notifications. They wind their radio up and every station crackles with the same emergency broadcast. | "All right guys, one hour." John said as he pulled out an old kitchen timer. He set it, then placed it in the table. "Ready? Go." John started the time as Kevin and Nick frantically turned their phones on. The agonizing few seconds that every phone takes to boot up was precious few seconds they wouldn't have online. It was the third evening on their trip and they were almost desperate to learn of what they had missed.
"One of these days they are gonna make a damn phone that's ready to use the moment you turn it on." Nick said, idly spinning his phone in his hand. "Now I see why no one ev-." His phone erupted in a flurry of pings, pops, and dings as every service on his phone went off at once. Again and again notifications flashed across the screen almost too fast to read. A missed call here, new text there, Snapchats, Facebook, all fighting to be seen.
Nick looked up and saw kevin go pale. Whiter than he had ever seen the man. John was fighting to read what he saw and was muttering to himself. "Uhh, guys? You seeing these too?"
John lept to his feet, his face red with anger, and slammed his phone into the table, shattering the screen. "Why does technology have to be so damn complicated! If I wanted someone to nag at me all day I'd have stayed home with my wife!" Sighing, he sat back down and examined his now useless phone. "Seeing what?"
They both looked at kevin, who seemed to be the only one who truly understood the situation they were in. He said nothing, and simply grabbed his pack and pulled out his emergency radio. Shakily, he tuned back and forth trying to find the right frequency.
*Static*..."-gency"...."-st station"...."This is not a test. This is the Emergency Broadcast station. This is not at test."
John reached out toward the radio, "Turn that thing up, I can't here a dam-!"
"QUIET!" Kevin slammed, and there was silence. No howl of the wind, no shaking of the trees and grass. Not even the shakey breaths of the three horrified men.
It was broken by an all too familiar sound from that tiny old radio.
"We have been trying contact you about your vehicles extended warranty....." | "Warning, The void has opened" said the radio flickering between static and barely bearable sound. The woods were dark and the mist wall hallow. "The void?" I asked confused, been surrounded by a layer of anxiety. "Probably a jo-" John said before pausing, a pair of eyes tinted in a purple glow looming towards us. "What was that?" Thomas asked before suddenly something began dragging him into the darkness of the forest. Pine trees barely masked the unbearable screams we heard. "RUN!" I screamed as we both ran into the darkness before suddenly the campfire burnt out.
Water dripped from the pine trees. Those purple eyes still running in our direction. Suddenly the forest seemed to turn into spikes as trees collapsed due to something unseen leaving spiked trucks behind. The wind increased as more trees fell snapping into spike which could impale us if we didn't act carefully. We stopped, seeing an endless looking pit in front of us. We ran around it but suddenly John was violently grabbed from behind, suddenly been dragged into the darkness.
It began to rain as I ran out of breath. Ahead of me lied an old house, it was cracked with planks across the windows, surely I could hide. I opened the door and hid, as the eyes drew closer, but they held some form of respect for the house as they did not try to touch it. I walked in, it was seemingly abandoned except for the fireplace. A surprisingly large fire burnt, tinted in a strange purple as if someone was burning salts. Above the fireplace was a picture of a happy family, 4 people, each smiling at a camera. It stood out as the only modern thing inside of this relatively old fashion cabin. The bricks around the fireplace had faded into black ash.
The creature continued to lurk outside, still staring with a clear intent to harm inside of its eyes. It suddenly charged at the window breaking through, clearly having only given me a feeling of safety before slaughtering me too. Suddenly, however, the room became overwhelmed in a tint of purple. A stream of blood flowed across the floor as a man walked out of the fire. I remained silent hiding behind a table. The man was Thomas, his eyes suddenly surrounded in a purple glow. "Where is he?" Thomas asked his voice distorted by a wave of screaming. "There" the creature pointed directly at the table I was hiding under.
The fire burnt out as Thomas walked towards me, his movement decaying into a limp. Thomas picked me up, raising me to his cold, purple eyes and casting his cold mist filled breath onto my neck. "Please!" I cried as Thomas began to intensify his grip on my neck, not wanting to choke me, but break my neck. However, before he succeeded he suddenly dropped me to the floor. I felt a strange coldness drift over me as in the corner of my eyes I saw a shadow. Suddenly, someone's head flung upwards in my sight. I turned revealing a cloaked figure holding the now headless corpse of the monster who chased me. "I've warned you, time and time again" the cloaked figure as the room became tinted in black and white light with a circle of purple casting through the grey line which should have lied there. Thomas suddenly spoke "Who are you?" a mist of distortion lying over it.
"My name is Chaos" the cloaked man said, seemingly floating in the static void of time. Suddenly Chaos spontaneous appeared behind Thomas now holding a strange staff. "Now finally... DIE!" Chaos suddenly slashed the staff which was coated in the purple lightning. It impacted Thomas tearing him in half as I sat there crying, losing everything to the shadows, with nothing to bring them back. "Calm down" Chaos said reaching for my hand. "Let me fix this" Chaos said before suddenly appeared in front of a truck. I looked up seeing all of my friends alive, setting up to camp...
**(Hope you enjoyed it!)** | 2021-04-19T14:58:30 | 2021-04-19T09:51:53 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] Last names are assigned at birth by an oracle, and 90% of people find themselves in a related profession. For instance "Miller" or "Baker." Your last name, "World-Ender," has made life rather difficult. | He turned to the stranger next to him. "World-Ender? What will people think? Will they judge me by this name and think I'm that I'm going to bring about the end of the world? That I'm going to usher in the demise of humanity as we know it? That name is going to label me forever as a monster! What will my friends assume about me? What will all my neighbors say?"
The stranger, nonplussed, shrugged his shoulders. "Well it could always be worse."
World-Ender nodded slowly. "I guess you're right Mr....sorry I didn't catch your name."
"It's Jeff. Jeff Dickinson." | Hearing the grumbling sounds of the barn house door open, I slowly popped off of my pillow and rubbed my eyes. A man in a mangy flannel walked into the dimly lit area that smelt thickly of dust and piss. Whether it be human or animal was debatable.
The farmer held a a tray of food in his hand. Toast and fresh eggs with tea and bacon. He set it down on a lightly straw covered ground and gave a hand gesture for me to come. I hopped off my hail bail of a bed and slowly made my way to the tray as best as possible. The iron clamp wrapped around my ankle made fast movements difficult. Although I’d gotten used to it over the years. Accompanied with it even.
The moment I sat down on the ground and stared at my breakfast greedily. Grabbing at each piece and shoving it down my mouth and chewing on it quickly. The farmer placed a hand tenderly on my shoulder and I looked up at him with a mouthful toast, cooked yolk spilling down my chin a little.
“S’not going anywhere, boy,” he said with a smile while playing with the strain of wheat in his mouth. “You that your time. You earned it.”
I quirked a brow at that last sentence and swallowed. “What do you mean?”
The farmer laughed and didn’t reply, only waited for his son to finish his meal, and carefully watch his claws rip through it and sharp teeth tear apart like a feral animal. Ignoring the cutlery he was given. Since birth his son was a sight to behold. But not in a good way. The oracle gave him a name that made the farmer’s heart sink. He tried everything to keep the oracle from being wrong, but as his son slowly grew fangs, claws and body started to grow less and less human by the day, he knew the only thing he could think of was to keep the world safe was locking his son away from it. Keeping him chained up so the beast wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone.
For now. | 2021-06-19T18:31:32 | 2021-06-19T16:51:24 | 2,066 | 69 |
[WP] due to an exciting new ammendment to the constitution, service and restaurant workers are legally allowed to backhand one customer a day. | It didn't take long until the "Karens" turned it into a sick game. Showing up a half hour before closing, in a large group, purposefully heaping abuse on the poor server stuck with them.
If it had been a rough night, they were safe. If it had gone smoothly, only one of them would occasionally get hit.
Of course, knowing this group could be waiting outside for the server to get out of work soon after closing time was enough to keep many servers from exercising their new right.
The "Karens" knew that the Amendment was intended to curb their abusive behavior, and were determined to take out their anger on the only people they had any semblance of power over.
Which is how this situation started in the first place...they had found the one person they could legally abuse to feel powerful.
Time will tell if this Amendment will be walked back like prohibition, or if the servers will escalate this little war somehow... | "Hey CJ you wanna go out for lunch?" Mike asked as he held my office door.
"I brought lunch again today." I said while I subconsciously rub my left cheek.
"Aw man you're still scared of that asshole Jake at that sub shop? I heard he's off today and that Mexican lady is probably covering for him. I've been slapped by that woman and it's not that bad."
I ponder for a bit. I've been getting bored of my home-made lunches and I do miss my favorite sandwich at that place which I haven't had for months since that new "slap a customer" law came out.
"Ok fine I'll go. I can't always live in fear."
"There ya go CJ! Hey Angie! CJ's coming out to lunch come along!" Mike called out across the office.
All three of us walk a few blocks away to the sub shop and line up along with the rest of the lunch crowd.
Angie was first in line and got her order. Angie was almost about to leave but the Mexican lady called her and reminded her of the slap.
"Oh sorry!" then Angie presented her cheek to the old lady for it to get smacked lightly.
They chuckle as Angie said "Thanks for lunch, Rosita" and Rosita nods.
"Ya know I just learned your name today. The regular please, Rosita" said Mike.
Mike got his sandwich and coke and a quick smack on the face for his trouble. "See ya soon ,Rosita!"
I was looking at the menu to check if anything new caught my fancy and when it was time to give my order to Rosita she was replaced by a big guy who I knew too well.
"Uh, where's Rosita?" I asked
"She's on break. What's your order?"
"I'll have a Reuben and a Coke, please"
The order came in quickly and I braced my self for the slap and presented my cheek to Jake. he warms up, cracks his knuckles and I see him wind up for the slap. I close my eyes but nothing happens.
"You get a pass today, sorry about the last time, I had a bad day and took it out on you and might have slapped too hard."
"Oh cool. Thanks, Jake"
"You too, Man"
All three of us walk back to the office. Some days people just have bad days and lash out. | 2021-10-05T23:26:56 | 2021-10-05T20:39:18 | 71 | 31 |
[WP] Every time you are late, you dodge an otherwise-fatal bullet. Miss a plane and it will crash, every time. Miss a job interview, the place will burn down. Today, despite leaving unfathomably early, you get stuck in gridlock on the way to your wedding. You begin to panic. | "I'm sorry little miss, but it looks like traffic is a mess, what time is your wedding?" the limo driver put his arm on the back of the passenger seat to turn and look at me.
"Noon is when it starts, but I'm supposed to be there for photos at ten," I reply cooly, checking my lipstick in my compact mirror.
Ever since I was little, Death and I have performed an elaborate dance, never touching, but bending and gliding, stretching and leaping towards one another in daring near misses. The train my uncle and I missed when I was a only a toddler derailed a few miles down the line. On my way to my first job as newspaper delivery girl, an overturned cart and ox in the road ahead delayed me, only for me to arrive to see the printing house ablaze.
At first I thought that being late meant I was being spared from a far worst fate, that it was a blessing that I should be fortunate enough to escape the inevitable embrace of Death for one more day by sheer luck. But soon I realized it was not that I was being spared nor was it good fortune. The train that derailed was filled with drug lords. The printing press kept workers in slave conditions. The innocent were left unharmed, except for their shock, while the cruel writhed and despaired in their anguished demise.
I was only an instrument to Death, a harbinger to those who would soon approach the other shore. My lateness was not so I could be spared, but so that Death should ride ahead to weigh the deeds of the just and unjust along my path.
"You're rather young, is this a match of love or by your family, if you don't mind me asking, miss?" the limo driver inquired.
"It's been arranged," I reply.
"Have you met him yet?"
"Once. I am nineteen and he is fifty-four, but he has paid my uncle a dowry seemingly worth the price of my virginity and freedom, and despite my objections. I will be his third bride."
The driver was quiet for a moment. "What does this man do for his living?"
"He is an arms dealer in Punjab," I reply.
"It looks like the traffic is clearing up ahead, miss. You'll miss the photos, but should make it to the wedding on time."
"Take the highway, I suspect there will be an accident on the highway," I say, pointing to the exit.
"Miss, that will make us even more late..." The driver glanced into his rearview mirror.
"I know," I grin, as a shadow passes overhead. | at first i thought these happenings were coincidences. house fires, plane crashes, things happen yknow?
but then it became too much to chalk it up to chance.
eventually i made a habit of showing up to things early. my quality of life improved, even if my friends sometimes made fun of me for it.
i don't blame them.
still, sometimes i was late anyways, as no matter how many precautions we make. there is always something out of our control.
this looked like it would be one of those times.
i don't know how long i have been here, but i have been trapped in my car for more than i can handle. my anxiety is rising and i worry i wont make it. i check my watch.
**2 hours left**
"fuck it" i think. i can probably make it on foot. i exit the car and make a run for it. the car doesn't matter, the love of my life is on the line.
**1 hour left**
my legs hurt like hell, my heart is pounding, every fibre in my body is telling me to stop, but i wont let it, not today. i've ran longer and faster than i ever have in my entire life, and i dont plan to stop. i know i'm getting close, the church is nearby, i can already see the town.
**30 minutes left**
i never knew walking through a town would be so tough, multiple people stopped me for multiple things, petitions, sales, and even just strangers wanting to chat with me, apparently there's a harvest festival going on, she always loved that sort of stuff.
**10 minutes left**
men in priests robes, they said that i wasn't going anywhere. they blocked the path. i kept going anyways. one of the men raised his hands, and launched a bolt of light at me, it hit me straight in the chest. i felt a sharp pain throughout my body, and i would have fallen down, but i didn't. i didn't know why, but i was able to keep going, i was able to push past their spells, even through flame and lightning alike.
**1 minute left**
exhausted and wounded, i could barely hold on for longer. i saw it, this is where the wedding spot, right in the middle of the festival. i went as fast as my injured body could take me, and there she was.
**out of time**
i was there, just on time, i could barely stand, and i would have collapsed if not for the sight of her. she was practically glowing, and she approached me, with a look of... sadness?
"i am sorry i didn't tell you this earlier, but i am not a human, but rather a spirit. i blessed you with all the magic i could muster to keep you safe on your journey, but it was almost not enough"
"honey, it doesn't matter what you are, i'll still love you"
my words were strained and soft, as i did not have much voice left
"i know that, but our love is forbidden, they knew that i would fall for you, so they cursed you"
things suddenly made sense, it got worse when i was with her, and there were more things that would try to make me late when we went on dates
i looked up at her, i didn't care about anything else then, only about her, but as she spoke my heart sank.
"i am sorry but, i cannot stay, they may curse you with things i would never wish upon you"
i almost couldn't believe it, above anything i didn't want to believe it, but this was no joke, as she continued to say those words which broke my heart.
"we cannot be together, but i will still love you, i shall cure your curse with the last of my magic, and i will never forget you."
she hugged me, her embrace being the last time we would do anything together, i could feel the warmth, and i knew how much i would miss it. she faded away, and i fell to the floor, weeping.
while i did not arrive late, she had to leave me early. | 2021-10-22T05:51:32 | 2021-10-22T04:18:07 | 630 | 51 |
[WP] Every time you are late, you dodge an otherwise-fatal bullet. Miss a plane and it will crash, every time. Miss a job interview, the place will burn down. Today, despite leaving unfathomably early, you get stuck in gridlock on the way to your wedding. You begin to panic. | The panic dissolves into laughter; not the haha laughter, this is different. You don't even understand why you're laughing, you should be crying!...then it clicks.
This whole thing was never about luck, or having some divine intervention; 'The Chosen One!' That's what I called myself once. How naïve. No, this is a curse, and I was too self absorbed to know it.
I opened the door and ran to the curb. The other drivers give me an odd look before quickly losing interest and turning their attention back to their phones; they know no one is moving so much as an inch anytime soon and that video they're watching is much more interesting. I get to the grassy curb and instantly drop to my knees. The vomit hits the ground, I can even make out a piece of lobster from last night's dinner. Between the violent gagging and puking, I flash back to that previous special night, it was to be our last dinner together as fiancés.
"What?" she says to me, with a sly smile.
"You're eyes, those green eyes of yours, they get me every time, I get lost in them" That's no word of a lie, You've always been amazed how captivating they were.
"Stop being silly" see replies, but now there's a slight blush with that smile. Your heart melts even more.
"Is that an Oreo!? When did I eat Oreos?!" down in the pile of vomit, there's now lobster, tenderloin, potatoes, and what undeniably looks like an Oreo.
"Fuck me" it's back to reality now, your nice little dream is over and here you are on the side of the road with bits of regurgitated seafood and cookies stuck to your nice tux.
I reached into my pocket and grabbed my phone, I knew what to do, I knew exactly what to do. It became clear in that fit of so called laughter, it's the reason my body suddenly went into panic mode and caused the resurfacing of that wonderful dinner. I have to do this now and I need to make sure I never put her in a situation like this again.
Never had I wanted to get something done so fast but moved so slow. I hold down the #7 on my phone, it was her favourite number, so I made it her speed dial. It always gave me a smile when I pressed it, but not this time. It rings twice before I hear her pick up.
"Hey you!" she exclaims, in her typical flirtatious voice I’ve come to adore.
"This isn't going to work" I somehow manage to say, fighting back the tears. "to be honest, I was only keeping you around until I found someone better, and I found someone else” as I try my best to maintain composure. There’s no use fighting back the tears now.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” she says, with a hint of fear and sadness.
This is good, maybe this can work, I think to myself.
“The last four years were fun but I'm moving on now. I never loved you, keep the dog, I'm blocking your number, peace!” I somehow manage to say it with a cocky condescending tone. Before she has time to respond, I disconnect and throw the phone into the tree line.
I want to let out an enormous scream but instead, I just stare in silence. I lost my two best friends today, I couldn’t even manage to say our dogs' name on the phone. We found him together on our first date shivering in a cold dark alleyway, he just needed a bath and some love, he's a good boy.
I get back in my car and start driving, the other cars honk their horns at me while I drive my little hatchback across the median and head in the opposite direction.
“I have a new mission in life now” I think to myself, “the only way I can keep her safe is for me to disappear and never cross paths again”.
I don’t know where I’m going or what I will do but I know, I have to keep moving. The slightest smirk comes across my face, although I’m devastated and broken on the inside, I know this is the only way she'll have a chance at a happy life; and that makes me happy. | I tapped the steering wheel relentlessly. Deep breaths, Heila, deep breaths. The sky is a clear blue, the birds chirp relentlessly in the distance. It's reminding me of my trip to Hawai'i, actually. Five minutes late to a bus, next thing I know it's hit a gull and rolled into the ocean.
It's not easy, you know. I wish I was just horrendously unlucky, or was a Murphy, or *something* that might give an explanation for this phenomenon around me. The world seems to uproot itself to annihilate anything and everything that I'm late for. Yes, *everything.* I once promised my parents that I would pick up my toys before they got home.
I don't have parents anymore.
After that day, I've tried to arrive everywhere earlier then reasonable. I'm proud to say that I've only ever been late to three things since then, the aforementioned bus (Cut me some slack, I met my fiancé that night.), a flight to Lagos, and a work dinner. But this was *unreasonable*. I left the hotel at one o'clock, *AM*. The wedding wasn't until four in the afternoon! But I make a single goddamn turn, just one godforsaken turn, and this endless horde of cars crawled straight from Satan's asscrack and onto the street.
I have been here for ten. *Fucking*. *Hours.* *Ten.* The wedding is another two hours away. I don't know if Kila is there yet; she knows this city better then me and was gonna take a shortcut when we left. She had me take the main road, thought it was a safer bet.
If she's there by now, I doubt she's even noticed my absence. Bless her workaholic heart, she's probably still knee-deep with the preppers to get everything ready. 's what made me fall for her, but this is an *awful* way for that to bite me in the ass.
Every minute is an eternity. The traffic is crawling slowly, so slowly. It's already noon. Eleven goddamn hours, and I think I've moved a single foot yet.
No.
*No.*
I refuse this bullshit. This fucking curse that the universe has pinned me with, I'm not gonna let it take my love from me.
I left my car in the road. I don't give a shit, I'm sure that if I can run fast enough I'll get there in time. If I have to rent out a new car or pay a fat fine, so be it, it's worth it. My legs might collapse, I might get injured getting there, but I refuse to be complicit in this nightmare.
Wait a sec. *Fuck.* *Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.* My phone. Of course the second, the *second* I remember I even had it, it's when I realize I left it in the car. No. No, I can do this. I can run.
My legs are going to snap, I swear to God. I think I've been running for three and a half hours straight or so, at least according to my watch. Evidently, though, I should be an Olympic runner, since I think I'm almost there. Just a few minutes left. I can make it.
...Chatter. What's that chatter? It's not the birds. Not trees rustling. Wait, no. There are trees rustling, but it's not that. Garbled speech, I think. No, no. No time to think I have to ru-.
No. No no no no no no no. What is happening. Who are these people? I think... five? No, six guys. Five people jumped down from the trees in front of me. 'course, I'm only realizing that now, in retrospect. They stopped me dead in my tracks, and someone's tackled me from behind. I managed to snag a look at my watch on the way down. 3:58. I'm gonna pass out. One man squats down in front of me. He's a good six foot tall, but like everyone else he's clad in some sort of tactical gear, spec ops shit. He examines me closely, and nods once. A hand to his ear, he speaks. It's muffled, but I can just barely make out what he says;
"Target pinned. Tango on-site?"
Some kind of feint buzzing emanates from his helmet. Probably someone responding.
"Affirmative. Time?"
Another buzz.
"T-Minus one minute. Counting down,"
I struggle. Hard. The man on top of me is far stronger than me, but I'm so hopped up on adrenaline right now that I can just throw him off of me. Someone shouts something from behind me. I don't care.
The little clearing that our wedding is in is just ahead. I can see bits of it peaking through the trees. I mumble something to myself. I don't know what. A sharp pain flashes through my leg. I stumble. I can just make out Kila through the trees, our families gathered at either side of the lane. I try to crawl, but something is on my back. The men again. The one from before hides behind a tree. I can see him counting down on his fingers.
5.
4.
3.
2.
1.
All is utterly, unnaturally silent for a second. Just for that second, I thought that maybe, maybe this would be an exception. But no. A sudden explosion rips from the ground, consuming the entire wedding in it's blaze. I'm dazed. I can't even cry. My ears are ringing and my eyes hurt.
It feels like an eternity. I hardly recognize the moment that one of the men slings me over his shoulder. I get thrown into the back of an unmarked van. We drive. I stare at the ceiling. | 2021-10-21T22:51:21 | 2021-10-21T20:42:22 | 156 | 73 |
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