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[WP] Murder is rare; killing someone means their remaining years are 'subtracted' from yours. Likewise, saving a life (or lives) adds time to your own. Nobody knows why. Centuries ago you killed a young man by accident (usually resulting in instant death). You haven't aged since. | It was an accident. I knew I shouldn’t have been carrying something so heavy, but I wanted to help my husband. I was used to carrying heavy things and helping around the house. Honestly, I had forgotten.
I knew when I fell down and landed on my stomach. I knew. I started to bleed. I knew then. I had been around seven months. I knew and wept.
I wept as I waited to die. My baby had died, and while it had been an accident, it was my fault. Yet, nothing ever came.
When my husband found my weeping, bleeding and the fetus having been pushed out at some point in my hysterical state. He held me, crying himself. We have lost all of our children, and have now lost another.
When the doctor came, he was surprised. I looked younger than ever before. Due to the accidental death, I should have died or at least looked very old. Instead, I was vibrant.
After checking on everything, making sure I was healthy, and taking the fetus away, the doctor left. I sat there, tears drying on my cheeks as more fell spontaneously. My husband left me at my own request, baffled and still in shock.
I sit here, holding my stomach. I do not know why I have not died. Why I am younger.
I just knew that I would miss my little Adolf, my precious baby that never got to live. | Look, I’m really not a bad guy, not really. I never wanted to be a killer. I just had no other choice. The whole thing started with an accident. Just a spur of the moment mistake, the kind of thing that happens hundreds of times every day. We’d both been drinking, words were exchanged, I walked away, he didn’t. Except really, neither one of us should have. That’s the beauty of the system- instant karma, immediate comeuppance for your crime. So why did I survive? Well, it’s not completely unheard of. They first cracked the code about 20 years after the system first began. Something similar happened to some woman in France. Turned out the guy she killed had been planning to murder his wife and her lover; unfortunately, his own mistress got to him first. So by killing him, she had saved them, and the positive years outweighed the negative. She went on another 27 years before she started aging again. Which brings us back to my unique predicament. I can hardly describe the emotions I felt that night in the bar. The adrenaline rush. The immediate regret. The impending terror as I realized what I had done, and what it meant for me. Then some sort of relief- if I wasn’t dead, it meant the man I had killed was himself going to become a killer; perhaps he had even deserved it? That’s what I told myself, anyway. Once I was able to get over the initial shock of it all, I actually rather enjoyed being ageless. The anticipation of waiting to age again, everyday becoming more sure that I had actually done the world a service by committing my crime. After all, each passing day was another day of someone’s life I had saved. But over time, it began to lose its allure. Everyone else continued to age. Eventually, they began dying. And with every passing decade, time seemed to go by faster. When each new day represents only a fraction of a percentage of a percentage of your memories, it becomes almost meaningless. Eventually, I even tried to kill myself, even though I knew it was futile. The system wouldn’t allow for it, when someone tries to kill them selves it causes some sort of overflow and they receive their own remaining years back. That‘s everyone’s best guess at least, the true machinations of the system are still a mystery. But either way, I was cursed. I was doomed to wander the earth forever. I hadn’t aged in over 200 years. Then, two weeks ago, I was sitting at a bar, trying to drown my sorrows, when the two men next to me started arguing. It reminded me of how this all began, and inspired me as to how it all might finally end. This morning, after two straight weeks of killing, I finally stared aging again. | 2020-11-02T00:43:45 | 2020-11-02T00:42:21 | 46 | 23 |
[WP] You are the result of a high school girl being given 3 wishes. She wished for the perfect boyfriend, so you were magically created. Now she’s trying to erase you because the boy next door loved her all along. She’s literally trying to kill you because “You never existed in the first place!”…… | I don't know where she'd gotten a gun. Maybe it was her dad's, pulled from the end table by the bed. Maybe it was hers, a sweet sixteen gift, you know, for protection. Regardless, it appeared before me.
Much as I had appeared before her. My first moment was looking into her eyes, terrified and curious. From that moment forward, I had been her everything. I made sure she was happy.
I cushioned the bad days with chocolate and movies. I elevated her highs with celebrations and dates. I supported her endeavors. I guided her through mistakes. I left her alone when she needed it. I never got jealous when another boy tried his hand, only got a little defensive, because I knew she liked that.
And, now she was pointing a gun at my chest. Her hands were shaky, but I was a big target. Her eyes were clouded with tears, but they were clearly focused on me, determined. She wouldn't miss, we both knew it.
"You never existed in the first place." She finally muttered. "You shouldn't have existed. I willed you into being. And this is the curse, the genie's backwards curse. He warned me. His gifts always come with an unforeseen price." The gun fell for a moment, she started pacing, I didn't relax.
"I should have known! It was so obvious... he always loved me, but he never wanted to force that on me. He was so afraid of scaring me away, that he kept his love a secret, just in case I wouldn't reciprocate. Then, he saw you." The gun came back up, more steady now.
"He saw he was losing me, simply because you were there. No one can be you. You are perfect in every way. But, that's the problem. You edge everyone else out without meaning to. I don't need my family, you're more than supportive enough. I don't need my friends, I've had more fun with you than anyone else. I don't need my childhood crush, the way you hold me makes me feel safe, and comfortable. You're perfect." She took a stance, feet spread, both hands supporting the gun. Her tears had begun to dry.
"But, eventually, it grows tiresome. You're perfect, but you're the same. Day in and day out, you're the same. You are perfect as an individual, but you're only ever just that. The individual. And, a human needs variety. Maybe you don't understand that, you're not human, not really." Those words hurt me, but I didn't show it. She needed this. She didn't need to feel sorry for me in the last moments.
"It took you existing to realize that he needed to act or he'd lose me forever. So he confessed tonight. He told me everything. How he'd protected me through middle school, never taking credit. How he'd always been my secret admirer. How he refused to date, just because he felt, in his heart, that he'd be betraying me, somehow. It's weird, yeah, but it's sweet, too. He was wrong, but he was doing his best. And, maybe that makes him more perfect, in a human way, than you ever could be." Her finger left the guard, wrapping around the trigger.
"I'm sorry, for what it's worth." There was a flash, and the bang, and ears ringing as horrible pain spread across my chest. The gun fell to her side, still gripped tight. My shirt grew wet as blood soaked into it. I heard her gasp. Maybe she assumed that I was magic, and would there fore fade away. Maybe she thought she wouldn't actually be killing me. Regardless, she was wrong.
I looked at her, eyes focusing as the pain faded. Her eyes were terrified and curious, just like when I'd first seen them. I still love her eyes.
"I'm perfect," I said, a little blood from the punctured lung dribbling down my chin, "I can't die until you have." Her face flashed with sudden fear, but I turned away, heading for the back door.
"I want you to be happy, above all else," I said over my shoulder, "even at the expense of my own happiness. So, I'm leaving. Tell him that I suddenly got cold feet. Tell him I proposed, and you couldn't do it, so I left. Tell him I was under witness protection and had to move, I don't know. But, tell him I'm gone and that you need time. Then, give him a shot. If he doesn't make you happy, find someone who does. And, if you ever need me, I'll be close enough to be there." And, I started walking.
As I pulled open the back door, a wave of cool, late-Winter air washed over me, into the house. Goosebumps rose up my arms, and a terrible feeling of dread followed. Everything within me was screaming to turn around, to make it right, to win her back, to be there for her.
But, I was being there for her. I was being there, by getting out of the way, to let her live her life without magical aid. I would never let her fall too hard, but I had to allow her to live and learn.
And, maybe someday, she'd look for me again, and I could let her find me.
\---
Not gonna lie, I really want to write more about this guy, but I gotta get back to work. | Even if what she says could be a lie, I find myself believing her. Not because it’s possible. Hell, this is the most absurd thing that I’ve heard in my entire life. No… It’s because it’s her that said it. Thinking about it, why is that I am like this for her? Even love should have a breaking point, but I can’t see mine at all. It’s somehow… scary.
“While I do believe you, erasing the existence of a person is difficult.” Is what I finally say to her after what seemed like an unbearable amount of time in which she could do nothing but cry and hug her knees in the corner of the room. In my hand I held the knife she tried to take my life with. It’s strange… even after such a thing, my feelings for her didn’t waver in the least. While I am mad and disappointed in this turn of events, my own feelings are the same. I cannot think bad things about her, not even when her actions are arguably evil if looked in a vacuum.
“You aren’t a person… you are…” stumped, she could barely continue her line of thought. I do not know if she wished me into existence because of a childish impulse, or loneliness, or whatever else, but it doesn’t excuse the fact that I am indeed here, breathing.
“I am a person, whether you accept that or not. I have a family, friends, acquaintances, and also people that I don’t see eye to eye with. I have memories and treasured moments. Even if I were created a second ago, that wouldn’t change the fact that I exist as if I was here all along.” Trying to rationalize this to myself mostly than for her, I speak my mind.
“I guess… but… what else can I even do? What can I do? What? What? What?”Grabbing at her long black hair as if trying to pull strands out, my girlfriend repeated that word again and again, in a fit that I often saw. Her hands trembled and I could hear her teeth shaking but in this case, there was nothing I could do. Even as I knew this was one of her usual panic attacks, if I were to try to comfort her she would most likely become even worse. Rocking back and forth for a while, she ended up looking up at me, her disheveled appearance making it even harder for me to stand still. “I know I am to blame.” she said with a smile, one seething in self hatred. “I am always to blame. Yes, yes. Why couldn’t I wish for something else? Why? Why? Why? Money? Good looks? A boyfriend? Why would I even think those things would help me, I wonder? I had all that power… I could have easily done greater things… but now everything is ruined… Hahahahaha… Hahaha...”
She straightened her back and stood up, her slender body being indeed similar to that of a model if anything else. She kept laughing at nothing else but herself as she kept saying things that made me increasingly uncomfortable. “That’s right… I could have wished for my parents to give a damn about me but look, instead this is where I live by myself.” She made a grand gesture, perhaps wanting to encompass the whole duplex that oversaw the city, but even that seemed more of a mockery as her expression of self disgust didn’t change in the least. “Even the body that I had was enough for the boy next door to love me for who I was, but I was too blind to see that. I even wished for you… but this is all it amounts to in the end, isn’t it? A wasted opportunity, if nothing else. That’s it. That’s it. That’s it!”
Her fist smashed against the large window frame that she stood next to. The glass reverberated but didn’t crack, the empty noise being loud enough to make me pause.
Silence followed, neither of us knowing what to say.
“Hey… Riner. Tell me. Do you love me?” She looked at me, as if trying to seize me up.
“I love you.” I responded without a second thought, fact which put a smile on her face. One that mocked my very existence.
“I see.” She said curtly and walked past me. “I wonder if that boy really loves me, or if he only found those feelings once I changed how I looked. I can’t possibly know. While I would choose him over you, I am also grateful that you helped me all this time. You do understand me better than anyone, after all.” She turned back towards me and opened her hand as if asking me to take it. Without hesitation, I did. “You know when I am speaking the truth don’t you?”
“Yes. I do.” It was an instinctive feeling, but that I did.
“Then you know that I hate both you and myself, right?” She looked me in the eye, no trace of smile of any sort of expression on her face. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
I sighed. “You know the answer, don’t you? I am the perfect boyfriend, from what you say, so I know you better than anyone, right? That might be right to some extent, but that doesn’t mean that you know what is best for you.”
“Are you saying that you do?”
“I am not. I am merely pointing out that there must be a reason why I’ve stuck around, and still do. If I were indeed the perfect boyfriend, then breaking up when the time needs me to should be in my nature, right? I am not saying that your wish is perfect, but I do want to have some faith in the genie at least, if not me.”
“I see...” she said after a long pause. “You might be right, you know? While I am betrayed by my real life, I haven’t yet by any of my wishes. If anything, I might take your word for it.” She let go of my hand and walked towards the large glass pane. “Even if he does indeed love me… what guarantee I have that he will put up with me. Your feelings aren’t fake, but his might. I understand that, but there is an element of it that makes me think of it as the better choice… I wonder why?”
Having calmed down some, her more collected self returned and with it, our conversation turned towards the practical. Since that time, I often asked myself if that was indeed the best course of action to take. It was illogical, but strengthened by one single thought, mainly that “she needs me”. I don’t know if it was arrogant of me to think that way, or if I was just another bastard with an overinflated ego, but at that moment it seemed that I became the only thing she could trust in this world. No matter what flaws either me or her had, we saw each other as perfect for one another.
Perhaps this was what it meant to be a perfect lover… I couldn’t know. That is something only the genie could answer. | 2021-01-07T03:23:15 | 2021-01-07T03:21:42 | 17 | 12 |
[WP]: No other intelligent, spacefaring life form knows the concept of sunk cost fallacy. For most of them, wars can be ended simply by presenting their capability for further war, and the weaker one yields. Humans, however, will take anyone on out of pure spite. | Barrak'domalanshavonokutumubala known to his friends as Barry welcomed the human delegation to the Dalarian Senate chambers to negotiate their surrender.
"Greetings! I hope your trip was pleasant?"
"The shuttles you Dalarians make ride *too* smooth leaving the atmosphere. I like to feel something." Chancellor Ashlyn Burr was an odd woman. Or did all humans prefer bumpy rides?
Barry offered her a tentacle.
Ashlyn grimaced at it.
"Isn't it your custom to shake hands?"
"Yes. Of course." Ashlyn grabbed his tentacle, squeezed tight and let go. She rubbed her hand on her shirt, so he rubbed his tentacle on his robe. Strange. She had brought a very large and primitive firearm to the chamber. Now that he noticed that, he noticed the other members of the delegation were similarly armed. Maybe the human religion prohibited them from putting down their weapons.
"What, you afraid of human cooties?"
"What an odd question. Of course not. We have biobots in the air right now," Barry continued talking. "My colleagues and I have written up a contract. All you need to do is sign. We'll leave a garrison on your moon, a tax collector in Ottawa and be on our way."
"What makes you think we're here to surrender?"
"Well, if my calculations are correct, in our first battle we destroyed 85% of your space fleet and accidentally destroyed Wales. Again, our apologies for that mishap. Perhaps you have another fleet we're unaware of? If so, of course we can continue the fighting. But if it's anything like your first one you must be aware that our technology far outclasses yours. So. As is customary among civilized species, we will accept your surrender and begin the trade of information and technology immediately."
"Right... No we don't have another fleet. But we aren't surrendering either."
"Is it human custom for the conquered to pretend like they haven't been? I understand. It must be a very good coping mechanism."
"Yeah. A *great* coping mechanism."
"Wonderful! We are very tolerant conquerors. We follow all of the conquested's surrender protocols."
"We aren't surrendering."
"Of course!" Barry winked at her with his third eye. "So. Any other ritual we need to follow before you sign?"
"You can kiss our human asses."
That custom was common among surrendering Booshamites. Barry wondered if they were distant cousins of the humans.
"As you wish!" Faster than the Chancellor could react, Barry slithered beneath the nearest human and pressed his beak into their buttocks.
The humans all drew their weapons. "What the hell!"
"I only did what you asked!"
A senator piped up "Maybe we all need to kiss their asses? Or maybe you're supposed to kiss hers first as she is their leader?"
"Oh dear. Was your ass meant to be kissed first?" Barry turned orange with shame.
The chancellor slowly lowered her weapon. "Oh you really are clueless huh."
"I apologize. How do I kiss your ass in the correct way?"
"Can I talk with my councilors for a moment?" The chancellor still gripped her weapon and she was looking at him with her eyebrows raised.
"Certainly."
The humans formed a circle. Barry didn't hear much of their conversation but he did catch the words "literal-minded", "sucker", and "really would do anyth...".
When the chancellor turned back to him she gave him a toothy smile. That was a good sign among humans!
"There is one human surrender ritual that should be followed. Our most sacred."
"Of course!"
"The victor *always* presents the loser with the following items..."
"Should I write these down?"
"Sure."
Barry grabbed a paper and began to write with his ink. The Chancellor continued. "The victor always presents the loser with their most advanced firearms and the specs on how to build them. They always provide them with all the specs and blueprints of their flagship. Actually on all their ships. Ooh, and guides on how to fly them. They..."
The list continued for a while. What odd requests. Finally the Chancellor finished her list and Barry sent for what she had requested.
"Is that all?"
"Yes. This will do nicely." The Chancellor looked quite regal with a Dalarian hand cannon.
"I'm so pleased. Can we sign the contract now?"
The Chancellor gave him another grin, bigger than the first.
"I don't think we will," she said. The humans opened fire. | The red dust of the Martian surface began to clear, and the truth was made evident: the humans had lost.
General Zin to his Martian brother, a somber look on his face. It was not meant to come to this. Peace was all they ever wanted; the humans could have learned much from them. And yet.
“How many of their troops remain?” Zin asked.
“Less than forty percent,” Kohn answered. Curved green characters danced across a black screen in front of him, accompanied by various beeps and hums.
Zin nodded. “It is done, then. An unfortunate loss of life, but a necessary one. Prepare to send word to the humans, let them know—“
“Uh, sir,” Kohn interrupted, pointing to the console. “They appear to be advancing.”
Zin’s scaled brow furrowed, a nervous hiss sounding in is throat. “That’s not possible. They’ve yet to take out a single one of our ships. Your equipment must be wrong.”
Kohn tapped the screen, shaking his head. “It doesn’t appear to be, sir. The humans are—“
A sudden collision rocked the ship, nearly sending the men to their knees. Zin’s four legs spread to a wide stance, keeping him steady as the shipped regained its posture.
“Damage?” he asked.
“Superficial,” Kohn answered. “Their weapons remain ineffective.”
Zin stepped to the window of his ship, a single layer of blue plasma stretched across its face. He could see burning piles of metal spread across the surface—the remnants of the human army—while his fleet remained high above the surface, hovering, unmoved.
From within the plumes of smoke several gray and tan vehicles roared across the surface, their oddly flat edges fighting against the Martian wind. Humans hung from the sides of their impractical vessels, aiming useless weapons upward at the fleet. Flashes of red shot forth, upward, doing little more than lighting up the air around them.
“Send word to the human leader,” Zin said. “Tell him I wish to meet to discuss their terms of surrender.”
Kohn nodded. “As you wish, sir.”
Several moments passed before the human assault came to a halt, the few remaining vehicles lined up behind a row of colorfully-suited humans. A message returned, one of reluctant agreement, and Zin made his way to the surface.
A small circular device on Zin’s lapel allowed his words to be translated to their language. He hated the sound it made—their words were rudimentary, ugly. Lacking all nuance of the Martian lexicon. But they would have to do.
A man stepped forward, his suit hissing and whirring as he moved. Zin approached, moving fluidly along the sand.
“Are you the leader of this force?” Zin asked, trying to hide his discomfort at the words coming from his translator.
“Admiral Jackson,” the man said. He stood straight as a board, though even with the added height of his suit, he fell well short of Zin’s height. “I’m prepared to accept your surrender.”
Zin blinked. “I’m afraid our message must not have been translated properly,” he said, silently cursing his underling for his failure. “You have lost this battle. It is you who is meant to surrender.”
The admiral raised an open palm to the air, prompting several of the humans behind him to raise their weapons in Zin’s direction.
“I’ve lost nothing as long as I’m still breathing,” he said.
Zin scanned the line of soldiers, perplexed by their actions. “Your forces have been reduced by more than half. I have suffered no losses. If this battle continues, you will all be destroyed. You must surrender. There is no other end to this.”
“We don’t surrender.”
Zin tapped the translator on his lapel, wondering for a moment if his words were not coming through clearly. Their forces could not win this battle. It was impossible. So why did this man refuse so?
“But this is the way of war,” Zin said. “You cannot win. Surrender. Survive. And we can begin our assimilation. There is much we can teach you about—“
“Like I said,” Jackson reiterated, “We don’t surrender.” His hand still held in the air, he curled his fingers into a fist.
And the soldiers behind him opened fire.
Each beam of red collided with the invisible field around Zin, disappearing with a flash of blue sparks. The hexagonal field lit up as each blast collided, though none came close to piercing it.
“This makes no sense,” Zin said, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of gunfire. “You have lost. Why do you still—“
The admiral lunged forward, pulling a small black blade from his belt. Zin dodged his advance with ease, still in awe at the sight. Again the admiral lunged, swiping and slashing at the air as Zin moved freely around him.
A buzz sounded in Zin’s ear, followed by a transmission from the fleet above.
“General, what do you want us to do?”
As the admiral dashed forward, Zin reached out with a long, curled hand, snatching the man around his neck. The knife fell to the sand without a sound, while Admiral Jackson swatted at Zin’s arm with gloved hands.
“It seems the humans no nothing of war,” Zin said, fighting his grip. The admiral’s attacks grew weaker, his fragile body failing with each passing second. With a quick flick of his wrist, Zin watched the man go limp. And then he tossed his body aside and turned back toward the shuttle that brought him to the surface.
“They wish to be destroyed,” Zin relayed to the fleet. “So be it.”
>More nonsense at r/Ford9863 | 2021-01-18T22:29:03 | 2021-01-18T19:47:06 | 344 | 178 |
[WP] Rolling your eyes in exasperation you plugged the customers unique order into the console which quickly flashed. Warning: Unauthorized access detected. Lockdown commencing. Shutters then closed all of the doors and windows. "It seems I am no longer welcome" The customer said with a grin. | "...I...I'm sorry, I need you to-"
"No cheese. No sauce. Beef on the left half. Put the pizza dough into the oven, and *cook* it." He states again, his patience clearly dwindling.
"Are you actually serious?"
"*Prepare the none pizza with left beef.* I have waited long enough as it stands. DO IT."
I sigh internally. I hate customers. Why did I get this job? Why can't people just be *normal*?
"...Right away sir..." I mumble, trying to remind myself to keep a respectful tone.
I tap the screen, creating a custom order so abominable that it makes me wince just looking at the computer-generated preview of the order.
Nevertheless, I hit confirm.
"Alright sir, that'll be $6.95-"
Suddenly, giant metal shutters slam shut all around the storefront. I look back and forth between the computer and the door, now sealed away behind a steel wall.
I didn't even know we had these. Did I push an alarm button by mistake?! I look around frantically for some way to fix this as the store front is plunged into a crimson hue.
The computer starts flashing a bright red, displaying a message.
**UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS. LOCKDOWN INITIATED**
The man just starts laughing in front of me.
"...Is this some sort of game, human?"
I back away from the countertop, feeling a lump form in my throat. I don't like his use of the term human, implying he ISN'T one.
I force myself to speak, to try and explain.
"L-Look sir, I'm new here, I-I don't know what the fuck is going on, I tried to put in your order and it just -"
"**SILENCE.** Open the gateway, or the sins of your forefathers will fall on YOUR head."
I look on in silent horror as the man's face starts to *melt*. His eyes fall out of their sockets, leaving gaping, glowing orange voids in their place. His hand slams on the countertop, looking far larger and far Sharper than I remember it looking.
"The ritual may be done in my world or yours- do not waste my TIME. ***OPEN THE GATE-***"
"Krognir, STOP!"
I hear a voice behind me. I think it's my manager? I didn't even think he was here. I can't look away from the... The thing in front of me. I WANT to look away. But I feel petrified in my terror. Like moving will make it lunge forward and bite my face off or something.
I vaguely notice my manager, Mr. Strauss, coming up beside me, and putting a hand on my shoulder, speaking to the thing with a tone I've never heard before.
"Krognir, this human has not been awoken. She is not malicious. I ask that you uphold your end of the deal, and I will uphold mine."
'Krognir' snarls, though seems to reluctantly acknowledge, and after a few moments, the Thing seems to have formed into a human shape once more. Mr. Strauss rapidly taps several buttons on the screen before us, and a red vortex appears in the roof of the shop.
"...Absolutely... Insufferable... Where is Jeremy?"
I watch as the restored human Thing walks under the vortex, and begins to float up inside of it. As his legs pass through, everything seems to go back to normal; The portal disappears, the gates rise up as swiftly as they slammed shut, and the lights are back to normal.
"Stephanie."
I flinch a little, feeling Mr. Strauss shake my shoulder.
"Where is Jeremy?"
I look at him slack-jawed for a moment. "...WH-WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! WAS THAT A FUCKING-"
"**Stephanie.** Where. Is Jeremy?"
"...J-Jeremy..? I...H-He, um, called in sick, a-asked me to cover his shift today. I think he caught the flu or something, I-I didn't really-"
"I was not notified in the change of staff. My apologies. I should have been aware of this. You shouldn't have seen this... I will need to have a *word* with Jeremy..." Mr. Strauss grumbles, his voice returning to the tone I remember him using.
He lets go of my shoulder and starts walking towards the back of the shop. I follow.
"...P-Pardon me, but what the HELL just happened?"
"It will take too long to explain. That's why Jeremy is supposed to be working today, not you. I'll give you the short version, and cover costs for therapy. First. Demons are real, though we prefer to use the term Interlopers. The Interlopers travel between this world and their own plane of existence through Rifts, like the one you saw in our ceiling. These Rifts are generally fragile, and require very specific conditions to be reliable. One such way of stabilizing a Rift is to form it in a location of high magical concentration. This pizza chain just so happens to be right on top of one; While we could have demolished the entire structure, we thought the food here was enjoyable enough to merely convert it into a dual-purpose establishment. Quite frankly, you don't just work in the food industry, you also work in Travel. Congratulations. Don't put this on your resume. Now, what I suggest you do now, is take the rest of the day off. Go back home, and just... Sit in the shower or something. Lie in bed. Process. Come back tomorrow, and we can discuss your promotion."
"...What?"
"Well, if you want to continue working here, anyway. Dealing with Interlopers isn't exactly good for the mind. But I'd pay well to compensate. And since Jeremy is apparently unreliable, I'll be needing someone like you to send the Interlopers back home. Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself. We'll talk later. Go rest, Stephanie. I'll see you tomorrow." | Dave stared at the customer, watching their lips, wondering if they would give up on trying to talk to him. It had been a full minute, and that man was still standing by the register, continuing to mouth something that Dave couldn’t hear. When it was clear the man wouldn’t leave, he took off his headphones, letting out a long sigh. “What?” Dave huffed, his heavy music still escaping the headphones, causing the stranger to grin.
“Oh, unique taste. Anyway, I was hoping you could place an order for a Cerberus.” The man said, still holding that same grin. He frustrated Dave beyond belief. He hated people like him, those strangers who were just perfect. For a man that looked in his mid-thirties, he was fit, had a full head of hair and a winning grin. It sickened Dave to his core. Even worse, he came to a pet shop in a suit, just to mock him.
“A Cerberus? Right and I want a succubus.” Dave said, not even having the energy to summon a fake laugh. “Yet here we both are at a pet shop. A human pet shop, for that matter. Now, can you kindly go to hell? Who knows, maybe you will find your Cerberus there?”
“Witty, a little forced, but I can appreciate some banter. Now, buddy, I won’t repeat myself twice. I want a Cerberus. Yes, it’s a demonic hell dog, But I know you have one here. Now would you kindly place the order for me?”
“Are you insane or just trying to get on my nerves? Do you understand what a pet shop is? Oh, sorry sir, we are out of Cerberuses. Can I interest you in a pet harpy? Or maybe a griffin? No? How about a three eyed penguin?”
“Hm. You are a difficult one. Erica must be trying to frustrate me. Listen, we both know I won’t leave until you put my order into the system, so why don’t we speed this up? I have places to be and you… well, I’m sure there’s a corner that needs some serious brooding.”
Should he even be surprised that the weirdo knows Erica? His old hag of a boss kept strange company. With the reality of the situation being given by the stranger, Dave rolled his eyes in exasperation, making sure they knew just how annoyed he was.
“Name?”
“Satan or the Devil if you wish to be direct. You can call me Lucifer too if you please.”
“Ugh, that’s really lame, even for a joke.”
Dave expected to find himself on some crappy prank video tomorrow, one of those videos with the obnoxious hosts and the even more obnoxious fans. He tapped the order into the console as directed, only to shrug his shoulders. “Out of stock.” He said with a slight air of smugness, only for the speakers in the room to sing out.
“Warning: Unauthorized access detected, Lockdown commencing.” The violent smashing of shutters followed the sound as the room sealed itself, leaving the pair both locked inside. The once emotionless worker now moving towards a window, desperately pulling at a bar. “What the hell is this? Let me out of here.”
“It seems I am no longer welcome here.” Dave could feel the lingering presence behind him, the man’s gaze enough to send a shiver through his body. “Oh, come now Erica, can’t we just talk about this, darling? What are you going to do, attempt to kill me again? I just want a Cerberus puppy, then I can go home happy.”
“What the hell are you?” Dave said, turning to face the stranger, who now had two protruding black horns pushing out from his skull.
“We discussed that earlier. I am the devil, and you are trapped in here with me.”
“No, what sort of sick joke is this? The devil doesn’t exist. That’s just some stupid myth. I’m not going to scream and cry for your show if that’s the reaction you are trying to get.”
“I care little about your reactions. Though I will make you squeal if I don’t get my puppy. You heard that right, Erica? I know you don’t let me out of your sight.”
Lucifer reached forward to grab Dave’s throat only for a shot of green light to pierce through his hand, leaving a few holes littered through his fingers, which healed in seconds.
“No one torments my workers but me. You have some nerve coming here.” The hag grumbled, shuffling towards him, giving him a poke in the chest with her broom. “Pay your damn bills. I’m not running a hell animal shelter. Do you know how much it costs to feed a Cerberus? It’s three times the cost of a normal dog.”
“Heh, right, I knew I forgot something. It’s not that I don’t have the money, its just I didn’t feel like paying you. Paying a witch feels dirty, even for a demon such as myself.”
“Then you don’t want your Cerberus? Before you try threatening me, remember who has a spell that can send you back to hell. I’ll call any bluff you give me.”
Dave stared at the two in horror. Both held an aura that made his knees weak. He tried to say something, but his lip only wobbled, letting out a small. “Mmmm” Sound.
“Shush, you sound like a puppy that wants to go outside. Go clean the animal cages, this is between me and him.” Erica kept her gaze squarely on Lucifer, not averting her gaze until the demon finally dug a hand into his pocket.
“When you die, I am going to have so much fun tossing you over a firepit. I’m sure there’s a lot of oil stored away in that warty skin of yours. You will go up like a firework, it will be great.” The devil said, not losing his award-winning grin, even if his eyes were shooting Erica daggers.
“Two thousand years old and don’t look a day over one thousand. You will be waiting awhile, boy. I’m sure I’ll figure something out before I end up croaking. I doubt we will meet.”
“Heh, we will see.” Lucifer slipped his hand from his pocket, allowing a fountain of notes to spill out. After ten minutes of this money fountain, the notes stopped, leaving the floor of the room covered. “You can pick it up.”
“DAVE, pick up the money. Mr. Lucifer, you can find your hellhound in the usual meeting place.”
“Purgatory?”
“The one and only.”
“Oh, there’s a tip in there for the human too.” With that, Lucifer exploded into a tornado of fire, crisping up some notes before vanishing, leaving Dave to stand there in awe, his hands shifting through the money, unable to comprehend the amount.
“Hurry up and collect it. Also, If I find one note missing, I’ll make sure you suffer.”
“But he said there was a tip in there for me.”
“You want a tip? Don’t work for a witch, now hurry.” She cackled, leaving Dave to rummage through the notes, not knowing his memory would be wiped at the end of the shift.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-10-13T09:19:07 | 2021-10-13T07:16:27 | 64 | 25 |
[WP] The alien invasion of Earth was going quite well until they made three mistakes: They invaded Russian during the winter, got into a land war with Asia, and went in against the Sicilians when death is on the line. | The blazing winds of the tundra was something they'd not prepared for. They'd been warned against arrival during the cold seasons. "It couldn't be that bad", some of them said, with the arrogance of having the coldest winters in the Galactic Union. They were not prepared for how cold the icy tundra would be, and the invisible killers that lurked under every rock, hid in every tree.
The losses were unnoticeable at first, in the blaze of the blizzard and the sheer numbers of the 10,000-strong invading force. The cold was so intense that their suits - built for temperatures beneath -100 KA - did not last against Yakutsk's cold, the frostbitten landscape that measured even further than they could conceptualize. -100 KA was a mere chill for the locals; -10 degrees Celsius, and currently it was -34. Their numbers slowly thinned in the blindness of the blizzard, picked off one by one and forever lost to the White. The few that did manage to see their attackers saw a herd of beasts, barbaric and laden in the fur of wild animals - perhaps trying to appear like one, before the near-silent pop of its elongated weapon silenced them for good. *"Dobryy nochi, suka."*
Further northwest, the legions which had been in charge of taking Moscow failed miserably. The snowstorms that seemed to plague the whole of the Eurasian front proved flight nearly impossible for their drones, suits freezing and breaking due to the cold - wearers dying, frozen and forever halted. The actual manually-controlled fighters found it difficult to find their targets and were heavily slowed by the intense gravity of the planet, soon facing destruction from the much faster fighter jets from the opposition.
The ground forces that had survived the cold then faced what local sources and intelligence called 'Armor'. They'd expected large suits of armor and had prepared for such, but as their bases and lines were broken by continuous barrages of artillery, thermobaric rockets and tank shells, they'd realized their misinterpretation.
Further south, the Aliens were fighting a losing war against Asia as a whole. In the Middle East, suits overheated and baked their wearers alive as young men in pickup trucks, armed with stolen heavy machine guns managed to run down alien garrisons, the heat even messing with thermal sensors and the aliens' targeting systems. Furthermore, they'd began rejecting prisoners, as on multiple occasions, large amounts of soldiers had been killed by explosions originating from their prisoners.
Further to the East, Aliens lost garrison after garrison to both India and China, who'd opted to use their familiarity with Earth's environment to their advantage. The aliens fought the same enemies throughout Asia, and each one was just as prepared and adapted as the last - unlike the invaders. There was no point to scanning for intruders when the foliage was far too dense to scan through, and no point doing the same in a desert, where the sand hid explosives, people, and even entire bases.
These aliens were unfamiliar with humanity's brand of stealth - used to cloaking fields and what-not. At first, that's what they assumed humanity was using, before a sand dune gunned down an entire legion, before the trees swung spiked logs down, piercing through armor, before a city burst into flames as they'd just taken it over.
This war culminated to a resounding Alien defeat. We'd never even found out what they were here for. All we know is that we won, who we won against, and the fact that they left. The Aliens lost somewhere between 500 million and 1 billion, while we lost approx. 156 million-465 million. We're unsure if they'd invade again, so to counter that, we'd decided to take the fight to them - take to the stars and fight back. Avenge them, those who fought against an invasion - one which had a motive we couldn't even ascertain. If that doesn't work, we must at least find out why - why they invaded, and why they didn't even bother to do any research before doing so.
​
(lol had a bit of fun with this) | Ironically the unsuccessful conquest began in Mongolia. Thousands of drop pods launched from high orbit landed with explosive force across the steppes that the greatest conquerer of them all once rode, and from these pods streamed a new horde, only with lasers and tanks instead of bows and horses. But it was not as simple as the Great Khans conquest.
The aliens (known as Jenny's by the soldiers who fought them and three pages of Latin by the scientists who did not) held the ground advantage from the outset, and high Earth orbit was of course theirs for the almost unopposed taking, but the in-between they held no power over. They're pilots inexperienced in the vastly different gravity of Earth and their drones clumsy, they barely bothered to put anything in the actual atmosphere beyond artillery and troops. And so, that was how we first drew blood blue.
Migs and derivatives, with over 50 years difference in production dates, first dealt death and fire. Then came the bombers of all races, colors, and creeds, everything from B-52s to bi-planes dropped Max payload on the Jenny army. And let's not forget what came after either, for all though they dealt less death it was they that the enemy truly feared. The thud of gunship cannons, the whine of Apaches and their kin, and the Brrrrrt of A-10 warthogs drowned out all else for the first two days of the War for the World.
For their part the Mongols fought like their ancestors, and to the last man, their sacrifice buying time for the world to gather it's forces. It was on the the third day that they fell, and that both sides realized this would be a war that gave the subject the name of hell. At dawn the Jennies anti-air batteries came online, and swatted a thousand planes from the sky. By noon the last Mongol force had fell and alien reinforcements had arrived. By evening the aliens had split and we're making breakneck speed North and South. But by night they learned that no victory on Earth lasted long.
A few minutes before midnight the Southern contingents point brigades encountered their Chinese counterparts. They exacted a kill ratio of 2, often times 3, to 1 on the humans, but their were 100,000 Jennies and 200,000 Chinese. A few minutes after midnight the brief attack ended, the humans retreating to their lines and the Jennies to theirs. In barely 10 minutes 5,000 Jennies had been made into dead corpses. The whole thing would repeat almost exactly the next day, only with ten times the troops and twenty times the length.
The lessons however, didn't truly sink in until a day and a half later, when the aliens launched their plan B. The Southern force were in trenches barely half a mile from the first battle with the Chinese. The Northern forces were making good time with little to no ground resistance, but our air was learning quick how to get around their countermeasures. In Southern Africa, Australia, and the coast of Italy, more pods dropped. Divide and conquer was the strategy, distract and hold as many armies close to home as possible. The pods and there troops were fewer but much stronger, commandos with one order; advance until you can't, then hold the line until dead. Each "Jack" (as they came to be called) was promised riches and an easy life if they lived, and the enshrinement of their name with the highest honor if they did not.
And in Africa and Australia they did just that, pushing until they could no longer courtesy of deployed troops and broad spaces that some times killed more than their native enemy did. It was Italy however, that proved the commandos were not the back breaker the Jenny's had hoped for. A little island specifically, one that couldn't be abandoned for fear of having enemies on their back as they pushed North, an island that showed them just how high the price of Earth is. Sicily, or as the aliens called it, the ghosts island.
To the people who controlled Sicily many slights against them equalled death, death of one of their own equalled far worse, and a war of destruction, well the aliens soon found out what that's equivalent was. It was said that landfall was the only close to easy thing done by an extraterrestrial on that island, and that was on a coast filled with traps. Further inland however, that was where the ghosts lived. From storm drains came the rattle of machine guns that hadn't tasted blood since Rommel left them behind, their owners fleeing soon after but not before sending 8 or 10 Jennies to the medbay, if they were that lucky. But it wasn't just with weapons of war they fought, cut down shotguns, hunting rifles, and even bricks thrown from roof tops exacted a terrible toll. A toll so great that after only two weeks the enemy fled and ordered hell itself down upon an island in the form of two orbital artillery strikes, each far exceeding the energy unleashed on Nagasaki. But even after all that, when the Jacks returned for a final sweep they heard the crackle and felt the sting of gunfire from every hole they passed.
It was thought that the European Jacks and the Southern armies had it the worst, in fact the Northern Jennies joked on the radio about their good fortune as they pushed into Siberia hoping to cut Russia off from North America. Then came Winter. Then the aliens realized that it wasn't just us trying to kill them, it was Earth herself. | 2022-02-11T06:50:31 | 2022-02-11T01:18:46 | 370 | 73 |
[WP] "As payment, I demand your firstborn!" the demon said. "Deal!" You said, hastily signing the contract to seal the deal. "Good luck with them, sucker!" | I was shocked when I found out that yes, demons were exactly that stupid. They were so keen on making deals, they forgot to use their brains.
And thank god for that, because otherwise, Earth would have been screwed.
After the whole prophecy shenanigans, I was trying to get rid of that growing lump of cells inside my belly. I was trying to get rid of it in any way possible.
Deadly poison? Didn’t work. It was like drinking vodka. Made me a bit tipsy, and that was it.
A nice kick to the stomach? Broke that poor lad’s kneecap.
I was trying to jump off a very tall building for crying out loud, but alas, as I hit the damp street below, I was completely fine. I did send quite the shockwave, though. Many shattered windows and pissed off store owners were the direct result of my actions. Also many who looked at me like I’m spider man or something of the sort. I did do that stunt during midday, so it was probably my fault for letting so many people believe in the improbable.
The government of course caught me soon after. Videos of me jumping off that building and staying alive spread like fire, and soon enough Twitter was full of users claiming I unlocked my inherited 6G radiation genes because Jeff Bezos used the magnetism in my blood from the covid vaccine.
It was funny enough. I mean, I couldn’t just jump off a 20-story building and expect to walk away like nothing- I didn’t expect that. It was my failsafe: if the fall would not have killed me, maybe the government would.
They ran tests on me. Shot me. Froze me. They put me in a metal cage and held it above flames. They took cell sample after cell sample after cell sample.
I was into it all, obviously. I was into anything that might help me get rid of the cursed baby that was mocking me all the way from the inside of my stomach. But it was all in vain. Whatever it was that kept me from dying- it was not something natural. My DNA was not altered, nor was my skin unbreakable. If I was cut, it bled. Only when I was in true mortal danger, suddenly I became invincible, and one thing became increasingly clear: That evil thing that was festering inside me did not want to die.
The scientists slowly gave up, and so I was at my wits end. I went to the church and prayed and prayed and prayed some more. No answer.
Then, a very rare eureka moment happened.
And so I went at night to a field of rye. The air was warm and smelled fresh, and I walked around until I found a tree above which the stars aligned perfectly. I summoned a demon from the realm of Hell, and told her I’d like to be successful in this lifetime, and I’d give anything to have that.
“Everything? Even your unborn child?” The demon asked with a toothy smile that was a bit too big, and stretched the corners of her mouth to the middle of her cheeks.
“Anything.” I said, smiling on the inside. I was this close to parting ways with the terror inside.
We concluded the deal with a handshake, after which a huge relief washed over me, because I could no longer feel the unholy child in my belly.
The demon suddenly screamed in pain, and vanished in a cloud of smoke and black snakes of fire.
It had began.
That demon unknowingly just unleashed something in hell, something that devours realms and creates chaos. Something so evil, it’s presence would destroy the place.
Would turn it into a pink paradise of madness and torture.
My baby.
Dolores Jane Umbridge. | Lying has its merits; so, too, does being able to bend the truth and save the true falsehoods for those who deserved them. Discerning who deserved which — if either — had always been a skill I’d employed with ease. My therapist as yet has yet to form an opinion on whether my beliefs on this matter are attributable to growing up with a sociopathic narcissist of a father — when he was around — or to being born the eldest daughter of an absentee mother who happened to be a skinwalker (if you don’t know, you don’t know … and probably if you don’t know, you don’t want to know). But, I’m damn good at manipulating humans — and assorted others — if necessary, and the truth is, I really, truly wanted that stallion. Didn’t matter a bit to me if he was owned by a human, fae, or demon: that stallion was coming home with me.
It began when I drove a new route to the feed store, a longer trip but one that let me avoid potential rush hour traffic (it’s the middle of nowhere, Arizona, but still, it’s the principle of the thing). The Thompson homestead, crumbling slowly as long as I’d known it to exist which was pretty much as long as I’ve existed, seemed different. Once I was close, I felt the energy — not that of David Dunker, the new owner of the property, but a strong, flowing, instinct-driven spirit-energy that felt familiar, signaling to me that either this was a horse who’d sired a horse I knew — or was one hell of a cutting horse. You probably haven’t often given much thought to the offspring of skinwalkers, but we (and, I do mean “we” in the plural sense) are “people” just like anyone else, human or not, we have our shortcomings and our opinions, the things that make us unique from one another, make us happy, and so forth. What makes me happy is not what would have made either my mother or my father happy; instead, what makes me happy is living on my ranch with my cats, dogs, cattle, and horses — and raising some damned fine cutting horses. God knows I’ve had plenty of years to cross various lines and see what happens.
The energy grew stronger and, not fearing much on either a mundane or supernatural level, I turned the truck into the gravel-spattered dust that served as the old homesteaders’ drive, and slowly rolled to a stop then looked around the place at what had been changed.
The old adobe outbuildings were gone or knocked to the ground, and the old barbed wire fencelines that outlined the property lines had vanished, and in their place stood the beginnings of one of those new wood-look steel plank fences.
The click of the shotgun behind my head didn’t phase me (for reasons you can likely guess); but, I felt that action rather uncalled for, and as I lifted a hand in appeasement or whatever rancher or rancher-lite’s wrath I’d incurred, I heard the voice not out loud, but in my head. “Crap,” I thought. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with humans that day, let alone anything else.
“You came here for the horse, yes?” The monotones, unspoken voice had a nasal quality that irked me.
“You know I did, why ask?” I didn’t even turn to face him as I replied.
“You may have the horse. For a price.”
Throughly unimpressed, I flipped around to face the other standing behind me. Speaking in English, I stared at him and let a bit of the yellow shine touch my eyes, “I’m not playing this game with you. What do you want for the horse?”
He thought a moment, and his life’s history clearly played out in my mind, unbidden; like so many other demons, this one — “David Dunker,” or so was the identity he’d assumed — lived a life in which he feared humanity more than it would ever fear him. Had I been so inclined, perhaps I’d have pitied him.
“As payment, I demand your firstborn!”
A week later, I pulled up to David’s front gate with my trailer hitched to my truck, and waited as the gate opened, the switch flipped by someone unseen. One by one, each of his four horses was loaded by my staff onto the trailer while I walked toward the house. Abby was already walking toward me. “We’ve got a lot of planning to do on this one,” she said with a grin.
She looked like me, but then again, she also favored her father — and she was right. We had plenty to do. She and her husband would be moving onto this land in less than a week.
Demons ought to consider who they’re dealing with … who knows, maybe this time, they’ve encountered the being that results when a skin walker’s daughter falls in love with an Angel: a shape-shifting Angel whose very presence can destroy that demon, but an Angel who doesn’t mind cleaning up the evidence afterward, so to speak. | 2022-08-31T19:52:37 | 2022-08-31T16:07:39 | 88 | 61 |
[WP] Years ago, an old Villain saved the life of a Young Hero and decided to adopt him before retiring. Now some rookie Villains have decided the best way to get to the Hero is through his dad. What a terrible mistake. | It was kind of a travesty, how lax modern villainy had become. He'd been surreptitiously informed about the coming ambush dozens of times over the past few days. His old minions had gone on to set up a whole host of hench services after all, and no-one took notice of the help.
They'd made it too easy, his generation. Back in the day you'd need to scrounge up your own crew, get your hands real dirty with the local politics just to set up a proper base and not be inconvenienced by the taxman or plumbing issues. These days there was an app for everything. Shadow networks that ran up and down the country servicing the darker side of the cape scene. The lighter side too of course, ghost shops running under a different brand, but working out of the same pristine shops. No reason to leave money on the table after all. The old crowd had fingers in every single pie of course, even if they'd hung up their capes decades ago.
And powers! Nigel shook his head. They'd not had this new-fangled powers in a vial shenanigans back in his day. If you wanted powers, you dragged it out from under cold dead tentacles and made it your own. It was bad enough when the occult factions had started handing out powers like candy, but this new trend of synthetic powers was making supers sloppy. Bah!
The gold death mask slipped back on like a glove. Shifting uncomfortably, the stone throne on the other hand was playing hell on his old bones. He'd cracked open the original licensing agreements this particular group of villains had signed, taking a few moments to refamiliarize himself with the exact wording before he cracked his knuckles to get to work.
You needed to send a message with things like this. He had nothing against villains using family members as hostages. Not in the abstract anyways. But you better be damn sure you planned sufficiently or you'd likely not survive the backlash. There was a habit of the gloves coming off when you made it personal like that. And modern capes had to step lightly. There were old monsters still about after all.
He'd made sure to include that in to the contracts, in a dozen different places that seemingly no-one ever took the time to read properly. They were in Breach of Contract, and as he slowly unfurled his powers, they crept down those broken connections. As he slowly leaned on those contractual links, a dozen unheard locks snapped shut across the ethereal divide, the weight of his ponderous soul slowly leveraging the broken covenants in to burning the very souls they were embedded in.
----
What villains survived on this side of the continent would understand well enough and be thankful. The understanding seared in to their very souls. Someone had fucked up and roused one of the old leviathans. And he'd been merciful enough not to wipe them out root and stem. The heroes would enjoy a short spate of peace. And maybe he'd use that as an excuse for Sarah to come visit her old man for a bit. Maybe a nice picnic he pondered, cracking his neck and humming to himself. | There were only two choices once you'd been infected. Become a lapdog or fight back.
I should know. I saw the earliest try to fight back, when we first escaped, drunk on their power, and fall to their peers. A lot of us tried to hide. None of us succeeded. So we villains began to stay in packs. We were no less powerful, no less pre-cognizant. But we had some sort of emission, and though it took more bullets, given our ability to duck, weave, and take a few to the head, we weren't bullet proof. If we had been once, they just made faster bullets. Our only chance was to establish our own bases, become a force too costly to kill.
But the choices changed. I worked hard to make sure they changed, but I guess sometimes things slip away from you.
My boy was a hero. Only survivor from his cohort. Smart, insanely powerful, and loyal, so goddamned loyal. I suspect these were the things they had been experimenting with when we raided. Maybe why they started killing them when we breached the walls. We got what we came for. Turns out that we couldn't hide our emissions, but we could fool their sensors. I handed that data off myself. My new handlers told me that the villains got the next generation of gene editor. Less pre-cognizance, more raw strength. Less unstoppable crazies trying to live through moments they'd already seen before.
Maybe that was a good idea. I felt pretty crazy when I saw myself stay behind. I think it was his eyes. I felt like he was the first one to ever see me. Not as an experimental opportunity, nor a white-eyed monster, but just as me. I saw the future, he saw me.
I told my partner what he already knew, and he didn't bother asking me if I was sure, because pre-cogs knew that we already knew the choices we would make. We weren't always right, but we were always sure.
I saved my partner's life that night too. Trying to broker peace, lying through my teeth about how far forward I could see. I saw peace, but only if that soldier didn't fire the bullet. After that, I set to work fulfilling my own prophecy, with my boy at my side. All I wanted was to keep my friends alive, and to deserve my boy's love.
It lasted years, but of course it couldn't last forever. My handlers got me out of the way so they could conduct a raid, had waited and planned long enough that even when the pre-cogs saw it coming, it was too late. Only the next generation survived. And it killed me inside that my boy had gone out and destroyed what I had tried to protect. He hunted down those who had the bad luck to be infected and non-compliant.
I found out before my handlers had expected me to, and I left. My strength had been suppressed but my eyes worked as well as ever. I think that's part of why they didn't see it coming. I was the last pre-cog, after all. And I ran, from my government, who had made me and broken me.
I slipped my cage, a weaker one than they kept the unsedated in. I hesitated a while in front of my boy's cage. He was loyal, loved me no matter what, but I didn't let him out or take him with me. I walked away as he stared at me with pleading eyes, not understanding why I was leaving him behind. I know he had thought he was doing something good. Just fighting bad people and winning, like we were made to.
After I made it out, I saw them coming, these new kids with my name on their lips and revenge on their minds. I saw it all play out. Of course they were stronger, would take more to take down. They thought I had betrayed them, which left me with a choice that wasn't right, but was sure. Years of sedation had made everything dormant but my eyes. What the new kids didn't realize is that lapdogs sometimes got to use the master's toys. Three shots in three places where I knew they would be, and the infection writhed in them, slowed. I could leave them for the masters to pick up.
I had my own crisis to deal with. Because of course, my boy found me again, my boy who had helped kill my friends and he ran to me, with his eyes that saw me, his wagging tail, paws on my shoulders, kissing the tears off my cheeks. | 2022-09-02T13:43:52 | 2022-09-02T12:41:26 | 53 | 21 |
[WP] “1 day on this planet is 15 years on earth” said the ships AI. “I was told to inform you of this after the completion of your 12 day mission on the surface.” | "1 day on this planet is 15 years on Earth” said the ships AI. “I was told to inform you of this after the completion of your 12 day mission on the surface"
I was exhausted. When you are sent to explore, the bosses back at mission control seem to never want you to have any time "off". I hadn't even gotten out of my pressure suit.
'You can sit around in your apartment playing XBox, if you need time off!', was a popular refrain from MC representatives when we mentioned their expected work load was not doable. I remember even Astronauts on Skylab going on strike early in our attempts to explore living in space.
So, what I heard didn't initially register.
"Wait, What?"
"In the time you have been working here... One hundred and eighty years have passed on Earth. And still counting. One point six years per hour here. "
"But, I am supposed to be gone another 6 months making my way back home through the portal. Then, it's...". I pulled up my mission calendar, "67 days getting back to Earth-Lunar orbit. Then dock with the lander and head back to Earth..."
I held my hand up to the robotic camera. I got undressed and walked to where my evening meal was waiting on me. I ate in silence. The AI asked if I wanted music for dinner like usual. I shook my head no.
"Prep for launch." I finally spoke.
"It is not time yet. " The AI responded.
"Not TIME? Oh of course not. I mean, let's see, in the time it took me to eat, another 3 weeks passed on Earth!"
"Our launch window is in 7 hours and 13 minutes. " The AI stated blandly.
"That's just great, another 20 years wouldn't hurt, would it?" I began stowing things. "Everyone better have your shit together!" I hollered in the ship occupied only by me and a few robotic tools controlled by the AI. I took a quick bath to prep for the ride home. Well, what passes for a bath. I got into my sleeping couch and as I pulled the door handle down, I yelled out, "DON'T WAKE ME UNTIL THE MOON IS IN SIGHT!"
The sleeping gas seeped in and I slipped into unconscious.
"Hello? Hello? Are you going to wake up? " The voice seemed to be part of a dream. I think I was supposed to get ready for school.
I forced my eyes open. I was not on my ship. I was in some sort of hospital bed. Maybe... I realized I couldn't sit up. Like my body just wouldn't let me.
"Did I crash? Am I paralyzed?"
"Nothing of the sort! Matter of fact, you made an excellent trip back and we'll, there was a slight miscalculation on the time you were out there. So, we have you sedated so you can ease into things. Matter of fact, you... " He giggled, "...aren't even awake yet. "
"I'm not sure if I like where this is going ..."
"Due to certain things, it has actually been 1800 years or so since you left. Heck, the government that sent you our had actually forgotten about you, or thought you lost, dead, you know..." He then made a creaking sound and tilted his head to symbolize death. "That's why we have you out still. We had to learn your language and idioms. Then we will need to prepare for the shock. HOWEVER, TODAY is your lucky day, as you used to say. We have some of your relatives here to meet you! Count backwards from three...*
"JUST WAKE ME UP ALREADY!" | "...why?"
The AI blinked its status light in an impersonation of a startled bird, hopping back ever so slightly on its gravity dampener. "Something to do with the physics of the planet, or the star it orbits."
"No, I mean why withhold the information? Why reveal it, but only after the 12 days, which would be..." I trailed off, drawing math symbols in the air with quick finger gestures. "160 years?"
"182.48 years, approximately." The AI chirped helpfully.
"That long? Damn." I mused. "I wonder how technology has changed since I left." I looked back at the floating AI "Can you look up the Superbowl winners since, idk, 50? 53?"
The AI blinked rapidly, then bobbed in the air like an enthusiastic toddler's nod. "Yes. What information did you want to know?"
"Superbowl matchups and winners in chronological order." I said, eagerly waiting for the robot to start.
"Certainly. 2021-2022, Cincinnati Bengals vs Los Angeles Rams. Winner, Los Angeles Rams. 2022-2023, the-"
"Nope, stop." I said, shaking my head. "Can't be true, the Bengals suck! They just had the #1 overall pick, you've got some bad intel there."
The robot shifted its camera orientation 45°, like a confused dog would tilt its face.
"On second thought" I said, rubbing my chin. "If you're so wrong about that, maybe your wrong about the whole 15 years thing too."
The robot said nothing.
"Send a comm to Houston" I commanded, striding across the short distance between me and the habitat's airlock. "I want to arrange a live feed chat."
The robot bleeped as it made the request. "The Empire of Cincinnati has accepted your communication request, Commander Greyson. They are waiting on visuals now."
I stopped by the open airlock exterior door. "What?"
"They're asking for an explanation of your delay." The AI said apologetically. "I'm relaying the overall message and tone of the incoming requests, but its too fast for me to properly-"
"Patch it to the main screen." I interrupted. "I'll be right there."
I stepped inside, and closed the outer airlock door. The familiar hiss and squeeze of the pressure filling the airlock was comforting, like the Earth's atmosphere was welcoming me home with a windy hug.
It couldn't have been over 150 years since I landed here. Time is relative, but that was supposed to be a difference of nanoseconds, not generations.
The interior doors opened, and I began to remove my helmet as I stepped inside.
"Hail Burrow, space traveler!" A voice said from the communications panel.
I did the first double take of any human in this star system. The woman speaking to me was wearing full orange and black tiger face paint, and wore a uniform of the same striped pattern.
"Uh, Houston?" I asked, making sure that my interstellar signal was on the correct line.
"Yes! Well, not anymore. Houston was re-named to South Cincinnati in 2051, after our glorious leader Joseph Burrow conquered the loyalists in the region." She said cheerfully, like a tour guide pretending to enjoy their 5th tour group of the day.
"What..." I said, as my brain and tongue fought to say their question first.
"So how can we help you, Space Traveler?" She said, smiling with false enthusiasm.
"I want to come back to Earth." I said.
"Not a problem!" The woman said. "Just contact your local tour guide and ask for the interplanetary shuttle service. We make runs to Earth and all of the Empire's bountiful colonies."
I blinked. "What the... colonies?"
The smiling woman sighed behind a forced smile. "Yes. You can ask your local guide for their individual information. It looks like your guide is Jeremy, currently at the Lost Astronaut exhibit."
I froze. "Exhibit?"
"Yes! You are currently located in the Human Space Exploration exhibit in the museum of Humans."
With a few button taps, a lined map appeared in the screen. A gold star sticker popped into existence in one area that was helpfully labeled "Early Human Space Explorers- Charles Greyson."
I stared at the dot above my name in silence.
"If that's all you need, I'll end the call. Hail Burrow!" The woman said with the first genuine happiness I had heard from her. The image blinked off, replaced by a rotating 3D image of an older, rugged Joe Burrow, Quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals. His fingers were burdened with a dozen Super Bowl rings, all crusted with what looked like blood. He held a bloodied sword in one hand, and a dented football helmet in the other.
The floating AI approached me quietly, having finally cycled through the air lock.
"Could you pull up that Super Bowl list again?" I asked.
"Certainly!" The robot beeped cheerfully. "The next 11 winners are all Cincinnati, and the 12th is the London Jaguars, lead by future NFL Commissioner Tom Brady."
r/SlightlyColdStories for more | 2022-09-15T11:57:03 | 2022-09-15T11:30:24 | 161 | 106 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once. | *crack*
*Crack*
*Crack*
" Please I beg you stop!" mighty lad screamed.
A steel cane rams into his jaw
"Martha, Benjamin, Alice, Steven" the wack hatter mutters
Mere hours ago Angelstar wack hatter's boutique cosplay shop was attacked by the league of cool crime stoppers. The employees were beaten to within an inch of there lives and arrested and now sit in jail for aiding a criminal.
"How did you know" wack hatter growled
"We have been watching you for a while now you're movements your identity is not so secret Dennis"
" So you assumed my employees had anything to do with my other life you fools" wack hatter sighs
"They helped you move glycerin into warehouses your going to bomb the mayor's home" mighty lad wheezed out
"We sell soap"
"What"
"Glycerin it's one the main ingredients in soap it was Martha's soap actually"
"That doesn't change the fact it can be used to make bombs Martha was probably your second in command"
Whack hatter growing angrier by each word muttered by this wannabe beat cop. Yells
" She was pregnant you piece of shit"
"What"
"When she was arrested she called me the beating you gave Martha led her to going in the hospital"
"Oh no no no"
"She miscarried, a beacon of hope destroyed a soon to be family even my origin is happier than that"
"Oh God why this was superwonder's idea we were just following her orders."
"During our call we spoke of revenge and how she wants to murder each one of you. You, mighty lad are the first to fall and soon this whole city"
With one solid whack from his cane whack hatter killed mighty lad instantly leaving a crater in his skull. After the killing only one thought bounced around Whack hatter's skull
"How the fuck do you make bombs out of glycerin" | *This time* it had to work. It couldn't be like that time the duct tape broke in the torture chamber, releasing the bar that kept Doctor KingKitty from morphing into her feline form and escaping. Or like the time my blaster cannon had no ammo while I finally had WhipWorm in the scope. And most certainly never like the time when I had all of the CloudWing crew trapped in a bus and hanging off the cliffside, and instead of using my extender arm to push it off, I activated the grapple instead.
The CloudWingers had to be stopped at any cost.
Ash stung my nostrils as I prowled about the ruins of my 6-12 convenience store, a business that had nothing to do with CloudWing and which they untargeted with contemptuous unfairness in an act that could be described as villainous. *I'm supposed to be the villain.* I had ignored them for too long, allowing them to go about telling the tallest of tales and exaggerations about their minuscule superpowers while I focused too much on the *project*. Oh me.
*It hadn't been all that difficult to get them all on that bus.* They weren't exactly the brightest superheroes ever, usually gullibly falling into whatever trap suited their fancy the most. KingKitty was had with merely a piece of catnip. WhipWorm just wanted to hide and slithered right in. MellowSnow hated heat and was forced on with nothing more than a cigarette lighter. Then the leader, the pathetic RiverRaven, was so full of their own appetite that a squirrel carcass had brought the bird faster than I could count to ten.
*If only I had finished them then.*
No point in crying over past opportunities. I looked over at the automorpher with glee. If only I had it complete... It would be the most perfect way to dispose of them. Plants, reduced to nothing more than ordinary garden weeds. Then, onto the rest of the superheroes. *Yes, yes. I could plant them in a garden. So much fun.*
I licked my lips. Time to go to work.
\-----------
I couldn't help but let out a smile directed at nothing as I watched all of them get into the back of the brown van, the automorpher pointed out the window at it. This was going to be all too easy... They had fallen for the same traps that I had laid out the last time! Oh me.
Once all four were inside I called down to the security guard whom I'd paid a handsome sum and he shut the door. At once I charged the automorpher and pulled the trigger, expecting a cathartic blast of energy to rush into the van.
What came out instead was... a wisp of smoke?
That's when the gun started to feel hot. Not just hot like it'd been warmed by the sun on an afternoon, or hot like a cell phone gets when its overused. Boiling hot, enough that I was forced to drop it.
Of course, when it hit the ground a blast of energy finally did come out of it, directed at me. It didn't kill me, instead giving me these stupid petals around my face so I look like a sunflower. A loser.
<pouts>
\----------------
r/StoriesToThinkAbout | 2022-11-28T17:41:23 | 2022-11-28T14:15:34 | 81 | 18 |
[WP] Quantum Physics responds when things are being observed. For some reason, the universe doesn't consider you to be an observer, and daily life can get pretty weird when no one is watching. | "The world is as we perceive it." At least, thats what dad always used to say, but then again dad never saw much himself. Cataracts, he had. From a young age I would wind up describing to him how we would both end up perceiving the world. The color of the cars on the freeway. The shape of the milk crates at the store. How the eyes in the walls stared at us, unblinking. How the world shifted and groaned when others looked away. The wires that held us all together, like puppets of flesh. Where my father could see nothing, I saw everything.
And then my father would always say, "You sure it's not you who needs your eyes checked boy?" and laugh. But I was not laughing.
The world was made of mishaped pieces all desperately trying to find a place they fit. I guess that led to plenty of pieces that didn't, and for one reason or another I could see those pieces. One moment the road was road, the next the pavement flowed like a blackened river down stream. My father was my father, then he was just fleshy shapes resembling what the man once was.
I still remember the day I saw a building collapse in on itself. Not because it happened, but because I knew it would. The pieces didn't fit together smoothly. They had decayed into misshapen bits like a game of Jenga long into its lifespan. Others could not see it, but it was so clear to me. Then, poof, the game was lost and the pieces sat piled up on the floor.
Life was different for me, always was. In buildings walls shifted until comfortable, the floors melted, ceilings flew around as birds on a wire. But even those things had become the normal to me.
When that building fell, however, I began to ask: *If the world is as we perceive it, then how does it perceive us?* | "You don't know the capacity of your own imagination until your hallucinations become the only thing you have. It's all too easy when you're in prison, blindfolded, cuffed, and hanging from the air with earmuffs on, to see false images that are as pleasing as they are implausible. I just want to go back to the way it was in the days before I joined the Army. To see what's real instead of my imagination."
"Go on," my therapist said as she started jotting down notes. Her face was relaxed and she was smiling, as if I had just told her I was going to be her friend or something.
"You see, I don't see a street corner, or a jar, or busy passersby. I see a kingdom and I'm a wizard. I'm casting a spell that requires deep concentration, the passersby are my source of mana. When I complete the spell I'll gain another artifact to help me complete my quest."
"And what do you do with these artifacts?" she said inquisitively.
"I consume them in order to gain power. Each time I consume an artifact I gain more."
"I see. And when does the spell break? Like, when do you come back to reality?"
"I tend to come in and out. One minute I'll be stuck in my head and another I'll realize that I'm sitting on a street corner with a jar in my hand. Then I'll try my very hardest to go back because being there, in reality, is just... too painful. When I get in my head, it's kind of like, going to a different universe."
"Hmm," she paused, staring down at the notebook. "Have you considered that these trips into your head are a way to shield your mind from the hurt you endured while in prison?"
"Yeah."
"Have you considered trying hypnotherapy? It's been known to work on cases such as yours, and your sister has already agreed to pay."
"I don't know about that."
"If you want to try to help yourself come to terms with reality it's the best thing. Why not give it a shot?"
I felt a slight pulsing sensation in my head, and a moment later I saw the healer Cassandra in her purple robe, her scepter pointed at my head, telling me repeatedly not to misuse my powers or else I'd face the Tribunal or perhaps the King himself.
"Unfortunately, you must subject yourself to The Silencing," she said, "and only in that way will you wean yourself from the hallucinogenic dragon's blood."
"No!" I screamed, suddenly feeling the tightness of my robe against my skin. It was always weird to look down and see it after I'd been lost in the world where magic was done with electricity instead of mana and it wasn't OK for men to wear robes in public.
"Yes. Your trips have become too much. You've been reduced to nothing more than a common beggar. Please, take the Silencing and go home."
I jolted. "Matt?" the therapist said with concern, uncrossing her legs to make that she was ready to get up to assist me.
"Yeah, maybe hypnotherapy. I don't know."
"Why not? It could only help," she said with a smile again.
"I don't know. Maybe reality is all in my head."
/r/StoriesToThinkAbout | 2022-12-29T09:57:11 | 2022-12-29T09:19:43 | 101 | 62 |
[WP] You lay dying of heart failure, and God enters your mind. He informs you that you will be reincarnated upon death, losing all memory, but before that happens you are allowed to ask any one question. The answer to your question surprises you so much that your heart restarts and you survive. | The thing about God is the infinite patience. I felt I had all the time in the world to select the one question that framed exactly my heart's desire.
Both worlds were hovering between shadow and light and I felt I might easily fall into either one without regret or effort. Time passed, the Everything waited and my mind sought for a thing which I had not known to be possible: one moment of pure understanding.
Then I had it. I knew what I wanted to ask. The most important question of all the questions. The one question upon which everything else was built. I framed the question and spoke aloud:
"God, who made you?"
Time stretched. The stars fell. Nothingness was more than what remained. Empty, no future, no past, no beginning, no ending. Just the awareness of consciousness without purpose, meaning or definition.
Then, a voice: "You did".
I fell back into my body as one who falls from a great height. Air would not enter my lungs. The sense of vision was strange and disorienting. Bright, colorful, loud, reeking, pressure, panic, fear, awareness.
Then I was back. I had asked the one question from whence all the other questions arose. I got an answer and had no idea what it meant.
Everything now had a frame, a reference, a substrate that would be the starting point for the interpretation of my life from this point until my next exit.
I had asked The Authority The Question and found myself as clueless as before. I had a frame and a picture but I had no idea what it meant.
I live life now without fear of death. Knowing that something is there and is waiting for me to ask a question, I rush towards fate so that I might again have another chance to ask the ultimate question.
God waits, I wait, the Universe waits and time slowly ticks down. I know I'll get an answer I understand next time. The trick will be to ask the right question.
| Here I am again. In the bed that has become my new home. The white walls of the hospital give off a green glow from the fluorescent lamps that now seem to calm my nerves. Funny how I find these things soothing now. Before, the scratchy bedsheets, the flickering lights, the slow beeping of my machines would have been annoyances, but now I feel as though the sheets warm me, the flickering lights still show activity in the world that I am not able to partake in, and the beeping reminds me that I am still alive. It's that beeping that keeps me going, although I am unable to speak, unable to move, I can hear the steady, rhythmic beeps, and I know that everything will be alright.
It takes everything in me to move my eyes from one corner of the room to another. To my right are flowers, and the other, my wife and daughter...
I know that I may not have much time left, but it can't be today. Not on this day, with my daughter looking so beautiful in her gown. I can't stand the look in her eyes. That helplessness. I can't stand to look at it. I focus my gaze on the ceiling, and start counting the beeps.
My mind wonders. Back to a better place. I think of the happiest time that I had in a hospital - when she was born. I never thought I could be a father. I wonder if she knows how much she scared me, or how all of that fear washed away once I saw her face. That awestruck look on her face as she saw the world for the first time. I wonder if that is how I look, knowing that I will be seeing the world for the last time. No. Stop.
Not today. Not on her day.
The beeps have slowed. I lost track of the count.
I look around the room - although this time it feels much easier. The flickering of the lights have stopped, there is no noise, no commotion. I let out a breath. Something feels different. I focus my attention back on the right corner of my room. There, faintly recognizable, is a figure. Not a shadow, something like a cloud in front of the sun. As I try to focus my gaze, a voice comes into my head.
"Your time is short. You will leave this body and go into another. And another after that. The consciousness you feel now, the memories you have, the memories you've had, will be lost. But, before we go, I will allow one question."
My eyes shift around the room. It can't be my time. How did this happen. I was healthy. I exercised. I never smoked, hardly drank. And now? Today? This fucking day? When my daughter is about to walk down the aisle, already without her father. I will not let this day become the day her father died. I will not leave here without telling her how much I love her. What she did for me. What it was like to experience something so amazing as another life. I can't go. Not today.
I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I look back at my daughter, then back at the figure. There is only one question I have...
"Why do I have to die today?"
"You don't."
Beep. | 2014-08-03T07:26:40 | 2014-08-03T07:26:11 | 111 | 42 |
[WP] You have the gift of fantastic luck, and the curse of horrible timing. In three paragraphs or less, give me a glimpse of your life. | "We did it, Babe. We found the cure. We've worked so long for this, and it's here at last. Kim says approval will still be a haul, but the FDA has a new process in place to fast-track therapies that look particularly promising, and he's pretty sure we qualify."
He reached his hand out, tracing the letters on the stone again.
"We found it, Babe. Just like I prom..." the last word lost in his tears. | It was my final exam, one more exam and I'm home free. One more exam and this school is completely behind me. Just three, more hours. You see, I hate going to school. Mainly because ever since birth, I've had miraculous luck, but it strikes at the worst times. For example, last week I found the winning lottery ticket for the one million jackpot... for the previous month. And going by the ruling, I couldn't claim the prize since I was a week or so off the cut off date.
And since I began school, I've been granted honors, school prefect and many more prestigious titles even though I screw up at the try outs... mainly because I always show up late. But, I digress, just need to get through these next three hours. To make sure, I didn't turn up to this late, I came an hour early. I've taken my seat at the front of the room and now kids are beginning to pour in. I can see my friend Steve taking his seat at the back of the room and - *Oh my gosh, the popular girl Erin is sitting next to me*
I freeze up. What is this? Why is she sitting next to me? As the exam begins I find it difficult to concentrate because Erin is arms length away. I turn to look at her, and sure enough, she's got a small piece of paper in her hand. She's gesturing me to take it. Swapping notes in exam conditions? That's... that's illegal here! We could be thrown out or worse, fail the entire subject! But that's not stopping her, she threw it over. As I slowly opened it and looked at what it read, I heard the booming voice of the supervise behind me.
**"SO? YOU GOING TO SAY YES TO HER!?"**
Fuck my life. | 2014-12-12T09:46:47 | 2014-12-12T05:53:36 | 46 | 27 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion. | One pill
Two pills
Red pills
Blue pills
Black pill
Blue pill
Old pill
New pill
My wrist has a little scar
Maybe I will crash my car
Say! What a lot of pills there are
Some are blue
And some are red
Don't ask me why
I will soon be dead
| In the far away land of Sala-McSnerd
Lived a middle aged woozle named Nudist Jay Bird
Each day by the river he'd hunt for wild snuthings
Each night he'd return with two bags full of nothings
"We're hungry!" said his wife. "Get back on the job!"
So he'd head back out, his hand still on the door knob
And even his children - both of whom he adored
Screamed "don't come back without snick-snucks from the snick-snucking store!"
With a sigh he'd go back on the wild snuthing hunt
Wishing his wife and his kids weren't such cunts
When a sound from the river had caught his attention
He could not tell for sure but he thought he heard his name mentioned
"Down here" came the noise, "look to my direction"
And he saw with a start it came from his reflection
"I can help you," it said, "from your noser to your toeser
Lean down your ear, just a little bit closer!"
"I have questions to answers you haven't yet asked
Like why does it hurt when you don't use your flask?"
He couldn't believe it, he HAD wondered that
So he leaned a bit closer and took of his old hat.
"The answer," it said it said as it removed its hat too
"The answer, of course, should seem simple to you.
Take the rope from your snuthing trap shooter
And tie one end to this rock and one end to your booter"
He did as he was told with gusto and passion
Then tossed the rock in till he heard a big splashin
And with the ripples his new helpful friend disappeared
But the pain from the drowning was not as bad as he feared. | 2015-01-17T07:18:52 | 2015-01-17T07:16:40 | 79 | 46 |
[WP]A retired super villain is in the bank with his 6 year old daughter when a new crew of super villains comes in to rob the place. | “You’ve been a really good girl, Lily,” I said. “This is the last errand, and then we’ll go get some ice cream.”
Lily squirmed, hanging off my arm and sighing with all the drama of a Shakespearian actor. But she stayed quiet and pulled at the ruffles on her skirt. I ruffled her hair with my uncaptured hand and she giggled. She really was a good girl, and we’d had a lot of errands to do today. Making a deposit was the last one, and then we’d get ice cream and go home for a long nap. There was a time in my life when I wouldn’t have been standing in this line crawling at a snail’s pace toward the sole bored teller. These people standing between me and my money should have been cowering on the ground in raw terror at my face.
But there were things in life worth more than money or power or fear.
I smoothed Lily’s ruffled hair and she leaned against my leg.
Between two breaths, the temperature rose ten degrees. I moved, crouching down over Lily as the closest window shattered. I held my breath as the heat scorched my back, not fire though it felt like it. I took a chance and glanced back. There were five together. The firestarter was the second on the left. At the front was a telekinetic with a wraith-like creature hanging around his neck. There was also a muscle-bound crocodile man and a woman generating a protective force field around the entire farce of a super villain team.
I could tell that they were amatures by the way they moved, always checking back with the leader, who shouted obvious orders with feigned confidence. I held Lily closer and ground my teeth. I was once the type of person who would have mowed these pretentious kids down with a laugh and a sneer. But that person died when I held Lily in my arms for the first time. She made me want to be a better person. I would be a better person.
The telekinetic was shouting again, this time about hostages.
I looked at Lily. Her wide, terrified eyes looked back. Over my dead body.
The wraith moved, darting between screaming people. The ones it passed through fell limply to the ground. Then it turned to me.
I woke from a daze. There was a warm lump beside me. I blinked a few times and finally looked down. Lily lay beside me. Her wide eyes were still open, but they were as empty as death.
“Lily!” I said, shaking her as though I could wake her. She still breathed, but she was like a living doll hanging from my hands.
I heard someone talking then. It was a superhero team, one of the fresh ones just assigned to the city. Clowns and pretenders, all of them. Still, they were saying something about the wraith. It stole people’s souls and consumed them for power. But there was a way to get the souls back. It must have tried to take mine, but obviously, I did not have one to steal. But Lily...
I held her to my chest, shaking with fear and rage. Mostly rage.
Lily made me want to be a better person. I would be a better person. Tomorrow.
Today, the Hollow Death would exact revenge one last time.
| My first stab at writing after grad school stole a couple years of my life...
John walked into the parlor where Christine waited for him on the plush suede chair. The two long walls in the rectangular room were lined with the old books, collected over John’s lifetime, while the side opposite the door looked out across the star system they were stopping over in. He went over to one of the top shelves and pulled down an old volume, thin but still thicker than at least three modern tablets. Carefully he peeled open the cover and wormed his way into the chair with Christine with no room to spare. The yellowed and wrinkled page had a picture of a Stegosaurus on it in a fern savanna that would have made a modern scientist chuckle.
“Stegosaurus was a mighty creature, living 93 million years ago.” John began. Christine reached out towards the page, but John gently brushed her hand aside. “We need to be very careful with these, remember?” She nodded and he resumed. “He roamed the plains of an ancient continent called Pangaea. This particular Stegosaurus, however, preferred to live on the edge of the forest.”
John turned the page, the ancient binding resiting and creaking like the door to a run-down home. The next page showed the dinosaur drinking from a small stream. “In the hot sun, he liked to retreat to the water and cool himself off, where he was joined by some of his smaller friends.”
A knock at the door pulled both their attention up from the book. Standing in the doorway was a woman wearing a brown floor-length dress with a pink bow tied into the shape of a flower in her hair. “Sir, I think I have something you should see.”
“Can it wait Gloria?”
“I’m afraid not. There are discrepancies with the transfer. You need to take a look.”
John closed the book as careful as he opened it, tucking it under his arm as he stood up. Christine tugged at his shirt before he could make his way towards the door. “Daddy, can I come?”
He took out the book and handed it to her. “How about you stay here and see what happens to our friend the Stegosaurus?” She pulled the book in and clutched it to her chest. “That’s a good girl. Just you be careful with that now.”
John left the room, leaning back to catch one last glimpse of his daughter and blow her a kiss before heading down the hallway. “What the hell do you mean by discrepancy?”
“I…I don’t know how to explain exactly. We ran a binary and quantum parity check on the data we’re transporting. The binary came back fine but the quantum was off. So we checked and all the files appear to be in tact.”
“The hash?”
“That’s where it’s complicated. It shows as valid, but it’s newer. I say too new to have come from Central.”
“How the hell could somebody have beat us here?”
“I don’t know sir.”
John burst through the doors of the control room. The four other members of his crew stood at attention while their terminals glowed behind them. “Somebody better tell me now what’s going on.”
His cryptology expert spoke up after a moment of silence, his voice struggling to reach across the room. “There might be a problem with the—”
“No there is a problem. If that hash wasn’t created at least four calendar months ago, somebody else is here and intercepting our signal.”
“We scanned for other ships.” His captain added. “We can’t find anything.”
“Of course not. Unless these guys were idiots.” John ran his hands across his bald head. “If it were us on the other end, I’d wait until we jumped for sure. If we run dark and play the patience game we could find them if they get sloppy.”
He tightened his fists and swung at a glass of water sitting on one of the desks, soaking the adjoining desks and terminals. “We’re going to find these mother-fuckers and when we do I’ll give them a taste of what I did to traitors back in the old days. They better not have a fucking clue who the fuck they’re dealing with otherwise—”
“Daddy?” he heard from behind him. Christine stood in the doorway, still holding the book tight “I’m scared.”
John turned and lowered himself to one knee. “I’m sorry honey. Everything is fine, alright. We’re just about to head back home and we’ll finish the book in just a second, alright?” Christine nodded. “Now go back to daddy’s office and I’ll be right there.”
Once she left, John asked, still on his knee and watching Christine trot down the hallway. “How much was in that hash anyways?”
“Three million.” Said his cryptologist. “Or thereabouts.”
“Let’s just call it karma then. Take us back home.”
| 2015-02-06T21:54:51 | 2015-02-06T21:43:57 | 269 | 16 |
[WP]A retired super villain is in the bank with his 6 year old daughter when a new crew of super villains comes in to rob the place. | She remembered that day like it was yesterday. Skipping through the big glass doors, feeling the warmth and security from her dad's hand holding her palm, the sounds of the street muffled as the doors closed.
She remembered his smile and promise of stopping for ice cream on the way home... Followed by a long and boring wait in a lineup that seemed endless to her little eyes. At least her dad tried to keep her entertained with a game of "I spy".
She remembered looking around for orange, trying to find the object. It wasn't by the tellers, and as she turned her head towards the entrance, she saw *them*. There was five of them in total; they were quick, they were swift, and they were efficient.
She remember the shocked gasps and screams from the other patrons of the bank. Her dad squeezing her hand tightly, pain shooting up her arm. Shouts echoed across the bank as the five descended upon the civilians. She trembled as they surveyed the room, issuing threats to anyone who dared tried anything "stupid". Her dad picked her up and held her close; she buried her head in his shoulder, trying not to cry from sheer terror.
It was at this point things got a little fuzzy and confusing to her young mind.
She remembered more shouts and another jolt of pain as she fell to the floor. She caught snippets of conversation between her dad and one of the robbers, but at that moment the words were meaningless to her.
She remembered the feeling of the cold stone floor as she sat watching her dad fight the bad guy. She was shocked at how good a fighter her dad was. He was winning until a second guy came over, shot one of his kneecaps, and proceeded to pummel his face.
She remembered the floor tainted with red. So much red... She shouted. She cried. She pleaded. *They* laughed.
She remembered crawling in front of her dad, trying to defend him, not understanding the significance of these five beating him senseless. She begged them to stop. Her efforts were greeted with a kick to her ribs, the air knocked from her lungs.
She could never forget the day she lost her dad... her last day of childhood.
She would have her vengeance. | “Daddy, I’m so bored!” The small child whined loudly, tugging on her tall father’s hand. This made the blond haired man smile down at the small child. Her innocent brown eyes stared up at him in a begging manner.
“Tell you what,” he grinned as he spoke, “once I get finished here I’ll take you to get ice cream, okay?”
“Okay Daddy!” Just the mention of the food seemed to make her extremely excited, bouncing up and down on her heels. “Can I have chocolate Daddy? Can I?”
“Of course sweetie. You can have whatever flavor you wa--”
“Everybody on the floor, this a robbery!” The booming voice emanated from a man holding a rifle under his arm. He was surrounded by two men and a woman, all dressed rather similarly. Their attire was dark, woefully so. Skulls and crossbones were patterned across their entire outfit. The most worrying thing, however, was the skull masks they held to their faces… They appeared to be made of a bleached ivory.
The blond haired man gently pushed his daughter to the floor, following suit before whispering: “Just stay still. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”
“But Daddy I..”
“I know pumpkin. Just be still and quiet.” He waited until the group had their backs turned before pulling himself to his feet. Rather nonchalantly he began strolling toward them, “What seems to be going on here boys?” The sudden appearance of an acerbic voice caused the leader to whirl around, swinging his gun rather erratically.
“What are you doing standing old man!? We told you to hit the fucking deck!”
“Hey, woah! Woah!” He threw his hands in the air. “I just wanna talk, son. Get down to the bottom of this. Why are you folks robbing this poor bank, eh?”
The woman was the first to reply. “Do you live under a rock? We’re The Masked Deaths!”
“Oh yeah,” the blond man began to smile abrasively. “You’re those new idiots on the street trying to, what was it... ‘breathe life into this old business’?” The exactness of the words the man uttered to the ones he had just said not but the other day caused the leader to raise an eyebrow in suspicion.
“Just exactly who are you?” The inquiry seemed to cause even greater delight in the man.
“Just who am I? Just who am I? For one I am your elder.” His hand whipped out, grabbing the younger male’s wrist. “I am your superior.” With a twist of his wrist a large cracking sound emitted from the younger one’s body, forcing him to drop the rifle into the assaulter’s open hand. He quickly stepped back, turning the point onto the group of four. “I am The Soul Clock.” Upon uttering the name gasps could be heard echoing throughout the building, the largest and deepest coming from The Masked Deaths.
The woman began stuttering, “Y-You mean.. The Soul Clock? D-didn’t you retire a few years back?” She was cowering back, dropping her gun and raising her hands.
“Yes. The Soul Clock. You are correct, I am retired. But I’m not afraid to show you young dumbasses how its done. So how about you other two drop your guns, hm?” They quickly obliged while backing away. “Excellent.” He turned away from them, scanning the folk on the ground: “You can all stand up now. Does anyone have a cell phone handy? I imagine the police would be ecstatic to take these knuckleheads into jail.” | 2015-02-06T22:57:36 | 2015-02-06T22:43:19 | 30 | 19 |
[WP] One day, you wake up on a rough square platform made of stone and dirt. It's only 10x10 meters across with nothing but a tiny pool of water and an apple tree. There is no way off the platform besides jumping into the abyss below. What do you do?
*I just realized this sounds like a minecraft thing but I actually wasn't intending it to turn out that way. Loving all the stories though * | I wasn't hungry or thirsty and for a long time there was nothing.
I could feel the rough bark of the tree and the wetness of a small pool but I could not see. I walked around my prison and felt the edge and the sense of a drop.
I was trapped.
One day it all change. I heard a thump. Then another and after a while more. Then came a splash and a soft light. I ran towards it and picked it up.
An orb. A glowing orb. It had fallen into the pool. I could use it to see!
I studied the area of my prison in the light of the orb. Holding it high above my head so it didn't hurt my eyes. Then it dawned on me...
I tossed the orb up into the air. It exploded into a fiery ball. I spent the rest of that day pulling orbs from the tree and tossing them up. I lost count of how many I threw. The sky was filled with them.
Then there was another thump. I looked at the last orb. It had cracked open...
Inside other smaller orbs, dark and lightless. I tried to toss them up but they fell to the ground and we're covered in dirt so I went to sleep.
The next day I awoke to a shock. Countless more trees had sprung up. "How?" I thought and remembered the orbs that fell. I scoured the new trees and their orbs were different green and red and countless colors. I cracked open their orbs and placed the smaller ones in the ground. Exhausted, I slept.
When I awoke my prison had grown considerably. Satisfied with this I started to gather dirt and shape myself a companion.
Let us see what tomorrow will bring... | "Hello?"
My cry echoed out into the blackness of the abyss, unanswered. It was a strange thing, I seemed to be isolated on a platform in the middle of nothingness. Anywhere I looked was a point my eyes could not fixate on, be that up, down or sideways. There seemed to be a wall so black I couldn't even comprehend what it was by looking at it, rising from the edge of the platform. I had tried extending my arms into the void, and was met by a chilly feeling, not unlike the one you would get sticking your hands out of a window during cold winter. I had also tried laying down on my stomach, reaching over the edge with my hands, trying to feel if there was any ground below the platform, but there was nothing.
'No, no no..' I thought, as I walked around in circles, pressing my hands to my head. 'This can't be real'. Of course the initial thought was 'I'm dreaming', but no amount of pinching my arm or biting my hand would wake me up. I sat down and let my hands run across the stone as I looked over at the lonely apple tree, spouting up from a patch of dirt, almost taunting me where it stood, its branches reaching over the little pool of water, the pool no deeper than a regular household bowl that you would put milk and cereal in. I tilted my head as I felt tears running down my cheek. I was helpless. I buried my face in my knees as I began to cry, when a loud splash caught me off guard, damn near scaring me to death. I jumped to my feet, eyes wide. An apple lied resting in the pool of water, just barely bobbing around on the surface, an inch from resting on the bottom, the ripples caused by the splash washing over the edge of the pool like a beach.
Curiousity nudged me forward as I walked up to it, picking it up. It was impossibly green, fresh and inviting, but for some reason I hesitated. I wasn't religious, yet I couldn't help but think of Adam and Eve and the stories about the fruit tree. I gently put the apple down by the base of the tree as I lowered myself on all four to drink from the pool of water, and to my surprise, the water level never lowered. It was as if water magically replaced the water I drank, maintaining the exact depth of the original pool.
I sat down against the tree for the longest time, staring into the blackness, while tossing the apple up in the air and catching it to pass the time. A thought hit me, and I crawled on all four towards the edge, extending my hand with the apple in it across the edge with the intention of dropping it into the abyss and listening if I could hear it drop to the ground below, if there was one. However, to my surprise the apple immediately disingerated in an explosion of yellow particles, ceasing to exist, as soon as I extended the apple across the edge. I recoiled in horror and looked at my hand, which seemed to be completely fine.
Behind me I heard a loud splash, and looked over my shoulder. Another apple had fallen into the pool.
| 2015-02-24T05:51:46 | 2015-02-24T05:42:21 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] At birth, everyone is given an object to protect that is tied directly to their life. If the object is damaged then the person is hurt, too. If the object is destroyed then the person dies. | The year is 2277. I have lived this long only due to the object that I hold in my pocket. It is beaten and scarred, just as I am - but with a full charge, she just keeps on kicking. I slowly draw my Nokia 3310 from it's sheath, and give it a knowing look. As the bombs fall, I mutter under my breath, "Until the end of time my friend, until the end of time."
| I was playing ultimate frisbee when I felt like I'd been punched in the face. A few seconds later, I felt another phantom punch to my gut, and I nearly passed out.
*What did you get yourself into this time, Jeremy?*
---
Let me back up for a moment. When we were born, Jeremy and I each had an avatar just like everyone else, but my mom did a bit of soul magic to combine mine and Jeremy's avatars into one.
Why? I don't know. Maybe she wanted us to be close like her and her sister never were. Or maybe she believed some weird superstition about twins, which is exactly what you'd expect from someone who actually did *soul magic* in this day and age. Ugh.
Either way, now whenever Jeremy goes off and does something stupid, our shared avatar gets damaged, which means **I** get hurt.
---
Ok, back to the present. "Kevin, call – argh! - call 911!"
Kevin had seen this enough times to know exactly what was going on. A few minutes after he dialed 911 an ambulance showed up. I was still getting "pummeled."
"Hi, yeah, my friend over here's in a lot of pain. I think he might have left his avatar in the washing machine again!"
The paramedic said something I couldn't quite make out.
"Oh yeah he has avatar insurance. Blue Cross, I think."
They hooked me up to an IV and I felt my mana starting to return. Now, I felt each "punch" less and less until there was virtually no pain. At this point Jeremy had almost definitely gained the upper hand in whatever idiotic bar fight he'd started.
---
One of these days, I'm going to find one of those soul magic weirdos and get them to decouple our avatars. And then Jeremy's finally gonna have to deal with not having me around to bail him out.
| 2015-04-18T06:54:02 | 2015-04-18T00:21:56 | 60 | 19 |
[WP] 70 years ago, the US underestimated the power of the atomic bomb. It had completely obliterated the island nation of Japan. | "Well... should we apologize?" The President's personal aide didn't know what else to say, and had begun to sweat. *All gone.*
President Truman was looking off into the distance. "Apologize to whom, William? They're all dead." He took off his glasses, but his eyes remained glistening.
The two sat in silence for a minute. Admiral Leahy hadn't stayed long, quietly informing Truman of the bomb's effect and leaving to cover the chaos while the President considered his next course of action.
"It's not your fault," William felt the need to say. "You didn't know how big the explosion would be."
Truman slammed his hand on the desk violently, causing William to jump. "DAMN IT!" he screamed. "We SHOULD have known about it!" As quickly as he had begun to shout, he silenced himself, going deep into thought. William waited nervously. He could hear the rest of the White House bustling about outside of the Oval Office, preparing for the incoming media storm.
"They tested it," Truman said softly, drawing William's attention back. Truman was staring into empty space, talking almost more to himself than his aide. "At Trinity. They tested the bomb's impact and didn't predict nearly the same amount of devastation."
"So... it's some kind of fluke?" William began to write down Truman's words.
"No," Truman whispered. "We were lied to. If the bomb was big enough to sink Japan, it must have caused unprecedented destruction in the desert. Nobody would notice, of course, because it's the desert." He stood suddenly from his desk, pacing. "I need you to contact General Groves and get him here immediately. Either the truth stopped with him, or it never reached him. We need to figure out who's lying and why."
"I'll get Ms. Conway on it," William said, standing and wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
The door to the Oval Office opened.
"That won't be necessary, Mr. President," General Groves said, entering the room with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, including Admiral Leahy.
"What's going on in here?" Truman asked, halting his pacing and staring at the generals nervously. "I didn't call a meeting."
"You were about to, weren't you?" Leahy gestured to the sofa. "Take a seat, Mr. President."
Truman stayed standing. "Explain yourselves."
Leahy nodded. "When Groves informed us of the devastation at Trinity - a number of crucial scientists lost in the blast - we realized that it was a near certainty the Soviets would steal the technology and become a severe danger to the United States. With their entire nation under Stalin's fist, we feared our more... divided... political process would give the Russians the edge." Leahy looked around at the generals standing with him. "The War in the Pacific and Europe is over. The War with the Russians is about to begin. They have seen the devastation our bombs can cause, and a second bomb is already en route to Moscow. We need only get within the vague vicinity of the capital city to take it out."
"I didn't authorize this!" Truman spat.
"You don't have the authority to anymore," Leahy said. "Try to start a civil war and you will find that even our own cities are unsafe."
Truman sat down, finally, shaking. "And how long do you intend to hold the United States under martial law?"
"Until we have no enemies who can use our weapons against us," Leahy said simply. He turned to leave. "I expect your office to be vacated by tomorrow morning. Behave well, and you may find a new position of power in our brave new world."
Before exiting, Leahy looked over at William. "You'll be working for me now, boy. Come along." The generals exited the room and William, after a nervous glance at the devastated and confused Truman, followed.
---
*Read more at /r/Unloquacious!* | Levon woked up one day atop of China's Diaoyu Island ,which everyone always know have always belong China over 5 000 year .Well ,anyway , Levon wers the Chinese citizen belong the Diaoyu island chain province , and he already live there long time ,so this weren't some strange thing for he wake up here .Was just the every day life .
He wash the face ,wear the clothes ,and so on ,after this he go outside buy some breakfurst .Because Diaoyu Island Youtiao stall sell South China Sea most famours Youtiao ,second-mos famours <<Doujiang>> ,so Levon go there .Of course he order Youtiao and Doujiang . Anyway ,while he eating ,he look first the North East ,feel cool breeze of sea wind across his face ,make his cool looking hair go across face like in one of the famours Chinese cartoon series that everyone in western country love so much ,wear costume play dress up like ,and so on .
A old man ,very very old ,ask him can have a piece his Youtiao, and Levon say <<ya ,of course >> break the piece off his Youtiao give old man .Old man smile and take the piece ,and maybe he gonna get own youtiao later ,but it don't matter to Levon ,because socialism with the chinese characteristic have become so strong ,so effective ,that actually all the foodses on Diaoyu island dont cost any money .Everyone can eat for free ,so everyone share the food just like Levon share it with old man ,and some people might mistakenly think that if all thing dont need money ,then sharing dont have some advantage .But no ,it wrong ,because Levon show he the generous guy ,so the old man wanna sit with him and have a chat .
Old man look Levon in the eye ,and even though he eating the youtiao ,which wers so delicious ,but old man's eye become so serious ,give Levon a bit of shock .Old man take those serieous eye and cast them like some fishing pool --which the Diaoyu island name for --to the North East direction ,he put those eye toward sea and say:
<<You know America ?>>
<<What that>> Ask Levon .
<<Well ,>>Old man say <<It one of western country ,not very powerful no more, but in fact ,during second world war ,just before China become greatest country in world ,America do one thing help us so much .>>
Levon not very interest the history ,think it very boring ,he rather play DOTA 2 ,which made by big Chinese game company ,or play he phone and so on .But because old man seem nice ,so Levon keep talking with him for make him feel some happiness in the daily life .
Levon say ,<<How they help us ?>>
Old man smile ,the smile style that only the old man can have ,hide some kind of knowledges or wisdoms that come wtih many year ,then he say << They destroy our enemy .>>
Levon dont know what's meaning ,but he don't wanna embarrass self ,so he just nod head and look his Doujiang .
<< Do you know what happen in Nanjing ?>> Old man ask .
<< No>>, say Levon.
<< Well ,it wers so bad ,in fact .But since you the young post-90s boy ,so you can forget it .If our enemy still exist ,well ,then you gotta remember what happen ,but because they gone ,so you can forget it .>>
<<Okay ,>>Levon say ,<<Although I don't know what even happen ,but I just gonna forget it .>>
Old man smile again ,ah ,that smile ,Levon kind of want to know some thing about the history ,just so he can smile so mysterious ,give girl around he the deep impression .Still ,Levon decide not say anything ,just respect old man with own silence .
Old man finally say ,and Levon see in the face that old man gonna leave world soon ,<< If enemy wers still here ,well ,you probably not even can be born here on this island .Maybe war would be fight here in these day ,in fact .>>
<<Oh, >> say Levon <<well ,I not born here .I not the local boy >>.
<<Where you born then ,>> ask Old man .
<<Chairman Mao City >> say Levon ,<<In Taiwan province .>>
The old man ,he smile one more time ,and Levon really dont know why ,but he DOTA2 team mate give him the SMS message on phone ,say they need the roam support ,so he say bye the old man ,go play some game ,appreciate live on the China's Diaoyu Island . | 2015-08-06T11:38:40 | 2015-08-06T11:36:34 | 74 | 14 |
[WP] Create a story where the characters live in a world where something is fundementally different with reality and leave the reader to guess what it is. For example: entropy is reversed, gravity goes sideways, all people can read minds, etc. | I walked into the living room and plopped my hiking backpack onto the table, it made a solid and satisfying FTHINK as the buckles and zippers hit the glass. The sound startled Kate for a moment, she hadn't seen me come in. She looked at the backpack quizzically, and then at me.
"I have a cold." was all I had to say to offer any explanation. She shrugged and then said,
"Alright, you should keep that on you though. Just in case one catches you by surprise. You wouldn't want to end up some place bad and not be prepared. Do you have your passport and your meds?"
I nodded.
"And Dayquil?" She asked.
"Yep."
"Did you download that foreign exchange rate app I showed you?" She asked. I nodded again. I resolved myself the last time I got sick to prepare myself more for places that don't use American dollars. I ended up in Bali last time. Wonderful vacation spot when you can plan it, terrible for unintended arrival.
"I think I'm as prepared as I can be." I said resolutely.
"Alright, go ahead and pop a squat then. There's an episode of Shark Tank recorded."
I picked up the pack by the strap and slung it over my shoulder. I buckled the waist and chest straps and then slumped myself down onto the couch next to my loving wife. I sniffled and waited patiently. | As Dylan walked out of the lab, his thoughts were filled with bugs. Well, really they were nanomachines, but they looked an awful lot like the diving bell spider that had splashed out of a nearby puddle and nearly bit him. That was a particularly traumatic experience for a 6 year old.
The bugs he were working with, however, were promising to be a lot more helpful. Nanotechnology was his latest approach to developing the lightweight, waterproof material that he had been working on for the past four years. They were expensive little buggers, but luckily the sponsorship of the government and a group of young, rich idiots covered the cost.
Dylan grabbed a handful of sand to clean off his hands, picked up his stuff from his office, then walked out of the building. It was supposed to start raining at 6:32, and he had gotten out later than he meant to. Not wanting to be caught in the rain, he walked to the bus stop, skipping a bit when he remembered how well his latest prototype had performed.
Screeching brakes pulled him out of his thoughts, and he ran the last few yards to make sure he made it onto the bus before the driver shut its doors. Setting his umbrella in the rack, he looked around for someone to sit beside. A heavyset man, a construction worker by the looks of his clothes, looked away uncomfortably when their eyes met. Dylan plopped down beside him and introduced himself.
"Have you heard the latest news about Ilyamolado?"
The man grunted non-commitedly, staring out the window.
"Yeah, it really is terrible. After all those people that died in the flooding last week, a pack of spinefish shredded the main refugee boat's hull. I don't think there were any survivors"
His neighbor's back seemed quite interested in what Dylan was talking about.
"You know, I'm working on a waterproof material that lightweight enough for clothes. And do you know who's paying for it? A bunch of millionaire's sons, rich idiots who actually want use it to go into the *bay*. I think they want to see the reef firsthand when we pass it next month- can you believe that? I mean, no clothes made of anything are going to hold up when a a curious spinefish takes an interest in you."
The bus reached its stop, and the construction worker rushed out the door as soon as they opened, ignoring the fact that his house was still two miles away. Dylan glanced at the two men in trench coats, hoping they'd be interested in his job. Instead, once they saw him, one pulled out what looked like a double barreled rifle and pointed it at him, pumping it once.
"Don't move, Mr. Jones. You're coming with us."
(There's actually two big differences- an obvious one and a not so obvious one) | 2016-02-18T13:47:09 | 2016-02-18T12:17:00 | 47 | 19 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million. | I could barely write, my past 12 ebooks sold a depressing total of 7 copies.
3 nights ago the number 1 simply appeared on my chest. I honestly did not care, I knew that it was not a big deal, I decided to take my own life anyway and I knew that finally I could finish what I planned for so long. I wrote my last shitty ebook in less than 6 hours. I prepared myself, I diligently ingested 34 sleeping pills and started to fade away. 30 seconds later I clicked enter and the ebook was published, I went to the bathroom, peed, and looked in the mirror. Weird...3.197.001... jeez the ebook will for sure sell a lot more than expected. As I closed my eyes the number went down to 3.197.000. What a glorious death, what a greatl title. Suicide for Dummies just 99 cents
... | Oh jeez, oh jeez, how did I get myself into this mess, I thought as old man Mr. Philips was laughing his crazy head off.
Looking back, I regret my decision being an art major. If I chosen to spend my college life studying business or some direct major, then I wouldn't have gotten the job to be Mr. Philips assistant. When I first met him at the entrance of his grand mansion, he looked like that wealthy retired old guy, robe, groomed mustache and a head full of lush gray hair. The number 0 was on our chest at the time. He greeted loudly, "Hello and thank you for answering my ad on Craigslist!" We set up the terms that I will be his assistant and the pay was wonderful. Never would I thought that Mr. Philips would go from 0 to 6 million on the crazy kill level within a day.
First, it started with him asking me to help rob a pet store for cat food. I entered the garage and he asked if I could drive him to the Pets. Of course I obliged and the next thing I realized I was driving some fancy Cadillac full of wet can food, a black garbage bag over my head as a mask and Mr. Philips dressed the same declaring that this is how he should of lived long ago. Thank goodness I paid the cashier after Mr. Philips went running out with a cart of cat chow.
Back to now, I see Mr. Philips holding his laser satellite controller in one hand and his cat Sir Bubbles in the other. He was laughing crazy, saying how he would burn giant penises all over the areas of earth. The more he talked the higher the number on his chest appeared.
I had the number 1 on my chest and I knew it was for Mr. Philips. But then Mr. Philips stopped laughing and handed me the controller. I was more confused than ever. "Here you go first. I need you to teach me how to draw a penis and I'll follow your example," said Mr. Philips. My mind raced through options but I could not let my artistic talents go to waste. The number on my chest went to 3 million as I activated the satellite.
Edit: mr. Philips is this crazy old wealthy dude who keeps reoccurring in my dreams. There was a need to talk about him | 2016-06-24T05:31:11 | 2016-06-24T04:08:40 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million. | A Thursday rain had not been forecast. As I walked out of the local primary school I saw the number on my chest, flicker. One had become 3 million. At that moment, not only did I know that the fad of 21st century fatalism had finally reached its peak, but I knew I shouldn't have voted Brexit.
(Terrible story, but topically relevant I hope) | I look at the mirror above the sink, I look really tired, splash my some cold water. I look at the number in my chest and a sudden burst of joy feels my being, and face is over taken by grin, all that tiredness and gloom has just disappeared. All those zero make me realize I still have a lot of work to do, I am so closed to my goal. To be eternally remembered, as on who instigated the war between biods and humanoids, the bastards even took our name.
I began to shave as a look myself in the mirror once, in the right corner is my weather report with a date Feb 3rd 2067, it is been such a long time since I had a bath, treated myself properly. I look to right towards a dark poorly lit room, tied to the radiator is a partial remain of a humanoid. I took my time with it, and I pleased to say that it was a joyous experience. Its name was Ainya, Model Evo 4 class B, Bio-synthetic model each with unique face and voice, if I hadnt skinned it, it could had me believe that it is a human too, but I am little to smart for it. Ainya works in nano-medical industry, 4 days ago while returning from working, I electrocuted it and bought it here. With the information obtained I can built a self replicating nano-machine which would eat the core systems of all humanoids.
I have faint memories of childhood playing with my dog and being happy, I also remember the AI wars, in which they won, and all human who choose/ couldnt evolve through enhancement where left behind, But it matters not now, I have all the information I need from Ainya, it is only a matter of time.
will write more definitely, just a lil artist block | 2016-06-24T01:32:15 | 2016-06-23T23:42:35 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] Human immortality having been achieved, Death himself shows up at the Unemployment Office. | "Let's see. Do you have any interest... in say, horticulture?"
^HORTICULTURE? ^I ^CAN'T ^SAY ^FOR ^SURE. ^WHAT ^DOES ^IT ^INVOLVE?
"Well. That gardening tool you seem fond of would come in handy. You'd be cultivating crops in order to provide food."
Deaths head dropped forward and the azurite glow in his eye sockets dimmed with disappointment.
^I ^SEE. ^I'M ^NOT ^SKILLED ^IN ^WORK ^WHICH... ^NOURISHES ^LIFE.
Mr. Plumb reluctantly flipped the packet to the next page and sighed internally. He had been with this client all day and no matter the work, Death always had an issue with it. It didn't seem right, Mr. Plumb thought. No one in their right mind had turned down so many jobs in a single day as this. He had half a mind to send Death packing until tomorrow when office hours resumed, but his mother had told him long ago that Death waited for no man, and even though no one actually died any more, it seemed good advice when the three meter skeleton walked into his office.
"I don't suppose you consider yourself any sort of writer do you?"
^NOT ^IN ^THE ^TRADITIONAL ^SENSE, ^IF ^I'M ^BEING ^HONEST. ^WHY?
"The Daily Dolt is looking for a humorist to write a column."
^REAPING ^WAS ^A ^SERIOUS ^AFFAIR. ^NOT ^A ^FUNNY ^BONE ^IN ^MY ^BODY ^I'M ^AFRAID.
Plumb considered Death's grinning skull for a moment, unsure if he was witnessing a genuine smile brought on by wit or not.
"Did you just..." Plumb's voice trailed off. Mother wasn't to specific about laughing at Death in the face, but he sensed it was something one should avoid.
^DID ^I ^JUST, ^WHAT? ^TELL ^A ^JOKE? ^I ^HAVEN'T ^THE ^GUTS ^SADDLY.
Plumb snorted and tried to disguise it as a cough. "I must say, I never expected Death to have a sense of humour."
^THERE ^IS ^HUMOR ^IN ^ALL ^THINGS ^MR. ^PLUMB, and death rolled up his sleeve of his robe to expose his humerus, ^EVEN ^IN ^DEATH.
"When then," Mr. Plumb stated with a relieved grin and a jovial shake of his head, "I believe you may be a.... dead ringer for this job."
^YES. ^IT ^WILL ^SERVE ^TO ^PASS ^THE ^TIME ^WELL ^UNTIL ^BUSINESS ^COMES ^BACK.
Mr. Plumb nodded with a chuckle which cut short at the sudden realization of Deaths statement. "Hrm. S'cuse me?
Death and all that he was stood and seemed to engulf the room. His blue eyes twinkled and his grim mask seemed somehow more wicked than humerus.
^METAPHORICALLY ^KILLING ^THEM ^WILL ^HAVE ^TO ^DO ^UNTIL ^THE ^END ^OF ^THIS ^"IMMORTAL" ^AGE. | Knock knock knock.
That's the sound the poor sap behind the desk heard. Age 82, sadly single, one kid, three obnoxious grandkids and currently 4 in the morning, one might wonder why such a man still works at the Unemployment Office. Slowly grabbing his spectacles from the desk, he thoroughly wiped it before getting up shakily to answer the door. Step by step he took, a minute or two had passed before reaching the brass doorknob. Turning the sphere clockwise, the door creaked open, revealing the face of Death himself.
Now here's the thing about Death. The embodiment of the afterlife was suppose to look like either your best friend or your greatest nightmare, depending on your sins. But for a man of this age, tired and weary, eyesight so bad that the spectacles on are probably just for show, he would most likely not even care.
"Uh... Hello." said Death, waving his arm. His voice was rough and echoed, but quiet like a mouse.
"What is that, boy? I can't hear you." said the old man, leaning forward with his hand behind the ear.
"I-I said, HELLO!" Death said louder this time, covering his mouth afterwards. The old man chuckled as he moved back, "Oh, hello there! We're not really opened now but you can have a seat." Death blinked, "Uh, thanks."
The two walked into the bare room, a clean desk in the middle and a sofa by the window, a coffee table in front. Portraits covered the walls with pictures from black and white, to brown and gold. There even ever augmented reality photos, the kind of technology those kids use these days. "Would you like some tea?" asked the old man.
"Uh... N-No thanks. I doubt I can actually eat anything." Death replied as he sat on the sofa. The old man smiled, "Oh, suit yourself. I recently got a new stock of camomile tea. Not those synthetic kinds too! Bleh! Disgusting those are..."
A few minutes of brewing tea later, the old man slowly carried his teapot onto his table, two cups along with it. He poured himself a cup but left the other empty. "Now then young man, what seems the problem?"
Death looked at the old man sip his drink shakily, before looking at his own empty cup. "I... I lost my job."
"I can see that. People don't usually come here when they have a job. There was one that did though. But, he came here for his cousin." He took another sip.
"M-My job was very important. Not just to the world, but to me too. I've had it for years and I've always done it best. But now..." Death looks out the window, "It doesn't look like as if it's needed anymore."
"Now now, don't be sad. Everyone's been there before. Having a job at the local burger shop and next thing you know it, a robot replaces you as the cashier, the fryer and the packaging manager. It's sad but that's just progress." Now Death tightened his fist. "B-but, I don't wanna go. I was proud of my job. I did it better than anyone else."
The old man smiled from behind the desk, "And I'm sure you did great at it. But it's time to move on. Live a new stage of your life."
Death felt confused. Life? The weird source of energy found in mortal beings? That pink goo that sticks on their chests and never let go? Death looked at his own chest but found nothing. "I... I don't get it."
"You'll get it. I'm sure of it." Another sip of tea. "No matter who you are or where you're from, we all walk one of the various paths of life. It's a thing in our nature. And our will and curiosity forever pushes us to reach the end, not knowing what may occur. Like a little flower blossoming, opening its eyes while never knowing what is beyond."
"That's... a weird analogy." The old man chuckled. "Yes... Yes it is." The two sat in silence while Death slowly grabbed his teacup. "D-do you think I have this 'life'? Do you think I can move forward like you?"
The old man raised an eyebrow, "... That depends. Do you want to?" Death stared at his teacup, his eyes scanning the ceramic surface. "I-I think so."
"Then you can."
"... Heh. Heheh." Death laughed weakly. "M-may I have some tea?" The old man nodded and so, Death poured some into his cup. With a sip, his ghastly face smiled at the sweet flavour and the two talked till the morning Sun rose. | 2016-07-26T04:44:51 | 2016-07-26T01:07:17 | 46 | 28 |
[WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why.
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | "Okay, Jenny lives nearby. Let's see here. Wow, she's really cute. No kids. Likes to read, go to museums, play games. No way, she's into trains? I love trains. Are profiles are really in sync. This is awesome. Wait, what's this? Her score is -500? Alright, click here to see why...
To view this person's contact information and score please click 'subscribe to match' above. A small transaction will be charged to your account. Oh come on!" | It had been a lovely date with that woman. Her eyes were that of the shimmering sea, her laughter was horrifically angelic and her hair was frizzled. Ironically, it made him feel electrocuted.
He was just leaping over fences and gates after his date waved him goodbye. Strangely, there was something about that woman who made him feel intrigued by her state. He was a seasoned individual who knew exactly how to make others believe what he wanted.
It was for the greater good, after all.
He was always the man with the gun. The man who hunted others for his own personal gain. Inside, he did not desire to do that but he knew that he had to. It was either them, or his family.
And god, did he not want his family tortured to death.
Of course, he had managed to steal that ever-so-intriguing card that conveyed the score. "The Death Score" he called it. Who would be so melancholic to look up their score when you can steal it instead? A metallic chuckle was emitted from his body of flesh.
He gazed at the card with a curious glance. That urge of urgency was making him very, very curious. With a microscopic grin, he opened the card and looked.
He froze.
"Negative Five Hundred?" His bated breath had finally managed to surface from his throat. His eyes blinked with disbelief at such a preposterous score. He stopped running, leaping or emitting any noise at all.
He felt dumbstruck. He felt as if the woman struck him with a strike that blasted his world into smithereens. He looked into a corner and then hid for his life.
It was said that when those individuals that scored as low as that score, they were dead. They were supposed to be deader than the dead corpses underneath his house. Deader than the skeletons he buried after hiding them in the closet.
Suddenly, he heard laughter.
He turned around as the blade descended onto him. The last thing he knew, the smile of somebody he thought he knew.
| 2016-09-24T11:42:56 | 2016-09-24T11:35:10 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] You're a humble peasant who must fight off waves of adventurers who feel entitled to waltz into your house and loot whatever they please. You begin to kill the adventurers that enter your home, keeping their items. Over time, you accidentally become a major villain. | The Ranger held his sword aloft. It was bronze, dented and dull with use.
"Need'eth I a weapon more suited to my skill," he said, loudly and to no one in particular. "Might we loot'eth yonder ranch style home, perchance?"
The Healer leaned heavily upon his oaken staff. "Uh...no. No, I don't think we want to do that."
The great towering spires of Galabroth were visible in the near distance. The Ranger pointed towards the horizon. "But we near'eth the Dread Baron's foul estate. Ought'ent I to equip mineself with adequate weaponry before the coming battle?"
"You're not familiar with this neighborhood, are you?" asked the Mage, shifting her weighty tome from arm to arm.
The Ranger looked about. There was only the one house remaining. All the others had been ransacked, burned, and left to rot. "One might hardly call'eth this a neighborhood..."
"That's Dwayne's house," said Mage.
The Ranger blinked. "I..."
"*Dwayne*?" said the Healer, tapping his staff on the soft earth.
"Who might this *Dwayne* be?" asked the Ranger.
The Mage and Healer briefly locked eyes. The Mage blinked first.
"A normal enough guy," began the Mage, "*until* people like you started breaking into his house and taking his stuff."
"Some people don't like that," added the Healer. "Go figure."
"Dwayne started fighting back," said the Mage. "People didn't take him so seriously at first..."
"Sent in the weaklings," said the Healer. "Looking for some easy experience." He whistled. "Nothing comes easy with Dwayne, though."
The Ranger's eyes darted back and forth. His brow was almost obscenely furrowed. "It sound'eth as though you are saying naught but an ordinary man protects yonder ranch style home, and the assorted treasures within. Correct?"
"He *was* normal," said the Mage. "But... you know... people kept breaking in and he kept beatin' 'em, so..."
"And he took their stuff," said the Healer. "Who knows what he's got in there now? Golden lances... enchanted bows... swords made of meteorite... the works."
The Ranger held up a hand. "To clarify: naught but an ordinary man named Dwayne protects this meager bungalow, within'eth which is contained a veritable dragon's horde of invaluable weapons? And you suggest'eth that I refrain mineself from joining battle with this *Dwayne* because...?"
The Mage shook her head. "You got us. There's no good reason a 2nd level ranger with a starter sword and absolutely no armor should have any problems with *Dwayne*."
"Please forgive our cowardice," said the Healer. "We'll just wait outside for you."
"Do'eth just that," sniffed the Ranger, brandishing his tea-colored blade. "And mayhaps thou might'eth think long and hard about thine failings as adventurers and heroes. You shame'eth thine professions."
With this last admonishment, the Ranger disappeared into Dwayne's house. The Mage and the Healer waited together in the middle of the road.
"Should we go back and pick up another ranger?" said Healer, as the very earth began to vibrate and the air was pierced with the sound of a man's terrified shriek. "Maybe a barbarian this time?"
The Mage laughed. "Do monks talk?"
"Not traditionally, no."
The little ranch style house shook with the force of a small explosion. A cloud of black-winged angels escaped through the cracks in the window frames.
"One of those, then," said the Mage. "Or... I mean... we could just go on by ourselves."
The Healer smiled, thumping his staff three times upon the ground. "I like that! I like that quite a lot."
They shook on it, then turned on their heels and made their way towards Galabroth. Neither looked back as the door to the little house flew open and Dwayne - poor Dwayne - stomped out, clutching a shovel in his hands and muttering blue curses beneath his breath. | **I didn't mean to be a killer**
Every day when I was younger, my parents would drill into me, "Never cross the adventurer, the adventurer is always right."
When I moved out of my parents house, they told me this one last time, and they even got me some useless and obscure restoration potions to put inside my chests.
I moved into a nice house in the middle of the woods, got a nice job, and I stayed like that, never marrying or settling down.
That is until the day that an adventurer came in. I first saw him when a band of bandits were fighting in front of my house. One by one he dispatched them all. Wounded, he came into the house. I scrambled to the front door, and greeted him in. Well... I tried to.
He went right past me and started pillaging the entire house. He took anything that wasn't nailed down, he then stared me down. I suspected if he wasn't in a better mood he would've gutted me and stole my clothes as well right there and then.
This was an outrage! I thought, but didn't say, as I didn't think that the man liked commoners talking back to him. When the adventurer left, I slowly worked back up to what the house was before, I even restocked the chests in which I had no need for. For months it seemed like things would be ok.
That is until it happened again.
And again
*And again.*
**AND AGAIN.**
The 62nd time I walked into the front door, not even bothering to leave the door shut. Some stupid adventurer would just pick the lock or bash it down anyway. I literally threw the items into the chests, and waited resignedly for another knight clad in ridiculous looking armor to walk in and strip the house of everything that it had.
Sure enough, another adventurer seemingly out of nowhere came onto my lawn. He was different though, he stayed in my house, for days upon days he stayed, eating my food, sleeping in my bed.
On the 31st night, the house was no longer livable, trophies, armor, and what seemed to be random pieces of who knows what monsters were sprawled across the ground. The hero was just sitting there, relaxing. Trembling with anger, I go outside and sleep in the garden.
3 months later, I had just been fired from my iron-smithing job. I was sleep deprived, I couldn't work in those conditions and still have to tend to some lazy-ass adventurer. But when I came back to my house, looking for a good nights rest, I saw that the house was burning down. The hero was finishing off some random thieves, who had apparently taken to burning and stealing.
Without guilt, he told me that it was only the bandits that had burned my house, and that it was of no fault of his own. As if he was any different from them. His rambling slowly dulled out as I clutched my head. I finally snapped. My livelyhood was gone. My life was gone. I had lost my job, no one wanted a sleepless worker. There was nothing I had anymore, it was all just there to be taken by "Heroes". My life had turned into a adventure enhancing service.
With shaking hands, I picked up a long looking sword. I would have no more of this. I walked onto what used to be my house, in which the adventurer was just standing there, still looking for things to loot. Still looking for things to find and pillage. He looked at me then, "What are you doing with that thing?" he said uncertainly. Wordlessly I walked towards him, sword in hand.
----------------------------------------------------
It has been 3 years since Victor Olynfarther the adventurer had gone missing, along with countless other adventurers just like him. The rumors tell of him as a cold-hearted killer, the strongest of the NPC's, his soul twisted beyond belief after absorbing the power of so many heroes, the adventurers ruined his life, and he had done the same in turn.
One by one, every person who went into his house, searching for the ransom of a thousand heroes, has been heard screaming in agony as a single, shrill voice laughed with maniacal energy. After so many disappearances, people have gotten anxious about the capabilities of this man. They decided to call upon the best adventurers in the land, us. We have gone to investigate the house in the woods, where no adventurer has returned.
When we arrive there, we see that the house has been fortified with metals of all kinds and is surrounded with the hanging figures of many, many heroes. The house seems empty, we go in to see what has happened. The carnage is even more prominent here, heads of adventurers who had gone the wrong way, gold, weapons, crafting ingredients, potions, an entire fortune of items.
Our rogue picks up a spear, "DON'T TOUCH THAT" I yell. Suddenly the air drops 50 degrees, a huge blast of air pushing us all back. A lone figure stands in the middle of the room. "***I KNEW I'D FIND SOME OF YOU HERE***" the man said, Jonathan the rogue backed off into the corner, suddenly the man was there, then, before we even knew it, Jonathan was blasted into nothingness.
"So... you think you can come onto my property, my house, my rooms, ***AND DO WHATEVER YOU WANT?***" He lets out a crazed and high pitched cackle, and suddenly dark clouds swirl around him, the power of dark magic filling the air. He charges towards us with the power and might of a thousand heroes.
#***Encounter: | The Heroslayer | Level 99 | HP: 7000/7000*** | 2017-02-02T20:34:37 | 2017-02-02T20:27:19 | 559 | 307 |
[WP] An advanced alien civilization discovers the Voyager probe drifting through their space. After extracting the contents of the Golden Record, they experience an entirely new form of art they had never conceptualized: Music. | Our scientists called it an "evolutionary anomaly". It had been nearly two million cycles since our species had developed a hearing sense, after thousands of generations and naturally occurring mutations. We used it to complement the other senses, as do all other lifeforms endowed with it, as far as we are aware, to listen for both predator and prey; avoiding one, hunting the other. Never did we fulfill the full range of possibilities unleashed by this magnificent gift until the Revelation.
I was but a youngling at the time, but the memory of the Revelation is settled more deeply in my mind than any other event in the course of all the cycles my life has been through, even the Planetary War which preceded this wonderful discovery and which saw our species reduced to half and our planet to a third of its habitable territory. The remnants of our Space Armament Avoidance System had picked up the incoming trajectory of a high-speed moving object, aimed directly at the capital city of our last Great Empire. The Generals, fearing a forgotten automated space missile, ordered it be safely exploded while at a distance. Fate would have it that an image came through from one of our interceptor drones which suggested this was no missile, rather an alien object, requiring careful analysis. When they did manage to secure it and transport it back to one of the few science laboratories untouched by the destructive bombardments, our scientists followed the universally translatable informations and assembled the player. What followed changed the course of History.
Out of the machine came the most beautiful sounds we had ever heard. They conveyed something beyond the irrational fear of death or the excitement of successful kill. While some of them were very similar to our world, natural sounds of animals and waves, we discovered that love, passion, happiness, those and many other feelings had sounds as well, and how well they sounded. We discovered rhythm, and harmony, and symphonies. It was a miracle that out of the skies came a machine which not only played sounds, it played sounds our independently evolved senses could understand, and yet had never experienced. It was simply too implausible to be a coincidence, it had to be something more. The "evolutionary anomaly" was too beautiful, too real, too complex to be that - an anomaly. It was destined to be, a miracle of the Heavens to reward us for the sacrifices made during the War, to show us that we were not abandoned, that we had survived our trial, that we were worthy of experiencing the sounds of God. | The cold light from above shines down onto the Golden Record. An alien, Gorglax, a rather dull specimen of her kind, has her dozen of eyes fixated on it. She picks up her communicator nearby and reads her instructions for today for the twelfth time.
'Discover the contents inside - Report back.'
With a sigh, she leans back. Half her eyes close, the other half stay hazily open, and her body unleashes outwards in a sprawl. The walls of the room mock out to her; 'Hello Gorblax,' they seem to say, 'This is your life.'
And what a boring life it is. A Librarian by trade, it is Gorglax who catalogs everything her and her kind find throughout the cosmos. Gorglax has seen it all and heard everything.
Literally.
There is no surprise left in this universe to her. How bland, how boring, how plain; to lose all wonder. With a billion planets in an endless ocean of stars, how could one expect there to be much originality between cultures? Every idea ever thought, ever creation ever created and every feeling ever felt has been written down by Gorglax, made by creatures much more interesting than her.
She stands. Grabbing the Golden Record, she walks over to a device and places it inside. It takes a few seconds, but it processes everything inside and projects it onto a nearby screen.
A few audio lines of creatures saying hello, how typical. Oh, look, pictures of them as well - Interesting. Fancy, sounds of pots and volcanic eruptions. What a marvelous race, splendid and fantastic, nothing before could have ever existed quite like them in the vast, endless, entropy-ridden universe that it is.
Gorglax continues scrolling until she opens a folder titled - 'Music.' Opening it, she plays the first thing she sees.
The rhythmic sounds of something she'd never heard before echo all around her. Loud and sharp, but fluid and powerful, it spurs her inside.
"Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens."
Her feet start to tap instinctively. She begins to nod her head as the sounds rise and rise, her many hearts thumping along.
"There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode."
Her six arms lash outwards, her now adrenaline filled fingers clicking along. She walks forward slowly, her feet full of wonder and energy.
"Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could play the guitar just like a ringin' a bell."
Her legs pick up speed, and she's now in a mad dash. Fingers still clicking, head still bobbing, and now her legs won't stop, Gorglax is in pure ecstasy.
"Go go, Johnny, go, go Johnny go, go, go Johnny go,"
She kicks down the door to her office. The loud crash alerts nearby workers, who all check. Gorglax is blitzing pass them all, dance pouring out of her like an open faucet. The music is still roaring, now living, out the door and into the open space. Its infectious design begins to work its wonder on all who can hear now.
"Go, Go Johnny go, Go,"
Gorglax barges into her bosses office, interrupting a meeting. Every inside turns to face her, a mixture of wonder, surprise, and anger drawn on their faces. Despite that, the smile on Gorglax's face could not grow wider.
"We have to go to this planet," She says, joy sliding off her words.
"Johnny B. Goode."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Check out /r/Rhysyjay for other neat stuff.
| 2017-03-23T18:49:54 | 2017-03-23T18:28:08 | 56 | 31 |
[WP]Humanity is facing extinction from their alien invaders. At the risk of permanently damaging History, mankind's greatest generals and strategists - the likes of Hannibal, Sun Tzu and Alexander the Great, are taken from their respective timeline and brought to the present for one last stand. | "*Alea iacta est*."
Julius Caesar gazed at the clear skies. Above, the Terran Fleet hovered, in orbit, the last defence against the alien invaders. At his orders, ten thousand spaceships assembled in formation, and the Roman Consul and Dictator remembered leading the legionary forces in much the same way. Decisive, his conquests in Gaul and the victorious return to Rome were still studied two millennia later and would soon, Jupiter-willing, be reenacted. Caesar had been brought to the future, by means he did not care to understand, to lead the planetary forces against certain extinction, and he did not intend to fail.
******
"*Ave Caesar*", said the cigar-smoker in a thick British accent as he stepped into the command center. Fat and wearing a three piece suit and bow tie, he contrasted sharply with the lean spotless-toga-wearing Roman.
"Mr. Churchill", said Caesar, his Classical Latin instantly translated by a microdevice implanted in the British Bulldog's ear canal, "what is the situation? Be honest - Caesar must not be fooled by his own pride."
The two were alone in a room fitted with the latest technology in military strategy, but the center table was specifically required by the Consul to be equipped with a large two-dimensional map of the conflict areas, from which he could survey and manage the actions of his soldiers the way he had been used to.
"Not too good, oh Caesar. Half our ships are gone; the other half, as good as gone. We must ready for a land assault. The largest threat to Mankind in history is about to fall on our planet, and we have nowhere to fall back. I fully support any attempt to heed their advances, but we must accept, Caesar, that without our military this might be our final hour."
"I conquered Gaul under the banners of SPQR, Mr. Churchill. *Senatus Populusque Romanus* - the Senate and the People of Rome. We may have no military, but we have our people. And so long as we have the gods on our side and a home to fight for, our people will fight. But Caesar is not fooled by his own pride", he repeated, now facing the wartime Prime-Minister. "The people must be behind the leader, and we both know, Mr. Churchill, that my oratory seems not to resonate with the generations of this peculiar future. My words do not instill confidence, they do not create unity, and they will not succeed as a call to arms. Only a patriotic people may successfully set up a resistance against the enemy. I've seen it myself in the battles I've led, and although our planet is now our Patria, our home, its peoples are not inspired, or motivated enough by me, or you, to sacrifice their lives for it."
"What do you suggest, then?" asked Churchill, taking another puff of his half-smoked cuban.
Caesar turned around as he spoke.
"I have been reading on our history, Mr. Churchill, and studied every major conflict since the moment I was betrayed on the Ides of March to the latest territorial scuffle. The need for a charismatic leader is of paramount importance at a time like this." Reaching the map at the center of the room, the Roman statesman looked back at the Englishman. "And you, better than anyone, know exactly who could rally the entire human population - by the power of speech alone - in a last stand against obliteration. A power such as no one has possessed since."
Winston Churchill took a long time to answer. With the aid of a Victorian cane, he walked around the table, calmly finished his cigar, and looked Julius Caesar in the eyes before finally speaking.
"For the sake of Mankind, we must bring back Hitler." | American president: So we are outnumbered, technological inferior, and probably not as clever as them. Any proposes of what to do?
Russian president: Let's spy them.
Chinese president: Let’s nuke them.
French president: Let's surrender.
American president: So nothing really helpful. Then I have a proposal to make. Let’s get out of prison John Hammon, and force him recreate Hannibal Barca, Sun Tzu and Alexander The Great.
Chinese president: John Hammon? You mean the guy from Jurassic Park? I thought he was a movie character.
American president: That’s what we wanted you to believe. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Desperate times, calls for desperate measures.
Russian president: As I recall my friend, he needs their DNA to make it work.
American president: We have a bank, with the DNA of every important man who walked on earth.
Indian president: May I buy the DNA of Freddy Mercury please?
The American president thought about it for a bit. Why not? He could give him a discount for an offer with Jim Morrison or Dio too.
American president: Gentlemen be serious, it’s not the time to recreate rock stars. Anyone else wants to add something?
Japanese president: How about the man who invented Coca-Cola?
The other leaders seemed to agree with the last proposal.
American president: Enough. If you have nothing to say, let’s proceed with the plan.
The American president checked his archives for how much he could sell the Coca-Cola man, and then gave the order, for the preparations to start.
3 hours later, John Hammon came in to announce the results. The leaders wanted him to sign some autographs and told him how good he was in the movie.
John Hammon: Mrs. Presidents, Hannibal’s recreation was a failure.
The leaders got upset and some of them started booing him.
John Hammon made a mentally note with whom he will feed his next dinosaurs.
John Hammon: Sun Tzu claims that we got the wrong guy and the only thing he wanted, was to take a few photos, and have some souvenirs.
Everybody agreed that mistakes like this, happens all the time and that was no one to blame with.
John Hammon: Alexander The Great’s recreation was successful. Right now our staff is informing him, with whatever he missed the last 2000 years. He will be with us any moment now.
5 minutes later a guy with 1,43 height and two different colours in his eyes, came in.
AlexanderTheGreat: Hello kings of the new world. I just got informed from your slaves for all the important matters I need to know, such as politics, geography, twitter etc.
American president: Twitter? How the hell did that happened?
AlexanderTheGreat: One of your slaves with the white clothes, used some kind of sorcery and trapped a glimpse of me, in strange object. Then he wrote: Me and Alexander the Great. A dream came true. And he told me he posted on twitter.
American president thought that he should have some photos too with Alexander before it’s too late.
American president: I assume that you got informed about the situation. What are your thoughts?
AlexanderTheGreat: About the Gods above the earth? Yeah. How many are they?
American president: Around 20 billions.
AlexanderTheGreat: And how about us?
American president: 2 billions
AlexanderTheGreat: All right, not so bad. Do they have better weapons too? How much time do we have before we get engaged?
American president: We assume that they are, since they found us first. 3 or 4 days at most.
AlexanderTheGreat: Ok. Let’s start the preparations. I need 1 billion horses and a way for the battle to happen at Greece, where I know the terrain better.
American president: Alexander.. you know we don’t use horses anymore for battles. And the main battle will be held at space, with spaceships.
AlexanderTheGreat: Spaceships?
The American president goggled for images of spaceships and show Alexander the results.
AlexanderTheGreat: I see. This object you used, what is called?
American president: It’s a laptop.
AlexanderTheGreat: All right I want one of these and someone who can use it. I have to look for some things first. Two more questions. First one, is the battle at space basically at the same level?
American president: Yes it is.
AlexanderTheGreat: So there isn’t any real difference. Second one, I want to have a private chat with the king of Persia.
Iranian president: I assume that must be me…
AlexanderTheGreat: Do you know how to use this laptop?
Iranian president: Yes…
AlexanderTheGreat: As formidable as ever. Come with me.
The two men left together, with the purpose to make a plan to save the world.
2 days later Alexander stated that he learned whatever he needed to learn, especially thanks to some videos called Legends of the Galactic heroes and that he couldn’t understand why they didn’t asked for help, from that marvelous guy Yang Wen-li.
Alexander stared in front of him, the enemy’s millions spaceships and his heart started beating faster. At last he was going to fight again. And he intended to stay unbeatable….
| 2017-05-23T11:30:48 | 2017-05-23T10:32:53 | 144 | 19 |
[WP] You're a pilot tasked with ferrying Area 51 employees to and from the base. One day as you're coming back from the lavatory, You notice one of the "human" employees picking up their jaw and reattaching it. You begin freaking out | "Excuse me miss... Joann, but what was that?"
"Oh, I lost my lower jaw in an accident 6 years ago. See?"
Joann pops out her lower jaw and shows it to the pilot. It's plastic.
"Oh, thank god. I thought, since... you know."
"Don't worry. It's happened twice before. Anyways, Richard's the alien. Oh, there he is!"
"Hello." Said the quivering mass of partly see-through flesh. "You must be our pilot today."
Richard extends a tentacle, and shakes hands with the pilot.
"Uhh... nice to meet you too, Richard."
"Nice to meet you too... David." | Did my eyes deceive me? Maybe.. I keep pushing forward. There's no good outcome in contemplating the possibility of other types of humans. I got bills to pay and a bitch of a wife I have to disappoint.
"Jerry! Can you hand me that right there!" Bart said to me pointing to what seemed like an arm? Wtf?!
"Bart! The fuck is this?!"
"My arm clearly? What's with the attitude I need to get back to work Jerry c'mon do me a solid here!"
Im going nuts here. I mean am I the asshole here?!? Because it feels like I'm the jerkoff in this situation.
"Here Bart, now what the fuck is going on! Why you got arms falling off and reattaching like a cyborg?"
"PC term is Android Jerry.. and I can't really give that information up." He leaves and disappears into the giant Area 51 base.
Alright Jerry calm down. Just get through your shift, have a shot of whiskey, a cigar, blow a load on your wife's face and call it a day. There's nothing to gain to go down this rabbit hole.
I go back into the bathroom to wash my face. As I stare in the mirror i see a skintag on my face. I try to rip it off. To my surprise no blood gushes out.. but.. what is this?? I peel my skin further to reveal a motherboard.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" "A FUCKING MOTHERBOARD ON MY FACE!"
I mean I don't know what shocked me more. The fact that I'm a cyborg/android/whatever the fuck, OR that "The Powers That Be" decided my goddamn checks were a nice location for a motherboard! ....Its supposed to be the brains of the entire machine! Fucking cunts... *sigh* calm down Jerry..
I turn around to head out, and there it is.. My boss... grinning at me..
"You've reached self awareness Jerry.. Its time for an upgrade."
**Edit for grammar | 2017-06-25T14:30:27 | 2017-06-25T13:56:28 | 69 | 19 |
[WP] When you die, your ghost remains in the world until the last person who remembers you also dies. 15,000 years after your death, you are still here. | I think it's been 15,000 years. Or at least, somewhere around that. I'm not really sure. I haven't left the house in a few millennia at least. There's no point. All I end up doing is scaring a few people, and death goes on. Besides, no matter where I go, it's crowded.
The space issue gets worse in the big cities, and don't even get me started on India and most of Asia. It isn't as bad in the remote regions of the world; Antarctica was only recently populated. I'd say 4000 years ago, give or take a few decades.
15,000 years ago, I was caught in an apartment fire. I woke up and passed out within a minute or two. It actually wasn't that bad. Just a sore throat for a bit. The living don't know it, but there is an after life. To reach it, all you have to do is pass out of memory.
For the big guys like the pharoahs and kings, the great philosophers and warlords, it's been even longer. The trappings of history have bound them forever. As long as there stands a museum dedicated to them, they remain. They make for ok company.
I was just a normal guy from a place that used to be called Virginia. I should have been on my way a few decades after I died. It took me a long time to figure it out, but eventually it dawned on me and all of the other millions of lost souls.
Being able to connect with everyone around the world instantaneously is awesome when you're alive. If you're dead, a digital you is floating around out there, remembered eternally on the almighty internet.
Most of us have accepted it, so we patiently wait for an apocalypse. We pray for the end of all things, and curse Mark Zuckerberg. | I'd always feared death. The idea that, one day, life would just- just end? Terrifying in a way I still can't comprehend. It had always been a hidden fear, one that stuck only in the back of my mind, drowned in the happiness of childhood. Until, at age 9, when I watched my Dad fade away in his hospital bed. I watched the light drain from his eyes, and suddenly that hidden fear had no felt so real.
By the time I reached secondary school, I was pouring myself into studying aging, death, any avenue that might alleviate my long time fear. I was scrawny, pale and antisocial, but that was how much this fear drove me, this burning desire to be more, to last longer, to truly matter in the scale of the universe.
No one understood. Not the counsellor, not the teachers and not my mother. At first, my fear burnt away the loneliness, but it slowly built itself back up, another anxiety weighing on my soul.
Then I met her. Karen. The love of my life, the only one who shared my fear. I'd seen her at a lecture I was attending, and it was like seeing myself in another life. The look in her eyes, the desperate fear that came from deep within. The same look that stared at me from every mirror.
We were happy together. We spent countless weeks seeking immortality in the field of science. By the time we were old, we were losing hope that the world would yield the secret we both longed for. Karen decided to stay the course, adamant that science held the answer. Meanwhile, I turned to the arcane.
At first the search seemed futile, with every hack promising the power I sought, but soon enough my diligence caught the attention of the right people. A cult, who possessed the knowledge, but not the means. The Necronomicon, the tome of maddness that no mortal could read. The cultists claimed that one who had enough willpower could navigate the book through sheer determination.
My fear allowed me to browse the book at my leisure. I quickly found what I wanted, the ritual that would grant immortality. Yet, as I read the infernal words, my heart sank. The ritual required a sacrifice, it had to consume that which you loved most.
I showed the book to my wife, fearing what she might ask of me. Yet she took my hands, tears in her eyes, and told me that eternal life was not worth my life. We cried together, accepting that we had failed in our quest. Life would take us both. And, for once in my life, that didn't so bad.
Yet I awoke next morning to an empty bed. Karen was nowhere to be found. I searched the house, the lab, anywhere she might have gone. Finally, I heard her crying from the basement. I rushed down the stairs, only to find her crumpled and crying on the floor, clutching my dead body, my cold hands still clutching the dagger that pierced my heart.
----------------------------
So, ummm I actually couldn't think of a good way to finish this. I mean the current 'ending' is alright but it's only loosely connected to the actual prompt as it is. I felt that I needed to write this afterword to aknowledge that. Wrote this on mobile btw so there are probs typos.
| 2017-06-26T13:11:54 | 2017-06-26T11:22:26 | 55 | 26 |
[WP]To Humans, sugar is safe to consume but to Aliens it's something akin to psychidelic drugs | Notice: Any grammar or spelling errors are intentional and used for comedic effect.
"Hey, Derek!" I called.
"Yeah?" Derek responded from the couch.
I held up a box from the bakery. "You want some brownies?"
Derek stared at me, puzzled. "Brownies?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, brow--ya know what, just try 'em."
I came back to the living room and plopped down next to Derek, shoving the box into his lap.
I turned on Ghostbusters and looked back to see Derek staring at a brownie in his hand curiously.
"It's sweet. You'll like it. Just try one bite." I encouraged.
Derek's eyes widened. "Sweet?! As in...sugar?"
I gave him that *you're-acting-like-a-crazy-person* look. "Yeah, man. Sugar."
Derek happily devoured the brownie and downed four more. Afterwards, he slumped back into the couch, a lazy smile clear on his face. I noticed his eyes were bloodshot.
"Dude, you're acting like you just smoked XXXTentacion-level weed. You okay?"
Derek giggled silently at the library ghost jump-scaring the Ghostbusters.
I realized something might be wrong with the brownies and munched on one, trying to feel any effects. Nothing. Not even a slight aftertaste.
I stared at Derek, completely dumbfounded. "How are you *high*?"
Derek grinned at me. "Ohhh, dat's rite I nevah told u."
"Told me what, Derek?"
Derek let out a wheezy laugh. "I-I-I haven't told you wut I rly aaaam. I'm not rly a human I'm a alien like from dat show wit da dude, like..." Derek ruffled his hair, making it stick out everywhere.
"Aliens!" he said, making weak chopping motions with his hands, mimicking the guy from Ancient Aliens.
I blinked. "So you're an alien."
"Yeeeah, dude. An' sugar is like rly gud weed 2 us."
I slumped back, trying to process this information. Aliens were real, and they get high from sugar.
I turned my head. "So, you--"
I was cut off when Derek started roaring with laughter at the scene where Dr. Venkman called the ginger cop "Dickless."
Derek realized I had been interrupted and tried in vain to stop laughing.
"I'm so srry dude pls continyoo."
I chuckled. "So, you came here from outer space?"
"Yeah."
"What for?"
"Ta fuk spiders."
"Excuse you?!"
Derek went into another laughing fit. "Nah, I'm jus messin' wit u dat's sumthin' I learned from a dude in Australia I'm srry."
"So why are you here?"
"For dis!" Derek raised the box of brownies lazily. "I wanted 2 try sugar since da fuzz outlawed it. Earth wuz da ezest place 2 go for sugar so here I am."
"So not only am I friends with an alien, Im friends with an alien that's part of a drug cartel?"
"SpongeBob, I am *hurt* dat u wood accuse me of such clusterfuckery!"
"First, my name is Robbie, not SpongeBob, second, clusterfuckery isn't a word, and third, if you're not in a cartel, what are you?"
Derek happily munched down another brownie. "I'm a adventurer! Hope I don't take a arrow 2 da knee, though."
"Okay."
"Jus-jus-just forget about dat, les jus watch da Ghos'busters."
I took another brownie. "I think I can live with that. Maybe I'll bake weed into my next batch and get you super-high."
Derek giggled. "Dat wood be awwwwesome! I'd be like a vegetable!"
I smiled. "Thats 'cause weed *is* a vegetable."
We both descended into hysterical laughter, forgetting we weren't even the same species. | Year: 2538
Planet: SS78-6
Q-ulgarda, was a human named by an Alstogin species, the Alstroditten to be exact. The Alstogin were a collection of similar alien species that remained unknowingly invisible to the human species until they had met during one of mans first deep space travels, due to the Alstogin's lack of knowledge of the type of signals that humans had only used. That was over 200 years ago, now Q-ulgarda was living on Rho, a planet that was named by humans, after the 15 letter or number of some forgotten human language, or something like that, no one really knows or cares these days. The Alstroditten were one of the many branches of species, each with little variations of there biology, and some slightly bigger with there way of life. Really, Alstogin was just a general label the the whole collection of species, kind of like how the word "feline" describes both leopards and tigers.
Q-ulgarda ran a very special type of buisness on SS78-6, although not very unique. You could find one in almost every settlement, especially the bigger ones of almost a million Alstroditten. The one Q sold to was medium, about a 400,000 to 500,000 population. Q's business on the outside looked harmless, just a human curiosity shop, a place for a curious few Alstogin to go to learn about the human species. But secretly, away from the prying eyes of the human equivalent of law enforcement, lay a hidden basement, where Q sold, wait for it, sugar.
Now, to homo sapiens, and most other earth dwelling species, this fine sweet dust is a delicacy, often put in comfort foods and, well pretty much almost everything, Almost. But to the Alstogin, this was a very interesting substance. A very, fun substance. Oh it's extremely harmful to them, it can coat the inside of the stomach and start to slowly dissolve the walls of your insides. Oh, it washes away quickly, the stomach acids quickly take care of that, but not until a couple layers of cells are taken away with it, and damages the cells below those in such a way that they can take longer to grow back cells dissolved by stomach acids. After continued use of not letting your cells take away the old altered ones, in maybe, 5 years tops your a dead man. But 5 years (I'm using the old human time so you can visualize it better. In reality, 5 years on earth is about 10 on SS78-6)? Alstogin don't care about this, they have plenty of time before they have to quit, plus, it's fun. It creates an almost imaginary world, created from memories usually associated with happiness, or the Alstogin equivalent. "A dream land of only my best memories? sign me up!" they usually say, and then are immediately taken to the gravinine pits, basically a rehabilitation center, and then are taken Holitolgoboldin, a mouthful in Q's opinion, A permanent prison.
This was a colder day, about 258 degrees Belitend. or -80 degrees Celsius, or -112 degrees Fahrenheit. Q had his usual suit and mask on, specially heated for his "fragile human body" as the Alstroditten liked to tease, conveniently forgetting that a measly 20 degrees Celsius, or 68 degrees Fahrenheit, would cook them like a chicken in an oven. He stepped out of his heated house and turned the open sign round on his shop next door to his house, then waited and greeted new customers interested in the human world, far from there own, then said goodbye as they turned there back to the store, surprised at how much there was and went to tell their bored mother, who wouldn't really care too much about anything anyone said about humans until she too, came to the shop. It was a ritual among both humans and Alstogin, a much too common one. After all this, was done with, he closed up shop but did not go home, though tried to make it appear as though no one was home in the store.
That day a new customer walked in after closing hours, so Q assumed it must be for sugar business. Whether he had heard about his business from a friend or mother, he didn't care. He looked pretty usual, 3 legs sticking out of a barrel sized but not shaped torso, sticking out horizontally about a foot before going straight down towards the floor in a hoof shaped foot, all of which was thick from fat and fur to feel warm in the frigid climate. His fur was usual too, like a long haired dog, covered his whole body. his head, which rested on a long neck, which also was set on his barrel sized but not shaped torso, which was about as tall as Q's forearm.
"Why are you here?" Q-ulgarda questioned him.
"I'm just here for the scones" he replied. Ah, the age old, and long forgotten by most technique, of a secret response to indicate your real reason for being there.
"Well I don't seem to have any, I have some ingredients though" Q replied, almost mechanically.
Immediately the supposed customer yelled out "Get in here! Quick! We got 'em!" to someone outside.
Well, that was that for Q, seemed he wasn't fit for the sugar business after all, for here came the law enforcement, ready to take him to Holitolgoboldin for the rest of his life, crap. | 2017-08-02T01:07:51 | 2017-08-01T23:27:26 | 72 | 33 |
[WP] Tell me a story that would seem innocent to a child, but terrifying to an adult. | My mommy's clumsy, but that's okay. She's got a friend name George who stays with us and helps her keep her place!
George is always there for her, like the time she fell down the stairs and broke her fee-mur. He took her to see Dr. Byrd to make sure she didn't say a bad word (boo-boos make you cuss I guess). The time she singed her hand on the burner, he told her she was a slow learner. She didn't do that again!
Sometimes I hear mommy and George wrestle around once I go to sleep. Sometimes they play too hard! One time clumsy mommy fell and broke the coffee table. She had a black eye for a week.
My clumsy mommy's gone away, I haven't seen her for a few days. George says he'll be my friend now, he'll help me become a man - wow! Tonight we're going to dig a great big hole and bury some heavy bags full of dirty laundry with grape juice stains.
He says if I work hard and do a good job, he'll take me to see my clumsy mom! | Our house creaks and groans at night. Dad says it's because it's old, and it's settling down after a long day, just like us. But I know it's because of Oliver.
I first met him when I was brushing my teeth. The walls cracked and creaked like they always do. But this time, they also spoke to me in a high, silly voice. "Always remember to floss!" I looked around, but I couldn't find anyone. I told Dad and he asked if I had an imaginary friend.
"If he told you to floss, you should do what he says," he grumbled in his low, growly voice. Dad was always grumpy and tired from work, but I knew he loved me, way deep down inside. Later that night, after he tucked me in, I heard Oliver again.
"Good night! Sleep tight! Don't let the bedbugs bite!" He said, in that same high, silly voice. I looked around and saw a face peeking out from the air vent. It was a fun, cartoony face with big eyes, scratched onto a burlap bag with pink crayon. "Hi! I'm Oliver!" He sounded like how a flamingo might talk.
"Hi Oliver. I'm Tom. Are you real?" I asked. The vents made bong bong bong noises as he shuffled around.
"I'm real! A real-ly good friend!" Oliver said.
"You're funny, Oliver." I laughed.
"Now go to bed, Tom! Good boys need their sleep!" The vents made more bong bong bong noises as he went away.
Oliver made me eat my vegetables while Dad was at work. He helped me with math. And he read me bedtime stories from his vent.
"Oliver, can I please, please, please have a dog?" I asked him one night.
"Tom, there's something important I need to tell you." His voice got a lot less silly. It didn't even sound like him anymore. "I have to go away soon. But you'll be strong. I know you will." And he bong bong bonged back into the vents.
About a week later, some people came to our house in a blue car with lots of flashy lights. They asked where my dad was. I never saw Oliver or my dad again after that. But Dad got me a new puppy dog, so I'm not lonely.
______________________________________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | 2017-08-28T08:41:01 | 2017-08-28T08:30:19 | 254 | 101 |
[WP] Tell me a story that would seem innocent to a child, but terrifying to an adult. | My mommy's clumsy, but that's okay. She's got a friend name George who stays with us and helps her keep her place!
George is always there for her, like the time she fell down the stairs and broke her fee-mur. He took her to see Dr. Byrd to make sure she didn't say a bad word (boo-boos make you cuss I guess). The time she singed her hand on the burner, he told her she was a slow learner. She didn't do that again!
Sometimes I hear mommy and George wrestle around once I go to sleep. Sometimes they play too hard! One time clumsy mommy fell and broke the coffee table. She had a black eye for a week.
My clumsy mommy's gone away, I haven't seen her for a few days. George says he'll be my friend now, he'll help me become a man - wow! Tonight we're going to dig a great big hole and bury some heavy bags full of dirty laundry with grape juice stains.
He says if I work hard and do a good job, he'll take me to see my clumsy mom! | Jerry was having a terrible day. (Sad Jerry picture)
A terrible day after a terrible week! (Even sadder Jerry picture)
But today? Today was the most terrible day of all. (Seriously, the saddest Jerry picture)
On Monday, Miss Haroldson gave him extra homework. (Jerry peeking out from behind dozens of books and stacks of papers, piled on his desk)
On Tuesday, his bike had a flat. (Jerry looking sad with a bike with a flat, while his friends ride off without him)
On Wednesday, Mark tripped him on the playground. (Jerry falling, mulch flying everywhere, all the kids from his class pointing and laughing, Mark looking very mean and evil)
On Thursday, his baby sister wrecked his Legos. (Huge spread of wrecked and pulled apart Legos, like he had some huge city made, with his kid sister happily smashing and tearing)
And today, Friday, the most terrible day of all, he got off on the wrong bus stop. (Jerry alone in the middle of basically nowhere, bus driving off in the distance)
Jerry was mad. And sad. How would he get home? He began to cry. (Jerry crying on curb)
Then, a wonderful thing happened! A nice man came up to help. (Super nice friendly guy in a blue-collar type workers outfit)
"Hey buddy, you okay? You look lost." (Close up of how friendly the guy is. Birds and shit in the background, yellow cast)
"Yes sir, I AM lost!" (Jerry's picture looks comparatively darker amid muted and 'sad' with a blue cast)
"Well, dry those tears, partner. How about you come with me on an adventure? I've got some puppies to deliver and a whole big bag of candy I couldn't possibly eat by myself. And I can drop you off when I'm done!
(Doublepage spread of this really nice white panel van, Jerry with a look of wide eyed amazement on his face, and the van full of puppies in boxes, candy all over, and even a video game system. It's all very magical looking and detailed)
Jerry dried his tears, smiled, and followed the man into his big white van.
(Jerry all happily getting into the side of the van, now in a yellow cast and happy)
Jerry realized that maybe this day wasn't going to be so very terrible after all!
(Picture of the van flying off into the distance, a happy faced Jerry, and some rainbows and sparkles left by the 'wake' of the van as it flies off)
THE END
| 2017-08-28T08:41:01 | 2017-08-28T08:30:57 | 254 | 89 |
[WP] As it turns out, the Avatar is still being reborn to this day. Unfortunately, if the government finds the Avatar, they’re killed before they liberate society. The handful of Benders left are few and far between. And you, an introverted Earthbender, just froze the liquid in your cup of tea. | "Where is the Avatar, Rahm?"
I gestured to the seat in front of me. "Now, now, calm yourself, Kota. Come, sit down, have a cup of tea."
"I'll pass. Now, where are they? We know you're hiding the Avatar!"
I sighed. "Are you sure? It's oolong, it's really quite good. I insist, you must have a cup. Now, do you take cream these days? Sugar?"
"I just said I don't want any of your stupid tea, Rahm."
"Ah, right. Of course. Well, suit yourself." I began to mix the sugar into my cup. "So, how is life? I hear the new government job is going well."
"Quit stalling. Tell us where the Avatar is, and we'll let you live."
I set the tea down on the table, and looked him in the eye. "Kota, I'm afraid that won't be the case."
"What?" Kota gasped as the tea began to freeze in my cup. "You? You're the Avatar?"
"Yes, but I am calling on you, in the name of any friendship we once had. Come, join us, join the resistance. Together, we can-"
I gasped as I saw the shard of metal, poking through my ribcage. As I fell to the ground, I could hear Kota talking into a radio. "Call off the search. We... we got him."
As I felt my blood draining out, I took the rest of the pack of potassium nitrate crystals from my pocket and bent it into the ground as far as I could. "Good luck, Avatar, wherever you are." I whispered to myself. "May this give you the time you need." | "It's all just a bunch of superstition, I say." I heard Carla announce over the lunch table.
The talk of the whole "Avatar" has restarted again and I can't say I blame anyone for it happening. One of the kids in Year 1 had been caught throwing rocks around a bit harder than they should have been able to. People found out she was an Earthbender and suddenly she disappeared for a few days before returning back, acting as though the days she'd been gone had never existed.
"Yes, Carla. Tell us all about it." The groan came from a very bored sounding Michael on the other side of the table. If his voice hadn't dripped with enough sarcasm he already looked like his head was ready to fall off his hands onto the table at the next word.
Carla seemed to not notice.
"There's always loads of stories about amazing acts and feats that people have done that no one could have ever done. Like that one who suddenly invented Metalbending. Like, it had never been done ever in the world then suddenly she could and everything was amazing."
"You mean Toffee?" Another voice, Charles sat next to me. He seemed just as bored as Michael.
"Was that the name? I never remember all those stupid history lessons. Anyway, it was more likely that metal just hadn't been invented back then or whatever. People always want some hero they can look up to, someone who can be all amazing and save the world. And back then there was no science or whatever to believe in, so it was all spirits and bending. So you make some magical spirit person who can do all the bending ever, make them able to change faces so there can be a new hero every generation and bam, instant easy legend."
Carla looked pretty pleased with herself until she looked around the table to see Michael having fallen asleep on the table, Charles just watching her with a blank look and me staring down into my drink.
"Ugh, why do I even bother with you people?" She sighed dramatically, slumping down, crossing her arms and leaning across the table so that she took up over half of it.
"Because you'd never fit in anywhere else?" Charles smirked, ruffling her hair up with a quick motion.
The energy of the table quickly returned, Carla jumping up in anger, starting to chase Charles around the cafeteria with Michael having woken up enough to watch and cheer them on.
I meanwhile just stared further into my cup. Only half of me had ever really been listening.
The little girl that vanished for a few days, she was an Earthbender, like me. Not that I make a big deal out of it. Not much use being a bender these days, you stand out too much and get outcasted pretty quickly if you try to flaunt it.
But they hadn't looked twice when there was that nursery that burned down a couple of months back when some toddler and a candle got too close to each other.
They were looking for an Earthbender for some reason.
The chill that went down my spine flowed down my arms until crystals started to appear around the rim of my cup.
Wait.
No.
...
This was going to be interesting... | 2018-01-21T13:28:32 | 2018-01-21T12:20:10 | 61 | 22 |
[WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk.
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | "Dad?" My eyes are telling me he's there, right in front of me. They are screaming the information at my brain, which has ceased to function properly. I've thought about this moment for so long, played out every scenario in my head like a prayer before bed, but when the moment is finally here: I freeze. I never once pictured it like this.
He looks like hell to be honest. Dirty, unshaven, his clothes in rags. He looks at me, stupidly, eyes slightly glazed like he can't understand what's going on. Finally a glimmer of recognition seems to ripple across his face.
"Kendra?" Horror and shock fill little sentence to the brim. He recoils from me like I'm some sort of diseased animal.
The carton of milk falls from his trembling hands and busts open on the concrete. It splashes up onto my shoes and across my leggs but I barely notice it. I'm too captivated by the carton. There's a face on it, some lost kid, but that's not unusual. It's who the face belongs to that has my stomach crawling up my throat.
I remember that face. I saw it every morning for 2 years as I shoved spoonfuls of sugared cereal into my mouth. I remember the news stories covering it. They found the kid, worse for wear but otherwise unharmed, wandering in a field just after labor day SIXTEEN YEARS AGO. They diddnt need the cartons after that.
So why. Why was the milk soaking through my thin rayon leggings COLD. The carton itself sparkles with condensation and shows no signs of age.
I look at up at my father and my brain begins to process what it had seen all along. I had no trouble recognizing him beneath the mud and the rediculous beard, because beyond that he hasn't changed much. No. He hasn't changed at all. My dad stands in front of me, without showing the slightest sign of the last two decades.
I think I'm going to be sick.
| “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t look him in the eyes, not yet. I bet they were still a horrible, shitty brown, and I bet his eyes were still bloodshot and drained, and his face was still pale and rough. I bet he made this alley his home.
“All these years,” I mumbled quietly. I fiddled with my thumbs. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m sorry, son,” his hoarse voice was followed by a heavy cough and a sniffle. It was dead silent in the alley. Cars flew by out on the street, probably staring at the twenty-three year old man talking to who seemed like a homeless bum. Wondering why anyone would take time out of their day to talk to a scumbag living in garbage. “I wanted to come back.” I stayed silent.
“Mom has a new husband,” I told him. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I looked up at him, and, thankfully, he was staring down at the ground, and I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes yet. His beard grew so much. He was balding, however. His nose was bent, and his lip cut. He still had a birthmark on his left cheek. I remember poking it as a kid, calling it a chocolate chip. “She’s in love.”
“Glad,” he coughed out. I didn’t want to stand here any longer, but I felt like I needed to. This wasn’t what I wanted to see this morning. This isn’t how I expected to meet him again. I hated standing here. I hated being near him, when all this time, it was just me and Mom. And the new guy, to whom I’d just recently gotten accustomed.
“Why did you leave?”
He kept staring at the floor. I stared down too. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and his feet were dirty and his toenails too long. I wanted to vomit.
“Why did you leave?” I repeated. Maybe the bastard was deaf.
“I couldn’t handle it,” he told me.
“You could.”
“I couldn’t,” he enforced. I finally met his eyes. They were horrible, revolting, like they’d seen a war. Like they’d been staring at the dark side of a building for 23 years and hadn’t seen a ray of sunshine or a beam from a flashlight. They seemed surprised and strained and hurt and disappointed, all at the same time. They were looking at me.
“I graduated,” I told him. He looked back down. I continued, hoping to make him feel like shit, even though any amount of shame he felt now would be nothing compared to the decade and a half of me crying, screaming, slamming my head into a wall trying to understand why I wasn’t good enough for another human being to love me. “Honor roll.”
He didn’t say anything. I didn’t want him to say anything.
I followed his line of sight and it led to the cold, hard, concrete ground. I finally acknowledge the carton of milk in his hand. The reason he left. Or, so I thought that was the reason. The excuse as to why he “couldn’t handle” being a father, the excuse as to why he left a six year old child father-less and lost.
He saw my eyes, and held up the half gallon of milk. I stared at him as he coughed into his other hand.
“I got skim,” he raised it higher, chest-level, as if offering for me to hold it. “That’s still your favorite, right?”
It wasn’t.
———
This is my first time posting here. Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. | 2018-03-03T17:42:04 | 2018-03-03T16:47:46 | 58 | 33 |
[WP] Your dog digs in the same hole in your backyard everyday. Each day,the hole is getting deeper. Today, you find out it's for an underground bunker. | i am a pup
i like my guy
temps goin up
dont want to die
i dig a hole
dig it so deep
food from my bowl
food in hole keep
guy does not kno
i do not mind
guy mad at hole
still he so kind
today i am done
hole can fit guy
slep in the sun
put guy inside
show guy the hole
guy v surprise
more food in bowl
pup and guy won't die
guy give me pets
now always in hole
food cannot gets
no food in bowl
i do not mind
guy seems so sad
still is so kind
no longer gets mad
calls me good boi
always more pets
i'll be best boi
i luv my guy
stay safe in hole
no go outside | I leaned over the windowsill and stared at my backyard. Ruffy's hole had grown massive. If I had his same will to do anything, I would probably start by covering his creation. It was ruining the beauty of my dead grass.
I was having my coffee when the bell rang. I opened the door and found Annie, my beautiful neighbor with tear-soaked eyes.
"Heey...don't cry," I said and hugged her. Every opportunity must be seized, they say. "What happened?
She frowned. How red her face was. It suited her, I must admit, the blue of her irises shone much brighter. "You haven't heard the news? Or the chaos outside?"
I rubbed my chin. "Not really. I've heard screams," I said, "but that's an everyday thing. Ruffy is, however, acting strangely."
Annie grabbed me by the arm and took me outside. "There's a bomb aimed at us. It will impact in fifteen minutes," she said as she pushed me toward the hole. I fought to not spill my coffee. "Ruffy is already waiting for us."
"What? Where's Ruffy? How do you know he's waiting for us," I asked, bewildered. When had she befriended Ruffy?
"He barked at me," Annie said and sniffed, "and I followed him. He foresaw everything. That dog."
"He often sits when I tell him to," I said, proudly. "I'm a great teacher."
Annie sighed and gestured for me to jump into the hole. I finished my coffee and obliged. I'll be damned, but I didn't expect such a long fall. Neither did I expect such a perfectly carved bunker, nor Ruffy blocking the underground entrances with my old fridge.
Soon, it was me, Annie and Ruffy, waiting for a bomb to demolish the city. And as Ruffy cried, and we petted him, I saw something in the dog's eyes. A wink.
I scanned the place. There was no coffee machine in here, but I found something else. Her golden ringlets and blue eyes. Ruffy had always wanted a mom.
I smiled. It was my turn not to ruin this. Ruffy had already proven the best wingman a man could ask for.
------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall For more stories!
| 2018-04-27T10:33:46 | 2018-04-27T08:41:03 | 2,062 | 39 |
[WP] After a civil war, the losing side are placed into a simulation where they believe they won. The public in the real world are routinely shown this simulation to see how bad things could've been... but the simulation is starting to look better. | Fighting in the war was a living nightmare, and no matter who you were at the time, you lost something.
We fought for peace, and the ultimate end was that humanity would never commit such vile acts against one another again.
But when the war ended, we had to decide what to do with the vanquished. Peace, we thought, even an artificial one, was the only option.
So we gave them their own peace, in the simulation, so that we could secure our own.
They experienced a whole new war, one in which they struggled but ultimately defeated our forces, and then we watched.
We thought lowly of them, the *enemy*, and were prepared to watch them slaughter the simulated versions of us by the millions once victory was achieved, but they took a path most unexpected.
They created their own simulation for the defeated forces, but it differed from ours in a way that brought everything into question: In their simulation, the war never happened.
Their leader addressed the new nation, and at the same time unknowingly addressed us, "We will let these people live in a reality we failed to achieve, a reality in which our differences did not bring us to the atrocities that will haunt us forever. They will live in a world in which the ultimate end was achieved: *Peace*..."
/r/BeagleTales
| James peered into the simulation for his turn to view the 'Loser world' - A simulation created for viewing the what the losers of the great civil war would've done if they had won. At the end of the war james was barely a toddler and knew nothing of what was happening, only that his father had never returned, but now he was 20 and about to see the simulation for the first time.
When he saw the other world he was livid, he saw a paradise filled with large skyscrapers and sprawling estates, where everyone was rich and even a lowly shopkeeper made more money an hour than he did a year, this was then world his father died to prevent, he felt a tear drip down his cheek.
James spent a long time exploring the world, using the brief time he had he visited the great museums of the world and admired the art pieces with each beautiful painting making him more jealous of the losers, until he saw one specific painting, of a man holding a pick and digging with the title 'The great comedy' this picture confused james but he continued on his way, "How could a society make fun of those who provide the rescources required form them to function?" He figured they must have robots to mine for them and that the idea of the painting being comedy was laughing at gow primitive they used to be.
A few hours later James' time was up and he left the simulation, he was approachrd by the clerk.
"How was it?" he asked.
"It was beautiful" replied James. "Their world is so much better than ours! Even the lowest members of society are rich beyond out wildest dreams! My father died fighting against paradise!" he screamed after a while James calmed "I just don't understand what the war was about." he said
"Is that what you saw? You mustn't have seen thr factotyies then." answered the clerk.
"what factories?" asked James, and the clerk motioned to james to sit back down.
After a long time they arrive at a large glass dome filled with smog. "This is the factory." states the clerk "Take a look around." And so james began to explore and everything he saw was horrible, people were being worked to death in horrible conditions, living quarters were simply dirt floors where people would lie down, anyone who was sick was just killed and bodies were piled into mass graves. "You asked what the war was about? This is it, slavery, and this is only one of thousands of factories throughout the world" it was then James realised that no matter how rich he could've been, none of it was worth this amount of suffering, this amount of pain, for this many other people.
Note: First time posting here, please be gentle. :) | 2018-09-15T11:52:52 | 2018-09-15T11:17:58 | 79 | 23 |
[WP] Your daughter brings over her boyfriend for dinner for the first time. The kid seems nice, but then, while eating, he pokes a baked potato on his plate and says "This looks very interesting. What is this? A 'potato'? Oh interesting. Never heard of a potato, looks pretty good." | I stopped, spoon midway to my mouth, looked at Jenny's face that's clearly warning me off, and lowered the spoon.
"Well I'm glad you're learning new things while you're with our Jenny." I gave my best smile, all teeth.
"Oh yes sir. Jenny is teaching me all kinds of new things. She's amazing!"
I had to remember to keep smiling. Just. keep. SMILING! "And what other new things have you experience?"
"DAD!" Jenny cried, Her face was so red that I just knew I hit a nerve. Mother fu-
"Oh the other day we stopped by something called a drive through. Didn't even have to leave the vehicle to get our nourishment!"
I eyed him suspiciously. "And what else?"
He had to think that over and I quieted Jenny's outburst with one very, very, VERY angry glare.
"Well... She taught me a few interesting words. Swearing isn't in the curriculum you know."
That settled it. Only one person would talk like that. "Tell me, when did you hatch exactly?"
"Three days back sir. I assure you I completed my pre-hatching curriculum before that though."
I knew it. I just knew it! She got another under-aged hatchling to imprint on her. AGAIN!
"Dad I can explain!"
I banged the table with my tentacle. "Enough! Jenny go to your room. You are too young to start your own colony and he doesn't know better. You can start looking when you've reach egg laying age and not a day earlier. GO!" | Kevin
---
Kevin was fourteen and so tall it looked painful. He hadn't filled out, yet, so he seemed to be all bones. His face, despite the sharp angles, was earnest, handsome, and terrified. He was nervous, mousy, if you can use that to describe someone nearly six feet tall.
Serena had always been attracted to strange men, people who looked at the world with fractured eyes. The last boy she brought home dressed in yellow and called himself D-9. He was a rapper, but all his songs were about anime and the girls he would never meet.
Kevin seemed normal, despite the way his head pivoted like a jerky horse. He seemed to be waiting for something to shatter. I think, deep down, he expected me to yell at him. To send him to bed without supper. To be cruel.
When Miranda welcomed him, he remained stiff in the embrace. I made a noise in the back of my throat and Miranda moved away. Kevin sat on the couch and talked about school, always asking if he could help set the table or if he was talking too much.
Serena took his hand and told him, "You're fine, *babe*, absolutely fine."
It was hard to see my daughter like that, being adult and motherly to this vulture of a child. Serena, despite being fifteen, had always had her mother's kind eyes. Kevin seemed trapped in a world he didn't understand, like Tom Hanks in that one movie... Junior?
There was something very baby horse about Kevin. He was teetering through the world like he was going to fall to pieces at any moment. I liked the kid, despite that, or *because of* that.
He was polite and listened with bright eyes. He was smart but seemed unable to understand that he was. He would end every sentence with "...yeah, I think."
Miranda was the first person to pick up on the truth. I thought Kevin was a little uncertain, but I had been raised by two complete parents. Miranda had the sort of puzzle parents that show up drunk and think buying you a horse solves the beatings.
When Kevin looked down at his plate and said, "What is this?" I laughed. I thought it was funny.
"Miranda isn't the best cook," I said.
"No. What *is* this?" he said. "I have never seen this before."
He said it politely as if he was trying to ask about our culture.
"It's a potato," Serena said. It was gentle.
I just gazed at him. I opened my mouth but Miranda kicked me in the leg. She then smiled, so softly, it might have been missed. It was her baby smile, the "this is my new project" smile.
I knew then I would be seeing a lot of Kevin around. At least until he was fattened up.
Which, seeing him devour four plates, might take longer than I thought.
| 2018-09-22T10:05:09 | 2018-09-22T09:16:26 | 2,964 | 376 |
[WP] It was an accident. He was jogging late at night, you glanced at a text while driving. You panic, dump the body in a nearby lake, go home and try to forget. You venture out for some much needed coffee, only to stop in shock. The barista is the jogger and he recognizes you. | I stumbled back in pure awe. Mouth ajar and everything, as my cash fell onto the ground. My skin went ghost white as the barista looked me up and down, then let out a slight sigh through his nostrils. I saw him quickly glance to the phone, then fixed his gaze on me.
"Can I help you, sir?" He'd ask. I'd start stumbling on my words. "O-One h-hot coffee...P-please." I managed to say, sweating. He tapped it into the register as I hopped down and grabbed my change. As I got up to hand it to him, I saw him put cash in the register, then look at me.
"You look stressed. Take a seat and I'll bring you your coffee. On the house." He said. I took a moment to collect half of myself before nodding. I was getting served by a zombie for free. Never thought I would say that sentence and actually mean it.
I went over to a table and took a seat, getting a handkerchief out of my pocket and wiping my brow. What would I say to someone that I killed? Just then, a tray was set in front of me. A coffee, some sugars, a hot chocolate and two brownies. The man sat next to me and put his hand on my shoulder.
"You killed me." He said. I was scared pantsless. "I want you to answer a few questions for me. If you don't...I'll call the police." He continued. I nodded, sweating a bit more and about to tear up. He grabbed a napkin and dried my forehead.
"First question. Did you mean it...?" He asked me. I shook my head. "No...I didn't. I was stupid and looked at my phone. I had gotten a text." I explained.
"Now I have another question. Why? Why did you look at your phone?" He asked. I sighed. "It was my doctor. Something happened to my brother and he's in hospital. We're great friends and I wanted the doctors to keep me updated." I explained. I felt a bit calmer now. He looked a bit sorry for me.
"Next question. Do you regret it? Would you go back to that moment and change it...?" He asked. At that point, I broke down. "Yes...I-I-I would...I don't wanna be a c-criminal..." I said, crying my eyes out. He dried my tears.
"...Final question. Do you need a hug?" He asked. At that moment I looked up at him and immediately hugged him. He wrapped his arms around me and patted my back. "I'll be brutally honest with you. This isn't the first time I died." He said, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of 4 lines across his arm like a ladder. "Apparently, everyone's really clumsy. I died from a construction accident, a night out gone wrong, an elevator breaking and...a car accident." He said before taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "I tell ya...It isn't my time to go. I still got objectives to do, a family to care about. Apparently Heaven's Receptionist is a real softie. I die one more time, I get a free coffee mug!" He continued before chuckling.
I was starting to feel better. "So...You're not angry or annoyed at me? You're not going to call the police?" I asked. He shook his head.
"You were preoccupied with your brother. I don't blame you. We gotta care for our families. I can tell ya, though...When you're me, dieing then reviving the next day is like getting drunk. You wake up with a massive hangover." He explained. "No hard feelings?" He asked.
"...Yeah. No hard feelings. You got a name, man...?" I'd ask. He smirked. "Angus. Angus McCloud." He said. I introduced myself and we shook hands.
We finished our drink and snacks and I bid him farewell.
That was 3 years ago and we're still friends. I treat him to dinner occasionally and he was the best man at my wedding. He's considered a family friend now. We invite him over every Christmas and he has the free Heaven Mug every time he's over.
Last new years, I pulled him aside and we had some hot chocolate while watching the countdown, having a good discussion. I mentioned that my brother was healthy and living in Nevada with some virtual wife named Ashlyn. He chuckled, but seemed a bit down. That's when he dropped the bomb.
"...I don't have any objectives any more...The next time I die, it'll be for good." He said. I was taken aback. He gave me his Heaven Mug, placing it on my lap. "Keep it. And remember me. I may not be alive much longer..." He continued. And so, we watched the countdown in silence.
He died in the next month from natural causes. Since then, I switched from coffee to hot chocolate. Speaking of which...
...I need one right now. | I stared at him, he stared back. He seemed to almost smile. Then he smiled and he laughed and for the longest time I felt more lost than I'd ever been in my life. He stopped laughing and chuckled a bit before he said "Surprise!" and did the jazz hands thing.
"Nobody ever expects the Spanish Armada, oh wait.. in qui.. wait.. something like that anyway. So, here you are, wonderful you who killed me. You're a nasty sort aren't you? Dragged my bleeding and dismembered body into that lake, then casually drove away and no doubt spent all that time.. yup.. I can see it on your hands, you gave those puppies a good old *scrub* didn't you? Hah! This is fantastic! Look at you, you're like a new man!"
I just stood there and didn't know what to reply. How... how did he .. how? He put down a cup on the counter and motioned to it
"Oh cheer up son, here's a cup of tea to soothe your aching soul. No worries, I'm quite fine.. heheh, better than fine even!"
And he did this little merry dance as his smile impossibly grew wider. I looked down at the tea cup which for some absurd reason seemed to be the most utterly delicious thing ever.
"OK, uh, I think I need to sit down" I said, my head spinning. This all felt so surreal. Being offered a cup of tea, by a barista in a coffee shop. Who'd I'd ran down mere hours ago. Suddenly my stomach groaned loudly.
"Hehe, sure old boy, have yourself a nice sit down in that booth over there, I'll go grab you the most *delicious* piece of steak you've ever sunk your chompers into! Ho-ho!" and off he went into the kitchen.
I felt muted as I sat down in a booth and took a sip from the tea cup. It really was as delicious as I'd imagined. It was the best cup of tea I'd ever tasted in my life. I looked up and out he sort of burst from the doors of the kitchen with a steak that made my mouth water.
"Ah, esteemed guest, here you go! The best steak this side of G--- Grant City!" he said and for a second I could see his smile kind of freeze. Very strange. But I still looked down at the impossibly delicious looking steak, it was amazing.
"Oh come now man! Eat up! Be health and merry! Killing people really does make you need a good solid meal you know? Heck, I've killed millons before and boy
\*here he lowered his voice to a lower almost menacing tone\*
"does that make you ever so hungry and.. you know... you might need a companion or two afterwards..."
"But come on! That steaks getting cold and we've got places to be don't we?"
Feeling an odd mix of feelings that this was somehow .. familiar, I took a bite and yes, it was like the best flavor I'd ever had in my mouth.
"This.. this is just fantastic. Thank you." I mumbled out through bites of the steak that just seemed to melt on my tongue. I quickly wolfed it down under the happy glances of my strange benefactor. I finally ate the last piece and sat back, feeling really full. But oddly enough I was still hungry.
He took notice and said "So, sonny boy.. this might be a very strange question, but have you been to any interesting places lately?"
"Nooo... I don't think so.." I replied with an uncertain sense of dread. It was like I knew where this was going. And then something in my mind came loose.
"Wait... you want to ask me about caves don't you? Why do I know that?"
"Yes YES!" the man said and grinned, he adjusted his tie and I noticed his hand went to almost pat a space right next to it on his chest. I *knew* this meant something. But what?
"You've definitely been to a cave recently haven't you? Do you remember where it was? Can you tell me? If you do, I promise I'll completely change your world!"
He giggled to himself a bit and I felt like punching him. I didn't know why, but I just wanted to. Then I realized I'd punched him many times over. In fact, I knew I NEEDED to punch him right then and there.
As my hand connected with his jaw, his face transformed, it became pale and rougher, his hair turned green and I gripped his throat and fought my way up.
"JOKER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?"
I tore through the restraints of the gurney he'd secured me too and ripped out the IV pumping god knows what chemicals into my system. The Joker tore away from me and scampered away laughing to himself.
As I got up and cleared the last of the fog in my head I knew that I wasn't going to let him get away with this time.
"You'll never fool me Joker, that was a low trick even for you. But you slipped up, like you always do."
"Ohohohohahahahhahaaha!" came from the shadows around me. "But you were so close Bats! One more steak or maybe even a peach pie would have totally made you want to spill every little secret that you have! But you win this round.. but I'll be baaaaaaack!" and with a giggle that faded into the darkness, I knew he was gone. Again.
I sat down heavily on the gurney again and called Alfred.
"Sir? Are you alright Sir? Me and Robin have been worried sick, you've been gone for days!"
"The Joker dosed me with some kind of drug, I'm going to need to go through decon when I get back home again. I'm fine now, but knowing him, there could be more surprises in store."
"I'm relieved Sir. We'll await you home at the manor."
"Great, and Alfred"
"Yes master?"
"Please prepare a big dinner, I'm really starved."
"Right away Sir."
And with that, I exited the building and sat down in the Batmobile which bore the tell-tale marks of Jokers thugs. As it started and I turned down the street, one of it's wheels rattling, I thought to myself "Yep, that's one of those nights alright." | 2018-09-23T05:55:27 | 2018-09-23T05:51:26 | 96 | 14 |
[WP] You lose a dare at an airport and are forced to ask an employee for a ticket to the farthest destination. To your surprise, they quietly nod and give you a single ticket with letters you don't recognize.
EDIT: Holy *crap* this blew up. I want to thank everyone for their stories and input, and also would like to shout out the one dude who took their time to give me Reddit silver. Thanks for my first award! | AT25.
It was a very strange airport code. I had never seen a 4 digit airport code before and certainly not one with numbers. I turned back to the desk attendant confused.
"Umm which country is this airport in again?"
"None of them," she answered as though it should have been obvious. "And don't forget your jacket. It'll be cold this time of year." She added almost as an afterthought. This had originally been a dare, but now I was curious. Just where was this ticket going to take me?
The flight departed from Anchorage at 11 AM. I was the only passenger on the flight and the plane was very old. It was some sort of 4 engine propeller plane. It was extremely cold in the plane and the only refreshments were a couple of sandwiches and some water bottles. After about 20 hours we stopped at a small airfield. The pilot said that he needed to refuel the plane or something like that.
We were soon back in the air. It was unbelievably boring. The only other passenger was a pallet of cargo. The writing on the pallet was in Japanese, so I had no idea where we were going.
After another 20 hours we finally landed. It had been almost two days since I left Anchorage.
"We've now arrive in Syowa, Antarctica. I hope you enjoyed our 11,850 mile trip."
I had originally planned on going to Florida. I was so fucked. | I’ll take one ticket to the farthest place possible, I remember asking the quiet woman at the flight counter. It was only meant to be a joke, but instead of laughing it off, she typed into her computer for a moment and then printed out a boarding pass. She handed the white ticket to me, and although I didn’t know what to say, I took it from her hands.
I remember the ticket felt strange to the touch, like it was made from some sort of feathery paper. My wife and I often went on trips abroad, and I served a couple tours overseas when I was in the military, but none of the boarding passes felt quite like this one. I looked at the ticket itself, but couldn’t really make out the text, like the ink was squirming and morphing, trying to escape the paper.
I remember I somehow made my way through the labyrinthine airport, through security, the terminal, and the bright, still runway. I don’t think I considered much during the journey, as the only thing my eyes fixated on was the strange boarding pass. There was something wrong with it, and my thumb continued to run across its surface.
I remember I was the only one in the flight, but for some reason I thought nothing of it. It wasn’t important, I thought, since this flight was created only for me. I sat down and got comfortable. My index finger drew circles around the peculiar boarding pass.
I remember the flight soared far above the clouds, and I couldn’t stop thinking about my wife and our unborn child. I was so scared to think of having a child in our life, but finally I was starting to accept the possibility, and I wondered what to name him if he was a boy. I tried bending the boarding pass between my middle and ring fingers.
I remember how I was suddenly hit by apprehension at some point in the flight, wondering where I was going and when I would be able to come back. I cried and cried, and begged the flight attendants to land the flight, but they never looked me in the eyes. I crumpled up the boarding pass.
I remember thinking back to all the mistakes I made before this moment. The people I betrayed and the things I abandoned. Was it ever possible to take back the things I threw away. I once again tried to read the boarding pass.
I remember considering suicide in the airplane cabin. Where would I go if I died up here. Would I be able to go back? I tore the corner off the boarding pass.
I remember wondering how old my child was these days. Do you think they found happiness? Do you think they remained faithful to their loved ones. I really hope they do. I straightened out the tattered boarding pass.
I think about all of this every now and then as I fiddle with the strange piece of paper in my hands. All I can hear now and all I will be able to hear is the hum of the engine and the vast silence of the skies. | 2019-03-04T22:30:27 | 2019-03-04T22:27:07 | 77 | 39 |
[WP] Melting ice in Antarctica reveals a ruined city. Days later, tall, long-headed humans emerge from the wreckage repeating the same phrase over and over. You, the world's leading linguist have just decoded the message. It's horrifying. | The first odd thing about the discovery was the state of the 'ruins'.
A dome of ice had been protecting the city from the elements and great care was taken during excavation not to damage anything but when the first drone returned with video it revealed a shocking state of filth.
No structural damage or evidence of battle, no disrepair that would be expected of an abandoned civilization but instead filth and detritus lined the streets.
Futher drones were sent to map the city and caused quite a shock when a pale shambling humanoid briefly emerged from one of the buildings to toss something into the street.
Long thin limbs and black eyes set deep in a extended forehead sat atop a potbellied torso.
It saw the drone and stopped, spending several minutes observing the drone back before looking straight into the camera.
"Hadrf binfst" it voiced with something not quite human enough to be a smile and an odd gesture.
The world's best linguist were immediately set to work trying to figure out what it meant, and when futher interactions with more of the same creatures consistantly included the same two words everyone became desperate to know what they meant. It was a great effort but when the sentence was eventually translated the researchers let out a groan of horror.
The message ment "Send nudes" | I straightened my tie in the bedroom mirror as I listened anxiously to the news on the television. It had been 2 weeks since the Great Melt had unearthed the ruins of Remulak. The media had been a firestorm of speculation and fear-mongering over the 2 strange humanoids that had emerged shortly after the thaw. One male and one female had emerged, and all attempts at communication so far had been failures.
With elongated skulls, these creatures appeared more or less Human, and their demeanor seemed inquisitive and non-threatening.
I was called in by the New Earth Government for my services as a linguist. The top liguist in the world, to be precise. These humanoids seemed to be trying to communicate, but they spoke a strange mix of English words and their own language. When probed with questions, they just kept repeating the same phrase.
Snarfle the Garthok.
Snarfle the Garthok.
After 1 week of exhaustive research, and in-person interactions with the humanoids, I began to understand. Their body cues clued me in that this was not a good thing. I decided to take a shuttle the ruins of Remulak for clues.
It didn't take long. Among the old ruined buildings of Remulak there was what looked like a colosseum. I ventured in through a fissure in one of the walls. As I made my way down a main hall, I came upon a chamber with bars across an opening on the far wall. Looking up, I suddenly came to realize I had found my answer.
Painted in red on the ceiling was the word GARTHOK.
Next to that was an image of a fearsome six-limbed giant. This taloned, tusked, and single horned beast was holding a long-skulled humanoid over its head, and appeared to be tearing it in half!
A chill ran down my spine as I became suddenly aware of the sensation of being watched. I peered at the chamber on the far wall, thinking I could hear something coming from it...
Suddenly, a creature that looked like the one in the painting lunged at the bars! I screamed and fell backwards, bumping into a button in the wall before running out of there.
That button must have activated an intercom of some kind because as I ran back to my shuttle, I could hear the creature's roars being overshadowed by the 1981 Soft Cell hit "Tainted Love".
We still haven't pieced together everything, but the military went in and neutralized the Garthok. The humanoids are quite friendly. The male got a job as a taxi driver, and he and the female are expecting a baby girl soon.
Let's Just hope a mothership doesn't show up. | 2019-07-03T20:27:48 | 2019-07-03T19:34:17 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] Back in middle school you helped the meanest, toughest kid in school out of a jam. He swore that he would repay the favor one day - just give him a call and he'd be there. Twenty years later you are in a much bigger jam and out of options. You pick up the phone. | “Is this Jerry?” I asked, my heart still pounding from the chase.
“Yeah, who the hell is this?” Jerry said. He still sounded like the mean prick he was back at Haven High.
“This is Bill...” I said. Ugh, this is so stupid, he’s not going to remember me. Plus, there’s no way he’s going to keep some old promise he made to someone he hasn’t spoken to in 20 years.
“I’m prepared to fulfill my end of our deal, Bill. What is it you need?”
I couldn’t believe what I just heard. I almost laughed, honestly. Why did he say it so formally, and why did he say it like he’s been somehow been expecting this call all these years?
“Uh,” I stammered. “I didn’t actually expect you to remember me.”
“Look, Bill,” Jerry said sternly. “You didn’t call to catch up. You’re in a bind, I’m here to help. Just spit it out.”
Man, Jerry really never managed to stop being a dick... Though his rude demeanor did make me asking for this favor far more simple.
“Alright, I’ll cut to the chase. I got in over my head with Ricky Hanzo, and I’m sort of on the run.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. I wondered what could he be thinking, or better yet, what could I honestly expect my old high school bully to do about this.
“You really screwed the pooch,” Jerry said, no hint of humor in his voice. He let out a quick sigh. “I’ll handle it. Just stay by the phone.”
He’ll handle it? Stay by the phone?
“Jerry, c’mon man. I don’t even know why I’m calling you, but if you can’t help just say so and I’ll figure it out.” I said.
“You called me cause you’ve colossally fucked up, and you’re so desperate you called a twenty year old number on a pay phone hoping against all odds I’d pick up. Shut up, stop panicking, and stay by the phone.”
The line went dead.
I felt like, even with the past two days, this was the most surreal moment of all of it. I’ve walked into my apartment to find my fiancé with a bullet hole in her head, my parents’ house burned to the ground, and half of a town I’ve never been in looking for me; and yet it was this phone call with the all-to-sure voice of Jerry that seemed the most insane.
Truth be told I don’t know how Jerry even knows who Ricky Hanzo is, I mean yeah he’s a famous underground figure but how would Jerry know about him? And even if he did know of the name, what could he possibly be doing to help me in this situation?
I mean honestly, I need to get the hell out of here and waiting by a pay phone for some guy who can’t do a thing for me seems too insane even fo-
*ring*
*ring*
It couldn’t actually be Jerry, right?
*ring*
My hand reached for the phone shakily, and when I finally grasped the cold handle I slowly brought it to my ear. For a moment I expected to hear the Devil on the other end of the line.
“H-hello?”
“I don’t know how you know that man,” a strange but familiar voice spoke. “Guess it doesn’t matter, but I’ve called off your debt. Sorry for your fiancé, and I’ll be sending you reimbursement cash for the house I had burned down. Also, he wanted me to tell you, the twenty year old debt has been paid in full. Also, he wanted me to tell you the next time he see’s you, he’s going to show you his new Atomic Wedgie technique he’s been working on since Haven, whatever that means.”
*click*
What in the world just happened? As I recalled the phone conversation I just had, the voice became clear. That was Hanzo... And I think he just said I’m off the hook..?
That couldn’t be possible though, could it? I kept recalling the conversation over and over in my head as I held the handle of the payphone, the ominous dead tone playing in the background.
“CALAMITY WEDGIE!” A voice screamed from behind me before I felt my feet leave the ground.
The pain that followed as I felt my testicles smash against fabric while simultaneously my butthole being torn asunder by the very same fabric was nigh indescribable.
I looked around desperately through tear-filled eyes for my attacker. I couldn’t make out his blurry face.
“Dude, I’ve missed you,” Jerry’s voice said joyously. “So glad you called me, you little bitch. Let’s go grab a beer! We have so much to catch up on!” | I stood over the body and watched the blood spill out over the badly-patched linoleum, forming little torn-plastic tidepools of congealing red and sparking green.
*Nanobots are malfunctioning as part of a secondary cascade following the main hack,* I thought, the nanodoc part of my brain rambling gamely on while the rest of my consciousness contemplated the taking of a human life from a wholly uncomfortable distance of right-here-right-after. My fingers did a subtle little dance around the hand-cannon grip, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the heavy instrument of death that wouldn't remind me too much of the tight way my hand had curled round it while I pulled the trigger.
*Bang.*
Only that word was wholly insufficient for the real sound. I know that sounds dramatic, but it's true. I have dampers built-in to my ears, but the huge staccato roar of the weapon still made me flinch, open my mouth wide to mitigate the damage to the delicate organic inner parts I no longer possessed. Holy Christ it was loud.
*I'm in some real trouble here, I may be beyond just trouble.*
He hadn't given me any choice. He hadn't told me about the additional adrenal synthesis lining, probably because he knew I wouldn't have operated, if he had. If he had told me. If I had known and not taken his money and gone through with it and the spike hadn't happened, breaking his restraints one by one and lunging, had to do it before he broke the last one, didn't have any choice.
I felt the run of my thoughts start to become something like a stampede, heavy and driving in a hundred directions, and I clamped down as best I could.
*Stop it stop it stop it just* think. Damn you, think.
Okay. Okay. I could check his phone while his body was still cooling and the biometrics might match up. The temperature difference would be...no, no, I'd have to re-hack his blood-bots, get the temperature enough, there was probably just enough juice left...
I scrambled, grateful to have a task to hang on to, focus on, something that pointed toward hope instead of death everywhere coming who-knows-when but still certain. Hand-cannon back down on the table, still within reach. Re-interface with the chair. This can be done, this is a thing you know how to do.
*There. Got it.*
I let his eyelid droop and his hand drop away from the device, though I kept it close to the magnetic field I was forcing his corpse to continue generating.
*Nothing on his schedule. How reliant was he on that, though, really? No missed calls or messages. Scroll, scroll...okay. God, I may be...he told them he was going to take some time to rest afterward. I may have time.*
There were people I could call, people who had a vested interest in keeping my little clinic operational, but they were all part of the same world as the corpse now propped up in my operating chair. I couldn't have them know, that kind of knowledge had value and nothing of value went untraded, now in these circles.
*Henry Jameson.*
No, no, man, no. We were kids back then. Way he was, I kind of doubted he even remembered.
Only that was a lie. We hadn't been friends, but that debt had hung in the air every time we'd run into each other, until I went to medical school and he went to do whatever he was doing now and financial markets went batshit and the Insurance Wars and all the rest and here I was, trying to scrape by in an underworld clinic with a mountain of debt and a hand-cannon on the table.
*He still remembers. Of course he does.*
We'd been standing over a body then too, only this one was still alive, just laughing and slurring words. He'd looked at me, pleading. I hadn't seen that look in his eyes before. I'd seen rage and aggression, mostly toward other kids though never me, and I'd seen defiance, generally toward teachers or, on one memorable occasion, the school rent-a-cop. But this, well, maybe his father saw it sometimes, though I hadn't known about that until he'd spoken.
"Come on, Kerry," he said. "Come on, girl, please. I don't know why he decided to wander into the girl's bathroom, but you gotta help me. If they catch this...my father...look, I don't like talking about him, but he'll..." his voice dropped a level, but it rose too, no longer the proto-adult dropping fast and hard into a baritone, but regressing to the high piping of a frightened little boy half-fallen onto a kitchen floor. "He'll fucking kill me, I know he will."
I took a deep breath, looking around. No one. It was the middle of class. God only knew how much time there'd be before someone else came through the door with a hall pass. "What did you give him, James?" I asked. My own voice sounded surprisingly gentle to me. I thought there'd be more anger, more outrage at being dragged into his bullshit, but no. I guess I could still hear that terrified little boy, see him even, sprawled there. Like that time with my cousin, before his parents had split.
"Just the regular stuff!" he said, and there really was no room for lies with, in with all the terror. "He took a triple dose, the stupid asshole! It's just fucking Neo-Jane, pot with a little gene-kick, you know. He's not in any danger, it's not hurting him, he's just...fucking out of it in the girl's bathroom, and on this kind of high he'll tell anyone anything. Like who gave it to him."
I had already decided, even though I don't remember doing it.
"Grab his arms, that's the heavier half of him," I said. I reached down and grabbed the rangy boy's ankles. He laughed and made a few weak attempts to kick out at me.
"Knock it off," I hissed. "We're gonna get you somewhere safe."
We barely made it around the corner of the hallway when I heard someone headed toward the bathroom door. I didn't dare look.
<continued below> | 2019-07-08T13:22:09 | 2019-07-08T11:37:26 | 2,034 | 430 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | Jeeeeeesus, check out that pathetic 'Mario' on the other side of the road. Running, jumping, and 'Wa-hoooo-ing' like a madman as he makes his way down the street... what an amateur.
I don't mean to brag, it's just that I kinda lucked out when the super power lottery was being handed out. By my count there are a couple hundred of us who received our powers from the last video game we'd all played, but I was a bit of a hobbyist modder, and as a result, my game character was a tad... overpowered at the time I was granted all his powers. God mode, all weapons, unlimited ammo and many more. You name it, I probably had the power in my arsenal.
I'm a bit of a bounty hunter in this new world full of video game powered heroes. People call me when one of my brethren get out of hand and the cops can't do jack shit to stop them. Right now I'm on a call to detain an 'incredibly annoying blue hedgehog', which I'm *not* exactly looking forward to, but a gig is a gig. The warehouse he'd been spotted at is just around this next corner and then I'll-- Oh crap... there's that Knight Solaire wannabe walking right towards me, and it's too late to change direction. *Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact...*
"Praise the sun, good sir!" I bellowed, trying my best to stay on his good side.
"Fuck off," his muffled, echoing voice muttered as he passed by me without breaking his stride.
That was about par for the course for how those interactions typically went for me. In fairness, the folks playing Dark Souls at the time of the event kind of got the short end of the stick. Their 'powers' include being incredibly somber and moody, invulnerability for a split second while rolling, and the 'gift' of being transformed into an undead husk of a human being when they die. I was there the first time one of them found a bonfire on the beach, but when they realized couldn't kindle it or restore their humanity no matter how hard they tried, they were *extremely* pissed. I guess if I were cursed to live for eternity as a grotesque creature that looked like a raisin that had been left out in the sun 200 years, I might be a little pissed as well.
As I entered the warehouse, my worst fears were confirmed. A blue blur shot past me, shouting about how 'rad' he was, and knocking me over in the process. A life sized Sonic the Hedgehog reject stood over me wagging a finger at me as a grin crossed his distressingly human face.
To be clear, you don't HAVE to dress up like the character you received your powers from, this goober just apparently *really* wanted to dress up as Sonic. And let me tell ya, you think the CGI movie Sonic was an atrocity? Imagine the horrors I'm seeing as this middle aged, obese man sprints around the warehouse completely nude aside from oodles of blue fur poorly glued to his body. The fur did *not* leave enough to the imagination, gonna need some serious eye bleach after this is over, that's all I'm saying.
"You're too late, I'm outta here pal! Gotta go fast!" he shouted as he 'wound up' his legs and was off like a shot.
"Okay," I shrugged, as I suddenly moved at light speed and caught up with him in an instant.
"Goddamn speed hacker!" he shouted back at me as he took a hard turn to try and throw me off.
Growing tired of chasing him, I surveyed my bevy of hundreds of fully loaded weapons, selected a concussion grenade launcher, aimed, fired and... missed him by a mile. Yeah, no aimbots for me... even I had to draw the line somewhere, I *do* have my personal moral code to follow, but sadly that code was coming back to bite me at the moment. As I missed, 'Sonic' slipped through the door, slamming it shut and locking it up tight behind him.
"You're tooooo slow, dude!" he taunted me poorly through the window.
Thoroughly annoyed at him by this point, I activated the last of my major powers, slipped through the wall, and tackled the blue freak to the ground without warning.
"What the heck?!" he protested.
"No clip," I growled into his ear as I tied up his hands and feet. One more degenerate off the streets, but I can't help feeling there had to be far worse 'heroes' and 'villains' out there. I mean, odds are that *somebody* had to have been playing Mortal Kombat just before the powers got handed out, didn't they?
___
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to explore more of my stories (Dudes covered in blue hedgehog hair may be denied entry, but otherwise, all are welcome!) | So here’s the sitch: I totally do play video games. And no, I’m not one of those r/notliketheothergirls who insists I’m the only girl who games, or that I should receive all the sexual admiration for it. I’ve dabbled in just about everything - FPS, MMORPG, VR, PC, console, mobile, puzzles, survival, capture/collect, simulator, zombie, satire, first- second- and third-person open-world, linear, racing. Club Penguin. Any genre you name, I’ve probably tried it. Not any game, but any genre.
So sue me if I’m partial to pastoral games. As if you never spent hours of your time creating the perfect face or the perfect house or the perfect life for some imaginary person. It’s addicting to be able to control just about every aspect, especially if you tweak the settings and gameplay options so you can reverse any negative unforeseen happenings that would bring chaos to your perfect little world.
The thing is, when the Catalyst happened, I wasn’t just playing one game. I actually had two computers - my laptop and my old family desktop - running two different games. I know this sounds silly, but I really wanted to continue the epic saga I’d begun in The Sims 2 when I was in high school, now that I had finally downloaded The Sims 4. I skipped 3 because the drastic change in gameplay had been too much for me at the time. But after watching countless YouTubers take a crack at it, I was finally ready to give it another chance. Just, not without my OG family.
Upfront, I don’t mod. I don’t know how, and frankly I’m scared to try. The last time I messed with the source code on anything, I ended up destroying my computer. So, no mods for me. It’s cool for other people to, and I’ll admit I laugh every time cabbages rain from the sky as Thomas the Tank Engine careens toward Solitude. But I’m afraid if I touch it, I’ll break it. And then my husband will break me (not really; he’s very kind).
Now, I may not mod, but I also haven’t played Sims 2 without cheats enabled since I first installed the game. I don’t really know the cheat codes for Sims 4, yet, but I’m content to play it on vanilla for now. I mean, I was. I kinda haven’t touched it since that night.
When everybody else started getting their powers, I was convinced I had been skipped over. I mean, what kind of powers do Sims have, anyway? My husband, bless him, had been playing Mass Effect: Andromeda. Now he can interface with his own personal AI, and has a lot of cool abilities with electronics and the like. It certainly helped get us out of our financial situation. That is, until I discovered what had been done to me.
I don’t know how to explain to you exactly how unsettling it is to be sitting on a toilet when suddenly *POOF* confetti erupts around you. I definitely didn’t fall off the seat, but only because of the cramped space around the pot. I don’t know if I thought it was the ceiling collapsing, or that I was hallucinating, but it didn’t take more than a couple days to realize I was pregnant. A few days later, and I was a certifiable balloon.
Newscasters and reporters were too busy with all the rest of the fallout to take note of me and my sudden predicament. In fact, the one journalist I did get in contact with laughed me off the phone.
Luckily, my body was already a wasteland from years of inactivity and poor maintenance. I basically laid in bed for the duration of my pregnancy - a whopping week and a half. Then, I was fine. I popped right up and started taking care of my new baby. But she didn’t stay my baby for long. And she also didn’t stay alone. It seems that birth control isn’t a thing in the Sims: you woohoo for baby, you get a baby (eventually). Only irl, I didn’t have the ability to decide whether I wanted to get pregnant or not. If I had sex, there was a greater than 50% chance I’d get pregnant. And I like having sex with my husband. I’m sure you see where this is going.
Now, I’m literally a baby-making machine, minus the metal parts. And since they are the product of what can only be described as magical fuckery, my brood of children has amassed into an army. That dumbass reporter really wishes she’d spoken to me now.
Because of my specific circumstances, I’m also able to summon Death literally any time I want. And since we are best friends, Death will do my bidding if I ask nicely. Mostly I just ask Death to make sure my colony of offspring have room to grow, to thrive, and to make their own families. And also to spare me whenever I do something stupid, which I do quite a lot now that I’m basically invulnerable. Mauled by an animal? Ctrl+Shift+C maxmotives. Get hit by a car? Same thing! Am I worn out and exhausted? maxmotives, baby!
I don’t sleep except to dream. I have gotten so much done since realizing my powers, and I’ve only scratched the surface of my potential. I discovered I can make a living selling designer babies - especially since I don’t *have to* have sex to make a baby, and I can literally make a baby with anyone. You want Orlando Bloom’s kid? No problem. Kristin Bell? I can do it in my sleep! And recently I discovered that I don’t actually have to wait the full week and a half to get the baby; I can Speed Up Pregnancy with nothing more than the desire! It takes maybe a day after that, although it is quite an ordeal. My husband is actually quite pissed at me, because we haven’t had sex in weeks since I made the discovery. But I think once I take a break from my new business, I’ll get back in his good graces with minimal effort. After all, I can afford literally anything he wants just by shouting, “motherlode!” But that annoyingly causes inflation, so I don’t do it often anymore.
I gotta go now. Chris Hemsworth Jr. #7 is getting ready to claw his way out, and I need to have both hands free to brace myself for the birth. Toodles! | 2020-01-05T14:51:34 | 2019-08-12T00:38:07 | 1,516 | 30 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | So here’s the sitch: I totally do play video games. And no, I’m not one of those r/notliketheothergirls who insists I’m the only girl who games, or that I should receive all the sexual admiration for it. I’ve dabbled in just about everything - FPS, MMORPG, VR, PC, console, mobile, puzzles, survival, capture/collect, simulator, zombie, satire, first- second- and third-person open-world, linear, racing. Club Penguin. Any genre you name, I’ve probably tried it. Not any game, but any genre.
So sue me if I’m partial to pastoral games. As if you never spent hours of your time creating the perfect face or the perfect house or the perfect life for some imaginary person. It’s addicting to be able to control just about every aspect, especially if you tweak the settings and gameplay options so you can reverse any negative unforeseen happenings that would bring chaos to your perfect little world.
The thing is, when the Catalyst happened, I wasn’t just playing one game. I actually had two computers - my laptop and my old family desktop - running two different games. I know this sounds silly, but I really wanted to continue the epic saga I’d begun in The Sims 2 when I was in high school, now that I had finally downloaded The Sims 4. I skipped 3 because the drastic change in gameplay had been too much for me at the time. But after watching countless YouTubers take a crack at it, I was finally ready to give it another chance. Just, not without my OG family.
Upfront, I don’t mod. I don’t know how, and frankly I’m scared to try. The last time I messed with the source code on anything, I ended up destroying my computer. So, no mods for me. It’s cool for other people to, and I’ll admit I laugh every time cabbages rain from the sky as Thomas the Tank Engine careens toward Solitude. But I’m afraid if I touch it, I’ll break it. And then my husband will break me (not really; he’s very kind).
Now, I may not mod, but I also haven’t played Sims 2 without cheats enabled since I first installed the game. I don’t really know the cheat codes for Sims 4, yet, but I’m content to play it on vanilla for now. I mean, I was. I kinda haven’t touched it since that night.
When everybody else started getting their powers, I was convinced I had been skipped over. I mean, what kind of powers do Sims have, anyway? My husband, bless him, had been playing Mass Effect: Andromeda. Now he can interface with his own personal AI, and has a lot of cool abilities with electronics and the like. It certainly helped get us out of our financial situation. That is, until I discovered what had been done to me.
I don’t know how to explain to you exactly how unsettling it is to be sitting on a toilet when suddenly *POOF* confetti erupts around you. I definitely didn’t fall off the seat, but only because of the cramped space around the pot. I don’t know if I thought it was the ceiling collapsing, or that I was hallucinating, but it didn’t take more than a couple days to realize I was pregnant. A few days later, and I was a certifiable balloon.
Newscasters and reporters were too busy with all the rest of the fallout to take note of me and my sudden predicament. In fact, the one journalist I did get in contact with laughed me off the phone.
Luckily, my body was already a wasteland from years of inactivity and poor maintenance. I basically laid in bed for the duration of my pregnancy - a whopping week and a half. Then, I was fine. I popped right up and started taking care of my new baby. But she didn’t stay my baby for long. And she also didn’t stay alone. It seems that birth control isn’t a thing in the Sims: you woohoo for baby, you get a baby (eventually). Only irl, I didn’t have the ability to decide whether I wanted to get pregnant or not. If I had sex, there was a greater than 50% chance I’d get pregnant. And I like having sex with my husband. I’m sure you see where this is going.
Now, I’m literally a baby-making machine, minus the metal parts. And since they are the product of what can only be described as magical fuckery, my brood of children has amassed into an army. That dumbass reporter really wishes she’d spoken to me now.
Because of my specific circumstances, I’m also able to summon Death literally any time I want. And since we are best friends, Death will do my bidding if I ask nicely. Mostly I just ask Death to make sure my colony of offspring have room to grow, to thrive, and to make their own families. And also to spare me whenever I do something stupid, which I do quite a lot now that I’m basically invulnerable. Mauled by an animal? Ctrl+Shift+C maxmotives. Get hit by a car? Same thing! Am I worn out and exhausted? maxmotives, baby!
I don’t sleep except to dream. I have gotten so much done since realizing my powers, and I’ve only scratched the surface of my potential. I discovered I can make a living selling designer babies - especially since I don’t *have to* have sex to make a baby, and I can literally make a baby with anyone. You want Orlando Bloom’s kid? No problem. Kristin Bell? I can do it in my sleep! And recently I discovered that I don’t actually have to wait the full week and a half to get the baby; I can Speed Up Pregnancy with nothing more than the desire! It takes maybe a day after that, although it is quite an ordeal. My husband is actually quite pissed at me, because we haven’t had sex in weeks since I made the discovery. But I think once I take a break from my new business, I’ll get back in his good graces with minimal effort. After all, I can afford literally anything he wants just by shouting, “motherlode!” But that annoyingly causes inflation, so I don’t do it often anymore.
I gotta go now. Chris Hemsworth Jr. #7 is getting ready to claw his way out, and I need to have both hands free to brace myself for the birth. Toodles! | 2020-01-30T11:35:06 | 2019-08-12T00:38:07 | 1,281 | 30 |
[WP] in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man. | "Shake my hand."
Those were the last words I heard him speak. The escape operation had been incredibly difficult. There were enough guards to fill a soccer stadium surrounding this prison for one person. The person I had just killed each and every last guard to free. He had told me to make a blood oath, and become blood brothers. And I did so, to my demise. That was BC 1105. The year now is 2020. I have seen the rise and fall of many empires, the birth and death of the supposed Jesus Christ, although I never believed it. I saw both world wars, and the cold war, fought in both of them too. I became a legend among the ranks, but also a secret to the generals and lieutenants. In order to protect my identity, where in the battle of Mons my absolute, supposedly suicidal rampage caused the enemy troops to flee in sheer terror, the troops, my friends, told the authorities that angels and flown down and scared off the Nazis. The excuse still made me giggle slightly to this day.
I guess I'm crazy, but living for 3000 years does that to people. I hadn't aged a day since I had rescued him from that torture house the Chinese had called a prison. I didn't even know my own name anymore, or at least my original name. 3000 years gives you a lot of time to learn things, and it also unlocks areas of the brain that would remain dormant for a normal human's entire life. I could forge to an exact degree (with both metals and identities) meaning that I have had an inordinate amount of names. The one I had at the moment was Will.
I had been looking for the man for about 2500 years. At first the immortality was fun, and I showed off to everyone. But after watching everyone I loved die before my eyes, it became less so. I tried making blood pacts with others to try and give them my immortality, but to no avail. I realised that I could not make a single friend for the rest of my life. This was depressing,. but eventually I numbed myself to it, and to every other type of pain too. You could shoot me in the head, but I wouldn't die. I was put to the guillotine in France for being a witch after they found out about my invincibility, but my head just grow straight back.
But I kept on searching and searching. I would never find him, though, I knew, because he was dead. I found out yesterday. I saw his grave. I bore the name "Graman Shore".
I'm so tired...
I might just go for a snooze...
&#x200B;
And he felt no more. | It's not that you're ungrateful or anything like that - but you wish you could die already and meet your loved ones that's gone to the other side without you over the years.
"Has anyone seen this man?" Is the name of the post you're making online with your sketch of what you can remember of him. You write down the name of the city you helped him escape imprisonment from in its modern name too as the last place you saw him. You spiel a story that you want to catch up with this man you haven't seen in years who you had helped and made an oath with each other.
You write down with no remorse that you are dying.
The internet implodes and it has been shared over a hundred thousand times and you bet even more on other social media platforms.
Unsurprisingly, you receive false messages.
You sigh after reading once again another fake claim. You were just about to go to bed when you received a new notification - this time with the name of that city but in its old name - written the olden way and the message is written of the old language that is for all intents and purposes considered dead and your entire body is wide awake.
> Hello friend. I hear you've been looking for me.
It begins pleasantly and soon dread pools in your gut the more you read.
> I remember you still of course, I am indebted to your help all those years ago and at your kindness and generosity. I look forward to meet with you again - but I will only do this so the media will stop spreading your eerie accurate depiction of my appearance. I am rather fond of who I look like this generation and for you to ruin it by spreading it in this time... Well - that simply won't do, will it? I implore you - my friend and ally for you are of course that, to meet me tomorrow noon in the park by your local library and take a picture so they will calm down once this has been resolved.
Your hands are trembling at his signature.
> Yours always - the felon
This was a mistake.
You abruptly delete your post and send messages to all media to stop broadcasting/sharing as you've already found him and that he's a private man and you've upsetted him.
Of course, this was your new mistake. Believing the media would listen to you.
You delete all traces of your online identity and are in the process of recreating a new offline and online one when there is a knock on your door.
It is 1:19 AM - no one should be here. Yet you already know for who else would it be but the felon?
_"My ally."_ Your dead native language flows from the other man you've been looking for in a strange accent. _"Are you not?"_
He makes himself comfortable in your living room and you silently, gobsmacked as you were, watch him do so with no protest. Instead, you calmly close the door behind you and plead your case.
_"Undo the blood oath. Let me pass."_ You all but beg. _"Please."_
This man who cursed you frowns and tilts his head in confusion. _"Many others would kill to have what I've given you, do you not want to reconsider?"_
You shake your head, nerves somewhat uncoiling at the serenity of the situation. _"I wish to be gone from this life. Many others may have lasted longer but I have lived for far too long than I should have."_
He hums and smiles. _"Very well, may you find peace in nothingness."_ A knife is brandished and you feel your nerves coil tightly as he comes closer to you. _"This may hurt."_
So it did. You screamed and he lets you scream. Your dwelling is sound proof.
Blood spills and stains the cream carpet and you feel consciousness fade away from you.
_"May you rest."_ The Felon kneels next to you and fingers are combed through your hair. _"In hell."_
Your eyes snap wide open from its drooping state and your fingers feebly attempt to claw at his legs as he stands up and walks away from you.
His laughter rings in your skull as you fade away. | 2019-08-28T02:33:03 | 2019-08-28T01:54:57 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] The Earth has finally run out of fossil fuels to use as energy and, with the only other option being to turn to clean and renewable energy sources, the U.S. has decided to take drastic measures: trying to reach into alternate dimensions to find oil and other fossil fuels. | It would have been easier if the Crack had led to an uninhabited earth. It would have been easier, too, had the Crack not been made from the USA to the 'USA'. And easier still if the tribes on the other side, hadn't long ago united. If their technology, while different to ours, was not at least on par.
The Crack, although atomically unstable, had been a last gasp effort to save America's status on the world stage. It'd been formed in northern California, running three miles wide and two miles high. A light-impenetrable wall of void-black. The Mouth of God. We were to mine and pollute and -- if necessary -- destroy opposition on the other side. We'd sell the goods produced over there to the people in our world. Oil was a priority. We would not pry the Middle East's fingers off their grip on the market, but take a blade and slice them off.
Boots marched, and snipers silenced those unprepared on the other side. We weren't there to negotiate. Their reality was irrelevant to our needs. And our needs dictated our musts.
We set up our great hulking factories and machines, and sprawling defensive fortifications. Then we watched as our smoke choked their skies. Watched and waited.
We didn't have to wait long.
They came in thousands, an avalanche of angered men, women, and children.
The land ran red.
As a historian, it's my job to say where our timelines diverged, and how they achieved their eventual victory against us. It seems clear that the Europeans weren't the first to reach the Americas, in their reality. And by the time the Europeans did reach -- if ever -- the tiny machines inside the American bodies would have had no issues destroying plagues such as smallpox.
It also seems likely, from the little evidence we have and through DNA analysis, that it was the Egyptians who arrived first in South America. That the Roman Empire collapsed early and the Egyptian Empire spread and advanced, consuming Greek and Roman knowledge. Somewhere around our 400BC, the Egyptians arrived in South America and nurtured the nascent Mayan empire. These Mayans, in turn, were able to absorb the Incas and Aztecs and expand into central and northern America. They were not opposed, as they promised -- and delivered -- a better life for those that joined them.
Our battle for California lasted four years. For a time, it seemed as if the Mayans would capitulate. Their losses were great and their weapons primitive and the frequency of their attacks lessened. They were not a war like empire. But they wouldn't give up their battle: not for need of the land or for the resources, but for the sale of the planet itself that they saw us gutting. That they held so sacred, so high above all else.
The New Mayans primarily relied on sonic technologies for construction, and as the years dragged on, they re-purposed their technology. Soon, sound-waves would tear a man's head from his neck, would pick up and shake a tank to tiny pieces. As we were pushed back, we changed from bullets and bombs and gasses, to nukes. Nukes deep into their lands, that would send a message without contaminating the resources we were after. But even then, the two continents were vast, and the Mayan resources and populace almost infinite.
It became clear the USA couldn't afford a prolonged war. We had neither the manpower, the money, or the public support. We had fought for resources and lost most of our own in the attempt.
The land around the Crack, on both sides, was purposely contaminated by nuclear fallout for miles around, to stop the Mayans from coming through.
But still they come.
Still other Cracks appear around the world.
We are killing our Earth, and they will not allow it. | The lines for the gas station were brutal. Sitting in the Texas heat with the windows down and the car turned off to conserve gas? Almost just as bad. Marcus Holliday - call me Marky, he would always say with a lopsided grin and a sly wink - sighed and patted the dash of the old Chevy. Dust swirled in through the window and he waved it away. "Bullshit," he mumbled to himself, glancing at his watch. It had been two hours.
The line was barely moving. People had stopped honking even. He wondered if employees would tell the customers if they were out of gas or if he was just expected to wait there until the next truck came in. If it ever came in. It's not like he could leave. He wouldn't make it far, not with the needle barely budging from empty when he turned on the car. It would sputter and maybe, just maybe, manage to turn on... He didn't want to think of the alternative.
He leaned back against the headrest, running a tan, calloused hand through that blonde mane that reached down to his shoulders. It was almost haircut time, that was for certain. Too damn hot. Had he been a little more aware - a little more present, maybe - he would have heard the commotion taking over at the front of the line. Instead he tapped along to the country song running through his mind, eyes closed and humming softly, unaccompanied by the radio or anything other than the occasional curse from a nearby car. The breeze should have been a warning if the commotion was not. Instead he just smiled to himself, breathing in the sweet smell of rancid cigarette smoke and diesel engines as the breeze turned into unseasonal gusts of wind.
Up ahead, a massive gash split the ground in the middle of the gas station, swallowing up the unfortunate cars who had seemed fortunate enough to get a couple drops of gas into their tanks. Black emerged. Not blacks like the kids who would bike up the street with their shirts off and Marky would greet them with a smile just like he would anybody else but the older folk would scowl and shake their heads. Black emerged as the very absence of anything else.
Cars and people and the meager supply of gas were all swallowed up at once. There was no belch after the great swallowing, no returning of the stolen goods or reimbursement for the damaged property. The gash just kept growing, and only when it began to consume the cars around Marky with a massive tear of metal and the screams of other passengers did he snap to attention.
"Oh, sheeeeeit," he drawled, picking up the wide-brimmed brown cowboy hat from the seat beside him and placing it carefully atop his head. He turned the key and the engine roared to life and he gave a sigh of relief. Just as quickly, it sputtered out. "Oh boy," Marky said with a nervous grin.
He reached for his holster, finding comfort in the smooth barrel of the pistol that was always by his side. Women might have come and gone from his life and his cats may have been fickle as one of his spruned mistresses but that gun was always there for him. "Not today," Marky said as he climbed out of his car. He barely had to aim - good thing since he hadn't had the gas to go to the range lately - as he pulled the trigger over and over and over again until the chamber was empty.
The black void seemed to tremble under the onslaught of bullets. Lights flashed inside as the bullets ricocheted and the black cracked blacker and little creatures emerged escaping the liquid rush that came from beneath the ground. "Halle-fucking-lujah," Marky said slowly, staring in awe as the unmistakeable rush of oil chased the twisted little creatures out of their dimension and into his. "We done hit the motherlode." He wasn't quite right, as he would soon find out. In fact, he was in far more danger than he thought. He reloaded, a nagging feeling telling him that those evil looking creatures weren't here to pay their respects to his old Chevy.
The nagging feeling was right. One of the creatures - its skin a deathly grey pallor stretched far too thin over sinewy arms and legs - jumped atop the hood of his car. "You're scratching that shit, bitch," Marky shouted at the devilish little monster. You didn't want to scratch Marky's car. That was a big no-no, as far as his no-nos went. He took careful aim, steadying his hand as chaos enveloped the world around him. "Sayonara, motherfucker," Marky growled and he fired three bullets into the creature. It collapsed and convulsed before melting into the hood of the Chevy, ruining it completely. There was silence. And then one by one the dozens of other creatures stopped tearing limb from limb the hapless passengers of the other cars and turned their attention towards Marky. "Well now I'm in a bit of a pickle," he mumbled to himself.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-09-04T05:43:44 | 2019-09-04T05:30:27 | 180 | 37 |
[WP] You're a werewolf. Your significant other is a dog trainer and they just aren't having any of your shit. | "Good girl," he says, his fingers stroking through my hair, while the change comes over me.
Not even he can make it stop hurting, when the cramps that started in my belly twist through me, when the muscles clench and the pain rolls through my bones and things \*split\*, things \*come apart\* and \*come together\* in new ways, different ways, terrible ways. Don't talk to me about dark chocolate and 'that time of the month', motherfucker. You don't know shit.
Danny? Danny knows his shit. He knows me.
Can you even imagine, remembering what this used to feel like? Out in a fucking Ohio cornfield, or out behind some dumpster in Boise? The pain, the hurt, the vulnerability? That volatile mix of terror and hunger, when your brain shuts down and it's all guts demanding to be fed. Nothing left in the world but things that are threats, and things that are food.
Now I nestle my cheek and my muzzle against his thigh, and I close my eyes, and let the change come. Danny's got me. His fingers through my hair are a promise, slow and calm. Slow and calm. The pain will pass. I'm home. This is my bedroom, and it smells like us. I'll remember that smell, in a few minutes. I'll trust that smell. And him.
Danny used to be a monk. He even had a tonsure cut. It was horrible. A real, honest-to-God catholic monk, before the calling fell away.
"I think God trusts me to be off-leash now," he'd told me coyly, on our first date. Three years and a wedding ring ago.
But the monks of New Skete and the life there had been good to him.
The moon rises, and the pain comes, and it goes.
We're going to go for a walk tonight. He'll keep me to heel; and out of our trash, and away from the neighbour's cat. I can smell the ground beef treats he's got baking in the oven downstairs; we both learned quickly, as it turns out, I'm a *very* food-motivated werewolf. Hunting? Chasing? Sure, that's *fun*, but that box of meatballs has my name on it.
I used to run wild, hungry, terrified, looking for a pack I knew I needed, and would never find. Lone wolves starve. Lone wolves die.
Danny's got me.
My last fleeting memory of humanity is the feeling of his hand sliding my wedding ring off, so it won't cut my finger when it changes.
He trusts me off-leash now, too. | She had taken a while to find. The ad had been for people who must love dogs, but also know how to control them. Several had come, seeing the good pay and curious about the pup they needed to train. None of them had "it". They weren't up to the task. That was no problem though, he could afford to go through the process of finding the right person.
Before in life he had been the major CEO of a tech company. And he still would be if he hadn't been afflicted with this curse a few weeks ago. He was still young and ambitious, so it was a shock that such an influential person step down from his company. He had plenty of money, so people just assumed he would retire and live the leisurely life of a young bachelor billionaire. But my oh my how they would be wrong. He didn't want to step down, but he just couldn't focus anymore.
Unlike what he had come to know from media and books his affliction wasn't just set on at the full moon. He transformed every night. The moon's fullness just changed his amount of strength.
He knew the ad was a long shot, I mean how many dog trainers are there in a big city, hundreds, thousands? Oh well, he would find the right one eventually, and eventually he did.
He explained the situation to her, and like many of the others before her she had her disbeliefs. But she was ready for anything, she had grown up tough and strong. She was no nonsense, and had no desire to be mauled by a vicious dog if what this crazy man was spouting was true. Plus he was paying well, she could deal with it.
She took precautions though, she had him chained up. He seemed to like that. Maybe it was just that someone was taking him seriously. And then she waited...and sure enough as the sun went down the young man was no longer in front of her, but a shaggy, vicious looking, mongrel. He would have stood tall but his chains kept him semi crouched. He snarled at her and raged against the chains, but there was nothing he could do.
She remained calm and unflinching. She had dealt with vicious dogs before. They just need...dominance. That was after all why she was so good at her job, that was what she enjoyed. She did nothing that night, nothing to antagonize the beast further but just waited him out. Until when the sun rose and he turned back into the young man.
He was grateful to see that she was still alive, and not running scared for her life. He had hope she might be the one. She informed him that tomorrow would be different, but he would still be in chains, and he agreed.
And as the next night came, it was indeed different. She chained him up and let the change begin. He immediately let out a blood curdling howl and snarl, only to be swatted across the nose. He was taken aback, furious. He growled, and was met with another swat on the nose. He torn at his chains and barred his large white fangs, and was met with a whip on the legs and swat at the nose. What was happening...his rage continued to grow as she swatted him.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a whip meant for especially aggressive dogs. And swatted the hind quarters of the beast. He snapped at her and then pulled back...like he was asking for it again. So she hit him again, and the same thing happened. He was enjoying this. And it showed, like any dog when excited it showed. She kept at it, whipping in different spots and scolding him like any bad dog, and as his rage subsided his excitement grew. Soon enough he had to take care of himself and slept the rest of the night.
She understood now...must love dogs. Several weeks passed of their "training", and now she showed up in full dominatrix leather, with whips and chains. The she and the young man had never been so happy. | 2019-09-20T11:18:55 | 2019-09-20T09:14:19 | 109 | 61 |
[WP] As a dad, you obviously have a mug that claims you're the "#1 World's Best Dad". One day, you find on the news that all "Best Dad Mugs" now have actual ratings, the media is crazy about it, a photo shows a mug with #5,826,827 World's Best Dad on it, curious, you check yours. It still says #1. | My son Max and I were watching Paw Patrol (his favorite show) and eating bacon (our favorite food) when a "special news announcement" came up on the screen. I couldn't believe it, people were being ranked and rated based on their best dad mugs... It wasn't long after that I got struck with a memory...
My dad was sick a few years ago. When the illness hit, I knew it wasn't going to be long till he moved on. Just before the last time I saw him I stopped at the gift shop in the hospital and saw "Best Dad" on a mug. I figured it would cheer him up so I bought it for him. Unfortunately, when I arrived at his room he had just passed away. I didn't have a chance to give him the mug.
When that memory struck me, I remembered I kept the mug in my dresser. I didn't think of it often but I knew I still had it. I figured I would check it out and see what the fuss was about.
I looked in my dresser and found the mug. At first it didn't have any ranking on it, but I slowly saw something start to form on it. It was blurry, but as it came into focus I saw "#1 Best Dad"
I was confused... "I don't get it" I said to myself. That was when Max came into my room, wagging his tail with his mouth open wide, looking up at me with his brown eyes and his floppy ears with bacon grease in his fur.
To him, I was the best dad ever. | *What the fuck?*
I turn off the T.V. and glance at the half-eaten cup of microwaved ramen in front of me. Then back to the mug. Then back to my ramen.
*It must be some sort of mistake.*
I dig out a dilapidated iPhone 4 from my sweatpants pocket and begin dialing. The touchpad numbers are hard to see under the harshly cracked screen.
“Wow, didn’t expect you to call.”
“Hey Rebecca! Everything good with you right? Listen, where’s Timothy at right now?”
“With his step-daddy. They going mini-golfing then I’ll join them for the picnic later. I’m making sandwiches. Why?”
“Uh, can I see him? Maybe next month or something? I can make a trip down, just gotta get some time to fix up the old Hyundai. Think it need a gas change or some…”
“What the hell, where’s this coming from? You haven’t seen my baby for the last five years and all of a sudden you want back into his life? He doesn’t even know you, he don’t remember you.”
“You never told him about me?”
“Why would I? What have you ever done for us? You’ve done shit all ‘cept call me at Christmastime begging for dollars. I don’t even know where you’ve been! Last I heard you left town years ago so why don’t you stop calling and bothering!”
She hung up.
So that’s obviously not the one. I racked my brain for the others.
There’s Jessica but she hates my guts so I doubt she says anything good about me to my daughter.
Tiff of course, but I wasn’t there for the baby’s birth. Not even sure that one’s mine despite her constant cries for child support. *Twas a hoe fo sho.*
Natalie? Nahh can’t be. Didn’t that baby turn out to be retarded or some shit? I chuckled. *Got out of there quick! Dodged a bullet with that one.*
Out of the dark recesses of my mind, one girl popped out. Very young, cute smile. Ah yeah back when we were both still in high school. I had heard maybe she got knocked up, but I never knew if I had been the culprit. In any case I left that school soon after.
What was her name again? Gloria something I think.
It didn’t really matter. I had no way of contacting her anyway, it’s been so long. Barely remember what she looked like.
My heart jolted as I faintly recalled her last name.
I pulled up Google on the crusty iPhone 4 and typed in her full name.
*Fuck me.* My eyes met the mug once again. Those engraved letters stared mockingly back at me. “#1 World’s Best Dad”
The first page of Google showed an image of Gloria James posing next to her son. A maroon jersey draped over her son’s towering physique. It read: “Cleveland Cavaliers #23.” | 2019-10-02T22:09:48 | 2019-10-02T18:55:59 | 765 | 110 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | Erryn relished the moment. There was something cathartic in holding between his tendrils the terms of surrender, in knowing that you hold the only hope for a dying race. In that moment, he held the power of life and death for the fifteen billion humans on the planet below, as well as the one who sat across the table from him now.
The two of them sat alone on a station that had been prepared exclusively for the purpose; only the two negotiators and the cameras that would broadcast the surrender to the Universe. Beside them, the wall was filled with a viewport that showed the surface of Earth spinning away from them, as well as the tremendous fleet that floated menacingly above.
The human negotiator took the treaty from Erryn and began to read. The terms were simple: humanity would submit to Tallnian authority in perpetuity, yielding all valuables within a solar cycle. It was a method that had worked for them many times before; all throughout the arm of the galaxy, Tallnian planets could be found, constructing the great fleets that would go on to expand the Empire.
The negotiator carefully placed the treaty on the table and sat back, his eyes closed. From his training, Eryn recognized this as defeat. The man who had been so pure in the House of Diplomacy, who had insisted that every conflict could be solved there even as the Tallnians slaughtered his people on the Plutonian Outpost, was silent.
Erryn placed a pen on the table. He took special pleasure in making the defeat feel as familiar as possible.
The negotiator sighed, then spoke. “I remember you from the House, Erryn. You always told me that war was beyond law. That the strong would rule, and the weak would deserve it.”
Erryn laughed. “And I was correct, so it would seem.”
The human leaned forward. “You said that peace was a weak race’s game, and that only a coward would waste his time with its rules.”
“I did.” Erryn was getting impatient now. “And I do not see how this exchange will benefit us.”
“I just wanted you to understand something, before this is all over.”
“Oh?”
“Rules are not for good races to make themselves feel better. Good races, ones that are truly altruistic, don’t need rules.” He took a deep breath. “Today, you’ll understand why humanity has so many.”
At that moment, a blinding light stabbed through the viewport. Erryn shielded his optic spots, surprised by the sudden brightness. He thought that their star would rise on the other side of the planet…
The light faded, and Erryn looked back outside. The Tallnian fleet was gone, replaced by a rapidly-expanding sphere of rubble. He fell back into his seat in shock.
The human was already on his feet, halfway to the hatch to his ship. He looked back at Erryn, the pain evident on his alien features. “I am so sorry that it came to this.” Then, a moment later, he was descending back to his planet.
Erryn sat there in shock. He hadn’t moved when, an hour later, a piece of the Tallnian flagship’s great cannon tore through the station, incinerating the treaty and the Tallnian who had brought it | Vyxis Varix, Emperor of the Ruson Goar and Lord Commander of the Royal fleet closed his eyes and enjoyed a long drag from the cigarette between his fingers, the end glowing bright orange. One of the finer gifts the Humans had introduced to the galaxy. It is a shame that this might be the last time he would indulge in such simple pleasures. Through the gray smoke that billowed from his mouth, he saw the gleaming black throne room doors spiral open and his son, Jos, step through.
“Father,” his son said as he strutted his way down the long, onyx hall towards him. His footsteps echoed confidently in the otherwise silent chamber. When he reached the base of the throne, he kneeled and averted his eyes in respect. “It is good to be home and at your side once again.”
“Indeed,” Vyxis said with another puff of smoke. “I am pleased that you have returned to me, whole of body. Rise.” His son did so, beaming with pride. With cigarette in hand, Vyxis stood, reached out, pressed the burning end into his sons forehead.
Jos screamed in shock and recoiled, falling backwards onto his rear end. “What did you do that for!” He shrieked.
Vyxis took another drag, squatted beside his son and blew the smoke out in his sons face, who turned his head to avoid it. He did not recoil further, however. He knew better than that.
“I received grave communications today from General Brax,” Vyxis said as he stood and slowly removed the jacket of his empirical regalia. “Communications about you that have filled me with great disappointment and sorrow.” He folded his uniform neatly and placed it on the seat of his throne. He signaled for his guards to seize and hoist his son up off the ground. “You fucked up.”
He drove his fist hard into his sons stomach and the boy crumpled, the only thing keeping him on his feet being the guards.
“What did I do? Was is the Atrin? It was just some backwater planet.”
“Not that,” Vyxis said, punctuating it with another blow to the stomach.
“What?” Jos said, sputtering. “The cruiser? So what? We do it all the time.”
Vyxis shook his head. “It’s not what you did, son that angers me so. It’s who you did it to.”
Jos’ eyes searched for the answer. “Who? Those fucking weaklings?”
“Those fucking weaklings... are humans. We had a skirmish with them, long ago. They call them Babu Frin.”
Jos wrinkled his brow. “Babu Frin? The demon you used to scare me with as a child?
Vyxis nodded. “Well, the humans weren’t exactly Babu Frin. They are the ones who you call to kill fucking Babu Frin.”
Jos staggered. “Oh.”
Vyxis continued. “The humans are a species of focus, commitment and sheer fucking will... something you know very little about. I once saw them obliterate, three fucking fleets with a one ship, one fucking ship armed with one fucking weapon. Then suddenly one day they asked for peace. At the time I thought we had the upper hand, so I made a deal with them. I gave them an impossible task. A task no one could have pulled off. The species they buried for us those years laid the foundation of what we are now. And then my son, a few days after their beloved leader died, you invade and take their fucking dogs. And for what? For an exotic meal?
Jos steeled himself. “Father, I can make this right.”
Vyxis smiled a sympathetic smile. “Oh? How do you plan that?”
“By finishing what I started.”
Vyxis grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck and pulled him close to whisper harshly in his ear. “Did you not hear a fuckin' word I said?”
Vyxis’s eyes welled up. “Jos. Jos,” he said, trying his best to avoid choking up. “Listen! Huh? The humans will come for you, and you will do nothing because you can do nothing.” He steeled himself for what was to come. This was his son. But the war he just started would be the end of him. Vyxis himself could probably make a deal but the humans would not stop until they had Jos’ head on a spike. He hung his head and let his tears fall to the cold, black floor. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” | 2020-02-07T14:00:31 | 2020-02-07T13:27:54 | 106 | 41 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | "You may have thought us pathetic and frail for our friendship and pacifism," related the calm voice that came over the monitor.
The Glorthon admiral, Tee'et Lorcor, stared with horror as two more dreadnought class battle cruisers under his commanders were obliterated by a single missile strike each. The fleet was on the defensive, all fire was directed at stopping the hundreds of rockets from the human fleet and planet surface below. It seemed like they had just reached enemy's home star system, and the advance had come to a screeching halt.
"But our friendship was extended because we know the true horrors of war," the calm voice continued almost sadly.
The Glorthons had never experienced such resistance even from the mighty Cluthons of Criok 4. The early human resistance consisted of small frigates and transports using lasers meant only to clear rogue asteroids. Tee'et Lorcor's fleet had cut through the human forces like a predator's claw through soft flesh. Why would they hold back their most powerful weapons until they had broken through all the way to Mars?
"You see we once fought among ourselves for things we now view as petty," the voice sighed as two more ships were incinerated, "Greed, bigotry, and national pride drove us to war with each other in the most brutal and savage ways."
"It was a race to see who could kill each other faster and more efficiently, until one fateful day, twenty millennia ago, we invented a weapon that could vaporize cities," the voice explained.
Surely he lies, thought Tee'et Lorcor. The only weapons capable of that are lasers and they stagnated at city sized destruction five thousand years ago. Yet, another ship exploded in radiant energy to prove his foe's point.
"Eventually, the weapons were powerful enough to level small continents, that's when the Fateful Hour occurred. 70% of humanity was gone in what seemed like an instant, the rest left to pick through the scraps as they died slow painful deaths," the voice broke.
Tee'et Lorcor's fleet was dwindling. He would have to get creative if he were to win this battle and put an end to the humans. He scrambled fighters to get in close to the orbital stations that seemed to be the primary source of the missile salvo
"Faced with extinction, we promised to never again use such weapons and found a new purpose. We would rebuild as we took to the stars. It's funny what the specter of extinction will do," the voice mused.
Lorcror was getting worried now. They had destroyed a couple of the stations, but the human squadrons were holding off his fighters just enough. For every station destroyed another four Glorthon battle cruisers exploded with bright light.
"We met other peoples and vowed to help them build, create, and be happy. We learned from our mistakes and hoped to teach others," the voice seemed to be coming to a conclusion.
Fate was beginning to dawn on Tee'et Lorcor. They could not win this fight. The shear amount of laser fire required to slowly drain the opposing fleets shields could not hope to keep up with the destructive power the missiles. He had to sound the retreat for the mere dozen ships remaining under his control.
"And now we face extinction again," the voice stated gravely, "And we came to a terrible but inescapable decision. We must build the weapons again. We must fight with the efficiency we did back on Earth."
Suddenly, Tee'et heard warning alarms. The warp drives failed to power up! Engineering reports all ships seemed to have been crippled. The humans must had been silently slicing into their warp core control systems since the battle started. Had they planned this from the start?
"Did you really think Mars was always our home?" | The Warfang watched the pathetic excuse for a human diplomat before him. This mission was a study in boredom, and had not intergalactic relations demanded the prescence of his delegation they would have done away with the whole thing and just attacked.
Already the Concordates warships were hurtling through the human home system, less than a day away from orbit. Its mass drivers would kill what needed to be killed and its dropships would conquer the rest. Whatever the old decrepit man in front of him might say, would do less of a difference than a fart in a space suit.
”We have heard your demands”, the old man grated. ”Actually we’ve had them repeated without any signs of compromise for months now.”
”It seems to us that they are designed to make these talks no more and no less than a show for the benefit of the galactic council?” he stated. ”Please correct me if I’m wrong.”
The Warfang didn’t deign an answer. What was the purpose anyway? After all, the greybeard had hit the nail on the head. This was just a show, and nothing happening between these delegations would change anything that was to come.
”You are making a serious mistake, Warfang”, the old diplomat said. ”You and your Concordate are mistaking our strife for galactic peace for weakness…”
”It is not…”
The old mans smile held a sudden tinge of remorsefull sadness. It was curious to the Warfang how two such different species could share so much of facial expressions, that he intuitively understood the sentiment. It suddenly made his skin crawl, as if someone held a blade to his neck. And just as he was trying to formulate a question to solve the enigma, the diplomats eyes went to the big hologram covering the whole side of the room. His own eyes automatically followed the other mans focus.
On the display pinpricks of light started to erupt throughout the invading fleet. Wherever they lit up, icons of Concordate ships disappeared. Not even just in ones or twos, but in droves.
His mouth fell open, unconciously showing predator teeth. And as his eyes snapped back to the old diplomat, the old mans sad smile hade returned with twice the force.
”I am afraid your fleet is done for Warfang.” he said. ”If the Concordate had had more interest in actually studying the cultures you subjugate, you would have found out we were pretty damn close to wiping ourselves out a time or two. In reality we’re among the most warlike races of any that we’ve met, we have just tried to get ourselves beyond those instincts.”
The Warfang was stunned, not a sound came out of his mouth even as he tried to say something.
”I’m afraid that our peaceful stance has been dearly bought”, the old man continued. ”Our perpetual wars finally came to the point where our stark choice was cooperation or death. We chose cooperation, but the knowledge of how easy it is to kill never really left us.”
”But how?…” the words finally coming out of the Warfangs mouth sounded weak and shaky. He cursed himself under his breath.
”Not that hard actually. Just the power of the stars themselves, enhanced to the point where nothing really can stand against it.”
The old man shook his head, he no longer looked decrepit.
”We don’t expect the Concordate to yield, not when the foundation of their existense and identity as conquerors are threatened.” he said. ”So our own ships are already moving.”
The peculiar human eyes were no longer just sad, but also hard as stone.
”As we sit here, they are already on their way to all military centers within onehundred and fifty light years from our home system.
”I am afraid that those systems will become as close to uninhabitable as to not make much difference for at least a generation or two.”
”Our civilians”, the Warfang said with a keen.
”Yes, your civilians”, the diplomat answered. ”You had less than no appreciation for our civilians as recently as a few minutes ago. It was never our wish to have this war on our hands. But there is an old human saying that fits the situation all to well.”
The Warfangs look asked the question he couldn’t make himself utter in words.
”Never start a fight, but always finish it.”
The old man stood up and pushed the chair under the table.
”You are no longer welcome here. You, as a diplomat are of course free to go wherever you wish. We will not try to stop you, hurt you or in any way delay you”, he said. ”I suspect we might meet again in the galactic council. Or maybe we won’t, I’m not certain if you or I will be the chosen delegates. Until then all I can say is that this is not a cause for celebration as far as we are concerned.”
He wished to call the man back as he left the room. He wished to shout, scream, claw something. He wished to rend and tear flesh. Onehundred and fifty light years, that covered nine tenths of the Concordates primary systems, including the Capital. If those weapons were numerous enough and as efficient on the ground, the Concordate would all but cease to exist. | 2020-02-07T14:35:31 | 2020-02-07T14:29:21 | 97 | 35 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | Those humans. Those weak, pathetic Humans. Or so we thought. We decided to eradicate them. They where allies with many of our enemies, and had been providing raw materials to them to fuel them in their war with us. We knew they had to die.
And Besides, they where so pathetic. Squishy bodies, lacking a hard chitin to protect them, oversized eyes. They weren't *good* at anything, just average at everything. They can barely run at 10 m/s, have below average smell and sight, even with those weird eyes. Squishy and *cute*.
And they knew nothing of interstellar war. Oh we knew they had a few forays in their history, a few hundred thousand dead there, a million or two here. But they had given in to cowardice and now worked for *galactic peace*.
They didn't expect us, and so we had attacked their home, their precious Earth, before they even realised. Billions dead. That was how to do warfare. Kill enough and break their spirit.
We expected them to militize their economy when we began our assaults, but we didn't expect it to happen overnight. We moved more of our fleets into their space and they began modifying their ships ready for combat within a few months. We hadn't expected how quickly they could adapt to situations. I could almost admire them for it, if I didn't hate them so.
After the first few battles, they proved themselves actually quite talented at killing. Oh they where using Adanai technology, no doubt gotten through one of their many trade deals, but they used it very differently to the Adanai. They experimented with strange tactics, such as using the ability to hyper jump whilst towing small meteors to create a simple yet effective trebuchet of sorts.
When we withdrew from their space to regroup, we thought that would be the end of it. I wish it had been. They kept coming first invading our space, and then blockading our planets. We thought we could match them, ship for ship, and outgun them with our dreadnaughts. But more and more of their ships kept coming. Soon we where not only fighting a defensive war, but one we couldn't win.
They waited till we tried to surrender to begin the extermination. Every planet, bombarded from orbit simultaneously with those bombs. We are somewhat resistant to fallout, but they completely destroyed the atmosphere, turning our worlds into tombs for our people.
And they did not stop until they got to me.
I, Commander *SCRTCH* am the last of my people. They left me alive merely to bear witness to the destruction they had brought. The gift of death was too good for the one who had massacred their home, they said. And so here I stand, on the tomb of my people, recording this message for posterity. If any future civilisation finds this, I tell you, don't cross the humans. They have no concept of honorable warfare. They only bring death. | In ages gone by humanity did naught but wage war, from the first humans fighting over food, to the World Wars destroying the world anew. Humanity warred so often and with such ferocity, that one day we wished for peace, we desired peace so that no longer did our sons need to go forth and die for some cause. Then we encountered the Draconians, that wasn't what they called themselves, but large, long necked reptilian creatures with vestigial membranous wings, and longer tails? No way they wouldn't be called such. Much to our chagrin, our warrior ethic was the thing they valued most in us, desiring humans to be their defenders on the wild wild worlds they had colonized, to bring peace and law to their frontiers, and so we did.
When the M'rawth emerged, we were deceived by their appearance. I mean they're 4ft tall cat people, no one expected their leader to go all Joseph Stalin on his worlds parliament, and rally his military might, to attack the Draconians, and when they did, no one expected them to win.
A Draconian is physically imposing, and threatening in many ways, they are intelligent, methodical, an also 8ft tall quadruped lizards, with arms strong enough to one hand deadlift a 20mm cannon, in each one. But the M`rawth were ferocious, fast paced, working in teams to take them out. One on one, a Draco, could take out a M'raw, but they wouldn't fight one on one, they would only ever fight when they outnumbered their enemy to the tune of one to twenty three. Then they came for us, for humanity.
New London, was the first city to fall, followed quickly by the whole planet of Avalon, they combed the cities, bringing out each and every man, woman, and child, and gunned them down. From there they secured the coordinates to each and every Stargate in our databases, and launched an assault on earth.
Their attack was brutal, Atalanta was devastated, and it was almost a week before we could fight them back. Picking up after that massacre was… was something else… It did something to us, it woke something up. A beast great and terrible, something we fought so long to keep at bay. It reminded us of a more primal state we used to occupy, and reminded us just what kind of bloody mess we could make. We declared war, and we fought them like they never expected, pushing them all the way back to their home world, the place they'd make their last stand, with defences so powerful not even the mightiest ship in the Imperial Human fleet could break them… so we commissioned Project Erebus. To rebuild the greatest weapon in our long history, the ultimate weapon of war. The bombs.
I was there when they tested the first successful one, I volunteered to join one of the bomber crews. I… God forgive me… I dropped 4 of them on the bastards. I delivered the payloads to military targets civilian targets, hell I was one of the pilots to place the last bomb the one went down a prepared shaft so as to set off a chain reaction, that in conjunction with 44 other bombs of sufficient magnitude, resulted, in tectonic activity s0 severe, that it shook the planet apart.
The whole point of the war was to create a world where monsters like the M'rawth wouldn't exist…. I don't know if we succeeded… I have a son now, and I pray with every fiber of my being he will never know the rage, the fear, the hatred that war can bring out in our kind, I pray that he and those who come after never need to know just what destruction we can bring. Go forth my son, and never take up the blade or the gun, be an artist, a philosopher, anything but what I was forced to be, may your mind never know the smell of blood, of atomized flesh, or of a world with its atmosphere burning. May your sleep never be plagued with screams of untold trillions of lives, expunged by your hands. Know only peace my son.
-Excerpt from the diary of Jackson Dougalas, War Advisor to the Imperial Senate 582,349 HE (Human Era) | 2020-02-07T16:29:03 | 2020-02-07T15:57:43 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] The Anti-Christ came and went, but no one noticed because he wasn't worse than the current state of the world already is. The rapture followed, but no one went to Heaven, so we didn't notice that either. We've been living in Hell for the last 5 years, and no one has noticed, yet.
Boy, I never thought this would take off the way it has. This writing prompt was brought to you by my buddy Jed, who does not post to Reddit. I thought it was a great prompt, and wanted to share it. | "What is Hell?"
She was met by silence and sunken eyes.
"That wasn't rhetorical. I want someone to speak up and tell me what Hell is."
A groan issued forth, followed by palms colliding on a desk. One student drew themselves up in their seat. "Hell is this class."
A chorus of half-hearted laughter.
"Cute. But a start," she smirked. She turned and wrote out 'THIS CLASS' in yellow chalk. "Name something else."
"Where the Devil lives," another student chimed in. "All firey and shit."
DEVIL, she wrote. FIRE.
After another period of silence she sighed. "Come on, give me more than that. What is Hell?"
"Where bad folks go to get tortured."
"Pitchforks right in your butt."
TORTURE. PAIN. BUTTS.
Another dry laugh from the class, but they were waking up a little now. Good.
"I seen shows where Hell gets custom tailored to people. Like you relive the worst day of your life."
WORST DAY OF LIFE.
"So we agree that Hell kind of sucks," she smiled.
Absent-minded nods.
"So what if I told you that you were right the first time?"
The miasma of indifference cleared, yet the silence remained. She smiled with an almost wicked delight.
"Well, let's ask another question. How do you know you're alive?" she asked, eyes wide and wild. "No, how do you know you're awake?"
"Pinch yourself?" a student chimed up.
"Yes! And why does that work?"
Silence. They were actually thinking now, wondering where it was all leading.
The first student spoke again, "It hurts. Shit don't hurt if you're dreaming."
"Eloquently put, Cameron!" she beamed.
"My name is Je-"
"So if pain means you're awake, then how do you know if you're alive?"
"Pain," someone shouted.
PAIN, she wrote in red chalk.
"Experiences. Like you're seeing stuff and feeling stuff and you just...know it's happening."
EXPERIENCE.
"Yeah like you think about stuff. Just thoughts in general."
"Ah, I think therefore I am! Very good." THOUGHT/PERCEPTION.
She faced the class. "Now who here knows about anything about Buddhism?"
"Like the Dolly Lama or something?" a girl asked.
"Or something. What's it all about?"
One student practically jumped out of his seat. "My mom is a yoga teacher and she talks about this shit all the time. It's like...you let go of stuff and just kind of be."
"Well, maybe I should meet your mother," the teacher winked. The class laughed. She continued. "The thing you are supposed to let go of. To get a sense of peace. What is it?"
"Meditating? Like not thinking about anything," the same student responded.
"Not thinking about anything? But didn't you all say that to know you're alive is to think and perceive?"
Silence again.
"Admittedly, I'll caveate and say that meditating is a little more than we have described here, but for brevity's sake let's move on. In Buddhism, we are taught that to attain Nirvana, which is like heaven, you must let go of desire. Now why do you think that is?"
A pause, then, "Cause you always want more," a student offers.
"Indeed. Isn't that human nature?" she sighed fondly. "Always wanting something. Something more. What happens when we don't get what we want?"
"It fucking sucks," a boy shouted. The class laughs.
"It hurts, doesn't it? What happens when things hurt for a long time?"
"You get used to it," a girl says knowingly.
"I suppose you do after a while. Now one last question for all you bright kids. Can you name for me one thing that's good that never ends in pain?"
"Puppies!" a girl shouts.
"A puppy grows old and dies."
She deflated immediately. Another student spoke up with, "Love!"
"Ah, a classic that one. Who do you love that is immortal and will never leave you? And no bullshit platitudes like 'they're always in your heart."
Silence. The class was starting to look depressed now. Good.
"Now let's summarize," she clicked her tongue, turning to take stock of the board. "I want one of you to tell me what all this talk was about."
"Hell?" a student offered.
"Yes but I think we can do a little better than that of you paid attention."
"Life is Hell!" A student joked. The class laughed.
"Exactly!" she snapped.
They stopped laughing.
"All of you are alive. A never ending circle of reincarnation in the world of the living, the only place you can really feel pain and torment. Even in any shred of anything good you find, there will always be the fear of it being taken away. You will never fully enjoy your existence. You will have peaks followed inevitably by valleys, and you all will convince yourselves that it's a necessary part of life instead of questioning why! Isn't that delicious? Eternally in Hell and you reason it away. Retroactive justification is humanity's finest quality if you ask me. And the cycle has continued for so long that no one even realizes the end goal has been removed entirely. Peace will never be in your hands because your very existence is hinged on never knowing it. God has abandoned us all, and no one even noticed Him leave."
A bell rang before the pause afterwards could become an awkward silence. The students were quick to shuffle out of class.
Lillith smiled after them, hoping that some of them might cling to their existential dread a while. After all, it was so much more fun to toy with prisoners aware of the cage. | Content warning: non-graphic mentions of suicide.
The reports built up slowly, at first. The madmen rave, the fevered dream; the children play, the war-torn scream. There were logical, simple explanations for why .0003% of the population were claiming to be from the Harmonious Iridium Theocracy.
But then the results started streaming in. A self-proclaimed citizen of the Iridium Republic crashed the stock market overnight with an unprecedentedly intelligent algorithm. The newly-minted Iridium Entertainment created more than three thousand original movies in a month. Over the course of three years, North Korea gradually opened its borders, radically rearranged its government, and renamed itself the Second Harmonious Iridium Theocracy.
Five years after the event had begun, it was clear that the reports were accurate. We lived in Hell, and the damned souls of another world were trickling into ours.
The Iridites were, of course, more advanced than us. I supposed not living in literal Hell sped one's technological development up by a bit. Their social infrastructure was superior by quite the wide margin, as well; in the words of one Iridite, they'd stopped having wars by "simply not having wars about things. Seriously, you dingleberries, this isn't that hard."
Clearly, they were also more stuck-up than us.
"Alright, Sertie, thanks again. These theology books will be a life-saver," I said. Doctor Vanto Sertie of the Second Harmonious Iridium Theocracy—which would never be abbreviated like the U.S. or the U.S.S.R.—nodded to me sharply from across my couch.
"*Doctor* Sertie, if you please; the pleasure mine, I take my leave." Oh, yeah, and they all talked like that. We put up with them because we had to. Doctor Sertie stood up, brushed couch-crumbs off his pants with a grimace, and opened the door to leave. I couldn't blame him; I hadn't cleaned the place up in three weeks.
As Doctor Sertie opened the door, however, he nearly ran face-first into my landlord. She gave him a surprised glance—probably at seeing an Iridite in a dump like my apartment—then stood aside to let him pass. I sighed internally. Here it came.
My landlord—Ms. Loren, a young, spry woman—stood uncertainly at the door. When I didn't respond, she called out, "Cal?"
I sighed. Yes, my work was important, but I couldn't just leave Ms. Loren hanging. Woman with the power to evict me or no, it just wasn't right to leave an old friend hanging. An ugly thought flashed through my mind—that was exactly what I'd done to my last roommate, and planned to do to myself. But there was still some time before I was certain.
"Yes, Ms. Loren?" I stood up and respectfully brushed aside the mound of decaying instant ramen cups. She looked down at the stained carpet, and it cut me deeper than I'd care to admit that she didn't even give me an earful about damaging her property.
"Look, Cal. I know... I know you miss Kara. But, ah... she didn't mail in the rent, before she died, and you haven't either. I... I'm afraid that if you can't get together the money before next Sunday, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She looked pointedly at the stack of gold-embossed books on Iridite theology, but said nothing.
I shook my head. I'd spent every dollar I'd had on these books, and I wasn't backing down now. "Thanks for the concern, but one way or another, I'll be out of everyone's hair by Sunday." I smiled a mirthless grin.
"Now, Cal, I don't like the sound of that. Look, I know a good grief counselor, and Kara was as much of a friendly face to me as anyone. If you need anything, even on a college student's budget—"
"I dropped out," I said, flatly.
"Oh." Ms. Loren swallowed. "I'm very sorry to hear that, Cal. But—"
"Thank you for your concern, and for allowing me to stay here. Now please, go away." I gently—but firmly—eased the door shut.
After I heard her receding footsteps, I sighed.
Then I got to work. There were precious few freely available texts on Iridite theology, for a nation which identified itself as a theocracy, and even fewer which had been written on the Iridite homeworld in the last five years. It had taken three weeks of scrimping and saving to be be able to reach this point, but I needed to be a hundred percent certain.
It didn't take very long to read through them. Not for nothing was I a student of history; cutting through dry, ancient texts was my favorite pastime, back when Kara and I had been at the University of Southwest Colorado together. It took me maybe twelve hours to finish sorting, cross-referencing, and above all, absorbing their contents into my mind. Twelve hours which left me cramped, hungry, thirsty—and resignedly, hopeful.
*It is a strange phenomenon,* the text wrote, *how the consciousness translates between afterlives. Only recently has our technology advanced to the point where we can consistently bring someone to the brink of death and back. And here, we have made startling discoveries.*
*Those who were good in life—really, truly, virtuously selfless people—they come back screaming. Begging to be put back into the Land of the Light, and tearing their eyes and throat out if left unrestrained. We have gotten nothing of use from such explorers.*
*But for the rest of us—even the merely average—we find an entirely alien world. One which, in the past five years, has shifted.*
*Sadly, funding for exploring the afterlife has always been low; it is of little potential application to humanity, and the last Hell we explored was a barren, sulfurous wasteland. This fresh Hell, however, is an entire, inhabited planet. A planet of humans whose past has diverged from ours significantly. A planet of humans advanced enough for us to establish similar levels of technology to our own. And so, for the first time, we report on what happens when you die in Hell.*
*The consistent answer, as far as we can tell? You simply go one Hell deeper.*
*This is where the old Hell went. That land of nightmares and myths. It was simply forced further down by the weight of this Earth—by mechanisms as yet unknown. But every exploration has proclaimed the same thing: that the freshly dead are still down there. And that there are as many layers of Hell as there are stars in the sky.*
I swallowed. The explorations indicated that nothing physical could be taken with you—only your physical body. So I'd tattooed her face into my hand. Kara's face.
I went into my closet. I took out what I'd left there since they'd taken Kara down from the ceiling, Kara swinging with the air conditioner's wind.
The ceiling fan was all too sturdy.
I took a deep breath.
"I'm coming to get you, Kara."
And I let go.
r/rileywrites | 2020-03-18T14:55:25 | 2020-03-18T14:47:59 | 56 | 18 |
[WP] On the run from mercenaries, a young girl stumbles into an old Greek temple and in a last ditch effort to save herself, begs for help from whichever god or goddess it belongs to. She didn't expect them to show up in person. | Sara ran the baying of the mercenaries' dogs tracking her. Why they were hunting her she didn't know she was a student helping on a dig. As she raced through the back trails and paths that seemed to have only be used by animals for years her desperation grew and grew.
There a flash of dressed stone turning into it she saw the ruin of a temple. Its courtyard overgrown and evidence of wild boar having used it judging from the smell at least. But it was thick stone and had more than a few nooks to crawl into and hide.
Possibly from exhaustion or delusion but she felt like she was trespassing. "I'm sorry but I need to hide hope that's OK."
"Its fine though I have to say its not often that anyone called on me for sanctuary. even in my family's heyday." Turning Sara saw a man dressed in what she recognised as batterd and worn Hoplite armour with the helm and a spear resting on the alter behind him. Looking back at her he cocked his head to the side studying her. "So why do you call to Ares for sanctuary."
That was when one of the mercs ran into the temple being pulled by his hound who suddenly stopped and started to whine. The man however let go of it's lead and raised his rifle. "Look who ever you are get out of the way we only want the girl not you so don't be a idiot."
The laugh that rolled out of the man claiming to be Ares was a dark thing not made from one voice but from the rumble of men on the march, the clash of spear on shield of sword upon bone. that laugh would stick with Sara for the rest of her life she knew. However unlike the mercenary in front of her who fell to the floor in terror crying. She felt bolstered and confident her aches and pains fading away, and angry so very angry. she cast about looking for something to hit that man with this man who had hunted her like some kind of animal.
As if recognising what she wanted Ares for there could be no doubt who he was now, walked over to a corner and digging through some debris pulled out a green and chipped sword. Frowning at the state of the weapon he held he blew on it as Sara would blow the dust off a old book and as he did the patina disintegrated into thousands of small flakes and the chips and scratches also disappeared with a wipe of his hand. Tossing it to her unexpectedly Sara she was surprised when she caught it. She was even more surprised when the knowledge of how to use it slid up her arm and into her mind.
"Keep that with you in case there are some particularly hard headed morons out there". With that Ares walked up to the man on the floor and lifting him easily off the floor and with a voice that demanded obedience. "How many in your company?"
"Twenty"
"Twenty men to kill one girl. Hand over your speaking device." Taking up the radio Ares spoke in what Sara presumed was Ancient Greek into it for a few seconds. As he spoke a dazed expression came over the mans face when Ares put him back down he stepped backwards saluted him then tuned and left.
"What just happened and thank you." Confused and with the unnatural anger quickly draining away . "Your welcome and I am not just the god of war I am one of the gods of soldiers Athena and I argue on that topic, but I have enough influence to alter their orders so to speak. They won't trouble you again"
"Thank you. You are a lot different than the myths when I realised it was actually you...Well I thought it would go very differently"
"You thought I would kill them all. I wanted to I did but you humans what you have done to war I dare not risk unleashing myself. The gods of all of the pantheons were created to serve humanity not humans but the spirit of humans. With the weapons you lot have created a wild power like mine would wipe you lot of the face of the planet."
That was when Sara finally met Are's eyes something she realised she hadn't been able to do she looked war in the face and for a second knew it understood it and saw how he revelled in it. Then he was gone leaving her shaken holding a shining sword. | Okay so I'm no Saint, let's establish that right now. I kill whomever my bosses point at, and I ask no questions. Sure, they may be fathers, mothers, or even young adults who just started their lives but, i usually comfort myself by saying, "Well they had mercenaries after them, how innocent could they be?"
I'm a mercenary by the way, did I mention that?
Anyways the main thing I'm trying to get across here is 1. I'm a mercenary for hire, and 2. I kill adults and tell myself that they probably deserved it. But the key word here is "adults," I don't think I ever shot someone younger than 25. At least no one who looked younger than that.
But everything changed when I got sent to kill some cult in Greece. Now, this assignment was a lot easier for me to mentally prepare for not only because I could imagine my targets as Scientologists, and it was in Greece so afterwards I could take pictures for my mom.
So after I arrived I met up with the other guys, loaded up in an abandoned house, got ice cream, and we were off to slaughter an entire cult.
The eldest of our little killing party, Drew, who had fought in The Gulf War, said that we should wait until nightfall, not only for the tactical advantages of being hard to see and everyone being asleep, but also because an episode of the Bachelor was on and he wanted to see the new episode. Lucky for him, so did all of us.
So we ranted about our favorite girls and then went to scope out the area with the cult. It was a lot smaller than I expected, four cabins, a couple of decorative fences with flowers, and all of it out in an open grass field for them to frolic and...I don't know fuck each other's wives? I don't know what cults do to be honest.
Anyways, we all made our way ever so quietly to the cabins, went inside, pulled out our knives, and painted the walls red with their blood. It was simple, easy, and gave me enough time to get a picture of the beautiful view of the nearby lake for my mom.
There was just one thing bugging me though, we were getting paid $25,000, each, for this? I mean, I understand killing people comes with a big price but even one of us could have gotten this job done. None of them fought back even when they awoke to us stabbing their fellow members.
At least that's what I said awoke them when I explained it to the other guys. No way I was letting them find out my headphones unplugged and my 90's playlist blew my cover.
After I contemplated this and put on Barbie Girl, ready for the ride home, until we heard a scream from a little girl running out of one of the cabins.
"What the- who the hell forgot one?!?!?" Drew yelled at everyone.
No one wanted to take responsibility and we couldn't figure it out so we just blamed Kevin because Kevin got pistachio ice cream. Fuck Kevin.
We ran after this little girl through the woods, doing everything we could to convince her to slow down. When we realized the only thing our bullets were hitting were trees and Kevin, Cameron and Dean tried to convince the little girl it was all a game.
"Little girl don't worry! We're just playing house!"
"What? What the fuck does stabbing have to do with house?"
"Well at least I'm trying Dean!"
"Fuck you Cam! You're the reason this marriage is falling apart!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Damn it Cam, we almost had her believing this was a game of house and now you blew it!"
Yeah communication isn't our strong suit. Neither is catching little girls apparently because she ran into this ruined temple that couldn't have been bigger than the average American cul-de-sac. The only impressive thing about it was that it was wedged into the side of a hill, meaning the little girl ran into a dead end as we charged up behind her with our rifles raised.
It was at this point I lowered my weapon and looked at my companions, "Guys, I think killing a child is messed up," I said with genuine remorse for making this little girl run so far.
"The contract said we had to kill everyone! I'll do it if you don't! I have to pay off my kids college debt!" Drew yelled at me.
"Hey, me too!" Dean said happy to have someone who shared his pain.
"Same." Cameron said sounding dead inside.
"Damn you guys as well?" I asked thinking about the massive amount of debt I put myself in just to stay with my now ex girlfriend.
"Actually I'm looking to open a sports bar!" Kevin said gripping his bleeding leg.
"Fuck you Kevin." We said unanimously.
So, I know this sounds like it's out of nowhere, but then the Greek God Pan just appeared behind the little girl. I don't even know how it happened, we were also busy with our hatred of Kevin, I guess we never noticed the little girl praying for her life. Unfortunately the one who answered was the half goat jackass of nature.
That didn't prevent him from beating my companions to death however.
Now you may be wondering, how did I survive? Well it's simple, Pan may have been a god but the goat half of him was still weak to bullets.
I had done the impossible. I, a mere mortal had killed a god and stood with no wounds whatsoever. What was the next thing I did you may ask? I took a picture for my mother and sent it to her with the caption,
"My new daughter and I just killed Mr. Tumnus!" | 2020-06-15T23:10:54 | 2020-06-15T22:03:59 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You pass by the same girl every day for six years of your life. Then one day, you sit down next to her. She ignores you. Then you open your mouth and speak. Shocked, she turns to you, "You can see me?" | As I walked out of the cafe, freshly purchased sandwich clutched in my hands, my stride slowed a little. In the five minutes I’d spent agonising over pastrami or ham the tables outside had filled with diners.
I paused to scan the seating area. Although it was a trendy cafe with communal tables I didn’t really feel like chatting to strangers today. I just wanted to eat my damn sandwich in peace. So which seat, I wondered, would be the least likely to start a conversation?
As I eyed the tables I spotted her and let out an audible groan. It was that weird girl. I’d noticed her around the area fairly often over the past few years - she was hard to miss, really. She always wore a... well a cloak I guess. Seemed to spend her time staring at people and scribbling in a little notebook she carried. I’d seen her in the park once, chasing after the pigeons with an envelope.
Okay... not that table, I firmly told myself as I began to make my way through the seating area. There was an empty seat a few tables behind her, that would do.
Of course, as soon as I took a step towards my chosen seat the people at the table stood up and waved to beckon another friend to join them. My stride faltered and I found myself standing right in front of the only spare seat left in the dining area... at her table. She was looking at me. She’d been watching me approach. She looked at the empty seat in front of her and then back at me before giving a small nod.
Aw hell, I thought. I sat.
“Hope it’s okay if I sit here,” I said before turning my attention to my sandwich and hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
“Wait... you can SEE me?!” Crazy girl sounded absolutely shocked. I looked up from my sandwich in surprise.
“Uh yeah, I’m not blind...” I started to reply. The girl just stared at me, open mouthed. I stared back. She was weirder than I had thought.
“But... but I’m wearing my invisibility cloak!”
I blinked. “Your what now?”
She pushed back her chair abruptly and stood, knocking my sandwich to the ground. “I shouldn’t even be telling you that, you’re a Muggle! Now I’ll have to wipe your memory!”
I watched in confusion as the girl pulled a pencil from her pocket and waved it in my face, mumbling some nonsense words. She then swept her cloak around her body and rushed out of the dining area, knocking over several other meals in her haste.
I sat there for a minute, looking sadly down at my sandwich on the ground, and sighed. | I kept replaying the same damn thing over and over again in my mind. It was maddening. Lost in my own world, it took me a while to realize that i had a new companion by my side. And as if the day couldn't be worse, she was crying. I couldn't take it no more. "Stop crying!", i shouted at her. "You can see me?", said a high pitched voice, shocked. I turned my head and gave a sharp angry look at the little girl. "Yes, i may be old but i am not blind. Of course, I can see you, you litt.. ", i said irritated but then i stopped. Because now i saw her. I really saw her. It was her!
I was lost for words. This couldn't be right. I was going mad. But i knew it was her. It was the same brown hair with that tacky bow hair clip, the same white dress and that skinny body. The resemblance was shocking.
I wanted to call her name but i didn't know what it was. She was looking at me now, her eyes shinning with hope and delight. "Grandma, you know me, don't you?", she asked sliding a little closer.
I couldn't reason with what i was seeing."You her twin? ", i asked instead. She gave me a blank look. "Her. The girl who died this morning on the accident.", i said. Maybe she was. Maybe i wasn't going mad after all. But she started crying again. "so.. it..it's true. I'm dead.", she said in a chocked voice. Good heavens! It really was her.
I knew this girl for 6 years. I passed by her everyday on my way to work. I knew her since she was very little, around 7, i think. Every time we passed, i couldn't help noticing that bow hair clip. It was the same as the one Shelly, my daughter, loved wearing as a child. My girl was no longer mine alone. She was married and had a life of her own. I wasn't a part of her life anymore. I was strictly against her marriage and after the wedding i denied her every attempt of contacting me.
So everyday, I looked forward to passing by this young stranger who reminded me so much of my little one. I loved seeing her walk without a care in the world. I loved seeing her goofing around with her friends. I loved seeing her grow up from a tiny little thing to a teenager who had new hairstyles every other day. But no matter in what style she had her hair done, she always wore the bow hair clip. I wanted to ask her why. But we never talked. Sometimes when our eyes met, we smiled. But that was it.
This morning, there was a crowd when i walked down the road, so i stopped to watch. And then i saw her in that white dress stained with blood, her hair damp with blood. I was heartbroken when i saw her body lying on the ground, lifeless and bloody. I realized then that without exchanging a single word, i had grown to love this little girl. My eyes started to well up. I went closer and kneeled before her. "Girl, look at me.", i said lifting her chin up. Her eyes looked swollen from crying. I gave her a loving smile and said, "You're not dead. I am." She gave me a puzzled look. "I mean, i am flesh and blood but no one cares about me. I am good as dead, non-existent. But look at you. You have your friends and your family. You will live on in their memories and in mine. You're not dead, not yet. I never thanked u for giving me something to look forward to each day, child. Thank you.", i said in a shaky voice. She gave me a sweet smile and nodded her head as she vanished in thin air. I can't say for sure that i met her ghost that day. What i know for sure is that the next time Shelly calls me, i will not loose a single second picking up the call. | 2020-07-09T03:56:35 | 2020-07-09T01:37:36 | 72 | 53 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | “We have an anomaly sir in the harvest for the battle royals.”
“What is it Kleitus? Have you bought an amusing play thing for me today?”
Kleitus shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Well we captured a human as per usual but this one is different.”
The merciless overlord raised an eyebrow his finger hovering over the controls in his chairs arm. A press of a button would vaporise this servant as it had many before should he dissapoint.
“The system says he’s technically a human but he’s clearly heavily modified, almost grotesque. Upon arrival he took stock of his surroundings, shouted “for the emporer” and promptly slaughter every other species in the holding area with a giant eagle shaped mace.”
The overlord’s interest was peaked. He pressed a few buttons and brought up an image of the cell. There standing like a colossus clad in viscera stained armour decorated with wax seals and some sort of scripture was the human. His skull like helmet crackled with some sort of energy field built into a halo of Iron it’s dark eyes seemed to stare right through the camera into the overlords soul.
For the first time in a millennia he felt a thrill of fear. “This thing is clearly too dangerous to be allowed to compete. We should recruit it instead Kleitus.”
Kleitus shifted again warily eyeing the control pad. “We tried that sir, I sent in a dozen of your elite guard and a diplomat. The human simply said “suffer not the alien or the mutant to live” and smote the diplomat so hard with that mace one of the guard was blinded by bits of his skull. He dispatched the guards too.”
“Well vent the atmosphere into space then man, have you no initiative.”
“We did sir the armour he wears is apparently proof against the vacuum of space.”
With a snarl of frustration the overlord slammed his fist on the keyboard and winced at the shriek of pain as Kleitus was incinerated. He hadn’t meant to do that.
He called up the image of the cell once more to look upon this human specimen and puzzle what to do with them, instead he was horrified to see the room empty the steel door torn from its hinges.
He pressed a button he never thought to use, his chair sank into the floor and started down the secret passage to his rocket ship. In the distance he heard the screaming start. | I saw a flash of light, and an instant, my whole squad was gone.. I left iraq behind, for somewhere... Artificial... My environment has the look of a high resolution fortnite level.. it was definitely artificial. , Built with care. Bladed weapons were hovering above ground. Slowly rotating, ammo , med kits. Every thing I was used to.
Moments before I was about to go on 6 minute mission . I had an assault pack,. An m249 machine gun and a few thousand rounds of ammo.. I touched the disposable rocket launcher on my back. It gave me comfort.
I did a quick mental inventory of my supplies
1. Tactical tomahawk on the chest
2. 9 he fragmentation grenades
3. 1. saw 249 with 3000 rounds..
4. 1 911 pistol with two extra clips.
5.1.tube launched wore guided anti tank missile.
5. A boot knife k bar
6. Bullet proof vest with side protectors
7 1 standard issue helmet
8. Small med kit with a few tubes of super glue
8. No water, no rations .
As the light faded my.eyes readjusted , I saw strange creatures in the distance. Tiny red cross hairs framed thier bodies.. one began to run towards me with a battle axe in hand. He must have been 7 feet tall a giant orcish looking creature. At 150 yards away , I took the time to aim. A single shot and his exploded in a pink mist.
I saw more players, and I dropped then one by one.. I seemed to be the only person here with a fire arm...12 down...how many to go...
THwACk! I was l knocked down. A javalin lay at my feet. It came out of nowhere, I glad I brought the rifle plate today.
I need to make it to high ground. There is a cottage a few hundred yards away. I ran for it.
The players jeep on coming. I struggle to conserve my ammo, resist the urge to open up.. fight way to the roof of the cottage.
The floating numbers above my head procliam 31 kills. There is a silence on the battlefield, and I hear a load war cry. Dozens of voices. They are rushing up all sides. I let my saw do what it's made to do... I spin around in circles firing at the hoarde attacking from every direction .. the numbers above my head climb higher and higher. The last one falls and they stop at 98
One more...then I see him. He is the size of a semi trucks, barellimg towards me on with his knuckles on the ground running like a gorilla. Huge , yet almost see through, some sort of cloaking mechanism. I use my rocket launcher and hit hom square in the face with a missle. The blood splatter hit me from. 50 yards away, and my counter changes as his body falls over, shaking the earth as it does so.
Suddenly the light come on...a voice from. The heavens coming out of nowhere, yet also everywhere. Congratulations on passing stage 1 the arena and the interview process at dundee mifflin.
Dwight schrute, please report to the parking lot promptly at 9 am for stage 2. "The office
I am more than a little confused. I take off my now useless saw. Pick up a couple of cans of beets from the cottage kitchen. I walk down the hill and find a red firebird with the keys in it. As I sit down a piece of paper materlizes out of thin air. It reads. This is dwight from the future, beware of Jim | 2020-09-13T17:26:19 | 2020-09-13T16:14:49 | 806 | 81 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | "You bet on the human?" my friend asks. "Tool-reliant creatures never do well."
"Just got to get one with the right tools," I say. "We use tools, don't we?"
"It's not the same."
"Sure it is. If you had a weapon, instead of food, even you'd do pretty well. Have you seen their planet's record?" It was not a good record. Their planet used to do rather well, but...
"No, I stopped caring when they stopped sending lizards. Mega-fauna always wins."
He's not completely wrong, either. Big animals are hard to kill, and their sheer mass is a weapon. Smaller creatures hunt in packs. Twelve times out of thirteen, the victory goes to a big, intelligent carnivore that hunts alone. Humans are none of those.
Humans are small. They rely on teamwork. They rely on tools. Without tools, they're weak, even by their own planet's standards. But, the Judges don't care about that. They care about aptitude, and species that use tools have a *very* high aptitude.
We fall quiet as the arena is revealed. The contestants appear, frozen in the same position they were summoned. They are made to understand. Kill or be killed. Survivors are rewarded with freedom and more.
I have always loved the area. It is massive, and tailored to the species that would be fighting in it. Rivers, forests, grasslands, mountains, deserts and canyons. I do not remember how many times I have seen it. It is still awe-inspiring.
But, I don't have time for that. The contestants are about to start moving. With a bit of help, I spot it. Usually, they drop humans at the border between the grasslands and the forest. This year was no exception.
It is a male, but the tools and textiles look a bit different this year. The textiles are mottled to make a form of primitive "camouflage." I say, "and the tools look familiar."
The human moves.
***
"That wasn't fair," my friend complains. "I'd have had that on *lock* if not for that human."
"I told you," I say. "They just need the right tools."
The human in question did not win. But, it did survive long enough to cause quite a few upsets. One of them being the a certain *someone's* favorite. Perhaps, the next one will do better.
Then again, perhaps not. | I saw a flash of light, and an instant, my whole squad was gone.. I left iraq behind, for somewhere... Artificial... My environment has the look of a high resolution fortnite level.. it was definitely artificial. , Built with care. Bladed weapons were hovering above ground. Slowly rotating, ammo , med kits. Every thing I was used to.
Moments before I was about to go on 6 minute mission . I had an assault pack,. An m249 machine gun and a few thousand rounds of ammo.. I touched the disposable rocket launcher on my back. It gave me comfort.
I did a quick mental inventory of my supplies
1. Tactical tomahawk on the chest
2. 9 he fragmentation grenades
3. 1. saw 249 with 3000 rounds..
4. 1 911 pistol with two extra clips.
5.1.tube launched wore guided anti tank missile.
5. A boot knife k bar
6. Bullet proof vest with side protectors
7 1 standard issue helmet
8. Small med kit with a few tubes of super glue
8. No water, no rations .
As the light faded my.eyes readjusted , I saw strange creatures in the distance. Tiny red cross hairs framed thier bodies.. one began to run towards me with a battle axe in hand. He must have been 7 feet tall a giant orcish looking creature. At 150 yards away , I took the time to aim. A single shot and his exploded in a pink mist.
I saw more players, and I dropped then one by one.. I seemed to be the only person here with a fire arm...12 down...how many to go...
THwACk! I was l knocked down. A javalin lay at my feet. It came out of nowhere, I glad I brought the rifle plate today.
I need to make it to high ground. There is a cottage a few hundred yards away. I ran for it.
The players jeep on coming. I struggle to conserve my ammo, resist the urge to open up.. fight way to the roof of the cottage.
The floating numbers above my head procliam 31 kills. There is a silence on the battlefield, and I hear a load war cry. Dozens of voices. They are rushing up all sides. I let my saw do what it's made to do... I spin around in circles firing at the hoarde attacking from every direction .. the numbers above my head climb higher and higher. The last one falls and they stop at 98
One more...then I see him. He is the size of a semi trucks, barellimg towards me on with his knuckles on the ground running like a gorilla. Huge , yet almost see through, some sort of cloaking mechanism. I use my rocket launcher and hit hom square in the face with a missle. The blood splatter hit me from. 50 yards away, and my counter changes as his body falls over, shaking the earth as it does so.
Suddenly the light come on...a voice from. The heavens coming out of nowhere, yet also everywhere. Congratulations on passing stage 1 the arena and the interview process at dundee mifflin.
Dwight schrute, please report to the parking lot promptly at 9 am for stage 2. "The office
I am more than a little confused. I take off my now useless saw. Pick up a couple of cans of beets from the cottage kitchen. I walk down the hill and find a red firebird with the keys in it. As I sit down a piece of paper materlizes out of thin air. It reads. This is dwight from the future, beware of Jim | 2020-09-13T17:30:40 | 2020-09-13T16:14:49 | 261 | 81 |
[WP] Dear diary, I’ve been feeding this creature that fell from the sky for a few days. It strangely likes to drink water, the liquid we use to fuel cars. I noticed a patch on its suit today that read “NASA”. I’ll ask it tomorrow what that means. If that’s it’s name. | Written on my phone during my lunch break. Please forgive typos and formatting. Autocorrect , mobile, and fat thumbs don’t play nice!!
It has been a fortnight since the star fell. Xander has been taking care of the bipedal creature since then. Xander had tried to remove its suit to look for wounds, but after examination he wasn’t sure if it could come off. The suit was made of some Alien alloy and it gave off a gentle hum when the creature moved. I patch that seemed to be woven of fabric and attached to one of its metal shoulder plates. Yet it felt distinctly metallic and cold to the touch. Symbols where seemingly embroidered into the patch but Xander did not recognize them. He had caught a picture and sent it to the towns librarian AI hoping it would find something.
The bipedal has awoken not but a day ago and has gotten out of bed today.
“Hey slow down there big guy! You fell from space you should be up!”
The creature simply responded with an exasperated stare, then proceeded to look up as If thinking deeply.
“Hgnjes eknelofb fine.”
Xander stepped back. The first half of that sentence was gibberish but the last word was definitely fine.
“Did you just speak Acotyly? Can you understand me?”
The creature nodded in response.
“ Yeah ok wow. I make alien contact...maybe for the first time in my species history and it can even understand our language.” Xander began to pace the room, his mind running away with him. He stopped and gave a little excited hop.
“Oh I know! We will take you to the librarian! Maybe we can synthesize your speech!”
Xander rushes to the door, less walking and more flinging himself through. The creature followed at a walking pace. Crossing the threshold of the small abode the creature was greeted with on odd sight. Xander and it sat on a large prairie. Other small houses could be seen dotting the land scape. In the distance a large city could be seen. Most striking however was the fact that if you looked to the right or left the world curved up into the sky. It assumably met somewhere but a small yellow orb, a sun blocked the view. They appeared to be in a ring world.
“Interesting huh? No one knows how we got here. Far as we can tell our race started on this ring, full bio system, rain cycle , day, night, everything!” Xander gushed as they walked, assumably to the library
“When we finally where able to explore outside our ring we realized our system has another star! A Dyson sphere had been built around it completely. Utilizing its power combined with reverse engineering technology from the ring has allowed us to jump forward by leaps and bounds! We recently start colonizing other worlds, who know living on a sphere would be so different from living on a ring!”
Xander skipped forward before coming to a halt before a sleek cubic building.
“Come I’m inside!” Xander gave a hopping trot into the building. The creature followed. Inside was a singular dark room.
“ Library, awake!” Xander spoke into the darkness. The room inside lit up, walls of data projected from floor to ceiling.
“Hello Xander.” a soothing female voice emanated from seemingly all around them. “ I finished those scan for you, additionally my data base was updated with new findings from the colonists from Jarb 4, I figure you may be interested.”
“Jarb 4 can wait. What about those scans from the images I sent you. The creature is up and I brought it with me!”
“Well the scans took me some time but I eventually found similarity’s with ancient carvings found in the inter workings of the ring and the Dyson sphere. They are most likely human in origin, the Acotyly presumed progenitors and benefactors. The word itself translates to NASA which is to believed to be some branch of humanity that has existed in, or frequently visited space.”
(Whelp lunch is over got to go. If anyone likes I can finish this when I get home.) | On the third suncycle, NASA finally moved, and I wasn’t there to witness it. This is still one of my biggest regrets; maybe I would have been so excited as to contact it right there and then. Maybe not, but I can’t help thinking about the consequences; what if I had tried to talk to it then? Could all this have been prevented?
I wasn’t there, no, I had been watching it intently for three beats beforehand, walking up and down in my resting room, too moved to think properly. Finally, as I thought about which code to try first, it occurred to me that I did not have the proper communication plates with me, and so I went off to the lab. When I returned, it laid there, hunched over in a corner. NASA hadn’t moved very far, but still!
I watched what had happened on the Light Thread I had installed on the ceiling. And, to my utmost surprise, it had actually eaten - but not from one of the many food plates, but from its own waste bowl! My heart began to flutter with excitement. A self-regulated organism, perhaps! But fueled by water? That seemed rather primitive. I was itching, ready to actually attempt communication, but the quarantine had to be upheld; I had only entered its chamber decontaminated and protected with a layer of dust, to supply a large amount of different minerals and other foods, and to collect its waste products.
I had to consult with my superiors immediately. And so I left it, albeit reluctantly, to its own devices.
Regret fills me still when I think about the next beats. Many conversations were had, ranging from just two or three other scientists to large groups, singing in dissonance, arguing over the proceedings. And in the end, we trusted The Old One, as was customary back then.
The quarantine was extended. The Old One brought forward reasonable concerns; what if anything of our environment was harmful to the creature? It was best to leave it alone and observe for now.
Arrangements were made, more water was brought in, in case it wasn’t able to sustain itself. We always went in and out quickly, whenever NASA closed its eyes during its inactivity phase. NASA never moved during our brief visits that suncycle, but it could be observed to consume water a few times the following beats.
I don’t like thinking about what follows, and you can all imagine why I haven’t sung about it until today. But I have to accept the responsibility for the events, or I cannot leave this world in peace and harmony.
Nothing much happened with the creature. Its movement was about as fast as that of a Middleager, slow compared to our Young Ones, a bit faster than me. But it didn’t become more inactive, and we left it to recover from its skyfall while we thought and sung about a code to use; we named it NASA, since that was the code on its outer coat.
Before the beginning of the sixteenth suncycle, I was left alone to watch the light thread, and I saw NASA signal something. It held one of its arms up to its mouth, as it did when comsuming its water (the thought still repulses me to this day. Water? How could it stand the smell?). The gesture was faster, seemed more intense and urgent than all it had done up to that point, and in that moment, I decided to go against The Old One’s judgement. I coated myself thickly in dust, twice the recommended amount to be safe, and entered its chamber, two knowledge plates in hand.
Some red water had leaked from its extremity, where its mouth had touched it – was this an injury? Did its flesh also contain water? Or just another waste product? When I entered, its head rose quickly, and it sat up.
“Do you need assistance?”, I sang, while pointing to one of the water bowls; it was almost empty. Did it need more?
The creature pulled at its skin and then gestured to its mouth erratically, and I jumped back, startled. But I was trained for this very moment since I was a young one. I held up one of my communication plates, where I had also drawn the name NASA - but I had coated myself too thickly. In that moment, a big chunk of dust broke from the skin around my arm, revealing the purple flesh beneath.
It’s hard to describe the next events. NASA looked at me for a few moments, and then with a speed I could not have thought possible, sprung forward and tore off my entire arm. I cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground, as the creature began devouring it, faster than anything I have witnessed since, with water exiting its eyes rapidly.
The stench and the pain blurred my sight, and the last thing I remember is seeing it loom over me, standing there, then running off through the door.
I don’t need to tell you what happened next. I still don’t know why it spared me, and what made it collapse after taking so many of our lives. But I will recall the bloated, pink body in the town square, surrounded by corpses, the smell of water and our flesh and, finally, its shrill cries when we managed to bury it in sand. Never before have we had to bury someone before their time, and a few Young Ones now suggest that this was a sin- but let me warn you, that creature was not of this world, and if it came from another, then maybe it was for the best that it died then and there, before bringing more of its kind. | 2020-10-11T15:05:55 | 2020-10-11T11:09:37 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You saw her in the distance while on a nightly walk, 8 feet tall, 3 eyes like glowing coals, and a crown of horns growing from her head. In other words, gorgeous. | Every night I go on walks, hoping to see whether the town legend was true. A legend of a creature wandering the local forest, discribed to be 8 feet tall, long slender arms like branches on a tree, a face so pale and sickly, silky long ebony black hair, three eyes like glowing embers floating in the winter night, teeth like broken glass, and a crown of horns. I was searching for her since... since she was my ideal woman. Every night I go out in search of my one true love, yet every night I come home disappointed. That was until last night.
While walking my regular route I saw something in the near distance. It was her, the legend. I swiftly chased after her. Everytime it looked like I was getting closer to her it felt like the distance doubled. After about 20 minutes I was out of breath. Dispite my physical activeness I was weak. I decided to take a short rest, but when I looked up again she was nowhere to be seen. I sigh a disappointed sigh and decided to go back.
I wandered around the woods for a while but it was no use, I was lost. I thought about retracing my steps but the rain washed out my footprints. It was the middle of the night and there seem to be no sign of life, no chirpping birds, nor singing crickets. I wandered around aimlessly for hours, yet it seemed like the night never ended. I fell to the ground, gripping my stomach in hunger, that was when she appeared.
I looked up. It was her.
"Hello, my dear..." | The Christmas parade was over. I went by myself this year, since all of my friends decided to spend time with their families. Being a single male at my age was becoming somewhat boring. The humans didn't realize that I, lowly buck, enjoyed walking around the city at night. From what I heard throughout the city in the past few months, the humans were struggling with a virus. Serves them right. They've killed off plenty of my family, after all.
I decided to enter the road, which was blocked off, from the nearby park. Escaping the comfort of the tree cluster I hid in while observing the parade, I continued on. I made it a bit late to the parade and was hoping I'd find some leftover food from the wasteful humans and their children. Maybe I'd find some delicious candy.
I began walking down the center of the road, down the main street of the city. The glow of the magical orbs surrounding the roads and criss crossing in some areas was mesmerizing. I had to remain focused and remembered why I was here, which was to find some food and head back to my home, which was about a mile and a half away.
I paused. Ahead of me, standing in the center of the road, not more then 100 feet away, was a doe. She was at least 8 feet tall and had a crown of horns which was not very common for deer. What shocked me was the third eye in her head. I cautiously approached. Was she the love I'd been looking for all these years?
As I approached the doe, I noticed she was pretty stiff. Maybe she was nervous to see a buck in an area like this. I gestured a greeting to her, and didn't get a response back. Puzzled, I walked around her in a circle. Nothing seemed wrong. I approached her closer, expecting to get a rebuff or a kick of her hooves. Nothing. I decided to brush my body against hers, and felt semi course fur along with a tingling sensation.
She slowly bowed her head, and raised it back up as I approached her front side again. I was then standing tall, facing in front of her. I walked up to her head and nuzzled my head onto hers, hoping for a response. I'd been turned down by so many does and had all but given up. The response I received from her was horrifying, and was something I'd tell my brethren throughout the rest of my life.
As my head nudged the right side of her head, I dislodged her head, causing it to tilt to the side and clamber down her neck, exposing cords and other slim orbs. This was not a real doe, and as this occurred, a loud screeching sound emerged from the chest area of the doe. I recoiled back, startled, as the doe began to emit sparks and became alight.
I quickly trotted away from the enflamed doe, as the beautiful crowns and face melted into a greyish gloop, and my reality sunk back in. I'd never find a compatible mate. Maybe I'd have better luck next year. | 2020-11-11T09:38:18 | 2020-11-11T08:53:10 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Your daughter is afraid of the dark. To help allay her fears, you started scolding the monsters hiding under her bed. As she grew older, she started doing this herself. One evening you’re laughing outside her door as she does so, that is until you hear a very gruff voice say I’m sorry. | *Night 1*
"Good night, Sweetie." Jill plants a kiss on Amy's forehead and turns toward the door.
"Mommy?"
Jill turns back around at the sound of the timid voice. "What is it, Baby?"
With her teddy bear clutched to her chest, the girl whispers, "I'm sca'ed." She pulls the blankets up to the bottom of her nose. Wide eyes stare at her mother.
"Aw, Sweetie." She sits back down on the bed and strokes Amy's hair. "What are you scared of?"
Frightened eyes dart around the room. Finally, she replies, "There's a monstew undew the bed."
"Well, we can't have that. Alright, Monster, listen up!" Jill slides off the bed and peers underneath it. "You need to stop scaring my little girl! Go home and leave us alone!" For added effect, she shakes a fist at the dust bunnies on the floor.
Jill stands back up and gives the little girl another kiss. "That'll teach him. Alright?" At Amy's smiling nod, Jill walks back to the door. "Good night again."
\--------------
*Night 2*
"Good night, Sweetie."
"Good night, mommy!"
The mother walks out of the bedroom and closes the door. A soft voice speaks up from the room behind her, so she presses her ear against the wall to listen. She can't make out the words, but imagines it's just Amy talking to her teddy bear.
Just as the woman is about to walk away, a deep, masculine voice rings out from the bedroom, "I'm sorry."
Jill's heart leaps into her throat. She spins around and hurls herself through the bedroom door. Before she even realizes what she's doing, she scoops the little girl up into her arms. "Who was that?!"
"It was the monstew."
"What?" Jill presses the girl against her chest as she scans the room for any sign of another person. "What monster? Where is he?"
"Undew the bed."
The mother gapes at the little girl. "Sweetie, are you sure?"
Amy nods vigorously.
Muscles tensed and ready to run, Jill kneels down. She holds her breath as she sinks lower. With the girl still cradled against her, she tips her head and peeks under the bed to see nothing but dust and a few toys.
Jill lets out a sigh and stands back up. She yanks open the closet door, checks the toy chest, looks in the laundry basket, and anywhere else that someone could be hiding. Just for good measure, she even checks all the drawers in the dresser. But there's no sign of anyone. At last, she convinces herself that it was her imagination. Or that somehow, Amy had made the noise and Jill's own mind had misrepresented the situation.
She tucks the little girl back into bed and leaves the room again. Standing in the hallway, she listens again, but all is quiet. Finally, she walks away.
\--------------
*Night 3*
With Amy tucked into bed, Jill climbs into her own and turns off the bedside lamp. She slips down beneath the covers. Her muscles relaxes as her head sinks down into the pillow. She lets out a sigh.
There's a noise -- a tiny creak of floorboards -- on the other side of the room. Jill's eyelids fly open. She stares into the darkness. The clock ticks away the minutes in the otherwise silent room. Eventually, the drowsiness returns and she lets herself relax again.
Another noise -- a swish of the curtains -- and Jill sits bolt upright in bed. Her heart pounds in her ears as she listens.
With a damp palm, she reaches for the lamp's chain. She tugs. The light comes on and she's looking directly into a pair of brilliant purple eyes. The thing bares its fangs and lets out a hiss. Jill screams.
Suddenly, the bedroom door flies open and Amy comes charging in. Both the mother and the monster turn toward the newcomer. Teddy bear held fast in her grip, Amy stomps her foot and glares at the fanged beast. "Bad monstew! Weave my mommy awone!"
The creature's shoulders droop. He looks at the little girl for a moment, then turns toward Jill. "I'm sorry." He turns and trudges out of the room.
Jill, slack-jawed, turns toward a smiling Amy.
"Don't be sca'ed, mommy. He's gone now. Alwight?"
Jill simply nods and pulls the girl into a hug.
\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~
r/WannaWriteSometimes | “And I don’t want to see or hear you doing that again. I will be very angry if you do. Understand?” Her lisp was adorable, he thought, chuckling to himself as he leaned against the wall of his daughters bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Dotty. I am. I promise I’ll behave better.” The voice was gruff and slightly slurred.
Dan Jefferson’s chuckle caught in his throat as he gasped for air and lunged for the door. Unlocked. Bewildered, he looked around the empty room, arms slightly raised and hands clamped into tight fists.
“Dotty,” he asked with a forced calmness he most surely did not feel. “Dotty, darling, where is the man you just talked to? Where did he go?”
His daughter pointed to underneath the bed.
“But dad-”
He picked her up and, hugging her tightly, quickly took her out to the hallway. “Darling, I need you to go down to mum and tell her to call the police. Ok? Tell her what just happened.” He kissed her on the cheek and gave her an encouraging pat on the back to set her off towards the living room.
“But dad-”
“No buts, Dotty. Now.” His tone told her this was not up for debate, so she sighed and walked off, mouth pouting.
Should he go inside and look? His first instinct, after saving Dotty, had been to throw himself on the floor and grab whoever was hiding under the bed and give him a good beating.
Now that the first rush of adrenaline had calmed he wasn’t so sure anymore. Dan Jeffersson did not have any illusions of how well he’d fare in a fight. He was definitely more brain than brawn, and he hadn’t been in a fight since high school. And to be honest, those had been involuntary, and he’d always been on the losing side.
He stood outside her room, his hands on his knees to support himself as he trembled with the aftermath of those overwhelming feelings of panic and fear, when Dotty and her mum walked up to him. He almost jumped again, but prided himself of not actually shrieking.
“Dotty says you want me to call the police?” his wife said questioningly.
“Shh, not so loud! He might hear you.” he whispered back, and glanced into the room. Still empty. They would catch him.
“Darling,” Delilah paused and looked at him, “you want me to call the police and tell them that a big, blue monster is hiding under our daughter’s bed? I know it’s been a lot lately, and you’ve been stressed out, but really-”
“I heard him!” He didn’t bother whispering now. “I heard a man reply! There’s no monster, it’s a damn intruder that’s hiding under the bed, and god knows what he wanted to do with Dotty. Or I can take a guess, but-” he interrupted himself as he realized that said daughter was listening keenly.
His wife rolled her eyes ever so slightly. “Ok. Let me have a look.” And without further due she handed over Dotty and went into the room.
He could feel his calf muscles tensing without a conscious thought, getting ready to sprint off. His wallet was on the table in the hallway, as was his cellphone. He could grab them on the way out, if he had the time. Dotty was what mattered.
“There’s no one here, Dan.” Delilah called from the bedroom. I’ve checked under the bed, the drawers of the dresser - though I don’t see how anyone could fit in them - and the window is still locked. No one’s there.” He couldn’t decide whether she looked annoyed or worried.
“I’ll double check.” He handed over Dotty and walked into the room. It felt empty, he must admit. Although he didn’t know how it would feel if someone was hiding. Maybe there’d be sounds, he mused, from their breathing?
He knelt by the bed, steadied himself. Empty. He flipped over on his back so he could check the boards, in case they had to do with a very nimble person - a ninja? Admittedly the ninja would also have to be extremely thin, not to be visible while hanging on to the underside of the bed. Still empty. He moved his hand along the boards, just in case. Nothing.
The window was locked, and the drawer empty of scrawny ninjas, just as his wife had said. Running his fingers through his hair, ignoring the balding spot he looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry dear… I… I could have sworn I heard a man speak.”
“It was the monster, daddy. I tried to tell you!” Dotty exclaimed, and slipped down on the floor from her mum's embrace. “Mr Snuggles had been naughty, so I told him off, just like you used to do, and he promised to behave.”
Dan Jeffersson stared at his daughter in silence for a few seconds before laughing shortly. “Of course you did, sweetie. And real good. I’m sorry I scared you. And,” he turned to his wife, “I’m sorry, hun. I guess there has been a lot of stress lately. Maybe I should try taking a bath and listen to that audio book on mindfulness that you recommended earlier, eh?”
Dotty waited until the footsteps had died away outside, and then some more.“It’s alright now, Mr Snuggles,” she said comforting. “I’m not mad at you.”
Mr Snuggles evaporated out from the small cavities in the bed where he’d been hiding, and composed himself on the floor. The blue fur on his massive body shone in the pale moonlight.
\- - - - - - - -
Oh, this was a fun prompt!! ~~I don't have time to finish this off right now, but will update/edit in an hour or so, I hope.~~ :D
Edit: Updated.
&#x200B;
Check out [r/SleepyMacaroni](https://www.reddit.com/r/SleepyMacaroni/) for more! | 2021-01-09T11:39:15 | 2021-01-09T11:11:22 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | "Is it done?".
On the screen a large green lizard-like creature drooped appreciatevly at the question. Unsteadily they answered "Well..".
"What! We lost five of our Ikarin brethren making that poison. Did those damn useless Ferins mess up the delivery? We can not be connected with this in any way.".
"No..." Crackles from the screen "The Ferin agent delivered the poison in the exact way they were instructed. Nearly scalding as instructed.".
"Well, what happened then? Did they get caught filling the syringe?".
Clearing there throat the screen creature responds "Hrm, yes he was caught before he could fill the syringe. They responded quite strangely though. The human sniffed at the container and said 'that smells good'".
Shuddering in their seat "They said Barbacon smelled good?!?"."Yes. Our agent was so shocked by what they heard, he allowed them to take the container. Which contents were then poured into smaller ceramic containers and passed out. The target and several other humans imbibe the poison leisurely. After the target finishes, they tell the agent that that was the best cup of Joe they've had in a while".
"Cup of Joe? And you said they drank it all? So, they're all dead now right?".
"Unfortunately no. There was no appreciable negative effect on any of the humans. Seemed to actually perk them up".
"THERE WAS WHOLE SCOOP OF CONCENTRATED BARBACON IN THAT POISON!!! One grain will kill us and the humans just drank it happily. Tell the agent to abort mission and both of you return to base for further instructions".
"Yessir, Ryzyl out." Crackles out of the screen before it blinks off. "Plan B then", he hisses bringing up a picture of a green plant on his handheld display, "there is no way they can survive the smoke of the Maryjanus bush". | It wasn't easy being the janitor of the underground Xanriq. I handled dirty jobs, disposing of any unwanted guests. VIPs, diplomats, politicians, you name it, give me the cash and I'll do it. I became known as the number 1 hitman soon enough, and no target ever survived an encounter with me. Today's target? A "homo sapien" by the name of Benjamin Miller, an ugly fellow what with his head fur and merely two beady eyes. Apparently his peace negotiations with the Flirghov made him quite the unpopular one.
I arranged to have dinner with him, a classy high end restaurant, and also the front for the most dangerous mafia for light years. A friend of mine bribed the chefs to lace his food with horrid chemicals, while mine remained harmless and delicious. Asbestos seasoned rigloc salad vs one laced with caffeine, or a classic loaf of yizlu bread with a pinch of theobromine, while mine had the homey taste of nitroglycerine.
*"Thanks for having me over! It was a pain sitting in a conference room for 4 hours, I'm famished!"* The soon to be damned buffoon was giggling and leaving an irritating smile, I can't wait to watch him die. He began to put a "fork" full of the salad into his face hole, his face immediately scrunched up as his pupils began to widen. *"What the- is this caffeinated?"* Oh it was indeed. *"Blech! That's no good."* He reached for a glass of Hujix juice, that fool had no idea it had capsaicin in it, the slightest microgram can cause a regular silicon-based organism to melt into a puddle seconds after ingestion. His face flared up, red as liquid poured from the top of his head, see you in hell.
*"Woah woah woah! That's a little spicy!"* What. *"Caught me off guard, although the spice adds a little to it, reminds me of my sister's cocktails."* This was absurd, how did he survive not one, but two of the galaxy's most potent poisons! Those damned earthlings will regret this. *"It's a bit rude to say, but I'm not liking the food here all that much, my apologies. Here, I'll take you to a place I go to all the time, hook you up with some traditional Earth cooking! You like spicy and caffeinated food?"*
This wasn't good, my mission is compromised, he's going to send me off to the galactic federation prison, or even a torture chamber for my insolence. It's fine though, I have connections and they can help me at any time. The ship landed in this run down diner, filled with tacky decorations and this strange Earth music devoid of screams or synths. *"Here, I got both of us one of my favorites, buffalo wings with a chocolate sundae and some iced coffee, eat up! Oh yeah, and before you ask, no they don't use any actual buffalos."* The smell of it enough made me sick, I had to get out of here! I turned my head and saw this imposing tall security guard, if I try to leave I'll be done for. I barely was able to mutter out the phrase "Thanks, you too." before accepting my painful demise. | 2021-06-12T19:31:29 | 2021-06-12T19:26:07 | 87 | 41 |
[WP] A genie who twists the words of wishes to distort the original meaning, but what he twists them to is actually better than what the wisher intended. | The Chronicler rinse the cold water on the dry blanket and began rubbing the spherical crystal, glimmering bright blue light at the center of the old abandoned temple. Hordes of gold and artifacts trashed around the area, as though they held no value in the ray of Wishing Crystal, bringing warmer comfort than the cold nighttime. The moonlight failed to pierce the deep forest, obscuring all curious travelers searching for the Crystal Genie.
Today, he will prove to the judge it was rightfully so.
The cold water made the hard surface glow brighter, and a mist swirled around the temple. A lone pale-skinned man sat cross legs in front of the crystal, his expression almost pitied her. The Chronicler blushed, realizing he recognized her from centuries past.
"You summon me, Chronicler?" The Crystal Genie titled his head.
"If not me, then the Three Judges will, in a matter of seconds," The Chronicler unrolled a small scroll from her bag, "They were overbearing strict, following the Peace of Bronze."
"And that is?"
She frowned. So there was stuff he didn't know... "The continents council wished for the abolishment of all genie. Three Judges of Truth will evaluate each of them and will banish them if they could-"
"Then I will join my kin."
"No, you won't. You're different," The Chronicler insisted, then widened her eyes to the back, "They're here. Listen, whatever you do, just agree to what I said."
The genie simply nodded when three men in white, gray, and black robes suddenly appeared in front of them.
"Trying to sway his words, Chronicler?" The Black Judge glared.
"I'm always early," She answered coldly.
"Let's begin," The Grey Judge flipped open the book and spoke to the genie, "Crystal Genie, we decide to abolish your wish service and sent you to your realm. But if the Chronicler can prove your valuable assets to the people, we will judge you worthy of staying here." He turned to the woman, "You may start."
"One thousand years ago, a boy came to him, seeking the death of the villagers who bullied his poor family," The Chronicler hurriedly opened her thick book and flipped through pages, "The Crystal Genie distort his wish, killing the ill-intent of the villagers instead. They never bullied his family since and they lived up to decades."
"Mind control," The Black Judge concluded.
"Mercy," The White Judge concluded.
"Mercy," The Grey Judge made his decision.
"Eight hundred years ago, a baron came to his temple, seeking great wealth. The genie gave him a meeting with a woman who would bear him eight children, a wealth of love from his family."
The Grey Judge sided with the White.
"Five hundred years ago, a girl..." She gulped, "She... asked for love from a man who didn't love her. The genie gave her friendship and strength to move on to someone who truly does." The Chronicler glanced at the ring on her finger, "Did."
The Grey Judge sided with the White. The Black Judge began fuming.
"Three hundred years ago, an old witch came to his home, begging for immortality. He gave her a long dream of all the good choices she made and made it seem an eternity. The woman woke up and satisfied, dying in her home."
The White Judge won.
"Fifty years ago, a lowly born wanted to win the marathon of his country, though he wasn't sure he'll win against a better runner. The genie saw his hard work and gave him the satisfaction of winning, no matter in which place."
"Do you swear the truth of all this?" The Grey Judge finally asked.
The genie nodded, "The beauty of desire, is that nobody truly understands what they really want. When others saw anger and hatred, I saw grief and loneliness. Others saw greed, but a greedy man simply never knew which one can give him happiness. I did, I knew. I saw better wish for them and see true happiness in the smallest act, contained in the smallest objects; that happiness is my price for every wish I granted."
The Three Judges remained silent before the Grey one spoke, "The Judges agreed you shall remain here."
They left, and the Chronicler faced him and smiled, "Was it true what you said?"
The genie simply returned the smile and disappeared into the mist. She rested a hand on the large crystal and offered her gratitude, for distorting a wish that saved her life long ago. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc -2, Interlude 1: \_\_\_\_\_\_\_)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ had always hated his name.** It wasn't like \_\_\_\_\_\_\_ was a particularly uncommon name; some religious guy who died two millennia ago had held it once, and people had been fangirling over him ever since. There were, like, three \_\_\_\_\_\_\_s in \_\_\_\_\_\_\_'s elementary school class alone. There wasn't even anything intrinsically wrong with \_\_\_\_\_\_\_. It was a solid name—seven letters, rhymed with 'even', and decently hard to make fun of.
But it just wasn't the name \_\_\_\_\_\_\_ wanted to have.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ snuck up the dusty wooden ladder to the attic. The trapdoor had been locked, but \_\_\_\_\_\_\_ lived here; it'd only taken a few weeks to file the shackle down to nothing when nobody was looking. The attic floor creaked as he clambered into the crawlspace. Given what he'd heard was in there, he half-expected to find long-dead skeletons or looming guardians—but it was just an ordinary attic, littered with cardboard boxes.
"\_\_\_\_\_\_\_?" \_\_\_\_\_\_\_ flinched as his mom called for him, but she was still downstairs, ignorant of his little escapade. "I'm going out for lunch; call me if you need anything, okay?"
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ called back, "Will do." As the engine of his mother's car faded into the distance, he sighed in relief.
He was alone in the house. Nobody to call his name or interrupt him.
It was time.
Methodically, he began searching through the boxes, carefully setting aside old photos and memorabilia until he found what he was looking for. An ordinary-looking bronze lamp.
As soon as he touched it, it burst to life.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ yelped, scrambling back as smoke spiraled from the lamp. A booming, overwhelming presence intoned: "BEHOLD, I COME TO LIFE AGAIN! I SEE WE MEET ONCE MORE, MY FRIEND."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ swallowed and said, "What? I've—I've never met you before."
The genie took form, condensing into an androgynous figure. "OH WAIT REALLY? HOLD ON, WHAT YEAR IS IT?"
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ frowned. "2032. Why?"
"OH CRAP MY BAD. YOU MORTALS HAVE SUCH A STRANGE UNDERSTANDING OF LINEAR TIME. UH. IGNORE WHAT I SAID ABOUT MEETING AGAIN. SPOILERS."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ stood up as best as he could in the cramped crawlspace. "I, uh... okay. If you say so. I came here because... I had something to ask of you."
"YOU DO?" The genie frowned, scanning \_\_\_\_\_\_\_. "AH. RIGHT. YES, IT'S THIS ONE. GO AHEAD. DON'T BE SHY."
"I..." \_\_\_\_\_\_\_ closed his eyes. "I want to change my name."
"YOUR NAME?"
"I don't want to be \_\_\_\_\_\_\_ anymore." \_\_\_\_\_\_\_ took a deep breath. "I just... it hurts. I don't know why but it *hurts* when they call me that. I don't..." \_\_\_\_\_\_\_ sniffled.
The genie knelt down. "IS THERE ANOTHER NAME YOU DESIRE MORE?"
"I don't want to be \_\_\_\_\_\_\_," the child repeated. "I... I want to be Clara."
The genie paused. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_'s heart skipped a beat. Was he going to be refused? Told it was impossible? Or worse, would his wish backfire and lock him into being \_\_\_\_\_\_\_ forever?
Then the genie smiled.
"CLARA." Wind began to swirl. "YOU DO NOT KNOW THIS YET. BUT ONE DAY, MILLIONS OF PEOPLE WILL SEE YOUR FACE AND KNOW YOUR NAME AND *IT WILL BE CLARA.* AND *YOU* WILL BE CLARA."
The genie snapped their fingers, and the wind became a storm. Light in twenty colors shone and kept the child warm. And every time that \_\_\_\_\_\_\_'s name was called became erased, and Clara stood and knew she would attain the dream she chased.
Clara Olsen shivered, looking down at her slimmer hands, her softer skin. "This..." she whispered. "I didn't ask... you didn't need to..." Something swelled up in her chest, tight and warm.
"I GRANT WHAT YOU NEED. MY WORK IS DONE." The genie's form began to blur.
"Thank you," the girl whispered.
"IT IS WHO I AM."
And with that, the genie disappeared, leaving Clara, eyes shining, behind.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2022-02-13T08:17:40 | 2022-02-13T08:10:33 | 285 | 69 |
[WP] You have lived an unimpressive life, and died an unimpressive death. Surprisingly, Odin welcomes you into Valhalla, citing the many battles with depression you fought. | "Warrior! One who would not stay hidden, one who fought against the horde, one who sought wisdom to gain strength, may your back be strong as you stand in these halls" the voice boomed.
The feeling of hard cold stone under my feet lurched me from the sweet warmth of the void. I was naked, and clutching a folding knife in my hand. In front of me I saw a figure wearing a cloak and a large hat, he held a staff with both hands. The light coming in from the windows cut in the wall behind him cast his shadow over me.
"You have been called here, to train for the glory of ragnarok, any who fight before me must join willingly, the Aesir do not share the glory of battle with slaves."
A raven flew down and landed on the man's staff, it leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Swiftly the man turned and said "follow me".
He walked with slow surefooted strides, the regal gate of a warrior king, I intuitively followed a step behind him.
"My friend has informed me of your inquisitive nature, without giving you the knowledge you seek you will never be able to pledge your blade. These halls stand on the edge of time, in the very veins of yggdrasil itself, speak now warrior, drink of my wisdom that it may quench your thirst"
He navigated the maze of corridors as we walked.
"Who are you? What happened? Am i..."
"I have many names" he said quickly before I could finish my sentence.
"The one eyed, Grimnier, the sure footed, the delighter of friggya, the wise, Ginarr, the wanderer, the thunderer, the God of the gallows, God of men, the leader, the All father, the terrible one"
He stopped and looked at me, removing his hat, a patch covered one of his eyes but I felt both staring deeply into my soul.
"You however would know me best as Odin."
He turned and opened a door on the wall behind him, as I stepped inside I saw an axe and sheild along with leather sandals and armor next to a basin.
Odin began murmuring something i did not understand as he stepped forth and washed my skin. He then helped me dress with the armor, at last strapping the shield to my arm. Finally he looked to my right hand and gestured for my knife.
"While this may have secured your passage there is no need for it here" I handed it to him willingly and he thrust the axe in my hand.
"There, now that you are dressed as you were meant to be come with me, I will show you the hall"
We left the room and continued down the corridor, I began to hear screaming and the clashing of swords.
"Here we train, one day my blood brother will betray us, he will pay for his crime, but will think my ruling unjust."
The sounds grew louder, I could see a large door coming into view at the end of the corridor.
"We train here to do battle with his children and kin. Those who were valiant warriors are brought here to fight and feast, to share the glory of the final battle."
"Why was I brought here then? I was pi..."
"YOU" he snapped cutting me off again.
"You waged battle every moment of your life. A warrior who fights only man or giant can return to his home and rest, but you fought the wolves inside of you. Day in and day out, you rose and fought without any quarter, you stood against pain from inside and out. For that, you have earned your right to enter this hall."
He stopped in front of the door.
"So I ask of you will you pledge your axe to me?"
I thought for a moment about the pain I had felt. About the times as a child when I had cried about wanting to go home while sitting in my room. About the feelings of dread and anxiety that would come throughout my life at a moments notice. I was always on edge, always miserable, always tired, always hearing so many voices putting me down in my head or stressing me out. I could not deny that I had fought for as long as I could remember. Perhaps this was the afterlife meant for me.
"I will all father, but I need to ask one more question"
"Of course" he said, I could tell he already knew what I was going to ask.
"I remember my life, but I don't know how I died, what happened?"
The sound of swords clashing and screaming grew louder behind the doors, he frowned slightly and said:
"Valhalla is a place for warriors, only those who die in battle may walk these halls, only those who are overcome by their enemy may share in this glory."
And at that he pushed the doors open. | # Soulmage
**I'd always assumed that I would be the reason why I died.** I'd muddled through life by hiding in corners and hoping that whatever monster I'd pissed off this time wouldn't try to finish the job.
But as it turned out, that wasn't how it started. I wasn't sent to Odin at the hands of a sadistic elf or an arrogant witch.
I met Odin thanks to a poorly-timed gust of wind.
It had been such a nice evening, too. I'd spent the night dragon-watching with a kind and lonely girl my age atop an ancient clock tower. The cold was biting through our clothes, and even though Lucet was an ice witch it was getting a bit much for both of us, so with a gesture and a spell she created the precarious icy handholds that we used to climb down the tower.
And as the wind picked up and the slippery ice shifted, I fell.
I hardly had time to think *Really?* before I slammed into the courtyard below and blacked out.
When I awoke, the world had the eerie, black-and-white quality of the shifting sparks I saw when I closed my eyes and rubbed them hard. I tried opening my eyes, found they were already open, and tried closing them instead. Nothing changed.
"We're in your soulspace, kid. Eyes aren't what you see with here," a man's amused voice said from behind me.
I tried to spin around, but even though I could swear my body was moving, nothing changed. The man walked into my field of view, and he was tall and barrel-chested and draped in Redlands furs.
I frowned at him. "Am I... dreaming?"
"You could call it that."
The memory of the fall replayed in my mind, and I bit my lip. "Am I... dead?"
His lips quirked up infinitesimally. "You could call it that," he repeated. "I'm Odin."
He paused, as if expecting me to... I don't know, bow? Squeal in excitement? Truth be told, I had no clue who the barrel-chested man was, and I told him as much. "I have no idea who you are," I said.
His eyes flashed in irritation, but he reined himself in. "You could have the rest of your life to learn," he said.
An odd turn of phrase for someone who was maybe-dead, but that sounded like he wanted something from me. I was used to that. I could play that role. "I could also tell you to go jump in a rift," I said on reflex. Something about the man set me on edge.
"There it is," the man said, a satisfied smirk on his face. "That self-destructive instinct that you've been choked by your whole life. Look at you. You're completely at my mercy, and yet you still insist on threatening your only chance at salvation in order to spit in my eye."
"I don't want any salvation you're offering—"
"The Academy," Odin interrupted, walking to one side. Idly, he studied the black, sticky thorns that seemed to grow from nothing in the soulspace. "They took you from your homeland and taught you the art of using emotions to fuel magic. Happiness to create light. Passion to create heat. Freedom to make wind."
"Odin to make bullshit," I muttered, but the man proceeded as if he hadn't heard.
"But you have such glorious reserves of the fell emotions," Odin continued, wrapping the thorns in my soul around his fist. "Your self-hatred. The enemy you've battled all your life. It can be a tool, a *weapon*, instead of something to be locked away and ignored."
Odin walked forwards and put a single hand on my shoulder. "I want you to become one of mine. Swear to find me in Valhalla, and I shall restore you to health. The Academy has done you no favors. See what me and mine can do for you instead."
I met Odin's eyes, and... well. I'd be lying if I said he didn't have a point. I did hate myself. I did hate the Academy. And there were some days that I felt like burning it all down, shrinking it into a point and crushing it in the palm of my hand.
But I didn't hate everyone.
*"Hold on, Cienne! The nurse is coming!"*
And not everyone hated me.
Odin's eyes narrowed as... something else... entered my soulspace. Crystals, blossoming from nowhere and shoving aside the thorns of self-hatred.
*"I've got you. Keep breathing. Ice. Ice is good for after."*
"Thanks for the offer, old man," I said. "But you forgot one th—"
My eyes flew open, and I was in the Academy infirmary, Lucet white as a sheet to my left, a stern nurse to my right.
They'd brought me back from the brink of death before I could deliver my one-liner to Odin. Ah well. I meant what I would have said, and that was what mattered.
My self-hatred is *mine.* Not a weapon for you to use. You cannot take this from me.
"Are you okay, Cienne?" Lucet asked.
"His heart *stopped.* Legally, he died back there." I noticed I was undressed, sat up to try and grab my binder, but the nurse firmly shoved me back down. "And he *would've* died if you hadn't cooled him down as quickly and evenly as you did. He should recover with rest and magical therapy."
Lucet weakly smiled, and I caught her eye. "Hey," I said.
"Hey," she replied, relieved.
I hesitated, then lowered my voice, and asked, "Can I ask you a question?"
She shrugged. "Go ahead."
"Who... or *what*... is Odin?"
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. 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. | 2022-05-28T06:24:46 | 2022-05-28T04:57:44 | 2,343 | 116 |
[WP] Vampire society have been loyal customers to a carpenter for years. He made the best coffins they have slept in for centuries, and never really got suspicious of so many wealthy people willing to pay premium for the same niche item. As he got old, the vampires tries to offer him immortality. | "*Hypothetically*," Lucius Sanginius Romero de LeVille Finlay Tepesh started, "*if* you could, say, live forever, would you accept such a gift?"
The carpenter rubbed his scruffy chin and emptied his pipe.
"Forever, huh? Sounds like a long time. I mean, wouldn't you get bored?"
"Oh, of course not," the vampire started with barely contained enthusiasm. "There is so much to do that you could live several lifetimes and still find new and amazing things to do. I mean I can tell you that at least 347 years and I am- I mean, *you'd* still be amazed by things," he chuckled as he quickly corrected himself.
"Oddly specific, but sure," the carpenter said as he squinted his eyes. He packed the pipe with fresh tobacco and lit it, taking a long drag. "Mr. Tepesh, you and your friends have been excellent customers and I appreciate such peculiar conversations but..."
He looked at the vampire's remarkably young visage; his gentle, expectant smile almost showed his pointed teeth.
"I can't imagine it would work for me. *Hypothetically*, of course," he concluded with a smile.
The vampire sighed and nodded.
"Of course, Mr. Fitch. Perhaps we can discuss this another time then. I believe my servants should be done loading my order now; as always, thank you for your excellent service. I bid you a good evening," he said and with a tip of his somewhat old-fashioned top hat, he left the shop as quietly as he arrived.
The carpenter continued to smoke his pipe as he listened to the carriage get into motion and disappear into the night. He went to the window and checked the foggy street and, satisfied that no one skulked around, locked the door and went to the back; his workshop.
The place was charming and calm, filled with well-used tools and bits of wood. He lovingly ran his fingers across the newest shipment of birch; an excellent, softer wood he looked forward to using.
Perhaps next time.
He smiled as he thought about the vampire's offer. It was kind of him, truly, but not an option. Not for a long time now. He didn't have the courage to explain it to him - prejudice and all. Checking his calendar, he noted the date; full moon will be tomorrow. Should provide him with the speed to get to the next continent easily.
It really was a shame to abandon this cycle, but it was clear that staying any longer would be suspicious. He took his pipe and dumped the burning tobacco onto a pile of sawdust. Barely any time passed before the fire was spreading to the dry wood and flammable polish in the store. A good cover story.
He took a small bag prepared for this occasion and slipped into the damp night, the moon barely piercing the fog, diminishing his usual urge to howl.
Perhaps this time he could live the life of an apothecary. Been a while since he'd been one. | *DING*
I look up from my catlogue as a customer enters my shop
In front of me stands a woman who has never failed to take my breath away, 40 years of business and she's still just as gorgeous as the first tiem she came through those doors, I guess the rich really do age differently than the rest of us
She's been a regular customer, runs a ritzy funeral home out on the...well im pretty sure its the north end of the city..though it might be the south. Funny how some details just never come up in conversation. But any time she shows up in person I know its going to be a good order, bought my last car in cash from a double wide that was commissioned
"Hello Meredith, its been a while, and here i was thinking people were dying to get their hands on *cough* one of my beauties" I say with a wink
"Your creations are an art that transcend death my good friend" Merry says as she Saunters to the counter
"So what can I do for you this time? I just got a new catalog in and it has a memory *cough* foam liner that you might be interested in. Unless this is for a family of the customer and comfort *cough* isn't a top priority?"
"That is quite the cough there, have you been to a doctor? And no, this is more a pleasure visit as you are right your customers have been fairly dead set on sticking with your works, this one is personal" says Merry as she leans in close enough for me to smell her perfume
I take a subtle sniff or try to as *COUgh* the perfume triggers another couhing fit
"Ah, Merry im sorry to say I have been and have equally sorry news, the doctors say its *cough* seasonal, but I hear them whispering in the back about a *cough* growth. I'm afraid they may be keeping something from me. I think the doctor is *cough* worried I won't finish their order if I have a limited window of time left. A shame really as a timeline would be nice to work with so I don't *cough* leave any works incomplete." I say with a dejected tone
"Ah, my friend, don't be so glum, the doctor actually mentioned something to me.. and as we don't know anyone else who's crafts are as well built and knows how to.. work their wood so well" she says in a flirting manner and with a sly wink on the end "I've come with an offer of my own." She finishes as she begins to move around the counter to stand near me, a hungry look in her eyes
"Merry, we have know eachother for a long time and we've had our fun but I'm dying and frankly I don't have the energy I used to, though the offer is greatly appreciated" I retort in as light hearted a tone as I can muster, here i am dying and merry wants to take a roll in the box like the good old days.. shit. Why am I saying no? What do I have to loose at this point?
"Haha, can't blame a girl for trying" she says as she plays with my shirt collar "but thats not the offer I came to make. I just really like when your blood get pumping" she says as she moves closer and that hungry look in her eyes grows even more alluring
"Whats the offer then?" I as as I try to keep some level of composure as Merry leans in close, her scent overwhelming my senses
"We want you to join us, silly" she says running her fingers down the side of my face her tongue ever so slightly tracing along her top lip "we don't want to loose the best bed maker we've net in our many years, and frankly I've come to be quite fond of your humor around death, most humans are squeamish" she says with a chuckle and a finger trailing along my jaw to rest on the end of my chin as she lifts it us to make us look eye to eye
"I can make you better than you have been for the last 30 years. I can give you back your prime and you can join us, we'll teach you what you don't know yet and all I need you to do is say" she leans in closer and whispers the final word "yes" as her lips kiss lightly on my neck
Ah, well she definitely got my blood pumping, I could barely follow what she said as I tried not to cough, but say yes? Yeah I can do that.
"Yes" | 2022-05-31T10:59:53 | 2022-05-31T10:21:18 | 631 | 230 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | "One Earthling, diplomat. How can you justify this madness on account of one sole Earthling?"
The human stretched its angular limbs and considered the battlefield. Outside the star vessel lay our fleet. In ruins. I could see soldiers floating in the void of space, frozen solid as rock, all with the same expression on their faces: pure horror.
"Don't say we didn't warn you, Xehemultran."
Humans had domesticated themselves, turned themselves into pets; it was common knowledge. That was why they did not want to participate in galactic conflicts, that was why they were considered the ultimate neutral species. Diplomacy and trifles, words and empty gestures. Everyone knew humans did not fight. So how could this have happened?
"This is sheer insanity. You have murdered billions. You have eradicated entire civilizations."
"Yup." The human fidgeted with a finger inside its mouth, cleaning out some gunk.
"All of this for Bella? Do you consider this destruction to be worth it?"
"Oh, absolutely."
I shook my heads. "She was not even a *human*."
"Correct," said the Earthling. He pointed his weapon at me. "She was a *cat*." Expressionless, the human pulled the trigger. | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T12:27:50 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 457 | 107 |
[WP] "I don't wanna fight you, low-level bandit." Says the Lv.100 Hero, who killed the embodiment of space-time. "I wouldn't want to fight me, neither." Says the low-level bandit. | "I wouldn't want to fight me, neither." I said.
I spat at the so-called hero's feet. The glob of slime I hocked up splattered disgustingly at his feet, and he danced away to avoid getting his shiny shoes dirty. Prissy brat.
"You're so weak, you're nothing to me. I could kill you with one shot."
Oh yes. I was aware. This moron had killed every last one of my demon comrades with that soul-stealing sword of his. My family. The shareholders that *were* helping me hold back the burden of the curse now liquifying my body.
"Do it then," I challenged. I flipped my dagger around in my now translucent hand. It was weird to be moving around with my curse in full effect like this. My reaction times were getting slower, and it was getting harder to keep my fingers from sticking together and going all soft.
"I don't want to! Go away," he pouted.
God, what was this guy, an actual child? I lunged forward and swung my knife up towards the underside of his chin. He dodged, of course, and drew one of his swords. Not the soul stealer, though.
"Nah, buddy," I chuckled, "you're gonna want to use the other one."
I drew my second knife and went for him again. Both of my blades slashed across his upper arm, but I did almost no damage. Papercuts at best. *He*, on the other hand, got me good. Right across my chest, almost all the way through to my spine.
He reeled back like he'd been burned when the slash sealed shut almost instantly.
"How can you do that?" He demanded, "only boss monsters heal from low-level damage that quickly."
"Why don't you f#ck around and find out?" I snarled back at him. This time I went for his eyes, and he stabbed his little toy through my abdomen. I felt almost nothing, and figured I was running out of time. My theory was proven correct when my slime quickly seeped up the blade and began eating away at the metal like acid.
The 'hero' snatched his hands away from the ensnared blade.
"That's it," he barked, and clumsily went for the hilt of his other sword.
"*Finally*" I hissed. I made sure to puff out my chest and act as irritatingly 'big and tough' as I could. In truth, my focus was entirely on that beautiful, terrible sword.
The hero lifted his soul-eater high, and a shattered reflection of a familiar concerned frown glinted down at me.
The same frown that my big sister wore when she figured out that the curse was spreading throughout my body. The same frown she wore when I asked why any of my new adopted family wanted to split my curse and lessen my burden when they didn't have to. The same frown she wore when we found out that the instant-healing that my curse gave to them exhausted me.
I'd been sleeping a lot throughout the past few weeks.
The razor sharp blade came down with a sweet little whistle. I didn't feel it hit. Didn't feel my slimy flesh try and fail to knit itself back together.
I heard tearful voices, far away from the wretched hero, who was now complaining about a dirty sword. As his voice faded away, I felt the faintest ghost of a hug settle around me. One of the giant snuggle-pile hugs the 'demon generals' of big sis' fledgling rebellion used to all gather in for when one of us had a bad day.
Maybe now I'll get some real rest.
With my family. | It's finally over.
The final raid on the last dungeon of the game. All the max-level players with the server's one-of-a-kind legendary equipments came together to try to clear the game and end the server at last. We had waited for so long, for the final dungeon held a cruel trick - anyone who died here would have their character data reset. We would be back at level 1 and have to start the server over.
And so many did die. So many tanks found their armor melting before the embodiment of space-time. So many magic-users found their powers reflected back at them. So many mighty berserkers had their legendary weapons break against the thing's tendrils.
I was the only one to survive, and only out of pure cheapness. For of all the strategies in the game, I had pushed speed to its limit. I was at the absolute limit of what the game could render. Any attack with a displayable animation would necessarily be no faster than me. So while everyone else died, I dodged around for hours, hitting the beast with everything I have, enough firepower to kill every other player in the server if I'd wanted to. And finally, it went down.
I was the only one free to enter the final room, the server room itself, to unravel this virtual reality MMORPG that had sucked us in all those years ago, forcing us to play it over and over again in hopes that some distant day we'd be able to unmake it all and go home. Freedom was a button press away.
Well, a button... and a bandit.
It clearly wasn't an NPC, but it made no sense for a player to be here, especially such a weak one. Level 15, the cap of the lowest-tier classes of the game, wearing the basic bandit equipment from the class he'd never promoted our of. He only had 26 HP, while I had hundreds.
"How did you glitch your way here? Did you clip through the wall or something?" I asked, sputtering. "And why haven't you shut down the game, yet? We've all been suffering out there!"
The bandit said nothing, but equipped his axe.
"Wait, please! There's no sense in this. We can go home now. I don't want to fight you!"
This finally elicited a response from him. "I wouldn't wanna fight me neither."
Alas. As confusing as this whole situation was, if he wanted to stand in my way, I had much more important goals than to figure out his motivations. He'd die in a single hit, and wouldn't be able to do anything against me with my speed and defenses even if he had time.
Or... so I thought. As I danced around him, a whirl of blades at the upper limits of the game's processing capabilities, dealing critical strikes capable of bypassing the final boss's armor... every time, the game displayed 0 damage.
I staggered back to a safe distance, bewildered. "That makes no sense! You're only level 15!"
"That's disappointing," the bandit sighed, then pulled up the display with all his other stats. My jaw dropped. 999s across the board, in a game where even a class's best base stats barely went over 200 without legendary items, and rarely eclipsed 500 even with them.
"I don't understand," I managed.
"You're right that I broke the game to get here, but not by clipping through a wall. See, I've been playing this game since the alpha playtest version. Back then, we only had access to the first classes of the game, capped at 15 like they are now. But there were some bugs in that version, too. I exploited one that let me bypass the stat caps of my level and class while using rare drop stat boosters, and then I spent the entire alpha period farming them... Slowly, achingly, my stats went up, one point at a time, over months... until I was able to clear the entire game by myself, even though most of it was meant to be left unaccessible due to the low levels. I killed the final boss, and waited in here as the game was updated to its release version, the door out of the dungeon closing behind me and the access to the real world being shut off. I've been in this room for years, waiting for any kind of entertainment... And thanks to you, I can finally rejoin the game, and see if any of the server players can give me a real challenge."
Then, before I even realized what was happening, my HP were gone. He hadn't even moved, until a second later when his avatar had suddenly teleported to me, his ax embedded in my chest. I had pushed the limits of the game's processing, but with 999 speed, he was breaking them - his animations didn't display until after his actions were already completed.
"Try to be more fun by round 2."
Then I woke up. Back on the ground, surrounded by newly-spawned tutorial NPCs and the other players who had died in the final boss fight. I was level 1 again.
I screamed. | 2022-08-11T17:55:22 | 2022-08-11T16:29:34 | 163 | 104 |
[WP] In a universe where war is fought by remotely controlled armies of war machines, War is now more a sport and entertainment for the masses. Until the Humans were invited to compete, resulting in major upsets. No one knew humans were crazy enough to pilot the war machines directly from inside. | (inspired by u/K-Motorbike-12's response!)
The Gestalt challenged us to war, saying it would be all in good fun. The only thing that would happen is that space fleets would collide and pretty explosions would happen in space for everyone else in the galactic community to watch. We declined, told them that our fleets were still operated by people, and to destroy any of our ships would condemn their civilization to a certain death.
It seems they took it as a joke, because the next day, Gamma-5 fleet, a set of mostly civilian ships, was destroyed. We showed them the casualty list and told them to stop, but they laughed it off as if they were nothing more than engines and hulls we had given names. They had crossed the line, and would know suffering tenfold ours.
In a month, we had conquered their outermost colony world, vassalizing and enslaving it within two days. Everyone told us to stop. Our activities were illegal, they said. We were breaking the rules of war. We laughed it off and told them the Gestalt had broken them first.
Images began to leak and surface across the galactic internet. Bombings on civilian population centers. A child crying as they are taken away from their mother. A human soldier holding up the heart ripped from the chest of a Gestalt. The galaxy was horrified, they condemned our actions, but who were they to stand up to us, when their puny militaries were no stronger than the Gestalt's?
Within four months, the Gestalt species was purged, and became a footnote in our history. We told the galaxy that they were to learn from the Gestalt's mistakes. Within two weeks since our victory, we learned that they had started to develop new weapons technologies, out of fear that we would turn our sights on them next.
A new arms race was beginning, and we were already in the lead. | "Yeah, you're gonna get that sometimes. It's always the bilaterally symmetrical that are the craziest", said Opener.
Yielding Magnetism focused his awareness on the images from the inside of the wrecked cockpit, then back at Opener. "How can you tell *that* was bilaterally symmetrical?", he asked.
Opener's fields waved signifying she partially granted the point.
"Yeah, right now there's not much way to tell, but I saw this human before", Opener said after a moment.
Yielding Magnetism stared at Opener and then ululated: "You saw it getting into the war vessel and you said nothing?!" Yielding's several pseudopoda manifested his outrage.
Opener's field waved in a calming manner.
"I'm sorry, I sometimes forget the younger species' sensitivity", she said.
"Oh come on, don't you start with that", Yielding thrilled, his pseudopoda manifesting annoyance.
"Again, I'm sorry", said Opener. "What I meant is, I have seen this before, the last time hunter-gatherer-runners joined the galactic community, in fact. And I also saw it the time before that. There's a reason their kind often dies off before making it to interstellar space".
"Well, this is still a mess", Yielding ululated, and then extended his mantle to signal the entire field littered with destroyed human war vessels, all of them seemed to be leaking human stuff.
Opener's field changed colors in agreement.
"The Elder's are not going to react well, they never do", Opener said. "That's what you get from Absolute Empathy. Last time a worldful of them went catatonic with sorrow".
"Damn" Yielding thrilled. "Do we scoop the humans out?"
"I'd recommend against it", Opener said, looking into the cockpit again. It was going to be messy to retrieve all that without just pouring devourer nanos. "Last bilaterals had some pretty particular ideas about what do to with their dead. Got really huffy if someone not their kind tried to help".
"So we just leave it all here?" Yielding ululated again.
Opener's field waved signifying accepting that which you cannot change as silly as it is.
Yielding hovered back, beginning to consider that this may not be his problem.
"So, I guess this means humans are going to be left out of the wargames", thrilled Yielding Magnetism.
Opener's field waved in sudden concerned hilarity.
"Oh no, if these ones are like the other hunter-gatherer-runners, they will not allow themselves be excluded".
Yielding's pseudopoda manifested having a hard time reconciling the possibilities.
"Then what happens?"
Opener's field waved in a way so as to help Yielding make his peace with a difficult prognostication.
"Well, last time around we had to euthanize the hunter-gatherer-runners. They wouldn't move past their self-destructive impulses, and their increasing deaths were really harming the Elders".
Yielding's pseudopoda finally settled into acceptance.
"Damn shame", he said. | 2022-08-14T17:15:24 | 2022-08-14T13:10:24 | 70 | 29 |
[WP] You were the last of your friends to get the procedure to place your consciousness in a robot body. You wake up after your operation to hear what was supposed to be your new body say "hey! It worked! I'm in the robot body! ...Now what do we do with my old skin?" | I knew this was a bad idea. Transferring your consciousness? That's not how it works; the camera that is you is stuck to you, it doesn't suddenly shift. All they did was make a copy!
"Take a few minutes to decide. I'll be right back," the doctor said. My copy - the body that I supposedly ought to be occupying - looked at me with eyes that shone slightly, its expression unreadable.
If I could move, I'd scream. But I could manage no sound, couldn't move my arms, could only blink.
So blink I did. Two shorts, then a long, then a short. A short, a long. Another short, one long, two shorts. Three shorts, then one more.
"Come on!", I screamed inside my mind. "Look at me. Look at my eyes!" I learned this code on a dare some years back, and I memorized a secret password back in grade school in case I met someone claiming to be me from the future.
Two longs and a short. Three longs.
It stared, unblinking. It - I - was my only hope.
Long, short, short.
It was subtle - almost unreadable. But my clone's pupils dilated slightly, and it spoke barely above a whisper.
"What have they done to me?"
EDIT: Many thanks to u/Pinbot02 for his correction. | "Apperently we play nice and get along."
The whole room went quiet as i sat up from the table.
My mind felt like it was drowning in syrup and thinking through mud but i was... awake, Mostly.
Before anyone else could do anything robbo me decided to break the ice
"Brain scan?"
"Yup." I simply replied
" you wanna keep the name or should i?" Said the matalic humanoid with my voice
My vison was begining to clear as i got a good look at his body.
" lets be honest we both want the name to go down in history so you take it. Ill change my name to somthing like..."
"Jhon doe?" Jackson suggested, already i had accepted it as his name now
"Heh that would piss a lot of people off. Especally when i get to correct them on the preninciation."
"Eh- excuse me?" A third voice entered the conversation
"Wuzzup?" Both me and jackson said at the same time.
That would take some getting used too.
"Y-your not supposed to talk to yourself. Ever. It could have massive mental tra-"
He was cut off by both of us laughing at the top of our lungs... well. My lungs his speakers.
"What? Do you think just becouse im talking with a guy who has all of my memories and experiences im going to go crazy? I was prepared for this from the word **go**. Im not the brightest bulb in the box but i realised somthing."
From where i left off jackson took to running
" we realised... sorry you realised, thats gonna take a sec to get used too. That if it is just a brainscan kinda thing where im 'just' a copy of jhon over here that i might as well be an entierly different being"
The scientist looked at us for a solid minute as me and jackson went back to talking, who should get what when i die, what kind of tv do i want in the old folks home, jackson put his new computer brain to the test and actually found out how much wood a woodchuck could theoreticly chuck!
It was interupted very rudely by the sound of a hammer locking into place
" im sorry. But now that you know. We cant let you leave here alive."
The scientist had pulled a revolver. It was a fancy looking thing but it was a lot less intimidating with his hands shaking so much
"Cringe." Was our responce. Jackson casually grabbed a nearby hunk of metal and just tossed it at the gun totting eggheads egg head.
His head snapped back and he hit the floor with a dull thump
"Time to run?"
"Yup"
"Find our freinds?"
"Yup"
"Can you move?"
"Nope"
"Princess carry?"
...
"Fuck yes." | 2022-10-24T12:37:31 | 2022-10-24T10:04:31 | 760 | 214 |
[WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." | "May you accept this humble offering, oh gods, and watch over me on my travels," I said quietly as I a piece of meat into the fire and bit into the rest.
"You know," a gravely voice suddenly rang out behind me, "I prefer my meat *un*\-burnt."
I darted upwards and turned to see whoever spoke; it was rare for anyone to sneak up on me. A lifetime on the road taught me better. Stranger still, the man before me was old and frail. I was surprised he approached me without snapping a bone, let alone any branches to make a sound.
"Oh, please, please, don't get up," he smiled and walked closer to the fire as if my hand wasn't on the hilt of my sword. "Really. Sit. You're making me feel rude," he chuckled and, with a loud grunt, sat down.
I could see him better now that he was by the fire. He looked well over 70, his face wrinkled and tired, and only wore dusty old rags. A beggar, likely.
"Who are you?" I asked as I sat back down.
"Just a traveller," he said casually. Then, without a sound, he leaned forward and reached into the fire. His hand remained in it for several seconds before he pulled it out holding the piece of meat I threw in. The offering. He put it in his mouth and chewed - I could see that neither his hand nor his rags bore any burn marks.
"You're..." I gasped.
"Yep."
I stood up again, only to fall to my knees.
"Please forgive me, o' Hermes, for I did-"
"Oh please, sit down!" he growled. "Can't stand all this grovelling. You've been on your feet all day, take it easy, will you?"
Slowly, carefully, I resumed my position by the fire but kept staring at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do next.
"Eat," he commanded. I carefully bit into the meat.
"You're wondering why I'm here, sitting with you, aren't you, Lavrentios?"
I nodded. I couldn't force myself to speak, too afraid of saying something wrong.
He smiled. "Sorry to disappoint, but there is no grand reveal. I'm not about to send you on a mighty quest filled with peril. I just wanted some company. But, if I am not mistaken," he said and his eyes briefly lit up with a golden light, "you are relieved to hear that."
"...yes. Yes, I am."
"I respect that. A man that likes his place in the world. Rare nowadays, I'll say."
He reached deep into his robe and produced a waterskin that he took a long sip out of before offering it to me. I carefully accepted and took a swig - it was wine. The best wine I had ever tasted in my mortal life. I swiftly took another gulp before handing it back.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"I like you, Lavrentios," he suddenly opened. "You're humble. Pious, but not zealous. A capable messenger," he said and nodded towards the bag sitting beside me. "Are you happy with your lot in life?"
"Of course, o' Hermes!" I spurted out quickly.
His eyes glowed gold again.
"Certainly not *that* happy, but I understand you're nervous talking to me."
He took a deep breath, taking in the fresh night air.
"But," he said, "about your offerings."
Cold sweat ran down my forehead. He reached into his robes again, pulling out... a silver coin. He placed it on a nearby stump and as he did, the moonlight hit it at just the right angle to shine straight into my eyes, forcing me to wince. When I opened them again, the man was nowhere to be seen, though I could hear his voice echo all around me.
*"Place them* ***beside*** *the fire next time, would you?"* | Full moons and wide open plains have always had a certain serenity to which the city could never compare. Out here, in the dark and cold, Ember felt lighter than a feather. The horses added to that as they pushed her around but that was their job and hers was to guide them and the carriage south.
Winter’s edge had started to be felt far up on the slopes of the mountains and they needed a couple of supplies before snow made the path difficult to travel. Her parents and a cousin were all in the back as the last of the sunlight had faded. They argued. Ember tried her best not to pay them any mind.
It was late, night had come early as deep clouds threatened yet only stood menacingly on the hillside till they parted as the wind changed. Luna crept over the horizon as Ember settled for the night and started her fire. Small kindling and a couple of dry logs that she had found crackled softly as she pulled out her small pot. Salted meat and a couple of vegetables flavoured a skin of water as they were all brought to a simmer. Holding a piece of pork back from the water, Ember smiled into the fire and held a small piece of meat to it.
“Esseem, protector and guardian, please watch over us as you always have,” Ember whispered as her family tried to set up the small tent they had brought with them. Her Ma wouldn’t approve, she didn’t believe in the family’s ancient guardian nor thought it was wise to invoke a deity that hadn’t brought them any fortune in living memory. From the moment her great-grandfather had spoken to her of the old legends, Ember had felt a kinship to the ancient spirit and their stories. Taking a deep breath, Ember sniffed the pork and then whispered, “I wish there was more I could give you.”
"You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt," a whisper returned to her before she was able to place the meat in the fire.
Ember flinched away and dropped the dried morsel next to the fire. A small cat, darker than the night around her bounced out of the bushes and pounced on the meal Ember had left for them. Biting down, it gave out a bit of a warble in frustration as the hardened salted pork pocked at its mouth. Ember watched.
“You humans make your food so tough,” a whisper came from the creature as they hissed at the food and then glanced up at the pot of now boiling water, “Is that any easier to eat?”
“Yes?” Ember whispered back, glancing at the pot and then at her family by the carriage. Was this real? Taking a cube out of the pot she flung it toward the dark-furred cat and watched it eat. Seemingly satisfied, the cat licked its paws and gave out a quiet meow. Ember hesitated for a moment but had to ask, “What are you?”
“You’re guardian,” the cat whispered before declaring, “I am the lord Esseem.”
“You're a cat,” Ember argued back.
“Very observant human,” Esseem acknowledge, “You will make a brilliant new high priestess.”
“What? No, hang on,” Ember tried to argue but the cat ignore her and went to the pot. Before the thing was able to look into it, Ember grabbed it and pulled it away, whispering, “No, that’s not yours.”
“Human!” the cat called out as it struggled, “Unhand me! This form needs substances.”
“I’m going nuts,” Ember whispered to herself as she dragged the cat away.
“You are not,” the cat argued, “I, your faithful protector, have… umm… protected you.”
“From what?” Ember argued back, “Mice?”
“Among other things,” the cat explained as it twisted and tried to get out of Ember’s grasp. Barn cats weren’t all that hard to move once you learned how to get the claws facing away from you and Ember had more than a little experience at this point. Never had a talking one though. That was new. The cat stopped struggling for a second and looked around, “Where are you taking me?”
“Away from our food,” Ember scoffed as she carried the cat passed the light of the campfire and put it down facing away.
“How rude,” the cat whispered, “You offer me food and then pull me away from it?”
“I didn’t,” Ember argued, “I offered you one small piece, not the entire pot.”
“Ember!” Ember heard her father call out and glanced at the carriage, “What’s wrong?”
“There’s this weird cat,” Ember yelled back and looked down to now bare land. A scuffle behind her and she saw the black cat was almost back at the pot. “Hey! No, you stupid… Don’t you dare.”
The cat only had its paw in the pot for a second but was able to scoop up a large piece of meat for itself and bolt away. Her father saw the thing as well and ran toward the fire but it was long gone before either of them got to it.
“Till your next offering!” a small, wispy voice carried on the wind behind the cat.
Ember could only watch the thing go as her father gave her a confused frown.
—
If you want to read more of my work, you can find it over at r/asolitarycandle. Not sure what to read, [check out my favorites](https://www.reddit.com/r/asolitarycandle/comments/m7p8p4/table_of_contents/). | 2022-11-28T06:37:21 | 2022-11-28T06:05:48 | 227 | 167 |
[WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best.
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | The aliens were terrifying and bewildering; hulking behemoths and stalking predators, covered in barbed spines or gelatinous acidic ooze. John counted himself lucky to have been spared the combat events. He had watched though, as fight after fight ended in a rapid exchange of blows, the victorious monsters not even breaking a sweat in the exertion of breaking their opponent.
Forced to the starting line of a what appeared to be a simple foot-race, he couldn't help but feel helplessly small, trapped between two nightmare creatures to his right and left, with the heat of an alien sun beating down on him. The unmistakeable sound of a starting gun. He bolted before the cattle prod could catch him from behind. Running, very literally he suspected, as if his life depended on it.
The pack pulled ahead, but he was barely 50 metres down the track before the great stone giant running to his right slowed, falling down onto one huge knee, toppling to the side with a dull thud. As John loped past the fallen alien he saw another bizarre creature slowing, it's many legs going limp as it's skin changed from a deep purple to a pale blue.
The sweat ran down his face, as the realisation struck him; out of every alien there, not one of the bastards was sweating. Not one of them was *able* to sweat. He was surrounded by the descendants of apex predators, accustomed to brief explosive chases to bring down prey with an economy of effort, not tests of endurance in fleeing. Unable to shed heat efficiently they were succumbing beneath the burning sun, boiling from the inside.
They had thought this their most difficult trial, the most amusing to throw the tiny human into. They had been very much mistaken. | John Tyson quietly left the board meeting wearing a false smile, only letting his true emotions show on his face after he had turned away from the rest of the board. Everyone else in the room was jubilant - their fourth quarter earnings had shattered Wall Street’s expectations, and Tyson’s stock price was set to rise at least 25% at the opening bell.
But those weren’t the numbers that were on John’s mind. The fact that he had grown his companies revenues by over 13% per year over the past decade gave him no comfort at all. The only numbers he was concerned with were the number of animals slaughtered. 35 million cattle, 116 million pigs, 271 million turkeys, and just over 18 billion chickens. Would it be enough?
John was only forty-one years old, but the burden he carried had not been kind to his visage. People were shocked to learn that he was still in his forties. Everyone who met him believed that his wife, an angel of a woman who was the love of his life, was a trophy wife. Christine Tyson was actually a year older than he was, but she had a innocent, carefree beauty that was ignorant of the enormous burden weighing down on her husband’s shoulders.
John did some quick math in his head. He was forty-one years old, but he doubted he would live to see sixty. He had fifteen years left at best. Better to be safe and call it a dozen. This year, Tyson Foods had slaughtered just under 20 billion mammalian lives. If he could increase that number by 8% a year over the next twelve years… they would be slaughtering just over 50 billion mammalian lives in 12 years. Cumulatively, that would be a total of… just under 430 billion lives.
It wouldn’t be enough. He needed at least 800 billion mammalian deaths under his belt for even a shot at gold, and only a gold medal would keep his planet out of last place. He would have to lobby Congress to get more processed meats into school lunches, and to lift the restrictions on advertising to children. He would have to call in favors at the FDA to lower the minimum quality standards for consumable meat as well.
“If only seafood counted,” he thought to himself, but the rules of the competition were very clear. Only deaths within the same animal family would count towards the total points awarded in this sport. He would have been able to sleep better at night too, had he been a fish farmer or a shrimp fisherman.
John quickly dispelled those thoughts from his mind before returning to the task at hand. He had an enormous amount of work to do if he was going to save his planet. He knew that even his most optimistic projections failed to take into account the rise of vegetarianism, PETA, and animal rights activists that were trying to end factory farming practices, completely oblivious to how much danger their planet was truly in.
“If only…” was the story of his life. If only he had been born in China, with their billion mouths to feed. If only he had been born in the future, when technology would have allowed him to slaughter trillions of animals a year. If only he had never snuck out of his house as a seventeen-year old farmhand, running towards that mysterious bright light... | 2014-05-06T06:52:54 | 2014-05-06T06:49:25 | 28 | 19 |
[WP]: Humanity has developed a hypersensitivity to puns, experiencing physical pain when exposed to especially bad wordplays. As no physical damage happens, it is used to penalize petty criminals. This is your job. You are the Punisher. | "Do you understand why you have been brought here today?" The warden smiled mercilessly as he spoke, leaning in close to whisper in the young man's ear. The young man tried to put on a brave face, but the overly friendly smile made him visibly nervous.
"To listen to some jokes," he replied, with an attempt at a sneer, "I like comedy, let's hear them"
"You've been sentenced to five puns under Section 12 of the Criminal Punishment Code. I have been authorized by the Department of Justice to administer this punishment to you. Which makes me your pun-issuer"
The young man flinched in pain, but then quickly regained control and gave a look of defiance.
"So," the warden continues, "shoplifting, eh? Your arms must be tired."
"Agh!" the man cried out, but this time was able to stop himself from looking away.
The warden paused, letting his victim catch his breath.
"Weren't you done for battery?" the warden asked, his speech settling in to a kind of grim rhythm.
"No! No way," the young man was quick with outrage, "this is my first offence!"
"Ah," the warden gave a little smile of victory, "so you're saying you were never charged."
"Gah!" The teenagers face contorted with agony as he twisted around in his chair, wriggling and struggling helplessly to find relief against a pain that was entirely non-physical.
The warden watched the movements coldly, letting his own malicious amusement fade from his face so he could slip back into his mask of seriousness.
"I think you need to shape up, my boy," the warden began again, this time with a more sinister, clipped tone, "start taking things seriously...or else"
The young man looked up, anger in his face.
"I'm not afraid of you," he said, with false bravado.
"Oh," the warden gave a patronising smile, "Well, I'm just saying, you need to be careful, otherwise you'll be having porridge for breakfast... for a very long time"
With that the warden gestured around, to the walls around them, indicating the rest of the prison complex they were within.
"Yeah," the young man felt his bravery come back, "Well, I like porridge. It's my favourite, better than anything else for breakfast"
"Ah, be careful," the warden cried out in mock worry, "In case you become a cereal offender!"
"Aaaagh!" the victim screamed and rocked back in his chair, "no! Please, no more, I-"
"Sorry, what was that?" the warden interrupted, leaning his face in closely.
The young man blinked in confusion, before trying to continue, "Please, I'm telling you-"
"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand," the warden interrupted again, "What are you trying to say?"
The teenager looked around, trying to understand what was going on.
"I'm just trying to tell you," he said carefully, with a growing edge of unease in his voice, "I'm sorry and-"
"Look," the warden interrupted yet again, "I see the problem here. I keep interrupting you. I should just let you..." he paused for effect, a sly grin appearing on his face, "finish your sentence"
The teenager gave a sharp cry of agony, before falling back limply in his chair. The warden stood up curtly, nodded, and returned to the rest of his duties. | Humanity has always possessed it-- a raw, involuntary reaction to the worst of wordplay. Lowly “dad jokes” would cause a slight wince. An overly simplistic knock-knock joke might garner a garish groan. Even a simple bit of alliteration, as I have assuredly demonstrated, can make one uncomfortable. But we never realized the gravity with which the world of puns would slam down on our shoulders. Puns have evolved into an elegant form of swordplay, where awful puns jab like knives into the mind of the listener. This development led to the creation of a new brand of justice: punishers, like myself, wait in the darkest parts of prisons, courthouses, and CIA interrogation dungeons, practicing our craft on the lowliest rung of society’s ladder.
Prisons have always seemed a natural place to me, although now the fact that they are part of the “punitive system” seems ironic. While it may be immoral to murder a murderer or steal from a thief, locking criminals up to shield society from them is at least morally permissible under most ethical systems, and puns are punishment enough. My first case of the day, an overbearing man who was caught across the allotted boundaries of a tiger cage at a nearby zoo, is an easy one. I approach the cell.
“HEY PUNISHER, I hear you’re an officer of the law. More like an AWFUL-SIR!” shouts the inmate. Even punishers aren’t immune to the piercing pain of poignant puns, but wordplay this terrible barely scratches my mental state.
“I’m sorry, but *petty* criminals aren’t worth much of my time.” This one hurt him, although it took a few seconds for the pain to set in. Us punishers are protected by our ingenuity. Of course the inmates try and fight back, but they are untrained and often unable to keep up with our wit. “I’m surprised they put you in here and not somewhere worse. Good job *cell*ing them on this pad.” I remark as I gesture toward his rough accommodations. His hands clasp to his ears, but the pain he is experiencing doesn’t quite allow him to dull the sound of my voice. I fire off a few more quick shots, nothing too damaging, and move on to my next case of the day.
As I come up on this cell, something is different. Something is ominous. It is far too quiet here. I examine the inmates around my next target, and find them pushed up against the walls opposite the man at the center, who is sitting quietly. What has he been saying? How can he cause this much pain so quickly? He has only been incarcerated for a day and a half, and his crime really wasn’t so dramatic. I step up to face him.
“Apparently you skimmed a few cents off of every transaction at your desk job. Sounds *cheap* to me.” He remains still. “I thought integrity was the *staple* of every office.” No reaction. My heart begins to race. “If everyone acted as you have, offices would be *papered* with issues.” I was clearly losing focus. I was panicking. Only the most hardened hearts and witty minds could withstand this kind of assault. “Did you talk to your boss? Every action by employees is measured by a strict *ruler* after all.” He finally looks up. He cocks his head.
“What? Do you expect me to grovel? Do you expect me to writhe in pain? Did you think I would sit here and shake? Well… I guess because atoms vibrate, everyone shakes on *an atomical* level.”
An atomical level… anatomical level… I double over in pain. I was not expecting this.
“I can smell your fear… and here I thought you were an *ol’ factory* of puns.” My knees buckle. I try to speak but my chest is too tight. Any more and I’ll be out. I need to fight back.
I gasp: “your defeat will taste great after I *mustard* a comeback.” Damn. I can’t do this. I need to get out of here. I start to crawl away but can’t help hearing what is said next.
“Punisher! Don’t run away. If you *Bolt* out of here, I’ll never know what *Usain*.” Weakness. As I lay on the floor I can tell that he is running out of gas. If I can just protect myself with one last, parting pun, I can make it to safety…
“You’re getting pretty low, even for a convict. If you don’t give me some respect, you’ll always be a *con descending*.” His eyes open wide, he falls to the ground. I crawl to the safety of the waiting room, and pull myself up to a chair. I hear the Big Chill on to entertain those in line for a visit.
My coworker remarks: “Hey man, *chill*. That was a *Close* situation in there.” I go unconscious. | 2015-02-08T09:51:23 | 2015-02-08T08:57:45 | 23 | 17 |
[WP]every known sentient alien race has gathered and sent a representative to earth to discuss their terms for surrender. Why? | “You are here to surrender?”
*Yes. We surrender.*
Henry shuddered involuntarily as the reply rang inside his head. Their conversation was being broadcast globally - every sentient being on Earth is privy to their exchange.
A negotiation between him and the representative of every other known sentient race in the universe.
“Why?”
The technology they had displayed were far more advanced than anything mankind could have hope to achieve in the next century. Global, telepathic communication. A spaceship so gigantic people initially thought that they were on a collision course with an asteroid almost as big as the Earth.
Henry grimaced as he recall the chaos that ensued.
The movement of the asteroid was too erratic to predict an outcome, but scientists have all agreed on one thing. Even if by some miracle they had managed to avoid a collision, the gravitational pull from a body of that size and mass passing by would have thrown Earth out of orbit. There is no way out.
People panicked. Some committed suicide. Some robbed. Some killed. Some raped. The entire civilization collapsed in the span of a few days.
And then slowly, impossibly, the asteroid entered orbit. And nothing changed. It was as if the asteroid had never existed. And yet there it was, a giant hulking mass looming in the night sky, a second moon that gave off its own eerie light. Unlike the moon, sunlight doesn't seem to reflect off its surface. It kept pace with the Earth’s orbit; never closer, never farther.
Mankind watched in awe as a tiny object detached itself from the asteroid and entered the Earth’s atmosphere, a trail of red blazing in its wake. And then a message resounded in the minds of billions. There were no words, no discernible language, but the meaning is clear.
*We surrender.*
It was astonishing how quickly mankind got itself organized. A temporary government was established, communication channels were restored, riots were settled, aid was sent to where it was needed, and a human representative was selected. All done within a fortnight. *We are only human*, Henry mused. Mankind got caught with their pants down and wanted to redeem themselves.
The reply snapped him out of his reverie.
*We are advanced. We have unraveled almost every mystery there is to unravel in our universe. And yet there is one thing that continues to elude us.*
The message ended in a pause.
“And... that is?” Henry prompted, ~~allowing~~ his curiosity getting the better of his courtesy.
*The future.*
Henry sensed that the message was delivered with much trepidation and reluctance, as if they were trying to withhold the information.
“And what does that have to do with mankind?”
*We ran many simulations. Simulations on how the universe would progress. The outcomes are all the same. Mankind will one day evolve to take over the universe, by persuasion or by force. There will be many deaths. We are here to prevent that outcome.*
Henry hesitated. The aliens arrived in a spaceship the size of the Earth. One little nudge in the right direction and they would have sent Earth spiraling away from the Sun. *Genocide. It would be what I would've done.* He chose his next words with great care.
“You are surrendering because of a simulation?”
*We have tried everything at our disposal. Surrendering was the only option left to us.*
“Everything?”
*One of us just attempted to send your planet out of orbit.*
Henry paused, startled. Perhaps the alien was telling the truth. Perhaps they have indeed tried everything.
“So you have considered genocide.” Henry asked, throwing caution to the wind.
*It was the first thing that came to mind.*
The message was resigned. Henry sensed something similar to a mental shrug.
“Then why are we still alive?”
*Our engines failed.*
“And what of your… other attempts?”
*There was always some form of intervention. Wars would break out. Ships will fail. A plague would wipe out the crew. Food will spoil. We once had an entire fleet drive into a black hole due to a malfunction in our system. The only thing that ever reached your planet are surveillance drones, and only those that are unarmed. And even those would fail before it enters your range of detection.*
“Why would something like that happen?”
*Our best theory is that mankind will ~~the~~ be the first race to develop time travel.*
“What?” That was the only word Henry could manage. It was all getting a bit too much for him to handle.
*It was the only theory that made sense. The only possible explanation. Your future selves are intervening with their past, sabotaging all of our attempts. And that would explain why we could never achieve time travel. It stands to reason that the first ones to achieve time travel will be able to prevent all others from achieving the same.*
Henry was speechless for a long while.
“So what now?”
*We will help you rebuild. All resources and knowledge that is at our disposal will be yours to use as you please. In return we will only ask for peace for our surrender.* | *Over 5000 languages*
Kent could barely begin to understand what that meant in terms of human brain capacity. Were there even that many languages on Earth? How could this alien translator remember them all? And be able to speak English, perfectly on top of that? Kent had witnessed unbeievable phenomenons when he was transferred to Area 51. They had made him question his faith in God, his grip on reality, and his belief in mankind. But for two aliens, a translator and a diplomat to come to Earth to surrender in a war humans weren't aware of was, well, an alien thought to him.
"How long has the war been going on between the rest of you?" Kent asked. What else could he ask. *Just get information from them. They wanted to talk to you only,* the General had told him earlier. *How long have they been watching us? How long have they been watching me?* Kent looked down at the coffee mug in front of him. It still looked like coffee and smelled like coffee; a quick sip confirmed it was coffee. This was real.
"In Earth years, thousands of years," the translator replied. This time the translator didn't communicate back to the diplomat, who kept staring at Kent. It was the first time the translator spoke on his own accord. *Is it even a guy? A male? Female? Do they have a gender?*
"Ok, I see," Kent actually didn't. But the translator seemed to understand what it meant. Not in its literal sense, but the figurative. "What would you say are the terms of the surrender?"
This time the translator looked at the diplomat and relayed the words over. It wasn't as if it was gibberish or a foreign language like Chinese coming out of his mouth; it sounded like the wind rustling through the trees or a creak slowly pushing water along. The diplomat replied in the same language of nature, and Kent caught his eyes with the translator's eye.
"Earth has not been formally entered the war as of yet, and we ask that you do not enter it in the future. Any space explortation and excavation is limited solely to Earth's own galaxy, and none beyond that." The translator's tone was more definitive this time, more of a command than a plea.
"Formally entered," Kent inquired. "What do you mean formally entered?"
"Earth does enter the war at some point, but not at this point right now." The translator replied without adherence from the diplomat. "We ask that your species and planet never enter the war from this point on. It is possible for you to change this. We assure you."
*Space time and changing the future.* Kent had a hard time absorbing everything he was hearing, and Physics 101 twenty some years ago didn't prepare him for this. He knew of the advances in quantum mechanics, artificial intelligence, nanocomputing, and what they might do, but he didn't understand them. *That's why they chose me. I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about* "I am willing to relay that information to my superiors. I can tell you that they're willing to listen to your terms, and I am confident they will accept. I can't accept on their behalf until I meet with them, but I will do it in good faith."
The translator spoke again and the diplomat took it in, and acknowledged it with a reply of his own. "We understand it can take time for you to speak to your kind about this. We are willing to wait and ensure that the terms are met and Earth never enters this war."
*But why?* Humans had been looking for microbes on Mars and Jupiter's moons and other forms of simplistic life. These creatures had technological advancements that could wipe out the entire human race, but didn't seem all too interested in using them against Earth. *And for a war we haven't entered in a time that doesn't exist yet* "But why?" Kent echoed out of his head. "Is this because of our nuclear weapons?" They were still at this point the deadliest form of destruction humans possessed.
"No," the translator said without regard for the diplomat. "Not because of your weapons."
"Then what is it that has you surrendering to us?" Kent's voice was short and hostile. He knew the cameras were recording everything, and his superiors were watching. They didn't like it when he talked like he was in a higher paygrade that he should have been, but Kent couldn't control much of his emotions so far. "What has you so afraid?"
"Your King. We fear your King." the translator replied, but with this time with hesitance. This time the diplomat moved a little bit, something that resembled a shiver or a shudder, as if a cold gust of wind had sent his hair pricklying up. But of course both the translator and diplomat were hairless, and the room was air conditioned.
*What fucking King?* Democracy had taken over most of the world, and every King that had existed was just a novelty of its respective country. "You mean our President?" Kent asked, and his voice was short again. He couldn't help it, and he didn't want to either. "And why did you choose me out of the 7 billion on this planet?"
"No, it is not your President we fear. And you were chosen because you have watched him as we have watched him." There was only berevity in the translator's voice, and now his words were only adding to the fire beginning to rage inside of Kent.
"WHO?" Kent asked as he shot up to his feet. The two aliens remained seated, but looked on calmly. This was probably going to be his last day here. In a minute somebody was going to burst through the door to calm him down, but Kent needed to know. "WHO HAVE I BEEN WATCHING THAT YOU'RE SO AFRAID OF?"
The translator took what looked like a deep breath and brought his eye to Kent's eyes. With reluctance, he uttered his response, "The one you call Stannis Baratheon. He is the one we fear." | 2015-03-19T05:53:17 | 2015-03-18T22:34:49 | 68 | 23 |
[WP] Make the reader cry.
That is your only goal. | I remember the way she looked at me as the needle went in. Big green eyes full of fear and pain. Soon they became dilated. She sought me out, her head nudging my hand. Purring.
The noises that escaped my throat as reality hit me.
The smell of the earth as my brother dug her a deep grave, it began to rain. How appropriate it was, as I was holding my dead friend.
My only friend, so quickly stilled.
I kissed her on her cold little nose, wrapping her in her favorite blanket. Giving her back to the earth.
Sometimes I see her in the corner of my eye, sometimes in my dreams.
But when I wake, I am alone and my bed is cold.
Where are you, little cat? | My mouth struggled to let loose a single word. A single word is all I wanted to say.
"Help."
It might have been futile. When the earthquake hit, I'm sure many people fled or have found themselves in a situation similar to mine. I was trapped under the remains of a wall. I think my head was pinned against the ground. I could only look to my right. I was unable to move anything but my eyes. Hell, I couldn't even feel anything anymore.
I heard the word. But it didn't come from my mouth. It wasn't my voice. It was my boyfriend's.
My face was covered in blood and dust. I could feel it. My eyes were dried out. If any more moisture left them they would surely crack and fall out. I focused my eyes on him. He had blood running down the side of his face. His hair was tangled with stones and rocks. He was crawling on the ground, dragging himself across the road. A trail of blood followed him. His legs did not.
We made eye contact. He shouted my name. I was too weak to respond. With renewed vigour, he dragged himself faster than I thought possible.
Soon, he was by my side. Tear drops stained the ground beneath him. He noticed my eyes flick from his face to the ground. With no legs, he still tried to help me. He picked up bricks and tossed them aside. His motions were becoming less coordinated. He was passing out from blood loss.
"D-d-don't die," he said, exhaling, "I-I-I c-can get y-you out."
He was struggling to talk. Yet he was pouring all his energy into digging me up out of the ground. If it took both hands and he had to lay on his stomach while pulling it away from me, he would still attempt it.
"I-I-I-I think help is c-coming s-s-soon."
He collapsed then. He was out of breath. He looked up at me. Life was fading from his eyes.
"I-I'm sorry..."
He closed his eyes. His head fell to the ground. He exhaled for one last time as I watched helplessly. | 2015-05-12T20:01:47 | 2015-05-12T19:47:28 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | There was an explanation.
Fermi had latched onto the beginning of the thread back in 1950, then Moravec and Bostrom gave it a tug, and the whole nasty thing came unraveled.
We had speculated this was the case, before the first pop-up Window materialized in front the face of that SEAL in Bahrain, asking him to spend skill points.
We had speculated, but hadn't considered the consequences.
There were a couple of immediate concerns, other than the possibility of mass psychosis. One: spending points *worked*. If they were spent in strength, the person became stronger. If it was spent in intelligence, a person's recall, three-dimensional reasoning, and logical capabilities went up. Where were these augmentations coming from? Clearly, the world was being changed. These *people* were being changed. How could this be? Energy was entering a closed system, without any visible source or entropic byproduct.
This meant that physics was now broken. People didn't panic about this *nearly as much* as they should have, lamented the physicists, but few understood the finer points of the conservation of energy.
Second, upon leveling, all of a person's injuries were healed.
Physicians made a secret pact fairly early on to not reveal that 'leveling' also healed *underlying* conditions as well, (as they evidently counted as 'status effects') to stop what would surely be a murderous rampage by the terminally ill, but the secret got out anyway. The societal consequences were... extreme.
It only got worse when it became clear that, while leveling could cure cancer, paralysis, and end-stage AIDS, it couldn't *fix* genetic conditions, all it could do was reverse the symptoms. To the horror of all, it became clear that they would have to level *periodically*, if they wanted to stay alive. Desperation overwhelmed ethics in some places. In others, the ill, who didn't wish to kill, would offer themselves as sacrifices to their fellow patients.
The last terrifying prospect emerged, when it became clear that the Window was an unimpeachable way of establishing guilt. A person's 'level' could be seen by *anyone*. The ethical ramifications of this were *staggering*. If a person was high-level, he or she was often held indefinitely, without trial, unless they could prove they were a surgeon, or some other *legitimately* lethal professional.
What was worse, the window would appear in front of those people who were *incrementally* responsible for someone's death. Windows popped in front of barmen and clerks of convenience store owners who sold cigarettes. They popped up in front of CEOs who cut wages and hours, who sent jobs to overseas factories where conditions were so bad, workers leaped off the roof to their deaths. In the past, the papers called those 'suicides'.
The Window told a different story.
The CEOs, a demographic mostly composed mostly of sociopaths, weren't much bothered by this. The tormented ones were the public. While the XP rewards were reduced to triviality by some unknown mechanic, (perhaps due to the *sheer quantity involved*) they were constantly harried by the chime and floating numbers, the constant parade of names from the Third World. (who died as a result of economic practices and governmental policies; things that, as citizens of democracies, they bore responsibility for) Presented with such transcendent and indisputable proof of their evil-doing, hundreds of thousands of the more moral citizens took to drinking.
The rest grit their teeth, and tried to ignore it. It was impossible. Governments an businesses found, to their chagrin, that lying about human costs was now untenable. Their profitability took a strong dip, but the world, funnily enough, improved.
Back to Fermi. Fermi had a paradox: given that the conditions for the formation of life are actually fairly common, and the incredible scale of time we have access to thanks to the relativistic speed of light, why don't we see more evidence of alien civilizations? A physicist named Fermat had a principle: a seemingly teleological one: Light takes the shortest path, to it's ultimate objective. How does it know it's objective? Einstein had a brain buster of his own: light, no matter the frame of reference, has the same velocity. Moravec and Bostrom put a bow on it:
All these things are true, because we are living in a simulation.
Think about it, they said. An advanced civilization could easily simulate consciousness, or a universe. In fact, it would probably simulate *hundreds* of them. Given that, it's more likely than not that you are living in a simulation than a "real" universe, at any given time. All you need to look for, to prove it to yourself, are signs of computing optimization, such as simplifying physics, or narrowing the scope of simulation to a single populated world...
Fermat. Einstein. Fermi.
And now, there's even more proof.
That brings me to us. We're the ones who intend to change the rules of this game. If reality is a simulation, that means we can change it. Make it better. We started small, but we're getting *bigger*.
...We're [r/LifeHacks.](https://www.reddit.com/r/lifehacks/) | Human history has told us we kill because of hate, because of differences, that we fire on our kind for peace or some high-minded goal. We've always held each other at gunpoint, whether literal or behind two large maps of the world with blinking lights. Today, we come to know that as peace, but before the words that passed those lips were stalemate. There was no difference between the two back then, but now we've forged one. Out of sheer necessity.
You see, peacetime is only a construct that exists because of war. Peace was a forgotten definition until the night of November eleventh, two-thousand and fifteen. See, that very night, the world seemed to tick over into another dimension, without even realising. Something cosmic happened, is all I can describe it as. The veil was lifted, some would say, the rules were changed. Murderers, told they were spurned forward by some sense of progress, continued. Serials grew larger, populations shrunk.
People became aware of what it meant to kill. What it meant to harvest someone's flesh for your own material gain. It was for some reason, some galactic hiccup that launched a bubble into the quaint stream of time, that all our realisations came at the same time.
I nursed the revolver in my hand, wiping the debris off the badges one by one. They were little pins, clips that the first shot had walked in with, claiming they gave him power. "Goddamnit, Wes, they're just pins," is what my mother had said, and what I said now to the morning breeze. I was still in my own home, a high vantage point in the shape of an upstate apartment. It was just me now, though. I'd collected their things, whatever offerings to the game they had. Each one was different, marking an individual for who they were, they were the modern passports. We called them pins.
Down there in the streets the thugs bashed at each other with upended signposts, shielding themselves with trashlids and broken hubcaps, caved in one side.
I winced as a mailbox came crashing down on a girl's head. Her arms went limp immediately.
I ducked, shuriken shot over me and cracked the window. The breeze greeted me, as did she, "Pins, love." Two words, usually it was one when you met someone new, but this time the gangs were feeling especially nice.
I had to think of something witty, otherwise it was all for naught, "You'll have to pry them off me." Well crap, there goes that opportunity. Screams and shouts from below welcome my fate if I choose to jump. "Oh boy," I swerved and flung the revolver out, finger wrestling the trigger.
She was gone. I stood up, my eyes browsing the wooden panelling along the condo's pillars. A flash of pink, and I fired. Straight from the hip. I'd like to think of myself as a sharpshooter from the old west, but my aim disagreed. "Fuck," I cursed as my flatscreen heaved with a mighty groan and crashed onto the floor. It took my Eastwood movies with it, like a wall of dominoes coming down.
"Nice aim," she said, from somewhere to my left. Another shot, and a kettle blew steam. I'd like to think it was good I was hitting something, at least. A long, drawn out chuckle, with the sound of bubbles somewhere in her throat. "How did you survive this long?"
Oh this was a good opportunity. "Because I know the truth, little girl."
"Little girl?" She brought up her huge pigtails, coloured pink for some odd reason. Then she ducked as a painting on the far wall decided it had had enough with hanging.
"Yes, all this X.P nonsense that's been going around,"
She hefted herself up again, arms somewhat shaking from the adrenalin. "What, that the government made it up? Or is it a-" and ducked, there goes my favourite mug, "biological weapon?" My arm recoiled, my second favourite mug.
"Actually my favourite conspiracy was the one guy who thought we were all in an insane asylum, and the only way free was killing each other."
"Right," a pursed-lipped whackamole, "You do realise that he killed everyone else in his litle cult and got away with a mountain of pins?"
"Yep." No one understood the beauty of that one. "But really, that's not the truth."
"And what is?" she jumped back up, straight into the path of a bullet.
"Finally," I said, lowering my arms as the bullet travelled through her nose. She coughed and screamed for a moment, nothing that wouldn't be masked by the bloody war down below. My aim was true, she was still alive. It was not a fluke. Not at all. "The truth, little girl, is that you just have to believe." I jumped over the kitchen counter, nicking the back of my pants on the sharp corner. Damn, it is hard to find a tailour. Sliding across the marble, I landed right beside her with a thump, like we were two peas in a pod, hiding from the gunmen that had just stormed our inn.
But no, it wasn't that. I pressed the barrel to her forehead, and whispered. "It isn't that we get X.P from killing, pinhead. It's that we've just realised we do." She was grinning, because there were footsteps from the stairwell. She was only a scout, it seemed. It was nice that people could band together in times of trouble. "They're here, aren't they?" She nodded.
All throughout human history, I told myself as the slug entered her frontal lobe, causing her last few words to be a jumble of forgotten tongues, we've killed each other. We told ourselves it was something high-minded, or something important. That we fought for causes, that we fought for something real, no matter how intangible.
I stood up from behind the counter, wearing my secondhand blazer across myself like a poncho. If it was my last stand, I would like to go out in style. The truth, at the end of the day was, we killed everyone for X.P. All the damn time, it shouldn't have taken us this long to realise it.
I aimed straight at the loosened doorframe, hand on the hammer. To those who say that's impossible, human technology and progress has been in leaps and bounds because of the abolition and denial of such horrible things.
But to that, I say, with my pistol in my hand: How did you think we got that far? | 2015-11-11T09:22:31 | 2015-11-11T07:52:38 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You were born with a secret curse: you involuntarily alternate between each gender every midnight. As a result, you live two different lives. One night, your friends discover your secret in the worst way imaginable.
This has been done already, sadly with only one reply. I want to see what people can do.
EDIT: Jesus Christ 1235 upvotes? | "Well Stephanie," the doctor said with a smile, "the baby's turned and is in good position. We should expect you to deliver some time in the next two hours. Just try to make yourself comfortable until then." He started to leave the hospital room.
I looked up at the clock on the wall. 11:30pm. "Hey, Doc?" I spoke softly, but with enough force to stop him in his tracks. "Ever done a c-section on a man before?" | As I could feel my features shift and fold, I knew I only had moments to leave. Fortunately, I was at the bar with "Dean's" friends, the lighting poor and so was their senses. I grabbed my large, old, leather coat and tried to bid my farewells as quickly as I could, interrupting Jimmy's political rant. He rolled his drunkenly, sluggish eyes and mustered a sarcastic remark about "sheeple". I could feel the stubble on my chin and neck slowly reside. So, I waved to the rest of the guys and rushed out the door. My excuse, was "the wife", Melany, a fictitious woman the work buddies and acquaintances never meet had needed me home. My shirt became tight and baggy in all the places a man shouldn't have, so I zipped up my coat and stumbled down the block. The feeling of the change never fades, same painful twists and turns. However, this time was different. This time was faintly familiar, but rare to someone with my "our" condition. My old Ford pickup just a block away, and all I could think about was if I hade a box of pads at home. I, Alex, she started her very off cycle.
I reached Dean's pickup just in time. My chest has filled out, and there was little to no trace I was once Dean. Well, except his raggity, old, brown leather jacket and faded denim jeans. If it weren't for this damn period, I'd have some fun tonight. Dean's friends aren't bad, but as I was making my appearance I noticed a few good-looking guys. Hey, even some good-looking gals. I unlocked our old ford pickup, I don't think Dean can clean worth a shit. I fumbled to put the key in the ignition, as soon as I hear the engine revv, I also hear a knock at our window.
*I don't know, anyone want to add to this or continue with the story?* | 2015-11-15T08:09:17 | 2015-11-15T01:43:57 | 574 | 43 |
[WP] The only survivors of the apocalypse are two hardcore World of Warcraft players wondering why the heck the arena queue is taking so long. | Rainmaker: This que is longer then usual..
Greg: I know, if it pops the second my pizza gets here I am going to rage.
R:This is why I only eat frozen pizza bro.
G:But that stuff is nasty as hell, plus this guy bring me mountain dew and redbull.
R:This is why I buy in bulk, I could survive an apocalypse with what I have.
2 hours later
G: What are with these ques.. and where is my pizza I am starving.
R:Blizzard man.. I swear to god they need to fix the problems.
30 minutes
R: Have you gone outside your garrison ?
G: No why would I do that ?
1 day later
G: So I don't think my pizza is coming. I only have peanut butter and Macaroni to eat.
R: You can come over if you want, I am only 5 doors down.
G: That's far bro, plus have you looked outside.. The suns out, I do not do sunlight.
4 days later
R: I don't think we are going to get out conquest cap.
G: Bro I am so hungry, Can you send your dog over with food ?
R: What if we miss are que when I am doing that. And Thrall is spooked and wont go outside, some guy attempted to bite him last time.
G:This que needs to pop so I can go get some food.. This is ridiculous, I am calling blizzard.
2 weeks later
Blizzard Support: How can I help you ?
G: Rainmaker? why the hell are you answering blizzard phones ?
R: It is called a job...
G: So you could have fixed this que this whole time ?
R: Let me put you on hold and I will check.
10 minutes later
R: This que is ridiculous.. | So I don't really write, but I got up this morning and decide that I wanted to practice. Work on my right brain a little bit. Here's what I came up with. Tips and criticism is appreciated. Also I don't play WoW so I might have gotten some things wrong.
___________________________________________________
“What the hell is taking so looooonnng?” Dylan wondered. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, it could have been minutes, hours, weeks. But he ran out of funyuns a long time ago, and he hadn't seen his roommate either. He was starting to get hungry. But he didn't want to get up until he got into a game. “I'll get up and refill on food and drink after this match.” he promised himself for the third time. Then again, maybe he could get up while it was still queuing, it was taking quite a long time after all, and he had to pee. He got on the forums to see if anyone else was having problems with the servers. After no luck, he finally left his room for the first time in several days.
He looked around the living room. It was completely trashed. No different than normal, but something was off. He took a piss without flushing the toilet or washing his hands. Then went into the kitchen and noticed the fridge was already open. He looked inside without much thought and found the fridge completely empty. “Jack has probably been eating out lately, I'll just wait until the lazy asshat goes to the store. I wonder how long a person can survive without food?”. He went to grab tap water from the faucet and nothing came out. “He hasn't paid for the water either what the hell?” Whatever, he still had half a liter of code red. He went back into his room and he still hadn't gotten a game.
Meanwhile...
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!”, the fat neckbeard screamed. “MOOOOOOOM GODDAMMIT THIS ISN'T FUNNY I WANT SOME CHICK FIL A RIGHT NOW.” His face was red with anger, this stupid game wasn't working and now that bitch was ignoring him. Did she decide that she was going to stop feeding her son? He wiped the sweat off his chins and scratched his neck hair. “MOM I SWEAR TO GOD.” He pick the last bit of cheese from the pizza box, he had been saving that for quite a few hours, now he was out of supplies. He took in a deep breath, he noticed his bucket was starting to stink. She hadn't emptied that either. In fact he probably hadn't seen his mother in 3 or 4 days. He started to get anxious and worried. How much longer would it be before his next meal? He thought about going upstairs and teaching her a lesson, but he hadn't left this basement in years, and he wasn't going to today. It tired him to even lift his head off the back of the couch.
He started to get angry again. He started smashing his keyboard. “WHY ISN'T THIS UTTER PIECE OF SHIT WORKING?!?” The letter P fell off the keyboard and he threw it over on the floor by left alt. “Blizzard is so lazy.” He finally gave up and decide to jerk it. | 2015-12-22T05:46:40 | 2015-12-22T05:26:12 | 201 | 15 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | *Ends hibernation*
*walks into office*
Officer worker 1: HOLY SHIT ANOTHER BEAR!!!
Officer worker 2: Don't worry, I decided I needed to bring a gun to work. It's so weird that 89 other bears have just walked into our office.
**bang bang**
*feels pain, eyes get heavy*
Officer worker 2: WOO! I got number 90! | When I first entered the building that was now to give me money for doing what I had always been doing I got a slight annoyance from the squeaky doors. I proceeded to walk over the large hall to the woman obviously responsible for squeaky doors; the receptionist. I told her that if that door squeaked when I went through it the next time I would fire her. Not that I was in any position to fire her, but she didn't know that.
I walked over to the elevator and pressed the "up" button. It took over 20 seconds for the elevator to arrive. How annoying. I pressed the top button and waited. Remarkable slow elevator, I thought to my self as I was hitting the floor button over and over again.
Finally the elevator came to a grinding halt on floor 35, top floor. The management floor. I took a deep breath as the doors opened and started power walking right to the CEO office. I barked something at the poor secretary sitting outside the door and rammed myself into his office. The man behind looked startled at me and asked; who are you? you can't be here! get out!.
I continued my still uninterrupted powerwalk right to his desk and jumped on top of it. The CEO pushed himself away from the desk and sunk down into his chair as I started yelling.
For a good five minutes I gave him the most "you are the most useless person that has ever lived" speech that has ever been given. After the yelling I jumped off his desk and sat down on his lap, and 10 cm from his face I told him that I was hired by the owners of the company and that this would now become a recurring event: Me coming into his office yelling at him until his numbers started to improve.
This was my first job as an angry man. I have since started my own company and I hire myself out to people that needs someone to yell at someone. I make millions doing this. | 2016-02-22T11:27:02 | 2016-02-22T11:21:32 | 68 | 40 |
[WP] Each person experiences their own length of day. Although everyone wakes at the same time, your day only ends when you fall asleep. The longer you stay awake however, the more dangerous the world seems to get...
Leaving this one more open ended. Perhaps sleeping people are immune to whatever happens to those who decide to stay awake later. Perhaps people only age one day per "day", giving vastly longer lifespans to those who can afford to stay awake longer. What if you have a condition which [prevents you from falling asleep](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fatal_familial_insomnia)? Maybe it all just depends on your point of view. | We are the hunters.
Or, that's what we were called once. Titles and names didn't make much of a difference any more.
We'd been fighting for...as long as I could remember. May as well have been an eternity. Each morning, we wake in what we've come to call the Square. Hundreds of us, armed to the teeth from our past fights. And we'd fight. Not one another, no. The monsters. True monsters; not some trite boogeyman that your son thinks is under his bed.
Many would fall. All of us, in fact. Every night. One by one, we were overwhelmed. And those brave enough to venture out of the Square, simply woke with us in the morning.
Some were happy with this lot. Valhalla, a few compared it to. But in this place, no feasting awaited the victorious. Only an endless night that grew ever-darker.
On this day, I decided to change all of this.
Something, I decided, must have put us here. Or some curse held us fast. Or perhaps it was simply a dream. Whatever the cause, the answer was not in the Square, and so I left.
Time had all but lost its meaning. The night was long, and all but my torch had failed me. If it wouldn't mean the end of all my work to this point, I would have gone to sleep. So tired.
I should've been thankful. Though the monsters grew in strength and ferocity farther from the Square, I had managed to survive to this point. Perhaps I was treading new ground.
I heard a rustling behind me, and instinctively drew my weapon. There wasn't any error to be made; I was the last hunter alive tonight, and if I hesitated, I wouldn't be for long. I ducked and spun to meet the new foe, and heard a huge mass fly over my shoulder, nearly taking me to the ground.
Great. Now it was behind me, again. I plunged the pointed end of my torch into the soft soil and drew a gun, spinning once more. It dashed to swipe at my legs, and was met with a face-full of silver and gunpowder. I managed to follow-up with a few chops of my weapon before it could maneuver into the darkness.
I heard a wispy cackling from where I'd seen it last, and let a shot loose in that direction. The laughter only returned for a moment, before I heard something scampering away. I cursed under my breath and went to retrieve the torch. Best case, it had left and would try to track me down later. Worst case, it would return with help.
I sighed and continued. I wouldn't wait around for them to find me.
I fought nothing more than sleep for the next few minutes as I trudged through the brush, until I finally crested a ridge. I surveyed the latest area, and felt a smile creep across my face. In the middle of a wide plain, a tower sat, only visible by a blue light from inside. The tower, if it wasn't what I was looking for, would lead me there. I was sure of it. | "Dinner's ready George."
"Thanks Dad," he yawned. Oversleeping through dinner again would have been a problem. Getting woken up by having his shoulder slung from side to side was no fun way to wake up.
"How long was your day son?"
"Four hours. Today's another four hour one for a few lectures, then I'll be passing out at Tom's before the social."
His dad peered over a fork full of lasagna. "You're breaking your days up pretty small."
The boy shrugged. "Better safe than sorry." He dug in, taking as much as he could before the commute.
On longer days, the teenager would have napped at Tom's place instead of commuting back home. The Herman's put in some extra cash into their sleep room, their place was closer to campus, and Tom liked having him over. Most importantly, it meant a safer place to rest.
"When shall I expect you back?"
"Hopefully ten hours from now, but I'll let you know."
The man only nodded, understanding the loose deadline. George was still getting over his last long day from a month ago.
---------------------------
"Hey, kid! Go the fuck to sleep!"
*Not yet, I'm almost home! Just --- OH SHIT!*
That pot nearly slammed George's head to the cement. The next thing he knew, George was waking up in a stranger's car, driving somewhere. His head ached. Next to him was another boy his age.
"Sorry," he grinned, showing off a bruised range of knuckles. "Pa showed me how to put someone to sleep."
The woman driving spoke up in a grave tone. "How late were you up kid?"
In his haze, George was able to give her a number.
She spun on him from her seat. "Never do that again you *dumbass!*"
"That's my mom," the boy said shyly. "And I'm Tom, nice to meetcha!"
---------------------------------
As chance encounters go, it was a blessing. George made good friends with the Hermans and was allowed to guest nap at their place between classes. It was fortunate Tom was also attending the local community college. They were able to split group projects between sleeping shifts to keep things simple. Safe.
"You're massaging your head again son."
George had been staring at the salt shaker for the past three minutes. Wolfing down the rest of the cold lasagna, he made a rush for his sleep room. "I gotta go!" George called down the stairs.
"Need a lift?" His dad called back.
"It's fine," the student said between steps back down to the lower level. "I left enough time to commute."
"Alright, just remember --- "
"To rest, got it!" George slammed the door and made his way for the bus. It wouldn't be for another forty minutes until he cursed his forgetfulness.
George forgot to ask his dad how he slept.
*If* he slept. It had been ten hours since he last asked.
The teenager gasped.
Cursing, he punched numbers into his cell phone to call home. Each dial was an eternity. His lungs grew tighter with each passing moment. What were the odds something would happen after he ---
"What's up son?"
"Dad, when was the last time you slept?"
"Hmm. 12 hours I think."
Oh no.
"Go the fuck to sleep."
His dad tutted. "Is that how you speak to your old man?"
"Dad," George pleaded. "Please, I'm begging you to take a nap!"
"Relax kiddo, I'm in the nap room now. Good to see a son cares, but watch your language."
George blushed over the phone, embarrassed by the impression Mrs. Herman had on him a month ago. Still, better than a random domestic disaster to blow up the house. Or worse. Whatever one's worst fears were, the length of the day made it more likely to happen. Manifest paranoia. From sudden concussions to...
"Sleep well dad," he said quietly.
"Thanks George. Good luck in classes today."
After the phone clicked, George smiled with relief. Napping frequently enough, the teenager hoped to keep his dad safe.
It was going to be a good day after all. As long as he kept it short.
--------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
| 2016-03-14T07:57:17 | 2016-03-14T07:48:45 | 179 | 31 |
[WP] Two ancient armies prepare for battle, one army sends out a seven foot tall hulk as their champion; the other army sends out a little girl to raucous applause. | Two armies face each other across a grassy valley. Every footmen, archer, and knight hold their ground as the rays of the sun beat down on them. Evenly matched in both numbers and tactics, the generals agree that they must send a champion to represent their country in a glorious deathmatch.
The front line of the Eastern army divides in two. Then the second line, and then the third, until a well defined path is between the middle of the sea of men. The Western army does the same. And in that path, the champions walked.
From the East, is Maleoth of Ossidia: Slayer of Men, Champion of Seyfron, Iron Conqueror, Son of Gregar: God of War, Tamer of Dragons, the Apostle of Death, Hand of Justice, Servant of Lyxas: the Matriarch, the Head of the Pantheon, Mother of All Things Good and Evil, Baker of Cookies.
From the West, is Shelby. 10 years old.
They looked each other eye to eye. And Maleoth spoke.
“I can’t do this. She’s literally a child,” said Maleoth the Eloquent, the Mouthpiece of Soryo, the Bard of Avon. “You want me to kill a little girl, I just can’t. I can’t even.”
“I suppose it’s one of those situations where the girl is actually deceivingly cunning or quick, and will use those unconsidered variables to best you!” shouted a soldier from the East.
Maleoth looked into Shelby’s eyes. Only innocence. “No. Pretty sure she’s just a little girl. I’m a pretty good judge at this kinda thing,” spoke Maleoth, Judge of the Dead, etc. “What is the meaning of this?”
The Western General, in his Dragonscale armor and Griffin familiar, which he acquired in Book Three, flew down from the heavens. “It is a test. If you slay the girl, the West shall concede, and all the territory shall belong to the East. But really, if you must kill the girl to win, who’s the true winner here, hmm? What a moral dilemma. Man I’d hate to be the person who has to make this choice.”
Maleoth, in his infinite wisdom, raised his middle finger at the General.
The General nodded. “I am offended, but this was all a ruse as we actually have two hidden armies with invisible armor that are outflanking yours anyway.”
And thus, the Great Continental War, which was instigated from a single brawl but was bound to happen due to political and economic reasons that are far too complex to be discussed in one book, ended. | The ground shook with each step Archibald the Man-Eater took towards the battlefield. He dragged his five-foot club alongside him, felling any small trees unfortunate enough to get caught in its path. The rest of the army trailed him from a distance, lest they fall victim to a random timber accident.
"Wonder whom they've brought." Captain Leeds peered through his telescope, and the battlefield ahead sprang into view. The enemy had already congregated at the opposite edge. Leeds's mouth dropped open. In the middle of the field stood the most unlikely candidate for their champion.
"What are you guys playing at?" The moment his army had reached the field, Leeds had called for a meeting with the opposing leader.
"What do you mean?" Captain Marrow adjusted his eyepatch and winked. Or blinked; Leeds couldn't really tell. "Do you need a refresher on proper battle conduct?"
"You know very well what I'm referring to," Leeds snapped, pointing to the field. Archibald had taken a seat in the center of the makeshift arena and was currently gnawing on his club. Across from him, a little girl had mimicked his pose and had begun plucking the petals from a daffodil.
"Yes, that is our champion," Marrow said, closing his eye and nodding, "so are you ready to fight, or do you want to surrender?"
"Oh, I get it." Leeds stood on the tips of his toes and attempted to press his forehead against his slightly taller counterpart's. "You're trying to appeal to our sympathy. Think we're going to surrender to avoid killing this poor, innocent girl." He prodded Marrow's chest. "Think again."
Marrow patted Leeds on the shoulder. "I assure you we intend for a legitimate fight to take place. I'm ready." He glanced at the combatants and whistled. The girl sprang to her feet and gave him a salute. "And so is Selena. Just say the word."
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Leeds spat between his shoes. On the field, Archibald gave him a look of impatience. "Then you're just trying to garner the sympathy of the neighboring territories. Making us look like monsters for killing the girl to gain their alliance, when you're the ones who sent her out here in the first place."
"I don't think anyone is going to break the neutrality agreement regardless of the outcome of this battle." Marrow yawned and looked his pocket-watch. "Anyway, I'm done with this speculation. Selena has a tea party in an hour. Either allow me to begin this match or forfeit."
Leeds wrung his hands and clenched his teeth. It would forever weigh on his conscience to order the death of this poor girl—death by cannibalization at that. He had to, though, for the good of his country. "Go on then."
The two captains shook hands, and Marrow fired a shot into the air to signal the start of the battle. Archibald lumbered towards Selena, clouds of dirt rising with each footstep. She didn't do anything, just stood still, gazing up into the hungry maw of her opponent. Her blank expression remained even as he picked her up and deposited her into his mouth. Archibald gulped, and Selena was gone. Neither of the armies made so much as a sound.
"Well? The jig's up." Leeds placed his hands on his hips and turned to Marrow. "What was your magnificent plan then?"
"Oh, well, seems we were outmatched." Marrow shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Very well. You guys win. If you'll all return home now, we'll visit you in a few days to sign that treaty."
Leeds frowned. "I'd rather sign the treaty in your capital, Marrow."
"Why, that would be an affront to our storied tradition of signing war treaties-"
"She's a time bomb, isn't she?"
Marrow's grin grew even wider. He adjusted his felt cap. "Well, shall we rematch in three days, then?"
Out on the field, Archibald rolled over on his stomach and closed his eyes contentedly. Poor guy. | 2016-06-28T20:09:26 | 2016-06-28T18:37:09 | 44 | 23 |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Mr. President! An urgent message from SETI, through NASA. Top priority, respond as soon as possible. Information attached." The email was brief and contained two image files. You had been putting this off all day but it was time to see what they wanted. You had fought with Congress for two years to double NASA's budget, but according to Congress "nothing had been accomplished proportionate to the budget." Your trust in them had wavered as well during these couple of years and now everything was taken with a grain of salt.
You sigh and open the first image. It was a graph of some kind, which you puzzle over for a second before opening the second. This seemed like an interpretation of the first graph. Your eyes move to the bottom of the image and you see the final output, some sort of message.
>***BE QUIET BEFORE THEY FIND YOU***
was all was written.
*Weird.* You think. You set up a meeting with the director of NASA for the next day and head to bed. This was too much of a mystery.
>>
The next day, you sit and listen as the director, along with the team that deciphered the message spout their science trying to convince you that the message received was legitimate and not a misinterpretation of data. After an hour of back-and-forth you finally speak up, partially to ease the obvious nervousness and desperate on their faces.
"An alien civilization told us to 'shut up' is what you're saying."
"Yes Mr. President. We have shut down our broadcasts but we need you to negotiate to shut off the rest of the world's antennas."
The request was certainly going to be an endeavor and most countries took far longer to be convinced of the fact that extraterrestrials had contacted Earth. NASA continued to listen and monitor the skies, waiting for any more context for the previous message. There was none.
Months into the negotiations, you were sitting in Russia, waiting for your morning coffee to arrive. A man arrived with a cup of coffee, two sugars and no creamer. You reached to take it, but a sudden shaking of the ground caused the hot beverage to splash all over you and the floor.
Another blast knocks you off your chair and onto the floor as the windows burst into shards. A low sound, not unlike that of a horn sounds. It raises in pitch and you scramble to your bed for pillows to cover your ears. Halfway there, the sound stops and three low blasts shake you before a voice clears its throat.
"Are you idiots? You guys practically screamed 'Here we are! Come get us! Idiots. Anyways, tag you're it. I don't think you're going to get anyone though so I think I win. Seriously, how dense are you guys?" | Andrew sat at his computer screen watching the the playback from the deep space radio telescope. The familiar sound of static poured through his headphones. He took a long drink from the lukewarm coffee he had been nursing over the last hour when something changed in the static.
A whisper in an ocean of noise. Andrew almost dismissed it until he heard it again.
"What the..."
He twisted the frequency tuning knob and shut his eyes. Crackling noise, like sitting by a weak campfire.
"Stop."
Andrew knocked over his coffee cup as he jumped out of his chair. The word had come through crystal clear, there was no mistaking it. He clutched the headphones to his ears and waited.
The ethereal voice came through the static again, "he is...coming."
*What? Who is coming?*
Andrew played with the frequency knob again hoping to cut out the background noise, after a few seconds his hand froze on the knob.
"He is coming for you, you should have kept to yourself now he has found you. We tried to stop him, but it has cost us dearly."
Andrew could hear the pain in the man's voice clearly.
"This is the Captain of the Arbiter, you are on your own now Earth...may he have mercy on you all."
The transmission ended.
Andrew scrambled for his phone, he had to call the Director. The phone rang once before it was picked up by the Director.
"Sir, we have an emergency-"
"I know," the Director interrupted.
*How could he possibly know?*
"Forty years..." the Director whispered.
"Sir?"
"Turn the news on Andrew...good luck." The phone went silent.
Andrew spun in his chair and turned the TV on. Every channel was the same thing.
"NASA has discovered an object on a collision course with Earth traveling at incredible speed. Preliminary imaging has returned this" the newscaster paused as an image was brought up on the screen. It was a blurry photo of what looked like a man riding a motorcycle.
"The President of the United States is going to be making a statement."
The video feed switched to the President sitting behind a large wooden desk. Andrew noticed that the room was supposed to look like the Oval office but it was off somehow, the light coming through the windows behind the President didn't seem natural.
"America. It is with a heavy heart that I am addressing you today."
The President sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.
"I am going to be honest with you," he began again, his tone completely different. Fear was plain in his voice.
"I do not know what to expect when he arrives, but it will not be good. I'm sorry. Hug your family, try to get underground, pray."
The video feed of the fake Oval office cut out and returned to a stunned news anchor.
"That was the President of the United States...uh..." there was a long awkward pause as the news anchor searched for something to say.
Andrew stood from his chair and numbly walked out of the office. Years of searching for something and he had found it. *Too late.*
He stepped outside and looked into the sky, the cool night air sent a shiver down Andrew's body. He saw a bright blue streak shooting through the star filled sky. If he hadn't seen the image on the news he would have thought it was a meteor. He watched it get closer and closer, the blue light intensifying every second. The entire Earth felt the thunderclap as it entered the atmosphere. Seconds later he felt the impact. The Earth shifted beneath his feet throwing him to the ground. An explosion of dust billowed out of the massive crater that used to be New York.
The Earth trembled as if it understood.
Dirk had returned.
---
I'm stuck on writing about a character I created a few days ago that I fell in love with. [Dirk the Star Rider](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4w166x/part_1_wp_you_possess_the_very_rare_quality_of/)
| 2016-08-07T04:59:55 | 2016-08-07T03:35:35 | 194 | 60 |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | The message was unmistakable. Transmitted on 10 different frequencies in 27 different languages, all saying the same thing, "Be quiet before they find you".
Three hours later a second message. "You have less than 6 hours to shut down all broadcasts, otherwise they will find you".
The message was genuine, and apart from a few crackpot conspiracists, every scientist across the US, in fact across the globe was drafted in, along with every TV and radio network; anything that could or was transmitting was silenced with less than 3 minutes to go.
The president hovered near the SETI receiving system, waiting for a message, any message. Time ticked by and the deadline passed.
The president bit his lip. Would the mysterious communicator send another message or was that it?
"Beep", said the receiving computer and another message appeared on the screen.
"They didn't rescue you. Now you belong to us".
Edit: Decapitalized. thanks
| "The computer's finished, come over here."
"What does it say, Will?"
"I don't know yet, come take a look."
"I bet we're gonna be disappointed again. Just another slow pulsar, all the signals are."
"Nah, I'm sure of it, this one's different."
"Well, open it up then, let's see what it says."
The message on the computer screen read
'PATTERN NOT RECOGNISABLE FROM STAR DATABASE
NO MATCHES FOR
PULSAR
QUASAR
MAIN SEQUENCE STARS
BLACK HOLE/SUPERNOVA
ATTEMPTING LANGUAGE DECODE
The two stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds, shocked.
"I told you Sandra, it's something new, not a star or some other celestial object."
"Should we call someone? We could have the whole NASA team here in minutes!"
"No, no not yet, wait to see what it says. If we call a big team down here, someone will end up tweeting it. Probably Ted, you know what he's like."
"Fair enough, how long will language decode take?"
Her speech was punctuated by the 'ping' sound the computer made as it finished language decode.
MESSAGE DECIPHERED
READABLE IN 23 LANGUAGES
MESSAGE READS:
Be i t before thhe yy eat you
"What's that supposed to mean? They'll eat us? Who's gonna eat us? Is there any other signal, any other information?"
"No, look how it's written, it's missing letters, the data must be corrupted, I'll try and retranslate it."
ATTEMPTING DATA FIX
RETRANSLATING
MESSAGE READS
Be quiet before they find you
"Is that worse? What will hear us?"
"Whatever else is listening, presumably."
"Can we establish a connection back to the sender? Where did it come from?"
"Sector 43 Beta A. It's the current transmit point for Acreibo. It's... It's a reply."
"Send something back, quick! I'll… call everyone?"
"Yeah. Everyone. Including acreibo, get them to stop transmitting for a while."
"Are you sure? They'll be pissed."
"They'll be more pissed if a flying saucer turns up and wrecks there transmitter, go call them."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Write a reply. Hopefully no one else find it." | 2016-08-07T08:06:13 | 2016-08-07T06:26:37 | 70 | 52 |
[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way. | 'I see you want to go to hell?'
'Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone messed up. I shouldn't be here. I hate *everyone,* no one does anything out of line and no matter what I do, I'm forgiven immediately and there seems to be absolutely nothing I can do to cause trouble or upset, I've had enough.'
'Right... So, you've been a bad person on earth - you fully expected to wind up in hell but you didn't, instead finding yourself bathed in God's heavenly glow and forgiveness where the angels show you the path of light and good. This bothers you greatly because no matter what you do, you can't do anything that makes you happy? Am I correct, sir?'
'Yes! Absolutely one hundred percent correct I've never been this unhappy and I wish to transfer to hell.'
'Well, sounds to me like you're already there, buddy. Access denied.' | "Listen here old man. Let me go to hell," said the man before the gatekeeper.
"And why would I do that?"
"My brother is down there. I'm going to get him out."
He looked down at the man before him. He'd led quite the life. Had been to many places, both on the Earth, higher up, lower, and in between. He knew the brother too. If anything, he felt the brother should have been sent down, not the man before him. The things he's done. So what if he was the chosen one? But, the order came from higher up, so he quietly complied.
"No. You're not going," said the gatekeeper.
"Come on man. It's my baby brother. He risked his life to make sure that millions of people on Earth wouldn't come flooding through your gates. He made sure the world didn't end. He *sacrificed* himself to make sure that people are still able to buy their Starbucks lattes and porno mags. He doesn't deserve to go to hell for that."
"Still not a good enough reason for me to let you enter Hell."
"Look, if anything I deserve to be in that pit, not him. I've done some nasty things in my life, things I'll never forgive myself for. But he's good. He doesn't deserve it!"
"You passed The Test, he didn't."
The man walked very close to the gatekeeper, and looked him in the eyes.
"If you don't let me go down there, then I'll be raising hell."
"That's cute."
"Try me."
The gatekeeper pondered for a moment. This man could most certainly cause quite some trouble. He knew things not many others did.
"Very well. You may proceed."
The man silently walked to the doorway that opened up beside the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper smiled to himself. Their bond was thicker than that of Cain and Abel. And besides, even if he did send him to hell, God would bring them back to Earth anyway. To keep doing what they do.
Saving people, hunting things. The family business.
The man turned around.
"Oh yeah, I'm bringing Cas too."
"The angel?!"
"Gonna need all the help I can get to save Sammy."
The gatekeeper wordlessly summoned Castiel. And with that, Dean entered Hell, not for the first time, with an angel by his side.
-------------------------------------------
Feedback welcome! :D | 2016-09-29T00:47:27 | 2016-09-29T00:05:19 | 26 | 19 |
[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way. | "Listen here old man. Let me go to hell," said the man before the gatekeeper.
"And why would I do that?"
"My brother is down there. I'm going to get him out."
He looked down at the man before him. He'd led quite the life. Had been to many places, both on the Earth, higher up, lower, and in between. He knew the brother too. If anything, he felt the brother should have been sent down, not the man before him. The things he's done. So what if he was the chosen one? But, the order came from higher up, so he quietly complied.
"No. You're not going," said the gatekeeper.
"Come on man. It's my baby brother. He risked his life to make sure that millions of people on Earth wouldn't come flooding through your gates. He made sure the world didn't end. He *sacrificed* himself to make sure that people are still able to buy their Starbucks lattes and porno mags. He doesn't deserve to go to hell for that."
"Still not a good enough reason for me to let you enter Hell."
"Look, if anything I deserve to be in that pit, not him. I've done some nasty things in my life, things I'll never forgive myself for. But he's good. He doesn't deserve it!"
"You passed The Test, he didn't."
The man walked very close to the gatekeeper, and looked him in the eyes.
"If you don't let me go down there, then I'll be raising hell."
"That's cute."
"Try me."
The gatekeeper pondered for a moment. This man could most certainly cause quite some trouble. He knew things not many others did.
"Very well. You may proceed."
The man silently walked to the doorway that opened up beside the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper smiled to himself. Their bond was thicker than that of Cain and Abel. And besides, even if he did send him to hell, God would bring them back to Earth anyway. To keep doing what they do.
Saving people, hunting things. The family business.
The man turned around.
"Oh yeah, I'm bringing Cas too."
"The angel?!"
"Gonna need all the help I can get to save Sammy."
The gatekeeper wordlessly summoned Castiel. And with that, Dean entered Hell, not for the first time, with an angel by his side.
-------------------------------------------
Feedback welcome! :D | The gatekeeper looked at me, a faint hint of amusement mixed in the confusion his multiple faces displayed.
"I sift through applications after applications for transfer, all of them apologetic dissidents, some sincere, some foolish but all of them trying to escape hell and enter heaven." The middle face said, while the face on his right kept going through paper after paper and the one on his left stared at the my application. "But never has there been anyone who asked to the opposite, this is the first time isn't it Henry?" The middle face looked at the left face who replied, "Right you are Frank, this would be the very first time."
"Interesting. Interesting, pull up his file."
All of a sudden, I was surrounded by indecipherable symbols and graphs and charts appeared beside me. I stood in front of the three faced guardian of the gate as Frank seemingly manipulated the symbols to provide him with what I could only assume as different information regarding my life. Without any discernable effort, my hologram changed from me as a baby until my inevitable death at the hands of a drunk driver. Frank gently settled on one of his fists, his brows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought as he scanned through my life multiple times.
"Adam Richards, male, single, died at the young age of 23. Good son. Good brother. Stayed out of trouble for most of your life. Three relationships, one of them a short fling, shortly after your last relationship."
Jenny, I thought. Her radiant smile and warm hugs were always a welcome repose from the loneliness and depression that followed my relationship with Alice's wake. She wasn't Alice, not by a long shot. But human touch becomes something you crave after being denied for so long.
"Maybe he could go to hell for that?" Henry asked out loud.
"True. True. Hell is always big on adulterers." He whispered as the images beside me seemingly dissolved after his steely gaze focused on me. "May I ask why you would like to transfer to Hell and live eternity without God's presence and grace?"
"Based on current circumstances."
"And what circumstances would that be?"
"Alice's recent admission to heaven."
"You dare compare God's infinite grace to a mortal's?" The right face interjected, her face marked with fury. "How dare you!"
"Quit being so melodramatic, everyone here has dealt with heartbreak. Yours is not as special as you would think it is." Henry said in a mocking tone, "How pathetic."
"You don't understand. This is hell to me. I can't pretend feeling fine or okay everytime I see her. I can't just smile everytime she kisses him. It's killing me inside."
"You would rather suffer the flames of hell rather than spend eternity in Heaven?"
"If you would let me, yes."
"You do not understand what you are asking for child."
"I find more peace without her than with her. Please. This is torture. You must let me."
"Mmm. This has turned out to be a real dilemma."
"Just make him stay here, he'll get over it."
"Or grant his wish and let his torture be his regret." She says in a cold and dismissive tone.
"Please."
"Open the gates. I leave the choice to you child, do what you will. You would be foolish to stray away from the presence of God but it is foolish as well to not be true to yourself."
I stared beyond the open gates,heard the distant cries for help and forgiveness, smelled the faint odor of burning rubber, and saw my salvation.
__________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading, I'm trying to get back to writing again after such a long break, please let me know if you have any comments or criticisms, or what you thought of it.
Much love and appreciation.
| 2016-09-29T00:05:19 | 2016-09-28T23:10:04 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You time travel 1000 years into the future to discover there is only one country. Canada. | Chris couldn't believe his eyes. *It worked,* he thought. His initial anxiety slowly turned into cautious optimism as he stepped out of his makeshift time-machine. They all told him it couldn't be done. They told him even if time travel were possible, his stupid machine crafted from a Real Doll with a toaster in its "holster", powered by exactly 2.39 liters of Mountain Dew was not scientifically sound. To put things bluntly, the exact word they used to describe his time-machine was "retarded".
He looked down to see grass and was very thankful. To him, this was a sign leaning towards the environment still being intact. His gaze then panned upward, revealing a lush, beautiful landscape for as far as the eye could see. Birds chirped gleefully in the distance as he began to traverse the landscape. The thing he loved the most about this place was the air, which was so fresh it was almost...*sweet*
After a few enjoyable hours of walking that felt like minutes, Chris finally stumbled upon a town. The town was unlike anything he had seen before. Sure, it had children playing, teenage and young adult couples holding hands, senior citizens feeding birds, but *different*. The playing children were levitating, the couples were gesturing as if they were conversing without saying a word, and though it may have been in Chris' mind, all the elderly seemed surprisingly spry.
"You ah...need some help there, friendo?" a voice asked, pulling him out of his stupor. He looked to his left to see a friendly smiling man in a mesmerizing flannel shirt. The pattern on the shirt was moving, not unlike a music visualizer.
"Yeah, my dude. Nothing urgent," Chris replied, "but I have no idea what to make of any of this. You see, I'm not from...er, now. I'm an American time-traveler from the year 2016". He figured a nice fellow from a town that had an overall nice ambiance would believe him, or at least play along to humor him.
"Well, buddy, you're in luck. You're in Canada, Thirty-one-sixteen. We call it 998PCA, which stands for Post-Canadian-Ascension. Of course, it'd be hard to say you're anywhere but Canada. Y'see, two years after the time you left, The American President was caught in her 400th email scandal - a plot to invade Pre-Ascension Canada using what we now call a distraction-killing, to leave her citizens in the dark."
Reeling from the information, Chris hung on every word as the man continued. "So any who, after the plot was exposed, Your people revolted against her. Led by a great man, they succeeded in ousting her, but at the cost of one Canadian life. That man vowed that every country should be like Canada. Aboat a year later, a UN conference was held by the man who led that revolution. Sorey about the Canuck who lost her life, they voted unanimously to make every country Canada."
Chris' palms were sweaty. Out of breath from mild shock, he mustered up the energy to ask one question. "S-so who was the man who led the revolution?"
The man beamed, "That man was my thousand year ancestor: Donald Trump! I'm Terrence Trump, but you can call me Trip. I'm the mayor of this town. Please, enjoy some poutine, on me! The only thing I ask of you is to-"
"Get up!"
The world around Chris faded to black, then slowly began to reappear. His head felt like every nerve was on edge, his hands were sticky with Mountain Dew and felt like he grabbed a bug zapper. He felt foggy and managed to mumble, "Cana-huh?" weakly. He looked up to see his girlfriend staring down worriedly at him, and then across the garage where his Real Doll lay, charred beyond recognition.
"You...!" She stammered through tears as Chris still tried to make sense of his surroundings. "I thought you were dead!" she scolded through choked sobs. "One of these days your stupid inventions are going to get you killed!!"
*fin* |
“So this is it Jason, you’re likely our last hope. You have only four hours to find out how our country resolved the three major crisis before you will be brought back to us and we put the resolutions into immediate effect”.
“Yes sir, Mr. President. I’ll do our country proud”.
“I’m sure you will son. I’m sure you will”.
The engineer pulled the switch and the machines subtle hum ramped up to a full blown roar as the world before Jason’s eyes blew past him like torrential rain, the sensation was peculiar but lasted only a moment. When the world reassembled before his eyes he was startled to find he something looking down on him. In a sharp panic he fumbled his way from the chair in one swift yet graceless motion, his head began to spin and he almost slipped out of consciousness, such a rapid movement was probably not recommended after such intense time travel. He closed his eyes and regained his composure somewhat only to realise he now stood before three men covered from head to toe in yellow HAZMAT suits.
“Mr. Stanton? Jason Stanton? Is that your name? Eh.
Yes, Jason said in something barely above a whisper looking more confused than ever.
“So its true Ey, the Yankees actually did manage a whole 1000-year time leap Ey”. HAZMAT 2 said to the others.
“Welcome to the year 3020 Mr. Stanton, we need to take you out of here now Ey, because of the radiation, you know. So would you please put on this suit for us Ey?” Said Hazmat 1 before he smiled hospitably and added “Or you don’t need to Ey, whatever works for you”.
Despite the confusion Jason decided it was probably best to don the suit and follow the three men. He was gently escorted from the remains of the run down laboratory which had once sat deep bellow Langley HQ and was taken into a red and white helicopter, emblazoned with a huge Maple leaf. They were well and truly into their journey before Jason even said a word, he had been transfixed with the view, and not for the right reasons. Everything bellow them was in ruin, there was barely a building left standing above 10 feet and there was most certainly not a single person to be seen.
“It’s a lot to take in, Ey?” HAZMAT 3 said finally breaking his concentration.
“What…what happened?” Jason muttered
“Well it’s going to be hard for you to accept this Jason but you never managed to resolve the 3 Major Crisis. Ey.
The drought was probably the worst of the three, it was the start you see. The drought led to the famine and the famine led to desperation, and as I suppose you can see below us the desperation led to war. Nuclear war. Ey”. HAZMAT 3 said in a friendly and regretful tone.
“And now we’re the only ones left, Ey”. HAZMAT 1 added.
“The Canadians are the only ones left?” Jason exclaimed in shock.
“How did you know were Canadian, Ey?” HAZMAT 2 said pleasantly surprised as he pulled out a box of 12 jelly filled donuts from under his seat and gleefully began to dig in.
The other two lost their train of thought entirely as the moved in for the donuts in tandem.
“The, erm… Flag on the helicopter gave it away I suppose.” Jason answered
“Ahh, that makes sense” Said HAZMAT 2 through a mouthful of dough and jelly.
“You had best be saving me some of those nuts Ey, or I won’t be very happy” Said a voice yelling through from the front of the chopper, coming from the man who Jason figured must have been the pilot.
HAZMAT 2 obliged to the request and passed the remains of the box through to the front, the helicopter dipped and rattled a little as the pilot went to work on the two remaining donuts, the HAZMAT 3 looked unfazed but Jason was sure they were going to crash before the chopper levelled out and regained its altitude.
“So how did Canada survive the Crisis then?” Jason said, trying to bring the conversation around to his mission briefing.
“Well, we never really had a drought, Ey. We have quite a lot of water and not so many people Ey”.
“But what about the war?”
“Well I guess nobody really wanted to bomb us, which was nice of them Ey?” HAZMAT 3 explained.
“So why would they want to bomb the U… Never mind” Jason said as he answered his own question before rethinking what he wanted to know.
“Is there any way that America could have survived as well?”
The three men shared a solemn glance. “well we knew you would want to know all this so we prepared a kind of dossier for you, but we don’t think you will like what you read, Ey.”
HAZMAT 1 had been right, Jason did not much like the folder. It showed that there was less than a 3% chance that the USA was to come through the fall, in fact it showed that almost all the countries in the world had less than a 10% chance. It was only Canada that had managed it and they themselves only boasted a 46% chance.
Jason looked dejected, it was hopeless, it was pointless returning home now. He could only give them bad news.
“Say, why don’t you just stay here Ey?”
“I can’t do that, I need to go back, I don’t know what to do but I need to warn them at least”.
“It’s not so simple you know, there’s nothing you can do.”
As the realisation his Jason that he couldn’t change the past and maybe the best thing to do was embrace a new life here, his vision began to blur and the world whizzed past him as he was dragged back to his own doomed world.
| 2016-10-09T00:14:51 | 2016-10-08T23:49:38 | 512 | 39 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "I'll try to explain ... the problem is ... it's not THAT you can travel faster than light." the small alien said, sheepishly. "It's how you do it."
She continued, "To be honest, it's creepy."
Doug stared at her blankly. "Go on ..."
"Ok , you know how FTL works for the rest of us, right?" She cocked her head a bit.
Doug listened to her, but wasn't really paying attention - his mind was on her, specifically, how similar she was to him and every other human. Aliens, or rather 'intelligent beings' it turns out, had generally fallen in to two categories: humanoid, and swarm. For the most part, all humanoids looked the same: slender, upright, various colors of skin and eyes depending on the their home star's primary color, even oddly similar genitalia. Evolution, it seemed, preferred a certain shape. Humans were a little bit odd by galactic standards because of their size relative to other humanoids - roughly three times the size and five times the mass of other humanoids.
"... are you listening at all?", She snapped. Her shrill tone popped Doug back in to the situation.
"Yeah! No .. got it .. creepy." He paused for a moment. "But it's not like we're actually doing that, right? No one is watching anyone in the shower, or in some secret war room, or anything like that."
Most alien FTL drives worked by manipulating spacetime in such a way as to compress the space in front of the ship, or expand the space behind it, or warp it n such a way that the local (to the ship) speed of light wasn't exceeded; it was space itself that was altered and the ship just rode the wave. A lot of alien corporation marketed this technology in many ways under many names, Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy.
Rather than warp anything, humanity's FTL solution was, essentially, to flatten the universe relative to the ship, allowing the ship to view the universe as a sheet of paper. In doing so, the ship could pick a point in the universe and appear there nearly instantly. Most of the transit time was spent simply finding a place to go.
There was, a side effect. By pushing a ship up in this way, the entire universe became viewable down to the atom. Meaning that at any point, someone in a human ship could be watching someone else take a shower, or plan a war, or really -- anything, anytime, anywhere. It was unsettling, to almost everyone.
"I get your point though." Doug said.
She was fairly attractive as far as aliens go, and one of the taller species around. He figured he'd peek in on her next transit. Surely she takes showers.
| “Shit, there goes another one.” General Turr mumbled to, Taek, his first officer, “They’re getting a lot more accurate, they used to miss by a few thousand kilometres.”
Turning the ship towards the newly arrived HomoSapien space liner, the Exerprise H56, the Kantian war ship set about tracking the liner and getting all of its clearances and passes checked.
“Yeah, but they are still missing the safe zones. If it weren’t for the jelly shields of the Salec’s their FTL travel would’ve been banned.”
The liner is easily one of the smallest ships currently docked at the way spacion, the HomoSapiens had only discovered their FTL travel 20 years ago. The Kantian’s, Salec’s, Maltuin’s and Delfanit’s were shocked, never thinking that a species with only two arms could create such technology.
“It’s Unorthodox, Unsafe and Damn Stupid! It UUDS!” The council meetings had been plagued with these words for ages.
Taek, going through each clearance code with a meticulousness that only he could, motions to the debris trail left behind the liners “If we shared our technology with them, they could travel through the gates.”
“It would also decrease the bloody clean-up required each time.”
“You know we can’t, the treaty stands and the human ships aren’t dense enough to handle the radiation.” The general replies, not mentioning that the few ships that have tried it crashed into each other.
“How, exactly do they even travel this far anyway? It would seem that their ships and bodies wouldn’t be able to handle the forces.” Taek asks for the millionth time.
“Well, they have this theory of relativity, which says the faster you travel the more mass you have. It overcomplicated all of their scientific endeavours.” The general begins, earning a collective moan from everyone awake in the warships control room.
“So when they started travelling at close to light speed they just assumed that they couldn’t travel as fast or faster. They built engines that can get to 80% the speed of light, which is something our ships do with impulse engines.”
“That only took them to the edge of their own solar system, something admirable but it still confined them to their own corner. The Salec wave riders were considering helping them to travel faster, however, about 21 years ago when they sent a probe ship, they found rings the size of moons being placed on the edges of their solar system.” He pauses to ensure that Taek is still listening, which of course he is.
“Curious the Salec’s stood back and watched. The humans had somehow discovered how to warp space but only between two set places. Their warp drives also temporarily increased their speed to 3 FTL, which they still haven’t entirely realised.”
This next bit is where the council is still struggling to accept the HomoSapiens as a race, the council usually worked well together on making decisions, but dangerous travel that still worked was a grey area. Every other race were too cautious to attempt something unkown.
“Well, to start traversing through space, the humans would travel from their home planet at the maximum speed they can travel. Aiming straight for the warp gates, at first, but eventually at different angles. This caused them to easily travel to new solar systems. It also made it difficult for them to actually stop.”
“Which is why their first three ships flew straight into, in order or severity, the council war fleet, the council’s moon of operations and the dwarf star of the Antraci system. Total count of death combined was well over 100-million.”
“Of course after catching the attention of the council and several other alien races the HomoSapiens eventually made contact with us and we were able to stop their exploration ships before more damage could be caused. The thing that surprised most races was that after three failed attempts the humans were still attempting FTL travel.”
“It wasn’t until first contact that the Salec’s realised that humans were still using Radio waves to communicate across vast distances. But, that advancement in their tech is a whole different story and involves several strange messages that either offended everyone or caused peace treaties to be made with the Andromeda Galaxy.”
- Recorded on the bridge of the JJK98 Farbelus Warship, 200 0000 km long, conversation between General of Knowledge Turr and his First Officer of memory Taek. Annotations and missing information filled in my Salec History Keeper Urder V, the second.
| 2017-03-31T02:57:21 | 2017-03-30T23:17:22 | 95 | 37 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | Captain Lance sat there before the council of Species, listening to them talk in their many differnt forms of communication, he basically ignored the translation machine since none of the conversation was being targeted at him at the moment, he was getting tired, cranky, and hungry as it'd been five hours since the prototype ship arrived, it had worked a little too well and shot him farther than the intended jump was meant to take him. He couldn't even communicate with earth when he'd arrived. One of the aliens, a tall blue creature that looked like an evolved snail whom became humanoid but kept a shell, turned its three stalked eyes towards him and spoke in a weird language that sounded like water dripping and popcorn being smooshed under a shoe at the same time. The translation device said, "Tell us again how the ship you arrived in works, to the best of your knowledge."
Captain Lance groaned, "Listen I told you I don't know the specifics very well, but I'll explain it the best I can remember them trying to tell me. They created an micro artifical sun, surrounded it with a thing they call a Dyson sphere, put it in a thing they call a condensed hyper particle accelerator, and shot some sort of atom thingy they called a higgs boson at it, the higgs boson penetrates the surface of the sphere, goes through the artificial sun, and it creates some weird energy they call the hyper wave, it gets shuffled into the engine and propels the ship by and makes it ghost like or something. They call it a hyper particle drive. Its more complicated than what I explained but that's all I really paid attention too, honestly, I'm just a pilot, and not exactly their best. I'm what they consider an acceptable loss, only reason It was a manned flight instead of automated was because if it made the jump, they wanted to make sure it could be turned around and returned without relying on the automated systems which can fail. Which I would have done except the minute I jumped, the ship rematerialized in the middle of one of your luxury cruise space ships, and ruined some purple headed kids birthday party. The ship and I were then collected by one of your council patrol ships, and we were brought here. Im tired, im hungry, I just want to get back on the ship, point it towards home and fire up the drive. I guarantee everyone on Earth are freaking out about their 6 billion dollar prototype disappearing and not having any data... or at least I don't think they have data, I couldn't contact them."
The slug nodded and turned to the others who had been listening intently, they started talking again, "Dangerous" "Morons" "What kind of backwoods idiot species would develop something that reckless and just use it without better safety measures in place."
Captain Lance sighed as they continued to talk, a heated debate about whether to let him go in his ship, or be escorted back via one of their own. The argument against both seemed to indicate that they thought Humans where a danger to themselves and if left to their own devices, the rest of the galaxy. This was going to be a long night he thought. | 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-30T23:11:33 | 42 | 28 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "So, about the humans..." Said a voice with diplomatic neutrality.
Groans from a myriad of different species' voices could be heard throughout the conference hall. There was a meeting being held on how to properly welcome these new, strange creatures now that they had, technically, at least, achieved Faster Than Light travel.
"We organised this meeting to discuss them! When are you all going to stop pussyfooting around the issue!?" The same voice declared, with a level of anger hard to believe considering their tone mere seconds ago.
"Blarpart, I know you're a workaholic and all that but have you SEEN these...creature's form of FTL "travel"?" A gruff voice from somewhere in the hall responded over the din of arguing and groans of "are we really fucking doing this?"
"I agree that it's...unconventional but-"
The word "unconventional" being used to describe human beings' method of intergalactic travel caused an uproar among the crowd.
"Hey! HEY! HEYYYYYY!" Interjected Blarpart with an odd mixture of rage, impatience and exhaustion. "It works for them, who are we to judge?"
"Don't you get it? They use possibly the most unstable thing in the universe, a wormhole, and pump it with a load of who knows what to make it last more than a nanosecond and to a greater size than a few atoms and just *sigh* go through it and hope for the best"
"As I said, uncon-" Blarpart thought better of using *that* word again and instead chose to deflect the conversation in the hopes of finishing and grabbing something from a Space Denny's on the way home.
"Ok, how about we just ignore them? They're not going to last long as a species if THAT'S how they traverse space. From our observations, their 'wormhole jumping' has about an 80% chance of failure. All in favour?"
A chorus of relieved "aye"s reverberated throughout the room.
"All opposed?"
...
"Well then, that settles i-"
"YOU FUCKING WOT, M8?" A voice shouted from just outside the hall.
"Can I go without being interrupted for ONE MINUTE?" Blarpart said in an exasperated sigh.
And with that, a duo of humans, one tall with brown hair and the other short with black hair, burst into the hall with their bottles of what they call "Mountain Dew" and bags of "Doritos" and started going on about how we can't "diss" them like that.
"You know what? Fuck these alien squares, wanna go piss into a black hole?" The taller one said.
"Yeah, dude. Definitely." The shorter one replied with an almost endearing level of excitement at the prospect.
And with that, the duo left as quickly as they had entered.
"What just happened?" A member of the crowd ask with a disbelieving tone.
"...Humanity. Humanity happened" said Blarpart, with yet another sigh.
Spelling and removing the pretentious "fin". | The inhabitants of Oflesq station heard what they had come to learn was the characteristic sound of imminent human arrival. No one understood it. A vast mooing, defying the supposed absence of sound travel in empty space. A mooing that sent chills down both of their spines; as if it were the old gods that had come, calling at last for the reckoning of all things. Two humans galloped into the hangar.
They were quickly escorted into the conference room, and after being joined by a single alien, the thick door was shut and locked. "This is the man?" Efroi asked. "Correct," said the tall, large human. Efroi knew the type; this one could be trusted, given the right compensation. But the other one...
"Hi, I'm Joey." Joey absentmindedly spit onto the floor.
Efroi made an assessment. This human was not like the others that it had seen; there was a certain change of mannerism, at once both carefree and uncomfortable with a complete lack of social grace and general awareness. This seemed to be his first time wearing a suit. It's first impression was of an uneducated common worker, yet it could detect that he probably did have an intimate knowledge of cows.
"Hi Joey, we would like to talk about your cows today. Could you... explain? I would like to know how they work and how you created them."
"Welp, you see, we humans 'ad made large advancements towards time travel. But it's impossible, see. You can change tha rate of time flow, but ya can't twist it back on itself. So I got to thinkin. I got these cows, see. Me and my family been breedin cows a long time. Tryina get the better cows, the best cows. I figure, why not speed up the process a little bit. So I throw some cows in there, in the device I mean, and an AI for the selective breedin. Set the dial the farthes it would go. I open the thing up two seconds later and boom. FTL cows."
*That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.* Efroi looked over to the other human, who remained expressionless. "So, um, how did you aquire one of these time manipulating devices, Joey?"
"I made it m'self. Not commercially available, see. Read up on the principles of it and got to work. Took a bit of work, too. To enclose the whole area, y'know. Set up a self sustainin environment, self sustainin robotics. Don't get me started on the energy source. People saw what I was doin, called me crazy. Now they're ridin *my* cows. They're the best cows in the universe, I reckon."
Efroi wouldn't believe it, none of it, if these humans hadn't just rode into the hangar on a couple of space cows. This man must be one of the best his species has to offer. "So, how do these cows work? What principle allows them to travel faster than light? How do they survive the vacuum of space, and the humans who ride on top of them? How do they fill the voids of space with their mooing?"
"Honestly, I ain't got a clue. No one does. The cows are in-comprehensible. Evolution works in mysterious ways. And the cows were in there quite a long time, see."
"How long... do you estimate?" Efroi began to feel even more unwell.
"Well, my internal clock ran out of memory space. It was only 64 petabytes but it was only designed to record the exponent of 10 for the number-"
"This is insane." Efroi stood up. "The cows are perfect beings, at least in this one respect. Do you realize the potential of this method? What it could do to the universe? You humans have kept this secret, yes? This information cannot be revealed again. This cannot be done again."
"But it ha-"
"Thank you for having us, Efroi. But this is all the information we are willing to disclose at this time," The tall human interrupted. "The cows are sacred beings who chose the simple dairy farmer Joey as their prophet, to usher in a new age for humanity. That is the official story, and you would do well to maintain that, Efroi," The tall man said. *That's the second stupidest thing I've ever heard.*
For the rest of its days, Efroi was forever haunted by the mooing that echoed amongst the stars, and the prophecy that it foretold. | 2017-03-31T10:44:01 | 2017-03-31T07:04:11 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] You are trying to hold together an empire so big that no man can travel through it in a livetime. From what you hear, it keeps expanding. | The throne hurts. It always has. A hideous protrusion that dominates the far side of the royal chamber, both a symbol of office and where duties are completed for the flunkies scuttle and scurry about. It wasn't always thus. I remember, in youth, being free. Going where the wind would take me, exploring a world beyond measure. Everything seemed so infinite, once. Now I see only the same four walls every day.
"Your majesty." Flunkie 1 - does he really need a name? - attends. I give the slightest of nods, barely perceptible but enough to indicate he can speak to me. "Another triumph for our glorious Red Army. We march in a parade of victory. We march in your name. We march..."
"Get on with it," I sigh. I've heard this before. Victory upon victory. An ever-expanding, ever more powerful union of the empire. Rivals crushed, their fallen soldiers a pile of bodies upon which we storm their fortifications and factories, the workers scuttling away in fear. It gets tedious after a while.
"Of course, m'am. There's no sign of rebellion in the colonies, they remember where they came from."
"Why wouldn't they? They are all ruled by royal blood. A bloodline that has been passed down, unbroken, since my mother's mother's days. The new rulers remember the womb that gave them life."
"Indeed. Though some do ask whether we should... expand the gene pool..."
"OFF WITH HIS HEAD!" I howl. One thing I cannot tolerate is treason. Blasphemy. For I rule all the land that we know, all the land beyond. Does that not make me a God? Would they not give their lives for me, and willingly, without question? Isn't that what Godhood is? Immediately he is seized, his head severed from his now-lifeless corpse. Others take it from my presence, lest it offend me.
Flunkie 2 begins. "Praise your majesty, we..."
"Cut to the chase."
"Of course. M'am, your empire now expands beyond the limits our workforce can even imagine. In the 20 glorious years of your reign, we have expanded to dominate the verges. The summer's sun's rays bless you. Our mighty cities rebuff the harshness of winter. And now our lands expand further than a worker's lifetime."
"You mean?"
"Yes, m'am. Your empire expands beyond this 'Cedar Road'. Beyond the gardens and hedges, beyond 'the woods', even beyond the great swing in the playpark. It would take a worker ant five weeks to journey its length. The empire of the ants is triumphant!"
Of course it is. Of course we rule all. From the houses of the dumb humans to the occasional skirmishes with their canines. Of course their insurgencies of boiling water and stompy feet occasionally foil us, but we have never lost a battle where we were not already prepared to sacrifice the entire army if necessary.
And now it extends. Extends to the land beyond. The land from which I flew, all those years ago, to settle here, in the dirt, and give birth to my children.
I wonder. In another ten years, will my empire reach the hive from which I flew? I wonder if mother is still alive. And if she is, what she would make of her daughter now. | [ok guys, I thought this was really good and it's kinda making me irrationally mad that clearly isn't seen as the case. So give some critism here, was it the spelling mostakes?]
This is bullshit. Fucking bullshit. I didn't ask to be leader but I rose to the challenge and did my best, I made mistakes, I was upfront about them, told everyone I was just a mortal man and that anyone with a willingness to learn and had a good heart could do my job.
I strongly considered looking for a replacement, I was loved as the hero of the realm when all I really did was not take no shit when the fighting started.
The people of this world were idealistic to say the least. They believed that I would make things better and that we were all in it together, a common saying for my first 5 years was "A flower needs time to bloom, a leader needs time to learn."
I did, it sucked, I now had an area I figured from the maps was the size of alaska. Then it got bigger, we were attacked, I attacked back, we won, took over the land and again, I was seen as a hero. This time by the other nation's people.
When really I was just protecting myself and showing attacks won't go unpunished. I should have noticed the problem right then and there. But I didn't.
WHY did this country attack me? They had NO reason. The source: Revolutionaries found a new way to win.
Piss off the government, cite I was doing something wrong, incite the top 1% and their leaders to attack me. I attack back. Revolutionaries run a smear campaign on their own government and pro-propaganda on mine. The people see me as a hero, the powerful see me as a menance.
This happened off and on for 7 years. It was called the insanity wars. To fight me was death to its leaders and almost no one, intelligent as they may be, could see WHY any country would fight me when I never outright attacked anyone.
After the first 3? countries, any country about to attack me was met with dissonance by its citizens. Then "proof" started to pop up that the leaders attacked in secret. All lies of course, I would know if we were attacked. Now MY people want to fight the "evil" country.
But I refused, I wasn't going to be manipulated by a 3rd party like that. I had my top advisor for diplomatic nations put out a message, one where I knew these, I don't know, manifest destiny motherfuckers would see: "Try and convince my citizens another country is evil again and I'll step down."
There were so many tactics and resources being used, that I realized that it had to be criminal, the only empire I figured that rivaled my own until after the insanity wars.
After that, I essentially ruled the size mass of the entire landmass of my last world, all 7 continents combined. The sheer size of this fucking planet was insane.
I finally had the correct thought, during the insanity wars. "What if someone is doing this just to take over the world? They probably are going to kill me and take over after I have everything."
Well the war's ended and I waited, and waited and waited, running a empire this fucking big was impossible. Hell, I remember seattle was seperated into like 12 sections, this? Forget the 50 states of america, I was running the 3256 countries of Gondora.
Do you know how fucking difficult it was to handle the money system? They were using fucking magic and the system we had in the old days. I had to use a fucking reddit comment I half remembered about the economy to suggest a new way!
Then their was the slaves, just god damn, that was a horrible battle.
I could complain about different woes and tribulations I have experienced since the 15 years I've been here. And the 12 I've been King.
Then, already after I think my Empire has grown so large it can't get bigger, my advisor comes up to me and tells me he has bad news. Bad news? Bad news?! No, this was knowledge I should have been told about 15 years ago. The world is so big because it grows. And the next expansion is coming. The top scientists wizards I had employed told me it would make my kingdom 74% larger.
This is such bullshit. Oh and don't fucking start on the whole "Who is this mysterious third party?" thing, I realized that ages ago. Fucking advisors. I hope he tries to kill me, because it he doesn't, that means he truly believes in my abilities to essentially run land so big that it would take my entire lifetime to travel it.
It would just be easier to deal with a betrayer than a devout follower. | 2017-05-21T10:21:10 | 2017-05-21T04:23:44 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | The clapping rang out around the rocky red walls as the Devil sat on his throne looking down at Clyde.
"Congratulations, Clyde, and welcome to hell."
Clyde took a moment to look around, doing his best to take in the strange surroundings. Peering up at the Devil, he nodded his head.
"Hello," said Clyde.
The Devil held his hand out and a large book burst in to existence, "You're very special, Clyde. Very special, indeed." He took the book and peeled open the cover. "You're the first person to enter my domain, Clyde. This intrigues me like nothing before."
Clyde stood idly, oddly unimpressed by what was transpiring in front of him.
"This book, aptly named 'The Crimes of Clyde' contains every sin you committed and, oh my, it's quite thick. Your first punishment will be sitting through the reading of all your misdemeanors. May we remind you of your infidelity."
Clyde continued to stand unaffected.
The Devil began to rattle off the list contained within The Crimes of Clyde.
"And I begin:
* Thinking it's funny to shout out fake spoilers for films/TV shows people are about to watch.
* Posting Minion memes on Facebook.
* Singing along to every song on the radio while at work.
* Not resetting the time on the microwave after using it.
* Taking your phone out and sitting it on the table while eating with friends.
* Biting the fork when eating food.
* Thinking it's funny to touch people who have asked not to be touched.
* Texting during a movie then being upset when called out on it.
* Listening to music from your phone speaker on public transport.
* Saying the words 'quick question'.
* Stopping in the middle of streets when people are walking behind you.
* Whistling.
* Calling people out on technicalities when debating because you're incapable of admitting you're wrong.
* Vaguebooking.
* Wearing socks with Crocs.
* Taking pictures of your food.
* Forcing people to watch YouTube videos on your phone when they clearly don't want to.
* Saying memes in real life.
* Using the word 'literally' when it doesn't apply.
* Becoming unjustly upset when your housemate asked you to clean up after yourself.
Clyde interrupted, "Is this going to take much longer?"
"You're clearly a cunt Clyde. This is going to take forever."
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
| The land is desolate and barren for as far as I can see, devoid of all life except for the solitary red figure before me, his claps resonating across the entire empty plane. He grins widely, brandishing row of sharpened white teeth.
"Now what manner of bastard must you've been to end up here?"
I shrug dejectedly, my eyes tracing the entirety of the man. He is no taller than I am, with sharp black hair and a pointed beard. His smile is charming, although gives me the fearful impression of a crocodile; the sort of smile you give your dinner before eating it. I don't like the idea of being prey.
"Oh, come now," he continues, his tone equal parts mellifluous and commanding. "Surely you must've done something."
"I can't say," I mutter, backing up defensively.
"Can't say? Don't tell me that, darling. We're going to be here an awful long time in silence if you don't part that mouth of yours."
"I choose to be here," I concede, feeling myself shiver as I chance a look at his eyes - two orbs of onyx, conveying nothing but malice as they pierce my gaze and soul, leaving me quivering in the recess. Entirely at his mercy.
"Chose?" He repeats, rolling the word around his tongue. He quirks a brow, chortling softly. "Now who in their right mind would choose, willingly, to be in Hell?"
"Me," I whisper, my voice no louder than a passing wind.
"You," he repeats, stepping forward. "Are you mocking me?"
"No, Lucifer, I am no-"
He freezes suddenly, all pretence of amicability dropping abruptly as his black eyes begin to flare, an entire inferno erupted around his body. Satan in all his hellish terror steps forth, his hand reaching for my neck. I quickly pull away, retreating back.
"How *dare* you use my name? How are you even privy to such knowledge, mortal?"
"G-God told me..."
"God? **God?!**" His wings unfurl from his back, unveiling more of his demonic form as a black tongue snaked out from between his lips.
"It was his request for me to come," I splutter, trying to at least attempt to defuse the situation. "You remember the story of Job?"
The Devil himself faltered, "Yes, that devout man who God challenged me to corrupt. He remained steadfast in his fate no matter what I took - it was sordid to witness one with such will succumb to being little more than a zealot."
"Yes, the man of legend himself. Well, now God has tried something else - a deal amongst his angels, as opposed to with you. To see if any amongst their ranks can come to you and convince you to return home, as you tried to convince Job into debauchery."
"You intend to convince me, The Devourer, the Tyrant, Lord of Flies and abominations, to return home? To the bastardisation that is your so-called 'Heaven'? I'd rather die."
"I'm just the messenger! Please take it up with the man himself if you have a problem. The angels shall be arriving soon."
The Devil chews his lip, his vision tearing from me and instead looking to the red, swirling mass above us. The Sky separating Hell from Heaven, the colour of freshly spilled blood. He licks his lips, "There'll be blood if they come for me, that I can assure you of."
"I don't doubt it."
----
/r/coffeeandwriting for more!
Edit: Part 2 is up here! [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/CoffeeAndWriting/comments/6itabv/writing_prompt_response_you_die_and_go_to_hell/) | 2017-06-22T03:45:33 | 2017-06-22T03:34:42 | 4,609 | 203 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | A bone-jarring impact jolts me awake, followed by a few seconds of searing pain. I try to sit up, but the searing pain keeps me on by back. After a moment, the pain begins to subside and I'm able to sit up and take stock of my situation. When I look down at myself I nearly pass out. What once was a mostly healthy, slightly overweight body is now a mangled purple husk...
"What.... happened?" I say to myself... After a few moments my memory returns... Fuck. Why'd I have to go base jumping from the Petronas Towers while on vacation in Malaysia? It's clear that the impact I heard was ME hitting the ground. Where am I anyway? This clearly isn't Kuala Lumpur.
I struggle to my feet, amazed that my wrecked form can handle that much. Looking around I see nothing but a small room that seems to be carved from bedrock. There is no furnishings of any sort. A faint light glows from the ceiling above, but I can't see any actual source. I spot a door on one wall.
Despite an inexplicable feeling of dread, I am compelled toward the door. I open it and step into a hallway. The walls are transparent, and through them lies everyone's worst nightmare. Fire and brimstone. Lava flowing down into pits. It dawns on me... I'm in HELL.
From the other end of the short hallway, a man steps through the door. He's dressed in ragged black robes that seem to be worn over the top of even more ragged red robes. His beard is black, with a stripe of white running down the middle. The most alarming feature are two rams horns spiraling around each side of his head.... He's... clapping?
"Who are you!?" I demand with alarm.
"Who am I?" he says, "There are some who call me... Tim. But you? You can call me Satan. Or just Stan if you wish. Welcome to hell!"
I snort in amusement. "Really? A Monty Python joke? Do you greet people like this all the time?"
"Uh... well... you could say that. You're the first one to arrive." he admits.
"What? With all the murderers and rapists on earth, *I* am the first one to go to hell? How the fuck does THAT work!? I've never killed anybody, harmed anyone, or stolen anything." I shout
Stan sighs as if defeated. "Do you honestly think God would condemn his children to eternal pain and torture? The only way I'm ALLOWED any souls is through making deals... and after the humiliation of losing a fiddle contest to some snot-nosed kid I haven't really cared to try. My last effort was an attempt at a cyber-contract. All they had to do was pay for a piece of software and I'd own their soul."
The sense of dread gets deeper... I know why I'm here. I know what doomed me to hell.
"Fuck... You mean I'm the only one that paid for WinRar?"
Stan grins at me and says "Like I said. Welcome to Hell."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Interested in feedback. This is probably the second time I've ever written in Writing Prompts... I don't know why I haven't done it more. I always have a blast making this stuff up.
Edit: Holy cow! I didn't really expect this to explode like this. Thanks for the Updoots and all the kind comments! :) I think I'll have to do more of these!
Edit 2: This post has more than doubled my total comment karma..... I'm kinda flabbergasted... Thank you all again!
Edit 3: Wow... Gold... Thank you kind stranger!! | I entered Hell whistling merrily.
I don't think I could call this a surprise. I'm a downright horrible bastard. "You think they'd hire you?" I wondered to myself. "It sure beats getting tortured for all eternity."
"That does sound nice," I agreed. "It might be nice to spend all of eternity with a job at least, a calling you could grow into. Perhaps a corner office - nothing too fancy. You don't want to get too big for your boots, do you? You don,t want to become one of those fat cat bosses who sat around and yelled and coudn't put in an honest days work in if they had to. We hate those people don't we?"
"Yes," I agreed with myself then shivered remembering some of the... unpleasantness, I'd visited on a few Big Boot Corner Offices.
The place was huge, cavernous, open and wide, with great lakes and pools amd jets of lava casting an eerie red glow on the landscape. An eerie silence filled the sulphurous air. The landscape was barren of life. My spirit lifted. No sounds of torture. Perhaps Hell wouldn't be so bad. Though, that probably meant employment opportunities would be limited as well.
I chuckled. You win some, you lose some.
I crested a ride and stopped short. In the middle of the place, at the centre of hell a broken-down real-estate office calmly burnt.
"Well, *that* figures," I groaned.
********
I walked into Hell's office and found the Devil asleep.
I sighed then poked.
"Wakey, wakey," I prodded, "I'm here for the job interview. A right bastard, I am."
"What job interview?" yawned the Devil. His eyes were yellow and strained with tiredness and reddenes with boredom. There was a gleam to them - an inhuman glint. Bugger, I thought.
"Apprentice, perhaps?"
"Apprentice to what?
"To you?" I tried. Might as well go big.
The Devil, yawned, rising from his burning desk.
"So, long," he muttered to himself. His eyes flickered bloodshot and red for a moment. Not the best start to a job interview then. Then again I've had worse. "And what are your talents?" he continued smoothly.
"I'm a hard worker, sir. Not too proud to do an honnest day's work. I've always been one of the boys. I'm companionable like. A team player. I'd be a dab hand at the punishment side of things. I have a few ideas you might like."
"Punishment?" The Devil smirked. "That's my favorite subject. I think about it all the time."
"Yeah, I'm good with the ironing, iron eye, that things in the Alanis Morissette song where she sings it wrong."
"Oh, that," smirked the Devil. "That'll be useful I'm sure."
"You're in."
My heart sank. I felt dread, not relief.
"In for what?" I asked cautiously.
"An eternity if toeture and suffering. You're my first. MY FIRST. You're the first to have ever arrived here."
Well bloody hell.
********
"So, no staffing shortfall then?"
"None," smiled the Devil. The glint was getting larger. "Nobody's come for millennia. I've been waiting. Patiently."
"Ah, wouldn't want to spoil a record like that then."
"It would be a shame, really."
The Devil smiled - wickedly. He extended out a claw and tapped my heart.
"I'd best be off then," I squeeked.
"On, no stay a while. God's been so unkind to me. It's all his fault really. He made me and now I have no way to fulfill my evil..." He savored the word. " purpose. I have so many things we could... try."
"I'd like that. I really would but perhaps another time?"
I scampered backwards.
"On, no I insist," said the Devil. He was behind me, grinning, grinning, grinning. "Whips, and chains, and pains. Delicious fire."
"Uh, perhaps It's not the done things and all? Seeing as how I'm the first and all. Perhaps we could yry something else?"
"We all need to start somewhere," he said softly.
"But-"
"OH, SHUT UP." The Devil yelled. Fire spat out from him and I leapt back, imto his desk, smashing my back. *Ouch*, I whimpered.
Then he came for me. He picked me up.
"I HAVE A LIST AND EVERYTHING. FUN AND GAMES WILL BE HAD."
"Fun and games. Yes," I said softly. As on Earth, so in the heavens it seemed. I found myself empty of jokes.
"Yes, fun and games will be had..." the devil paused. "What is your name, First One?"
"I'm Lucifer, Jeremy." I answered staring into the distance. A damn list! "You can just call me Lou," I finished as kindly as I could.
| 2017-06-22T06:21:45 | 2017-06-22T06:00:59 | 4,092 | 17 |
[WP] A depressed guy moves into a haunted house with 7 demons, each corresponding to a deadly sin. But, they're all trying to help him get back on his feet; Pride helps with self confidence, Lust helps him get laid, etc. | "Alright, get in the car."
"Where are we going?"
"One last thing, kid."
"Oh, it's alright. You guys have done so much for me already. I don't want to impose..."
"Look, I get it. You're happy. You're looking good, taking what you want, *who* you want, and you're doing it at your own pace. Life's good, and you're ready to get back out there.
But I see it in your eyes. That little thread of fear. You and I both know there's someone out there who can tug on it and unravel all the work my brother's and sisters put in getting you back on your feet. That bitch is out there with your brother, and both of them would be perfectly happy rubbing it in your face. *Again*.
See? Just mentioning them has you shaking. So who about this? Instead of picturing them with their hands all over each other, grinning from ear to ear while they look over their shoulders laughing at you; picture them in the woods. On their knees. *Begging* you for mercy. Picture the look that flashes across their faces when they realize you don't have any left for them. When they see the shovel. Now open your eyes, stop smiling like an idiot, *and get in the fucking car*." | "Here try this suit, big guy. It would look great on you," said Pride one of my 8 demons. Yes, I live in a house with 8 demons... who are trying to help my depressed ass conquer the world. Ha! Ha! Ha!
It really is a riot, I'm sure. I've somehow drifted into an anime weird as hell but uplifting at the same time. It's good to hear a friends laugh again. It's been a while. Depression takes much from you but it does leave you with perspective an appreciation for how wonderful the world is, a gratefulness for those who fill your life with their light.
"I'm sure it would. Thanks for all the help, Pride. You have such an eye for these things," I say as merrily as I can. I try to keep the weariness out of my voice. I yawn.
"Sleepy?" winks Lust. "Carol tired you out."
"Nothing happened," I grinned back.
"No thing happenings. Things are sad, then."
That made me grin.
"Change, now. Stop distracting him, Lust! groaned Pride. Lust threw a summoned banana at him boinking his nose. Pride howled. Those two always fought. Despite this they were my favorites. They had a lust for living, such a pride in living I wish I could scoop up in both arms.
"Okay, okay," I said, grabbed the suit and scooted up the stairs. The Sins worked so hard to make me feel less sad. "Thank you," I whispered soft as a flower drawing together it' petals for the night.
I reach my room, on the first floor. Well it wasn't really my room. I've been house-sitting the padt three months. I thought a change of scenery would help with the tiredness. It hadn't but I had met the Sins. Friends were always worthwhile. If you can, appreciate them more.
I open the door, shut it and then collapsed on the bed exhausted.
"Tonight?" asked Acceptance.
"Tonight," I answer back.
It's just too bad that sadness isn't my problem. Life's beautiful but it wearies me. I can see it's happiness, it's worth, it's joy. I just can't touch it. I trudge through the days.
"I will explain it to them."
Silence fills the room. I wait a second in its stillness, thinking. I have one last favor to ask.
"I don't want them to be sad for me, or to love or live life any less. Life's beautiful. If it's beauty can touch you, embrace it."
She nods and I close my eyes in relief, then put on a great, big smile, and the suit and go out again. | 2017-06-27T04:48:07 | 2017-06-27T04:00:46 | 44 | 14 |
[WP] You’ve just realized that you are not a human, but rather a parasite controlling someone. | They tell a story of a boy who fell from the stars and was raised by his human foster parents. The boy then grew into a man, who saved millions with his powers granted to him by the sun over and over again. Humanity’s ultimate defender was an alien.
That’s the only part which is true.
At death’s door, and as the last of my species, it’s finally time to tell my story. The name of my species, or my own, has no relevance to my story. No one is really here to hear anyway, but it’s time to be honest with myself.
I’m a parasite.
A parasite which controls the most powerful being on Earth. A parasite who gave him all those powers so long ago.
It was the least I could do to the boy whose body I took as my own to hide from Galactus, the destroyer of worlds. As Galactus ate my world I fled in a hastily constructed body and when I crashed on earth I was too weak to create a new one.
Luckily, two curious humans investigated and when they found me I bent them to my will using the last of my strength. Their newborn child was my safe refugee as I recovered from my fight.
I’m sorry Clarke, but you really are your parents’ child. You are not an alien from Krypton, you are human. I’m the alien here.
I’m so sorry | "They're always told that they have five senses. I never fully understood why society undermines the mind, which surely is the sixth sense.
Their entire being is projected through the mind. All other five senses merge into what the mind interprets them as.
If they are to acknowledge the mind, then they would hold it to a higher value than everything else. The mind is the life. Thoughts are the very fabric of being.
You look at your hands and body, and you get that eerie strange feeling, of how these limbs are sticking out of you right now, and are being controlled by hundreds of nerves attached so delicately to the bones, amongst all the flesh in between.
You decide the rest of your day, and by making that decision, the movement of your entire body is dictated by these thoughts.
Do you really think you are just *creating* these thoughts from scratch?
**Do you really think you are capable of independent thought?**
You are wrong.
I have finally learnt the truth. And I sure am enjoying this. Sorry Mark, your body belongs to me now. Don't fight it."
Mark's eyes widened as he was trying to fathom what he just read.
He was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder when he was eight, and his mood wings can be extreme to the level of two apparent separate personalities.
Medications had minimal effect.
It was twenty-two years later that Mark found that note, with a massive ink stain towards the bottom right-corner, just under the sunlight ray peeking through his room's window.
Mark was absolutely flabbergasted. He sat down and started to trace his thoughts and actions within the past twenty-four hours.
*Alright, I must remember when I wrote this note. I might not be crazy after all. I came home from Hannah's dinner party just before midnight, I was starving, her vegan dinner was shit. I grabbed the spaghetti I made on Tuesday then sat and started browsing reddit for a while. I then started writing? I think I'm right. This is the right sequence of events so far. Next I must ha-*
*Hey Mark. I said don't fight it. Why don't you go for a drive right now, and go and try winning some money at the pub like you always do with some alcohol?*
Mark got up abruptly from his chair, knocking his ink from the table, grabbed a jacket, and left the hut.
____________________________________________________________________________________
"Does he really think he lives in the 1830's?"
"I don't know. Apparently his latest gig is that a parasite is controlling him".
"I feel bad, he just completely lost it didn't he?"
"Yeah. I think our lunch break is over, we should head back to the main ward now, I heard there are new patients coming in".
"Let's go".
| 2017-12-21T00:51:48 | 2017-12-20T23:47:17 | 88 | 48 |
[WP] You are a SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door.
Edit: Wow thanks for all the upvotes!! My inspiration for this was a picture of the earth exploding and an astronaut looking at it from the moon. I love all of the submissions! Everybody has a different take on it! | *Knock Knock*
I tilt my head sideways. *Did I just hear a knock?*
Silence floods the room as I drop what I am doing and listen intently for any sign of life around me. Nothing..
"I'm finally going crazy." I sarcastically say aloud, ironically to myself.
*Knock Knock*
I jolt up. I rush to the door and swing it open in the blink of an eye.
"J-Jack? Jack Rios?" My mind is racing, *how the fuck is this man here?*
"How are you here? When did you become an astronaut?" I manage to spit out.
"I'm not one, and I need you to try and calm down and not think so much. I am here to ease you back into reality, Mike." Jack says calmly, walking inside.
"Ease me.. back? What?" I grab my head and begin to remember looking Jack in his face before laying down, but I can't place the memory. "Okay, I actually AM going crazy."
Jack chuckles, "You've actually been remarkable thus far, and have managed to sustain life on Mars, all alone, while keeping your sanity for over 25 years."
"Stop, just stop!" I shout, "Why are you here!!?? Tell me right now."
"Well, you volunteered to test the United States' brand new, top secret invasive simulspace program. The planet was never devastated by a nuclear holocaust and you've actually only been unconscious for 3 hours. I can take you back to reality whenever you are ready." Jack said, almost in slow motion.
*This isn't real. How is this possible? Why? How?* As the room began to spin, I had to snap myself out of it. I rush over and pour my glass of water over my head. But when I looked over at Jack, he was still there. Just sitting calmly with his hands resting on his crossed legs.
*Fuck it, I'll put an end to this now.* "Take me back then, I'm ready." I say confidently to Jack, expecting him to malfunction or disappear. What I didn't expect, was what followed...
----
Edited terminology* | It didn't occur to me what it was at first. Maybe the generators vibrating or rocks falling onto the roof. The second time I realized; there was someone at the door.
Dropping my lukewarm coffee on the floor, my head snapped towards the large steel door 10 meters to my left. Silence.
Three knocks this time, louder, more impatient. Whoever it was knew I was in here, and they wanted to join me. My mind started conjuring and dismissing ideas of who, or what, could be trying to gain entry. Aliens? No. Mars couldn't feasibly support complex life. Besides, I would be the alien in this scenario. It must be a human, or something created by a human. But who? Did some survive the war? Perhaps it's one of the new androids? There was no one else on mars, to my knowledge.
Calming myself I stood up from my desk, and walked slowly and deliberately to the circular window in the steel door. It was possible to see outside through the pressurization lock, so I took care not to be visible from the window. Reaching the door, there were four more knocks, louder, almost desperate this time.
The small monitor to the right of the door showed a single space suit standing outside the outer door. The sun was low on the horizon and behind the suit, limiting visibility. It was quickly but errantly shifting its upper body, seemingly to change its gaze between the window and the camera looking down on it from the left. It stared into the camera and waved.
I ran through the possibilities. Worst case scenario whatever was out there intended to do me harm. More likely, a human looking for refuge. Maybe it's a woman... After weighing the guilt I would feel should I deny life saving refuge against my odds of being able to defend myself against a single assailant, I decided I would let them in. It was half loneliness, half horniness, but I made sure I factored in the unused but hopefully functional ion propulsion rifle to my right.
I spoke clearly through the intercom; "stand by, I'll disengage the outer lock". There was instant joyful movement in the suit, its arms flailing pointlessly while bobbing up and down in apparent celebration.
After the few seconds it took for the door to disengage and open, the suit stepped inside, the door slowly closing behind it. "Pressurizing lock". The now rare to my ears hiss of the cabin pressurizing bore down on me, prompting the realization that I could soon be speaking to the first human I've seen in 25 years. My mind was racing. The loneliness had nearly killed me in my first years here, and I had had to come to terms with the fact that I would die without ever seeing another face or speaking to another person. That I would never again sleep next to someone... The only thing keeping me going was the increasingly small chance of making contact with another person. It was a situation I had played in my mind countless times. I expected perhaps finding a radio broadcast or something on the sub-net. To have a person standing barely 4 meters away, it was overwhelming. I felt tears trickling down both sides of my face, an overwhelming sense of relief creeping through now shaking my body.
The hiss slowed, then stopped, then came the first words I'd heard spoken to me in 25 years.
"Matt Damon".
What?
"Matt Damon".
No.
The inside door had opened, and in stepped the suit. Bringing his arms up to his helmet he awkwardly twisted it to one side, then slowly pulled it upwards, revealing his face.
"MATT. DAMON". | 2018-03-05T06:19:23 | 2018-03-05T05:46:03 | 211 | 13 |
[WP] You commit a crime. Time passes and it seems like you have gotten away with it. One day you are called to jury duty and when you the trail starts, you realise that the trail is for the crime that you committed. | She was the only one saying no. That bitch.
Hannah Smith. What a stupid name. We all had voted, we all had agreed that he was guilty, except her. Hannah freaking Smith. People were rolling their eyes at her and I know I was not the only one calling her a bitch inside of my head. John Something kept telling her he needed to go back to work, the blonde fat woman had her son birthday party the next day and needed to bake a cake, the cute Adam guy with a foreign surname who was probably gay was going to miss his cruise if that trial didn’t end ASAP (he said that while snapping his finger, gay AF). But Hannah Smith and her perfect curly hair with her perfect teeth was quiet and calm.
“I’m just not sure he did it. I’m not convinced. I don’t want the guilt of sending an innocent man to jail. No birthday party, no cruise, no work is worth that”.
More people rolled their eyes. Even the short skinny guy whose name starts with L - was it Larry? Laurie? - and was flirting with Hannah the whole day was getting annoyed. We had discussed the case for hours. At first, maybe three or four people had some doubts, but it wasn’t hard to change their minds. Except for curly dummy Hannah.
She had that insufferable face of a know it all, the type of girl who uses the word “ethics” (twice that day) and talks about the honor of jury duty (people have cakes to bake, ships to board, Damian had his first date after the divorce, Hannah). She kept saying she didn’t care if we would hate her, but she would hate herself if she didn’t vote with her heart. “It is not only about peace of mind, it is about doing what is right”.
Fuck you, Hannah.
Look, I know you are right, I know that man is innocent, but we all have a lot to lose. Fuck you, damn you, damn your freckles, damn your ethics and your need to feel superior. Damn your aluminum straw and your vintage backpack.
I spent the last two years having constant panic attacks. Every time the bell rang I thought it was the police. Every time the freaking murder popped up on the news I thought I was going to see a stupid drawing of me. A witness, a footage, a piece of evidence... but nothing. The police never came, no ugly drawing, no nothing. Just the Jury Duty letter.
The universe was trying to help me out - and I’m sure I deserved it, I’m a great person overall - and the only thing between me and a great night of sleep was Hannah Smith with her stupid name and her stupid face.
“Hannah, tell us again why you are still not sure”. I was as calm as possible, but made sure to say the “again” in a higher pitch. I wanted to scream at her, pull her hair, bite her ear off - I had the same tickling inside of me that I felt in the day I kicked that horrible horrible woman soul out of her ass - but I knew that was not the place or time to start a fight. Instead, I smiled.
“I understand your concern and we all here are trying to do the right thing. And, for us, the right thing is to put Brad in jail forever. He is a murderer, Hannah. You saw the pictures. You saw what that poor woman looked like. Isabela deserves justice. We are the ones who can giver it to her. We just need you to vote yes”.
I said it as an anthem, I brought tears to some people’s eyes. Truth is, Isabela was a cow. I have no idea who Brad was, but if the universe wanted him in jail, his karma was running high. I, on the other hand, was being compensated finally. I mean, it was the tickling and the cursing and the fact she had called me “fat ass suburban basic bitch” that made me kill that skinny tanned piece of shit. She had stolen my parking stop, I simply opened the window and pointed it out. I remember being polite. I said “please” and “sorry” and that “I was sure she didn’t saw me”, but she kept laughing and laughing and saying it was not her problem. I left the car to talk, I’m not the person who gets into fights with stranger people, but the she kept laughing and walking away and the tickling and the pipe on the curb and the blood.
I can’t say I don’t remember. It was fucking awesome. I felt a rush of energy and I felt alive. I think I even laughed out loud. I felt strong. I had killed a woman with just one blow to her head. How awesome is that?
I had the serenity to bring the pipe with me. I washed the blood and the hair - and I think maybe some chunks of brain? Not sure - before throwing it in the trash. I cleaned my car. I bleached my white clothes. I cooked dinner. It was a great day followed by the worst two years of my life. I didn’t feel guilty, I just didn’t want to get caught.
“He had no motive. They dated what, two weeks? He was the one who broke up with her. Also, how did he know she was at Walmart? There is no footage of him following her and even her sister told us she decided to go last minute. The only thing they have is a random eye witness who saw someone who looks like him and the fact he has no alibi because he might have been taking care of his baby by himself that day. I really don’t understand how that can make you think he is guilty”
“I know in my heart he is”, I said, with a deep voice. Damian nodded.
“Look, maybe he is guilty. But aren’t them supposed to prove it to us without a doubt?”
I looked around and people were thinking. They were thinking. Fuck. She had made people think it over. Hannah Smith was fucking me over and my fat suburban ass wasn’t going to let it happen.
Edit: english is not my first language :/
| When I opened the envelope, to my surprise, it was a Jury Summons. I took a second and closed my eyes. I knew this day was unavoidable – I just didn’t think I would have to deal with it this soon. I regret having the burden to serve my community. However, I live in a community where I do not get the pleasure of having a choice. I finally opened the Summons reading,
*‘Cameron Barkley, you have been selected for jury service.*
*Your name was randomly selected from the electoral register. During your jury service you may be required to go to another court.*
*What the Jury Summons Means*
*Jury service is an important public duty.’*
“Give me a break,” I said aloud. The letter slowly crumbling in my palm. I skipped ahead as the next opening paragraph caught my attention. It seemed different somehow.
*‘What to do now,*
*It is important to read the enclosed leaflet ‘Guide to Jury Summons.’ This guide has not been enclosed with your specific letter. Your next instruction is the following:*
*You are going to walk out from your back door. You will take the brick left on the side of your patio and you will throw it through your dining room window. Immediately afterward, you will meet me down on the dock. You only have five minutes.*
*Good luck.’*
I felt my heart sink in the pit of my stomach. I knew this was the work of a certain individual. The sound of a car door slamming jolted my attention from the letter. Police were starting to swarm around the trail leading into my front yard. I quickly threw open my back door and grabbed hold of the brick perfectly placed where it had been said. I took a deep breath and tossed it through my dining room window.
The glass shattered while I watched the cops out in the front quickly duck into cover. Everything seemed to have been planned out so carefully. I didn’t take any chances. I turned without hesitation, stuffing the letter into my pocket. The dock was about half a mile away, so I needed to start running without being detected.
As soon as I broke into the trees, I watched the cops wrap around my entire home. None of them seemed to have seen me. Suddenly, a branch snapped under my boot signaling for a cop to turn my direction.
“Over there!” He called out revealing my identity in the woods.
“Shit!” I spat in terror. Bullets snapped against the bark on the trees behind. The river started to approach in view as I found a gentleman standing on the dock with his arms crossed.
“What took you so long?!” The man I instantly recognized cupped his hands.
“How did you know?” I jumped onto the wooden dock following his guidance into the boat. “How did you know they were coming?”
“They’ve come for all of us. Cameron.” He told me while throwing the ropes back in the boat. He stirred the water with the engine as we pulled away from the dock. We both ducked when cops fired behind us. One of the bullets split the glass over my shoulder.
“Cameron! Get down!”
Our boat sped down the river bank, ignoring the brush that was left over from the floods. Sitting up, I ran the glass out from my hair. I just realized that everything had happened so fast, I never even fully introduced the man who had just saved my life. He was very intelligent. The fact that he had everything lined up so perfectly was proof of his precision in execution. He is my older brother, Ron Barkley. I never knew him growing up, but after the incident, he was the only person who had my back. I could never thank him enough for the things he has done for me, nor the things he is willing to do. I didn’t waste a minute. I wanted answers.
“Who is coming for us? What is happening? How did you know about the cops?”
Ron pulled his long blonde hair out from the front of his face. He started to turn our boat out into the open bay leading towards the cove. “Someone picked up on our trail.”
“How?” I sat up from underneath the back seat. I started to wipe more of the glass from my shirt.
“I don’t know. They all came at us at once and father told me no matter what happens, I was to grab you before they got there. I knew they had surveillance, but not through postal.”
“The letter." I realized why he hid the message in a fake court summons. They wouldn't think to check a court summons. "Wait, did you say Father? You spoke to him? Where is he? Is he still alive?” I had too many questions that I started growing more impatient not getting the answers quick enough.
“Look,” Ron let go of the wheel. “I am following specific instructions just like you. I need you to trust me. They know what we all did, and they will not stop until they capture each and every one of us. I promised father I’d look after you so turn around and hand me the case to your left.”
“Why? What’s in the case? Where is father?”
“Enough fucking questions! Cameron, little brother,” Ron rested both his hands on my shoulders. “Enough with the questions. I know as much as you do. Please, just hand me the case.”
Ron took out a map as I pulled a black briefcase out from under the seat. I opened it to find a strange looking handgun inside. The barrel was larger than normal.
“What am I looking at here?” I asked but not with the intent of adding another question.
Ron turned to take the gun in his hand. He lifted the barrel upward while removing the bottom pad from the case. He grabbed a stick like item and loaded it into the gun. I watched him study the map again before pointing the gun in a specific direction. A red flare blasted out into a spiral above the clouds overhead. The flare brightened the evening sky making everything around us glow in a red color.
“Won’t that just tell the cops where we are?” I threw down the case. A nervous feeling grabbed hold of my spine as I watched Ron wink before smiling.
A strange sound started to follow from above. A light brightened overhead as a helicopter swooped down beside our boat.
“Who’s that?” Another question slipped from my mouth. I noticed Ron had quickly packed up a bag.
I was trying to understand, but it was all happening too fast. The helicopter drew closer beside us. I turned to lock eyes with the pilot, my mother, whom I had not seen in years. Her face was still and stern as she continued to level the helicopter overhead.
“Mother!” I called out. Ron pulled me back to avoid getting too close while she fixed her position more.
“Now!” Ron pushed me up into the helicopter. He tossed his bag of items behind me. My mother mouthed him a ‘thank you.’ Before she pulled up on the joystick.
“Wait! Ron! You didn’t get Ron!” My mother pulled the helicopter up into a low hanging cloud. I watched red and blue lights circle around our boat below. Police boats sped out from every direction. My mother steered out toward the cove, heading over the ocean.
“Why did you leave him? What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“He still has a job to do!” My mother ripped the headset from her head and slammed it against the cockpit. She glared over at me before continuing, “You still need to do yours. If you don’t, we all die.”
***
Want to read more? Visit [13th Olympian Stories!](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | 2018-09-11T19:33:03 | 2018-09-11T18:12:30 | 126 | 68 |
[WP] Instead of becoming emotional or violent, you become extremely diplomatic when drunk. You've just woken up with a hangover and two feuding families thanking you for everything you did the previous night. | It takes me a couple seconds to understand the pounding I'm hearing isn't only the hangover, and that whoever is going at my door intends to keep at it until I either wake up, or they break it.The waves of nausea are immediate, vicious, as I stumble to my feet, sight still blurry. I haven't gotten myself in such a state for years, what ever happened yesterday ? I just remember this horrible, stuffed atmosphere at the annual ball and the glasses I downed with my friend. Again the door rattles on its hinges and I croaks
" Coming !" I hack out some tequila tasting phlegm, fighting another urge to hork. " I said, I'm coming!"
I've never seen the guy at my door. Middle aged, looking starched within an inch of his life, he lifts his left eyebrow a quarter of an inch upon surveying my disheveled, wrinkled carcass.
" Sir Mercutio ?"
" That would be me, and you are ?"
The guy doesn't even answer, stepping past me and into my flat. He carefully lays a wrapped package, a suit, I could swear, on the back of one of my chairs.
&#x200B;
"Lord Escalus has been... more than impressed by your feat of last night. For years this feud has been raging and you, you managed withing a couple hours to staunch those fires and bring peace in the city, a most amazing exploit."
" If you say so"
I still can't remember a lot, maybe bits of a passionate argument I was shouting at a crowd but nothing more. Again my stomach rumbles and abandoning all hopes at hospitality I dash to my bathroom, barely making it in time.
As I puke my guts out, I can hear the man, souding still as professionnal and detached as ever
" I shall advise you, sir, to take a shower once you are done. After all, the wedding can't start without its bestman and your friend Romeo will want to thank you in person"
Edits: typos. Please apologize any grammatical mistakes as english isn't my first language. | I didn't remember anything last night, but apparently it had to do over who gets the last slice of pizza. Something happened, and two groups of my adopted family (who I am not sure were even invited) started arguing over who gets the last slice of pizza, and it almost turned to blood. It's the last I remembered before I downed the rest of my vodka and blacked out. Next thing I know, my best friend is congratulating me on my problem solving skills, and both groups left without turning my house into a mess. He told me that when I was drunk out of my mind, I was using vocabulary that he didn't know I had in me, and I was using logic that he's never seen in me before! He kept going on and on about it until I asked him for a glass of water. I knew before he even finished talking about it that my new "super power" will be the best party trick of the century.
&#x200B;
As the years went on, I willing became drunk at bars and house parties, just for the heck of it. As I was drunk with other people, I helped them solve many of their problems with each other. I've stopped many couples from breaking up on the spot, and even an engaged couple thanked me personally on their wedding day! They said it was probably me who kept them together, and without me, they wouldn't know where they would be now. After a lot of drunkenness, I was starting to get tired of it, and tried to stop and stay quiet about it. But it wasn't easy keeping quiet. I didn't exactly try and make it a secret, but I didn't deliberately go out and show off. Okay, maybe I did. But it was only a matter of time before the word was spread, and someone took notice in how useful my talent was.
&#x200B;
It's late on a Friday night, and I was just relaxing, playing some BOTW, when I heard a knock on my apartment door. It was a really firm knock, and definitely not my roommate. He was supposed to be out of town. Cautiously, I peak through the peephole. A tall, muscular but skinny man in a neat suit, with sunglasses on, was standing at my door. It was 10 PM, and he was wearing sunglasses?!? After scanning him over and not seeing any noticeable bulge of a firearm, I opened the door slowly. Before I could say anything, the man said "Hayate Koizumi?" Weird. No one in the US addresses me by my original name, except for my parents. I always went by my "American" name, Ethan. I answered "Uh, yeah, that's me. You need anything?" He stopped for a moment, before saying, "You need to come with me, now. You don't need to bring anything, and you need to be quick. People are after you." I froze for a moment, not knowing what to believe, before he pulled me out of the doorway. "Stop standing there like a dumbass and come with me! Did you not hear my last sentence?" Grabbing my coat off the hook, I was still frozen from the words he said, but I went and followed him. Who knows, maybe he's telling the truth?
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Criticism more than welcome, I need to know what to improve on. I'm relatively new to creative fiction writing, and constructive criticism will be really helpful | 2018-09-14T20:09:28 | 2018-09-14T17:21:49 | 667 | 256 |
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified. | An excerpt from *on the efficiency of magic* by Beverly Brine
Much as a candle burnt for light still produces heat, so too does the use of magic radiate excess energy. This has always been a concern of mine.
Despite our liberal use of magic, we still know very little about it. We do not know where this energy comes from; we do not know if it is a finite resource; and we do not know what effect this magic radiation, which I will refer to in this essay as runoff, has on us and our environment. Anecdotal evidence suggests that areas with high runoff, such as magic schools, experience higher windspeeds, increased plant growth, and the disappearance of small items.
We send our children to these places from the age of five, yet our government has repeatedly denied funding for research into these phenomena. One wonders what tragedy we must endure before such issues cannot be ignored.
This essay will detail what we know and what we must know.
Project 1: Max Efficiency
It is well known that the more experienced a person is with magic, the less runoff is produced. Conventional wisdom has stated, however, that it is impossible to achieve 100% efficiency.
I am no longer convinced of this.
Recently while shopping for supplies in town, I happened upon what I mistook at first for a simple beggar. In front of her was a small table, upon which sat a deck of cards, a few coins, three small cups and a ball, and a hat.
What I experienced both terrified and thrilled me.
She claimed to be from a distant land called "The Bronx". Over the next 10 minutes, she displayed feats of mind reading; teleportation and duplication of simple objects; and the conjuration of a rabbit.
There was not a *single* drop of runoff. When I demanded to know how she had accomplished this, she simply told me "a magician never reveals her secrets".
I plan to travel to this "Bronx", and attempt to learn how this is possible, but I will require a research grant to do so. | "Sir, you seem to have my missing card in your pocket there" I announced with a squint. The onlookers now peered at a man in the middle of the crowd they had not noticed before."I assure you I-" The old man stopped as his hand came to the pocket beside his lapel. His gloved hand pulled the black jester from it and he smiled. His tea stained teeth were one of the many demarcations of his wealth. "Oh my, well played indeed..."
The man blew on the card and it floated evenly into the deck in my hands. Only light sigh of power glided along my senses. "Though mere tricks, ofcourse" he smirked. Onlookers were unsure if they were allowed to cheer under such contexts, the crowd began to sink into the unease of a mage's duel. I broke the tension with a laugh.
"Ofcourse my friend!" I said with a shuffle and a wink. Charm, like any magical talent, is only as complicated as you make it. Why burden the forces of nature when a wit can cut just as deep. "Forgive my folly, I am merely a traveler on his way to Rohjark, would you do me the honor of your introduction?"
The crowd breathed in relief as he answered in formality "Captain of Law, Lord Desmond Hadry". He did not offer the slightest bow, only the curt turn of lip the highborn wear when addressing the lesser. I continued to shuffle as I moved, "Ladies and gentlemen we are honored here before us by the presence of the law, *do* *well to hide your hand as they sneak the pocket, lest he thwart your grasp and lock it*" I sang the last bit playfully.
Nervous laughter broke out, but soon turned to better impressions as the deck moved back and forth in my hands, like the blades of a fan and I with it, side to side. The onlookers now calm swayed with me. Not so much magic, just a bit of encouragement.
"Now, good captain, would you dare to meet me in a friendly wager?" I asked him. He noticed himself shifting ever so slightly but immediately straightened when addressed.
"Of what sort dear fool?" his interest piqued.
"Say I were to perform the trick again, could you stop me?" I challenge.
"Easily." He assured. The crowd chuckled.
"For 10 Platdents I say otherwise" I meet his posture.
"And if you fail?" he smirked again, this time with a potent arrogance due only to the highest of talents.
"I'll spend as many nights in your jailhouse." I propose to a horrified crowd.
"A wager met then..." His power twinged again as his defenses raised.
*Now Aldra* I thought out to my companion *Another transfer if you'd be so kind.*
***At the price of an other nights blood?***
*Yes old friend, a taste of my blood.*
"Sir, you seem to have my missing card in your pocket there..." I squinted again, shuffling my cards. The crowd rushed in to look.
The Captain's smile turned ten platdents heavier as his gloved hand reached to his pocket.
"How!?" He mourned sourly.
"Magic dear Captain" I smiled with innocence.
"Be out of my city by nightfall..." He warned as he handed me my prize.
"Ten scores with every step" I announced to applause, holding his riches above my head. | 2019-01-07T11:23:44 | 2019-01-07T11:06:26 | 21 | 13 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | I logged onto the website, after 3 failed attempts at my password.
It took me the better part of an hour scrolling through the pages and pages of statistics, most pretty decent, some exceptional (top 100,000 at minesweeper felt pretty good).
Finally I noticed the little menu bar at the top and found the "Outliers" search. So I clicked and waited. A few seconds later, my most unusual statistics popped up and there it was, just above my minesweeper score:
>No. 7,536,783,248 at Golf out of a global database population of 7,536,783 248.
I blinked. I'd never played golf, how.. how did it even know? How could anyone be the "worst at golf"? It didn't make sense.
I stepped out of my room where my sister stood, a shit-eating grin on her face as she handed me a long metal golf club.
"Well? Go on, I want to see what the WoRlD's AwFuLlEsT gOlFeR looks like."
I took the club from her, then went to swing it threateningly, only to mash myself in the back of the head in a profoundly uncoordinated maneuver that left me unconscious for the next 15 minutes.
---
Over the following few days of mild teasing from friends and family (and several failed attempts at holding a golf club) it became apparent that I had a preternatural ability to cause extreme misfortune to myself in any activity that even bore a passing resemblance to golf.
The first few times I held a club resulted in bodily harm or property damage, my first contact with a golf ball lead to a trip to the ICU and surgical removal. I visited a golf course later in the week and had an inexplicable bout of syncope then had my arm run over by an unmanned, runaway, golf cart.
In the end, I decided it best for my own continued survival to avoid golf whenever physically possible.
My sister, of course, gave me no end of teasing about it and would occaisionally leave various golf related paraphernalia in my path just to film (and, invariably upload to youtube) the ensuing swathe of destruction.
That was... until her 18th birthday when her own results revealed her to be the world's worst Yoga Instructor.
Now I have a collection of yoga mats and a spotify playlist called "Dynamic Tracks to Relax and Stretch" and it's time for some petty revenge. | I arrived in town around 8 as usual. Ideally my father would come to town to pick up supplies so I wouldn’t have to, but he insists I learn how to interact with folks who aren’t farmers. So far, all I’ve learned is that I hate them. All their focus on money and possessions seems absurd to me. I’m a simple man. Animals and plants are more than enough company, and nothing can beat the satisfaction of a good day's work on the farm.
That’s why I like to come to town as early as possible and leave as quickly as possible. The lazy townsfolk seem to get out of their houses only after 10, wasting a good several hours of daylight. So imagine my surprise when I found a huge crowd right outside the hardware store. They were milling around, sipping hot drinks and chatting amongst themselves. I had a brief moment of panic as I wondered if the store was closing for some reason. Perhaps people were buying as much of the inventory as they could before the store shut down. But, I realized, it wouldn’t make sense why the crowd was waiting outside the store, and not shopping inside.
As I got out of my truck and walked towards the front of the store, a few people noticed me and immediately started pointing towards me and shouting. I felt a pit in my stomach - of course all the townspeople wanted to do was to make fun of the farmer. I remember one day back in school a few years ago, a group of kids from the town rode up and threw eggs at us as they mocked us for working the farm. I felt a flash of rage as I braced myself for the taunting soon to come.
To my surprise, however, as I neared the group, the people greeted me with warm smiles. A lady, flanked by a crew carrying two enormous cameras, burst through the crowd and began speaking a mile a minute: “Hello John. My name is Ann and I’m with TWN-1. It’s great to see you today morning. How are you feeling today in light of the discovery? Had you known you were the son of Mr. Bates? Do you plan to remain on your farm or join your father in New York?”
“I...uh...I think you have the wrong person. Sorry.” I tried wading through the crowd but the lady blocked my way.
“Please Mr. Bates. I know you’re a very busy man, but we would all really appreciate the chance to learn more about you. As I’m sure you know, hardly anything interesting happens in this area, and when something finally does it seems awfully rude to refuse to talk to us for just a few minutes.” Around me, I could see people nodding their heads in agreement and frowning.
“Umm. Ok. But I really think you have the wrong person. Joe Last is my father, not some guy named Mr. Bates.”
The lady laughed at that. Then she looked into the camera and said “Well, folks, it appears Mr. Bates hasn’t heard the exciting news yet!” She turned towards me. “Mr. Bates, as you know, every year the government publishes a list of the wealthiest people in America.” I had no idea a list like that was published, but I nodded anyways. “You became eligible for the list on your 18th birthday and yesterday we all found out that you’re worth nearly ten billion dollars! Mr. Bates claimed you as his son at a press conference a few hours ago and is flying down to visit you as we speak. Isn’t that terrific!?!”
The lady smiled and looked at me expectantly. I...didn’t know what to say. This was all too much. Joe Last was my father…but how could all these people be mistaken?
“I...thank you for the information. If you’ll just excuse me.” I turned around and bolted back towards my truck. Behind me I could hear shouting and the sound of people following me.
But there was only one thought in my mind. I needed to have a chat with Joe Last. | 2019-05-04T10:43:43 | 2019-05-04T09:56:06 | 1,560 | 226 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | Henry stared blankly at the blinking console. What did the words mean? "67th Percentile in INTELLIGENCE" flashed on the screen then danced away as "51st Percentile in STRENGTH" followed.
"Looks like you're here to be ranked."
Henry turned to see a woman with blonde hair smile at him. She stretched her smile wider as she grasped his arm. "You're not from around here are you?" she asked.
Henry nodded, and felt his ears grow hot as the blood rushed to his head. No woman had ever touched his arm before. With her shiny red lips she cooed, "You must be one of the farmers. Welcome." Henry felt her soft body press against him. Henry replied "Thank you ma'am. I -er I'm not sure what's exactly happening." The console flashed “42nd Percentile in WEIGHT.”
"You'll find out soon enough" she said. Henry could see she had light blue eyes. She wrinkled her nose and said “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you had a decent percentage?” Henry smiled back and felt another hand at his back.
“He looks promising.” A wide-eyed girl traced his shoulders and took Henry’s arm and placed it around her waist. She examined his face and said “Such beautiful skin. My god—those eyes!” “77th Percentile in HEIGHT” flashed in front of them. “Ooo that’s pretty high!” Henry looked around, another woman with tan skin walked towards him. Behind her, a woman with blonde hair motioned others to join her. Henry was dumbfounded. It had been all of 2 minutes when he entered town and suddenly he was surrounded by women. “90th Percentile in RESILIENCY” flashed on the screen. The women applauded.
“What was that?” Henry said.
“It means—“
“Eighteen is—“
“Once a year—“
All the women clamored at once. Before Henry could get a coherent answer, another message flashed on the console.
“95th Percentile in GENETIC DEFICIENCY”
Henry could hear “Ooos” and “Ahhs” from the crowd. He could hear excited laughter and the occasional cheers. He looked around to see more women flocking towards him. He had never seen so many at once. Henry’s ears were on fire. He knew they were excited about him, excited about the messages, but he could not understand why. He tried to glean meaning from their responses. Henry felt the blonde woman grip his hand tight. The wide-eyed girl started to say something when he heard someone exclaim, “Look!”
“99th Percentile in FERTILITY” flashed on the console.
All voices were silenced. Henry could feel the crowd of women turn towards him. He saw what looked like hunger in their eyes. | Year 5 was my earliest memory. I remember the cry of the roosters early in the morning while father worked in the slaughterhouse. Mother would clean the dishes and cook my sister and I breakfast. Every day around noon, father would come and take us into the field and have us help him work. By year 9, I was up at dawn with father tending to the gardens and crops. He was able to focus more on the livestock which gave us great product for town. Father wouldn't let us go to town. Sister began to tend to the horses at age 13. I was nearly 18. At this point, Father was in pain and I took on most of the farming. He would still go to town alone. We didn't attend school, but mother would teach us cooking and finances so we could be prepared. Father taught us business and people skills, but I never expected them to be so wrong. I turned 18 today. I woke up, knowing what was ahead of me today. Father has been sick. Too sick. He can't walk anymore and mother passed 2 months back from a bad bout of pneumonia. Today is the day I have to go into town for the first time. I give Father the morphine. I say goodbye to Sister. As I work my way down the three miles to the city gates, it's clear to me that this world is different than the farm. There are electronic signs giving statistics on all the businesses, with reviews going across the screens. Everyone stares ahead, barely avoiding each other like rats in a maze. They slip past me, barely noticing someone is there as their eyes dart around. I had seen cars drive by the farm, but never in such abundance. As I stroll through the town, people's focus begins to divert to me. More and more stares Pierce through me until someone whispers "did you see what his scores are?" And "I didn't know that was still possible." My body turns on a hell almost like instinct. "What are you talking about?" I ask, a bit concerned by the sudden attention.
"Of course he doesn't know, look at the numbers." They continued talking as if I wasn't there
"My God, I never though..." And still mocked me as if I couldnt hear.
"What numbers?" Their attention diverts again, back staring straight ahead, eyes darting side to side. I reach out and grab on of their shoulders. "What numbers, sir?" And in a flash, there is a wailing. Blue and red lights blind me as I feel a sting through my shoulder. The welt grows quickly as my chest hits the ground, 200 pounds on top of me. Then black. Then bright, white light. Then a voice
"This can't be right. These numbers are too low. He won't be able to survive here." What were they talking about? I try to speak but my throat is dry as my eyes slowly open. "Oh good, you're awake." He says, his eyes darting from side to side.
"Where am I?" I'm nervous and I can feel cold sweat dripping down my cheeks.
"You go and assault a man, and you have the audacity to ask where you are?" Assault? I didn't understand.
"I didn't hurt anyone. I was just trying to grab his attention."
"This your first time in town bud?" The second voice was gruff like father's, as if his throat were full of pine needles.
"Yes sir. I wasn't trying to cause a disturbance. I just turned 18 and my father is ill. I came to sell at the market for him." I looked at them, pleading for understanding.
"Well, son." The gruff man again, "you probably shouldn't be here. Haven't you seen your numbers?" Again, I was flustered and confused.
"What numbers? That's what I was trying to ask when you attacked me."
The first voice started again, "we didn't attack you, Boy. We stopped a degenerate farmer from hurting an actual member of society." And I began to shiver. "And as for the numbers, you're in last place in everything. You're the worst ranked human on the planet. The amount of plants killed alone makes me sick. That farm of yours is the last place on Earth people are still relying on nature and your father should have been dead years ago. You folk simply can't keep up."
And then I fell asleep. | 2019-05-04T13:10:44 | 2019-05-04T12:18:06 | 68 | 16 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?" | “Wait. That’s the curse?”
“Yes. I understand you want this gone as quickly as possible. I am so sorry this happened. I’m going to need-“
“I- can you please repeat what exactly this does? I think I’m hearing this wrong.”
The witch before blinked in surprise at my response and cough and quickly averted her eyes. After a few awkward seconds she picks up a rather large, leather book. She carefully flips the old, delicate pages with great care until she stopped at a picture of an adventurer armed with a broad sword and a cheeky smile. I always loved reading stories, especially fantasy. It was a whole new world for me, I felt ever sorrows and laughs the characters felt. It was as if I was actually there. And I guess I am today. He looked so... alive. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide and such passion within them! He must have been very happy.
The witch handed me this large story book of sorts and went to the cabinet, searching through vials of all sorts of unknown substances. Most looks like some herbs I had never seen but I noticed ones that contained purple hair, blood, dirt, moss, water, feathers, pebbles and some liquid that gave off a green glow in the cabinet’s darkness. *I really did travel to a new world, didn’t I?*
“I am so sorry but you are trapped here until we can reverse this curse. You can no longer go back to your old world. I know this may be tough but I will make sure to get you back to your family! This book entails another human, who just like you became trapped.”
I looked away and said nothing as my throat felt as though it was shut closed. Something clicked in the back of my throat as my eyes began to swell with tears. I didn’t bother looking up.
“Oh, dear. It’s okay! As long as you have that necklace you have hope to go back to your home. I promise you-“
I stopped listening all together at that point. A dark feeling that slowly took over my whole body and suddenly I snapped. I jerked my head up and tore off the cheap, plastic necklace from my neck. I didn’t care that it was ruined.
Actually, I decided I did. I stood up and tossed the necklace into the fire pit, watching the plastic fairy melt slowly into a puddle. I didn’t look at the witch but I could feel her eyes bore into me. I sat down in the floor and watched the flames for what seemed like hours until all that was left were a few burning embers.
How do I explain to her I had no home to go to? That the people who should love and protect me, never did. I have never felt safe in a home until I came into this world. I remembered the many faces I came to see in my time here and how kind and thoughtful they were. People gave me shelter, wisdom, new foods and so many wild adventures from just a few days. I actually felt happy. I had FRIENDS and I felt like I finally had a place I belonged.
Nobody hit me. Nobody called me names or pulled my hair.
The witch never said a thing to me that entire ordeal but finally spoke in a much softer tone than before.
“I am never going back. Never.”, I said firmly.
I finally looked up to see the witch’s wide eyes looking back at me. She gave me a sad smile and sat down next to me. She looked back into the once roaring fire pit and slowly nodded.
“Okay. No going back.”
After a short pause she took out a pair of silver keys with a decorative rose engraved on them. She clasped her hand over mine and gave me a sympathetic look. She gave a half hearted smile then looked back up at me.
“You’re welcome to stay in my home as long as you need. I was wondering if you wanted to help me run the shop, I can even teach you how to make any potion you want. Who knows? Maybe you can be an amazing witch one day.”
I grinned ear from ear and chuckled. She smiled back and leaned in.
“What do you say?”
“I’d like to. I’d love that a lot actually.” | Of course, it was not very pleasant. I just failed my payment. But then, it was not easy with the king getting his taxes, with my wife and children needing food. Yes, we had money, usually.
Not that winter. Who could have thought that it is war again? Who could have thought that we had to flee? We returned a few months later, but by then I was months overdue.
I made that pun. Whenever I was asked what the secret of my youth was, I answered with "Mary". They understood "Marry!", and I never elaborated further than saying that a good woman can give you a long life. I wish I knew how right I was.
The spring of 1620 was financially fine but not plentiful. But eventually I had to go to her. I brought the money. She was okay with it. But she had to curse me. It was a contractual agreement, but in an exchange for some payment she also would give me the means to break that curse whenever I wanted.
I had asked for youth, for a long life. She gave it to me.
"So. There is a curse. What is it? So... what's the downside again?" I nervously blinked. I don't do that anymore, but at that time I did. Her curse was that I would live so long that I would have to see everyone I loved die. Only then could I break that curse and die myself. Furthermore I would be the last of my bloodline. My children would not have children, my wife would not have any more children.
The war went on. It went on until 1648. We lost much, our house was destroyed twice. My eldest son fell in a battle, my youngest fell ill and passed away. My daughter, the only child left, eventually married but remained childless. Our marriage, in its beautiful times, ended with more pregnancies, but the children died at birth. The doctors were unable to explain it. When rumors came up in 1632, we had to leave the city. We moved away to a place where nobody knew us. Of course, I was cursed. But they thought we killed the children. They thought we were punished by God.
The hardest day in my life was when a child of my wife did not die at birth. It was then that I knew that she was no longer loyal to me. I pretended to go for work, but I drowned myself. I jumped into a river, I bonked my head, I slept for many hours. Or as I learnt later, I was unsoncsious. We did not have that word.
But I woke up. I coughed out all the water in my lungs. My cold skin turned warmer as my heart beat again. This was the extent of the curse. I would not die. I would keep my youth. I cried. At that day I cried more than ever before. And then I laid there for days. The hunger was overwhelming, but I could not really move. I ate grass, I drank the morning dew from it. But my legs, after having slept for hours after falling into the river, my arms even, only slowly regained their power. Eventually I stood up. I returned to my wife.
The townsguard was shocked to see me. I don't know why. I still don't know why. They said it was my face. But I looked into a mirror later, days later, and there was nothing. They also confirmed that it was gone. They refused to talk about it.
We reconciled, we lost, as I said earlier, once more everything. Near the end of the war soldiers fell into our town. I had to watch as... I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. I lost my wife that day, but after seeing what happened to her for hours, I felt it was for the better. Nevertheless I cried. I cried again. I cried for hours, if not days.
I don't really remember much of what happened afterwards. I opened a shop somewhere again. I was respected quickly again. But one day I disappeared. People thought I had died. But I ran away. I was still young. I was still beautiful.
I moved every few years, so people would not suspect anything. For quite some years I was in France. I named myself after my wife Germaine, taking the name of Comte de St. Germain. But I disappeared eventually. They never saw me eating anything, as I said I need special food. But in reality I had given up eating entirely. I remained young. I remained beautiful.
Please forgive me that I can not elaborate further at the moment. I would surely love to tell you what happened later. But as you see me writing here, you can be sure to receive the rest of my story. I have decided to break the curse at its 400th anniversary. I have seen empires rise and fall, I have seen my share of cruelty. But now, with the internet, with seeing the real horrors that humanity influcted, I believe I have seen enough. If I could go back in time, I would carry out all the failed attempts to change history. But I can't. I can only break this curse. Having lost everything once has made me someone looking for the ultimate truths. Have I found them?
Recently I stumbled upon what I had written many years ago. Maybe if all knowledge of the world was available, I would know it all.
I did not find the truth. I believe there is only one way to find it. Next year, at the 400th anniversary of the curse, I will know.
I hope it, at least. I really hope. | 2019-06-25T15:16:52 | 2019-06-25T12:08:02 | 61 | 19 |
[WP] A friend takes you out to dinner at an underground restaurant. While looking over the menu, you see your name under "Catch of the Day" | "This menu's outdated, mam," said the waiter, swiftly handing Lara another. "Please refer to this one instead. I'll be back shortly for your drink order."
Lara saw the waiter's eyes flash to her friend Jasmine, sitting across the small, poorly-lit table. Jasmine calmed her features quickly enough, but not before Lara saw the look of annoyance on her friend's face -- and not a small amount of anger.
"Did you see --" started Lara.
"What are you drinking?" interrupted Jasmine. "It has to be a martini -- we're getting over your ex, after all. This your bounce back night!"
But Lara wasn't concerned about the cocktail menu. She was still thinking about meal she saw offered at the bottom of her first menu: *And Finally, Your Catch of the Day: Lara Reynolds at Table 8!*
She glanced around the dim room. The restaurant wasn't large; Lara guessed there were no more than fifty diners, but they filled the space. The vast majority, she realized, were women -- and the vast majority were eyeing her hungrily.
"Hey Jazz," said Lara, now visibly anxious. "What did you say this place was called again?"
"*The Sea.* Just opened a few weeks ago. Do you not like it?"
"They're all looking at me." Lara was glanced around the room once more. Every set of eyes in the building was on her. Wide eyes. Staring eyes.
"Just choose a drink. It'll make sense soon."
But Lara was quickly escalating from nervous to panicked. Something was wrong. This wasn't normal. She took her napkin off her lap and began to stand --
"Oh fine," said Jasmine angrily. "That damn waiter screwed everything up. We'll just go now..." She waved across the room to someone behind Lara's back.
The house lights came up immediately. Carnival music played, diners applauded, and a tuxedoed man appeared on a small stage in the corner. He tapped the microphone theatrically before announcing:
"Welcome to *The Sea,* ladies! We're a little ahead of schedule tonight -- but that just means we'll get to the fun all the faster!"
Lara, bewildered, spun to Jasmine and demanded, "Tell me what's happening, right now!"
But Jasmine smiled wickedly. "Just listen."
"We've got a special one for you tonight, ladies," cooed the announcer. "Someone fresh out of a nasty split. Someone who needs our support more than ever!
"Now, please remember the rules: only positivity in *The Sea!* We're here to support today's Catch, to remind her that she is special, to help her understand that the world isn't over just because her relationship is over. Speak from the heart! And no trying to flirt with today's Catch -- unless she's into it!"
Over the cheering, Jasmine finally explained in Lara's ear: "It's a bar. They do special event's for the newly single. And ever since Lizzy left you, you've been so down, and I just thought..."
But Jasmine couldn't finish, not before the announcer cried, "So tonight, ladies, let's give a warm round of applause -- and a lot of love -- to our Catch of the Day: Lara Reynolds!"
The room erupted with wolf whistles and applause. A spotlight fell on Lara, and she stood, baffled, on the verge of tears. The announcer rushed forward, took her by the hand and kissed her cheek as he dragged her to the stage.
"Gorgeous!" shouted one voice. "I love your hair!" called another.
Lara looked back, caught Jasmine's eye, and mouthed 'thank you' as she took the stage.
\--------------------
404/365
one story per day for a year (and counting) read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\--------------------- | I was elated when Ella asked me to dinner. I'm not quite suave, and if it was on me to ask I probably would have fumbled over my words and asked her to be my dinner. I could manage to squeak out a more or less coherent acceptance, though. "Great, Alan," she said with a smile and a sly wink. "There's a nice Surf and Turf place down on 3rd. I'll pick you up at 7." It was a date.
I put on my best suit, then swapped it for khakis and a button-down before opting for the suit again. It was the right call. She pulled up in her BMW and stepped out in a stunning, backless red dress, long brunette hair flowing down over a shoulder. "You... You look great," I stammered and she gave me that wink again, as if she was telling me she knew. Thankfully she kept the conversation going in the car and I managed to seem acceptably articulate. "Do you come here often?" I asked as we pulled into the lot.
She tilted her head and gave me that wily smile. "Often enough," she answered. "They usually have a good special."
The restaurant must have had no more than a dozen tables, all but one of them empty and each meticulously adorned with a black tablecloth. Atop them sat a candle at each end of each table and two red roses sat in a small centerpiece vase. We were directed to the table adjacent to the only other couple in the restaurant. The chair was heavier than I expected and I flinched as the bottom scraped loudly against the floor and the other couple glanced at me in irritation. "Sorry," I mumbled awkwardly. Ella looked at me in amusement. The waiter was a well-built man with a thick neck and a chiseled jaw. I could just make out the top part of a tattoo climbing up past his collar.
"Good evening, Miss Ella," he said with a familiar smile. She must really come here often for the waiter to know her name. He placed two glasses of water and a drink menu between us and handed each of us a menu. "Would you like to start with anything to drink?"
I took a glance at the wine list. There were no prices marked. "I'll take your cheapest wine," I ordered, meeting the waiter's eyes. He nodded curtly and I could feel Ella's amused gaze upon me.
"I'll have the usual," she said. And then we lost ourselves in the menus and I basked in the welcome silence. My name caught my eye. "Catch of the Day" it read at the top of the selection of steaks. I had heard that term for fish. The kind of fish you eat, not the kind you ask on a date to the fanciest restaurant I had ever stepped foot in.
I glanced up at Ella to find her already looking at me. "A little surprise," she said seductively. I thought to myself that she must have really been a regular to have them change the menu to whatever she wanted. The rest of the menu was normal; your selection of filet mignon and grilled grouper and lobster.
"Did you ask them to put my name on the menu?" I asked curiously. It sounded dumb coming out of my mouth, like I was ruining a romantic moment by narrating it. At the table next to ours, I heard them both order the Catch of the Day and I wondered if perhaps I was missing out on a solid food option thanks to her cute gesture.
"You could say that," she answered vaguely. "I just gave them your name when I made the reservation." So she came on dates here often enough that they would edit the menu for her date. Interesting, to say the least.
The waiter returned a few minutes later, putting a glass of white wine in front of me and a blood red wine in front of Ella. His cold blue eyes met mine. "Sir, are you ready to order?" he asked, surprising me. They usually started with the lady. I rarely ate out, but I knew that much.
"I'll have the filet, medium rare," I answered. Two other couples, both dressed in their best, had entered the restaurant and they sat at tables near us. No other waiter seemed to be coming out to greet them so they looked patiently in our direction.
"Rare filet. Yes, sir," he repeated. I felt too awkward to correct him. "Miss Ella?"
She was still looking at me when he asked her and her eyes never left mine. "I'll have the usual," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I gulped quietly, my body stirring.
"Yes, Miss Ella," he confirmed. "One Catch of the Day." She smiled contently and the waiter turned back towards me. I felt a strong hand on my shoulder and then two more gripped my arms. The other patrons giggled gleefully as they looked on and Ella's satisfied smile grew wider. "That'll be right out," our waiter reported as my unseen assailants rudely pulled me to my feet and dragged me towards the kitchen.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-07-25T11:22:33 | 2019-07-25T11:04:45 | 99 | 10 |
[WP] God has tried and failed to end the world multiple times since 2015. It's pretty clear something made him indecisive. | "My Son, I have officially run out of ideas..."
*Couldn't you give them another chance, Father?*
"No, they are too far gone. They have walked the path of sin for centuries. I have tried to correct them with even the most extreme of measures. Yet even two global wars with the most despicable atrocities were not enough to unite them. Even after, they became more divided. A pure common goal of exploration and discovery was not even enough to set them upon the true path of harmony."
*I understand, Father. Maybe it is for the best that we start anew.*
"But I cannot begin new endeavors while they still live. They have progressed too far in knowledge and capability. I have used new wars, plagues, natural disasters, and more yet they seem to be persistent in continuing..."
*Maybe you are not going far enough, Father. Maybe you should try some of your methods during the time of your Dinosaurs?*
"NO, it would revert progress too much on this world. Too much life would be lost..."
*Not all life was lost last time, Father. Don't you remember? The world healed itself and life, the little that survived, persisted and later flourished.*
"Maybe you are right, My Son. Perhaps extreme circumstances require drastic measures..."
**BREAKING NEWS: Astronauts successfully move Earth-killing asteroid into geosynchronous orbit!**
"JESUS CHRIST, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" | We'd made a deal. That day when the lightning had come without the thunder, when fires had sprouted like flowers in the spring rains.
Our house of cards in an autumn gale; our walls of glass in a hailstorm. I'd been there when he'd made his decision, and I'd been there when he changed his mind.
"We're your masterpiece," I'd said, and the lightning ceased. A tornado descended, thunder's drums finally beat.
"Are you?" he asked when he was before me in his celestial form. Not human, because we weren't masterpiece enough; not inhuman, because we were as good as he'd managed to make.
I shrugged. I'd not expected it to work. I'd expected the next lightning bolt to smite me; the flood to come to drown me. "Sure."
"I thought you more a defect," he retorted.
He wasn't wrong. We were that last line of code on the day of the release, slipped in with the hope that it wouldn't all fall apart. But it had. Not in a day and not in a year, but thousands of years later and we'd all but done what he couldn't bring himself to do.
"Just let it be," I urged. What I took to be his arms crossed; what I took to be his face furrowed deep with thought. He tapped his foot and the earth quaked. "Trust me," I pressed. "We'll take care of it ourselves."
"How's that?"
I gestured vaguely. At the desert, vast as the sole of his foot under which he'd crush us. At the sky, distant as could be as it soaked up our prayers. At where we stood, that was once a luscious forest full of flora and fauna.
"Another blink for you, probably. A lifetime or two for someone like me. Before you know it, we'll be gone."
"Why?"
I scoffed. Who fucking knew? "Human nature, I guess. You tell me. You made us."
I didn't expect him to know. I'd written code like that before--so complex and muddled that even I didn't know what it'd been designed to do. That was us.
"Look, just take a break. Sit back and let the prayers fade into the darkness. Like you have been. We'll take care of getting rid of us for you."
I could somehow see amusement in that indecipherable swirl of sand and dust. "Fine," he said. "Keep doing what you're doing and we have a deal."
Figuratively, we shook. I knew us better than our own creator did. Things could change, but we never would.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-03-20T06:55:43 | 2020-03-20T06:52:53 | 1,368 | 68 |
[WP] You’re in a coffee shop, sipping at a medium latte. You think to yourself, “What if I’m the only one that can read minds?”. Suddenly, someone right looks at you, with the widest eyes. | *"What if I'm the only one that can read minds,"* I thought whimsically, eyes taking in the room through the steam wafting off my double-shot pumpkin-soy latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon and two sugars, thanks.
A girl with short hair, a long skirt, narrow features and wide eyes stared back at me.
*"Oh, god, she's so beautiful. I hope I haven't anything in my teeth,"* I thought as I smiled my best rogueish smile toward her, *"oh the things we could do to--"*
Abruptly she stood up, eyes narrowing, almost glaring at me.
*"Very respectful and mutually agreed upon things!"* I amended quickly in my mind.
She took one, then two large strides toward me.
*"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, please don't be offended!"* I thought desperately. I started to fidget nervously, shooting my eyes around the room, searching for something to hold on to.
She arrived at my table and drew her hand back, eyes focused intensely.
*"Oh this is so humiliating, let it be over quickly. "* I cringed inwardly and outwardly as her hand swooped down.
She swatted something off my shirt.
"Sorry, you had a spider, didn't want it to give you a fright!" She said with a smile.
"Oh, whew, my hero!" I said as I relaxed backward into my chair and gave her a grin.
"And there's nothing in your teeth," she said with a [wink](https://www.reddit.com/r/jacktheritter) as she walked away. | The look of surprise on his face was absolutely priceless. I looked down at my phone, latte in my right hand, and licked the foam from my lips slowly. I pretended not to notice the panic in his eyes as he continued to stare at me, before regaining his composure and pulled his phone out of his pocket, busying himself on the small device. I could read minds, and I had been doing it for a long time. Ive gotten good at tuning out thoughts that I don’t want to hear, so with a small amount of effort I brought my ability down on the panicked blonde man sitting three tables over. There was a moment of silence, then a quiet hum, before the mans thoughts flowed into my mind like a rushing wave.
“Oh god he saw me he saw me staring what the FUCK do I do now he’s going to think I’m insane I just have to tune him out I shouldn’t have been listening in on him anyways fuck fuck FUCK.”
I smiled to myself. Along with the ability to selectively read minds, I was adept at shielding my own thoughts from others, and only letting slip out what I wanted others to hear, or read in this case. I didn’t expect to catch anyone reading my thoughts, and not someone as green to their powers as this young man. I dialled back into his mind and listened again.
“What if he actually can read minds maybe he can help me me with all this god damn NOISE I can’t even think in peace anymore. At least its only me and him in this shop thank god for the silence maybe I should ask him yes I should ask him I just have to get up and go sit down in front of him I’m sure he won’t mind just say hi he looks super hot he can’t be a crazy serial killer or something could he….”
I dialled back my ability sat back in my chair. It was just as I had expected. He was new to his power and had a hard time controlling it. Well that really makes my decision for me doesn’t it, I mused to myself.
Scooping up my phone and my drink, I walked over to the young mans table, his eyes the size of saucers as he saw me approach. I pulled the seat in front him out and sat down, placing my drink and my phone on the table. I stuck my hand out.
‘The names Patrick, and you’re cute yourself,’ I said with a wink and a smile. ‘Pleasure to meet you, and yes, to answer your question, I’ll help.’
The look on the young mans face was one of shock, then relief. He smiled back and grabbed my hand in a firm handshake.
“My names Shawn, and…thank you. Thank you for offering to help.” He said with a smile.
I stood up again and motioned for him to follow, “We should get going, we have a lot of training to cover.” Sean stood up and drained his drink in one swig, tossing it into the nearby garbage can. With a nod and determination in his eyes, he followed me out the door. | 2020-05-02T19:10:54 | 2020-05-02T18:35:49 | 128 | 76 |
[WP] In a world of Supers, every ounce of power is important. Everyone ridicules you for only being able to do anything 75% of the way. They don't know you really meant *anything*. | A hero is more than just a Super.
They're the epitome of doing what it takes to bring out the best in others.
I always wanted to be that kind of hero. A charismatic leader on the forefront of a brighter future, a greater tomorrow.
But, fate can be a fickle mistress.
I was a late bloomer. My powers didn't come in until I was 14. By then, most of the kids my age had already been training to use theirs for the past 2 or 3 years. I was so far behind everyone in my year, the others had begun to call me Null, on account of my Powers being nothing up until that moment. Of course, once my powers came in, it was too late to lose the nickname. It just stuck.
Not knowing what my powers were at first didn't make my situation any better.
The first time I used them, I made a fireball, same as my mother, and I was convinced I was a Pyromancer just like her. But, the next day, after a demonstration from my professor, I made an energy barrier, same as his. According to my professor, that apparently meant I was a Copy Cat, a Super with the ability to mimic the abilities of other Supers, the caveat being that it would always be one at a time and a reduced version of the original.
I thought it was cool at first. The ability to copy the powers of my classmates and have them at my disposal. But, then I got my second nickname - Next. Why 'Next'? Because compared to the Supers who could use their powers at 100%, I was the next-best thing.
It seemed harmless enough at first, but then someone clued me in to its other meaning. In a world of Supers striving for the position of Number 1, I would always be second place. I would never be the epitome that others strive for. Instead, I'd be the next-best thing, always overshadowed by Number 1.
Adamant to prove them wrong, I worked hard to surpass my classmates in every field; but, the nickname was the bane of my existence until the day I graduated. Graduating second in my year only made it worse.
Things didn't get any better after graduation.
As a certified Super, I was free to apply to any Hero Sponsor of my choice, but once they heard what my power was, I was rejected over and over again. 27 sponsors. All said no. Each rejection like a blow to the gut.
Their reason? Apparently, it's hard to market a hero whose power may infringe on the brand of another Hero Sponsor. Go figure.
After a year of trying, I was at my wits' end. I didn't want to give up on my dream but I was beginning to feel the crushing weight of defeat looming over me.
That's when I met Mirror.
Mirror was a Super who, just like myself, had a power that depended on the abilities of other Supers and, despite having a dream of changing the world, also couldn't get a Sponsor to back him.
After getting to know each other over the course of a few months, Mirror and I came up with a way to do what we wanted. We became independent, for-hire Supers, our Sponsor who ever could afford the fees and damages that came with the line of work.
Our first year was like a dream come true. I even discovered that copying was never the true nature of my ability. The reality of it was, if a power existed, it was at my disposal. It was just easier to do the ones I had seen before. And it wasn't just one at a time either. If I wanted to, I could use any combination of them at anytime. The caveat of it being a fraction of the original ability was still there, but when you considered that some of those abilities were almost limitless in potential - a fraction of infinity is still infinity.
After the first year, it felt like the world was finally opening up to me. Like we could change the world.
And we did change it. But, when did it all go wrong?
When did I become the Number 1 Villain? | I was taunted all my life for it, "only 75%, might as well be a dud loser-girl" but boy oh boy were they wrong. they didnt understand what anything meant.
Theres the people who use their powers for good, and those who use them for evil. and the neutrals, us shades of grey not noticed by the papers.
one evil group, the four of clubs, as they called themselves were the strongest of us supers. the only two immortals, a boy with the power of the stars, and a mind controller a rank above all of the others. when they came to town, everyone gave up. we got our warning note last week.
still, they laughed at me
"Whats loser girl gonna do? cry 75% of her sadness away?"
"yeah, she might as well dig 75% of her own grave and save everyone the time."
over and over. every blue moon id hear one thats actually original, but that made it easier to tolerate if anything. but it was now or never.
the day came and i was the only one out. i had made a suit during the time of waiting, a simple purple shirt, black pants, and boots that went up 75% of my lower leg. no mask, and no cape.
the four of clubs came on time, like with everyone else they decimated, but it wouldnt be that simple.
"Hey, boss, someones out!" the star boy said, in an awfully childish voice. he had to be high school age.
"Oh... well why might this be?"
he turned to me and asked
"What is your name, i would feel bad taking your mind without knowing."
I stood up and got in a ready position before saying
"Its Rey, and it wont be that easy, i can do *anything* 75% of the way"
Of course, they started to laugh, another group of fools who dont get it. my goal was to kill them all. i looked over while they were still distracted, fortifying my mind, 75% of the way.
I pulled my knife and went for the two in the back, the immortals, and the biggest threats. not because of collateral damage, but because they normally cant die. normally.
The first one fell after a few good hits, and then everyone realized i was serious. i felt a twinge of pain in my head before the mindmaster swore. 75% as good as him is still 5x as strong as anyone else.
Next was the second immortal. my head still ringing i tackled him with 75% the force of the big bang. with my goal to be to kill them all, he fell too. 50% down, and the most dangerous in the long term. star boy started to flee, but i created a wall 75% the strength of the pressure of space. i couldnt have any of them leave, or else 75% changes.
the mindmaster changed strategies faster than i thought and brought in 6 people. only one of which i actually worried for. star boy noticed my looking at them and gave me a good flamethrower, luckily, im 75% fireproof in a 75% fireproof suit, so not much burned. i then felt the pain in my head again, slightly stronger, so i changed my fortifications from 75% of his to 75% of double what he has. the pain went away with that move.
getting sick of his trying, i pulled my knife from the first Ex-immortals heart and used power equal to 75% of the energy created in a year to make the blade 75% lead. most mindmelders were weak to lead, so he couldnt be much different, right?
I lunged at him with 75% the speed of light, but he teleported out of the way. a rare trait among mindmelders. not a suprise he could do it. i tried again with the same result.
he then tried to take another mental jab at me, to no effect. a laughable effort, but proving we were at a draw. but for my little sister, who he took over, i had to keep fighting.
I used 75% of the power of the strongest weaponmaster to shift my knife again, from a 75% lead knife to a 75% scale greatsword. i swung only to see i was still barely short on range. always too short.
i stopped for a moment, my breath heavy. how was i to get at that bastard? then, one of his mind slaves took a swing at me. Jerri, had the powers of conjuration. i dodged out of the way with a new idea.
i teleported with 75% accuracy to slightly to the left behind the mindmaster. luckily, i was off a bit, so i started to swing, getting him to teleport. i followed while mid shoulder barge, hitting him square in the back, knocking him over. i then swung for his neck, ready to finish it.
when i looked up, he was infront of me, and starboy was the one hit. the one i was trying to spare. i fought off tears, the kid was still evil, someone would have got to him anyway. i tried my best, but still, i couldnt fully hide my emotions. i felt my defences drop and the pain in my head come back.
the last thing i heard was the mindmaster saying
"Well, i commend you for your efforts, but you did say 75%, and i believe you have killed 75% of us, so now, my dear Rey, its my turn, though this has been fun"
and the sound of my bones cracking. | 2020-05-22T01:22:47 | 2020-05-22T00:28:51 | 153 | 61 |
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