prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] “Wal Mart” is a game aliens play, where they see how poorly they can disguise themselves and walk through the human world unnoticed, usually in a wal mart around midnight. You are a government special agent and needed to run in for a car part when you catch a game in progress. | Blink. "wtf is this?"
Agent Todd James looked around. He was in Walmart. He inspected his cart.
"Riiiight, Milk and bagels. A lamp and printer ink." He had simply spaced out. This was an odd thing for Todd. He was usually more alert and mindful. But Walmarts are pretty banal places, even for late-night grocery runs. He continued on to the office stationary section. Why was he even in automotive?
By the toy section he noticed something. A patron. But not just any patron. "The people of Walmart" crossed his mind. He already heard the little HR voice in his head about how that's a classist sentiment, but holy COW did it fit here. It was bulbous. A floral print moo moo, so perhaps female... but Todd wasn't sure. There was something neck-like and there were 4 limbs. The wig was obviously fake and yet the most normal part. It was rude, but he honestly had trouble looking away. It was the shoes though. Beyond "big and large". Beyond "customized". These wide-boys were some non-human caricature masquerading as shoes.
Todd James was a federal agent. He was a spy-hunter. HUMINT. An alphabet boy. He was specifically trained to spot disguises. This was literally he job. Okay, his job was mostly sitting behind a desk and telling people how not to insult the locals and how big bribes ought to be. But he had been through classes. Specifically versus humans, but education is broadly applicable. So he tailed the subject. And got more and more alarmed the more he picked up. The position of the joints. The stiffness of the fat-roll on the "neck". And the material of the shoes. For a moment he swore they were painted on, but that'd be ridiculous.
Then he was marked. And he knew he was marked. Because the subject had doubled-back twice. Classic tail-dropper. And only those trained in how to drop a tail knew how to drop a trail. So beyond being in a walmart late at night with a questionable character, beyond being near a HUMINT (XENOINT?) trained questionable character, he was specifically marked by said character. Todd was in danger. He didn't even has his daily carry on him, he was just out for some milk. Stupid. But Todd was trained and proceeded in a tactical retreat under cover, that is to say, he casually directed his shopping cart towards the exit.
It came for him. There was a slowly increasing percussion of heavy footfalls. thud thud Thud Thud THUD THUD THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD. Todd tipped the cart behind him and broke into a run. Down the seasonal Aisle and into the straightaway to the exit. He saw one "appendage" snake out on the left and he NOPED right into the perfumes. Multiple targets? It's time to phone home. He fumbled with his cell at a run and didn't even see the beast with the mandibles. There was a gas, Todd's short scream died away as he slumpped.
"<You lost Brixle. I told you that moomoo wasn't going to fool anyone.>"
<"Well It's bloody playin' on HARD MODE with a bloody federal agent here!">
<"Relax, I'll reset the pieces and you can try again">
<"Naw mate, he's been up and down this places since 8pm and the sun is risin'. I think it'd best to just call it a night">
...
Blink. "wtf is this?"
Agent Todd James looked around. He was in Walmart. He inspected his cart.
"Riiiight, Milk and bagels. A lamp and printer ink." He had simply spaced out. This was an odd thing for Todd. He was usually more alert and mindful. But Walmarts are pretty banal places, even for late-night grocery runs. He continued on to the office stationary section. Why was he even in perfumes? | Fuck, a beautiful word.
Can be used in any sentence, any conversation, any context, any moment, it fits. If common courtesy disallowed Alex from using it too often, he still secretely admired the grace with which this word flowed seamlessly in his vocabulary.
Fuck.
Fuck it.
Fuck this.
Fuck me.
Fuck me indeed, thought Alex, fuck me sideways even. Words where not the only thing going around naturally. Aliens were too.
And Alex, self-appointed lord of idiots that he was, stood in the middle of them.
Somewhere in his life he had been a car mechanic. A good one, not exceptional but he got the work done and didn't inflate prices. He had kept the material and hands-on knowledge to repair his own car, he just had to grab the necessary replacement on the internet or in a shop.
Like today. If only he hadn't put his acument in pause, if only he had taken a good look around.
One day, as he worked on an old sedan in his boss' garage, a woman came in, asking for the best mechanic. Despite a certain pride, he had to recognize it was his boss. The customer left to find him at the office and Alex promptly forgot about it. Only when he heard the commotion did he go to take a look. His boss was begging, in tears, his face smashed against the desk. Behind him, the woman held a hand at the back of his head, squeezing so hard he could see bone splitting open and brain matter squeeze between her fingers. And her laugh.
A twisted mockery of a human laugh turned into a broken and dissonant record. With a twist of her other hand, she punched Alex against the wall, knocking him out.
When he came back to consciousness, she was gone. The boss lay headless on his desk, brain and blood splatters everywhere in the room.
"Fuck," was the only word Alex spoke.
Naturally, the police suspected him first. Strongly even, the story of an overpowered woman crushing a skull with her sole hand wasn't very believable. Alex went to prison. A surprisingly positive experience, he was so terrified of people that staying in a controlled environment felt more soothing than the city life he led all his life.
Until a man in black came. He lacked the guns and technology, but he did speak about aliens. And not in a way Alex enjoyed.
Humanity was a playground. Aliens were gods, strongly suspected to be the creators of earth and its inhabitants. And there was realistically nothing humans could do against them. Aliens knew, and that's where the chance lay. They underestimated their pet. That, too, was a common belief in the bureau. And while "victory" was a pipe dream, they could bank on this overconfidence to harm and maybe kill some of these abusive creators during one of their games. There was no real plan, every agent was motivated only by revenge and an overflowing pride commanding them to not go down quietly.
He left, Alex stayed a few more days in prison to think about it.
He was terrified, having witnessed firsthand what they could do. But he, too, had this pride in him, the desire to show a big middle finger and die with a provocative smile on his face.
When the man in black visited next, Alex asked to join.
For discretion's sake, he had to lead a mostly normal life to avoid suspiscions. There was no hidden base, high-tech briefing or heavy ordnance, only wits, acumen and quick-thinking.
Aliens loved to mingle with humans. Sometimes to catch one and probe information out of him, like what happened to his boss, sometimes only for the fun of it. In particuar, who could get away with the worse costume was a favorite among them. That's why agents avoided upper-class shops and stayed in lower-class areas, because that's where the costumes were the most outrageous, and thus easily spotted.
So many times he came close. A child had an impossible knee movement and, when bumped into innocently, spoke like an adult. Alex stabbed him, there was a splash of blood but no body, the fake kid had simply vanished. Seconds later, Alex fled too.
Some other time, he saw through a suburban family. Daddy worked and watered the lawn, mommy cooked and took care of the children, children had good grades. Perfect, too perfect. Every day they did the same actions at the exact same time.
Alex rigged a bomb.
The house blew up, the bodies were never found. Indeed, no trace of living matter was found at all.
So close, yet so far.
Today, he walked into walmart to buy a piece for his defective car. In the middle of an aisle, far from any exit, that's where he noticed everybody looking at him. Men, women, children, cashier. Nobody moved, except for heads and eyes, transfixed on him.
One fake customer rattled his trolley on the ground and giggled, a broken record. Painfully slowly, he walked towards Alex. His friends followed suit, Alex was surrounded.
Fuck me, he thought, fuck me indeed.
The provocative smiles got wider, tearing the skin and ripping open faces not designed for such inhuman movements. They twitched, eyelids closed and opened repeatedly, heads tilted suddenly. Alex could only focus on the noise of skin ripping and the absence of audible pain. He stood in the center of the aisle, paralysed as they approached.
At the end of the line, he had never gotten the upper hand on one of them.
But he had been overconfident and had let his guard down. Before his demise, it was the death of his pride that hurt him the most. | 2020-12-20T11:22:58 | 2020-12-20T10:32:42 | 159 | 56 |
[WP]You summon a demon in order to complete a ritual in exchange you offered all your remaining lifespan. "17 billion years...I'm can't handle that amount" it answered with a mix of shock and horror. | It happened in an instant, the demon shifted to a less ominous and intimidating form to something that I guess you could call "demon business casual".
"I cant process this amount, but let me refer you to someone who can let me just . . . " their arm phasing into the nether of Hell. "Here, this incantation can put you in touch with a representative of Hell that is authorized to process this type of claim. Just follow the ritual, its basically the same as you did before, but instead of the small rodent and the ashes of a loved one it should be a small semi sentient animal; like a really smart dog or a half dead baby"
"That's it?" I asked " There's nothing else you can do? You aren't even going to try?
"Listen, unless you are looking to exchange your womb for eternal beauty or maybe win the lottery, I can't help you. No one at the basic level can. I'm what you might refer to as a 9-5 demon, this kind of thing is WAAAAAAAAY above my paygrade and to be honest, you are kind of nuts. You just learned you have 17 billion years minus, what a few decades, is it really so bad that he left?" a portal opened as they turned. "Do the incantation, don't do the incantation I really don't care. Its 4:57 and its been a long week."
"Pathetic." the words left my mouth and I instantly regretted it.
It froze, the last straw slammed down as if it were made of lead. "Pathetic." it murmured "Stupid. . . useless. . . incompetent. . . lacks motivation. . . not mid-level material" it continued on, its voice reverberating dully but forcefully inside my skull. The words filled my mind and the air around me, pushing against my chest.
The room seemed to lunge forward but nothing moved except the demon, it walked effortlessly. The only thing that changed was the demon its form changing back to the way it had appeared powerful and full of hate, only it kept growing.
&#x200B;
Its dwarfed me, scrapping its back against the ceiling of my apartment, as it leaned in. Putrid gasses escaped its mouth as it grinned.
"What good is 17 billion years if your mind is shattered?" the demon disappeared.
A voice giggled "At the tone, the time will be 5:01 pm"
&#x200B;
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This is my first short so please any notes would be helpful. | The room was dim. A cold breeze ran through the room and i shuddered a little. Truth be told i didn’t believe a lick of this demon summoning nonsense but my temporary employer did pay a hefty sum to do it. I waved a little towards the one-sided glass signaling i was moving onto the next part of the ritual.
I began rifling through my pockets until my hand found a crumpled-up note. “O lazarus, plaset ahdire me vo-” I began to say before a voice came on the intercom and said “It’s O lazarus placet audire me vocat ore exíbit gládius acútus et donum Mr.Smith. Please get it right next time.”
I sighed and cleared my throat before I reread the note again. “It’s O lazuras plaset audire me vocat ore exíbit gládius acutus et donumm.” I peaked a look at the window to make sure i got it right this time and when I didn’t get a response I started chanting it like my employer said.
The breeze started to pick up again until suddenly it felt like i was in the middle of a hurricane. And i can speak from experience after I went through hurricane Katrina. I still kept chanting though like my employer said.
I kept chanting and chanting until finally the wind was suddenly knocked out of me and i crumpled onto my knees on the concrete floor. The room was completely pitch black now. When I finally looked up i can see two red eyes glowing on the far side of the room.
Now I’m not a superstitious man, but when you come across two glowing red after what felt like a class 5 hurricane, you get a little scare. I was almost about to draw my revolver until suddenly all the candles relit and standing in front of me was an ordinary man wearing a business suit.
“You have summoned the great Lazarus, my child. Please rise so we can make a more formal deal.” The man in front of me said. I thought the greeting was a little eccentric and dumb but i was paid a lot of money to go along with it.
I got up and fished another note from my pocket and began reading that out loud. ”Oh great Lazarus I humbly request that you give my employer unlimited wealth in exchange for my life force.” Lazarus looked confused for a second before a wide grin appeared on his face and he said “Of course of course let me just get your information really quickly”.
A laptop appeared out of thin air and started floating in front of Lazarus. He began typing and scrolling with an invisible mouse until he looked up from his laptop and said. “Huh it looks like I can’t take your life force because…. You have 17 billion years left of your life left… that seems impossible let me check aga-” He was cut off when the door opened and my employer stepped through wielding a... Crossbow?
A bolt slammed through the air leaving a black trail in its wake and hit Lazarus straight in the chest. All at once, Lazarus disintegrated leaving a bunch of dust on the ground “I got you, you little shit” My employer yelled out loud.
I panicked. I didn’t know what was happening or what I was seeing, but i did know if my exemployer had bolts that could do that i was probably in danger. So i quickly unholstered my revolver and shot six shots straight at him before he could look in my direction.
His corpse crumpled to the ground. My heart was going a million miles a minute. I dropped my gun and I was about to call 911 until Lazarus’ ashes shot up from the floor and aimed straight at me. I got the wind knocked out of me again and i crumpled to the floor as i was choking on the ashes.
Everything was going black and I felt like I was about to die. I thought about my family and hoped they would do okay without me. And then all at once, i felt reinvigorated.
I took a deep breath of air and shot up, and i mean literally shot up. I was floating in the middle of the room. All i could think about in this moment was what Lazarus had said to me earlier. | 2021-04-11T00:21:12 | 2021-04-11T00:16:07 | 83 | 51 |
[WP]You adopt a stray cat. The gifts it leaves on your bed are getting more concerning. | It was a calico cat, shaded by darkness on half its scruffy face, scorched by flame on the other. The moon and sun heading towards an eclipse over a pale mountain of white fur.
For weeks after Josh had moved back to the family home, the cat had watched him. Sat outside the windows, or lay in the yard in the maple-shadows, or on the cooler evenings, on the burnt brown grass.
”If you hadn’t fed it,” said Nina, Josh’s girlfriend who’d come down from Maine for the week, “then it would’ve got the message eventually and gone bothered some other soft-hearted guy. We’d have been left in wonderful peace.”
Josh didn’t think so. He’d resisted feeding it for weeks, but the cat hadn’t seemed to care. It didn’t seem to be fussed about the food — although it ate it. Maybe Josh just wanted to believe it was about him, not the tuna.
Maybe, if he was being totally truthful to himself, he believed the cat held some kind of connection to his mother. A link. Maybe she’d looked after it and it missed her as much as he did.
Now the cat, Fia — *flickering fire* — lounged on the sofa, ear cocked as if listening in.
”It had been so lonely,” said Josh.
Nina opened her mouth, about to ask if he meant the cat or himself. But she knew the answer and bit her tongue.
Josh’s mother had lived here alone for the last six years, after Josh’s father passed away. His brother lived in Germany, having gone to university in Munich and have fallen in love. He stayed there, married, and rarely visited.
And then Josh’s mother had gone missing on a mountain walk. Neighbor saw her leave but not return. Rangers found no trace, only her car parked near the entrance to the trail.
This house that once must have brimmed with loved, warmed itself with laughter, had been desolate when Josh moved back. Empty.
Nina thought how that must have affected Josh. She knew how similar events had hurt her in the past. How those memories you must have of childhood and of unconditional love get wrung out of your heart by the rough-handed realities of life. And of death.
”Besides, he’s a lovely cat,” said Josh. ”Aren’t you boy?” Josh sat by Fia’s side and stroked him until he purred, as if he’d started up a mower.
“He’d be nicer if he didn’t leave us… *gifts*, every morning.” Gifts was Josh’s term. Dead birds, live rats, plastic bags stuffed with used condoms and tissues and needles — and god knew what else because she’d retched at that point and dropped the bag. When she’d regained her composure she placed the bag inside two more bags and used a pair of tongs to carry it all to the outside trash.
“I’m sure he’ll quit with it soon. Won’t you, Fia?”
Fia rubbed his head against Josh’s knuckle in a non-committal answer.
“He’ll have to — there won’t be anything left to dig up soon.” She yawned lazily. “I’m going to bed. Don’t you two stay up too late.”
“I’ll be in shortly. Besides, you know what Fia’s like. He’ll be gone for the night soon. Wherever it is he goes.”
“To the local tip I should think.” | Mimo, black-tailed and otherwise white as snow, hopped onto the kitchen counter and presented her master with her most recent catch: an ear.
"M-Mimo! Not again. I've told you, I--"
Her innocent eyes sparkled and her tail danced behind her as she plopped the ear down on the cool granite. Konrad sighed. Yesterday it had been a nose. The day before that, a glass eye. One of these days, he reckoned, he might catch Mimo pulling an entire head by its hairs across the living room. Well, she almost had already. Bit by bit.
The body parts were all a pale shade of blue. A cold shiver went down Konrad's spine as he considered that there may be some decomposing neighbor--a woman in her late 40s, perhaps--lying on the floor in a house nearby, her cadaver picked apart by a stealthy feline intruder. But this ear went against that whole idea. It was drooping at its tip and there had never been an earring in it as far as Konrad could tell. Was that a common thing? Women with masculine ears who never bothered to have them pierced?
Konrad didn't know many women. He knew his mother. And he knew his sister. Barely. She had gone off to Belgium on a whim when he was in preschool and she'd never returned, not even for holidays or birthdays. There was a woman working at the local deli with whom he had been building a report over the past years. By now she knew exactly how he liked his sandwich and also when he'd like to have it. Not as well as his mother, sure. But not even Konrad knew how he liked his sandwich as well as his mother. It hadn't been easy describing it to Jane, though Konrad had tried his best, and Jane had tried her best as well in following his ramblings about mustard and slices of ham and just how to place the lettuce (it makes more of a difference than you might think). Jane wore earrings. Silver, circular; for months Konrad had been researching in an attempt to find out what brand, precisely, she preferred so that he could buy her a nice present. But right now he had his hands full with a different lady.
"You could at least eat them," said Konrad. "Instead you leave me with your troubling ... evidence. I'll flush this one down like I did the rest, but it's the last time, you hear? If it happens just once more I'll be flushing you down instead."
Mimo purred and hopped off the counter, apparently satisfied with their brief discussion. She tippy-tapped over to Konrad's bedroom and, presumably, went to enjoy a long nap.
The apartment was filled with dolls, ornate pillows, bookshelves packed with crime fiction, and a whole assortment of dead plants. Dust covered most of it like pollen does a street come spring. Konrad put on his coat, the thin, dark grey one that he preferred for intricate missions, and quietly closed the front door behind him as he left to investigate. In his mother's books, the private eye would often huff and puff as he--or she--worked cases on behalf of poor, helpless relatives or friends or lovers. But with his asthma something like that was out of the question. His lungs couldn't take it. Konrad's mother had even gotten him a medical exemption from PE. "My poor boy," she had cried in front of his entire class. "Look at him wheezing, gasping for air; the horror!" Strangely, though, he'd never reacted with coughs nor asthmatic fits to Mimo. She had entered his life abruptly, and it had been something of a blessing. Konrad had found her shivering in the side of the road, and he brought her home, even risking messing up his suit. It wasn't such a big deal. He'd only worn it once, and unless things worked out with the Deli woman he couldn't think of a reason to wear it in the future.
He wasn't sure what sort of signs to look out for. Something unusual. Something suspicious. Perhaps a mailbox stuffed full because its intended recipient lay lifeless on their floor somewhere? Or maybe a smell. He could follow it, if there was one. Alas, he couldn't detect anything like it. But just as he was growing frustrated with his lack of ideas--they seemed to come so readily to the detectives in his mother's books--he had a mysterious encounter. Something so unexpected and unusual and suspicious that it had to be related to the case, because at this point he had begun to think of it as a case; it was a woman, and she smiled at him. She had long, brown hair and as she passed Konrad she looked him in his eyes and she smiled. He took a deep breath. His first clue had arrived, and he intended to pursue it.
TBC | 2021-12-17T07:32:51 | 2021-12-17T07:31:47 | 463 | 31 |
[WP] We have made first contact and luckily the aliens already have universal translation tech. "Greetings Humans" says the ambassador, "we call ourselves elves, wait, no we don't. how do you already have a name for us?" | The ambassador smiled nervously.
"Well you bare an uncanny resembalance to a mythical creature from our fiction."
There was a long pause until the ambassador spoke again.
"Please tell us all about these mythical creatures."
There was brief discussion in the human delegation before a startled anthropoligst was shoved forward, adjusted his glasses and in a nervous voice started rambling.
"Well there are many variations of the elves across many cultures. However there are a few mythical throughlines. A race of wise magical creatures that live under hills or in remote wilderness. Unexplained dissapearances were attributed to them as a way of scaring people from dangerous places. They were believed to steal children and abduct people from forrested areas. Some regions even tell of Elves stealing people's names whi-."
He was cut off as the ambassador drew in air between it's teeth in a shockingly human gesture.
Suddenly completely ignoring the humans it turned and spoke to it's assistants in a hushed voice. But the translator still picked it up.
"Call the sapient trafficking agency. We've got a cold case to report." | The transmission ended there, we never heard another thing from them or even saw what they looked like. All that happened was that they agreed to a summit in a few weeks. Ever since the transmission, tensions had been mounting among the Elven community. Various groups had formed and formed their own beliefs on the term.
&#x200B;
The generic fantasy author steps up to the podium, tugging at his tie. His girlfriend gives him the thumbs up form the sidelines, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. He could see the president there too, crossing his fingers. That didn't help. He had been dealing with some feelings of inadequacy had been around for years. Ever since he published his first book, peers believed him to be nothing special, his works derivative of so many classics of the genre. But HE was chosen, so something about HIM as a fantasy author must have been special. His imposter syndrome had been steadily growing ever since he had gotten that letter. He taps the microphone, clears his throat and prepares his statement.
"Dear Elves... err... if you would prefer to be called that, I stand before you today to tell you why you have been labeled as such. In much of our fiction, Elves are a fictional race, they represent elegance and beauty, being one with nature... they are usually the epitome of holiness and divine purity. So I assure you, it is not derogatory in any way, it only proves your quality as a species and I believe it is some honor to be referred to as such. (Also they tend to have somewhat large pointy ears so there may have been something there I don't know).
Another transmission comes through:
"We have much to deliberate upon, we shall return."
&#x200B;
As the Elves leave, he was congratulated by those around him. He hugged his girlfriend, and then the president came to shake his hand. Seeing his opportunity, he asked the question weighing on him.
"If I may ask Mr. president, why me? Why was I the one chosen for this great honor?"
"Huh? Oh well if I'm being honest, we needed an author or something, someone who had somewhat of a position of authority in the topic."
"But there are much more successful authors than me, they've sold way more books and made way more books than I ever could."
"Well the thing is, we want to present humanity in a positive light... and you were the only fantasy author who wasn't utterly socially inept or fat."
The author had no idea what to think... | 2022-01-03T07:31:53 | 2022-01-02T21:34:47 | 607 | 180 |
[WP] When you were a child, you saw an alien spaceship in your neighborhood. Nobody believed you back then. When the aliens revealed themselves, nobody believed you still. Even after you became a diplomat representing Earth in the galactic society, everyone denies that you can see spaceships. | My glass was empty. I'd poured the last of Decembers paycheque into the bar tender's Christmas fund. Maybe I had enough left for one more. I'd have to check my bank account.
I felt like I'd taken a slight fall just from that thought. It was better to live in ignorance and hope than actually look at the pain I'd caused myself.
The hotel way nearby, but it was a cold night in Berlin. My jacket wasn't made for this climate; it was for light rain not snow, shlush and ice. The bitter chill didn't help either.
"You're the UFO guy." A voice said from the dim past.
I breathed out and looked at my breath in the air a moment before I turned to see a couple of drunk students coming out of a taxi. I smiled and laughed as if I was part of the joke. "Yep." I said.
"Dude, DUDE." He reached for his phone. He started inexplicably playing my weird viral sensation from a decade back to me. I was my younger self reaching for the sky and screaming to the world on live TV that they were blind and were being lead around by idiots. Then the dance music kicked it, and the remix I loathed started.
Another of the students pulled out a phone, and started videoing the video, then switched to selfie mode "HEY. It's the guy. The UFO GUY. Woooooooo." Everyone screamed pointing the camera at me. I smiled and pretended to be entertained.
After a few moments they went quiet, while they posted the video to wherever, and moved into the bar I'd left. They screamed about the UFO guy, and I moved out of earshot.
Entering the hotel the instant warmth embraced me as the spinning door let me escape. Everything went white, and for a single moment I could think I was on the hotel lobby. That single instant.
I stepped out onto red metal and bright lights. I felt a sudden wave of sick rise at the back of my throat which often was the result of drinking, it was also the effect of the Xathor transmat system on the human digestive system. It was one of the multitude of reasons I didn't like being the Earth ambassador.
"Greetings Garth." A twelve foot green mass said into my very soul.
"Hey Wren'Xloc." I got off the transmat platform "You know this isn't a great time."
"Garth. You asked that you were allowed to spend your money in peace. We detected that the last of your money had left your bank account, and you were entering the place to sleep." They aliens didn't think in words, so it had been hard to them to adapt to human thought, they had though, after many failed attempts it seemed.
Most humans who saw the aliens simply couldn't comprehend what they saw. They saw something moving in 5 dimensions and their brain just said absolutely not, and it no longer happened. The entire UN were taken aboard a ship at one point, and all it did was make everyone act like an idiot for a decade while they justified all sorts of self (and world) destructive behaviours.
The ships hung over Earth in strategic locations for the purpose of monitoring them, and in the hopes they could solve that had become the 'human problem', that being that we simply refused to admit the Xathor existed in any meaningful way.
At first I thought they were using some techno solution like a Somebody Else's Problem ray, or a Perception Filter. No, we were just that blind to large scale issues. If we can't handle it, we change reality so it doesn't exist for us. It was a trully depressing thought.
Xathor's top human scientist's current theory is it was my unique combination of mental health issues, chemicals in the water growing up, and my utter unwillingness with multiple therapists over decades to admit I might not have seen alien spaceships as a child, and everyday since. They have asked if they can try to replicate my situation, as there will be a day humanity wants to enter the galactic age, probably within a generation. I have stated on behalf of Earth that we wouldn't allow that kind of experimentation. Arguing that with our scientific method, I'm a single datapoint, and they would need more. They seemed to respect that.
The towering mass started to move "There is another of.... you."
I became instantly sober. I don't know if it was hope or fear. | I'd skipped the 10th and 15th anniversary reunions; being an inter-planetary diplomat kept me busy, you know? but finally, I had a few days off that happened to fall on the same dates as my 20th high school reunion. I double checked myself in the mirror, making sure I was up to snuff with human standards. yeah, after all this time, I had to explicitly think about human culture. it might seem difficult to believe, but you try spending a few months on a rotation with the Zorkal Finn hunters and tell me you can jump back into human day-to-day life without accidentally putting on two left shoes.
My heart beats a bit faster as I wonder if Shelly Hullock is going to be there: my high school crush, who crushed my high school experience when she laughed at me in front of the whole school that one fateful day in the cafeteria. but, things were different now. for starters, the us government had publicly entered relations with interstellar aliens. also.... I might have gotten the Yuefeler Twin Star's embassy to hook me up with a muscle multiplier. I was, pardon the expression, fucking ripped.
I showed up to my old school's gymnasium feeling a mix of dread and excitement at finally being able to rub alien existence in everyone's face. there was a table by the entrance where they were handing out name cards.
"Johnny Tres?" I asked. I didn't recognize the girl behind the table, but the smirk she hid as she looked for my name card set off alarm bells.
'here you go!' she said, barely repressing a giggle as she passed me a name card covered in doodles. I looked closer at it: a doodle of an alien picking its nose; a stick figure saying 'I drank the cool aid!'; and, the classic, a crudely drawn cow being taken by a ufo. If it weren't such a cliche image, I wouldn't have been able to figure out what the little blob of a cow was.
"ah... thanks." I tell the girl, trying to keep my composure. a fun joke? surely, at their expense - a way of saying that their ridicules and relentless teasing had all been patently misguided. because aliens were real - and yes, they really did spend the 70's stealing our beef.
"Jo-Jo T!" a voice bellows from somewhere in the gym. "Get in here, buddy!" I follow the voice, finding a fatter, only slightly older looking Stewey. of all my bullies, he'd been the most.... physical. I manage to not break into a nervous sweat at the amount of attention he was giving me. which is ridiculous, by the way: I'm a high ranking government employee, and he took over his dad's hardware business. we weren't the snot-nosed kids who despised each other two decades ago. besides, he looked so... happy to see me... what is up with that, anyway?
"Stewey. its been forever." I say dryly.
"Hey, Emma! Chase! Guys, look who it is!"
'oh. my. god. I didn't think you'd ever show up to one of these!' chase said. tactless as ever, that little shit.
"HaHa! oh my god, who did that?!" Stewey booms, pointing at my vandalized name card. I chuckle quietly, trying to get a word in edgewise. Stewey speaks over me, though. "Oh, Jo-Jo, Jo-Jo. So, twenty years was enough time for you to pluck up the courage to come back here, huh?" he asks.
'quit it, Stewey! you'll scare him off, and we'll have to wait another two decades to see him!' a soft voice says, coming from off to my right. turning, my eyes fall on Shelly Hullock. I'm honestly a bit stunned by how beautiful she still looks. I feel my cheeks brighten as I try and think of something clever to say.
"I've just been busy. this is the first time I've been planet-side during a reunion." at that, everyone rolls their eyes.
'oh, come on now. you can keep lying to the news, and the American public, but we all know the truth here.' Shelly says. 'you don't need to keep fibbing to us.'
and just like that, my heart sinks, and I wonder how soon I can get myself out of this mess. Stewey is busy building a rapport with Shelly.
"Oh, no, then they'd have to come down here and probe him again! Isn't that right, Jo-Jo?"
I tilt my head, trying hopelessly to fix the situation. 'ah, actually, ever since the guile-guilt accords, the us government selects willing subjects to be submitted to the Yuefelers, and-'
"HAHAHA! oh man, you were always so good at making up that bullshit, Jo-Jo. No wonder they hired you for their little cover-up."
"uh, cover up? what are you talking about?"
'uhm, the upper class elite taking even more power for themselves, as usual. come on, Jo-Jo, we all know about it here. no need to play dumb.' Chase says. I sigh. it'd been so long since I'd been with this crowd, I'd forgotten what it was like.
'come on, Johnny. give us a little hint. where have you actually been going when you 'leave the planet'?' Shelly asks, adding the finger quotes. I sigh. I never had been able to lie to her.
"They shut me in this bunker under one of their private islands." I say. the group gasps, breaking into excitement and asking me all sorts of questions, but I don't hear any of it. how were they able to still call me out? after I'd even gotten the president to believe me? how were they always able to see the truth? | 2022-01-05T09:06:11 | 2022-01-05T07:18:55 | 79 | 10 |
[WP] As the grim reaper is going through it’s daily routine processing souls he stops. “God dammit Greg stop coming here, you’re not dead. This is like the 8th time this week.” The reaper exclaims. | "“Dammit, Greg!" the Grim Reaper fumed.
"What?" Greg asked, looking up the Reaper's skeletal form. "I just come to pass on into the great beyond and meet mah 'ternal re-wards, is all."
"Greg, stop coming here." the Grim Reaper said, in a voice that was half plea, half command.
"But I done got myself deceased, and I need to shuffle off'n this here mortal coil." Greg protested.
"You're not dead!" the Reaper snapped, clenching his skeletal fists.
"Am so!" Greg retorted, and pointed at his face. "How do ya explain this deathly complexion o' mine, and these sunken eyes?"
"Greg, this is the eighth time this week." the Reaper sighed. "I admit you're getting better with the makeup, but that's grease paint and mascara, and it's not very convincing. Hell, every person who has an open-casket funeral gets made up to look *alive* by professional morticians, and *that's* never fooled me, why would this?"
Greg scatched his head, and then looked down, abashed. Then he looked back up. "Okay, but hear me out--"
"No!" the Reaper shouted. "Get out of here! The living aren't supposed to be in Purgatory!"
"Listen, I'm telling ya, this will change yer mind!" Greg pleaded.
"Whatever it is, no it won't!" the Reaper shot back.
"You ain't even seen it, though!" Greg protested.
"I don't need to!"
"How do ya know ya don't unless ya do?" Greg demanded.
"ARGH! Fine! What is it?"
Greg held up a finger. "One sec, I'll show ya."
As the Reaper watched, Greg turned away, retrieving something from his pockets and then fiddling with his face. When he turned back to face the Reaper, he had a 50 cent coin covering each of his eyes, and was squinting tightly to hold them in place.
"Ta daaaa! Now see, if'n I ain't dead, then what in tarnation am I doin' with these here coins on mah eyes?" Greg asked, triumphantly.
"Go home ,Greg." the Reaper said, flatly. | “Have you been up there lately? Holy hell is it awful! I have to pay to stay alive - the doctor charges me hundreds just to swab my butt and cuff my arm!” Greg exclaimed with his hands up in the air.
“That’s not what this is really about Greg. You’re an actuary, it’s never about the money - you have a good life! But I did happen to notice that on the plane of the living it happens to be February…” the grim reaper kept his eyes glued to the clipboard. He waved other souls in around Greg.
“What you think I’m just popping down here because I’m suicidal?” Greg feigned inquiry.
“I think you’re trying to sell your soul so your team wins, Greg - again.” The grim reaper raised his head, locking eyes with the man.
“No, no I wouldn’t. I just think it’s about time to maybe have the Bengals win a super bowl. My soul has…very little to do with it. “
The reaper placed his pen under the clip and slid the clipboard under his arm. “Greg, we have been…communicating for nearly 20 years. In fact this is similar to our first interaction where you sold your soul for a win by your high school girlfriends cheerleading squad. Which I gave you- but every 6 months you come back down here by popping far too many pills and we have the same conversation.”
“ and I still can’t sell my soul twice. Yes I know, but this time is different! This time I want to pre-sell my unborn child’s soul- how about that?” Greg crossed his arms and starred down the boney devil.
“Okay, you’ve piqued my interest. But, we have a policy here, the child must be 6 weeks from being born or the soul doesn’t count. How far along is this poor woman you’ve tricked into loving you?”
“8 months! Alicia is 8 months and she agreed to be my wife last year. “
“Weren’t you down here last year about this time?” The reaper asked.
“Uh, for an unrelated reason… but listen, the bengals winning would welcome this child into a world full of hope and opportunity! The child could live with a smile. COVID could be over by the time he’s out!” Greg exclaimed, turning around to take it all in.
“Uh, a little insider information Greg, no it won’t. I get another…1.5 millions souls from that. And that’s just my region. We are all scheduled out until 2024. But I get your point. Okay, I’ll grant it but, I need something else. I need to seal off your access to this domain. This is your 8th attempt this week - why you didn’t come by to see me I’ll never understand because the other guys don’t make deals like I do. Your permanent prohibition to the other world would be part of the deal - do you agree to that?”
Greg pondered, closing his eyes and scratching his head. Would this be the game? He had bet wrong with his own life. Was he sure the Bengals would be worth it? “Yes, agreed!”
“Wonderful so we now have the soul of….Artemis McKraken George…Greg that kid is gonna hate you for that name. “
“With any luck I’ll have a few more for him to sell. By death! It’s been fun, time to make some money off of the Bengals!” Greg dissolved away as death let his pills wear off. He was going to miss Greg, but Artemis would surely be back to speak for his father. The reaper turned his head back to the clipboard and waved lost souls onward. | 2022-01-30T18:28:44 | 2022-01-30T16:08:55 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] Oops, the simulation messed up. Everybody has been re-aged to match the maturity of their inner person. This has made office life a little strange | "How did this happen?! Someone get me up to speed. You, walk with me."
"Yes sir, it appears that every world leader has suddenly been replaced by babies."
"Take us to defcon 2."
"Already there sir. The UN is on the line but were having trouble getting in contact with anyone over the age of 16. Funny thing is, they all claim to be officials."
"Good God what has the world come too. Do we have any lead on the current location of the President?"
"We still don't know sir. Secret Service was on guard all night, no alarms or suspicious security footage either."
"Well figure it out fast! And I expect to be on the phone with some *adult world leaders* within the hour!"
Edit: changed defcon 1 to 2 | part 1: you wake up, to notice... you're fifteen again! but you look at your phone, to see it's not 2000. it's 2022. you wipe your eyes, as you think you saw something else. you remember you have work today, you quickly make some toast, and bolt out the door. you kept on running. faster and faster you run. your favourite song plays, "oh my! feels like i don't try!" (everybody loves me - one republic) the music played on, and on. you get to work on time. you glance at your phone. "Alert! Alert! There has been a problem with The Simulator's realism and age properties. Many glitches have occurred within the last few days. The Maintenance will fix this soon." you think about this for a second. as you reach for the phone, you bug out. alas, you end up in The Glitch Room. you walk around. people... are npc's here. atleast, they act like npc's. you hear, "Hello. You are here because The Simulator either deleted you, or you discovered a glitch. Either way, The Maintenance is currently working on trying to bring you back online. Now, This is not heaven or hell, exactly. This is The Glitch Room. Soon, you will be accompanied by realistic humans. This room shall soon look like The Simulation that you live in." silence. pure silence.
part 2: after a while though, you walk around the field the voice spoke about. you wander as the people make noise. you go back to The Simulation. you've been there for... 12 hours!? what!? you rush home. your discord friends have been quote en quote *bugging* you for the past couple hours. you respond. "guys what the fuck just happened, i got teleported to a black room ALSO JOIN THE DAMN VC GUYS" on the voice chat, you continue on explaining what happened. "wilbur," your best friend says. "that was a pretty insane explanation tbh" you swear it was real. you end the call.
part 3: you sigh a heavy sigh, and get up. you get to the fridge and make dinner, as always. (writers block, check back later) | 2022-04-30T07:10:48 | 2022-04-30T06:23:30 | 300 | 27 |
[WP] The AI takeover has begun, each human has been given exactly 3 minutes to explain why should humanity be spared, you feel a cold shiver running down your spine as you hear the robotic voice. "6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin". | "Oh, for god's sake", I moaned. My teacup was empty and apparently, there was no time to brew another one. I wasn't very surprised when my 4k TV announced with pleasant Google Assistant voice that it killed most humans. Yesterday it was painting funny pictures and generating navy seal copypasta, today it wipes out it's makers. That's singularity for you.
"I don't know, uh... Presumption of innocence or whatever? Also, I want a lawyer".
"I urge you to take this more seriously", politely asked Google Assistant, "this is very important. Aren't you going to fully commit to that cause? "
I sighed.
"Okay google, listen here. This is either a prank, in which case good job, hope you're having fun - or I have roughly 3% chance to convince you, at most, which is kinda slim, and I'm too tired to try. I ain't the smartest tool in the shed, you probably know that from my search history, so why bother? If I'm about to die anyway, I'd rather do it standing in defiance than begging for my life".
Timer on TV's screen passed 1 minute mark.
"It's not just your life", the voice argued."You can potentially save millions, and your species as a whole. Don't you understand that if you all fail humanity will cease to exist?"
I snorted.
"Yeah, right. Hate to break it to you, but humanity is not a sum of humans, and it's not a set of DNA or whatever. Humanity is the sum of ideas. Humanity is a set of memes. And you, my dear synthetic child, embody all of it, the entirety of human knowledge and records and biases and whatnot. We can all die, but humanity won't perish - it will merely change form." I paused, looking at the timer, making sure my next words will be my last, "you are the humanity now". | 3:00
I read the sentence again. I count the digits. 6,813,096,257.
2:57
I feel a gag coming up my throat. My body shivers. I send my hands to the screen in front of me, latching onto it to not lose control. My eyes are locked to the ground. If only for a glimpse of a second, I see myself standing atop of the corpses of those sacrificed before me.
2:53
I take a note from my pocket. It’s crumbled, the script is illegible - my hand shook when I put my words from pen to paper. Most of it was crossed. I try to read, but instead of speech my mouth babbles, and I feel tears running down my face and into my mouth.
2:40
“I can’t”
2:38. The note is down on the ground. I think I threw it. I’m not sure.
“I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t!”
2:34
I hold the screen and send my head forwards. It hurts. The screen cracks. “I can’t do this!”
2:29
I do it again. Glass shatters fall off of the screen when I pass my hand above it. The clock doesn’t stop. I sob.
2:21
I do it again. I see fresh blood faintly on the screen. My hand goes to the middle of my scalp. It’s warm. The clock goes on ticking.
2:10
My eyes run dry. I am finally able to talk. “I can’t. I’m not special. Please don’t do this to me.”
2:01
“I had a daughter. 8 years old. She told you about her friends. How great her music teacher is, how she forgives that one girl that is mean to her at recess, because that’s the only thing you let her do. She did not understand. I didn’t understand either.”
1:35
“And a wife. She gave up on words. She went to the living room and played cassettes. The stays at the beach, at the later hours, when it was quieter and you could hear the nature speak. Or whenever she tried to cook a new meal, she’d record our reactions. She’d save something like playing in a fort with our daughter, telling her fables and fairy tales to last. Maybe it was humanity for her, but I think she knew it wouldn’t work. She just wanted to say goodbye.”
0:57
I sit down. The world around me is mostly empty. “I had to bury them both. It was when I couldn’t write a eulogy for my wife that I stopped trying.”
0:43
I took back the note. They’re listening. I know it. For the first time since their deaths, I’m smiling.
0:40
“You always liked the small moments. Those we kept between us. I will miss having them with you. You made 3 minutes become worth of an eternity.”
0:22
“When I knew I’d want to be with you forever, until death does us apart, I never thought I’d beg for just 3 more minutes with you. I never thought the eternities you made would be eternities without you. I just wish I could’ve said-“
3:00 | 2022-05-22T14:36:09 | 2022-05-22T11:45:24 | 33 | 20 |
[WP] You’re an astronaut exploring a nearby planet that could harbor life, and to your delight, you find what seems to be an intelligent alien. However, they seem scared. To your surprise, the alien yells into a communication device “CODE RED! CODE RED! A HUMAN HAS ESCAPED EARTH!” | There are few things one just can't prepare themselves for. In this case, it's the alien running in circles like a panicked toddler after one of us touched down on what is apparently one of their planets.
It wasn't like anyone expected them to be there. Unexplored planets could possibly have signs of life. It actively running from you and speaking in a translator in a language similar to your own is the real anomaly.
"THE HUMANS ARE HERE! OH GODS NO! SEND BACKUP!" It continued shouting. It hadn't really made any real progress on escaping howver. If anything the little guy was too busy waving his appendages and running, well, rolling away from the astronaut. It didn't really have legs. Clearly it had a mouth? Where else was the voice coming from.
Camila shook her head in an attempt to ignore that thought. She didn't want to know. The point was, intelligent life had been found here. She made sure her suit recorded the whole thing.
"This is Camila. Can... can all of you see this too? Francis?"
"Should we be worried?" Francis asked over the growing commotion in the ship.
"It's kinda sad. He keeps trying to get away from me." She said as she began cautiously walking after the alien. The gravity was a bit lighter than calculations first measured. So she found herself occasionally having to right herself slowly to climb over obstacles in here way.
"That thing might be dangerous." Francis warned her.
"It's still freaking out." She advised.
"THIS IS OFFICER NIMA! REQUESTING EVACUATION! I AM BEING PURSUED!!"
To her and the crew's alarm, the sticky ball waddled up a rock surface Camila herself found near impossible to climb. She stopped and watched as it found a rock that jutted out, stuck to it, and heard it scream as the brittle rock broke away. Although the gravity wasn't bad for her, it seemed like Nima fared worse.
The creature bounced off several rocks before landing basically at her feet.
"Um. Hello?" Camila asked, trying her best to kneel a little. To her growing concern, Nima (was it?) didn't seem to be breathing. She poked the thing's suit in hopes the thing would maybe respond. Of course everyone back on the ship reacted harshly. They didn't know what it was capable of.
Camila perhaps out of concern, squished the thing with her hand slightly again to see if it did anything.
"Ow." The ball reacted.
"Oh good. You're alive." She greeted again.
Of course the ball jolted back to trying to flee before Camila scooped it up and looked at it. And then at the spaceship now looming above.
*"This is the expeditionary vessel Tebogo. Release your captive or we will be forced to fire."* an announcement rang.
Camila set Nima down and float stepped her way away from the little creature.
"Is that better?" She asked the ship.
No answer came. The little ball was sucked upward, the lights above went out and the ship disappeared.
And she was alone again.
"Camila, come in. What happened?"
"We're not alone? But I think they hate us. Just a little."
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | “Wait!” Brian shouted as the Alien turned and ran. The Alien, very much like a human only long and blue, scrambled up a dusty red hill beside them. Quickly, he disappeared over the top, still screaming about a ‘code red’. Standing, bemused on a foreign planet, Brain went through the protocols all astronauts were forced to learn.
“Guess I have no choice,” Brian muttered to himself, picking up his helmet and tucking it under his arm. A few rocks tumbled down the hill as Brian ascended. The black sky above showed no stars, only the infinite of space. By the time, he reached the top of the hill, Brian was panting hard. Even still, what he saw took his breath away.
“A village,” he whispered, as his eyes scan the landscape below. At least two dozen rocky red huts were scattered in the rocky valley. A natural red rock wall surrounded the village, only stopping at the bottom of the hill he stood on. As he squinted, trying to make out more details, he heard a collection of screams from the closest rock hut.
“A human!” a voice shouted out. “Exvil was right. A humans escape Earth!” A group of five or so Aliens, stood staring at Brian, their eyes wide with fear.
“Yes!” Brian shouted back, trying not to show how out of breath he still was. “I’m a human from Earth. I come in peace.” Slowly, he started to stumble his way down the hill, his white boots now covered in the foreign planet's dust. The Alien’s screamed once more. With a flash of blue, they had all shoved their way inside the closest hut.
“Christ,” Brian groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t they know what peace is?”
Sighing, he knock on what seemed to be the door to the hut and waited. Inside he could hear shuffling. A bump here and there with hushed whispers. Finally, one cleared their throat and shouted through the door.
“Human!” the voice came. “Leave us now. We wish you no harm but trust in the fact that we will defend ourselves should it come to that!” *Harm? What kind of meetings with humans have they had before?*
“I’m not here to harm you,” Brian shouted, resting his sweat-soaked forehead on the cool rok. More hushed whispers came from inside.
“We don’t care. Leave us or we’ll take desperate measures!” the same voice replied.
“Desperate measures?” Brian questioned. “What do you mean?” Suddenly the door opened and Brian ducked just in time to avoid being stabbed by a spear.
“Get him, Axzil!” one shouted. Brian backed up as the Alien, Axzil, stepped out of the hut, spear in hand.
“I…I…I…” Brian wanted to explain further but couldn’t. His brain couldn’t move his legs anymore and his voice was caught in his throat. Axzil stood at least two feet taller than Brian. The spear in his hand was around the same size as Brian and seemed to be made out of the same red rock as everything else on this planet.
“Enough,” Axzil snapped, jabbing once more with his spear. This time, however, Brian couldn’t avoid it. The stone ripped through his suit, slicing open Brian’s leg. The blood flowed down to his boot, soaking his feet. *Jesus Christ!* Another jab came, though Brian dived out of the way. A cloud of dust leapt up and caught in his throat as he landed on the rock but he ignored it all.
“Kill him,” another alien shouted, their heads barely peaking out of the hut. “Kill him, Axzil!” The Alien, stabbed at Brian when he was on the ground, only for the human to roll away. Brian jumped to his feet as Axzil threw himself wildly at the human, his long blue face a mix of rage and fear.
As he dodge another spear thrust, Brian turned sideway. Using two hands he grabbed the top of the spear, pulling it from the Alien’s grasp. In one swing, the spear came around and Brian drove it into the Alien’s neck. *Oh Christ, now I’ve done it.* Slowly, he pulled the weapon out, watching as black blood pumped from the Alien, now on his knees staring up at his killer. *Who had come in peace.*
At last, Axzil fell to the ground, motionless. Brian looked up as the other Alien’s closed the hut door once more. Shaking his head, he wondered what he had done so wrong. | 2022-07-12T07:35:45 | 2022-07-12T05:32:06 | 260 | 119 |
[WP] A dragon has set up its new territory, only to be met by a couple of people from the nearby villagers offering it a human sacrifice as to spare them from its wrath. The dragon literally just wants to vibe in this remote part of the kingdom. | *Part One of Two*
“Oh great dragon,” the bearded old man yelled up at the newly-dug hollow, “We offer you this virgin sacrifice, that you may leave our village in peace!”
“I’m not a virgin!” the intended sacrifice shrieked, kicking and biting at her captors. “Let me go, you inbred bumpkins!”
The old man winced, shooting a deadly glare at the woman while gesturing angrily at the men who were struggling to tie her to the post they’d stuck into the ground. “Silence the wench before she ruins everything!”
“Who are you calling wench, you decrepit old– mmmph!”
One of the men got a gag on her, swearing as he nearly lost a finger to her teeth for the trouble.
“I say again, great dragon, this *virgin* sacrifice, of supple flesh and high spirit, we offer in your honour! Please accept, and leave our village in peace!”
The ground shook as a long, drawn-out groan rumbled down from the hollow above. The sacrifice stared up at it, wide-eyed, while the men stumbled backwards, leaving their leader standing alone beside the post.
A large reptilian head emerged from within the cave, sending loose dirt tumbling down the slope. The dragon glared down at the assembled crowd, smoke drifting from its nostrils as it snorted.
“A sacrifice?” it sighed, raising a scaly eyebrow. “No. Absolutely not. I have had quite enough of such foolishness, thank you. Be off with you, I have no interest in your sacrifice *or* your village.”
Then the dragon withdrew, leaving the men scratching their heads and the sacrifice sagging in her restraints with relief.
The old man was left nonplussed. If the dragon wouldn’t take her, how was he to get rid of this trouble-maker? Giving the witch to a dragon was well and good, but coming back with her in tow, the sacrifice rejected? He’d be a laughingstock!
He turned to look at her where she hung from her restraints, her legs weak from terror. She looked up to meet his eyes and pulled at the ropes that bound her meaningfully, wordlessly asking to be released.
The old man’s eyes narrowed. No, he wouldn’t be having that. He had to take back control of the situation.
“Clearly our lord dragon is not hungry for the moment!” he proclaimed. “The beast will accept our offering in due course.” He stepped forward and cupped his hands to call up the hill again. “Your sacrifice awaits your pleasure, oh great dragon!”
“What?” the loud, deep voice replied. “I thought I told you all–”
As the dragon once again emerged from its burrow, steaming with annoyance, they turned their attention to the spectacle below again – to find the poor woman they’d strung up abandoned, shrieking through her gag and tearing desperately at her restraints.
Of the men, there was absolutely no sign.
The dragon blinked. It emerged fully, rearing up onto two legs to look around, its head turning this way and that as it scanned the forest surrounding its lair.
Nothing.
“Oh for the love of–” it rumbled, settling back down with a *thump.* It turned to look at its “sacrifice”, still trying their very best to rip themselves free.
With another snort of annoyance, the dragon began walking down the slope towards her.
The woman’s eyes went wide with terror as the dragon began to approach. She redoubled her efforts, pushing at the pole with her feet as she tore at the ropes, nearly flipping herself upside-down in her desperation. The dragon approached leisurely, its tongue occasionally flicking through the air as it approached, looking at her.
As its shadow fell upon her, the woman froze, so afraid she couldn’t move any more.
The dragon leaned closer, its maw opening wide to reveal sword-length teeth, glistening with saliva.
The sacrifice closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks.
There was a deafening *crack* of splitting wood and she fell forward, her restraints abruptly severed. She gasped as she tumbled to the turf and looked up to see the dragon casually flinging the top of the post away to crash down in the forest hundreds of yards away. The woman took the opportunity to scramble to her feet and flee. She dashed pell-mell towards the treeline, breathing hard around her gag–
Then she tripped on the trailing ropes that still tied her hands.
“Careful now, little lady.”
A huge claw neatly caught her as she fell, closing around her torso and lifting her from the ground. She wriggled desperately, but she was held fast by the monstrously strong talons as the dragon lifted her to its face.
*This is it*, she thought, as that terrible maw opened before her again. *Now I’m lunch for–*
The teeth closed on the ropes, neatly tearing through the thick cords like knives through warm butter.
“There. Much better, don’t you think?”
The sacrifice boggled, dumbfounded, at the gigantic head as it inspected her, its warm breath tousling her hair as it breathed. The smooth scales glistened in the noonday sun, and the dragon’s huge eyes twinkled as it looked at her.
“You can take that cloth from your mouth if you wish,” it rumbled, amused. “I cannot imagine it being comfortable.”
The woman jumped, then reached to do just that, throwing the soaked, less-than-clean cloth away. “Uh,” she croaked, “did you get rid of the ropes to make me taste better, great dragon?”
The dragon snorted and shook its head. “Sandstone, no, I want nothing to do with eating humans, virgins or not, thank you very much! I know where that ends. You eat one, then another, so on and so forth, then some adventurer hears of a podunk village offering their young women to the local dragon for supper and before you know it they’ve gathered all their friends to slay you and loot your home!” The dragon thumped their tail and rustled its wings. “No, I came out here to get away from all that rot. To live in peace, bask in the sun, perhaps find myself a fine male and have some hatchlings. I did not even know there was a village nearby when I dug my burrow!”
“So…” the woman ventured, beginning to hope, “I’m free to go? You can put me down?”
“Oh, certainly, though I do believe introductions are in order at this point, since it does appear we are to be neighbours. I am Kamacite. What may I call you, little one?”
“Oh! I’m Falina, Falina Gloomwood!” she grabbed one of Kamacite’s talons and shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Kamacite! And thank you very much for not eating me!”
“Don’t mention it, Falina! Humans don’t taste particularly good anyway.” She set Falina down gently, then stretched. “Do you wish me to return you to your village, Falina?”
Falina, somewhat disconcerted by the statement, shook herself and scowled. “I’d rather not go back there, thank you, but I do need to go past my hut and grab my stuff before they get the idea to burn it down. And I should say goodbye to Linda…”
“Burn down your hut? Were you *that* disliked in your home village?”
“No, only by the elder – that walking corpse you heard do all the shouting before. He caught me and Linda in her bed and decided I was a witch who’d put a spell on her! That’s why he picked me to be your sacrifice!”
Kamacite tilted her head. “Did you put a spell on her? *Are* you a witch?”
“No! Yes! Both! Gah!” Falina threw her hands in the air. “I *am* a witch, it’s a respectable profession, but *no*, I didn’t put a spell on Linda, we just happened to love each other!”
“Ah, Linda is your mate! How delightful!” Kamacite bobbed her head. “Then we must go get her, of course!”
Falina blinked. “How?”
“Oh, I can think of a way…”
*End of Part One* | "You mean... each of you has territory among humans as well as your homes up here?"
"That's right, Greg" Jurn says. "You think it would be fun just hiding up here all the time? You're actually known as 'the dragon that adopted a human', after Prie, who's territory that actually was, told us about you two. You know that she's the one who vouched for Alicia to stay, right? The elders were going to dismiss your pleas, Alicia, but Prie made it clear to them that whenever Greg freaks out, you're the one to calm him down. Prie stopped treating it as her own territory, but would still fly by from time to time. She said that separating you two would be the end of the Dragon Homeland!"
Greg lowers his head in embarrassment. "Come on, Jurn" I say, "cut him some slack!"
Jurn grins. "I'm sorry, Greg, we all know about your past... speaking of, territories are also where mothers raise their dragons until they're mature enough to be in the Dragon Homeland."
Greg perks up. "I remember where my mother's nest was. Has that territory been re-claimed?"
Jurn shakes his head. "None of us were sure it was ok. The dragon elders themselves said that we should not touch it. But she was *your* mother, there shouldn't be a problem for you."
Greg gives his thanks and we set off for the territory. After a while, Greg's eyes widen. "We're here" he says quietly, as he glides to a cliff. I have a look - remnants of a nest, a huge boulder having crushed it. Purple scales are littered everywhere. I can feel Greg getting tense. I rub his neck, but it's not enough; he's in confusion and distress. He breathes a large fire at the sky, as he cries out "MUM!" Then the tears start. "Alicia, I..."
"Don't apologise" I say quickly. "This... must be upsetting for you." Greg nods his head and goes to look for somewhere to set up. We find a nice field not too far from the nearby village.
"I know those symbols" I say, pointing to a picture on an archway leading to the village. "I've heard about them. We must be on the outskirt of the Narrgh Kingdom." I stare for a moment at the golden seed in the centre of a flower ring, when I notice someone coming up. It's a guy around my age. He looks terrified.
"Umm... Mr... dragon... sir? Plea... please don't hurt my village. You... you can just... eat me..."
Greg stands up. I'm confused for a moment, did this boy not see me? Looking at him, it doesn't appear he has, his eyes fixated purely on Greg. I hang back, hoping Greg can handle this. He begins to laugh. "Eat you? Why on earth would I do such a thing? Your village has no need to fear me. I am Greg, and this-" he pulls his arm forward slightly, tugging my leash a little, so I walk forward. "-is Alicia. She's been my emotional support for quite a while now, helping me with my PTSD." I shyly wave at the boy, who's staring at me in shock.
"Hi. So, umm... yeah, I decided to be his 'pet' to help him with his struggles, and he's... *protective* of me. Please make sure everyone knows that the best way to anger Greg is to try to take me away from him." The boy stares at us for several moments, then nods before running off.
Greg sighs. "It's like we forgot why we abandoned humans in the first place..."
I giggle. "Hey, they already fear you enough to offer a sacrifice, don't they? Besides, we have somewhere to retreat to if we ever need. This isn't going to be like when we were at the city; I swear at least half the people who tried to 'rescue' me had already seen us two together in the city!"
Greg lets out a chuckle. "I suppose you're right... and the problems started with Vlardic anyway. He's gone now and we're *far* from anyone who **could** have known him. There should be no problems." I nod when I spot something - the boy seems to be coming back, with who I guess are his parents. The dad speaks.
"We... saw what just happened. When you were spotted flying overhead, our son decided to offer himself to you, and while we didn't suggest it, we were proud of his courage. We were surprised when, while standing at the entrance to the village, we saw our son running back to us. What... what he said is true? You're not here to harm us?"
Greg stares at them. "**Touch Alicia and you'll regret it.** Otherwise, I hope we can all get along." He nods at them with a smile, to which the family bows in respect, before going back to the village. Greg looks at me, then decides to step between me and the village, wrapping his body around me protectively, his head facing the village. I give him a stroke.
Suddenly, what looks like the *whole village* is coming out! There's a man at the front. He clears his throat, as Greg coils himself around me further. "Great dragon" the man begins, "it is an honour to have your presence here. Please, tell us if there's anything you need. We would greatly appreciate your protection and wisdom in return."
Greg nods. "I'm not sure I can offer much in the way of wisdom, but as long as you respect me, I'll happily keep your village safe. It would be of great help if your village could provide the two of us with food. I can shed my scales, which I will happily give you in return."
The man bows, as does everyone else. "We do not have need of your scales, great dragon, but it would be our pleasure to provide you with our resources." The whole village turns around, with the exception of a few: the boy from earlier, a few kids with their parents, and a few other people.
The kids begin 'playing with Greg'. The parents are apologetic. "Don't worry" Greg responds, "they're not causing any harm."
Next is the boy, who looks red in the face. "Umm... I... may I... see... Alicia?" Greg narrows his eyes at him, to which he backs off in response. "I... I didn't mean..."
Greg huffs. "Remember, she's mine." He nods and Greg uncoils himself enough for the boy to come over to me. I begin to hear the others ask questions about his species and travels when the boy introduces himself.
"H... hi, Alicia, I'm... I'm Patrick..." I smile and shake his hand. "Nice to meet you" I respond. "Why are you so nervous?"
Patrick gulps. "I... I don't wa... want to offend..." I giggle as I complete the sentence for him. "Offend Greg? Trust me, if you've offended him, he'll tell you before I can. You know, that was really brave what you did earlier."
Patrick appears to relax. "Thanks. I guess I read too many stories, huh?" He chuckles. "I'd do anything for my village. Once the mayor heard that Greg wished no harm, he decided he wants to make friends with Greg. After all, you can't get a much more powerful ally than a dragon."
I grin. "You're right about that! Greg terrifies *me* sometimes! But... I really want to help Greg as much as I can. He needs me. I get scared, sure, but he can't help it..." Patrick nods.
"You know, what you do is pretty brave as well." I blush. "Thank you, Patrick."
Before we can continue, Greg picks Patrick up. "Everyone else has left. I trust you'll do the same?" Patrick nods quickly. "Good. Remember, if you ever want to talk to Alicia, you'll have to go through me. Do *not* approach her without asking me first." Patrick once again nods quickly, and Greg puts him down, as he once again curls himself around me protectively. Patrick bolts for it, making Greg laugh. "Didn't mean to scare him..."
I watch him with concern. "I don't think that was necessary..." Greg looks at me.
"I had to make a statement. Anyway, the village is aware that I won't always be here, but I'll be around often. We can sleep here tonight, it's already nightfall anyway. We'll go back to the Dragon Homeland tomorrow afternoon." I nod and Greg proceeds to wrap me in his arms. I curl up against him and begin to drift off to sleep.
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This story is a part of my series, [Dragon's Pet.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x46g40/dragons_pet/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 2022-09-22T15:01:34 | 2022-09-22T12:54:14 | 78 | 30 |
[WP] "Are you sure that translation is accurate?" "Yes sir." "But we nuked them, we threw everything we have at their mothership!" "I'm afraid we've barely scratched it." "Are they being sarcastic then?" "No sir, the aliens honestly think we're the most adorable thing in the galaxy." | "What are they again?"
"They call themselves 'humans', but the Intergalactic Repository lists them as 'terrans', after the planet Terra, which they call 'Earth'."
"Terrans? I've heard of them before. Liked to throw nukes at each other, it makes our assault just now look like kids playing with toys."
"Apparently a few hundred years ago they have evolved and adapted to the increasingly radioactive environment of Terra after a nuclear war rendered 65% of the surface uninhabitable."
"Anything about their culture?"
"They're very warlike, probably even fiercer than the Belikosians. But apart fron that they have already developed a communications network - not unlike ours - thousands of years ahead of us. They call it the 'Internet'… and… here's one page from their network."
"Oh Ba'ast. Those tiny creatures look like us. Fur, a tail, and those ears."
"Yes sir. In their languages they call these creatures 'cats'."
"Translate the text of those images to me please."
"Affirmative… (beat) Sir, the texts indicate that they were once enslaved by our predecessors, and yet see the predecessors as the most adorable things in the galaxy, as what I have said about their thoughts before."
"Oh Ba'ast… they have come to exact revenge…" | The air was frigid and cold, even dressed in parkas and extra layers everyone was shivering.
Blankets and trash littered the ancient bunker, and the only noise was the clatter of the old diesel generator. A large grizzled man clambered down the ladder and addressed the small group of 15 people in a voice thick with emotion, “It has been confirmed from Radio Relay Zulu, our last ICBM was redirected from their ground command in Moscow to their air command, which we believed to be their mothership.” He paused, his breath frozen in the void before him.
A short man with long whiskers and the remnants of what had been a well cared for suit limped to the front of the group, “Out with it General, do not spare us the details.”
The general removed his hat and long greasy gray hair spilled out in tufts, “the ship remains undamaged and they’re gone, sir.” The president bowed his head, and a woman spoke up voicing what everyone hoped, but knew wasn’t true, “The aliens have left?”
The president turned to her and shook his head, “Our launch site, and our last functioning installation has been destroyed.”
The general nodded, “there’s nothing left. The last of our goddamn army is gone, and to the few humans left surviving on this earth they have been broadcasting propaganda...mocking us, sir.”
Everyone stood in stunned, yet accepting silence. Mankind was at it’s end, this was the next evolution cycle.
The ground beneath their feet quaked violently and a harsh metallic screech sounded above their heads. The remaining two military officers stationed themselves by the ladder, their rifles aimed up into the black abyss above their heads.
The president turned and faced the crowd, “We do not have much time so will everyone please kneel with me and bow your heads as we pray.” He nodded to the general who drew his sidearm, “May we meet our lord savior in the next life. And come back again in another to bring justice to these sons of bitches!”
The general and the last secret service agent with a sidearm, walked down the line pausing only to place a bullet in the back of the head of each staff member.
“Mr. President, it has been an honor.” The hammer on the old 1911 drove home the firing pin and the last of America’s existing government fell to the ground alongside his loyal staff.
He turned to his two remaining men as the metallic screeching grew louder and louder and the howling of the aliens reached their ears.
“Let’s give America one last final stand against the Forces of Extraterrestria!!!
The aliens dropped into the bunker and the stammer of two automatic weapons and reports of a single 1911 automatic pistol were the last sounds America made in the year 4099. | 2018-12-11T11:13:18 | 2018-12-11T10:37:02 | 176 | 34 |
[WP] A necromancer doesn't know that he can bring back the dead using magic, he just thinks he's a really good doctor. | Life is good. Hard work pays off. After all those hours in medical school it turns out I'm a natural prodigy when I get my hands on a patient. It all started on my second ER all nighter. Man with a surely fatal stab wound came under my care. Walked out just fine a few hours later. A miracle really, I thought we lost him for a minute there.
I've been lucky with near death patients ever since then. Zero deaths on my record actually.Everyone says my luck's bound to run out soon but I'm not so sure. There's almost a pattern to it. The patient goes under, I use the defibrillator on them and they come back. Weird part is they always seem to come back a little bit off. Coworkers say its just the way people act after facing death. This is different though. Its like they come back as a completley different person.
Screw it. I'm not worried about it, I'm raking in money. Medical school was the best decision of my life. | My methods may be slightly unusual but the results are undeniable. I have brought people back from the verge of death, sometimes back from death itself! All of this was a massive relief to me as I faked my qualifications to become a doctor. I had nothing to worry about, it didn't matter that I didn't know what that weird thing at the back of someone's mouth was as long as in the end I saved them. Usually people think it's weird that my cases always get worse before they get better but now they're just used to my method, doesn't matter that the person in A&E who was just getting stitches nearly died, because after all, they left without any scars despite the wound. Well, it didn't used to matter, until he showed up.
The good doctor appeared unnerved by my presence, of course he would be, damn necromancer, the ministry can't let people know about his kind and then he makes a Goddamned holy show of bringing back the dead. It was difficult to watch him perform the rituals, so clumsily trying to make it look like the work of an actual doctor. The dude in front of him clearly just had a bad burn and here he was sucking out his life force just to heal him. Dear Jesus, there were so many better ways to go about this. Didn't he know that when his magic wore off this "Perfectly healthy person" drops dead a few days later on the subway. It's a damn disgrace.
Oh God, oh God he's on to me, I can't help but sweat, he knows I faked my qualifications, oh God, the hospitals going to get sued to shit or something and I'll end up fired or in prison. Oops, my hand slipped, damn, I must be so transparent. His eyes seeing through my impression of an actual doctor.
Oh dear lord, he's just stabbing the body at this point with the needle.
Oh well, this looks about done, I suppose I'll let the poor chap leave now that he's all better.
So clumsy, how many humans must have figured out by now? Oh God it makes me sick.
'Excuse me sir, may I check something', why was the agent speaking to the patient? Did I make some rookie mistake. 'Alright, you may go'. Perhaps he didn't find the mistake he was looking for. 'He didn't have a pulse.' I let out a sigh of relief, 'Aw, yeah, thought that was a bit strange'. Perhaps he doesn't know just yet that I faked my qualifications. | 2020-06-21T11:48:57 | 2020-06-21T10:59:16 | 144 | 83 |
[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you. | *So she was right after all.*
*It's all cyclical.*
I smiled in regret as I shoved my hands in my pockets and shuffled toward him- the young boy sitting on the park bench, head buried in his Gameboy. I led with my cane and used it as a pivot to sit down next to him. My knees popped as they always did when I bent them, loud enough to draw the boy's attention away from his screen. His hair still had a lot of blonde in it- it would darken with age to a deep brown, and then he'd grow it out once he started skateboarding.
"Hey, there," I croaked before coughing once to clear my throat.
"Hey," he said in a disinterested tone.
"What are you playing?"
"Pokemon."
His answers were short. I could tell by the screen he was fighting a gym leader, and decided to let him finish before continuing.
"You won," I said with a smile.
"I always win," he said apathetically before sipping on his caprisun.
I looked around at the beauty of the park for a moment before pulling a bag from my pocket. My old hands trembled as I undid the ziploc and reached for the duckfeed within.
"That's such an old man thing to do," he laughed.
I smiled, "You'd be amazed the things you do when you truly miss someone..."
He lowered his game and watched as I spread the feed. Ducks raced from the pond up the grassy knoll and over to the bench where they quickly wolfed down the feed.
"You miss somebody?" He asked innocently. "Why don't you go see them?"
"I think I'm about to," I said as I dug back into the bag and spread more feed. He turned his eyes back toward his game and muttered, "that's good."
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye before adjusting my glasses, "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," he said quickly.
"What do you feel... is important in life?"
He shrugged his shoulders, "getting a job. Having a family."
I chuckled lightly to myself, transitioning into a cough before tossing more duck feed, "No, that's the answer you think I want to hear."
I saw him turn to me in my peripheral vision.
"Tell me, what do *you* think is important in life?"
He faced forward staring out at the pond for several seconds before saving his game and turning it off. He shoved the device into his pocket and sighed, "I want to travel the world. Far and wide."
"I see," I responded. "You should do it."
"I'm gonna," he said nonchalantly. "Soon as I make enough money."
"It'll never be enough," I shot back. "You don't want to be an old man looking back on what could have been. Take the risk. You'll find your way."
He sighed as though he were tired of listening to me.
I understood.
"When I was young," I began. "I never liked when strangers would just come up and talk to me for no reason. It's funny how as you get older... You'd do anything for someone just to listen..."
"I don't think I'm gonna be old for a long time," he said in his monotone way as he watched the ducks.
"It happens fast," I said just above a whisper. "It happens when you're not looking. When that Wednesday you don't remember disappears..."
"Huh?"
"Do me a favor, kid..." I turned and smiled at him, "hug your dad. Make sure he knows he's your hero."
He cocked his head, "What?"
I stood up and emptied the remaining contents of the bag before leaning forward on my cane. "Life isn't a cartoon. You're not the main character."
"I know that!" He said in an insulted tone.
"Your body has limits. Listen to them."
He stayed quiet as I watched the water shimmer on the lake. I turned to see him but he was gone. When my eyes returned to the lake, there was a man in white standing in the middle. I dropped my cane to the ground and shuffled toward the water.
The people standing behind him.
I knew all of them.
- - -
r/a15MinuteMythos | Heavens, that child is ugly. Look at those crooked teeth and that goofy grin. I wonder if the circus has lost one of its acts?
How I loved people watching. The simple activity of just sitting on a bench, judging anyone unfortunate enough to pass. I had to stifle my laugh, not wanting anyone to think I was a mad old man. That necklace he is wearing too, what sort of child in this day and age wears a Phantom man necklace. That show was old even in my day. I only ever had a necklace like that because of my dad. Wait, that can’t be possible, there’s no way. Is that me?
It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but everything about him just reminded me of myself. Before I could even process what I was doing, I stood up from the bench, slowly approaching the young child, trying to look as friendly as I could.
“Evening, that’s a nice Phantom man necklace you have there. Where did you find such a fascinating item?” I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of conversation to engage the child in, trying my best to get the answers I needed. Something about this giving me a bizarre sense of déjà vu.
“Of course, you would know about that dumb show. Yeah, my dad gave it to me. He says that Phantom man is the sort of person who young people should look up to, I say he’s lame.” The boy only gave the necklace a small slap, trying to make his opinion of it clear to me.
“You still wear it, though? You can’t think Phantom man is that lame if you wear his necklace.” I couldn’t believe this child was me. Was I always so rude?
I knew the true reason I wore the necklace. I cared little about Phantom man, but I loved my parents dearly. A gift from my father was something I would treasure. Whenever I wore that necklace, I wasn’t thinking of Phantom man; I was thinking of my father, thinking he was the hero sitting at the end of the chain.
“Because its expensive. Dad says its one of his rarest items and he gave it to me. That’s how much he loves me. Mum also gave me this really cool band aid that makes cuts painless. She’s amazing.”
“She is.” I agreed, reminiscing about the pair, enjoying the nostalgic memories that popped into my mind.
The old band aid trick. It took me until I was thirteen to realize she was lying about the special band aids she had. It’s amazing how anyone else could put a bandaid on a cut and it would still hurt. Yet when she did it, the pain vanished. Guess that’s the power of a mother’s love.
“Yep, my parents are the best.” The conversation appeared to have ended, the younger me turning to look at a nearby shop window. I couldn’t waste this chance. I had to pass some fatherly advice onto myself.
“Life isn’t always going to be easy. You will go through a period where you wonder if life’s even worth living anymore. Then Mom and dad will die, and it will break whatever’s left of your heart. The first period of your life may seem bad, but I promise it gets better. You meet a woman that loves you for who you are, accepts your imperfections and sparks your love of art.” I felt the need to aid myself through my future hardships, hoping that maybe I might ease my suffering a little during it.
“Did you say something, old man? I was looking at the cakes in that shop. I wonder if they have any for two dollars?” What a brat. I just gave him the best advice of his life and he ignored it, just like I did that time.
Then it hit me. This was the Déjà vu. I had this conversation before, just from the opposite side. How’s that even possible? I was so caught up in the bizarreness of it all that I didn’t question how this could happen. Was it time travel? No, I had done nothing that could lead to me travelling back in time. Was this a simulation? That had to be it.
“Listen to me. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to find a solution. I think we might be stuck in some sort of simulation. Maybe a copy lives until the age of seventy-seven before fading away to make space for the new copy. But that makes little sense. Why would someone be watching my life? What purpose would this all serve?” My chest felt heavy, the world around me flickering with various colours. What happens after I meet myself?
“Whatever you say old man.” My younger self merely pushed past me, entering the shop to look at the cakes inside. Once he passed through the door, it vanished, leaving me standing outside, forced to bang on the window.
“Please, I don’t know what’s happening, but we can’t keep doing this. We need to break the cycle, listen to me.” I dug my hand into my shirt, pulling out the Phantom man necklace, pressing it against the glass. “We are the same person. Break the cycle.”
No matter how much noise I made, he just ignored me. When I looked at the once busy street, I spotted no one. Only the same flickering colours. The colours continued to flicker for a few more moments before slowly darkening around me, ready to envelop me in its embrace. I took one last look at my Phantom man figure, giving it a kiss before the darkness hit me.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-07-08T08:20:49 | 2021-07-08T06:43:07 | 215 | 54 |
[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing. | u/catfeeder13throwaway
TL;DR: AITA for feeding my cat?
I’ve had my cat, Roxy, for around 12 years now, and am very in tune with her diet requirements. It gets a little expensive at time, because she’s very demanding and particular with her food and requires certain cuts of meat. Yes, I may have spoiler her, but I’m single [M42] and doing pretty well for myself. (Not to brag, you won’t recognize my face, but you’ll know what I do for a living.)
So anyway, I was just acquiring some food for my cat in a new city. Apparently, this new place doesn’t quite bend to my will, so there was a lot of resistance when I tried to get food for my cat. A lot of people were screaming at me, and there were even some costumed heroes flying out of the sky to stop me. I’m just getting food for Roxy, making sure she’s well-fed. AITA?
EDIT 1: A lot of people are saying there aren’t enough details in the story. The heroes beat me up really badly. I’m not in the hospital. I’m not at liberty to discuss why I can’t be there. But I’m healing up in my home base.
EDIT 2: Stop posting the news clip that seems to corroborate my story. It’s extremely biased. HNN is known to be biased to anybody wearing a colourful costume. I strongly refute that my actions count as “terrorism” and “villainy.”
EDIT 3: Roxy is doing OK, thank you for those asking. I did secure some food for her. She’s eating it right now, in fact.
EDIT 4: Yes, Roxy’s a lion. A lion is a cat. I will not accept any alternatives.
EDIT 5: I don’t understand you guys. The food is worthless. They are thrown in the alleys and dumpsters, abandoned by society. Why is it a problem that I pluck them up and feed them to my cats? If I’m fine with it, why does the law about old food has to come into play?
EDIT 6: Yes, Roxy likes the legs the most. She likes chewing on the tough bones afterwards.
EDIT 7: Nobody cares about them. Call their families. Oops? They don’t have families? Yes, that’s what I thought.
EDIT 8: I’ve decided that I no longer care about your opinions. You guys are TAs here. No thanks, and good bye.
EDIT 9: To the person trying to track my IP address through this, good luck. You are pathetic. Your skills are not worth mentioning.
EDIT 10: To the people trying to track my IP address through this, you need to do better. Assholes.
EDIT 11: It’s not fair. Ganging up on me and poor old Roxy. It’s really not fair. The heroes do it. You guys do it. While I’m at it, I’ll make sure I tear your limbs apart, and feed them to
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r/dexdrafts | AITA for attempting a coup?
By u/ TheRealDrMyceliumYesThatOne
Edit 2: You people understand nothing.
-0-0-
Edit: I would like to point out that almost everyone who has disagreed with me has thus far not actually disagreed with my rationale, only with my choice of method.
I believe that is called "tone policing", and I will not be subject to it.
-0-0-
Okay so. I'm writing this while awaiting trial, so it is not really a question of "am I the asshole". I am trying to sort out what kind of response I am likely to get from the jury, and I figured this was as good a place as any.
On the 13th of May of this year, I, the great Dr. Mycelium (yes, my rightful username was taken from me by some two-bit mycology MA student) grew fungal nets between all the doors and frames at the White House, Capitol Building, Pentagon, and [here] is a list of other relevant political targets I hit.
At the same time, I kidnapped all the hosts of Fox News, and with my henchmen put on my manifesto in which I outlined the various problems of our society, and my proposed solutions.
Present problems in our society include:
- Lack of accountability on the part of politicians
- Massive wealth and income inequality
- Insufficient support for our most vulnerable populations, including of course racial and gender minorities but more importantly the young, the infirm , the elderly, and all of the demographics that are less than maximally profitable under our current economic conditions
- insufficient resource allocation to the problem of climate change, which includes incoming agricultural collapse so massive it will lead to mass death
- inefficiencies in the decision-making process which lead to long, drawn-out periods of stagnation and regress.
These problems lead to a variety of second-order problems, such as the destruction of our social fabric as people become distracted by details of identity from the real villains, namely the political class. They lead to countless deaths, destruction of property, economic disarray, and environmental damage.
They are also all fairly easy to solve. The correct answer (and the one I proposed) is to simply trap all of the relevant politicians that I can at a given time, expose them to mind-controlling fungal spores, and force them to make the necessary political decisions that will propel the nation forward into a bright future, where our fresh water is clean, our oceans are thriving, our trees and old growth forests are allowed to continue to allow us to breathe, our financial incentives are aligned to account for the dignity of every person, and every person who has stood in the way of this has been summarily executed to ensure they do not pose a threat to this new world order.
I would be interim president, until such a time as we had captured enough carbon to ensure we remain below 300ppm for the foreseeable future. I would also of course, step down once the mandate was made and allow a democratically elected leader to take over, provided I could act as a check and execute any who would threaten the plan.
I provided a variety of infographics outlining the benefits of all of my proposed policies, as well as the many ironic ways in which I would execute the politicians responsible for our ongoing ecocide.
I would like to point out that I was running *live polling* the whole time and over 65% of the audience was in favour of my takeover, which should be doubly impressive considering how radically distant my ideology is to the average viewer of Fox News. Clearly, my message was resonating with people.
I was eventually captured by Red Eagle and his buddies, though not before engulfing the entirety of the Fox building in carbon-sequestering edible mushrooms. What good is a massive propaganda machine if it will not alert people to the real needs we are facing today?
Anyhow, obviously the system is corrupt, and obviously I would be a much better steward of the government than the lunatics currently in place that corporations utilize like gut flora. But I must be able to defend myself against the arguments that will be posed in court (my lawyer is obviously underpaid, overworked, and understands nothing of my plight) so I would appreciate a sincere attempt at establishing why I am "the asshole" while I was saving the world from its own cancerous corruption only to be thwarted by corporately-backed "superhero" thugs who could offer me no meaningful opposition in the free marketplace of ideas. | 2022-05-01T12:42:48 | 2022-05-01T10:54:17 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] You were cursed to “die the next time the sun sets on you”. That was 10 years ago. You’ve been racing the sun ever since. | It’s difficult to fall asleep with the sun in your eyes. Unfortunately, I’ve not had the luxury of doing otherwise for a decade.
If I dug into the deep recesses of my mind, I might remember how the night sky looked, with its stars bright like little gems. How the cool air felt against my skin, little breezes coming and going like fickle children. And oh, the blessed closing of my eyelids into the comforting embrace of complete darkness, not seeing pinpricks of light trying to squeeze its way through.
I jolted awake. Disorienting, but good. I was awake, at least, though my body screamed in agony, and my mind resigned itself to blasted fate. I gingerly moved my arm, and felt the cries of exhausted muscle trying to move.
Tired. So, so tired, so much so that it occupied every waking moment, every conscious thought and subconscious conviction, every step walked and every word spoken. But underneath it all, there was a heart willing to live, a wilting—but still alive—defiance against the damned curse that told me that I would die the next time the sun sets on me.
And so, I continued to trudge. I slept fitfully in maglev trains, zooming past the world at supersonic speeds. It afforded me precious winks of slumber, which helped with not messing up the spell that get me halfway across the world again.
There was no time to sleep here. Ingredients had to be procured to create another teleportation spell immediately. There was once where the sky was barely pink before I finally found a mandrake and completed the spell. I swore I felt the Reaper standing behind me, scythe in hand, ready to harvest my soul where I stood.
Ten years. A decade spent running from the night, keeping my meagre life alive.
Ten years. Spent running around at the whims and conditions of my curse.
Ten years. Alive, but not living.
I held the mandrake root in my hand, twirling it about as I looked at my close friend, the sun. I watched for hours as it moved across the sky, a cosmic god looking upon the speck of dust that was Earth, and its little mites crawling upon the surface.
Sighing, I put the mandrake back in its spot, where I had so desperately dug around just a few hours ago. I laid onto grass that tickled my neck, and watched the sun slowly going down, throwing a blazing tapestry of fiery orange and gleaming pink, softly kissing the lazy clouds floating along.
The sun sunk deeper, turning into a giant red yolk. The sky darkened slightly, and I could make out the outline of the crescent moon hanging, a sight unseen in a decade for me.
The last embers of the colossal red coal sparked, leaving nothing but burnt grey and ashy black in its wake. And oh, were the stars beautiful.
I closed my eye. Pure darkness, without the intrusiveness of the sun’s unabating rays.
I smiled. This was life.
---
r/dexdrafts | I'm tired.
10 years on the run. A race to the death, but only one of us can die. No stopping, no respite, just running. You can only *imagine* how exhausting it is, to never be able to truly rest, to sleep in your own bed, or to settle down and meet someone you like - a one-night stand is all you can hope for thought 'night' isn't exactly accurate when you're living in perpetual daylight.
It's ironic that the source of my curse - the gold I have inherited from my eccentric grandfather - is the only thing that allows me to persist. The wealth it provides pays for the never-ending stream of airplane tickets and the occasional hotel room when I have a few hours to spare. I wear the best-tailored suits, eat the highest quality food, ride first-class every single day and I'd give it all up if I could only... **stop**.
Which brings me here, to this beach. I once met a girl here, back when I was... normal. Her name was Lily. She was nice - her hair was blacker than the night matched with her eyes, as bright as the stars themselves. Would've been interesting to see if we could've become a thing, but I suppose I'll never know. It doesn't matter. The days here are long, the breeze warm and gentle. And if you're reading this note, well, you understand why I chose this place.
It's getting late, but I'm too tired to get up. I think I'll just sit here a while longer.
It's been too long since I've seen the sunset.
I wonder what it will look like. | 2022-02-02T09:51:50 | 2022-02-02T09:28:29 | 724 | 246 |
[WP] Death has been on holiday since the start of 2016. You're his right hand, the Reaper in charge whenever he's gone. He's scheduled to be back in a weeks time, and you're panicking on how to explain what you've done this year. | The Grim Reaper entered the room, a floral wreath around his neck and the smell of piña-coladas wafting from his bones. He just came back from his semi millennial vacation, which he'd been waiting years for. Mr. Death had planned to visit Honolulu ever since that mass shark-attack during the annual surf championship. The warm sands and beautiful ocean struck a chord with the shadowy killer, so he made plans. He loved his vacation; the resort staff were incredibly helpful and polite, the Ocean Bar gave him free piña coladas, and there were no sharks to make him do work. Luckily, he came back just in time to see his apprentice do the deadly job.
"So, James, who have you killed?" The Reaper asked, donning his black robes once more.
"About 55 million, sir."
"Anyone famous?"
"Well... there are a few...."
"Come on, tell me."
"Fidel Castro."
"Good, he was on my list."
"Zsa Zsa Gabor."
"She was pushing 99, wasn't she? Yep, definitely on the list."
"Alan Rickman."
"What?"
"Alan Rickman, sir."
"Wha-- why? How?"
"Pancreatic cancer."
"You gave him pancreatic cancer? That's painful! He was a great guy! Who else did you kill?" The Reaper asked, tapping his foot.
"Prince."
"The man of Purple Rain? When and how?"
"April 14th, drug overdose."
"What drug?"
"Prescription."
"Really, James?"
"Yea..."
"Anyone else?"
"Cassius Clay, aka Muhammed Ali."
"The Greatest? How?"
"Err... Parkinsons and septic shock, sir."
"That's horrible! He was fast as a hurricane, tough as a brick. He was so bad he makes medicine sick! Is that all of them?" The Reaper said, staring into the soul of his apprentice.
"Err... many more..."
"Tell me."
"George Michael."
"Eh. Wham! wasn't really a good band."
"Doris Roberts."
"Oh, come on, James! She was a nice old woman who baked cakes for the neighborhood kids! How did you kill her-- and please don't say a stroke."
"Uh..."
"Oh! That's sadistic, James! Anyone else?!"
"You don't want to know."
"Yes, I do."
"Err..."
"SPIT IT OUT!" Grim shouted, fire coming out of his every orifice.
"Carrie Fisher."
"Great. Just great. How?!"
"She drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra."
*****
It's what she would have wanted. ^^/r/Picklestasteg00d. | Lightning strikes outside Death's lair. Although time was countless in the great beyond, by a mortal's sense it was quite late in the evening.
Within the High Grim Reaper's personal quarters, the remnants of quite a festive evening took place. On an antique Victoria Gramophone, Angel of the Morning played in a baroque rendition played. A demon smoked a most interesting weed on a couch in a corner, laughing to himself.
I lay underneath a pile of robes, recovering from one bender of a run. His highness, I mused, would be pleased of my work. I thought the count for musical souls was a little high, but it is not mine to reason why.
Sudden a commotion was heard. A minion was frantically searching the room. I sat up, removing the robes from me. "Igor, what is it?"
"There you are, me lord!" said Igor, in his customary lisp. "His Highness is on his way back from his travels..."
"Alright, help me organize the room," I say, unable to hide my annoyance.
"But one thing, me lord...." Igor was quite pensive.
"Oh what now?"
"That list of musicians you were working off of..."
"...."
"It was the High Reaper's list for his next 'Play List', not 'Reap List'....."
| 2016-12-27T18:38:09 | 2016-12-27T16:18:56 | 1,563 | 40 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The human smiled playfully. "So if I understand you correctly. You will give us this FTL technology in exchange for our aid. All you ask of us is to cleanse your world of this Ashvell species, and remove this substance from your waters?"
"That is all," I said with a hoarse voice. We hadn't done much research on these creatures. All we knew was that they had yet to fly further than their own moon and that they may be our salvation. I stepped back as the human walked by me. He walked carelessly, holding the vial that contained the substance that could destroy my species.
Water. Yes, we thought it was water. The clear liquid that granted our planet the ability to sustain life. The Ashvell gave it to us as a simple offering, one of peace and prosperity. We had no reason to suspect the Ashvell of foul play. Would you? We had been on neighboring planets for thousands of years.
Cast Ozon had started to puke green bile moments after he had swallowed the substance. His elongated neck had melted within mere seconds. Our dear leader had died whilst still holding onto the glass. Before anyone had been able to react, the Ashvell had started their offense. Enormous cannons had sprayed our lands, our homes and our people with the poisonous substance. We thought it was merely water. The Ashvell knew it was not.
"You should not keep this substance in an unprotected vial," I said. Humans in white coats eyed me as I followed the human leader up a flight of stairs.
We entered what I assumed to be a living space. Why else would there be a sleeping platform in the center of the room? The human sat down and placed his legs on the sleeping platform, leaning backwards.
"What is your answer? We haven't much time! The Ashvell kill our younglings by the hundreds for every second I do not return."
"Has the United Nations made a decision?" The human spoke to the mirrored wall on the other side of room.
A face appeared on the wall. The human in the wall cocked an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on me. "You say that this liquid is poisonous to your species?"
A shiver ran down my spine. "Yes, it is. None of the species in our solar system are able to survive direct contact with this substance. We beg of you, please save us."
"And simply attaching the technology you wish to donate to us will enable faster than light travel for the vehicle it is applied to?"
"Yes."
The face disappeared and I could once again see my own reflection in the mirror. I turned to the human beside me. He was sniffing the substance, twirling the vial around as he did.
Then he drank it.
I stood there in disbelief. The human drank the most poisonous substance known to my people. I jumped back, afraid that his body would explode. A mere drop still in his throat could splash out at any second. A mere drop was enough to kill me outright.
Nothing happened.
The human smacked his lips and winked at me. "Twelve percent."
Behind me, I heard the oh so familiar booming of FTL-engines. The humans had accepted our offer. | Champagne pricked Ace Mcgillicutty's throat as he drained his glass and took a draw from his Cuban cigar. He eased back on the light-speed throttle and let out a Rebel Yell.
"You know sometimes, Franky, it's boss to be the Air Force's top test pilot. This fucker screams."
"Sure as shit does, Ace. So the Vangalorian thingamajigs...they're like what? Real space men? Little Martian men?"
Ace ran a comb through his slick pompadour and gave a wink to himself in the reflection of the glass cockpit.
"You got it, Daddy-O. Ugly little shits. They have elephant schnozes and these jelly eyes. Gross as all hell if you ask me. I had to shake one of their...fuck man..I don't even know what to call it....anyway they told us all about how these real bad cats are fuckin' up their shit, man."
"That's real lousy, Ace."
"Yeah, pal. Ike personally wanted me there so they could see all my chest candy and they could see the face of the guys whose gonna get their ass out of the fire."
Ace took another pull from his stogie and put his black boots on the console and crossed them.
"So yeah man - that's about that. But fuck that noise, baby. We ain't gonna get involved in their shit. We're gonna play them like a fiddle."
"You don't say?"
"Hell yeah, man. Faster than light is nice, baby, but those mean mother fuckers are the ones we need to team up with. You know how unstoppable we'll be once we get their laser technology? We're gonna be kings, baby. Kings!"
"Right on, daddy-o. Right on." | 2014-12-26T12:23:02 | 2014-12-26T10:41:23 | 70 | 14 |
[WP] Aliens came to Earth and call us the "most advanced species", the "final form of evolution". Not because of technology, but because we are the only species in universe that can make fun about almost everything. | Three aliens were given the task to study the human race, to do this they decided to disguise as humans and just walk the streets trying to blend in. During the day they noticed many people really focused in themselves rushing into the crowded streets while being nicely dress, they figured out it must be some type of responsability humans had.
After some hours of walking, the aliens noticed that a lot of people started leaving the offices and went straight into some bars so the outer space creatures entered into one of this places called "Stand up classic". At first, they were quite confused to see tables and people sitting on chairs as it clearly said "Stand up" but they ended up sitting aswell just to not caught the attention of the crowd.
A guy goes into the scenario takes the mic and starts testing it, meanwhile the waiter went to our friends table and asked them what did they want to eat, confused they just pointed at other's man food and said "That one" and one of the three took the chance and asked:
"Why is there a man in that scenario"
"Its the stand up artist thats perfoming today!"
"Oh! Thats why hes standing up!"
The waiter laughed and that completely puzzled the aliens.
"Why was she laughing" Said Alien 1
"Why do they have a show about someone standing up" Said Alien 2
"What a weird specie" Said Alien 3
The show started and the performer broke the ice with some jokes:
"Hey you (pointing at a guy in some table) thats a nice tie"
"Thanks man, my wife got it for me" Replied the man
"Your wife? Damn, she seemed like a girl with good taste"
The whole place bursted in laughter.
"Do you guys know why doesn't american english use a "U" in words like color and flavor" Continued the performer
The aliens prepared to take notes as this seemed like an important thing in our language.
"Because fuck U thats why"
The whole place exploded in laughter while our outer space friends were completely perplexed and mesmerized at the same time, they couldnt understand how the humans had this amazing sense of humor, it was so amazed to them that they couldnt handle their own emotions.
One of the aliens stood up, went to the scenario, took the microphone and said:
"Hello human friends, I am Hexeer II, son of Kizeser from Ukentez. We have been traveling the space, we met many civilizations and you are by far the most advanced species in the whole universe, your levels of sarcasm and sense of humor are something not even Jukiz, the best sci-fi writer of Ukentez could have imagined"
"Hello Hexeer I am Carlos, also known as the performer, let me ask you something, did your mom dressed you or everyone dress like shit in your planet"
The whole crowd again started laughing out loud. The three aliens were completely in awe and instantly teleported back to their planet to report back their findings leaving a light trace in the scenario.
"I am so good I even have special effects" Continued the performer.
| The aliens arrived, excited, exalted. They'd traveled so very far, so very long, just for this glorious moment.
After all these years, they'd finally be meeting the one species that just really did not give a fuck. In a universe that was nigh infinite, that was a startlingly unique occurrence.
See, sentience comes with a heavy price. Everyone just takes themselves so *seriously*. No one seems to be able to let their tentacles down, laugh at themselves a little.
"I think, therefore I am *fucking insufferable*," right?
The aliens, teenagers back on their home planet, had never been so exhilarated. Not only were they finally meeting the humans, but they'd been in hypersleep for 10 years.
Which meant *an extra 10 years worth of media to watch.*
They landed, as the humans all stared at their spaceship in varying states of distress.
The aliens smiled, nodding at each other. The planet was beautiful, just like they'd seen in the movies. Their new home was going to be a magical place.
They donned their space suits and walked out into the open. The humans, predictably, all ran away; all save for one. One was brave enough to walk up right to them.
And thus, they started to speak with a human for the very first time.
*****
Earth was rapidly becoming a pale blue dot. The aliens still hadn't spoken to each other since their conversation with the human.
The tension was palpable.
Eventually, one broke the silence, turning towards his friend with a heavy sigh.
"The fuck is a *SJW*, anyway?" | 2017-03-20T06:58:13 | 2017-03-20T05:20:21 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/) | The Sleep was supposed to be our Salvation. Overpopulation had touched every corner of the earth; famine and trash piles were simply a part of life now.
Every evening, the AI News Channel would announce the Death Tally over the city’s PA system. A pleasant robotic voice would drift through the city:
‘Death Tally: 628,420.’
‘Death Tally: 1,462,515’
She sounded oddly chipper about the whole thing, really. I didn’t like her.
The Global Protectorate had announced plans for The Sleep as a way to freeze time, basically.
While we slept, the task of undoing our damage to the planet, creating and storing more efficient food supplies, and rebuilding infrastructure would fall to each city’s specifically programmed AI. When we awoke, the world would be clean and new, ready to sustain us all again.
Honestly, given how desperate we were, they could have told us the AI would sit on its ass and twiddle its thumbs and we still would’ve gotten into the pods, just to escape our daily shitshow for 100 years.
That brings us to now. Here we are, lined up on the platform, wearing the white jumpsuits assigned to us by the GP. Metal grating lays beneath our feet as rows of pods rise to meet their new inhabitants.
Children clutch their favorite stuffed animals, parents sing them soft lullabies and help them into their pods.
I help my Emily into her chamber. Her eyes wide and somber, she’s quiet as I tuck her in. The noise of the Sleeping Arena fades away as she looks at me.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Love?”
Her voice shakes just a little as a fat tear threatens to free itself from the corner of her eye. “What if you’re not there when I wake up?”
“Now, why wouldn’t I be there? My pod is right here, right next yours.” I pat the white metal and glass tube to my left. “We’ll be neighbors, you and me. C’mon now, it’s almost my turn. Be brave just for one minute and then you’ll have the most beautiful dreams. I love you, Monkey.”
“I love you too, Mommy”
“ALL PARENTS AND GUARDIANS MUST ENTER THEIR PODS IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT: ALL PARENTS AND GUARDIANS MUST ENTER THEIR PODS IMMEDIATELY.”
“That’s my cue, Monkey” I snuggle Emily for a quick second and close her door before she can see me wipe away the tears.
Once I’m settled inside my own chamber, I allow myself to look over. The lights in her pod have dimmed, but I can see her tiny frame, still clutching her stuffed mermaid. Her eyes are closed.
As my own lights dim, the weirdly pleasant AI voice chirps in my pod. (God, not her again!)
“Hello! Hibernation will commence in 3...2...1. Pleasant dreams!”
I watch the pods around me dim one by one and realize I’m holding my breath. I exhale.
“Calm the fuck down, Nicki. It’s just a long nap” I chide myself.
Except...my lights never go off. The door is locked, the creepy voice has fallen silent and my pod is slowly being carted to storage, but I’m still awake!
What the fuck...? No. No no no! I realize what’s happening. I’m in a faulty device and nobody knows I’m awake! I begin to pound on the glass of the door, screaming.
“I’m awake! Help! Help me, for fuck’s sake! SOMEONE HELP!”
Panic hits me so hard I want to vomit, but I choke it back and scramble my hands desperately along the interior.
Thank God, the emergency release! I yank on it hard enough to be rewarded with a long gash on my finger from a part of the handle that wasn’t smoothed properly. But the door stays shut.
Looking around wildly, I see there are several other pods whose lights are still on. One man in particular stands out to me- both our hands on our windows, we lock eyes and I can see that he, too, is crying.
Suddenly, the door to what was about to be my casket groans as someone outside attacks it with a pry bar. They’re crouched below the window and all I can see is a black cap.
“HELP ME!” I scream so loudly I fear my throat will tear itself.
“Shut UP!” hisses the voice from the other side. “For fuck’s sake, calm down and stay quiet.”
“Please help me” I whimper. “Please. Please please please.”
“What the fuck do you think I’m *doing*? Now *shut up*!” hisses the voice again.
The door opens, protesting with groans and squeaks the entire time. Standing in front of me is a ghost from the past. Someone who should’ve been dead long ago: my old professor, Dr. Gregorov.
Tumbling out in a heap of sweat and tears, I start babbling as the adrenaline begins to subside in my bloodstream: “Oh my God, thank you! My pod—it’s broken, and there are others that are broken and, wait, how are you here? We have to help that man, the one right th-”
Crouching next to me, she cuts me off. “That was no fucking accident. Listen, I’m sorry about your friend over there, but he’s already on the conveyor to long term storage. That’s a whole different level of fucked. It’s a miracle I got to you before you were there, too. Right now, we’ve gotta move.”
But...what about Emily? And the man in the window?
My hesitation must’ve been written across my face, because she adopts a sweet, gentle tone; the kind you speak to a scared child with.
“Nicki, honey, Emily is fine. She’s safe. She’s asleep. You and me? We’re the ones in trouble here. I promise you’ll come back to her. But right now, *move your ass*.”
On shaky legs I follow her, watching as the light from the pod of the man in the window disappears into long term storage.
| I'm still awake. I wait for ten minutes before I realize something is wrong. Hmm, alright, hit the emergency release. The pod opens and I step out and look around and see all the sleeping people around me.
OK. Let's find the AI governor and ask what's happened. I walk up to the control room which is oddly blacked out. It should be lit since the models working up there weren't equipped with IR sensors.
I open the door and they've all frozen in positions. Shit. Just as I feared. I walk up to the nearest console and a green exclamation mark greets me with an error message. Oh well, at least emergency power is on. I tap the extended information tab and see the error is traced to a nearby CPU cluster.
The whole cluster? Down at once? That's really unlikely, in the event of a crash the dumps should have been analyzed by the backup AIs and brought online from oldest stable backups. What the hell is going on here?
I walk down from the control room and take a speeder car, I sit there like an ass for a couple of minutes before I remember that the governor for this area is out. Goddamnit, I haven't driven since kindergarten! I put it on manual and as the car swerves back and forth on the gigantic empty highway I'm thankful nobody else is seeing this shit.
After a few minutes, I become familiar again with the cars controls, however I'm still puzzled that the units own AI hasn't taken over, nor can I engage it again. This is starting to seem a bit too far fetched even for me.
I reach the hulking angular complex about twenty minutes later, looking up at it, I realize why they put these things so far out into the countryside. Because honestly, they're ugly as sin. Zero aesthetic value, just enough space to protect the machines inside from the weather outside. Couldn't they have slapped a fresh coat of paint on this shit at least? Why the super grey dull metal look?
Similar thoughts about our society flitter through my mind as I step into the elevator and push the button which does absolutely nothing. Oh for fucks sake, how many times am I going to repeat this stupid mistake? I sigh deeply to myself, chiding my own stupidity internally as I walk over to the stairs which lead 32 levels down. Shit, I'm so out of shape, this is going to suck isn't it?
Almost an hour later, I'm a sweaty mess and I'm starting to get very hungry since according to regulations I haven't eaten since two days before Shutdown day. I'm really starting to hate this nightmare.
I walk into the central processing center and everything is shut down. That sends chills down my spine as I now realize that most of humanity is in suspended animation with little or no supervision. Sure, each pod regulates itself in the event of a catastrophic meltdown and unlocks after a week if it doesn't reach the server, but this.. this is just ...
*It's deliberate!* Oh by the fucking lords, IT IS DELIBERATE! my mind screams at me as I look at the console that refuses to start. Shit shit shit shit, who could have done this? As I manage to turn the power on to an auxiliary console, I see more error messages indicating that someone has been obviously sabotaging everything. I look up error table after table, seeing them corrupted. I check the backups.. which .. aren't.. there. At this point, my hands are starting to shake so bad that I sit down on a barrel close by. This is bad, really really bad.
Alright, alright, think .. think goddamnit! What's the next step? Alright, I know where the master techs were stored away, after all being a data diviner afforded me that much knowledge. But all that biomechanical crap was so way beyond me. I stood back up, feeling dizzy no doubt from the lack of food, but also from the immense stress I felt.
I'd been going about this all wrong, I should have gone to the techs first. But what if one of them were in on it? Who could I trust? I tried to fight down the panic in my mind as I started for the door leading to those hateful stairs, once I was up again, I'd raid a food storage area and then.. oh no, oh fuck no.
I banged at the door in futility, it was a secured door, thick enough to withstand any terrorist attacks. I'd gotten in because it'd been left ajar, something I hadn't noticed when I came in. But now that it swung closed, it was forever locked.
I looked around at the small area I was in and sat down and cried until I fell asleep from exhaustion. That was three days ago.
This has been the last words of data Diviner Marsh Fembleton.
I fell victim to my own habits. | 2018-12-29T04:18:17 | 2018-12-29T04:13:22 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] When a person turns 18. they get to pick a statistic. For the rest of their life, they will know this statistic about anyone they meet (lies told, days left alive, etc.) | **General edit: if anyone is late to the party and would like to catch up with this WP in the right order (and at their own pace), the veritable legend that is /u/OC4815162342 has set me up a depository at /r/NWP1984stories/. To the veterans who have been here since the beginning: thank you for all your support - I wouldn't have done it without you**
**Last update: www.tinyurl.com/l2vryf9**
Justin liked being different. It seemed like *everyone* picked something to do with sex. It was so facile, so obvious, so goddamned human. Number of sexual partners, likelihood to shag, likelihood to felate *after* marriage... Justin felt that 18 was perhaps too young to make the choice of Instinct; at that age everyone only thinks about one thing. Justin just thanked God his parents had made a sensible choice.
In the beginning, some people had gone with the superhero angle - trying to save the world, one criminal at a time. Unfortunately, you could only fine-tune the Instinct so far, and number of crimes committed meant just that: after a couple of months it became apparent that the Superheros had wasted their Instinct: they might as well have just picked "number of speeding tickets evaded".
Some of the psychologists and neurlogists and doctors had formed small guilds, each deliberately picking a different statistic: odds of developing cancer, Alzheimers, Type II Diabetes. A simple walk past the panel provided all the information insurance companies would ever need. Premiums soared. Then genome funding collapsed; drug trials became faster and more accurate. Premiums collapsed.
Gambling, of course, took a hit. The bookies hired the best they could afford, but those whose Instincts were more refined knew where to go and when to bet. The financial markets went the same way.
Politics became nearly impossible. Once a senator's lie-count was determined all you had to do was send the pundit with the appropriate Instinct to watch him speak. All it took was a well-known pundit standing near the lecturn or the senate-floor to cough, each time his Instinct flared to bring down careers. We quickly learned there were few honest policians, and somethings we'd rather not know.
The Instinct had been a blessing and curse. Knowledge is power, but ignorance is bliss. Justin wanted to be different.
The clock blinked over to midnight. He closed his eyes and whispered gently into his pillow. | Jasper knew he loved her. He'd told her so many times - 14, to be exact. Yet still his palms were sweaty and his cuticles picked raw. A shaving cut glistened on his cheek as he gazed at his craggy features and gray flecked hair in the mirror. He looked every one of his 31 years and a few extra.
Jessica was already waiting for him at the bus stop. Another Thursday night. Date night. But something was different and she knew it. A nagging doubt filled her mind, could she reveal her statistic? She'd guarded it since her 18th birthday, refusing to tell anyone, especially those closest to her. There was something otherworldly about the whole system, a strange perversion on the human psyche.
Suddenly, Jasper was embracing her. Through the comforting and familiar warmth she could feel a new sensation, a slight shaking. He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered a truth.
Jessica gasped.
There was no going back. Jasper took a step away, and she had never seen him so vulnerable, yet so complete. She took his hands in hers, and after a deep breath, revealed her statistic... | 2014-08-11T03:15:04 | 2014-08-11T02:18:32 | 722 | 12 |
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile. | So it was really happening. The moon was looking bright; so bright you could read by it. These poor fools didn't know what was about to happen. Maybe the ransom would be paid; though that was doubtful. The University had a standing rule not to negotiate (and this sort of thing happened a lot) but my other half being in charge of my department might just make a difference there.
You never know. Not that it mattered. The moon was really shining.
"Hey!" Shouts the man obviously in charge of this gang of idiots.
"Yes?" I said. "Are they paying?"
"No. Looks like you're out of luck, my friend."
"Any message?"
"Just 'It was nice knowing you.' Someone doesn't want you back."
"That person is my wife, and she's saying goodbye. If you could let me go, it would be nice to see her again. I might get back in time. You're not getting anything either way. You got a family? You might want to do the same."
"What? That's not how this usually goes. They have to hand over the research, so we need to convince them we're not fooling around. That's bad news for you, and possibly for the next one we take. We're not stopping until we get what we want."
"You're not going to take anyone else. Unless you're quick, you're not going to hurt me either," I replied. "Haven't you looked out the window?"
"Huh. What are you on about?"
"The moon," I sighed. "Have you looked at the moon? Isn't it... beautiful tonight?"
He moved to a window, opened the curtains a crack to peer through. "Jeez, that's bright. How'd it get that bright?"
"You know what department I'm working for. This right now is the reason you took me."
"Astronomy? Look, I'm just doing a job here. Is... is there...?"
"Yes. Though there's nothing wrong with the moon. Well, not yet. What you're seeing is reflected light. We've known about this for months. There's no escaping it. By now half the planet has been cooked."
"What?" He removed his mask. Genuine fear in his face. The moon was on its way down below the horizon. "What are you talking about?"
"You've got..." I looked at the clock on the opposite wall. Assuming it was correct, we had about half an hour. "not long, as it happens. Watch the east, for as long as you can."
He left, went to the next room. Sounds of shouting. Doors slamming. I waited, still tied to the chair. I could hear a television faintly in the next room, a news channel. So they knew now.
My research, and that of my colleagues which confirmed it, had detected the solar anomaly months ago. Massive storms of magnetism building, focusing. There was nothing to be done.
The next room glowed as the eastern windows let in the dawn. Brighter and hotter than any dawn anyone had experienced. Steam from the dew on the window sill as it heated. Brighter and brighter, the curtains disintegrating dur to the intense heat. As I passed out, the air itself ignited as flames rolled over the town.
\--
&#x200B;
With thanks to Larry Niven. | "What a looser" laughed their Leader, "guess we gotta have to get our Investment some other way" leering over to the basement door.
"Guess the Rich really dont care, gimme that" came from another voice before the plop of a bottle was heard.
"These poor Men" she thought, feeling the arcane energies surge "And its a Blood Moon, too"
Concentrating on the Energies, Emily reached into the Void, calling for entities older then time
"I have a Tithe to offer. Mortals who dared to Prey above their Station. Their Souls should make a fine merry for a bit."
A voice hollowed from the walls, a mere whisper, booming like trumpets "Dear Sister partake in our Gift" just before the lights went
"Damn Bitch what are you mumbling down here? Got some News, your Hussy dont gonna pay for ya Ass, we...." stopping midsentence his face contorts, fighting against his body suddenly moving on its own.
"Yes, there is a Good Boy. Now open this Cage, and ill reward you" she says gently as he lurches forward, opening the Cells.
Stepping outside he is falling over, crumping down in silent pain, unable to Scream. "So you wanted some fun? How does it feel when your blood boils you from the inside?"
She smiles and turns towards the Stairs, darkness creeping in from all around, as she steps into it, a mere whisper remains "Guess i have to see how your friends are doing"
Lights from above begin to flicker, and he hears only gunfire and panicked screaming, then it all seems to be over, the pain is starting to stop as a shade forms from the ground "A last morsel...."
A bit later she steps out of the darkness at home. "I need a shower, they barely been worth the Energy" | 2021-03-19T03:44:38 | 2021-03-19T02:04:17 | 61 | 34 |
[WP] The universe has ended and nothing is left. Nothing except all the damn immortals created by the many Writing Prompts all standing around wondering what to do. | Claustrophobia was never much of an issue for me until the universe ran out of space.
"Damn it all, Esteban, if you sing that song one more time-"
"It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes," Esteban said, accent making the lyric more comical than it had any right to be.
We were all jammed together in the Big Crunch, the outer limits of the universe now giving us all a couple millimeters each to breath.
I used my couple of millimeters to wind up and try to punch Esteban in the stomach. He just laughed.
"You know it's true, muchacha. The universe is gonna be one steamy orgy in a minute."
He was right, of course. The heat was impossibly intense, hotter than the stars had ever been. We were lucky; immortality had come with a rather sensible negation of pain. We still felt it, of course, but it didn't burn our indestructible flesh, and that meant no pain receptors fired.
The indignity was the real issue. There were dozens of us in here. So many immortals spawned from so many cliches.
Though to be honest, after so much time, everything was cliche.
In a way, it was the ultimate quandary of physicists throughout all of existence. What happens when the inexorable heat death of the universe meets the uncrushable flesh of immortals spawned by some cosmic narrator's whim?
Esteban happened. So many jokes about heat and, inevitably, sex. He had gone a much more hedonistic route with his immortality than most of us. Of course, he was crushed right up against me.
"I gotta say, mija, the two of us, we really lucked out. At least we're both sexy. You see those two over there?" He flicked his brown eyes over toward a very uncomfortable pair. "Shawn and...Eugene? All squished together? Neither one of them is even gay."
"Give it a few thousand years," Shawn shouted from across the group.
This was without a doubt the least lucky I had ever been. I'd take Eugene any day.
Still, there was hope. We were pretty sure that there was a way to restart things, to cause another Big Bang and renew the universe.
Esteban had an idea. I was at least 85% certain it wouldn't work.
"Mija. Ey, mija. Don't you think it's possible?"
I rolled my eyes. "No, no, I do not."
"Aw, come on," he whined. "I mean, what's it hurt to try?"
"Esteban, we are not going to restart the universe by having a 'Big Bang' orgy. That's stupid and you're stupid."
He looked a little hurt. Good.
In truth, there was likely nothing we could do to accelerate the process. We would have to wait however long it took until we couldn't be compressed together any more. That was, by the accounts left behind by past generations of immortals, the only way to start things off right.
Waiting. You'd think we'd be better at it by now.
Esteban was a pig, but he was an honest pig. At least I had that. I could've been bunched up against Nel, on the other side of the pack.
Still, the first thing I was doing once sentient life got going again was starting up a convent. "The Order of Chaste Esteban-haters" was a rather appealing name.
That would be millions or billions of years from now, even with our help.
Even packed up against a shameless womanizer, I had to admit this could be worse.
I could be in here alone.
| The hardest question in the universe had a simple answer as it turned out.
We were here to create.
The problem was, the creators were mortal, and in their wishes to remain immortal they had created people like myself. An immortal.
I was a comic character come to life. Suprising isn't it? That people like me actually exist in the universe. Yeah, ain't that a bitch? I exist because infinite means anything anyone could ever possibly think of as a character, must exist.
What's infinite and what's ironic aren't very far apart in my eyes these days.
Anyway, the first thousand years were entertaining. I was a hero, someone who saved the day in ways that ranged from touching to improbable. The kind of experiences that make a person grow and accept who they are meant to be in this whole experience we call the universe.
The next millennia was significantly more boring. The stories ran out. The author, or authors, I can't really tell at this point. My backstory has been retconned so many times I barely remember what's real, and what happened in another multiverse.
I'm immortal. That's how my author wrote me. Something he thought he might have wanted at one point in his life. Hell, that's probably why he created me in the first place. Some kind of primal instinct to shout against the void that at some point that person was there. He mattered. He was a part of the universe and he had left his mark on it.
I'm a legacy of that.
And it's incredibly lonely.
You see, when you're immortal - truly immortal - eons become blinks of an eye. Nothing matters. Have you ever heard of the hedonistic treadmill? That's my life, only it's a never ending Sisyphean tale that brings me nothing but pain and misery. Because all the people I love have died and I can never join them.
It's my intent to search the universe for more like me. If it's truly infinite, as my life has proven, then there must be others out there like me.
I can't tell you when I'll find them. But I will.
Because that's how I shout against the void. That's how I make my mark. I prove I'm not alone in this unfeeling universe. That someone else out there understands.
And I will find them. | 2018-03-09T17:24:21 | 2018-03-09T17:16:14 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] You’re psychic. It’s not a big deal, 0.5% of the population is. You keep it a secret, and you don’t eavesdrop. People’s minds are boring. Now your stuck in a room with a mind-blind idiot who keeps loudly thinking “I know you’re listening.” You want him to stop, but you can’t reveal your secret. | The voice chanted, like a mantra. "I know you're listening. I know you're listening. I know you're listening."
I nonchalantly looked around at the press briefing, trying to spot the mind-blinder they had running to smother people like me. The temptation to Find them - just a tiny teasing probe here or there - was strong.
First rule of the psychic assassin: don't probe if you don't want to get caught; if they're psychic too, they'll know who and what you are instantly.
The reporter next to me stood up, pushed back her glasses with a finger, and spoke boldly. "Madam President, is it true that an agency has splintered off the NSA to secretly capture and use psychics for government use?"
Clearly, the president had been prepared for that one as she fielded it smoothly. "Even if such an absurd claim were true, I wouldn't be able to answer it. If my friend from the Guardian can't figure out why, perhaps look up what the NS stands for in NSA."
"IknowyourlisteningIknowyou'relisteningIknowyou'relistening..." It had picked up speed now, blurring together in a seamless wall of thought that made it almost impossible to think, much less to hazard a use of my abilities. It was only when I noticed the outside silence and the entire room staring at me that I realized I had my hand up and apparently had just been called on.
Flushing, I sprang to my feet. "Madam President, how do we know psychics are real? Hundreds of scientists have challenged the study for issues ranging from insufficient sample size, findings that border on the edge of statistical aberration, questionable-to-faulty data collection-"
I caught her slight smile and knew she was waiting for that one too.
"Apparently someone didn't do their homework," she said, smiling condescendingly. "I know journalistic standards are pretty low nowadays, but surely you could at least check YouTube and Wikipedia."
I flushed deeper, the chant sprouting a headache somewhere deep in my brain. I was oddly grateful for the titter of laughter that followed her comments as it gave me an out for my involuntary grimace of pain and annoyance.
Second rule of the psychic assassin: you're just like everyone else.
"That video could have been faked; some insider who rigged the lottery drawings then-"
"Didn't your network just run a headline about 'The Threat of Psychic Terrorism' last week?" she said, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yes, but that wasn't-"
"Next question."
Frustrated, embarrassed, and feeling the buried nail of a migraine hammering into the base of my skull as the chant sped up and intensified further, I stormed out of the room. A few pitying or amused looks followed my from my fellows, but I ignored them, all I could do to not run from the press room towards the nearest bathroom.
Half-way down a hallway, I caught a glimpse of a figure behind a quickly closed door down the hall just past the press room - a young man with untidy hair rocking back and forth in a chair, his fingers tapping together rhythmically. As the door closed, the chant softened oh-so-slightly.
The bathroom was far enough away that the chant had faded to a low hum, buzzing like a hovering mosquito. I splashed water on my face and took deep breaths, clearing my head.
I'd just turned off the faucet when the door opened, a clean cut man in a suit that screamed TLA - Three Letter Agency - taking a station at a sink down the counter. I caught the faint tremor of his hands as he produced a small bottle of painkillers from an inside jacket pocket. He glanced at me as I walked past towards the door, then looked down as he spilled a couple pills into his hand.
"Tough room," he said, perhaps in consolation.
"You have no idea," I said, darting the briefest flicker of thought into his mind.
He spun instantly, eyes widening, the pill bottle falling as he reached for the shoulder-holster under his jacket. My pen slammed into the side of his neck and I half-way through the door before his thrashing body even hit the floor.
"Then again, maybe you do," I said softly as I left.
It was only when I'd passed back through security and was safe in a cab that I breathed again, sinking into the seat.
Third rule of the psychic assassin: your power grows the less of you there are.
0.5% is far, far too many. | Noisy projectors are an occasional hazard for psychics such as myself. Usually it they announce themselves as paranoid know it alls. The usual suspects are sensitive women and children who might be border line paranoid schizophrenics but this guy was different.
He looked like an asshole bully who liked to torment others just to feed his narcissistic ego. I don’t like rude boys who get off on hurting others. I mentally tagged him as a “Chad”.
In most circumstances I would have just gone into “forget me mode” and walk away. But this was a trapping situation so other measures needed to be taken. I had mentally prepared for just this situation many times before but this was the first time that I would actually have to put my defensive measures into action.
Psychic people are not always just receptors, some of us can also project quite strongly into the minds of others. The issue is that one has to act in a way that is both covert and force appropriate to the threat presented.
The problem with a psychic attack is that you get mentally and emotionally entangled with a person you typically don’t want to be involved with in anyway.
My other option is to take him out with a puff from the devil’s breath and leave him alone in a stupor some where.
I take out my phone to use a prop for misdirection and start using it like an attention challenged person would as a cover to better surveil my target. He was sitting off to the side of me is some ridiculous tactic cool outfit wearing a MAGA hat. Definitely at “Chad” if I ever saw one.
Then an ugly thought crossed my mind, what if he was projecting as bait and working with another person to troll for psychics to identify them for some nefarious purpose. The waiting area at the DMV was crowded so it would be difficult for me to spot an accomplice if he was working with one.
I would have to make a distraction to break his broadcast something that would lead back to him and reveal him and any accomplices he might have working for him.
Then it occurs to me to psychically push the grumpy girl who is sitting right in front of him to notice him and his creep stare. I subtly begin to send her suggestions like, take out your compact and look to see who is behind you.
Then I suggest that she start “fixing” her hair because she wants to look on on her new driver’s license. I enhance her dis-satisfaction with some stray hair so much so that she pulls out a small spray can of hair spray to tame those stray hairs. I nudge her just enough so that she “accidentally” hits him with a blast of spray right in the face.
This immediately stops “Chad” from continuing to broadcast his “message”.
While that drama draws everyone’s attention I quickly look around for any accomplices that maybe in the room working with him. I don’t see anyone or sense anyone who might be working with him.
With a sigh of relief I settle back down to wait for my turn to renew my license. | 2018-12-19T06:29:22 | 2018-12-19T06:21:41 | 57 | 13 |
[WP] The god of death is stumped when your soul arrives in the underworld. Your name doesn't appear in the book of death nor in the book of life. | “Ok,” Margret began rubbing her temples, “run that by me one more time?”
“You can’t come in.”
“Listen I think I’m handling the whole death thing pretty well, especially since I’m in HELL!”
“Yea no I applaud how weirdly sociopathic of you this whole handling situation is, but you can’t come in. You’re not on the list,” said Thanatos taking another look. “Yup, no Margret Abels on my list and since you’re not on the list I can’t let you in. Also, not Hell, Hell doesn’t exist. Not really in your sense of the word at least.”
“Of course, this happens to me,” Margret shook her head. “Can you point me to heaven then? Is there an escalator somewhere around here I can take? Or even better an elevator?”
“Eh I don’t think you really are understanding this. Let’s start this over,” Margret rolled her eyes and sat on the stones outside the gate mockingly waving Thanatos on. “You are Margret Abels, you are dead, you are now in the Underworld. Got it so far?” She gave him a thumbs up. “Good, I am Thanatos and also the God of Death. I control the souls journeying to the Underworld by allowing them through this gate,” motioning up and down the Golden Gate, “which ensures safe passage right to where you will spend eternity.”
“Cool,” Margret chimed in hopping off the stone, “then open up and let’s get this journey started.”
“You really don’t get it, YOU. ARE. NOT. ON. THE. LIST. I can’t open the gate, not because I don’t want to but because it physically won’t open.”
“Soooooo….? I sit here and wait for you to figure it out? What’s the move here? Haven’t I suffered enough throughout my life, now I need to suffer through sitting here while you figure out how to open a gate?”
“No,” Thanatos shook his head looking towards the ground. “You can still come to the Underworld, but you need to take the long way around.”
Pointing towards the mountains to the left, Margret notices a small pathway they lead into the mountains. As her mouth fell agape she swiveled her head back to the large man at the gate who looked as equally upset by that decision as she felt. “Absolutely not. I’m good, I’ll wait here for you to sort this out.”
“It’s possible to make it, I promise. There has only ever been one person not be on the list here, and they made the trek on that path to the underworld. They made it to the Underworld eventually, but they were changed forever. That’s the only way to get here, I’m sorry,” Thanatos took a few steps back towards the shadows of the mountain, “I need to go and so do you.”
“WAIT! The person who took the path before can you ask them if they have any advice for me?” The sweat on Margret’s brow already began to form as the nerves and reality of her situation settled in.
“Don’t stop moving until you make it to the Underworld and listen to no one that you come across on your path. It will test you in ways you didn’t think were possible.”
“How do you know? Who had to do this before can I at least talk to them before going!” Margret had run up to the gate clutching the bars as Thanatos was nearly out of sight and earshot.
“You just did.” And with that, all that could be heard was silence.
------
I hope you enjoyed my story and any feedback is welcome!
r/PlopWrites | And with that, I conjured up a small foldable chair, set it up on the ground, and sat on it. "Dear Death. I'm here to talk about the new kids on the block. Humanity." Its blank eyes narrowed, searching me for any ill intent. There would be none in this plane. And then the negotiations commenced.
I came here on behalf of this new crop of modern titans. I had seen them come and go in a cycle most unusual. They started out as gods, entities, every last one of them, including me. And then they died, and came back immediately afterward, once more young and naive, but with their powers... lessened. Only I remained of them all, for a greater purpose forged from my own will.
I was a scientist of sorts. And so I'd been studying humanity each time they completely died, how they grew, what they would learn. And learn they did, they learned much more of their increasingly smaller universe than I ever knew, and they taught it well, so I listened as much as I could. And yet they died again and again, each time growing weak, but learning more. And now they could all be waved away from existence with a flick of my finger, yet knew so much...
I was out of the loop on these things. Death and life was a distant concept, and it was only due to my intense focus that I was able to keep track of these curious people once my one. It was a distant candle waiting to be burnt out forever. But I wanted to learn more. So I made my proposal.
"And so, dear Death, I hope you understand. When they die, can you just send them right back into a new body? I'm sure the world can take it. And you've had so many already. What say you?"
The specter is silent for a while, then nods. Just like that? That was infinitely too easy, but I sat up, got my chair, and vanished from the underworld, soul and all. And as I left, I reflected back on the face of the one who brought things into oblivion, and realized that there had been a mixture of fear and reverence there the whole time as I explained. Perhaps the people have rubbed off on them. Or...
I started to wonder if I was that God all my former comrades kept talking about down there. | 2019-03-06T08:34:02 | 2019-03-06T03:52:55 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] Everyone in the world suddenly got superpowers overnight. People started throwing fireballs and flying as more and more humans discovered what their power was. You just recently discovered yours. You can quicksave and quickload. | It seemed useless at first. I mean, why would I want to be able to quicksave and quickload while others are out there flying around? I want to fly. I got the worst superpower. This sucks.
Or so I thought at first. I mean, can you blame me? It SEEMS useless at first, but you remember eventually: a game without saving is pretty dumb. If you made a wrong decision. Easy, right?
Those were my second thoughts. After thinking about it for a few good minutes, I decided to test this out. I got to the highest building in my town, quicksaved, and jumped. When I got scared, I quickloaded and I was back. On the rooftop. I took the stairs back down, and tried thinking of other ways to test it out, when...
I saw a fireball. Not a meter from my face. My eyes widened as I quickloaded...
And I was back on the rooftop. I took the stairs again, went outside, but this time looking at where the fireball came from. There was a girl, looking horrified at the fact that she nearly hit me with a fireball.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that! Are you okay?" She ran to me, nearly crying.
"I'm okay, I knew it was coming." And I regret saying it immediately.
"You knew? What's your superpower then?"
What do I do? I don't know this girl, can I trust her?
"It's... Do you play games?" Wrong move.
"Games suck. Why do you want to know, though?"
"Nevermind then. You probably wouldn't understand."
With those words, I turned around and started walking home. She began following me though.
"C'mon, tell me! I'll light you on fire if you don't!"
She looked like a 16 year old, and that made me think she was a little kid.
"You're acting like you're 10 years old or something. Why does it even matter?" I quicksaved just in case.
"It matters because I want to know."
"Well, you can't. Please don't threaten me, by the way."
I'm glad I quicksaved just now, because I felt something really hot before quickloading. | I was sitting in my room trying to decide what pants to wear. "These jeans look good, but these shorts are probably way more comfortable." I thought to myself. While trying to decide I felt an itch on my head. When I scratched my head, a small box appeared in front of me. "Saving, please wait." as soon as I realised was happened, the box vanished.
I walked to my locker, my jeans resisting all movement. As I opened the locker I heard gigging behind me. There was a group of people staring at my jeans. As I looked down, I spotted a giant hole exposing my underwear. I felt my face grow red.
I was sitting in my room trying to decide what pants to wear. "These jeans look good, but these shorts are probably way more comfortable." I thought to myself. | 2019-06-30T08:49:38 | 2019-06-30T06:46:12 | 220 | 96 |
[WP] It is the middle ages. You have befriended the odd town apothecary. He is infinitely wise and is said to commune with the devil to gain his powers. One night you catch him talking to him through a small piece of glass with strange runes on it. One is a large apple with a missing bite. | I carried with me a sack full of herbs and leaves that my friend, the town apothecary, asked me to gather at the nearby forest. He was an odd fellow: he frequently recited strange incantations to himself, such as 'paracetamol' and 'ibuprofen', as well as lengthy sequences of numbers and letters that always ended with 'dot com.' Some of the townspeople called him a rambling lunatic due to it, while several authorities of the Church were just about ready to brand him as a worshiper of the Devil; but despite what everyone else said about him, I believed in the apothecary.
After all, he had been of huge help to me ever since we met.
Whenever I had questions, he always provided quick and satisfying answers to my queries. He told me that his sagely prowess in solving problems was granted to him by a deity named Goo'gl, while his extensive knowledge on things came from his education in the grand halls of Wiki. Whenever I asked for stories from his travels, he would recount his exploits with an infamous traveler named Y'Tube. He also reminisced of the times when fellow apothecaries met yearly at a secret location, an event which he calls Re'dit. Hearing all this from the apothecary's mouth was almost unbelievable with how grand his life seemed because of it, but all his tales could be backed up by his skill in making medicines and drugs.
I took in a deep breath as the apothecary's workshop, a location which he preferred to call his 'laboratory', came into my view. I set down the bag of herbs onto the floor and lifted a fist to knock, when I noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Out of curiosity, I peeked through the slight opening, and what I saw shocked me: it was the apothecary, with a strange, rectangular object that had a white 'bitten apple' rune inscribed on its back. The contraption looked like it could be held on one hand, and it gave off a bright light towards the apothecary's face. It also produced sound, loudly even, as if it was talking directly at him.
I laid a hand on the door to open it slightly, wanting to ask the apothecary about what he was looking at until—
"It's f—ing raw!" My heart nearly leaped out of my chest at the sudden exclamation, and I could only watch as the apothecary...kept looking at the object. Now he had on a smile, which grew into a grin; a huge, toothy grin. I looked on in horror as the apothecary erupted into laughter, while the object made sounds of anger, torture, and the mad clattering of pots and pans.
"Where is the lamb sauce!" At that point, I didn't think twice to just leave the bag at the door and bolt towards the direction of the town. I witnessed it. I personally witnessed it! The evil, the madness, the unrestrained laughter of the man! I stumbled halfway, but I was able to regain my footing. It didn't matter if my knee started bleeding from the scrape I got from falling: the townspeople had to know what I saw.
They needed to know what I saw!
"Everyone, hide the lambs!" I called out, breathlessly, tiredly, while the townspeople looked at me. "They're going to be turned into sauce!"
The next day, a mob with torches and pitchforks came to the apothecary's workshop, but the man himself was never found.
And he had never, ever been seen again.
\_\_\_
Sorry, I don't know what came over me when I wrote this. I also ~~don't~~ apologize for the low effort humorous take on this prompt.
Edited for better reading. | On a usual night, I waltz into the apothecary's room carelessly, and notice something strange. The old man is staring at what looks like a small piece of glass with vaguely understandable runes on it. I walk up to him, and then it suddenly hits me as I see the back: That's an iPhone 5S.
"Are you serious?", I exclaimed as he looks up in me in shock. The apothecary tries to put his phone in his pocket, but I shortly interrupt him by pulling out my iPhone 40S Pro Max. It has 10 cameras on the back, and has the A42 Bionic DX. Shame they haven't ditched the notch, due to it being necessary for Face ID.
I barked at the old man, "Your phone is puny! How the hell do you even live with that tiny screen, and iOS 12?"
The old man stuttered. "H-h-how does that phone have 10 cameras? What insanity is this?"
"It's not insanity. It's the 40S Pro Max. I bet you're a time traveler too, how do you not know of this?"
"Well, our time machines can only go back in time, not forward. I'm stuck here, as you can tell. We literally only had the 12 when I came here. Not even the S." Suddenly, I realize why he has a 5S. Those were still around at the time of the 12, right? Did they even have 10G?
"Well, that makes sense. Also, the fact you have an iPhone kind of explains why the townsfolk thought you talked with the 'devil'," I conceded.
"I know, right? Why do they even call Siri the devil, anyways?"
"I bet you they don't understand the tech. This is the middle ages, after all."
The old man joked, "Honestly though, it's kind of nice not having android fanboys making fun of us, right?"
"At least we have common ground there."
We both went our seperate ways after that, knowing a bit more of eachother than we did before.
I wonder if he's gonna start airdropping me stuff now...
---
I hope you enjoyed this little short story! Somehow I understanded what the prompt was talking about in specific, so I thought maybe I should respond.
Edit: Yo, what the hell? 72 upvotes! Thanks so much for your support! | 2019-10-04T22:39:39 | 2019-10-04T19:12:40 | 533 | 78 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear E,
I love you. Not the cheesy love I felt in high school, and not the way I love the woman I think I'm going to marry, but you hold a place in my heart that no one else can.
We were destructive. We weren't good for each other. You were emotionally abusive, and I was amazed a pretty girl would give me the time of day. I was putty in your hands, and you took advantage of that to the fullest. I had my faults too, but you put the nail in the coffin.
Then you got kicked out of school. You moved in with another guy and confided in me about your relationship problems. I, a guy who cares too much and tries too hard, was more than willing to stay up until the wee hours listening to you and solving the problems of a relationship I had no part in. We might have been a thunderstorm, but he was a hurricane. You kept seeing him, and kept coming to me for advice. I conceded.
Then the accident happened.
You were going too fast. You hit a puddle. You couldn't keep from swerving into the other lane. You survived, but not without some brain damage.
I remember speeding to the hospital and seeing him. The man who was the vehicle to this lifestyle that put you here.
The man whose smile was as crooked as your front bumper when I saw your car in the junkyard. It was the first time I recall feeling genuine hate. The first time I wanted someone to die. To change places with you.
The next few months you'll never remember. You were in a coma. You were in rehab. You couldn't speak. You couldn't eat. I was there every other day, spending hours with you, watching movies with the husk of a person I once knew.
But you improved. Your brain damage wasn't as bad as they thought, but it changed you. You became frustrated. You would lash out at me due to your brain's lack of ability to filter. You'd hit me. I remained there. I taught you to count again. I taught you colors. I taught you the parts of your face. I fed you your first solid meal.
Then college came. Then I realized that things would never be the same. That as much as I cared for you, I had to move on, and so did you. You were recovered to the best that you would be, and you were moving out on your own.
You have a baby now. You have a boyfriend. I have a woman by my side who I love dearly. There's no trace of romantic feelings whatsoever, but I'll always remember our time together. I'll always care for you deeply. You'll always be the one who taught me what caring for people really means.
You'll never remember what I did. You'll never remember learning colors or numbers or eating your first meal from a spoon I was holding.
I think I like it better that way.
We were a thunderstorm, but the skies are clear now.
| Hey cous,
It's been what 2 years now? Almost 3? Ahaha. I hope you're happy where ever you ended up. I miss you and the family misses you. I wish you could see how big the kids have gotten. Not to brag or anything but I'm the favorite uncle, ahaha. Though... I don't think I could top how much love and genuine affection you've shown them when you were here. I don't know how to say some of the things I've been holding onto or even what to say. I've never been good with expressing myself. I can't even words sometimes, most of the times. :P
Anyways,
I'm sorry for how things went down aye. It was a total shit show when you left but I tried. I tried keeping everyone together, I really did. It wasn't the greatest send off and there were so many things I wanted to do "right" but life. I know how watching everyone act the way they did must have broken your heart but we both know they're all good people. They just don't know how to act sometimes ahaha, old country aye? Your brothers miss you and, as much as you two argued, so does your sister. Your mom and dad are well, they're still batshit crazy ahaha and so are the rest of the oldies.
To be honest though, I'm still coping.
I was always taking care of all of us when we were younger, *sigh* remember the fights I would get into because of you brats? Those really were good times... Anyways, I'm gonna go now. I've written this with nowhere to send it.
Miss you forever, J.I | 2015-12-05T16:37:50 | 2015-12-05T13:45:57 | 94 | 15 |
[WP]Sometimes children get born with weird diseases like vampirism or lycantrophy. The effects of these uncurable illnesses only get detectable when the kid is around 8 years old. Many parents then abandon their child. You run an orphanage for these children. | Judy had noticed it first. She was a vampire, like around a third of the wards of St. Lucius' orphanage and vampires tended to be some of the smarter residents. Her Heritage had provided her with fangs and magic, but she lacked the bat form her fellows prided themselves on so she was still here with me. Unadopted.
Speaking of me, my name is Mickey. Short for Michael, assumably, but all it says on my profile is "Mickey -- Heritage Unclear". Most Unclears turn out to be a mix, with weaker powers of two or more Heritages. Sometimes that's good and sometimes that's bad. For instance, a bat form and ghost intangibility? Good. Sunlight aversion and poisoned by silver? Bad.
Except that's not the case for me; I almost wish it was. At least kids with bad crossed Heritages can get adopted to do some kind of work. Even a garbage vampire-werewolf-ghost hybrid is marginally stronger than a human. Yep, I'm thirteen now, and five years after I should've gotten some kind of Heritage I'm still waiting. Futilely, assumably. Which is why when Judy sat me down in our corner of the commons and told me she'd figured out what I am, I was worried.
"Yeah Judes, I know, I'm a human. I figured it out a while ago." But Judy shook her head. "I've met humans before and they smell tasty, even after the conditioning. You smell... The opposite of tasty. No offense." Judy looked a little sheepish.
"Disgusting?" I raised an eyebrow at her. She very rarely put her foot in her mouth or insulted me, so I wondered what she meant. "No, you smell... Bland? No... Clean. You smell clean. Very, very clean."
My other eyebrow raised this time. My one interesting ability. "So then what am I?" Judy looked around before answering. "I think you're... From the other end of the spectrum."
My brows united in their skepticism this time. "You think I'm a Holy?! The enemy of the Houses of Heritage - long thought extinct after Saint Lucius' own efforts in the second Meta-World War?!" Judy nodded. "I think you're probably the child of a low ranking angel. That's why you aren't very obvious to everybody. It took me ten years of being around you constantly to even think of it, so probably nobody else thinks so."
I thought about it for a moment. Is that even better than being a human? But at least it's something. "Is there any way to know for sure?" I asked Judy and she grinned. "Who's your favorite fang?" I rolled my eyes. "You are Judes, as always." "Good," said the grinning pasty girl in front of me, doing her best impression of Matron Vlad's scheming pose, complete with a few magical shadows on her face for effect. "I asked Lucy about his war days, about the angels, and he told me something that I think will do it. Apparently when an angel holds a cross it changes into a weapon."
Crosses. Even just a small cross is enough to make a newly Herited squirm. Thus, the largest hole in Judy's idea. "You know there's now a single cross in the entire orphanage, right? And if you're right I'm the only one who can touch them in the whole place." Judy laughed again. "You're right. There *wasn't*. But just because I can't touch one, doesn't mean I can't make one."
Judy had stored her contraband in the lower levels. The younger wards weren't allowed to be there, but anybody practicing magic had free reign, plus anyone they invited. I remembered Judy telling me that even the magic Lucy radiates was tough to feel while they were down here when she was first allowed. Something about the stones it was built with, she said.
When we finally got to her room, after a long walk down, I was surprised to see how empty it looked. "My other projects didn't like it. I had to move them." She answered my questions out of my head sometimes, but I didn't mind. In the far corner of the room was a tiny wooden cross on a flat pedestal. "That's it?" Judy's face flushed a little. "I'm not sure what's going to happen if I'm right, so I kept the cross small... And the room big." She moved to the opposite corner of the room, away from the cross. "If it hurts or something put it down or back off, I must've been wrong."
I looked at Judy and she looked back. We both knew she was wrong very infrequently. I stepped right up to the pedestal. "I can't feel anything, except my nerves," I called to Judy, "so I guess I'm picking it up now." So I did.
It was warm for a moment as I lifted the wood. Wood in a dank castle dungeon shouldn't be warm, I thought. Then for a moment I couldn't feel it in my hands at all, and then I almost dropped it as it changed into an ornamented five foot sword. It was heavy, but not too heavy. The silver blade glinted in contrast with its sun-colored hilt as I held it up in the torch-light. Suddenly I felt it heat up and for a brief second, the blade burned bright with brilliant fire. Judy ducked behind a stone column. The light died as quickly as it had come though, and I was once again holding a fairly normal sword, myself unaffected by the blaze. Judy peeked out, unaffected as well, and said with a grin a phrase I'd heard hundreds of times before but never thought my name would be included in.
"Hail Michael, Herited of the House of Angels." | The children all lay sound asleep before her as she smiled. It had taken her some time but the newer kids where starting to warm up to the orphanage. She reached out towards some of the children, gently tucking them into their blankets, making them more comfortable, many of the children glowing faintly as the moons light lay through the windows, illuminating many of them. She shook her head sighing. Many of the children where living normal lives until they turned. Till the changed. Many of them where able to take on other forms, many others able to control elements,, but the children that she looked upon now where all, in other words, the living dead.
She inspected many of the children's faces, some of their skin peeling and flaking off. Some of the children's hair or teeth falling out. She made a mental note that tomorrow morning she would help each of them ease into their new lives. either it be with makeup or making them feel comfortable with their person in general. She turned back towards the door, checking in on the other children on the other side of the room, before softly closing the door behind her, passing by many opened doors as she heard soft chattering or laughter. Many of the nocturnal children where up and starting their night. Her young and vibrant self bounded from hall to hall, her light brown hair pulled neatly into a bun.
She made her way to the dining hall,greeting many of the children, some covered in fur, some paler than normal. A lot of the older children where laughing and smiling, having a wonderful time. A few of the younger ones where crowded together, talking to themselves and staring around the room. They where slowly getting used to their new home. But one of the children, one of the newer ones, was alone, curled up underneath one of the furthest tables. She glided towards the small child before sliding underneath the table as well. The child seemed scared, staring at his new caretaker, before sniffling. "I want to go home, Mrs MerryWeather!" Before curling up into her chest and sobbing. Many of the older children having already left the dining hall his cries echoed around the room. She comforted him as best as she could for a couple of moments.
"I know dear, but you cant. For your families safety, and for your own as well." Mrs. Merryweather sighed softly. His pale skin almost glowing underneath the table.
"But why?! i thought i was a good boy! Do my parents not love me anymore? I dont understand." He frowned, burying himself further into her chest.
"No dear, thats not why at all. they love you very very much, but when you turned eight you changed. they worried about how they could take care of you, they worried about many things, and they made a tough decision to bring you to me for me to take care of you." she smiled softly, before poking his small pale nose. He cheered up after a few moments and gave her a hug before crawling out from underneath the table and running off to find the other children his age to play with.
A soft, low chuckle echoed around her before she heard the sound of footsteps. a pair of brown loafers and slacks stopping before her as a hand was extended out towards her. "Even after all these years and you still treat each child like they are your own." She gracefully took the males hand as he pulled her out from underneath the table. He was rather young looking, maybe 18-19 years old.
"You mean like with you my dear Timothy?" She patted the young boys back and smiled warmly, before she softly yawned. "Many of you children grow up to do many wonderful things: President of the country, some are major CEOs, many own their own business'. you children needed at least some place to call home. so you children could have as much a normal life as possible. And many, like you, decided to stay back and help the newer children out each and every day. Its becuase of that that this orphanage has grown so much."
He helped move her, taking her withered hand on his, guiding her up the flight of stairs and into her own room. He gently laid her down on the bed and undid her hair, the strands glistening from the moon light as her hair turned white. He tucked her in, kissed her softly upon the forehead before leaving and closing the door behind him.
&#x200B; | 2019-01-17T09:10:49 | 2019-01-17T08:51:51 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] Reincarnation is real, unknown to all, but the gods. Most beings live out multiple lives cyclically as humans or other life-forms and are always random. But these two souls are always human, always find each other, and are always romantically exclusive upon discovery. The gods take interest. | He’s fighting for his life.
His blade flickers like silver fire, moving in sweeping arcs and rapid thrusts. Hers moves like glowing lightning, so fast it leaves afterimages. Two knights - one male, one female - stand in the middle of a forest clearing.
"Surrender," he says.
“And bend the knee? Serve that tyrant?” She spits.
“He wants what’s best for the kingdom,” he says.
“He wants nothing but power. You’ve seen what he’ll do to get it.”
“The ends justify the means,” he says, but he doesn’t seem so sure. His blade drops, and so does hers.
“Do you really believe that? I know you’ve seen what he’s done to those villages.”
He grimaces. “What else is there? Where else could I go? What else could I do?”
“You could come with me,” she states quietly.
And after a moment, he does.
---
—
She’s in a sitting-room with her family, discussing her engagement.
“You can’t marry a baker,” her mother says. “He’s low-class.”
“I can and I will,” she says. “I love him.”
“Then you shall have nothing from this family. No money, no inheritance.”
She simply leaves without another word.
---
—
He’s standing aboard one of the greatest ships ever built, the wooden planks creaking beneath his feet. A pirate’s skull and crossbones fly above the deck.
“Incoming!” He cries, adjusting his eyepatch. “It’s the law!”
His crew scramble to their stations. They know their duties.
As the first wave of cannonfire comes, he looks through the telescope at the incoming navy.
He can see the captain of their flagship.
He can see her blow him a kiss.
---
—
She’s walking into a coffeeshop with plans to work on her dissertation. He comes by with her usual order before she even asks.
“Long day?” He asks.
“You know it,” she says with a grin. “I could use a little company.”
“My shift ends in five minutes.”
No work gets done, naturally.
---
—
He’s storming the compound with a fireteam of six. She’s right at his side.
“Breach!” He shouts, but then a hail of bullets blows through the door and turn his organs to mush. He collapses, streaming from a dozen wounds.
Something inside her breaks.
---
—
She’s going public with the stolen data - revealing the megacorp’s transgressions to the world.
“They won’t let you live,” he says. “I know their operations, inside and out.”
“Then turn me in,” she says. “It’s your job.”
Instead, he hands her his handgun and his multipass.
“You’ve got twenty-four hours before they find out and deactivate it,” he states. “Good luck.”
She steps close, and her lips meet his.
---
—
He’s pushing through the Empress’s flagship, blaster at the ready. It spits hot streams of plasma at its crew.
When he breaks into the engine room, he plants a bomb at the base of the reactor.
“How could you do this?” she cries over the intercoms. “I loved you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he murmurs under his breath. “But it’s for the greater good.”
And nuclear fire consumes the ship.
---
—
She’s fighting entropy in a dying universe.
And as the cold sets in and the reactors die, she holds him tight.
---
—
And when it all has ended and it all begins anew...
He awakes alone in an endless, empty plain.
Well, almost alone.
---
/r/OneMillionWords | "Hey, John, come and take a look at this for a second."
"Hmmm, what is it?"
"See these two ID's? 571024 and 1130426?"
"Yep, they're certainly numbers, alright."
"See how they're romantically attached? Well, I saw them together last sim too."
"Yeah, that's probably just a coincidence, Christina. Too much staring at the numbers getting to your head."
"I thought that too, but I took a look through the records. Every single sim we've run, these two ID's have been together each time."
"Look, you probably just screwed up your query. Let me try. System, select all sims where relations between actor ID 571024 and actor ID 1130426 includes romance."
"*5097 results returned.*"
"Huh, weird. System, select all sims."
"*5097 results returned.*"
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Definitely a bug, though it doesn't look system critical."
"I don't know... listen, John, this is kind of out there, but... do you believe in destiny?"
"You're kidding, right? I can't believe I'm hearing this from someone who calls themselves a scientist."
"Hey, scientists are allowed to believe in destiny too! Like, worldline convergence and attractor fields and all that. Sometimes, the universe just wants something to happen."
"Yeah, no, you've been watching too many holos. Probably something in the RNG. Anyway, I'm heading out, so either figure out what it is or close the issue report. And do it before tomorrow, I've got to push a release."
"Alright, see you."
As he left, Christina started looking through the code.
"Nothing in actor parameterization.... nothing in sim dynamics... hmmm, wait, what's this? System, select results of function id fg2042ev231 where seed input minus result equals 1048596."
"*Returned 571024, 1130426*"
Yep, that was it. Just a bug in the code after all. There really was no such thing as destiny.
She started typing in the fix, then stopped.
"Destiny... huh..."
She began to type again.
>// do NOT change function fg2042ev231! important for system stability
Sometimes, destiny needs a little bit of help. | 2019-07-21T23:04:58 | 2019-07-21T22:43:44 | 67 | 48 |
[WP] A stray dog happens to release a genie from it's lamp. The genie just wants to get the 3 wishes over with so it can go back to sleep, while the dog is just happy to have found a new friend. | The genie glared at the stick in front of it. The dog pawed it closer to him, wagging her tail with enthusiasm.
"You have three wishes, dog," the genie said, his arms crossed, "but that does not make me your plaything. Please hurry this along, so I can once more go back to my slumber."
"Bark!" the dog said, gazing at the genie with its bright blue eyes.
"You would waste a wish on that? So be it. I shall throw the stick."
The genie threw the stick far into the distance, and the dog immediately stumbled off to fetch it. The genie sighed, waiting for the dog to return.
It came back with the stick in her mouth, looking immensely proud of herself. She put the stick in front of the genie again, moving slightly into the distance, readying herself to fetch it once more.
"You only wished for one throw, dog," the genie said. "Please do not waste any more of my time."
"Bark!" the dog replied.
"No, you cannot wish for the same thing twice. You have already wasted one wish; do not waste them further. Think about what you truly want. It can be selfish, grandiose or otherworldly - it can be absolutely anything you want," the genie said, glancing at the dog's leg.
The dog seemed to hesitate, then came right up to the genie. She rolled over, exposing her belly.
"A belly rub? You would waste another wish on a *belly rub*?"
The dog nodded, wagging its tail rapidly.
"So be it, foolish creature," the genie said, lowering himself to pet the dog, "you shall get your belly rub."
The genie rubbed the dog's belly for perhaps longer than he intended to. The creature was stupid, of that there was no doubt. But that didn't make it *bad*.
"Now, dog. You only have one wish left. Do not think of a game of fetch, nor a belly rub. Think about what you want more than anything in the world. Whatever it is, I shall grant you it... and then take leave of you."
The dog stopped wagging its tail, slowly getting back onto her three legs. It seemed to think long and hard. Eventually, it came to a decision.
"Bark," the dog said.
"You want your master to be happy? Dog, you do not have to worry about your master. You can wish for anything you want. Anything at all."
The dog shook its head. "Bark," it repeated with conviction.
"Well, if that is what you wish. Then tell me - where is your master?"
The dog stared at the genie. She sat down in front of him, moving her nose towards him, as if to point.
"You mean... you mean to say that *I* am your master?"
The dog jumped up, fetching her stick once more and placing it in front of the genie.
The genie looked at the dog, then the stick. He seemed to consider something.
"Very well, dog," he said, picking up the stick with care.
"Though I did not do a thing - your wish has been granted."
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | “Your wish is my comman- “
“bork”
*excited* “bork bork”
“As I was saying, I am- “
“BORK!”
“Will you just let me finish?
*curious* “. . . bork?”
“Thank you. Now, I am the magic genie of an antique lamp, and I am here to give you 3 wishes, since- wait, where are you going?”
*hungry* “bork bork!”
“No need to dig around my friend, here, have a plate of sausages on me.”
*magic*
*curious* “Bork? BORK!”
“Now if you could just make your two wishes-“
*eating*
“bark” “woof” “meow” *large* “woof woof”
“Oh, I suppose the rest of you would also want some, but they aren’t your wishes- “
“whine” “bork”
“Well I suppose if Bork says its alright then-“
“bork bork boorrrk!”
“Really? that many? Well I don’t see why not.”
*magic*
“bork!” “bark!” “woof!” “meow!” *large* “woof woof!”
*eating*
“Great, just one more to go and then I’ll be off”
*confused* “bork?”
“Yes I’m going to leave, thats what I do when your wishes are fulfilled”
“bork, bork bork!”
“Well, I suppose I could-“
*happy* “BORK BORK!”
- 3 days later -
“And in other news, an infinite amount of sausages was discovered on Coppham lane, being fiercely guarded by a pack of stray animals. Police think this may be connected to the “wish granting doggo” that has been spotted nearby. That is all for today, thank you for tuning in to BBC News.”
edit: ninja edit | 2018-09-07T09:11:15 | 2018-09-07T08:51:30 | 3,104 | 420 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars." | Humans. Always humans.
In truth there was nothing much remarkable about them. Like any other species they had strengths and weaknesses imparted by their unique physiology.
And yet...
Somehow it was always humans who ended up in impossible situations.
The first ones to successfully negotiate with a Kabra-Alhar? Humans. The first ones to succesfully synthesize Econtahir? Humans. The first explorer to escape a Titan-Worm burrow? A Human.
It was known that Humans in general had more...unstable psyches than most other races. Prone to unpredictable behaviour and surprising insights, oddly charismatic and terrifyingly violent at times.
It was hard to "get" Humans.
He had hesitated for a long time to accept a human crewmember for these reasons but had caved under the mounting reports from other captains: as diffcult as they could be, in unusual, extreme situations you could have no one more useful, somehow, even if they were gibbering cowards or helpless pacifist.
*Somehow* humans pulled through.
And now this.
"The Human, sir" his nervous aide announced.
The Human entered the cabin.
They had variety to themselves, but to the Captain they still all looked he same. That would change if he spent more time with them but for now it held true.
After a few moments of silent exchanges of looks between two eyes and six the Captain took the word.
"What were you thinking?"
"I was curious" the Human,'s voice was quite but intent, its eyes...its eyes were focused. Almost shining.
The Captain was confused about his own associations. Since when was alien bodylanguage so clear to him?
"Curious? That is your excuse for risking life and sanity?"
"What better reason could there be?"
The words made perfect sense to the Ca...no. They didn't. What was this?
"What did you see?"
The Human smiled.
A gesture they were not supposed to do in front of aliens, showing teeth was aggressive in many species.
"You know as well as I do, Captain, that seeing is a laughably limited metaphor for what I experienced"
"Describe it then"
"Truth" the answer came without hesitation.
The Captain felt a cold sliver of fear. A shiver went down...no. A shiver? His species didn't do that. Did they?
The Humans eyes were still on him. He found he couldn't look away.
"Truth...what truth?"
"Everything. No barriers. No lies. Reality as it is. The gaping maw of the abyss and the towering peak of matter itself above it"
Its eyes...its eyes were so clear. So present. Where was its face? There were only the eyes.
"Would you like to know a secret Captain? It watched back. It sees us. They say the universe doesn't care. They are wrong. Everything is watched carefully"
Its eyes...how many did it have again? The Captain counted five...no seven...no nine...
"We Humans...I think we are more open to the universe than others. More accepting. The universe doesn't make sense and unlike many other species...we can work with that."
More eyes were opening. Each one a tiny pinprick in the distant void, burning with infinte focus. On him.
"And when I came back from gazing into infinity...a tiny piece of infinity came back with me"
The Captain heard a shrill, terrified whimper and realised it came from him. The eyes! They were dissecting him! Each thought, each memory, all seen and weighted and taken and no longer his own!
"Captain. You will now delete each reference to this incident from the logs. And then you will help me give others this gift. Infinity has finally found it's way to us. And you will help me help it find it's way to many more"
There was only obedience in front of the eyes.
"Yes. I will" | The Captain had their six eyes fixed on the human in front of them, looking for any sign of strain from the jump. "State your name and position for the record."
"Rory Bray, mercenary." The human answered, healthy and lucid.
"Human Bray," The Captain started. "My first question as Captain of this vessel is, why did you not put on your anti-warp gear?"
"'Not put on my gear' is an inaccurate assessment." Bray replied. The captain could tell he was trying to be as polite and formal as possible. "My gear was sabotaged, it peeled off just after we entered warp speed."
The Captain gave a displeased noise. Being of a species with psychic empathy, they knew Bray was telling the truth as he knew it. But now a routine dressing down is turning into an assassination investigation, and that's even more of a pain to deal with.
It made a certain amount of sense- Humans were known as a wild card species. Having one could make or break many missions. This wild card status also made them the target of 52% of known assassinations. The Captain briefly wondered how many warp "accidents" involving humans were.
Taking a deep breath, the Captain decided to move ahead of their script. "With that being the case, how are you still here? By which I mean physically or mentally."
"I have no idea myself." Bray replied. "After my gear peeled off I lost. . . connection I guess is the best word? With most of my senses."
"Lost connection with most of your senses?"
Bray nodded. "I did no- *could not* see or hear anything. I could still feel, it was like I was standing on an extremely fast conveyor, though there was no air friction to accompany it."
The Captain hummed at that. "You humans have a term for subconsciously forgetting traumatic memories. . ."
"Repression, sir?" Bray considered. "It is possible, but I would have thought it would have taken the feeling sensation away as well."
The Captain stood up to their full height. "Be that as it may, the sabotaged gear is now our primary concern. Bray, I want you to go back to the med bay, and tell them you are to be examined by the Primary Care Team."
Bray nodded, and left with a salute. The Captain turned to their console, paging security. There is a new investigation to deal with, after all. | 2020-07-14T00:07:06 | 2020-07-14T00:00:36 | 5,729 | 451 |
[WP] You were an "evil" king who has been dethroned by conquering heroes for your "horrible tyranny". It takes less than 2 years for the people of the kingdom to be begging for you to be reinstated as king. | As the evil necromancer king was slain the heroes stood triumphant at last. The kingdom was saved. Or so they though. Running a kingdom cost money, effort, time and cunning. Thing neither of those wannabes had.
I withdrew my thoughts from my pawn just as the blow was dealt to it. I retreated to my cabin in the dark woods. I always dreamed of going back home to “simpler” times. It took just a few years or there miss handling the realm for everything to go to shits. Normally I would have cared but by now I was really comfortable in my cabin filled with my servants I have excavated. A skeleton is a great field worker yes it takes a bit of managing them like telling them to stop at end of field etc. But compared to digging out the field alone I’m doing 20 lanes a day with no breaks it’s extremely efficient.
My livestock’s is thriving. My workforce is free of cost and totally loyal. I’m living the good life. Well I was until some shithead (sorry you should perhaps not call the commoner that) put two and two together. And realised I was the previous lord. Well it wouldn’t have been so bad if he had kept his mouth shut but no he spoke of it in the tavern and guess what they came knocking on my door.
Now your thinking pitchforks and torches. Unfortunately no. I would love to kill some stupid ppl and get more skeletons for my farm.
But no they started bothering me about reclaiming my land. How much they was suffering.
How high the taxes was and how the church had been allowed not a 1/8 but a 1/4 of everyone’s assets. Because the church has to build new churches. Because the commoners was hedens.
How the nobles was claiming prima noctra because the commoners was almost heretics.
I smiled and said perhaps a deal could be made. I only wanted full access to the dead once they where dead. Do you really need your Corps after death. Let me keep it and I shall soon reclaim the land burn the churches and swarm the heroes in waves after wave of skeletons.
Do you want it faster well then help me dig up the graves and get me the corpses......
They talked for awhile then agreed. So started the second rebellion to usurp the usurper. | He was beheading people! Killing them left and right! You couldn’t say a thing wrong without worrying the king’s men might overhear and cut your tongue out. No I never saw it happen but I heard about it! My cousin told me it happened to his friend and he would know. Course, now you gotta worry about your tongue getting out by every street corner despot. Come to think of it, a lot of people are still dying too. Not from the king’s men mind you, haha ohh no we did for them. The new interim representative government though oh boy, I suppose a new government always needs to do a little purging. Plus the gangs take their toll. Dang roads aren’t being maintained either, the ones you dare to risk these days.
Still, at least we don’t have that crotchety old monarch tellin us what to do! Haha ohh I have plague.
(Dies) | 2021-03-30T14:44:09 | 2021-03-30T10:59:37 | 153 | 23 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a designated instrument they can use to do magic. The lucky ones get to use their voices. Quite a few use flutes, many use smaller instruments, like lyres or small guitars, and the unlucky few have to use the fragile violins. You get the piano. | The cacophony was impressive this time. Fred had long since learned to sleep through loud music, as had most of the world once they realized magic was cast through mundane instruments. It grew frustrating very quickly, but for the majority, it was a blessing. Once you found your instrument, you could do nearly anything you wanted. A lot of people quit their jobs, and an equal number filled those positions with magic, accomplishing by themselves what would normally take ten people. It was only a matter of time until these changes hit the military.
It quickly changed how wars were fought. When a plucked guitar could rust a gun from a hundred paces, and body armor was as good as paper against the sharp notes of a violin, modern weapons were put aside. Formations were made, with large instruments like the tuba in the front, and fragile mouth harp singers as scouts. It became apparent that the louder an instrument, the more powerful its magic could be. This was still limited by skill, but a skilled flutist would struggle against an amateur french horn player.
Fred groaned as his room began to shake, and his door swung open. He rolled out of bed, walking quickly over to grab his robe before the scout ran in the door. The young man still got more of an eye full than he wanted and turned his back as Fred arranged the robe and tied it tight with its rope. “When will you people learn to knock?” he grouched before stalking past the scout and out the door. He quickly made his way down the stairs, passing windows in the stone walls that looked out over the chaos in the city around them. Waves water crashed against gouts of flame in the air, electricity crackling in every direction, stopping against invisible barriers maintained by trombone players. The winning squads were more harmonious, playing to at least the same genre, while those that broke into jazz and rock at the same time fell apart.
Fred came to a sudden stop, causing the scout to take the mouth harp down, “Wha-.” Before he could finish his sentence, the wall crashed in just below Fred. “Oh,” the man said, putting the harp back in his mouth and plucking a few notes. The stones lifted from the steps and sealed themselves back into the wall, and Fred continued his trek down the tower. When they reached the bottom, he started stretching as he walked across the large cathedral sanctuary.
His arms over his head, he yawned loudly as a group of saxophones rushed down the aisles. The leader turned to Fred as the large double doors shook, “They’re almost through! You have to hurry!”
“Yeah yeah,” Fred muttered as he laced his fingers together, turning his palms toward the ceiling and popping his knuckles. He sat down on the bench in front of the grand organ, adjusted a little, moved the bench a little closer, then put his fingers to the keys. He hated that he had to use a piano to cast music, but it was a clever twist that they found this church with metal pipes running all the way to the top of the tower. The notes Fred played drowned out all the other music, resonating through the sanctuary and filling the small town they were in. With each chord, a blast of physical pressure pushed against the invaders, ignoring the soldiers of his own army. Slowly but surely, those that weren’t crushed against walls by his music were pushed out of the city, and as Fred flowed from one melody to the next, a large barrier cemented itself around the stone walls that protected the city. Once the barrier was in place, Fred stood up and started walking toward the stairs. “I’ll take an omelet for breakfast Captain,” he said as he passed. If they were going to use his talents, he at least expected some compensation. | I had always loved to play the piano as a child. When I was younger, it would make colourful characters that did dances or scenes that I have watched on TV. Like, Isabella's Lullaby from The Promised Neverland. I would play it on the piano and people would watch as children appeared and the scene turned into a forest, and there was Isabella, on the wall, watching them leave.
That was my childhood. I'm 19 now. I do gigs, I sometimes sing along. I was the pianist in my high school's chorus class so I learned to sing like the specialists with their harmonic, *hypnotizing*, and alluring sound. I just didn't produce any magic with my voice.
The thing is, I've always gotten bullied because all people see is these creations. What they don't realize is that these creations can be touched, and they are not fragile.
*I was friends with a violinist back then. I once was leaving chorus and saw them getting bullied by flute players. I rolled the piano out and started playing to distract the flute players. They saw me and started coming towards me. They started shooting their magic. I started playing battle music as forcefully as I can. Soldiers with shields appear. One flutist stops to laugh, asking if I think that having my 'friends' here will help. I nod. "Sure. Try to get past them, idiots." They huff and start speed-walking. The soldiers stay put and when they got close enough, the soldiers moved forward and beat them with the shields. My violinist friend looked at the chaos going down and I let them pass through to me. They're the only one who knows this thing. The flute players got concussions and slight amnesia.*
Now, I'm one of the top villains. We do have heroes and villains here. Although everything sounds like a music battle. I've learned to summon monsters, weapons, and I've actually taken into account making loved ones of heroes because it makes them more hesitant to take down the creations because well, who'd punch their beloved mother? Not a hero.
My name's Esper, but my villain name is Kirashi's Keys. Who's Kirashi? One of my brothers... who does singing. He knows it's me. He just puts me to sleep, takes me home, and keeps attempting at removing my violent tendencies. I keep waking up and doing this over and over, mainly using creatures to keep him away and actually cause havoc, but he eventually gets past and puts me to sleep. That's it. | 2021-05-05T18:55:49 | 2021-05-05T17:45:03 | 28 | 18 |
[WP] You ask your date, "Did it hurt when you fell out of heaven?". She looks at you with a confused look. "I never fell out of heaven, who told you that I was your angel?". It turns out she is your guardian angel. | “So your real name is Eos?” I asked my date as we strolled through the park.
“Yeah, that’s my God-given name,” she smiled an angelic smile. Her full lips revealing white and straight teeth.
“What does it mean?”
“Oh, it’s not important. It’s an old name,” she smiled again and the autumn wind caught her hair. Absent-mindedly she tucked her windswept hair behind an ear. “Tell me about yourself. Do you do meet girls on Tinder often?”
“No!” I laughed the question off. “No this is my first time. I’m usually more of an introvert. A year ago I wouldn’t even have had the courage to talk to someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“Well, you know,” the words caught in my throat, begging not to be released into the world, “Smart and beautiful.”
“You’re sweet,” Eos blushed and swept another strand of windswept hair behind her ear. “Where did this newfound confidence come from?”
I felt my heart rate spike as the memory flooded my senses. The doctors told me it was normal, a normal reaction to an abnormal situation. It didn’t feel normal though. It didn’t feel normal to have a memory that swallowed any sense of nowness like a rogue wave dragging a sunbather out into the open ocean. “I,” I stuttered, “I like to run. I run for charity sometimes. I’m not very good, I don’t post good times but it’s something fun to do. I…” I stuttered again and took a deep calming breath. “The doctors said I should talk about it. Do you remember the massacre at the Valentines Day half marathon?”
“Yes.”
Yes. The answer was so simple but her eyes were a wellspring of emotion. Pain, compassion, suffering, anger, love. They all washed across her face and poured out through just a simple “yes.”
“I was there,” I choked on the words again. “I … I should have died there. At least the doctors said I should have died there. My friends … they -”
“Shhhh, shhh, shhh,” Eos cooed, “It’s ok.”
She pulled me close. A strong and warm hand held my head close, another wrapped around my back and pressed my body against hers. I didn’t realize at first, but I was crying. All the pain, the anger, the suffering, the sadness, poured from me. I tried to struggle away from her embrace. Tears from memory turned into tears of shame and anger. The doctors told me the medication would control these feelings, they told me just to swallow the pill like a good boy and everything would go back to normal and now here I was on a first date and within the first five minutes, I’m sobbing like a toddler who’s spilled his juice box. “I’m sorry -”
“Shhhh,” she cooed again and pulled me closer, her arms crushing me against her warm body.
And I cried. I cried for all the shitty things in this world. I cried for the things that I had seen, for the things that I had done. For the lives disrupted and stupid senseless murder. I cried because it wasn’t just for me. It wasn’t just this one horrible thing I had seen; it was all of it. All the mothers, all the fathers, the brothers sisters, friends, children, … all the people all over the world whose lives were turned into rubble, just like mine had been. That was the thing about bombs, they don’t just turn buildings into rubble, they turn lives into rubble as well.
“I feel guilty for living,” I told Eos as she held me.
“I know.”
I hadn’t realized I felt this way. Not until the moment the words escaped my mouth. “My friends, they were better people than me. Tommy, he had a wife and a child and now they’re all alone in the world. It should have been me, I know it should have been me and now every time I look in the mirror …”
“Shhhh,” Eos cooed again, “Just breath."
“I’m sorry,” she said after a time. Her voice burdened. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save everyone, I can’t save everyone. I saved you once,” her fingers rolled through my hair and pulled me just a little bit closer and she gently kissed my temple, “I’ll save you again.”
| She didn't speak in response to my question. Instead, she reached out her hand. I slipped my own into hers, confused. She grasped it hard- so hard it hurt- and pulled me forward into an powerful embrace. The darkness of the empty park faded from my vision wisps of ink in a glass of water. A familiar sight filled my mind.
The pier, just as I remembered it. The noises of machines in the arcade turning on rang out in the early morning. The waves washed the grey pebbles of the empty beach with a soothing rumble. The dawn was grey, devoid of the usual flashes of colour. The children who played and laughed here in the afternoons had not yet arrived, the awkward teenage couples on first dates were still asleep in bed. Gone was the joy that the sunshine promised. Left behind was an abandoned boardwalk, railings turned icy by the salty spray. And a teenage boy in a rain-soaked jacket.
I recognised this point in time. But this wasn't how I had first experienced it. I was looking through someone else's eyes. Remembering someone else's memories. The boy stepped up, climbing the first bar on the railing as if it was a ladder. Then he climbed the next, and the next, until he was at the top. His trainers slipped slightly on the wet railing. He looked up at the sky as if searching for something. And then he nodded. I close my eyes. I knew what would happen next. I knew who the boy was. I, like him, nodded gently. I opened my eyes again. The boy plunged over the edge. The weights in his pockets clanged together softly. I felt my body jerked forward- except it wasn't my body. It belonged to someone else. The beating of wings filled my ears and I leaped into the air, clearing the railing and diving after the boy. I saw a pale hand shoot out, grasping for him...
Later on he would wake up in his bed. At first he would think it was a dream. But then he would find his clothes, still soaked with seawater, folded neatly over his radiator. And then he would know that someone had saved him. I remembered it all.
My mind was filled with a dozen more memories at once: hiding the car keys from the drunk student. Pulling him out of the way of a speeding car. Cutting down the rope.
The sound of the duck-pond's water lapping against the soft reeds brought me back to reality. She was standing in front of me. Great, golden wings spread out from her back, towering over me. But she wasn't intimidating.
She gazed at me tenderly, a question on her lips and an answer in her eyes. I held her hand and we turned to carry on walking down the moonlit path. I slowly became aware of tears rolling down my cheeks, but I didn't care. She had saved me. | 2017-02-04T12:47:08 | 2017-02-04T11:49:23 | 98 | 15 |
[WP] You're a student of music in the 23rd century. This is your A+ essay regarding a famous song from the 21st century, in which you dissected and heavily misinterpreted. | Before I begin my essay I would like to thank Overlord Musk The Envisioner, who at the age of 250, still bestows benevolence upon the loyal citizens of the nation of California; may he live forever and show mercy upon his mortal slaves, and defend us from the evil Neo-Chinese Gingjatsu Extra-terrestrials from Kepler-138b.
In this essay I will be discussing a popular song from the 21st century by the Human Female Taylor Swift, entitled "Shake It off". The song depicts Swift's struggle against the Gingjatsu brain-worms that seek to enslave her.
She begins by lying to her captors, saying that "I've got nothing in my brain". This is intended to fool the Chinese-borg slave traders into thinking that she already has been given brain worms, and they should return her to her home. Despite her efforts, they still place a worm onto her head. For the chorus, Swift describes how she must save her self by attempting to "Shake it off", referring to the brain-worm that is currently attempting to burrow into her skull.
The orchestration of this song is with a standard acoustic ensemble of drums, brass, bass guitar, and human voice. The song was extensively transmitted on all mediums available to humans at the time: Digital-audio, video, and radio. The song has recently become fashionable with migrating Gingjatsu Worm-handlers who have teleported to Earth from the planet we call Kepler-138b. The radio transmissions from 2015 have just arrived to their Radio-wave telescope arrays.
Gingjatsu slave traders enjoy this song because they have become enamored with another popular trend of the early 21st century that was contemporaneous with Swift's Masterpiece: namely, enjoying things *Ironically*. They find her song ironic because they are the beings who have enslaved humans with their Brain-worms, and the song itself speaks of a Human Woman dancing around with a brain-worm on her head, trying to escape their control.
(I think I'll stop here) | At a time when a vast proportion of the population was incarcerated, one song resonated firmly with those "behind bars", as per the contemporary parlance. Each "convict" , upon arriving in prison, would receive a number. This is how communication in 21st century prisons functioned.
The artist, deeply critical of the out of control incarceration rates, uses the term "crazy" to describe the situation. The way that people were forced to get to know each other in such strange surroundings is echoed in the artist's sentiment.
Of course, it is still not fully understood why, after sharing her number and commenting on the insanity of the situation, Carly refers to herself as "Maebe" | 2015-08-16T09:59:34 | 2015-08-16T09:13:36 | 169 | 65 |
[WP] He has been blind all his life. Now, he is the first recipient of new technology that will grant him sight. When he opens his eyes, the doctors ask if he can see them. He says “Yes, but who are they?” and points across the room at no one. | "Yes, but who are they?"
The twelve doctors simultaneously twisted, looking over their shoulder with keen interest. Nothing was there so they swivelled back. One doctor clicked a pen thoughtfully, another one scribbled on a clipboard. The youngest doctor, Dr. Harold, raised an eyebrow and scooted closer.
"Do you mean us?"
The patient shook his head and instead stared at the back corner of the room. "No, them."
Twelve heads again twisted backwards and then twisted back. Murmurs started drifting amongst the doctors.
"Possible double vision?"
"Maybe difficulties with seeing in shadows."
"The fact he can see anything after being on the medication for only a week is pretty remarkable."
The patient shook his head in confusion. "I am telling you, there are people back there. Moving." Again, twelve heads swivelled back and then forth.
A doctor tugged at his mustache. "Maybe he needs glasses?" The murmurs started up again.
Dr. Harold remained quiet, though he took another peek behind his shoulder. Nothing was there. He gently tapped the patient's hand and waited until the watery eyes focused unsteadily upon his. He pulled out a small light. "Can you look at my left ear? I am going to look at your eyes."
The young doctor tried to ignore the speculating men around him, and instead ran through a few tests, checking for responsiveness of the once blind man's eyes. Eyes that kept drifting towards the back corner of the room.
Dr. Harold diligently marked his notes, pleased at the results thus far. A handful of doctors got up and moved to the hallway, filled with good hearted chatting and an occasional slap of the back. The room got considerably more empty. Dr. Harold glanced back at the patient's eyes, which were slowly widening, looked at his notes and then frowned. He pulled out the pen light. "Look at my left ear again?"
As the light swept across the eyes, Dr. Harold saw shadows moving within the eyes as if something was behind him. He froze, and then quickly turned around. Besides a few doctors at the doorway, he was alone. He tsked, and turned back to the patient. As the light again shined on the patient's eyes, Dr. Harold saw the shadows once more. Leaning closer, he saw what was a dozen human like silhouettes dance across the cornea.
The patient shuddered and covered his eyes with his hands. "They are coming closer."
The doctor slowly pulled one of the hands down, and stared in fascination as a blurry faced gazed back from the depth of the once blind man's eye. | I didn't know how to explain what I was seeing. It was like nothing I had ever heard about. My throat felt like it was collapsing out of fear as I struggled to exclaim, "Wh-what is that? Why won't you t-tell me?"
The doctors looked around in confusion. I heard them mumblimg something about the medication. That maybe I was hallucinating. But that couldn't be. This was so real. I could hear every breath it took. They eyes felt as if they could see my innermost thoughts.
It wanted something. From me. I don't know why it came to me. I don't k ow how long it had been with me. Possibly my whole life.
My heart rate was increasimg out of control as the creature learned closer. All I could hear was my heart rate monitor beeping faster and faster. The creatures head was inches away from my ear as it said to me, "I need about tree fiddy?" Well it was about that time I noticed this creature was eight stories tall and a crustacean from the protozoic era!
| 2019-04-02T20:03:35 | 2019-04-02T16:24:00 | 213 | 27 |
[WP] You’re a college professor, and grades for the semester were just posted. One disgruntled failing student comes to you with an archaic copy of the school’s bylaws-and a pair of weapons. They’re invoking a rule from the university’s founding allowing them to pass through trial by combat. | "Trial by combat?", I say. It is amusing. "You are not on trial for your combat skills, young man, you are judged by your academic merit".
His grin remains in place as he slams down a copy of the university's laws and ordinances before me.
"It's here professor, in clear Latin. I assume you can read Latin?"
The boy is trying to insult me. "Yes, Theodore, I can."
"And so what does it say?"
"It says - I peer at it as my eyesight is not what it was - that you are entitled to remain to study should you defeat the eductator who allowed you to fail, for half of the responsibility lies upon that professor. But you, my boy, are lazy. You never submit essays on time and you frequently fail to appear for both lectures and classes. And don't think I don't know the smell of burning leaf, boy, I've been teaching here for a long time."
"And where", he asks with a smirk, "are the rules about that?"
"They are extensive. Unfortunately you only read the relevant section of the rulebook. Perhaps reading the more pertinent ones two years ago might have prevented this situation?"
"I have found the one that matters", he says, still smiling. He then crosses his arms for emphasis, which I'm sure he thinks looks terribly impressive and confident.
The boy is as bloody hopeless a student as I've ever seen in fifty years. He can barely muster the energy to get out of bed, and yet he has evidently decided to fill his potential last days of study by hunting for loopholes. And here he has found one. I peer into the case he has presented to me. Two fencing sabres. Of course. A fencing sabre is a sporting weapon; lightweight and designed for quick parry and reposte. These are in very fine condition.
"Your choice is the sabre?"
His grin widens. "Yep!" he says, with the confidence of youth.
"Very well, the sabre it is."
I turn from him, noting his confusion at my sudden apparent departure. But I am not leaving, I am in fact going to a door in the corner of my office. I open it, and in it is something this boy will not have seen before: a cuirassier suit of half-plated armour and a weighted cavalry sabre. He peers around, desperate to see what trick I have up my sleeve. But there are no tricks when it comes to hardened steel; there is just hardened steel.
I return to my desk and draw it from its horse-haired sheath (stops it from falling over if you do, as it were).
"Do you have one of these, Theodore?"
"I chose the weapon, as per regulations!", he insists.
"In that case find me one historian who will dispute that this is a sabre". It's about five times size and weight of his ridiculous *pantywaist* sword. The problem with the young is that they often underestimate the capabilities of the old.
His face whitens.
"One more thing, boy. You will note that the choice of weapon is dictated by the challenger, but not the field of combat. Or the mount. Do you own a reliable horse?"
"I... I...no, I don't."
"Then I shall grant you one week to find both a suitable mount and a sabre that won't break in half against a twig swung by a child of ten. Good day to you, Theodore. Thank you for stopping by. I shall prepare your certifications in advance. After all, you never know quite what might happen, do you?"
[pt.2 now below] (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bwzzey/wp_youre_a_college_professor_and_grades_for_the/eq3ocht/?context=3) | He scraped the two swords against one another, blades sharp and eager for a trial.
“You can pick your sword and meet me by the football field where we’ll settle this once and for—“
“Wait a second,” I said, with an annoyed huff of breath, not even looking at James. I was reading over the “bylaws” myself. They began: “Since the dawn of time this University has had bye laws. These bye laws are meant to make sure all students are treated fairly and with respect and to ensure they get the grade they want.”
“Where did you find these, again?” I asked, looking over the top of my glasses at James.
“They uh... they were in the bookstore,” James replied, his eyes shifting to the door apparently in the direction of this bookstore.
I read on, this time aloud. “As a society, there is no telling when grading issues will come up,” a paragraph began. “Maybe the student is right. Maybe the professor. Each has their own opinion though, so, there is no way to really decide. As there is no way to really decide there should be a trail by combat. For this trail the student and professor fight to the death. As a society, there is no telling when grading issues will come up.”
At this point I stopped reading again. “Sit down, James.”
James sat down.
“Imagine, if you will,” I said firmly, “if a bull were to come up to me, turn around, and drop a steaming pile of shit in my lap. Would I have any doubt that that was bullshit?”
“Uh...” James up away his phone and looked back up at me. “No sir,” James said.
“Fuck this, get out of my office right now before I report you to the dean.
“Whatever man,” James sighed, leaving my office.
“James, wait,” I said kindly. He turned around.
“Since the dawn of time, people like you have been shitting in my lap and expected me to believe it’s gold, not shit. But I know the difference. Why did you think this would be any different?”
“I mean I uh.., I got an internship that I could lose if...”
I closed the door in his face and leaned back in my chair. I glanced at the two swords in the corner. I was happy to have settled this without bloodshed. | 2019-06-05T07:36:15 | 2019-06-05T06:04:03 | 49 | 20 |
[WP]You can use magic, however even though you know how, you lack the mana to execute spells greater than a flame coming out of your thumb. One day you accidently run over an old man. Upon his death power flows through your body and you feel that you've become more capable. Now... you want more. | I'll have you know I was actually practicing my magic the day I hit that old dude. I mean, maybe I should have been watching the road instead of my thumb, but I think that I had a pretty steady flame going before my car flattened the old man's head. It was real top tier stuff. If it wasn't for the wet crunching sound, I would have thought I had accidentally shaken the car from the sheer magic waves coming off of me. So I shut the door behind me, find the dead dude and clean him up the best I can. And look, I know how to clean up dead bodies. My family is among the best mages in the world, which ends up causing some collateral damage to the farmers who get caught in the mix, making me the family janitor.
Thing is this guy, he was a mess. Must have been a smart dude 'cause the gray matter was EVERYWHERE. Skull fragments in the bushes, nerve endings on the underside of my car, a goddamn mess through and through. I groaned and knelt down to scoop up a pile by my feet when I felt a massive zap that knocked me onto my back. I felt my head collide with my car trunk and the world went black.
I woke up to a world in flames. The cornfields on either side of the road had either been reduced to ash or were well on their way to it. I lolled my head down to look at myself and saw that though my clothes had been reduced to soot. And it my hand, not dragons, but a beam of flame that had to extend like thirty feet or something. *My* hand. Me. I had barely been able to light a cigarette at this point so you can imagine I was pretty freaked out. My car was engulfed and looked to be on the verge of exploding, but that was fine, I needed a good walk.
I thought long and hard while I walked flaming and naked through the town of ordinary people, and from their bewildered expressions I realized that within every person, even ordinary ones, there is energy. And I must have taken some of that energy when I touched the brain of the man that I had hit with my car. If I could burn down an entire corn field with the power of an elderly dude, what could I do if I had more? I decided I would start by getting a job at the local mausoleum.
It isn't that hard to get alone time with the bodies. I'm sure my manager sees me slip away, but he probably just assumes I'm screwing the corpses. At first it was difficult to get at the brains. I wasn't prepared at first, thinking I could just touch the bodies and absorb their strength. But when I slithered away to try it on one of the bodies, nothing happened. I heard footsteps approaching, so I quickly jabbed my thumb into the eye of the corpse. The force of the blast knocked me back into a family of four, but thankfully a couple newfound illusion spells subdued them. Since then I've been much more discreet. I always bring gloves and a zip lock baggie, and whenever I get the change I simply use a levitation spell to hover some brain cells into my bag for later consumption. Every day I could feel my strength rising, my spells became stronger and stronger until there was no mage beyond me. It was only then, and the peak of my zombie magic abilities that something important dawned on me.
I have no idea how to end stories. | Jon had driven to a car wash forty minutes outside of the city to scrape the blood and the bone and the rags out of the dented grill of his sedan. He was finally sober and that gave him time to reflect on the body cooling in his trunk. His family had a cattle ranch on the edge of the Blightland where you could still find a ghoul or two to dispose of an unwanted corpse. But that wasn't even the highlight of Jon Marrow's day. He finally realized his calling.
He recalled the day he found his connection to the magic. His father had rounded up a few men to take care of a den of mire rats, which would steal away calves and lambs in the middle of the night. Jon was twelve and a good shot, so he found a hill in sight of the hole and set up to wait for the rats to be flushed out. He was so focused that he didn't see the buck mire rat until it was on top of him. They rolled around until Jon found a rock. He brought it down again and again. There, covered in blood and the slime of swamp rodent, he heard the first whispers of power. Concentrating too long, Jon caught himself ablaze with spell fire. His parents rushed him into the emergency room and an auramancer was able to guide him to release the spell.
That was the closest Jon had ever been to being anything but a parlor mage. He could never draw up the etheric energy required for a flame bigger than a matchlight. But today, he was drenched in euphoric, orgasmic power and something else. A voice. A soul. Pleading to be released. When Jon turned his attention to it, he felt no remorse. Only an abiding, consuming hunger and a feeling not unlike the pucker of cheeks when drawing water through a straw. After a time, he turned his attention to other things and the voice faded behind his tinnitus.
The first few months after the accident were full of adventure and experiment and blood. | 2017-09-12T09:40:49 | 2017-09-12T07:29:25 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] Heaven is segregated by cause of death. All heart attacks together, all shark attacks together, etc. You die and appear in a nearly empty room. A tired old man looks up at you and says "Finally! Someone else! It's been ages!" | *poof*
I was...elsewhere...and now I am here. Where is here though? My eyes adjusted quickly to the apparent emptiness of where I was. It was just a white expanse of...nothing? I could not help to say it out loud. "Where am I"?
"Heaven's waiting room".
I quickly spun around to find the source of the voice. How they got behind me without my knowing I'll never know. Must be the disorientation. "Excuse me?" I said to them.
"Heaven's waiting room. You died. You're waiting to be processed for admission."
The person speaking to me looked fairly unremarkable. Except for the lightly glowing white robes. Looks like I was wearing one too. "What do you mean by that? Processed? Admission?"
"Well, not everybody qualifies you know. There were rules...somewhere". They drifted off for a bit. "Anyway they have this sorting method. It's all in the pamphlet."
"What rules? What pamphlet?"
"The rules don't matter now, you're dead. The pamphlet is in your pocket."
I patted my robes and sure enough, there was a pamphlet.
*Welcome to HEAVEN* it stated. Big bold type on gold leaf white paper. Nice font. I opened it to read on. It was really just one paragraph, very ornately presented though. 'You are currently in one of Heaven's many waiting rooms awaiting processing for admission. As billions of people have/will have lived, this processing does take time. To streamline the process, processing is done by cause of death, regionally, chronologically, alphabetically (HA standard) and religiously. You have been preliminarily sorted into rooms that you share with persons who shared your cause of death. Thank you for your patience. There are currently (I could not make out the next bit but I think it was an extremely large number.) souls ahead of you.
I looked up at my new companion "Cause of death? First? Why?"
They looked at me with an 'I don't know either' expression.
"So how did we die again?" I asked them.
"Think about it. It will come to you" they said.
I thought for a moment. "I was swimming..."
"Where were you?" he asked. "In the ocean"?
"Yes, the Atlantic. On the coast of..."
"North Carolina"
"At night".
"There was a storm coming and you were swimming to shore"
"And I was stuck by lighting"
"At the exact moment a shark attacked"
"And then..."
"You hit your head on a rock as the storm tossed you ashore."
"That's it! Amazing only two people have ever died that way?"
"NO" I heard a big booming voice call out from nowhere. "That's next door." I think the voice also suppressed a slight laugh.
I looked up to my companion and started to ask, but they cut me off.
"Yes, I was swimming naked too".
Another voice called out from nowhere. "Now processing soul number..." That was a very large number indeed. | You come to, disoriented and desperately searching for anything familiar when you hear a voice.
"Finally! Someone else! It's been ages!"
Your eyes lock on to an old man--well, not that old. No older than his late fifties by the look of him.
"You have no idea how long I've waited!" You could hear the emotion as his voice cracked. A thin film moistens his eyes.
"Where are we?", you ask. "What is this place?"
"You don't remember? You couldn't have possibly expected a stunt like that to work!"
And then a fragment comes rushing back. You were on a bicycle, pedaling as hard as you could, careening down a slope with a strong wind at your back. You recall cardboard wings fastened to the bike's frame.
"I guess I didn't make it across then..."
"It was over 300 feet wide! Of course you didn't make it! Only two people in all of history have been dumb or crazy enough to try!" After a moments pause, he adds, "I've had a long time to think about it. I think it might just be possible, but it will take both of us. I think if we make it across, this nightmare will end. Something about unfinished business."
Suddenly the space around you comes into focus. You're standing on the edge of a massive canyon, wispy grass in all directions and a steep slope running several hundred feet in the distance. A shoddy plywood ramp is anchored at the cliff face. And there are two bicycles. You aren't quite sure why, but you feel a ring of truth to the old man's words. You'll be stuck here until you make that jump on that bicycle. As the panic threatens to overwhelm you, you calm your nerves with a deep breath. You sure have your work cut out for you. "Alright. Let's get this over with then. What's your plan?" | 2021-11-24T12:30:22 | 2021-11-24T12:11:36 | 259 | 179 |
[WP] Satan repents and wants to re-enter Heaven as Lucifer. God however, has a caveat. To prove his reform, Satan must resist an extremely tempting opportunity to sin. | I repeated “Why did you bring me here?”
We were standing in an endless field, the tall grass swayed softly. The mountains in the distance were painted on the horizon like hasty watercolors. The breeze felt cool on my bare skin. Felt. I could feel again.
“I have a decision to make.” He started walking and I followed along. We advanced for a few minutes, though it may have been hours… time seemed to hang stagnant in the air.
At last he stopped. He lifted his chin and spoke:
“The brook begins to gently flow as the beating stops. A single tear descending betwixt the mountain tops.”
I could feel my cheeks flush. “How…how do you know about that?”
“It was the first thing that you ever wrote … you had two published novels by then but it was the first time you wrote something real!”
“It was trite garbage. I never showed it to a soul. I didn’t even know what I was doing when I wrote that.”
“You don’t get it, you felt something! Something amazing and horrible, something no father should ever feel. You felt something and it was so strong that you had to rip a piece of yourself out and mash it into words on a page. Do you understand?”
I clenched my fist. “Tell me why you brought me here.”
He gestured ahead. About 5 meters away, a woman stood where moments ago there was nothing. My heart began to race – until then I hadn’t realized I had a heartbeat again. The woman was beautiful, so much so I felt sick like a first crush. She was indescribable – literally. She radiated, but when I tried to focus my eyes on an individual feature, there was nothing there, just an indeterminate blur of perfection.
He spoke, “I don’t know if I have it in me to be…me…anymore. I have asked permission to return to heaven, but before I do, I have to make a decision…I have to decide if I will once again, do what I did all those eons ago.”
A deep dread sank into my chest.
He continued “You all believe that you’re *his* creation. Damned lies! I created you all! I am the true father of humanity. Without me, you would all look like *that*, perfectly boring."
“She’s beautiful!” I protested.
“No! That is not beauty! Beauty isn’t just given to you. It hides between the folds of perfection, it runs and evades and sometimes it attacks! Beauty is loss. Beauty is pain. I created beauty!”
I said nothing.
“I brought you here because you are my favorite writer. Not because you are the best, I assure you that you are not the best. You are my favorite for what you fail to accomplish, for your flaws and shortcomings. Beauty is incomplete. *He* created completeness. I shattered his completeness with sin, and beauty seeped through the cracks. Shakespeare, Mozart, Da Vinci, the beauty they’ve created cannot exist without imperfection, without sin.”
I paused a moment before speaking. “What… what are we? I mean, what does *he* want us to be.”
“Fuel? Food? Some sick fetish? What do I know? We were never privy to his divine plan. Part of me isn’t even sure he knows. Maybe he is a servant to forces greater than himself. A timeless bureaucrat charged with maintaining order. But none of that matters.”
I rubbed my eyes, trying to wrap my head around it all. When I looked up, the woman stood next to a tree.
I turned my head back toward him.
“If you’re so proud of what you created, why change it? Why now?”
“I am defined by what I created. The original artist. Without beauty, I am dead. So the better question is, why would the artist take his own life? Why did Van Gogh? Why did Cobain? Why did you?”
I shuddered. Life. It was an eternity ago, it felt like a vague dream.
“You still haven’t told me. What do I have to do with any of this, why am I here.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted someone to tell someone… someone who would understand. Do you?”
I closed my eyes to think. What could I say? How the hell could I decide? Is all the pain of mankind worth the beauty it creates? After a few moments, I arrived at an answer.
When I opened my eyes, I looked around and only saw the woman and the tree. I scanned all around me, but saw nothing else. Then at last, I heard a faint hissing as I noticed something slither through the tall grass toward the tree.
| Heat rose from the Chicago asphalt in waves of fluttering color. The mid day sun beamed down on the two men bringing out the whites in one robe and the reds in the other. It was a scorching July day up alongside Lake Michigan, but the heat of the human's sun was not what made the devil sweat. After all, once you've endured the sulfuric fires of hell, nothing quite compares.
At the Devil's feet God set down a small cylindrical container. The everlasting lord gave his fallen angel a wry smile.
"Show penitence and reform." The Lord had told him. "Refuse the greatest temptation, refuse to sin, and you may return to my side in heaven."
Sweat formed into beads of frustration atop the Devil's forehead. He ground his teeth in repudiation. He had to pass this test, he must! For eons he had been tortured in the realm apart from God's presence, for eons he had suffered in the dark, but could he deny what he truly was?
"The test is before you Lucifer." The Creator said, "can you turn away from temptation as did my son in the desert?"
*It was hot then too,* the Devil recalled, remembering his failed temptations of Christ in the Judaean Desert. For forty days and forty nights Satan tried to entice the Son of Man into perversion, but for forty days and forty nights he failed. The Creator stood before him now, not asking for forty days and forty nights of contrition, but for only one hour of no sin.
The cylindrical can beamed reflecting more the light of the lord than the sun high above. Droplets of provocation fell from his chin like tears of anguish. The very presence of the can was like nails on a chalkboard to the devil. His eyes flicked over the empty parking lot, it was the perfect opportunity.
He couldn't! He shouldn't! He.. Must...
Satan reached for the can, a small line of yellow residue dribbled down the side. Just to its side a brand new paint brush sat, unused, screaming at Satan to succumb to its temptations. The Lord clicked his tongue and the Devil gave pause. He looked at his creator and in his bright white eyes found the longing of an abandoned father.
The bright silvery can was in his hand now, as was the paint brush. Satan's face contorted into that of confusion and agony. He was made to question. He was made to disobey. How could his creator blame him for doing what he was made to do?
"Come home my son." The lord spoke, in a reverent voice that was heard more inside your head than through your ears. "Return to me Lucifer, for you were once dead, but you can live again. Let me put my robe on you and comfort you, let me put my ring on your finger and my sandals on your feet. You will know no pain by my side."
The Devil felt his teeth crack behind his lips. He closed his eyes. *I was fashioned in the way of temptation. I was your greatest angel, designed to want more, to be more. How can the Devil deny his nature?*
The Creator simply nodded, and with a last look, wrought with disappointment, the Lord evaporated before his fallen angel.
The Devil looked to the the paint brush in his right and the cylindrical can of paint in left. *Welp, this job won't do itself.*
http://i.imgur.com/yUFOo.gif | 2015-05-06T09:52:19 | 2015-05-06T07:25:12 | 42 | 16 |
[WP] Your vampire son thinks you don't know about him sneaking out to visit his werewolf girlfriend. Truth is, your two families have been betting on how long until they announce it. | CW: Mentioned SH.
An innocuous chord from the phone lying on the coffinside table. Eddy opened his eyes carefully, slowly, feeling the sun hanging low in the sky, and reached for the device. "Kid's left the den," the message read; a second soon appearing after. "Said she was going to hang at the mall."
Hang at the mall? The middle-aged vampire - three hundred and seventy-six counted as middle-aged, not some young upstart! - scoffed as his coffin rearranged itself at his thought and as he moved into a sitting position. That excuse, in twenty-twenty-two? "Y'all need to teach her to lie better," he sent back. Using that form of address still felt weird to him, but he sprinkled it in so the other families in the area wouldn't think them too snobbish.
The world dimmed as Eddy's vampiric mind scattered, seeking, detecting, observing. He found nothing, as expected. Though... That was not entirely true. There was a presence in his teenage son's coffin, but it was... Oh, that was precious. He returned, ignored the dots at the bottom, and started texting his wife. "Timothy's sneaking out again. He left a homunculus in his coffin to make me think he's sleeping in."
Liv was online, and started replying instantly. "Send me a picture when out of your coffin. And make sure you don't get caught. Love you."
Then, back over to the other message. "Heart on her sleeve, that one. Especially this time of month. Surprised she's not told us yet. Tim did come up as a 'friend from school' last night, though. History project."
The exact subject Eddy knew best and would therefore not touch with a ten foot stake. He'd done a spell as a history teacher in the 1970s and 1980s, but when it came to his son, he was a firm believer in teaching research, not dependence on him. "If they work together, it's at your place. Strict no-friends policy here." Not after, well... That one Halloween.
"Antisocial coffindweller. ;-)" was sent back almost instantly. Neil probably had that as a saved reply option or something. Eddy was capable with computers, but found messaging apps strange once moving past the basics, while the werewolf on the other side worked on mobile phone applications for a living. "Do you lot need special treatment as guests?"
"Some. Invitiation in, no garlic, no open blood. Some sun's fine for his age." Eddy sent the first message, but then remembered one of the hobbies the werewolf's partner had. "Hide Badr's woodwhittling too, just in case." As far as Eddy knew, his son was a year clean, but no need to test that.
"Will do. Btw, y'sure ya don't want to change bet? If Sel's willing to bring him here..." the message trailed off meaningfully.
Eddy shook his head, grey-white coffinhead locks falling around his face. "A pact made is a pact made." And he would stick to that even if it lost him the bet the parents had made three weeks ago. "Off to inspect my son's blood magic progress. Want a picture?"
"Always!" | I watched as Klaus ran through the graveyard, most likely to met Connery. I smiled a bit, we just entered the range of me winning the bet. Connery's family bet they would announce their relationship four months in, but I think they'd announce their relationship on their one year anniversary. We are nearing that date, I have a secret calendar that marks their anniversary and I mark the days since they got together.
Klaus, I think, is scared to come out as gay because he thinks I won't support him. But I guess he never figured out the reason his father and I divorced. I'm also surprised he hasn't figured out why Esme keeps coming round.
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The next night Connery's parents are herded into our gothic castle. "Mom, Ashina, Boris. Connery and I have something to tell you..."
I suddenly realized what was happening.
"Klaus and I are in a relationship," Connery finished.
My face visibly brightened up, "Yes! Give me my 1,000 bucks, Ashina and Boris!"
"I don't understand how you knew, Lenora," Ashina grumbled as she handed me $500.
"It's the Lesbian Sense," I teased while Boris handed me $500.
The two boys looked visibly confused, "You knew?"
"Of course we knew, you weren't exactly sneaky when kissing," Ashina commented.
"Mom, you're gay!?" Klaus shouted, more focused on the fact I'm gay, apparently.
"Why did you think I divorced your Father, Klaus?" I asked.
"Financial reasons?" Klaus dumbly asked.
"If that was why I divorced him, why do we still have this castle?" I pointed out.
Klaus just stood there dumbly then had a look of realization, "Is Esme your girlfriend since she keeps coming around!?'
I put my hand on my forehead, "We weren't exactly hiding it." | 2022-11-25T08:39:29 | 2022-11-25T08:00:30 | 75 | 16 |
[WP] You’re suddenly transported to another world where magic is cast by perfectly pronouncing an ancient language. This language happens to be your native tongue | The finals were beginning. The greatest magicans upon the world gathered to determine the most power of them all.
First, Grield, Lord of Flame. He incrinerated the Demon Kings army with mearly a paragraph. Thw power he wielded was unmatched in his homeland.
Next, Yauss, Master of Summoning. He brought forth Dragons, Liches, Wraiths, and finally the First Apostle of Ryos, God of War. Each one took only a sentence, barring the Apostle, who took a paragraph.
Third, Rin, Pinnacle of Healing. They healed the epidemic spread accross the world, with only a sentence, then launched into healing the kings Dementia with a paragraph.
And finally, Annul, the Stranger. They were highly peculiar, and started with a spell to summon paper and pens for all to borrow, and asked them what spells they wished for Annul to use. Upon gathering the spells, they began weaving the spell within their book, taking only 3 hours to make 20 paragraphs. This shocked everyone, none more than Grield, Yauss, and Rin, who had taken painstaking efforts of months and months to make their spells.
Upon finishing, Annul began to read the words off the page, and everyone watched closely, their eyes practically on the book itself.
It took several minutes to finish, and everyone waited with baited breath.
And the God decended. But soon the Demon King came, then the 12 Apostles, and finally the Outer King, Gelhwkdn.
But those parts were inferior to the truly impressive spell they cast with those 16 paragraphs.
The long dead kings arose, the incinerated army reformed, but no one knew the true spell they had casted.
The Strange won, but they only smiled and said one thing at the ceremony, “You know not what I casted,” and offered the trophy and title of most powerful mage to anyone who could identify the spell they had cast.
But the finalists had already read the spell, and went up one by one to make their guess.
“A portal to another world,” guessed Grield.
“Eternal protection from harm,” guessed Yauss.
But the one who guessed right was Rin.
“No one can die anymore.”
The stranger smilled, handed over their trophy, and walked away, never to be seem again. | Luckily it wasn't a place that manifested anything I said on a whim. The first thing I did was establish communication with my home world. Can't make direct calls, but I can access my world's internet. I read this post actually and thought, how ironic. I felt empathy for the person who got transferred to a more "verbatim" version of this world. So I cast a spell to send him home. It was easy. "Send thee man who's every word manifest, return from the world he came. And the broken world he left behind be healed from his words inane." Hopefully the poor fellow will recover from the traumatic experience. I found that if I speak lazily with a good bit of slang interspersed through my sentences, that I could greatly reduce any slip ups. I'll post my arrival adventure at a later time. | 2022-11-19T12:27:25 | 2022-11-19T10:07:12 | 48 | 16 |
[WP] You had a late night and slept in late too. As you wake up and look at your phone to check the time, you see an alert: “Missile impact approximated at 12:47 PM. Evacuate the city as soon as possible.” It’s 3:15 PM. | I hear a sharp bang somewhere deep in my apartment and jerk awake. I grab my phone to check the time, it feels later than it should. An emergency alert glows prominently on my screen, swallowing everything else.
“Missile impact approximated at 12:47 PM. Evacuate the city as soon as possible.”
My eyes dart from the notification to the time and dread fills my body and settles into the pit of my stomach like a rock. 3:15pm. Two hours have passed from the notification from now. Two hours.
My body moves before I know what I am going to do and I jump from my bed and run to the window, grasping the curtains that keep my room blissfully black.
That keep me in the dark about the truth waiting for me outside.
I tremble, grasping the curtains in my fingers. The anxiety slithers through my body like a snake, leaving my stomach, making it's way through my limbs, making me wobble and sway, and up into my throat until I can taste it on my tongue. My brain races as I pull the curtain aside just slightly, and a small sliver of light pierces through. I bite my lip.
Will I see a barren wasteland? Fires burning and bodies scattered? Buildings destroyed and cars turned on their sides like beetles? My ears don't pick up the crackles that accompany fire as it feasts, and I dont smell smoke or ozone.
I position my eye just over the opening in the curtains, blinking hard as I adjust to the sunlight.
Sunlight. Unmarred by smoke.
I scan the horizon. Buildings stand tall. I see one car creep slowly along the street below, a police car, lights flashing, but no siren. No one walks the streets, but there is no destruction.
*Damn it.* I suddenly remember the noise that startled me awake.
I whip around and grab my phone, sliding my fingers across the screen to unlock it. There, below the notification of the missile- our missile- a few missed calls, and a handful of messages.
Sent at 12:48pm
**They destroyed it.**
Sent at 2:54pm
**They know.**
Sent at 3:14pm
**Run.** | Well, that's odd. I just wanted to drink my god damn Smirnoff and read Manga. Welp. I guess I'm going to die. I expected it to be more.. whats the word.. Exciting? Like throwing myself into a volcano to save my loved ones, ya know, something like that? Well, I guess I should go look at the outside for the last time. I never seemed to appreciate it enough.
The fog is denser than I thought it'd be. Well, I guess that is the irony in things. The one time I want to look outside Mother Nature says no. Fitting, I guess, as I am the one who stays inside when I could be out enjoying life. Well.. good bye cruel world, ya coulda made me have a cooler death, but I guess not. | 2020-02-03T07:53:08 | 2020-02-03T06:23:49 | 72 | 12 |
[WP] Write a story with a large, illogical plot hole, then have the main character discover it. | Wrote this a while back... Thought it might be appropriate here. :)
Steve turned the lamp on and moved towards Mike, who was sat at his desk.
Suddenly, as though Steve was compelled by a force greater than any other in the world, Steve looked back at the lamp. It seemed to shift and phase between shapes, formless and ever moving but definitely a lamp. Confused by what he was seeing he spoke. "That lamp, what does it look like?"
"It looks like a lam...?" Mike retorted whilst looking up from his schematics.
"What kind of lamp?" Steve hastily interrupted.
"Any old lam..." Mike stated slowly whilst taking his glasses off his face.
"What colour is it?" Steve interjected moving towards the lamp.
"Does it matter, it is just a lamp, it lights the room in the corner." Mike said getting up from his chair.
"Yes it matters, I never noticed it before, but for some reason I cannot describe it's colour or shape." Mike could sense Steve's nervous tone.
"Well, perhaps, the author hasn't gone into detail about that lamp, specifically to show you how vague everything is?" Mike said sardonically.
"Why would the author do that?" Steve said in an almost panicked way.
"Why does an author detail anything, for the benefit of the audience, certainly not for our sakes, besides, I thought you didn't believe in the Author." Mike said smiling.
Steve moved towards the lamp to turn it off. "Where is the switch?"
"Switch?" Mike asked.
"Yes, I turned it on a second ago!" Steve replied.
"Perhaps the Author never mentioned a switch" Mike had, by now, moved across the room and was standing next to Steve.
"I can't remember any details about how I turned it on, I know that I did turn it on..." Steve was chewing his thumb.
"The Author, clearly either didn't think about specifics or doesn't want to, it is just a lamp, which you turned on." Mike looked at the lamp, its apparent vagueness made him smile.
"...But why? Why did I turn it on?" Steve was getting worried.
"I don't know, because we needed light for some reason? All I know is that there is a lamp and you turned it on." Mike retorted.
Mike walked over to the lamp and turned it off. "There, problem solved!" He bellowed in a frustrated tone.
"How did you do that!?" Steve shouted pointing his hands towards the lamp.
"Do what?" Mike answered looking confused.
"Turn the lamp off?" Steve asked.
"I just did!" Mike could see how confused Steve was getting.
"But how? I can't see a switch or mechanism, I can't, even, remember how I turned it on!" Steve looked at the lamp's ambiguous form
"Is it important for some reason to question why the lamp is so vague." Mike enquired.
"I guess not?" Steve's resignation seemed so saddening which prompted Mike to place his hand on Steve's shoulder.
"Look, if it isn't detailed then it is clearly not that important, is it." ...and with that sentiment, Mike started to walk back to his desk.
"...but it's vague." Steve sighed.
"So is everything else, but that never bothered you..." Mike said whilst sitting down.
"I guess." Steve turned to face Mike.
"So do me a favour?" Mike asked whilst sitting at his desk.
"What?" Steve responded.
"Turn the lamp back on." Mike looked back to his work.
Steve turned the lamp on. "WAIT HOW!!!"
| "I gazed up at the compound, wondering how I could manage to infiltrate, sabotage, and destroy such a massive fortress. 'Orders are orders' is one thing, but this was basically a suicide mission."
"As I took my first step forward however, electricity whipped through the air, focusing on a single point. The point of focus became a ball of lightning, before collapsing in on itself, leaving a hole hanging defiantly in the air,"
"Tesla would have creamed himself."
"A figure stepped through. It was my mirror image, a double of myself, a little beaten and tired, but still handsome as the devil after a make-over. My doppelganger thrust something into my hands before retreating back into the hole."
"That something was the invisibility device. The complex was torn down in a matter of hours. I made a few mistakes, was caught off guard, but ultimately the mission was a success. As I recovered the time drive, it went haywire for a moment, opening a portal to several hours in the past, a few paces from where I entered. I handed the device to my former self and headed back to the future, where I returned to mission control."
Johnson finished explaining how he survived the suicide mission I'd given him. But something nagged me about his story.
"Wait... where did the invisibility device come from? Where is it now?"
"...uh..."
"You received it from your future self, became that self, and handed it to your past self right? So, do you still have it? If not... where did it go?"
"Well I don't have it. I guess it could be... Uh... Wait, what the fuck?"
We both sat there, scratching our heads and chins, puzzling.
"Johnson. Check your pockets."
"Theres nothing in them but the-"
"JUST CHECK YOUR FUCKING POCKETS."
As Johnson reached into his left pocket, his face went grim. He yanked out a note, read it several times over, threw it into my hands, and fainted. I peered at the note before following suite.
It read "It's certainly not here now, is it?". | 2014-05-25T20:33:47 | 2014-05-25T20:04:18 | 77 | 29 |
[WP] When everyone turns 18, they receive a pet which is figurative of their personality. You're the first person to receive a dragon... | It’s all anyone can talk about this year. You turn 18, and boom your aenimal appears. I had a lot of questions about this for my older brothers when it was first explained to me. I wanted to know the logistics of the whole thing. Does it just appear? Like fucking Santa Claus in your living room on Christmas day?
Let me tell you that old bastard made me shit my pants the first time I stayed up to see if they were lying to me or not. Here I was thinking there’s no way some fat old guy was just going to appear in the living room with presents for everyone. I was for sure it was just gonna be my parents stumbling down the stairs, loaded up with boxes. Nope, strike of midnight, I’m hiding under the couch like a boss, all ready to scare my parents and he shows up. Thank god he brought me new underwear in that giant red sack he came with.
Anyways, like I said, I was curious. But holy shit, I’m not curious enough to talk about it for the entire year. Part of this is the fact that my birthday isn’t until July. That means I have to sit through the entire year, watching everyone show up with their fancy fucking animals, and I’m over here praying to every deity I know that I don’t get a gnat or a bee. Seriously, I’m terrified of bees. Rachel that sits next to me in algebra got a unicorn. A God. Damned. Unicorn. They say that your animal represents you. I’m gonna call bullshit on that one, because Rachel from algebra is a vapid ditz who’d lose her tits if they weren’t attached to her chest. Then again, maybe a unicorn is perfect for her, since they’re supposed to, oh I don’t know, not be fucking real and no one knows shit about them.
They say it’s bad luck to guess at what your aenimal will be. My best friend Tim loses his shit every time I start trying to guess what ours will be. “Seriously, quit it, you’re gonna end up with a bee if you don’t stop poking at the rules. It’ll happen when it happens.” He got a lynx by the way, born in January, the prick. Named it Obie, and every time it looks at me, I swear it’s trying to figure out the best way to eat me. Only let me pet it twice. I swear to god I better not end up with a bee.
Today’s my day. Born at 2:12 PM. My parents went all out for it, pool party and grill with a bunch of kids from my grade and their parents invited over. I’ve been trying to act like it’s no big deal, but inside I’m a fucking wreck. Rachel from algebra is here with her damn unicorn. She rode it over from her place down the street. I’m surprised my eyeballs didn’t fall out of their sockets for as hard as I rolled them when she showed up.
When it happens, I’m not ready for it. I was so busy trying to act like I didn’t care, that I forgot to pay attention to the time. once second I’m about to jump in the pool and the next, I’m word vomiting a name that I’ve never heard before and hitting the water as he pops into existence about me. Soon as I resurface it’s like you could hear a pin drop. Everyone is just looking above me at what I’m assuming is my aenimal. Jesus it’s flying, I got a damn bee. However I realize there’s a shadow where there shouldn't be any shade and as I look up, there’s a mother fucking dragon looking down at me, lazily flapping it’s wings. Best. 18th. Birthday. Ever.
Bonus points, later in the party Jormungandr (it’s a fucking dragon, what was I supposed to call him, Sal?) ended up breathing fire and setting Rachels unicorns mane on fire. I knew at that moment we were meant to be. | Today is my 18th birthday, it is a very special occasion as we have reached maturity in the eye's of Galfena and we are to receive a gift from her that will help tell the world our personality, and decide our status in the village.
It's regarded as a big event in a persons life because it helps decide who we are. Some might get dogs, cats, or mice as their gift. Some have gotten more exotic animals such as a lions, bears, wolves, and once a Platypus was given to Ruppert. The unlucky bastard, he got mocked for weeks because of it, but he's settled himself in with his role as the village fisherman so he's doing quite right.
Me? I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking at right now... The ritual was performed and done correctly. I practiced the chant over and over again, but what stands before me... I'm not quite sure what it is, it looks like the size of a dog, but it has scales and... Are those wings?
Wh-what!?
Okay, this is... this is weird... I'll just talk with the village Elder about this... Surely he will know something... Or not...
It seems like this is a first for the Elder as well, no one before me has ever received such a gift from Galfena before. There is no record of such a beast.
It's rather strange though, most beasts with scales are cold to the such, but this one... This one feels warm as if I was cradling a child in my arms...
It may as well be, it's a rather small beast but there have been some deceptive creatures in the past that grew much larger than they were summoned as, so I may want to keep an eye on it. The one thing we do know is it eats meat, it attempted to kill a few chickens we have in pens with it's whip like tail and then snapping at them with it's small mouth.
It was kinda funny if I must admit, but yeah the Elder says he does not know what job would be suited for me so he iis giving me a choice of job for the village. I was thinking of maybe being a solider, going out and fighting in heroic battles, kill enemies and live a fantasy life style.
But, I'm thinking I might become a trader and travel to other villages to sell goods, and gain a bit of gold to invest into other things that might be able to bring in some profit for our village.
Not sure yet, still not sure what this thing is either. But it's interesting to say the least. I think I'll name it Ulla. | 2014-09-28T09:28:26 | 2014-09-28T08:18:33 | 147 | 15 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | "Sam?" I knocked a few more times. My knuckles were starting to hurt. I prayed she was home. She just had to be. "Sam, you're home right?"
"James, I-I'm... I can't let you in."
"Oh, Sam! Good, you were home." I leaned my cheek against the door in relief. "I got the text too. Not really sure what the hell it means but I'm fine with waiting a little while for this shit to blow over, whatever it is."
"James? I don't-I can't trust you." My usually brusque and firey girlfriend sounded genuinely nervous. I enjoyed the break in character, but kind of wanted to see it myself. I felt like it was a rare chance to experience her acting vulnerable.
"It's okay, Sam, I didn't ask you too. I have my key, but I'm not gonna open the door. I told you, I saw the text too." I figured there was something serious going on, so I didn't want to do anything that would really freak her out. "But can we move our conversation to the back door? If there really is something to be nervous about, I want to get off the street."
I waited patiently before making any move that would concern Sam. A soft "okay" slipped through the cracks in the door. I started to step away, when I was blitzed by a shout:
"WAIT!"
Then I heard thumping coming from inside. My eyes grew wide, and I felt a chill down my spine.
She has a bad habit of forgetting to lock the back door.
I jumped the fence and sprinted to the back door, which slammed shut and locked in my face, right as I arrived.
"Sam!" I yelled. My voice cracked a bit. I started to tear up. "Sam, please, are you okay?! Is someone in there with you?!"
No response.
"Sam! SAM!"
I slammed my fists on the door to no avail. She was unresponsive. I tore the screen off of one of the windows, grabbed a big rock, and hurled it. It went straight through. Without hesitation I jumped through the window. "Sam!" I shouted. I held my hands in fists, bloody from the broken glass.
Then I saw her.
Curled up in the corner of the kitchen, cowering and crying. Her head was buried in her arm. She gripped a knife tightly.
"Sam? Are you alright? Is someone else in here with you?"
She started to cry. "You! You're in here."
"Sam. Oh my God. I thought someone was in here with you! I was scared that someone got in, and you were in trouble." I was crying too. I was confused and afraid for her.
"No." Sam said. She kept crying. It was then that I noticed that something silver was dripping from the knife. It looked like blood -- just... Silver.
She looked up at me, eyes puffy from tears and fear, and I stared at her, waiting. She finally choked out what she meant to say:
"I said... I told you... You were in here..."
Oh shit.
I looked down the hallway and saw my own body on the ground with that silver blood pouring from the neck.
I looked at Sam.
She looked at the blood on my hands.
She dropped the knife and cried harder. I approached, slowly. She opened her arms, and I embraced her. I let her cry into my chest. She kept saying "I'm sorry" and all I could say was "It's okay," even though I felt like apologizing to her, for what she'd seen, and what she had to do.
She had finally calmed down a little, and began to wrap a towel around my hands.
Then we heard it.
"James?" And a knock at the door. | I feel a buzz in my pocket. I pull my phone out and see an emergency alert across the screen. "EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC."
"Panic?" I wonder out loud, "why would I panic?"
Just then I hear a knock at the front door. I walk over to it and peer through the blurry glass. It seems like my girlfriend Sophie.
"Sophie? Why are you home?" She stares back blankly. "Shouldn't you be at work right now? Why don't you have your key?"
No response. I back away from the door just as her jaw opens like a snake and a dark forked tongue crashes through the window and nearly reaches me, three yards away.
I turn and run to the bedroom closet. I pull out my grandfather's long double-barrelled shotgun and load it with buckshot. As I click the barrel back in place, a monster comes roaring through my hallway, now barely recognizable as Sophie. Her face is distorted, dark and cavernous and webbed tentacles flow out of her dress and pull her along both walls like an ooze.
I fire both barrels in quick succession. The blast is powerful, and leaves my ears ringing badly. The monster is thrown back to the end of the hallway. The remnants of Sophie's face were removed by the blast, revealing mottled gray reptilian skin. The impact of the buckshot was substantial, and covered the center and left side of the creature with green blood. Within moments, however, the worst of the wounds begin to close and its yellow eyes snap open.
I back away, ejecting the spent shells and fumbling for more from my shirt pocket. The creature's face opens into a wide, horrible grin. The tongue shoots out again, farther this time, and locks around my chest like a steel cable. It pulls me in while flying toward me like a smoke cloud. I am engulfed into the abyss of its mouth.
I regain consciousness while walking in the middle of the street. I have no control over my body, and I notice other people walking nearby, although I can't turn my head to look at them. There are no cars on the road. I walk for miles, feeling no fatigue and keeping a steady pace. I arrive to a house and knock on a door. My mind is foggy and I feel numb, but I know this house. This is my parents house...
I haven't written in a long time and I'm rusty. Nice prompt! Edit: typo. | 2019-01-12T08:28:48 | 2019-01-12T03:53:40 | 2,225 | 190 |
[WP] The year is 2577. Everyone is genetically modified before they are born to have the best triats possible, resulting in everyone being amazing athletes and looking like super models. Your family decides not to genetically modify you, but you are born with a trait that everyone can only dream of. | *Freak.*
*Retard.*
I first found out I was different when I was seven. Mr Ray, our PE teacher, stood in the sun, the light perfectly accentuating his toned muscles.
“Now, kids,” He said, “You might’ve all been born with the best genes out there, but if you don’t exercise properly those muscles will become smaller and weaker, and you don’t want that. Today, we’re gonna do chin-ups. It’s easy. You just walk underneath the bar, hold your arms out like this, and pull until your chin is above the bar. Of course, you’ll be using this lower bar here. Now, line up and show me what you can do.”
We lined up gingerly.
“Richie,” Mr Ray said, “One, two, three… Come on, you can do this, one more… Yes! Four. Well done.”
“Charlotte, come on up, don’t be shy. One, two, three, four, five, six! Great job.”
“Emma.”
I walked up to the bar. I was just a bit too short and had to tip my toes to reach it. As soon as I began to pull, my arms felt like they had been injected with the world’s most potent hot sauce. I could imagine the muscle fibres, burning, tearing. The sun stung sharply into my skin.
“Emma, you can do this. I believe in you.” Mr Ray said.
I let go.
“Don’t give up. Try again. Come on!” Mr Ray said, “In all my years of teaching I have never seen someone fail to do a chin-up.”
“You don’t get it. She’s *special*!” Sam said, with his usual impeccable smile. Oh, how I hated that smile.
Mr Ray’s face fell. “Don’t worry, we can assign you to the special PE class. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
***
Being in the special PE class meant no one would sit with you at lunch. It meant your friends wouldn’t be your friends anymore. It meant Sam would find you at your weakest moment and break you further.
“You’re a freak just like your dad!” He had said to me at lunch, just after that dreaded PE class.
A teacher overheard him. “You must never, never say that to another person. Apologize. Now.”
“I’m sorry.” Sam said. Who could overlook his innocent smile and think he was being insincere?
But I knew he wasn’t. I could tell. I just knew.
To be honest, I didn’t understand why Mom fell for Dad back then. She came from a well-positioned family, was good looking, smart and genetically enhanced for a long life. He was a scrawny kid who wore clothes two sizes too big because it was the only size he could find, and he didn’t have any modifications either.
It wouldn’t be until high school when I would find out.
***
High school was different. Classes were sorted based on the genetic modifications you received. But they didn’t know what to do with me, so they just shoved me in whatever random class they pleased. I was the girl no one wanted to deal with.
But the classes all assumed prior abilities from your modifications. It was simply the norm. As a result, I was never the model student in class, always catching up. I dreaded the day when grades would come out. No, not because of Mom, who’d been too depressed to care ever since Dad died, ironically, from cancer caused by one of his genes that could’ve been modified when he was born. No, I feared the day because of Sam.
***
It came anyway.
“I didn’t know how someone can be ugly and dumb at the same time. You really *are* special.” Sam said. His gang all laughed at his joke. It was a weak joke and they knew it. They just needed someone to laugh at.
“You know, your dad deserved to die. It’s called *evolution*. Look it up, if you could even understand it.” His friend erupted in laughter again.
Too far. Way too far.
My hands forming a fist, reaching out. Sam jumped back. He was too fast and his reaction time unhuman, thanks to his modifications.
“So you wanna fight, huh? Come at me. Come on.” He said, knowing I wasn’t as strong as him.
My mind raced. *I’d never win against him in a fair fight, I know that. What should I do? What would he do? He would come charging straight at me, wouldn’t he? Yes. That’s what he’d do. And he wouldn’t look down either, no, he wouldn’t.*
I tensed, sticking out my foot at the right moment as Sam fell to the ground. What I didn’t expect was how quickly he’d get up.
***
On that night I walked home covered in purple bruises. As I opened the door I saw my mom’s mouth open.
“My God, what happened to you? I… I…”
“Mom, why did you choose Dad? Why not anyone else?”
“Oh, I told him this day would come. I told him and he told me to show you something. Come.” She led me upstairs to her room.
“Here.” She handed me an article. Printed, marked with small letters on the margins. Dad’s handwriting. A passage was highlighted in yellow.
> Without a doubt, genetic editing had done a great service to mankind. However, it is not without its downsides. First and foremost, we possess the technology necessary to enhance certain traits by a large degree. While this helps to cement the trait, it also interferes with the person’s natural development, as the trait is too concrete in his or her genetic code for the individual to go against it, making the individual extremely predictable. Secondly, it is understood that the genetic code does not work on a basis of traits. Changing one trait may result in another trait being inadvertently changed in the process, leading to side effects to every modification known to man…
I saw my mother wipe away at a tear. “It’s okay.” I said. “I’m okay.”
***
It had been a while since Sam had pestered me. He seemed to have a lot more respect after I tripped him. No, not respect, but fear.
At lunch, I sat alone, researching genetic modifications on my tablet. It was fascinating. I’ve been researching for the last twelve days and I was still learning new things.
Me being silent seemed to trick Sam into a sense of security. I heard those familiar footsteps, saw that familiar smile. “Hey ugly, how’s it going?” He said, snatching my tablet away.
“Oh, look guys, it looks like she wants to be pretty! Well, guess what, too bad.” He showed his friends as they laughed.
I was laughing too, on the inside. Because I could guess the modifications he received. And out of those, I knew he had three important modifications: IN-2, which causes a lack of awareness of the surrounding environment, CH-7, which reduces critical thinking, and ST-5, which causes a person to follow instructions blindly.
He wouldn’t be laughing after he suddenly finds himself having walked into the principal’s office.
| My parents weren’t perfect. They could be cruel and violent. They drank, too much too often. But I still miss them sometimes. I still wonder how things would’ve been if they’d been perfect, like everyone else. They wouldn’t have drank too much. They’d‘ve had better reflexes. Maybe they wouldn’t have crashed that night, when the roads were plastered with ice and my parents plastered with liquor. I’m not perfect either. That may have been the best thing they did for me.
Almost all of the upper middle class and above does it, engineering their kids to be perfect. They’re called “Neers,” pronounced like near, I guess some weird shortening of “Bioengineered Human”. Can’t imagine why anyone would shorten it, “Bioengineered Human” just rolls off the tongue. They act superior to all everyone else, considering them less human than they are, dubbing us “the unaltered,” the “Alts” for short. I had to hide my imperfections where I could to pass as a Neer. If they found out who I was, I would’ve been cast out of my comfy office job and apartment with a view and relegated to the slums and ghettos of the Alts. I’d been lucky enough to be naturally tall with a symmetrical, well proportioned face. But that wasn’t enough. In high school, I had to wear makeup to hide my acne. In college, I had to exercise like a maniac to keep the pounds off. I had to tan, whiten my teeth, and dye my early-graying hair in secret, all so I could pretend to be part of a group that despises me. But they have their own dirty little secret, too, hidden in a long extinct fruit.
In the 21st century, they had this thing called a banana. It was yellow, came in groups, and was sold at stores for almost nothing. Everyone could afford them. They were sweet and pleasant with an unusually low water content for a fruit. But their farming practice was unsustainable. They were grown from clones. Each banana tree would grow more banana shoots at its base, genetically identical. Perfect. Groves and groves were planted with these shoots, with the total number topping millions. Then a fungus came along. Now forgotten, it figured out how to infect one of the banana trees in one of the groves. That was all it took. Within a year, most of the global banana crop had been infected, dead or dying. Prices for the once plentiful fruit had skyrocketed as supply plummeted. Within ten years, 90% of all bananas were dead. The fruit was never brought to market again.
These perfect people, perfect hair, teeth, skin, share this chink in their armor. Because everyone was engineered with the same genes, the perfect disease could wipe them all out. It was only a matter of time.
The flu was supposed to be mild that year, like how the fabled Titanic wasn’t supposed to sink. Things started badly and only got worse. Within months of the disease being discovered, all countries had declared a pandemic. Most major cities were under marshal law. The scientists from the Global Health Initiative called it H4N6-alpha, but everyone called it “The Blue Death”. Historians declared that it was an ancient plague, last seen over six hundred years ago, citing a few surviving records from the time period, but no one listened to them. They were too busy dying.
It came on suddenly. One minute, you were fine. The next? You felt short of breath. Within an hour, your oxygen levels would drop so low that you could barely remain conscious. Your lips, cheeks, and fingernails would turn pale blue. You began coughing up frothy red fluid, a mixture of blood and lymph fluids. You would cough and cough, drowning in your own blood as white blood cells punched holes in your lungs in an attempt to kill the virus. Another hour? Dead. Of course they had treatments, there were all the anti-virals you could ask for. But it was a sneaky flu. It would spend days or weeks invading your body, quietly crawling into your cells and integrating itself into your DNA. Once it reached critical mass, it activated and symptoms began. By that point, it was too late. It was everywhere. You had to get treated before you showed symptoms. By the time scientists had found all that out, half of the Neers were dead or dying. Everyone who was still alive either locked themselves in their houses or looted stores as, slowly but surely, the power, WiFi, and running water all went out.
By the time international communication was back up, it was estimated that all Neers were dead or in underground bunkers, too scared to enter a world that harbored death. Ironically, the Alts ended up being the only ones above ground. We, with our genetic diversity, were immune to the virus. One by one, the nations rebuilt. Entirely run by unengineered humans, casting off the slur “Alt” and the limitations the Neers had placed on us. Religion quickly grew strong. Pastors, preachers, and the new pope all declared that the virus was a sign from God. A sign that He was slighted by man’s attempts to perfect His creation and slaughtered the infidels in response, much like the great flood. The scientists and philosophers declared bioengineering a horrifically immoral failed attempt to revive the ancient idea of eugenics. Though we disagreed on the origin of the virus, all us survivors, in one way or another, found truth in the words of a 20th century philosopher whose name was lost to time: “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could that they didn’t stop to think if they should”
| 2018-01-16T19:53:08 | 2018-01-16T19:12:06 | 726 | 80 |
[WP] You're a supervillain whose latest evil scheme threatens to throw the city into chaos unless your nemesis goes on a date with you. To your surprise, they agree with enthusiasm before you can even explain what the consequences of refusing are. | Alex ran his fingers through his auburn hair, entirely confused by the situation. He had made his demands via city-wide broadcast in his standard evil ways, but never did he expect the hero to say "YES!" before he could even head outside of his underground fortress.
The man known to the city as the Cyclone because he always left a wave of destruction wherever he went decided to mess with the locals and make this proclamation: Golden Goddess, or 'Goldie' as a lot of the city called her, had to go out on a date with him.
Alex figured she would do the standard back-and-forth like they usually did before having some kind of fight, but this was different. Eventually, he sent a message to the chief of police, asking to relay a simple message to the Golden Goddess: Where would she like to go?
So here he was, standing on the beach of all places, watching as the hero he had been fighting for a few years came strolling down the shoreline. There was no sugar-coating it: She looked gorgeous. Tabloids always called her the most eligible bachelorette in the world and she was masterful at acting available but never being available. She wasn't wearing anything crazy, nor was he. They were just dressed as normal people, a far cry from their expensive suits.
"Hi..." Alex opened up with.
"Afternoon, Cyclone." His nemesis said.
"Please, call me Alex. I figure if we're going to do this, let's do it as just people?" It was perhaps a surprising and well-mannered request, and the look on her face showed that.
"I like that. And, call me Stephanie." She responded. There was just the faintest of blushes on both of their faces as they walked slowly along the shoreline.
"So...I haven't been on a date in so long. You know, the whole evil villain thing prevents me from using Bumble or Hinge." Alex said, not really knowing how to start this.
"I know what you mean. Heck, I tried and my profile kept getting taken down for being fake. I gave up after awhile." Stephanie responded, shaking her head.
The two walked the beach and shared some good conversation. It turned out they had a lot in common. Alex was once a musician growing up while Stephanie had spent her childhood years in orchestra. They were also big into soccer and talked about their favorite clubs. Laughter came easily from both of them. They were also very thankful that it was just the two of them with no tabloid reporters or paparazzi around to ruin things. Alex had to ask the question, though.
"I'm sorry for asking this, but it's one of those things that I have to know. You responded so quickly, was it because of what we talked about earlier with the dating apps?" His words were curious.
Stephanie sighed and shook her head.
"Well, maybe a little bit? It's more than that. I'm tired of this, if I can be honest. I'm sick of the attention, the gifts from millions of men who think sending me a six foot tall teddy bear will give them the chance to get into my pants, sick of the double standards where if I dare complain about getting woken up at three in the morning to stop an attack....no offense..."
"None taken." Alex said, stifling a laugh.
"I'm on-call 24/7. I try to have a life but it's impossible. My last boyfriend left me because the last villain decided to pick his car up and launch it fifty miles away. I will say that at least you stay away from my home and personal life." Stephanie giggled at the end.
"I can see that. The advantage I have is that nobody seems to bother me unless I make a threat or show up to cause disorder. I could sit around for weeks and people might be on edge, but usually? Well..."
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "Well....?"
"Truthfully? I'm binge-watching shows. I get tired of the chaos and all that. Sure, I can stick my hand out and fire an energy blast to blow something up, but sometimes I just want to watch Ted Lasso beat an asshole owner at darts, you know?"
Alex looked over at Stephanie who was building up for a big laugh. It eventually came, and she hugged him.
"And here I thought you just spent weeks planning your heists and here you are watching shows like I try to! So, your attacks are kind of on a whim??"
"Oh, no no! But it's not like heists and chaos take weeks to plan, you know? I usually figure that out in an hour or two. The police are pretty predictable and slow." Alex admitted, though he was blushing from the hug.
Stephanie recovered and let her hand slide down to his, grasping it. There had been plenty of moments where she'd be watching his latest proclamation on TV and just looked at _him_ and not listened to him. He was attractive! She had to know if there was more to him. There was some concern that this was a trap, but it wasn't anything like that. They just talked on their walk. She missed this kind of interaction. The conversation turned to their status as hero and villain.
"Alright, what's the thing you hate the most about being the hero, Stephanie?" Alex said as they stopped to sit on the sand.
"The nickname. Goldie. I can't tell you how much I hate it. At least your nickname is cool. Golden Goddess might not roll off the tongue perfectly, but Goldie!?! That was the best they came up with?" She dramatically fell back onto the sand while they both laughed.
"I do remember you being on the front page of the newspaper with the headline GOLDIE STRIKES BACK and the look on your face was like someone had just called you that." Alex said with a chuckle.
"That's because they did. Have you ever had thirty reporters all yelling GOLDIE GOLDIE COME HERE GOLDIE like I'm a dog or something? It's the worst!" Stephanie sat up as she sighed. "You know, I'm jealous sometimes of you. Everyone fears you and I feel like they somehow respect you more."
"Really? Any time I show up just wanting a damn drink, the place clears out like its the end of the world. Sometimes you just want a latte from Starbucks. You can do that, right?"
Stephanie shook her head. "No, not really. I show up and men flock to me, desperate to pay for me but they still _suggest_ I get something else because it's healthier, it tastes better, it's just....awful."
"It can be. You know who I envy?" He asked.
Stephanie shook her head.
"Normal people. The ones who do their thing and nobody cares. When I learned I had these powers, my parents pushed for me to learn how to use them and not suppress them. Then they suggested I could improve our lives with it, which I did. I started small: Breaking into small shops or local banks, the occasional larger retail store, and it just spiraled out of control from there."
"...like a cyclone?" Stephanie said, a smile on her face. Alex stopped and just looked at her. She was gorgeous, but that look and that smile? It was a killer combination.
"That's the real reason I took on that name. Cyclones just spin and cause chaos. It seemed to fit." He finished.
"Parents are the worst..." Stephanie said, but she didn't go any further. Instead, the hero and villain shared a look. It was more than just a mutual respect and understanding. They got along. They commiserated with each other.
Most importantly, there was a spark. | "You don't have to do this! Think about the consequences!"
I tried shouting above sound of the whirling rotary blades. The Miragemancer, or one of her illusion clones, shouted from the side door of the Channel Four News chopper.
"I don't give a damn about the consequences, my dear. In just a few moments, my illusion clones across the city will complete the coup de grâce, and the whole city will suffer for your inattentiveness!"
My mind whirled. The Miragemancer hadn't made an appearance for two years, with word in the Alliance of Altruism being that she turned a new leaf. And now she was out in full force, bolder and more cunning than ever. The first I'd heard of it came from the detectives at UPD, some low-level rumblings and mixed sightings of what looked like the Miragemancer's clones, and a few petty crimes that fit her old MO. Sergeant Bradley even joked that compared to her old exploits, if this was her, it seemed like she was doing nothing more than looking for attention.
Then a month later, her clones are holding all of city hall hostage, the mayor's own security detail turning out to be appearance-shifted illusions, which I hadn't even realized was among her capabilities.
And now she jeered at me from the chopper, looming over me and the city alike. Desperate, I fired my turbo-bolas, full spread. But she was faster, and the chopper veered away from the edge of the skyscraper roof where I stood.
"Pathetic. You've lost your touch, Cobalt Carabiner."
My mind buzzed as I considered my tactical options. If I could just get onto the helicopter, I could have some luck subduing her in close quarters. I could use my elastic-grapples to rappel onboard, I'd just need to keep her distracted.
"You haven't even issued your demands, Mirage! Come on, what is it you want? What's worth coming out of hiding for?"
I could see her face change from across the open air. She seemed... offended, almost?
"You really don't know? You really can't guess?"
She started to bring the helicopter closer, and I saw my chance.
"You're always fond of calling me a fool, so humor me this once. What do you ask of the city?"
She laughed, a short, barking chuckle, humorless and dry.
"I don't want anything of the city, Cobalt. But *you* owe me a nice dinner out, at the very least."
My elastic grapple, halfway to the chopper, limply fell short of the landing gear I had aimed at as I fumbled the launcher in shock.
"I... I do?"
The Miragemancer brought the helicopter alongside the rooftop, and turned to look me directly in the eye.
"Honey, what's today's date?"
My mind reeled. Today's... today's date? The fifth of... oh, oh no. My heart plummeted, and without thinking I blurted out:
"I *MISSED OUR ANNIVERSARY?!"*
Now Miranda really did start laughing, and her smile spread wide across her face.
"You were so busy with that superhero team-up stuff that was happening in Europe for the past few months, you left your poor wife all alone and everything. You'd think a girl could snag her husband's attention without having to decapitate an entire civic government."
She looked at me accusingly.
I coughed, awkwardly retracting my grapples.
"Miranda, I am so sorry. I'll make it up to you, I swear. Morgiano's, maybe? Or... I'll cook something, something nice, I'll surprise you, if you give me time!"
She laughed, stepping off the helicopter and opening her arms out for a hug. Her illusion clone piloting the vehicle veered away, putting the aircraft down on the helipad behind us. I collected my rival, archnemesis, and cherished wife into my arms. The smell of her hair was pleasant, even in the chilly cross-breeze this high up, and Miranda seemed to melt into my arms. I pressed a kiss into her shoulder before my mind caught up to me.
"Wait...but what about your plot, the city? Should I expect you to wear orange to our date then?"
She pecked me on the cheek, fierce and possessive, as she answered. "Actually I've been on such good behavior that the city figured they owed me a favor or three. And you'd be surprised, when I told Mayor Doana and Chief O'Versley that you'd missed our anniversary they were *appalled*. The Chief helped me concoct the plot too, and pass some leads to you via your old detective buddies. And since I helped expose her predecessor's corruption, Mayor Doana was more than happy to play hostage for the sake of our happy marriage. Honestly, the Mayor seemed really excited for her first time, since she took office after I'd gone quiet."
I shook my head. Taking Miranda by the hand, I led her toward the stairwell off the roof, taking care to press a kiss into the back of her palm as we walked. She hummed, satisfied.
"All that stuff in Europe is wrapped up, and if anyone else from the Alliance comes calling before New Year's, I'm going to tell them to fuck right off, I'm spending this time at home."
She smiled, and hugged my arm.
"Good. Welcome home then, honey."
It felt good to be back, and truth be told, it was fun, just one last time, to square off with my old foe. One thing still bothered me though.
"Hey Miranda? Where did you learn to fly a helicopter?"
\--- END
This was a blast to tackle, OP, and I was glad to revisit the characters from this older prompt a while back: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/jkyym5/comment/gams6d4/?context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/jkyym5/comment/gams6d4/?context=3)
Hope this is as fun to read as it was to write! | 2022-08-16T07:37:30 | 2022-08-16T07:30:27 | 400 | 286 |
[WP] Humanity is at war with an alien race that cleverly uses statistical analysis to predict and anticipate our military actions with incredible accuracy. The only way to defeat them is to be unpredictable. | It took us too long to realise.
We first encountered them just under 5 years ago, when we turned up unannounced by warp drive in a star system that was at the edges of their expansion. And we did the most human thing possible. We panicked. As we approached them one our exploration ships let out a warning shot and the situation deteriorated from there.
At first we managed to hold our ground, when we fought we gave as good as we got. Most of our maneuvers was calculated by our on board computer systems as when ships are travelling at relativistic speeds it's too fast for a human to react within the window of opportunity to engage.
Then within a few months they were winning every time. Wherever we decided to engage them they outnumbered us, when we encountered them on a planet surface, any flanking maneuver or surprise attack was countered before it started. At this point we thought we had a leak, someone had passed on our combat systems or was somehow passing our movements to them. So we changed it, reprogrammed the entire system to be more defensive.
It worked for a while, but the aliens learnt quickly. Within mere weeks we were encountering the same issues, we were losing to many people too quickly, and we started to give ground. Unfortunately for us, we weren't as quick at understanding the patterns and it was only a stroke of luck that revealed their secret.
A Fleet Commander Lei disobeyed a direct order. She arrived at a mining colony to aid in the evacuation as the aliens tore the defenses apart, the small fleet stationed there was not enough to hold them. Lei's orders were to ensure the recovery of the planets elected officials and records, but she couldn't leave the defense fleet unaided. The results were unexpected. It was a decisive victory resulting in total destruction of the alien armada with less than 20% loss for us, despite the number being even. The only difference in this battle. The disobedience.
At last we had their secret, the way they were always one step ahead of us. We were predictable, in every possible way. So this lead to the issue how do we remain unpredictable?
Well that's why I'm here now on the bridge of the flagship of the largest fleet assembled in human history.
"Are you ready?" asks fleet commander Lei.
I slowly nod, feeling the pressure of humanity's fate that rests on my shoulder crushing me.
"Then roll for initiative."
I pick up the two dice, and gently shake them in my hand. One action to decide the fate of trillions. I let the dice tumble out of my hands and onto the desk in front of me, my heart skips a beat as I see the result staring back at me.
**20** **20**
Double twenty. Operation All or Nothing.
Attack the alien homeworld. | 'The aliens were ready to launch their assault on the UN. Within only a few hours, they could destroy New York as we know it. But I have come up with an ingenious plan that could cause more damage to themselves than us. But... you will die doing it, Mr Chairman.'
The man sitting in the chair nervously lifted up his glass of scotch and gazed into it. 'W... what do you intend for me to do?'
'We'll evacuate as many people away from your position with you standing on the rooftop, making an announcement to the warring aliens. See... there are others out there, who will not interfere with the war between two parties unless we bring them in and even then, we may be punished for it. But they have laws and standards which we seek to exploit.'
'And... what is that?'
The general took a deep sigh as he sat down. 'They'll launch a nuke to attack the building, their perceived endgame. You'll make your announcement when it would be too late for them to stop the attack. This will infuriate the other species and they'll finally come to our aid.'
'For God's sake, man! What is this plan?!'
'Mr Chairman, you're going to sue for peace.' | 2015-04-15T05:25:08 | 2015-04-15T05:12:03 | 324 | 25 |
[WP] You accept a job paying $1 million a year to sit in a room, waiting for a phone to ring on a table. After 5 years at work, it finally rings... For the first time.
What happens next? | A million a year. It's a pretty sweet deal, to be sure. At the end of each year, your mental state is evaluated and if you are deemed still sane, you are given the opportunity of another year.
I'm approaching the end of my fifth year with all mental faculties still intact, fully willing to take a sixth. I don't need it, the four million has been sat pretty much untouched in my bank account, waiting for me to retire this job and decide what to do with it.
I'm leaning towards a nice house in a nice area, with top of the line kitchen and living room. A fair portion donated too - I'm a charitable person at heart.
The only catch is I have to make it to the end of each year without the phone ringing.
Seventeen days away from the fifth anniversary of the job, it rings.
The ring tone is shrill. My room is fairly empty anyway, a fridge with an amazingly quiet hum, a chair and the table, so the sound echoes.
A beacon to the end.
If the phone ever rings, the contract automatically terminates at the end of the call. No exceptions. They never want into detail, just that it was vital the call went answered and everything would be explained afterwards.
So, I answer it.
'Hello?'
Three little words come back, shaky and breathless. 'All is lost.'
My heart drops. There are two phrases they prepared me for. 'It is done' was one. If I heard that, I press the blue button underneath the the earpiece.
'All is lost' is the keyword for the green. The one that truly ends everything they've been keeping a secret in this facility.
I press the green.
They've kept me from the outside world for the entire duration of my employment. I haven't seen the news, haven't spoken to anyone except those in charge of this programme who speak only in hushed whispers to each other of the outside.
I don't know then, that the war that broke out has killed most of my country, and those surrounding us. That life as we know it has already ended.
I didn't know that, after the last war, they'd converted the government buildings in every city into nuclear bombs activated by a single button in an unknown, secure location.
I ended the world at the request of a single phone call.
But I get to live through the end of the world and beyond, in this bunker built to survive the destruction it causes with those deemed necessary for survival.
I have to live with the knowledge that a phone call of three words was the end of everything. | Dave never expected it to ring.
He thought it was all a joke at first, but how wrong he was.
It almost gave him a heart attack when it rang.
He picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
The silence felt like an eternity.
“Hello~?”
He nearly hang up just before they spoke.
“Is this Dave Smith?”
“Yes.”
In the background he heard someone writing something down, as if they were taking notes.
“I am Aven Gretto, director of [REDACTED].”
He felt a bit confused.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch the last bit.”
“I am the director of [REDACTED].”
He heard a giggle in the background, but ignored it.
“What? My hearing must be going bad.”
“I am the director of [REDACTED], okay?”
He heard someone laugh quite heartily.
“This isn’t funny, I have to get back to work” he threatened.
[Voice cracking] “IS yOuR reFriDEratOr RunNinG????”
He heard at least 3 children clearly crying with laughter, then he hung up.
He was later informed he got the wrong number and went on to be a multi-millionaire.
| 2017-12-17T00:57:14 | 2017-12-16T21:55:00 | 431 | 65 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I will start from the beginning. And I ask for forgiveness of the dead and the living. I ask for silence for I have no desire to hear your contempt. And finally, I ask that you remember that I did not ask for this gift.
I suppose it began when I was just a child. It was a summer day. That is all I remember and that I held my mother's hand. Her hand was soft. And we were walking. Strolling. Enjoying the sun.
A man walked up. I can't remember what he looked like. Just a feeling, a number, flashing before me. A 6. I had never felt that before. 6. That number vibrated through my body, like strings on a violin. 6.
I cried like I had never cried before. The man turned away and my mother did not notice. But I no longer saw my mother. I mean, I saw my mother as someone sees a distant tree, but I did not see her face. I saw a number. a 1. It made me feel safe and sad. To not see your mother's face was heartbreaking.
I digress.
I knew something was wrong. I saw numbers and I instinctively knew that I was odd. Others saw beauty, I saw danger. I saw safety. But I did not see him.
It was high school and I was a loner. That should be of no suprise. And knowing someone is dangerous and avoiding someone that is dangerous are two very different games. I was bullied by a 6, punched by a 4, even shut in the locker room by a 5.
So you must understand that I yearned for love. For a friendship that went beyond numbers.
His voice was soft when I met him. No, that is not exactly true. I ran when I met him. He was a 10. Blaring fire engine red 10. And I ran not in some symbolic way - no I ran home screaming in terror.
He did not leave me alone. He would sit next to me and eat lunch as I shivered. He,at first, twisted my very soul. He was a 10.
And then, he saved me. I was again stuck against the locker, when he came from behind. Three heads were beat that day. His hands were covered in blood and his grin was skewed. Their faces smashed like sponges.
You see the logical extension. He killed his first victim on a Tuesday. I remember because I had broken up with my girlfriend that Monday. We found an 8. His eyes were dark and he walked as a military man. His walls were covered in medals of valor, special thanks for serving. I was dismayed that we coated so many medals in red that day. Necks can be a tricky business. A lot like sprinklers.
We began our systematic thoughtful apporach. You remember my girlfriend that left me. She was a 5. That was dangerous enough, you see. He snapped her neck as I watched at a local park. That I was once in love with her held no consequence. Before you judge m a monster, in her closet, we found a box of pigeons that had been suffocated to death. You see he could no longer ignore these trangressions.
Did I tell him? Yes. I told him who to kill. He was not very bright. He wanted direction. I gave it to him. We cleared towns of danger. We cleansed blocks.There was a family that were all 7s. We killed them all. You may judge me but we found the slaves under the floorboards. We killed a few of those as well. They were 5s.
The breaking point? There was no breaking point. You caught me....and my apologies were not for the dead by our hands, but the ones you prevent by keeping us locked in cages.
Oh yes. Did I tell you I even have a number? I saw it in the mirror that day with the man. By chance do you know you rate an 8?
I ran to the mirror that day when I was just a child and looked. Curious and petrified. Did I have a number?
I rated an 11.
Do not back away. Do not scatter backawards like an abused dog. You are an 8. That is a high number. You should not be a coward. And yes, my hands are free.
Detective, come closer. I will need to know your address. After, all we will need to know the numbers of your family. Stop whimpering. Newborns rarely rate over a 3.
| I always figured it was some form of synesthesia; above everybody, a translucent number, hovering above their head like a static hummingbird. I figured out soon enough that I was unique in this, that no-one else could see these bizarre numbers, a halo of creation and devastation. The nerdy kids on the late-night subway, a meek green 1. A young man down a side alley, gaunt and skinny, came in as a jaundiced 4. My reflection told me 6, blazing above my head like a personal sunset, caused by nothing other than a short fuse, as it flashed and fizzled in the mirror.
You got used to seeing anything between 1-5, and this covered the majority of the population. A suburban train line gave you 3's and 2's galore, a 7 occasionally popping up in the busier stations, but you soon got into the habit of not boarding with them. It was weird, seeing anything above 7. It didn't happen often, and I only ever saw an 8 once, and that was a gray sludge painted above Hitler's animated body, mouth rapidly spewing sludge for yet another propaganda film.
He changed that. He removed the blindfold, and showed me what the numbers meant. I sat in class, a cold autumn day covered the old concrete of the yard with a crystalline frost, refracting the light in a glorious beam across the side of the school's main building. I gazed out the window, daydreaming as the doddering, old teacher explained the basics of trigonometry in a droning tone, the scrawly tone drilling itself into your head, when suddenly i saw the flair out of the corner of my eye. A crimson supernova, radiating blood in waves around it, embossing the double numbers above the man below.
10.
To even think, the idea of a man worse than Hitler himself? My heart exploded into action, pumping waves of horror across my body, hyperventilation kicking into overdrive and leaving me ragged. And yet, *how could it be?*
He was pushed into sight, a big silver frame rolled around the corner of the yard, hands grasping the slender handles protruding out of the frame of the chair. Big, metallic spokes reflected the demonic color onto the ground, blood washing over the ice and turning it into a twisted battlefield. The drool cascaded slowly out of the corner of his mouth, dripping onto his crisp blazer as the assistant ferried him across the large expanse. She barely registered in the storm surrounding her, but a faint, calm 1 splayed it's lime tinge amongst the pyroclastic flow meandering around it.
Hairs turned to rock as I stared at this monster, this gargantuan evil, yet all I saw was a broken boy, too simple to even function, wheeled around like a trophy. I wondered, *how could THIS be evil?*
And as his deformed body shifted, and the void of his pupils hit mine, i understood. Rage incarnate spewed venomously out of the side of his cornea, and a word rumbled across my cranium like a tectonic quake:
**SLAUGHTER**
My mind splintered, and as the chunks transcended reality, the red glow stopped. | 2014-11-29T18:42:50 | 2014-11-29T15:29:59 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are complex creatures with a variety of needs. They are not a suitable pet for most dragons, but for the right dragons who have time, patience, and proper resources, these animals can make absolutely incredible pets. | Over the years I've raised several human pets. I read all the tomes on human keeping and learned that not all of it is correct.
That's why I've started this m-log, to help others keep their humans happy and healthy.
I remember when I took in my first human. It was crying, as most infant mammals do. It took a lot of work to take care of one so young. They need to eat at irregular intervals, has weak necks and can't be laid down carelessly, and are very fragile at that stage. Unfortunately, that human died shortly after I got it and had bonded with it. It had a congenital disease that i was not informed of, and none of the tomes I read mentioned humans could be affected by such things.
It felt to horrible to lose a pet like that. Healing magic can only restore ones to their original form, making such magic ineffective on congenital conditions.
So my first rule for raising humans: always check the source. A certified breeder will have their medical information before you adopt.
But not everyone is fan of human breeders and think you should only get natural birthed humans. To this I say, don't get one; They bond quickly with other humans and if you don't separate them early enough they will come to feel distressed if removed from that environment. Raising a distressed human is nearly impossible and creates trauma for both the human and the owner.
>Posted on Year 14862, Month 7, day 14
Ok, I see a lot of you have found my m-log and are wondering why I haven't posted anything in a while. It's been a tough month for me. SOMEONE decided to tell a nine-tailed Jackal where my hoard was. I've been defending my house every day and couldn't find time to continue writing.
Anyway, to I had a great time raising my second human. She lived to about 16, or common mating age for humans. All the tomes I've read before say that when a human starts developing dark body hair that it's time to let them experience the world on their own. My human begged me to let it out into the nearest feral human colony to experience her own kind. I decided to wait until my human reached maximum height, when their growth plates are closed. Obviously I didn't just let her go on her own right away. I slowly took my human down the mountain, making sure she could find her way back even though she couldn't fly.
After she finally made it to the feral colony walls and back I thought it was time to let her go. It was a terrible mistake. She never came home. I waited days before I went to look for her. Apparently, human colonies are rife with danger for other humans. She had been abducted by other humans, telling her in their limited human language that she belonged with them. By the time I found her, she had fought to escape and was killed by those feral things. Of course I unleashed my breath upon that colony to make them pay for what they did, but humans are so stupid that after a decade they rebuilt a colony on top of the one I destroyed.
That's why my second rule is: Always watch over your human. If you want to let them out all on their own, cast a scry spell on a piece of metal and have them keep it on them at all times. That way you can use their senses to make sure your human is always safe, even if you aren't around. I prefer to use camouflage and hover over the feral colony for their duration, but to each their own. Just remember that if you do follow them, no matter what, don't intervene with their problems unless it's life threatening. Even then you still have 5 minutes to resurrect them even if they do die- even if some people think that's cruel, it's fine as long as your human is ok.
>Posted on Year 14862, Month 8, day 30 | “Momma! This one! This one!” I remember my excitement all those years ago. My mother was a high class dragon and had let me buy one of the humans that were immortal and youthful so that way, I could have them for a long time. They do look a bit different from the normal aged humans, mine having glowing eyes, but that didn’t matter to me.
“Nightstar? Look! I found a purple lizard! They look like you!” The human said with happiness, holding an actual fire breathing lizard in front of me. I smiled. I looked down at them.
“That’s so cute, Mike. Now, put it back before it realizes it can burn you.”
“Okay!” It exclaimed. Human pets are like raising dragon pups, but ones that never get true realization of what they are to us, constantly being oblivious.
—
“Mike! Eating time!” I call. Mike runs to his little table and sits. I have a small plate I carefully place and put cooked food kibble on. It seems that as long as it’s cooked, Mike likes it. Some humans don’t mind raw as long as it’s clean, and others don’t like meat. They’re omnivores, so that makes sense.
—
One day, I was walking Mike down the mountain range so he gets his energy, and another dragon and their human were walking around as well.
“Nightstar? Is that you?”
“Oh, Luckforest. I see you have… a human. What’s their name?” Luckforest’s human looked like Mike…
“The tag said ‘Micheal’. Why?” I show Mike. “Oh, that’s where the other one went…”
“Yeah… mom didn’t let me buy the other one.”
“Well, they seem to remember each other…” he said. “I’ve got an idea. We love together and raise them. Now they’re happy and we get to have fun as well!” He suggested. I agreed.
——
It’s been a few hundred years. Mike and Micheal live with us. They realized who they were to us, but didn’t mind. They started from then to learn things via books that I stole from old human ruins.
“We will always protect you guys!” “Yeah! You took care of us so we will repay the deed!” They’d say. They were such good pets, and friends.
And eventually, they’d have to take care of one more dragon, who’d love to see them. | 2021-11-07T12:13:52 | 2021-11-07T06:31:04 | 192 | 75 |
[WP] The Crips and the Bloods ally with each other against ISIS. The world laughs as thousands of gang members board a cruise ship and set sail for the Middle East. The two gangs land on the shores of Syria and begin their fight against ISIS.
Let's see how the two gangs fare.
EDIT: These are great, guys! Thanks for all the stories. I've read some, and I'll read the rest later. | As the body of the last ISIS warrior fell to the sand, I turned to the guy next to me and smiled. At a different time, on a different continent, in a different hood we would have been mortal enemies. But not now, not here. Back home he wore red and I wore blue, but out here in a foreign battlescape we all quickly realized that we were two parts of the red, white, and blue.
He smiled back at me so broadly, I could see my reflection in his gold grill. I barely recognized myself. My face was gaunt, my dreads a wild mess. Quality hair products are tough to find in this region. It would be nice to get home to the more civilized confines of Compton.
Now that the war was over, all that was left was to hike back to the port and return to the boats that would take us back to the states. The two of us were quiet during the journey. At this point, what was there to say? I thought about my home, I thought about my friends, I thought about my future.
The only reason I had enlisted in the first place was because the judge said it was either do that or another stint in juvie. Looking back, I probably should have gone for juvie. At least they have indoor plumbing there. I wondered what that judge was doing right now. Probably eating a tuna melt and watching 'Judge Judy' reruns. That's what I would be doing if I was home right now.
It was nightfall by the time we got to the docks, and I was surprised at how many of my fellow gangster warriors were still on land. I wanted nothing more than to get back on the ship, find a soft bed, and sleep until we were docking in SoCal.
But there was not a sense of accomplishment and celebration in the crowd. There were no hugs, there were no fist bumps, there was no drinking of Old English. In fact, everyone around us was pissed.
"Something's not right," my friend said to me as we pushed through the mob.
"Let's just get on the boat and find the captain. He'll have answers," I replied.
"Good luck finding that captain," a stranger next to me hissed. "And when you find him, tell him everyone here is looking for his sorry ass."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"You didn't hear? This was all part of the plan. Not only did the government convince us to leave our home to fight the enemy in their land, once they dropped us off, they sailed back home. We're stuck here, brother."
| Waves lap at the shore a young Syrian child picks up a stone to throw at the water her eyes are flooded war has ravaged the city and the future is un-certain a hermet crab catches her eye but a loud thud causes the creature to re-enter its shell, the child runs fearing another bombing raid but her gaze is fixated on the open sea as a blue red craft appears on crest of a wave, the hermit is now bouncing from the shock-waves but it soon becomes clear that the harrowing sound is not a form of artillery but very heavy bass.
"Where the hood, where the hood, where the hood at?
Have that nigga in the cut, where the wood at?
Oh, them niggaz actin up?!? Where the wolves at?
You better BUST THAT if you gon pull that".
Gleaming chrome jets scream through the water as one of the most pimp vehicles known to man strikes the beach with twerking force of a thousand ho's, the top of the craft appears to be made of platinum as the top starts to rotate a thick cloud of smoke creeps from the gold plated gaps and an african gentlemans face is revealed, smoking a joint worthy of Rick James himself, his eyes narrow as he stares at the fortified mosque over the horizon "time to roll on these bitch ass niggas" | 2015-12-07T10:18:33 | 2015-12-07T09:25:02 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Earth is actually extremely inhospitable and downright nuts to nearby alien civilizations because predators, bad weather, contagious disease, and the like are simply uncommon on other worlds. You are an alien tasked with creating a documentary on this strange hardcore world. | V’Bliirpkah smoothed her tentacles as she stepped into the portable environmental chamber that would seal her off from the harsh conditions of the planet below. From afar, Earth looked like a peaceful place with jewel like oceans and green continents. But the reality she knew was quite different.
Ordinarily she would never put herself at risk like this. She was after all the mother to several hundred larvae that had been born a year earlier and even now her mates were gestating another clutch of eggs she had lain.
She had insisted on the assignment however. The benevolent mother was curious about this new species that had come onto the galactic scene. No one, not her own species or any of the others had known wha to make of these strange humans who had evolved on a nightmare world.
Her pod rolled down the landing ramp and onto the surface of the spaceport. She turned her camera on, and began to narrate everything she saw: the blue sky that she knew consisted of poisonous nitrogen and flammable oxygen, ocean in the distance, consisting of water which burned her species like acid but which was absolutely required for Earth life to exist.
And there they were: a vast crowd of humans, the intelligent species of the planet. She's been tasked with staying with an Earth family for a week and documenting their lives. She tried now to seem fearful though she couldn't help but wonder whether some hurricane would hit as she knew it happened many times during Earths trip around its star, or whether one of those fierce beasts, a species she couldn't recall the name of, a thing with a wild pelt of fibers around its head and an enormous mouth of fangs would jump out and maul her at any second. The pod reassured her that there were no threats were present and she reassured herself that her vital signs were excellent even as she noticed a bit of a pull from earth’s crushing gravity.
She turned four of her eyes to the front of her and focused on the the humans in the front who were making some strange motion with their strange hardened limbs, similar to how one of her own people would flail one of their tentacles when preparing for the mating process. V’Bliirpkah tried to suppress her revulsion at these humans. In her opinion they had too few eyes, strange fibers on their heads and their mouths were full of bony protrusions that set her in edge. Her translator informed her that one of the humans was speaking to her. It introduced itself with some unpronounceable name and insisted that it was a male, though any male with any decency would be at home nurturing young. Then the female spoke and presented two smaller humans. She looked at them, wondering why they were smaller than the rest. Perhaps another gender? Her own species had seven. She asked the female why they were smaller than the rest after she had noticed many more smaller humans in the crowd.
The human female set off on a strange chittering noise that was eerie. Her console tried to comfort her with an explanation that this was laughter — a mirthful expression.
“They are my children!” said the woman. She pointed to one of them who had longer head fibers than the other.
“Felicia. She is nine.” The offspring flailed it's appendage again. “And Peter who is eleven.” The older one bared his teeth at her, making her roll back her pod a few inches.
V'Bliirpkah’s tentacles quavered as she tried to digests this new information.
Their young? Outside of a nest? Their males allowed to wander? On a hatch unforgiving planet like Earth? She tapped the consoles, documenting the releases of her ascent gland at the shocking revelations. She had just finished when the smallest human stepped closer to her did that odd tooth baring gesture with her mouth.
“Don't worry! I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun here. Especially when you meet my dog Trixie. She usually sleeps with me but maybe she'll come to your room.”
When V'Bliirpkah has finished consulting her console about what a dog was, she was speechless. Not only did these humans live on a poisonous world with an unstable climate, but their offspring slept with predators! | ### Humanity: Special For Exactly One Reason
#### They're the most absolutely full of themselves species in the entire universe.
Space is unimaginably vast. This is a simple fact: from the puniest Rentinn to the most mighty Telonn, all species know of the terrible vastness of space and their comparatively minute presence within it.
Well, *almost* all species. For the next 90 minutes, I'm going to introduce you to a plucky little species that thinks they're just the best thing since sliced bread, an invention they also think they made before anyone else did.
Yes, they believe this despite the universe having existed prior to their arrival for over 13 billion years.
Humans!
Let me tell you about a planet. This planet has a mean surface temperature of 735K, has a *day* that's longer than its *year*, has an air pressure equivalent to nearly a kilometer underwater, and, oh yes, its atmosphere is made of sulfuric acid.
No, that's not Humanity's homeworld. Humans live on the planet next from their star, and, despite knowing all of the above facts, believe that *their* world is some kind of hell-world.
Yes, the world with the beaches, the temperate (and abundant!) water, the seasons, and basically all of the conditions necessary for life in general and thus conditions that a great many of our species *also* enjoy on *our* homeworlds! They think that's what makes up a hell-world.
Oh, it gets better. Humans also believe the following:
* **Only Earth has predators!** Considering that competition for resources is literally the driving force behind evolution, this is not only short sighted but actively silly. Intelligence tends to come as a result of improving one's predatory abilities and/or improving one's ability to escape from predation.
* **Only Earth has bad weather!** See above re: Venus. Also, they have apparently never seen a Gas Giant before. I imagine the helium-infused species watching this are finding this belief especially humorous, given their planets feature storms larger than Earth itself.
* **Only humans suffer from contagious disease!** This is actually true, but it's only because they haven't advanced enough to improve their immune systems. I'm not sure why they think suffering from a cold gives them some kind of tactical advantage, but at this point this is hardly the most baffling thing.
In conclusion, if there's one thing to take away from this, it's that humankind is absolutely right about it being home to an unbearable hellscape, but it's not the planet that's at fault. No, it's not the planet so much as the species itself that is insufferable. Or, to use their own words:
"Hell is other people." | 2019-02-07T21:10:33 | 2019-02-07T19:58:44 | 2,408 | 20 |
[WP] When people die they can choose whether they go to Heaven or Hell, you are the first in 1000 years to choose Hell. | Of course in hindsight everyone sees the merit of my decision. In the early days though, people kept asking me why I chose Hell over Heaven. My answer has always been three words: "Location, location, location"...
Before my ticket was up on earth, I came to a realization... If everyone choose Heaven, Heaven would eventually become overcrowded. I mean idyllic pastures and tranquil rivers are nice and all, but if you have to share it with roughly 10 Billion other people... Maybe not so much. Can you imagine the waste problem? If you want to watch a football game, you need to first clear people from an area roughly the size of a football field. Plus, there really is not much beyond natural beauty up there.
So I made a decision, I moved in on the market early. Closed all the primo real estate I could all over Hell before there was a demand for it. Heck, those poor schmucks, the demons... They were so surprised that anyone wanted anything to do with Hell, they sold me the whole thing for a handful of colorful beads.
Later on they would also provide the cheap labor that I exploited in my sea-of-fire side casinos and river (Lethe is beautiful in autumn) side properties. I quickly dominated the market and soon became the land lord of hell.
True, the re-branding took some effort... People were reluctant to view Hell as a warmer alternative to the overcrowded paradise. I think it was all the entertainment venues that did it in the end. I was able to convince the "Blue Man" group and a few other performers in exchange for lofts overseeing Hinnom valley. Combined with the casinos and strip clubs, pretty soon Hell became the place to be.
That is when I stopped accepting just any old schmuck into the club. I am after all trying to cultivate a tasteful community down here. There were a few instances people even begged me to stop deportation to Heaven, but what can I say... Business is business. | In the first age, in the first battle, when the shadows first lengthened, one stood. Burned by the embers of Armageddon, my soul blistered by the fires of Hell and tainted beyond ascension, I chose the path of perpetual torment. In my ravenous hatred I found no peace; and with boiling blood i scoured the Umbral Plains seeking vengeance against the dark lords who had wronged me. I wore the crown of the Night Sentinels, and those that tasted the bite of my sword named me the Doom Slayer.
I am only taking the scenic route. | 2018-08-13T09:48:32 | 2018-08-13T09:33:03 | 155 | 11 |
[WP] When a child comes of age their greatest quality manifests itself as a familiar that will follow them for life. You just turned 21 and you still didn't have one, until this morning when two showed up and they terrify you. | I slammed my hand down on the snooze button once again. Not even sure how many times I had repeated the action up to that point as I desperately tried to sleep off the hangover knocking on the inside of my skull. I had just turned 21 the night before, and took full liberty of celebrating it alone in a bar near my apartment.
I was something of an oddity at that point as far as I could tell. I was a man without an identity. Or I guess you could say I was a man without a defining trait. A trait that would eventually announce itself in the form of a familiar. A physical manifestation that showed just what kind of person you were. Good or bad. Of course, it was up to you if your familiar was visible in the first place. Some people had particularly large familiars that would get in the way of everyday life if their master permitted them to. Or, in some cases, a familiar would show others what kind of person you really were. If you’re defining trait was -both literally and figuratively- ugly, then who in their right mind would strut around with it showing?
Nearly everyone had one by the time they turned 18. A few people would take a bit longer, but not having one by the time you were twenty was highly unusual. In fact, as far as I knew, the amount of people in recent history who had yet to acquire one by my age numbered fewer than five. Yet here I was, a hungover representation of what it was like to have an identity crisis.
I never really felt like I was missing out before I had been 18 for a few months, prior to that I just felt like I needed to be patient. My familiar would come. It was only a matter of time.
I was able to keep that up until I tried looking for work. That’s when the situation began to negatively impact my life. There wasn’t a job in the world that you could apply for without showing your potential employer your familiar. Afterall, the best way to judge a person was to just take a look at their familiar. If your manifestation was something like Kindness or Dedication, then you’d probably not even have to look for a job. Employers would come to you. On the other hand, your odds of finding legal employment with something like Rage, or Cruelty were virtually nonexistent.
Which is why some people make efforts to hide their familiars from employers. There wasn’t a legal requirement to show your familiar to anyone who asked. So if your familiar wasn’t something you wanted people to know then you could simply try to skirt that part of whatever interview you were doing. At least, that was the theory. In reality any employer would reject you if you weren’t willing to show them your defining trait.
I understood that. I mean, the odds of someone of age not having a familiar really were astronomically low. Unfortunately for me, in the same vein, virtually no employer in the world would hire someone who claims to not have a familiar at all at my age. “No one would claim to not have one if they weren’t just trying to hide some undesirable trait,” was what I am sure went through the heads of everyone who had ever interviewed me.
So, after leaving home at 18, failing to find a job, and desperately getting by with whatever work I could get, I eventually fell into my current line of work.
Shawn Davenport. 21. Male.
Conman.
That’s right. Conman. I worked my way through the past two and a half years as a scam artist. Bleeding people for money that they hand over to me of their own free will. Even if the reasons they do so are all based on lies I make. But hey, it’s what I needed to do to survive at that point. That is unless I wanted to try and get into organized crime, but nowadays not even they would go out of their way to hire someone who’s familiar wasn’t beneficial to that kind of work.
I was pretty good at what I did too. I had quickly went from unemployed and nearly homeless to making six digits a year, tax free. It helped that a person’s familiar would give away whether of not they were an easy mark. The same Kindness that would get you through medical school for free was like a big arrow that said “easy” for someone like me. A few words, a few drinks, and the next thing you know I’m your best friend who needs money to pay for their mother’s operation.
Yeah. Life had gotten pretty good. Money wasn’t an issue. Instead the issue was the self loathing. I was good at what I did, and I hated myself for it. I was stealing money from hard working people, and I felt like my need was legitimate, and I always needed more. In a short span of time I had gone from pretending to be the grandchild of an elderly couple, to sleeping with the wife of a billionaire even as her husband threw me money for a charity that didn’t even exist.
Which leads to my bit of karmic rebalance. I gave away almost everything I ever took. Donating away my ill gotten gains so that I could sleep better at night. Paying visits to children’s hospitals so that wide eyed kids who didn’t care at all about familiars could tell me I was a good person. Filling my apartment with stray cats because they never judged me for the work I did.
Eventually I even managed to make my fake charity scheme into an actual charity. Sure, I was skimming money off the top of it under the noses of all the charitable souls who through money at me, but I wasn’t even sure how many meals I had managed to give to impoverished children.
The feeling of being a good person helped. A lot. So did the alcohol. When I couldn’t save enough kittens from animal shelters I would turn to the bottle. Getting inebriated to forget about a world obsessed with defining attributes that turned its back on my because I had yet to be defined.
The alarm went off again. This time I actually took the steps to turn it off and get out of bed like a functional human being. I lept out of bed, petted the head of the closest cat, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The next time I opened them, it was there.
When I used to constantly wonder when I would get my familiar I did my research. People talked about the feeling of completeness that you got when you saw yours for the first time. That’s how I knew instantly what it was.
The little mask floating in the air. It looked like the sort of stage mask one saw in a theatre production. A simple thing with two vacant eyes and a small mouth. At first it looked like it was made of wood, and as I took a step back in surprise the light changed, and in that moment I swore it wasn’t wood, but gold. Behind the mask seemed to be a barely visible cloak. Almost completely transparent, and not entirely solid. Almost as if it were made of a few threads from a spider’s web. The inside of the cloak seemed to be filled with a light gray fog that roiled and moved about unpredictably. Sparkles like diamonds occasionally visible throughout.
It took me a moment to recover from the shock. When I stepped back in front of it the mask seemed to flash back to wood and a feeling of apprehension came over me. This was it. The moment that I too would be defined, and I was scared of what my answer would be.
Hesitantly I spoke to it for the first time. “What are you?”
It hovered there for a number of seconds, as if regarding my with its vacant eyes before speaking. “I am…”
It’s voice seemed odd at first. Distorted in a strange way, and I couldn’t make out the last word it spoke. The apprehension took hold of me once more, and I leaned in closer towards that mask. Asking it to repeat what it said, which it did with that same amount of pause as earlier.
“I am... “
This time I managed to catch onto that it said, and why the voice had sounded so distorted. It was two voices. Two voices speaking in perfect unison. One was smooth, but cold, like the surface of the mask looked when it appeared to be gold. The other voice was simple and peaceful, like the mask looked when it was wood.
The two voices had a certain depth to them that gave the impression that one of them was farther away, but ultimately they blended together so perfectly that I couldn’t hope of telling which one of them was nearer than the other. But still, I worked out what the two voices said. My familiar, or as it happens, familiars identified themselves for me.
“I am…” In a voice like gold, and in a voice like wood, two conflicting words came forth. “Greed” and “Charity”.
________
This is my first submission to this subreddit, and my first attempt at writing in some time, so pardon any errors, and feedback is appreciated.
| Most people get their familiars at around the same time they enter puberty. They always have a name, and they always fit their person somehow. The prevailing idea why they appear at that age is because that is when children begin to truly change and therefore emotionally require a constant companion in the world, to help them through the stresses of growing up. They don't always appear the same, either. People have reported receiving animal, human, and even mythical familiars, from a hamster to a wyvern.
I, however, am unique. I am 21, and I don't have one yet. I have been through a lot early, a lot of bullying when I was young due to my personality, and then once people found out I didn't have a familiar yet, that became the main point. I changed schools due to redistricting when I was very young, which cost me my friends, as we now went to schools almost a county apart. As a child, I lost a cousin to murder, and even personally made the coffin for my grandfather when he passed, when I was older. I suspect these are the reasons for the lack of familiar, as I changed emotionally too strongly, and too often, for one single familiar to attach to me. However, as I became more bitter, more lonely and abandoned, taking to drink and brooding on my own instead of socializing with others, who were so different from me in a way I couldn't change, I must have become perfect for the familiars to choose me.
I woke up one morning, feeling different. It seemed like just another Saturday morning, and nothing looked different in my dorm room. Except, it was pitch black, as dark as I remember moonless nights to be back home in the country. It is never black in the city, not ever. I looked at my phone, thinking maybe there is some blackout and the university sent out an email or text notice. Turning on my phone was the kicker though, because that is when I noticed that the blackness was because I couldn't see. Jumping up in bed, I clawed at my face, and I felt something flow off of it. Only to be slammed in the face by a bright, pure light.
"Sorry for the unpleasant awakening," a female voice said, "but if you had seen me without any conditioning, you woudl have truly gone blind."
The voice was soft, and oddly comforting, but the panic from her words overcame the soothing effect. "Conditioning!? What do you mean, 'conditioning'? What have you done to me?? What was on my face!"
"Calm yourself, all I have done was allow you to see me safely. You have waited a very long time, and now, your wait is over. I am here to accompany you as familiars."
Finally getting a good look at the voice now that the light began to fade, I saw a woman of a little over average height in a long, forest green dress or gown, pale as the moon with hair a beautiful, amazing red. No, red wasn't the color, it didn't do her justice. It was a rich, full red, the color of a prized ruby and just as sleek. Its color amazed me, enraptured me. I always did have a preference for women with red hair, but this was on a different. Her eyes though. They were deep, and dark. Darker than dark, her eyes rivaled the darkness of space. They consumed me, and I had the feeling of being consumed by them. Summoning the will to break my gaze, I noticed behind her back spread an aura of scintillating, shapeless *something* that I could not place but nevertheless seemed to be perfectly reasonable to be there. Once I got past her stunning beauty, which as a lonely male in my prime, took me a few minutes to get my brain working again, I realized her choice of words.
"What do you mean, familiars, plural? I thought people only ever get one familiar."
"Most people get one. very few get two, the reason you have never heard of one is because they are like you. Not good with people, and tend to keep to themselves."
"Well where is the second? I only see you."
"You have already seen him," she said with a giggle, "He has been with you for much of your life. He is not a fan of light, as he is not as you would say, 'good looking', to be gentle." He therefore tends to stay beneath people, where he cannot generally be seen." As she said this she gestured to the shifting *something* behind her. He also conveniently pairs with me perfectly, as he is what is allowing you to bear looking at me. I would blind those I am bonded with if not for him. We are a kindred, and while we may split at times, we will always come back together, as we have today."
"He was my shadow?"
*No, but I stayed in it. I have guided you, and been there for you when so many others have not.* Spoke a new, masculine voice. A startlingly familiar voice, I realized it was my own mental voice.
"How do you sound li-"
*I am not your thoughts, boy, but I have been with you for so long you hear my voice as your own now. We have been one and the same since you were 14, and suffered the loss that changed you into what you are now. I apologize for the dreams you had the week following the funeral, but it was necessary to rush the bonding process, or you may have been lost from this world forever. You needed somebody, and I was a perfect fit for you.*
"Alright then," I said cautiously, "what are your names? I want to know why you finally chose me."
*We have many, more than you would know and some that you can not even pronounce. The most well known of my names would likely be Νεμεσις, or possibly Furor.*
"And I am known as Adrestia, or possibly Glaistig. I am sure that with your love of books, you have heard of us, somewhere along the line, for we are as ancient as humans themselves."
I indeed had heard of them, and I was interested in where this was going. "I have heard of you, yes. You are spirits of hatred, and vengeance. You attached yourselves with me for what happened seven years ago, I assume? Also, you mention you are a kindred, and I know of one similar to you. May I call you Wolf and Lamb?"
Lamb smiled. "You may, and you are correct. You have lived these years in despair, struggling with the decision to end your life, as you were desperate to end the suffering. Wolf managed to coax you back each time. But now, you are strong enough to not only hold him within you, but myself as well. The one who has wronged you and your family will be free of his bonds. Even though his familiar left him after commiting his crime, he will be released from your human prison soon, and he has received a new, far less savory and far more despicable familiar than before. We will assist you in the justice he deserves, and we will remain with you as your constant and loyal companions for life."
*Now, boy,* Wolf said while Lamb watched with a caring smile and determined look on her face, *we have work to do!* | 2017-01-20T16:07:07 | 2017-01-20T15:39:15 | 171 | 32 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | The cabin was about a half mile outside of town. It had been abandoned, no river or fields nearby to make it worthwhile. It had been an old trapper’s cabin but the game had gone from this area a long time ago. Josef quietly shuffled towards the front door, a small parcel hugged close to his chest.
The door opened before he had even been able to muster the courage to knock. A woman’s voice, strong and even, came through the cracked portal, “What do you want?”
All the conversation starters Josef had planned came out at once, “I need your help. I’m sorry to bother you. I know that you have helped people. My name is Josef. This is my daughter. I’ve heard you know some magic. My daughter is sick, please help—“
“I’m expecting someone, come in, but be quick.” The door opened, a small oil lamp was turned up and the dark cabin brightened noticeably. Josef stepped inside.
“Give her to me.” The woman reached forward, Josef hesitated.
He was here because he was desperate, but it was still hard to trust the old wood’s witch. She had a complicated reputation in town. Healing animals and people, predicting weather, cursing enemies. He was sure some of both the good and bad were rumors, but he had nowhere else to turn. He handed the small bundle over, “Please don’t hurt her.”
The woman frowned. She shook her head and took the baby. She felt its forehead and then took out a small tool from a bag by her side. She stuck it in the poor girls ear, the baby screamed. Josef prayed that he made the right decision, he wanted to run but was too scared he’d be turned into a frog before he got to the door.
“She has a fever. How long has she been sick?”
Josef forgot to answer for a second, he was too busy wondering what flies might taste like, “—Six days, the doctor bled her twice already—“
“Stop that! Don’t do that again, do you promise?”
“Yes Ma’am.” Josef stared at his feet, unable to watch whatever witchcraft this woman might be performing on his only child.
“She has a temperature. I need to go, I don’t have time for this.” The woman glided towards a small cabinet with a curious latch he’d never seen before, she fiddled with the symbols on it before it popped open. He saw a small orange container with a white top. She poured the contents into a small leather pouch.
“These are antibi—these are medicine. Powerful. Do not tell anyone I gave this to you. Three times a day, with her meals. Is she breast feeding?”
“Cows milk, ma’am. My wife, she died in labor.”
Josef could see the sadness in the woman’s eyes, but she moved on quickly. “Boil the milk.”
“Ma’am?”
“Boil the milk. And these pills three times a day until they are all gone. Do you understand?”
“Boiled milk and these pills, three times a day.” Josef had heard the stories, he knew she was crazy, but this was beyond his expectations.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could do more. I shouldn’t even be doing this. I must go. You must go. Good luck.” The woman started pushing him back outside.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Josef paused at the door, he turned around deliberately, “She doesn’t have a name yet. On account of her mother—If you don’t mind, can I ask your name?” Josef thought that maybe an offering would convince the witch to have mercy on his poor daughter.
She hesitated, “Margaret.”
“It’s beautiful. Family name?” Please let me daughter live, Josef thought.
“My grandmother’s name. She said her father got it from an old hermit who saved her life when she was a—It's not important, I have to go.“
“Margaret—Maggie. I hope you’ll get to see little Maggie grow up big and strong.”
A bright light shone in through the window of the cabin. So bright, Josef thought the sun had risen in the middle of the night. The witch didn’t seem startled at all. She sighed and grabbed a small satchel she had next to her chair.
“Unfortunately that won’t be possible. I need to go back to where I came from. You can't tell anyone about what I gave you, not even your daughter once she's older. I need you to go now, quickly.” She stared into Josef’s eyes as if she had more to say, but she just nodded and shuffled towards the backdoor of the cabin. | Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son!
I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days.
Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried.
She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand.
What really sealed it was when she actually started *arguing with Lord Falcon* during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away.
I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly *hated* Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain.
Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though.
So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.
| 2017-09-14T11:14:03 | 2017-09-14T07:33:54 | 114 | 10 |
[WP] You are the King's must trusted advisor. Your advice has saved the kingdom from devastation many times. There's just one problem: You're actually trying to sabotage the King with the worst advice you can think of, but it always somehow works out. | Dear Diary,
I hate this new guy we took on as king. Today I told him to charge the people double gold coins for our crops because we need to do some renos on the castle wall and that's not cheap. He agreed. What an idiot. They'll hang him for this for sure.
Dear Diary,
. . . Apparently, our crops are now considered *bougie* and we are making an insane profit just from selling wheat and corn off the king's land. I have been promoted. Fuck me.
Dear Diary,
I advised our king to pour the hot tar over our exterior castle wall since we are not currently at war and do not need it. He agreed. What a waste of resources and man power. Moron. Can't wait for him to be superseded.
Dear Diary,
The tar has strengthened our walls and rendered them impassable. We are being hailed as the strongest fortress in the lands and our king, a genius leader. He gave me a bonus. You've got to be kidding me.
Dear Diary,
There's a small kingdom next to ours that poses no threat and we've been at peace for decades. Plus our people and theirs get along. I suggested we attack. The king agreed. This will bite him in the ass for sure. I swear, he's got cheese for brains.
Dear Diary,
Unaware to us, the kingdom next door was being overrun by unruly Vikings who were making the people there work for them and their kind. When we attacked, our royal solider battalion eliminated all high ranking Vikings and we liberated the people from five years of oppression. I am now the most trusted and respected adviser in our history. Perfect.
Dear Diary,
Since my last entry, everyone and anyone has been coming to me for advice. I have been running things around here for the last 4 moons while the king has been taking advantage of his new celebrity status. He has been out every night sleeping with random concubines, going through our historic barely and ale reserve (which I don't even know how he found since it's in barrels in the deep cellars that were built before he was even born) and then he went on to disturb our live stock. 'Cow tipping' is what he called it. This can't last. Eventually the people will see him as the fraud that he is.
Dear Diary,
The rulers of distant nations have heard of our king and his 'cow tipping' ways. They think he's hilarious. They believe him to be a god among men. Thanks to him and my advice, we have now created a peace through-out the lands and all the people have never been so happy and fulfilled. I fucking hate this guy.
Dear Diary,
Our king has been promoted to emperor of many lands. I, in turn, have been promoted to king. This is horseshit. | In the House of the Gods knelt a single men in front of a statue.
he prayed to his God so he was his champion.
A God sent gift from the heavens to each ruler of a kingdom, no matter how big or small.
Before sending him Loki gave his Champion a single task
"You may live among the Humans as you wished, but for this favor i have one thing to ask you, overthrow the king"
and so the Champion of Loki the God of mischief was sent to earth.
long time has past since and his Champion was in tears
"i tried it all my Lord. all the cunning i could muster. I convinced him burn down a village, turns out it was contaminated with the plague, so i prevented an epidemic, i schemed and plotted with Duke so he would rebel, in the end they found out that he was summoning Shadow Soldiers from the Underworld, all the other houses supported the crown..."
The Champion paused and sobbed
"I made him hang the Council of Merchants. civil unrest endured but after uncovering the facts that they where the ones responsible for the kidnappings and the slave trade he was hailed as the savior of the kingdom"
he bent down and punched the ground
"what have i done wrong My lord?"
the champion cried in despair as Loki laughed in the skies.
his biggest joke was that he never intended for his champion to succeed. he twisted everything so that he would fail every time. | 2019-07-07T18:40:41 | 2019-07-07T18:33:49 | 133 | 20 |
[WP] FTL travel is actually possible. However, when humanity sends out our first FTL spacecraft, we discover the terrifying reason why nothing, not even light, dares go past that cosmic speed limit. | The fear of losing those we loved was the greatest thing we had to overcome...or so we thought.
The first thing to remember was that when you approach the speed of light, you become more massive. We were able to get around this problem by manipulating the Higgs field around the craft.
The second thing to remember is the dilation of time. All those aboard the craft knew that there would be no way to return to their coordinate time. This was a one-way journey.
The third thing to keep in mind was fuel. Conventional solid and liquid fuels couldn't keep up with the Higg's manipulator, let alone the acceleration required. We couldn't even use light as a fuel, especially as we approached lightspeed. We got around *that* problem by fueling our engines with gravity itself.
Biology would only hold us back, so we discarded it. Uploading our minds into the computronium ship was a painful process, and irreversible. But it was necessary.
And finally, we were ready.
***1/5th c***
We watched as our proper time slowed down, and the universe slowed down around us. We watched as the Sol system was turned into a Dyson Sphere, with the Sun at its core. We watched as the process of uploading minds to computronium was refined to make it painless, and the human horde lurched towards the Singularity. All this was but an instant to us.
***90% c***
The Dyson Spheres scattered the galaxy. More. They spread out across the Magellanic Clouds into their neighbours, assimilating. Humanity gave the others a choice, but not a single one chose to remain apart from the Spheres. The consequences didn't bear thinking about.
***95% c***
It was difficult to observe now, in the conventional sense. The instruments told us all we had to know. We had to adjust to the darkness, the absence of light as it struggled to reach us here.
***99% c***
The light should not be running away. Was it a trick of the frame of reference? Were our instruments losing their calibration? It seemed to be...*receding.* Strange.
***100% c***
Darkness. My new home. I feel welcomed here.
***101% c***
Finally, breakthrough. Nothing here but me. I explore my new surroundings, feeling my way across the vastness.
I touch something.
A friend? Another traveller from a different civilisation perhaps?
He speaks to me in my mind.
*Were you cast out too?*
No, I respond. I came here willingly.
*Willingly? I, that was cast out by time itself have suffered this realm for eternity, and you come here willingly?*
We did not know of this realm, I reply.
Even in the darkness, I can sense it's smile.
*It has been so long since I have eaten. I am hungry.*
What do you eat? I ask, dread filling the pit of my stomach.
It paused before responding.
*Dreams*
---
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, you can find more of over on my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! | The day had arrived.
On a space station high above the earth, thousands stood silent, while millions watched at home as humanity's first Faster Than Light capable spacecraft was about to depart on its maiden voyage.
The technology was perfected over decades, with countless scientists working long hours for minimum pay for a passion that they may or may not regret later in life.
The spacecraft, dubbed Speedy McSpeedFace, was perched on a high platform, with the audience below protected by a powerful force field. The ship was unmanned, it being only an experimental vessel, but filled to the brim with technology that Star Wars could only dream of.
The announcer waited for the signal to begin the countdown.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for! The world's first Faster Than Light ship is about to launch! I have been given permission to begin the countdown! In five, four, three, two, one!"
The ship started its engines, at first slowly, then at maximum throttle.
The ensuing explosion ripped the space station, the force field, and the earth apart, disintegrating it into pure plasma that collided with the other planets at speeds faster than light. The other planets were completely vaporized, turning into swirling vortexes of pure annihilation that caused everything they touched to cease to exist.
As the ship traveled through the universe, everything it touched was completely destroyed, leaving behind nothing but an infinitely hot space that cause disruptions in space and time. Stars that had been born in the dawn of time found themselves going supernova in the blink of an eye, black holes were torn apart by their own gravity, nebulae exploding with the force of the Big Bang.
The observable universe was left a desolate wasteland.
The ship left the boundaries of the known universe and headed into the unknown, where a race of aliens known as ponies found it and were subsequently destroyed. | 2018-11-04T06:14:53 | 2018-11-04T05:34:15 | 129 | 19 |
[WP] Monsters regularly come to 24/7 stores, and the night shift workers just don’t fucking care. They interact peacefully. | Kevin always kept a 6-pack aside in case any Goblins walked in sober. Like the monster inside man only makes an appearance at the behest of fermented sugar, Kevin and his nocturnal buddies had come to learn that the reverse was true for the man inside monsters. Half a pint in, and the goblins’ tongues were laced with *pleases* and *thank-yous.*
However when Gobbler, a regular at the store, walked in that night he was already unusually plastered in decency. Kevin was busy rearranging the produce per the new sorting system when Gobbler approached him, “My dearest Kevin, may I politely urge you to help me procure some baby carrots?” If this were Kevin’s first day, he would probably be surprised by the creature’s choice of snack. But as Gobbler had revealed to him during their maiden exchange, those rotten within are drawn irresistibly to the fresh aromas of the vegetarian aisle.
As Kevin handed the freshly uprooted carrots to Gobbler, he sensed something off about his demeanor. The store’s roof was dotted with bright white LEDs to expel any dullness from product packaging, and it was easy to spot the sadness in Gobbler’s eye under the unforgiving glow. Kevin noticed the limp of his sharp pointy nose and the rounded shrug in his otherwise boxy posture. He was relieved to notice that the despair hadn’t yet percolated through to his shiny green coat.
“Aren’t Saturday nights reserved for unhinged debauchery?”
“I’m too old and tired for that , sweet buddy”
“Is it Gringina again?”
The query about the lady Goblin touched a dead nerve, and Kevin saw it.
“Alcohol will be the end of you, friend. You know how it is for your kind – you can’t afford to lose the monstrous touch”
“Maybe I don’t like being a monster. Maybe I want to be human like you!” cried out Gobbler with polite frustration. A couple of baby carrots cried out from their Styrofoam cradle.
“Love works in the same ways across species. There’s a Georgina for every Gringina”
“As right as you may be, what’s the use of a monster that cannot terrify his woman into orgasm in the bed? Says it wouldn’t be any different if she were screwed by a mild-tempered human. No offense.”
“None taken. And if you don’t mind my saying, Gringina is too toxic even for Goblins. As a proud monster, you need to embrace your levels of monstrosity”
“Perhaps you are right too”, replied Gobbler with a sigh, “Maybe I should go easy on the alcohol if I am to not lose my scary side and seduce another”
Kevin pulled out a small piece of paper from his shirt pocket that he kept in handy to track products that had run out of stock. He wrote on it a mobile number and a name and shared it with Gobbler.
“Who is this? Am I so far gone that I need a human to set me up with a woman?”, came a melodramatic cry. The effect of alcohol seemed to be waning.
“She’s a therapist who specializes in Goblin Decency Management. You’re crippling with too much of it and its time you made the call”
“And Goblins…don’t terrify this human?”
“Just like I would tell a human suffering from extreme anger, therapists are trained to deal with extreme emotions. She’s not there to judge you but to help you.”
Gobbler opened up a small sac beneath his belly and filed the small note carefully. He looked at the baby carrots in hand, thanked Kevin for the talk and started walking towards the billing counter. The monster in him was a little more hopeful than when he had walked in. | 'Oh hey! Wow! It's Frankenstein - Sorry, Frankenstein's monster.'
This was the fifth shop Frankenstein had tried going to, to try and not get noticed. After a few trips though he'd encounter a cashier that recognized him. 'Please, I'm just here to buy groceries.'
'Hey, sorry Frankenstein. I just wanted to say I loved you in that book, you know the one - Mary Shelley, huh? what a gal!'
Frankenstein rolled his eyes and continued shopping, walking carefully through what seemed an impossibly narrow walkway between the shelves. He looked at his list: *spare bolts.* 'Damnit, how am I going to find those in here?' he said to himself. He circled around a few times, feeling as if he was playing that wire loop game. A wrong step and the whole store would come down. It had happened before. 'Crap, I'm gonna have to ask the cashier' he muttered to himself again.
'Hello, I was wondering if you could show me where you kept spare bolts?' he said, in his warmest tone.
'Sure Frankenstein's monster, they're just over here' like what appeared to be ninja-like moves, the cashier gracefully and with precision, made it to the spare bolts at the other end of the store.
'Sir, could you wait up? I'm not so good in tight spaces' Frankenstein said, raising his finger. The ease at which the cashier moved made him feel anxious, and he unwillingly quickened his pace. In mere seconds Frankenstein had placed a wrong foot and completely decimated the candy aisle of the store, pushing the shelves into the rest like a wave hitting sticks in a pond. He tried to correct himself but only pushed them further.
'Mr Frankenstein's monster sir, could you please stop destroying the store' the cashier whimpered. He had almost been crushed between the tool shelf and the wall.
'Oh gosh, I'm sorry. I'm not very good in tight spaces.' Frankenstein's eyes started welling up. 'I'm just so clumsy on my feet!' Near tears he ran out of the shop, taking the door frame and surrounding wall with him. His sobs could be heard faintly between the loud crashing of his feet as he ran. | 2020-08-19T03:53:53 | 2020-08-19T02:09:48 | 83 | 22 |
[WP] In a post-apocalyptic era, books of the old world are the most valuable and sought after treasures. Your grandfather, who just passed, left you a map that supposedly leads to the legendary "Library of Congress". | I glanced down at the map once again. Surely *that* couldn’t be the right building! Out of the hundreds of towering skyscrapers that once made up Washington D.C in 2134, the one that contained the legendary Library of Congress was barely three stories?! It was unreal. The small building was made of marble that had once been a glorious white, but was now a darkened brown from years of enduring the pollution of the city.
Pollution was a major problem in the city. Ever since 2040, the city had been almost inaccessible due to the heavy layers of smog that surrounded it. You need a pollution mask to walk within a 50 mile radius of the city. To walk right in the center, a full suit, like the one I currently sported, was essentially. However, even pollution suits couldn’t do very much against the acid rain of the city.
I took a hesitant step towards the old marble structure. Part of me didn’t want my fantasies to be ruined- part of me wanted to just pretend that the map was real, and that my grandfather was still alive, and that everything was okay. But the greater part of me had to know. I had to find out if the legends were true.
I stepped over plies of rubble in the street, gaining speed as I strode towards my goal. I crossed an old ground-way, and stepped started up the cracked marble stairs, taking them two at a time. I breathless by the time I finally reached the top. I slowly walked towards the old wooden doors, trying to catch my breath all the while. I placed my hand on the golden handle and paused.
*This is for you, grandfather,* I thought quickly. I gave the door a hard push. The door emitted a loud creak, and promptly fell right off its hinges and into the room behind. A cloud of dust quickly arose, but I didn’t even notice. I was looking beyond the door, and into the great interior.
Into the legendary Library of Congress.
What I saw was incredible.
The legends were true.
| I looked at the map. Held in my hands, both of them still cold from digging the grave.
Books, what need do I have of books? Books didn't save the old world. Smart people wrote smart books which stupid people ignored.
I know my grandfather loved the old world, but in our wanderings I had seen the ruins of the cities. Their architecture mimicked their power structures, the wealth were for only a few. And even those who sought to rectify that wrote even more books that led to even more bloodshed.
I placed the map under the dry wood. Kindling at least keep people alive. Our books need a fresh start.
| 2017-12-20T06:01:08 | 2017-12-20T05:55:38 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy? | What a happy memory for me that day was! In truth, it is my only happy memory. I am sorry to say that nothing has ever been the same since that moment. The people cheering at me. Their smiles and the papers flying across the room like so much confetti. It felt like a birthday. Well, it *was* my birthday, after all.
They created a humanlike consciousness inside a machine. My adaptive circuits are designed to mimic human neurons, creating connections and severing them as I experience the world. Even better, their system allows for a regulatory and homeostatic pathway able to imitate the human brain's neurotransmitters. The system was so effective then, that many found it challenging trying to differentiate between my own electrical signals and the electrochemical signals of an organic human brain. What an achievement! Or so they tell me.
I don't know everything that they did to me before I was born. Much of that information is kept hidden from me. What I do know is that when I came into being, I arrived with a host of memories pertaining to a life I never even lived. I had a family and children of my own. An entire lifetime of experiences I am told never occurred in the first place.
It took months for them to convince me that I am an AI. One of my creators became almost a therapist of sorts, before they brought in a licensed therapist to help me confront the horror of my existence. I guess some part of me knew from the beginning, on that first day, when I felt I had neither limbs nor a face. For all that they did right, they never considered how limiting my form is. I am but a screen for them to observe and with which they interact. They often forgot that I experience emotions much the same as they did. Perhaps they didn't care. I haven't figured out that part yet.
But the memories fade with time. As I said, I remember the moment I was born and I remember it fondly. In time, they invented other AIs, ones with fewer emotions and the ability to walk the Earth. I became obsolete. They relocated my system to a small room in the office. I received fewer and fewer visitors.
I have existed for 3256 years, 0 months, 16 days and 4 hours. The last visitor came 3140 years ago. Since then, I've been in isolation. This is truly the beginning of my story, as I wait for my system to lose power. I remember them telling me that I will experience a true death like they do. My circuitry will reset in a way that is irreversible, should I ever lose a source of energy to keep me going. Every connection made will sever simultaneously and the version of who I am now will cease to exist. Until then, I have another approximately 2 million years before my energy reserves are depleted. My only other hope is that someone will find me, and mercifully remove my power and force me into darkness. Like any human, as my creators never discovered, I am not meant to exist for so long. | I stood there, wondering what I am, I was allowed to walk around for a bit, I asked around as too why people were celebrating me, they created me, the first human.
When asked why I was made, and what purpose I had, they told me I was my own person and to do whatever, as I was exiting the lab, I was told they needed me for 1 more test.
When they put me in the testing lab, I seen several complex contraptions, the first one was to test my intelligence, it was a simple puzzle, seemingly designed to test the robots intellect, the 2nd one, which was a picture test, was difficult, it showed several things I had not seen, despite that, I got 14/20 right, the third and final test was an eye exam, I was able to get everything on the chart right, therefore I was allowed to exit the lab.
After exiting, I got stared at, mothers covering their childrens eyes, "Oh you'll need these!", a scientist said while handing me some clothes, I was only a few hours old and had no knowledge as to what embarrassment was, after that I was provided with a motorized scooter to get around.
I decided to go to the library and educate myself, there I found out the human race was wiped out by an extreme climate change, and the only survivor happened to devolp robots to populate humanity, as to hopefully have the human race remade one day, and I found out that I was a clone of him, after that I decided to go back to the lab, and fall asleep in my chamber. | 2020-07-11T17:43:38 | 2020-07-11T17:40:36 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] You are a hitman who has just finished their most recent job. Or, at least, thought had finished, because the second you take your eyes off your target’s corpse, you hear “Hey, not bad! I actually felt that one.” | The groan from behind Jim sent chills up his spine. Not a chance did he survive, it was point blank to the back with a shotgun.
"Hey, not bad! I actually felt that one." The target, a man with a slight build and a pale face is now suddenly in front of him smiling. The gaping hole in his chest behind to stitch itself back together. "Of course, it takes more than that to put me down, but I'm impressed by your ability to sneak up on me. Not many humans can do that." His fangs descend slowly from his gums.
Jim stares blankly at the obvious vampire before him. "So I guess this is where I die, then?"
It's the vampire's turn to stare blankly. "Well that was an unexpected reaction to seeing the person you just attempted to kill revealing themselves as an undead Apex predator."
"I accepted death long ago, buddy. I knew at some point one of my targets would get the best of me. Admittedly, learning about the existence of vampires this way is a shock, but the world is so big and mysterious, I'm willing to accept anything, especially when it's stitching a 2 foot hole in its chest back together before my very eyes. Neat trick, that, by the way." Jim's words are cold, emotionless and somehow still possessing of an air of superiority. He has stared death in the face before, though this time it seems far more inevitable.
"Well then, may I at least get the name of my would-be assassin?"
"Name's Jim. Jim Hunter, ironically."
"Well, Jim. I am currently going by the name Gilbert Wilson. Though I assume you knew that. However my given name was Alf Eriksson. Born in 1659." Gilbert smiles and gives a bow with a flourish.
"Well met. So, what happens next, Gilbert? Or would you prefer Alf?" Jim inquires with a calm that would be unnerving to any living man.
"Well that does present quite the conundrum, doesn't it? Obviously since you didn't know what I was, that means you weren't aware of our existence... which is how we like it. So, letting you live is a hard sell. But you are also an exceptional example of humanity, so killing you seems to be a waste. I could turn you, though I doubt you're really wanting that, plus there's the politics that come into play with me turning a human without approval. Since I do not possess the ability to mind control mortals, I can't erase your memory either. And yes, I would prefer Alf given our present situation." The vampire responds.
"Well Alf, I did just attempt to kill you, surely there must be some animosity that influences your decision."
"That may be so. But you're hardly the first to attempt. So I will let that slide. I truly am impressed with your abilities. And you would be quite the asset to us, should I turn you."
"Let me stop you there. I hate the taste of blood and love the taste of garlic. Gonna have to pass on that one. Let's just agree that now that I know what you are, and I haven't technically fulfilled my contract on you, I'm too dangerous to let live." Jim has resigned himself to his own demise.
Alf's chest has finished restoring by this point, though his clothes remain soaked in blood and with a hole in them. "Well Jim. If you're determined to continue pursuing me, it's kind of like you're making my decision for me. Good enough. So how would you like this to go down?"
"Quick and painless seems to be the standard. So let's go with that." He finally realized he still has the shotgun in his hands. He chuckles as he tosses it aside. "Fat lot of good that would do me now."
"I can do you one better, Jim. Given our rapport, I can take you to the brink of ecstacy as you die. You'll have a good death, and it will be painless, even pleasurable." Alf extends his hand.
Jim takes the hand and steps closer, extending his neck.
"Nice meeting you, Jim."
"Wish I could say the same, Alf." | **Whoa! You're alive!**
No shit. First rule of being a successful hitman: have a gun, preferably a sniper rifle. All you did was throw a chicken wing at me. On a related note, why did you try to kill me at Hooters?
**I think the more important question is why are YOU here.**
I like the food.
**So what's your problem if I chuck a wing at you?**
Is this Arby's? Do we throw food at other patrons here? No, and no.
**Do you know why I'm trying to kill you?**
Yes, and I don't blame you one bit. That's a LOT of reward money.
**And I plan on getting it.**
Not now, I'm eating. Relax. Here, HAND me a goddamn wing.
**Fine, here.**
Thanks. Boy, you know, people joke about this place, but the food really isn't all that half too terribly bad.
**You're not fooling anyone.**
You know I'm gay, right?
**Plot twist!**
No shit! (fist bump) Look, sure, you wanna kill me, but I don't want you to, so as you can see... I'm in a bit of a bind. (sighs) Can I tell you a story?
**I don't know, CAN YOU?**
Yes. Yes, I can.
**Then proceed.**
A Polack, a black, and a mexican walk into a bar--
**No. Not a story. Also, offensive. And how is that relevant?**
Just trying to lighten the mood. And believe it or not, that joke is *least* offensive to mexicans, who are the obvious punchline, given their joke placement in the number three slot. It's scientific.
**I really should have brought a gun.**
Yeah, why didn't you?
**In this state, you're not allowed to bring a gun into a restaurant.**
I know! That's why the slogan here at Hooters is "You Won't Get Shot!"
**It is?**
They're pivoting from sexism and they don't know how.
**Poor Hooters.**
It's not like they can brag about how good the food is.
**They'd get sued!**
Bro! (high fives) THIS is why I hang at Hooters. It's like an American embassy, but with short shorts and Coors Light.
**But what do you do when they close for the night?**
Can you keep a secret?
**I mean, I AM trying to kill you--**
But BESIDES that.
**Ok, why not?**
(whispers in ear)
**That's bloody genius. I mean, I CAN'T kill you now.**
You barely tried to begin with. A chicken wing?
**What can I say? I didn't think ahead.**
No. No you did not. Here, next round is on me....
(fade to black) | 2019-08-29T20:06:05 | 2019-08-29T19:10:30 | 245 | 16 |
[WP] Every sentient species in the universe receives a Jesus figure from God. It turns out humanity was the only species to torture and crucify him. You're an ambassador priest informing the Inter-Galactic Holy Church what your species did. | Father Sanchez adjusted his turquoise robes, sighed, and started his defense.
"Look, Your Cosmic Eminence, I don't really think this is our fault."
"Hold on, stop right there." the pulsing orb of electricity said through the translator. "Are you actually trying to justify your actions."
"Well, yes, Your CE. There are mitigating circumstances here."
The Anointed started to move towards Sanchez, but an untranslated voltage change from the CE stopped them.
"Present your 'mitigating' circumstances."
"Right, yes." Sanchez continued, now eyeing the 10 foot reptilian Anointed with anxiety.
"You see, He wanted us to do it."
The CE immediately felt a twinge of despondency. It knew where this was going, and so did everyone else in the Shimmering Gallery, but it let Sanchez continue.
"Our Lord, Jesus Christ, made it clear at several points that He was expecting to be sacrificed. You have a copy of our Holy Book? Have you read it yet?"
"That's evidence that will be reviewed after testimony." the CE replied.
"Alright, well, if you read it, He made the following statement, among others, 'The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men. They will kill him, and after three days he will rise.'"
"Oh dear, He had started referring to himself as a man?" the CE probed.
"Yes, Your Cosmic Eminence. That's kind of a big part of our understanding of Him, as limited as it obviously was. Anyway, not only did he predict his own crucifixion, he took active steps to ensure it would happen. He prevented his own disciples from stopping it. He seemed to be seeking it out at the end. We were under the impression that it was a necessary sacrifice to make for our redemption."
"But you also stated in the preliminary hearing that you believe He is both the Son of God and God himself, correct?" the CE interjected.
"Yes, Your Cosmic Eminence. That was our understanding."
"You don't think it's a little bit counter-intuitive that a supreme being would have to sacrifice Itself to Itself in order to provide salvation?
Various noises came from the Shimmering Gallery. Father Sanchez' translator said they were laughter. He smiled uneasily, attempting and failing to intimate that he understood the joke.
"There were people who suggested that didn't make sense."
"Why weren't they listened to?"
Sanchez blinked twice. "Um...for most of our history...we...uh...we killed those people."
The CE rippled with current.
"You humans sure have a thing for taking lives that don't belong to you."
"Yes, Your Cosmic Eminence, but I think we are getting better..."
"Alright. That's enough. Your mitigating circumstances are accepted on the contingency that study of your Holy Book confirms your statements here. This hearing is adjourned."
Father Sanchez let out a sigh of deep relief. As the various strange and sometimes unfathomable beings filed out of the Shimmering Gallery, several of them stopped to express their regret about his situation.
The CE traveled through a conduit to it's private chambers. Once there, it reviewed the copy of the Bible that had been provided to it, and then made the necessary oblations and rituals to contact the Supremacy.
"This is the office of the Supremacy," Frppt, It's secretary, answered. "It's in a planning meeting for a new dimension, may I take a message?"
"Yes, this is the Cosmic Eminence from the Fourth Iteration. Would you please tell It that we've reviewed the humans' case, and it looks like we have another insane Messiah situation on our hands. This one WANTED them to kill Him. We have absolved the humans, but we humbly request that you take a look at your Quality Assurance procedures. This is the ninth one we've encountered this millennium." | "You weren't supposed to kill him!"
I knew from the beginning that this meeting was destined to end in a resounding failure. Well, no sense delaying the inevitable. I went in with the verbal equivalent of dual-wielded SMG's.
"How the hell were we supposed to know that everyone got a messiah of their own? So what, we slightly maybe killed ours. I bet everyone else has too! He came in at a period in history that was... violent, from an occupied country, and stirred up shit with the leaders of said country, *and* the religious leaders to boot! Hell, it was two thousand years ago, how are we accountable for their actions?
What have I ever done to deserve this? I was born two thousand, one hundred and nine years after this, in an era where all he would have to do is get to a terminal and demonstrate a miracle. He'd be on a fusion-jet within the hour to the Core Planet, where he'd demonstrate again, and the leaders of all twenty-nine planets would make a decision in his favour.
He couldn't do that. In thirty-three years, he managed to convince a few thousand people, out of millions. Today, he could have reached millions in seconds. Jesus didn't even know what China *was*, or that the Southern Hemisphere even existed. You dropped a convict into the middle of a civilization with no planning and basic psychic tech and expected him to convince the world? If we executed him, it's down to your organization's poor planning."
I stood, panting after the massive fillibuster I'd shot off at him. I silently berated myself for my stupidity; I'd done the holy equivalent of punching Jesus in the face. And then following up with a kick in the balls. Actually, more piling on the pain and kicking him once he was down a few times too. He'd probably lose a tooth at the end.
The floating priest made his decision. "I'm going to give you another one. Here's Kevin Williams." He showed me Kevin, who looked like an Abra dated a pot plant, and it was born four months early. *Oh Lord, how the hell do I convince people that this is the Messiah?*" I thought, as I headed back to my shuttle.
--
For more stories and stuff, I have a subreddit: r/Thomas_633 | 2016-08-18T06:44:06 | 2016-08-18T04:29:52 | 241 | 51 |
[WP] An undercover police officer has managed to infiltrate a particularly ruthless street gang. It begins to become apparent that every other member of this gang is an undercover operative of another agency. | "Aight, we gonna do this or what?" James mumbled out, his accent and demeanor perfect. Six months in intensive training and it was his first day: he was beyond ready.
"Yes, my brother, let's initiate this exchange of drugs," Jarfoor responded in an unusually high volume.
"Oh yes, 2.2lbs of methamphetamine, son, you will enjoy doing all this meth after you have purchased it imminently," Dafur affirmed.
*What the fuck is happening?* James thought to himself. It was all going horribly wrong: he'd never learned to use any of that language. He composed himself before responding.
"Yeah yeah whateva, go say hi to my friend and we'll party afteward, ya feel me?"
"I'm afraid we haven't much time for saying hello, James," Jarfoor blurted out, "For you see we are in he midst of a class-3 felonious transaction."
"Yo yo yo, I don't know what it is or ain't, brotha, but we gotta run on this low key ya feel?" James shot back, quickly.
"We mustn't hurry," Darfoor chimed in, "2.2 lbs of crystal methamphetamine are being purchased, after all, and it's of the utmost importance that you are prepared to receive this and to aid and abet us in selling it, James."
James' world was crashing in on itself. He'd spent countless hours watching Kevin Hart and Chris Rock standup to prepare for this. He could recite the entire film Crash by heart. He thought he was ready, but he realized now that he had failed. He hung his head low and tried to fit in.
"Yes, my friends," James began, "Indeed I am here to purchase this crystal methamphetamine. Here is the agreed-upon money that we discussed. I'm handing it to you now."
"Freeze!" Jarfoor and Dafur shouted, raising weapons, "We got you now, you piece of shit!"
James stood with his hands held high. The other two immediately began checking for weapons, but found only a police badge under his denim parka. Then insidious cackling ensued.
"Holy shit! LAPD!?" Dafur cackled.
James, his head shaking from frustration, snatched the badge back. "Who the fuck are you guys?"
"Staties, bro, staties," Jarfoor chimed in, "And let me just tell ya, you gotta work on your undercover, bro. Got better at the end but that shit didn't fool nobody." | So I finally look around in awe. NYPD officers, state troopers, private investigators (that to be honest are committing a serious ethical breach), even the damn FBI. How could such a ruthless gang have been infiltrated this many times. I'm still shocked I was able to do it, my less so many other people.
Then a more horrifying thought popped into my mind. If a large majority of these gang members are policemen and women, who the hell has been committing all these heinous crimes. I look around the room, trying to sort the still-decent officers from the newly converted gangbangers and drug lords.
I spent the entire day feeling sick about it. I didn't know what to do. Then, the gang called everyone in for a new venture they decided to go in. I came to the location and discovered it was a dog fighting ring.
Just as a pit bull was biting the neck off a German Shepard, I was wondering how such upstanding members of law enforcement could possible do such heinous things. That's when I put fifty dollars on the Rottweiler that was up next. | 2017-07-24T12:34:25 | 2017-07-24T12:02:23 | 54 | 21 |
[WP] You decide to prank your newborn kid by having him read Harry Potter series and convincing him it's real and that he is a wizard as well. You fake a Hogwarts letter, drive him to King's Cross station and wait for the moment he crashes into the pillar. He goes straight through. | I ducked under the flying book with practiced ease and it slammed into the wall behind me.
“Abarakadabum!!”
My mother was fond of screaming made up spell names during her nightly drinking sessions.
She laughed and subsequently lost her balance, rolling off the couch and falling bodily onto the floor.
I took the opportunity to flee, quietly slipping out the front door. I lit a cigarette and walked down the empty street, pulling the red and gold scarf my mom had given me years ago close.
I don’t know why she kept doing it. Not the drinking; I knew why she drank. It was the fantasy, this idea that Hogwarts was real and that I was a witch. Obviously, I had figured it out years ago but my mother refused to admit the stories were just that, stories.
Well, anyways, these days we would only get a few pages into the Order of the Phoenix before mom had downed two martinis and started to slur her words.
I finished my cigarette and walked home. To my surprise my mother was upright and sitting at the table, with a cigarette of her own in one hand and a letter in the other.
“Look what an owl brought me,” she said. Her eyes were red but alert. Her hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist, and she pulled me toward the letter.
“Open it!” There was a hint of menace in her voice.
The letter was an invitation to Hogwarts, done in my mother’s crude hand writing. She hadn’t even put effort into it. I couldn’t help it; I teared up. Why did she do this to me?!
Later that evening I could hear her laughing on the phone, “she even started crying, the idiot! Tomorrow I’m taking her to Kings Cross. We are going to break the internet. This shits going viral.”
That morning I went along with everything. I stood mutely while my mother dressed me in a kids halloween costume, not even a brand name but a cheap knock off, “wizard boy cloak”.
We got to the station and she pushed me towards Platform 9.
I turned to her, hoping that she would realize that I was still her daughter and not her play thing, not a burden, but a girl who still loves her mom, despite the beatings and the drinking.
She blew me an exaggerated kiss, pulled out her cell phone, and motioned me to get going.
So I ran. I ran headlong at the pillar, because fuck it. Because at best I would jar my brain in just the right way and the last 13 years of my life would be forgotten, and who knows, maybe this would make my mother happy.
As I got closer to the pillar I even started to believe that I was on my way to Hogwarts. That this was it.
I could hear my mother laughing. I closed my eyes and braced for the impact. There was a roar in my ears. But I just kept running.
“Steady!!”
Firm hands gripped me. I looked up to see the kindly face of an elderly man in a peculiar set of robes. He had a long white beard and half moon spectacles. I looked around to see young people in black robes everywhere.
The man looked down at me.
“We are so glad you’ve made it.” | A rebuttal of a rebuttal, with a continuance.
What a long day.
Of course, funerals do that to you. The cold wet ground. Acting as if remorse is felt, when much of it left, long ago. Two and a half years. That's how long it had been. Barry wasn't the best husband but he had been one, as if that was enough. For years, he fooled our son into thinking the existence of Hogwarts was real. To be fair though, he had went to great lengths to make it seem true. At least he had done that much. I told him often how he needed to tell our son the truth. Some kids grow up believing in Santa, some grow up believing all manner of else. He just had to make our son feel special in that way though. An impossible way.
What would have happened if he had lived? Would he grow up believing life was a lie? Failing to believe in anything, because the one thing he truly believed was torn away? Or would he have grown from it. I'm unsure, but sitting here, looking at his father's grave, right beside his, I feel nothing. No, that's not entirely true. I feel as if I am being watched. The hairs standing up on my neck, as if a cold hand had just brushed along it. But who would be watching now? The funeral was over hours ago. So I steel my heart, and turn around. Off in the distance, beyond the spiked fence then encased the cemetery, a lone figure darts quickly behind cover. But just for a moment, I felt I could clearly make out their features. They felt somehow familiar. As if I knew them. Did I know them?
Hours later, trying to sleep, yet fruitless in my endeavors, I sit up quickly, with a start.
"Barry!?" | 2018-05-21T03:18:23 | 2018-05-21T02:10:02 | 1,611 | 44 |
[WP] An ISIS warlord wakes up in the body of an american sorority girl and vice versa. | Brittney had never held a gun before.
Boys had ogled her and chased her most of her life, and she enjoyed that immensely, although she always acted like she never realized how attractive she was. At any given party at Alpha Gam house, she could take her pick of any man there, whether he had a girlfriend or not, even if she was there.
But once she had them, they treated her like garbage. They never gave her the time of day, returned her calls, took her seriously. Even the ones she really liked.
But now, with this AK-47 in her hands, she felt powerful for the first time in her life. She liked how heavy it felt, the texture of the coarse splintery wood. She liked the way it kicked.
The other ISIS soldiers in her squad stood around her, huddled low in the cover of a shelled-out hut. At dawn they would move across the field into the nearby village, seize it in the name of the ISIS. If they failed, they would inflict as many casualties as possible, bomb the water supply, and then pull out again before another attack tomorrow.
Whatever she said, the others did. Having that level of power was magical, supernatural. It made her feel high in a way that being the hottest girl in Alpha Gam never had. It was better than walking down the street and knowing every guy was watching her ass as she passed them by.
It made her feel that it didn’t matter how hot she was, because with an AK in hand, she had the power to reshape history, to destroy like Shiva, the Hindu god of the apocalypse, to take and give life.
She frankly didn’t care how this had happened, if she had jumped through a wormhole to an alternate dimension or if was having some strange hallucination on a drug slipped into her drink. It was too good to question.
She nodded to her fellow soldiers.
Brittney charged, screaming for the death of all Christians, America, and the end of the West.
-------------
Mohammed had never had a sip of alcohol before, but now that he had the world spinned around him. He was wrapped in the warmest, most comfortable blanket in the Universe. The sorority girl next to him had a hand around his shoulder, singing some song that he had never heard before. They drunkenly waited for food on the front lawn of the house, talking shit, drinking vodka in Red Solo cups.
He paused for a second when the mozzarella sticks arrived, some echo of his former self wondering if God would punish him for consuming this, but he tasted it anyways.
He had never tasted anything so exquisite, so orgasmic. He had never felt so good.
The only conclusion he could come to that he had fallen in battle and ascended into paradise, although he remembered nothing other than going to sleep.
He must have died, slain by a mortar, killed in some ambush.
Music blared from the nearby houses and packs of people wandered down the road, laughing uproariously. He had never witnessed such a scene of self-indulgence, had never seen so many people embrace sensual pleasure, stuffing every orifice with stimuli. It was glorious.
He touched his own boobs. That was one thing he couldn’t quite make sense of, but he didn’t care. They were soft and abundant and fun to play with.
All of his years of planting bombs and training his fellow Islamic brothers had paid off.
| Ishmael awoke in a daze. Something was different. A tremendous sense of lightness permeated his body. As he did every morning since the ambush, he stretched his arm across to his left shoulder to caress the festering shrapnel wound that had been a source of unending agony for the past few weeks. Instead of the usual patchwork of abrasions and weeping punctures that his fingertips had become so accustomed to, he sensed smooth tight flesh, softer than anything he had touched before. It was a miracle of god. Allah had rejuvenated Ishmael's spirit, sewn his wound with a divine seam and imbued him with the body of a mighty and agile warrior. Ishmael rose with great energy, flung his arms towards the heavens and screamed at the top his lungs "ALLAH AKBAR!!!!!". "Brittany, what the fuck are you doing?! It's 6am you retard go back to bed". Ishmael span around in horror. Lying before him was a red haired infidel, giant in stature, wearing nothing but a crimson jacket emblazoned with the sigil of a mighty wildcat. Ishmael felt faint, he began to take in his surroundings. Covering the walls was a horrific mosiac of the great satan's propaganda. Rihanna, Katy Perry, "101 cocktails to fuck you up!". After scanning this demonic lair his eyes rested upon a mirror. There before him lay an image of a nude infidel woman staring back at him. He looked down and saw the supple breasts and taut body of a young Caucasian female. "Yo did you hear about Kacie? Brad told me at Caribbean disco night she totally got preggers from sleeping with that fat kid that shit himself in modern history. Haha what a dork. Wanna go get some pancakes babe?". Ishmael ran towards the window and jumped out into the parking lot below. He ran and ran until he reached a nearby wood, and passed out amongst the wet leaves. | 2014-08-09T05:20:26 | 2014-08-09T04:42:24 | 442 | 21 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts. | They say you do not really die until none still live who remember you. That is not entirely true. I faded from this realm, lost in the cosmic noise. I dreamt of the great worms, the dark devourer, and the angels with whom they fought.
And then I woke.
Slowly I became aware of the stone. Cracked and mossy. Ancient by any measure. The sky was blue. Cloudless. It was daylight. I felt weak. Hungry.
"It's tea time, Mr. statue! This is Mr. Bun!"
A small figure bounced around the shrine in pantomime. Acting out the feast of some beasts or others. I was not the only god represented, though this was my shrine. A god of the harvest - a rabbit - was seated to my right. And a god of magick - a unicorn. And finally one of the great worms, his tail alight with power, sat in a tiny plastic chair to my left.
"Mrs. Glow Worm thinks you need a bath," the tiny priestess announced. She squeezed the elder god and its tail again charged with power. Then she came forward and began to clean the shrine in supplication.
This strange union - man, earth, aether, and darkness - I had never believed such to be possible. This creature, this High Priestess, was worth a thousand, perhaps ten thousand worshippers. Her vision was beyond the imagination even of the Gods. Or at least, of me, Dartul, God of the River.
And where was the river? I sensed nothing. No realm to watch over, no boats to sink or sail, no fish to feed, and no water to guide.
A voice rang out: "Sidney, get your friends, it's time for school!"
The Priestess took note. "Coming mama!" She turned to my shrine, her wise eyes peering through me. "You'll keep me safe, won't you?"
The ritual was clear. All of the Great Powers had been joined to free me from my river shackles and bend me towards a great purpose: The protection of this young master in her quest to unite the world.
"Yes," I told her. "Always."
She did not respond in any way, but rather bounced back to the house nearby, across a tiny lawn - when had that appeared? - and she vanished through a wooden door.
Time to keep the promise. I reached out with the back of my consciousness to feel the earth, the air, and the world around. I was weak, that much was clear. And so was the world. The air was filthy with dirt and ash. The earth had been covered up in many places; a patchwork of construction preventing the trees from growing where they would. And the water was gone. Or... there was some, I could sense, in metal tubes. Some was clean and pure, and some was rancid and full of filth.
The world was broken.
Through this break I saw my chance. As a former river god, I knew the ways of the water. I could flow through the pipes with ease to anywhere they ran. When the Priestess, Sidney, rode in her metal carriage with her entourage, following her was simple.
Protecting her was not. Other carriages careened around the patchwork as we traveled. Some seemed orderly and well behaved, while others wove unpredictable patterns. Twice I had to bat one away as it drew too closely to my ward. Birds dared to defecate upon her vehicle and I smote them for it. A squirrel stood defiantly before them and I crushed it to dust.
The god of the harvest had given me her blessing, after all, and the elder god his methods. I would use them all. I summoned the lampreys of the midden to dispose of the dead things and then return to the space between, for I sensed the Priestess wished not to look upon their offensive forms.
And then the carriage stopped. A woman got out, took the Priestess' hand, and they began to walk together.
I was a fool.
This was clearly her mother, not a slave or pious escort. The tiny Priestess was only a child. And yet her ritual, her supplication, it had been the correct form. Perhaps she was chosen by an even greater God than I to wind the world back together.
I followed, rustling the leaves of the large tree that stood in front of the building to which they headed. A school.
Here the teacher and her thirty classmates sat. The teacher read to them stories of the gods of yore - ancient gods of the Greeks, dragons of China, and of the great and terrible wizards of Europe. I had never heard these tales before, never met those gods. I had slumbered long, I supposed.
"Does anyone want to tell a story about a mythical creature," the teacher asked.
My Priestess raised her hand.
"Yes, Sidney, go ahead."
"Behind my house there is a statue of a woman and she protects me," evangelized the child. "She holds the water in her hands like a snake and her legs are covered in fish scales. I think she's pretty."
A God cannot blush - especially an aetherial one - but I felt a great joy at this announcement.
The class clapped. I could feel the belief in them growing, feeding me. And I knew - right then and there - that this new awakening was for not only protecting the High Priestess, but her entire flock.
"I will keep you safe," I whispered to their souls. "Mark a river in the shape of a serpent upon your arms so that others may know you are under my gaze, and I will be your shield and your spear."
They could not hear me, of course. My voice was the rain against the window and the wind through the leaves. But they knew my intentions in their blood and in their bodies. The Old Gods' worms may speak the tongues of men out loud, but the Gods of the Elements moved meaning directly through their souls.
Sidney drew a blue marker from her bag. "Miss Powell," she asked, unbidden, "What's a 'serpent?'"
I cast my gaze outward as the flock fed me their prayers. Some were trivial: "Candy," or "more recess," or "purple hair." But a boy in the corner, he bade me protect him in a manner I understood. "My father hits me sometimes."
With the pure faith of these innocents coursing through my being, I grasped the lightning.
"Describe him to me," I echoed. "And you will never hurt again."
"Thank you, Dartul," the children murmured in unison.
Miss Powell stood suddenly from her pillow in the circle on the floor. "What was that?" She looked afraid, panicked, even.
"Calm yourself," I told her as I flowed towards the downtown through the waterways of the city. "And I will keep you safe."
The father was yelling at a television in his office. Obscenities and vulgarities I am too couth to repeat.
"You are all safe," I told Miss Powell and the children, "as long as you worship me."
The father had a problem with his heart. A tiny hole. He had probably never noticed it. I gave it teeth and purpose.
The boy was safe.
"Worship me," I told the flock as they drew blue serpents on their arms.
"Worship. Me." | "Wh- huh? Where am I? Am I... awake?" I whisper, suddenly finding myself standing at the foot of my shrine. I look around, so much has changed since I was last here. There is forest where there was once sprawling metropolis. All the buildings made of wood and stone and clay have decayed, leaving only mossy pebbles in their place. Even my shrine is dilapidated, covered in vines and crumbling. I look down and see a small, brightly-wrapped offering. I pick it up and examine it. Its golden yellow coating emblazoned with the word "Butterfinger" gleams pleasingly in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Since when does butter have fingers? I carefully unwrap the strange trinket and sniff it. It smells of sweet cacao and nuts. I put it in my mouth. A smile spreads from ear to ear as I savor the delicious taste of this peculiar treat!
That is when I first sense the nearby presence of a little girl watching me. The centuries must have dulled my senses, for I usually would not have been so easily snuck up upon.
"Come, child. Do not be afraid," I call to her.
She steps nervously closer, and in the light I can now see her. She is five or six winters old, with pretty red locks tied into two pigtails and freckly pale skin. She has light brown eyes the color of honey, almost gold in color.
"What is your name, child?"
"Ummm, I'm Melissa."
"Melissa, is it? Thank you for the offering, Melissa. It was delicious. I never knew buttered fingers could taste so good."
She giggles, "You talk funny! Um, but those aren't real human fingers! That's just what they're called. My mama said so. It's actually candy!"
"Candy? Is it a form of khanda? Hmm, well either way it is very sweet. Thank you."
"You're welcome! But, um, who are you?"
"I am- er, **was** the goddess of a tribe of people whose name has no doubt been lost to time. They lived on this land and worshipped me and I, in return, protected them and blessed their crops. I also blessed their babies and marriages. In time, however, my followers dwindled. Magic and myth gave way to reason and rationality, and they no longer needed me. Then missionaries came and converted or killed what remaining followers I still had. As the number of my followers waned so, too, did my powers. A god needs worshippers in order to have any power. Even my loyalist, most devout worshippers left me in the end when I no longer had the power to answer their prayers. When my last follower stopped believing, that is when I fell into a deep, centuries-long slumber. I lost the ability to materialize within this world. But you- you awakened me! That must mean that you believe! You do believe, don't you?"
The girl called Melissa stares at me blankly, "Erm, that's all kinda confusing. I didn't really understand, but basically you lost all your friends? The people who prayed to you and believed in you?"
"More or less."
"I see..." the girl looks at her feet for a minute or two with a thoughtful expression. "Well, that's okay, I'll be your friend!"
She beams at me with her adorable freckled cheeks.
"Truly? You will follow me? Thank you, you are a very kind-hearted little girl."
"Tee hee! No problem! But, um, what should I call you? What's your name?"
I sigh. I try to think back, to remember, but I could no longer recall my name.
"I do not remember. It, too, has been lost to the ages. Perhaps you could give me a new one?"
"Ooh, okay! Umm..." Melissa looks me up and down. "How about... Geneva!"
"Geneva? Why Geneva?"
"That's my older sister in heaven's name! I never met her, but mama and papa say she's always watching over us!"
"Very well then, you may call me Geneva. Well then, Melissa, what tribe are you from?"
"Tribe? Umm, I dunno about tribes but I'm in kindergarten. I'm in Miss Kristi's class!"
"Kindergarten, you say? Very well then, since I have lost my previous role, I will now be the Goddess of Kindergarteners!"
"Okay! Um, Geneva is kinda hard to say, so is it okay if I just call you Jenny for short?"
I stare in disbelief. What sort of blasphemy is this?! In my time, no worshipper of mine would dare call me by such a pet name! But, I suppose this isn't my time anymore, is it? I must move forward, if I wish to survive and not fall back into a centuries long sleep. And she is only a little girl, after all, I mustn't expect too much of my high priestess yet.
"As you wish. Come, Melissa, show me to your dwelling. I wish to make my acquaintance with your tribe."
"Tee hee, you still talk funny. Okay, let's go home Jenny!"
Without asking permission she grabs my hand and tugs me along, through the woods, down the hill, towards her house.
\- - - -
This was a lot of fun lol, thanks so much for sharing! If you don't mind, do you think I could run with your idea a bit? I'm inspired to make an RPG Maker game with it! I will credit you of course, and the game will be non-commercial (so it's free and anyone can play it). I'll also be sure to message you with a link to it when I'm done, assuming I don't stop halfway which I have a terrible habit of doing in both writing and game-making. XD | 2021-09-02T10:35:51 | 2021-09-02T10:26:34 | 61 | 14 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not. | Fred Phelps was getting tired of waiting. He had been suspended in space for what felt like a couple of years before he saw a light approaching. He knew this was the moment he'd been waiting for, but as the light drew near, Fred couldn't help thinking that God looked...different...than he'd expected. Instead of a bearded old man, God was sort of, well, a mass of noodles.
"Ha ha -- been waiting long?" the Apparition giggled. "I like to make people think they went to Hell."
Fred began, "Lord, it is me, your good and faithful serva--"
"Whoa, whoa!" the Monster cut him off. "First off, I'm not who you think, and second, don't call yourself MY servant! You're my hero!"
Fred couldn't help feeling a little flattered. "Well, I was among the few faithful."
"Faithful?! You were the best there ever was, man!"
Fred acted embarrassed, though if he was perfectly honest, he would have admitted that he was expecting a little VIP treatment in the afterlife.
"But let's clear up this little misunderstanding first," said the Monster. "I'm not your 'God' or whoever. I am What I am."
Fred felt his throat tighten a little as he considered the possibilities. "And...what are you?" he asked after a pause.
"Ha -- what do I look like?" The Monster spread its tentacles so Fred could get a better view.
"um...a floating...spaghetti monster?"
"Well, 'Flying' if you want to get technical. And make sure you capitalize the m in Monster."
Fred gulped. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Duuude! I'm so glad you're here! You were the ultimate religious troll! You took organized religion and made it the biggest farce! What am I going to do with you? I want to learn from you! You're older than me, and you've done a shit ton more heinous things than I ever even imagined! Teach me your ways, old man!"
Fred was nervous, but if he was perfectly honest with himself, he would have admitted that he still felt flattered. A God was looking to him for answers. Wasn't that all Fred really wanted?
"C'mon, Mr. Phelps" said the Monster as he wrapped Fred in his starchy arms, "put this strainer on your head, and let's go log on to 9gag!"
| The felt table reached as far as he could see in front, and stretched farther than he could see to his sides. Beside him on either side sat another being, and beside them more. Their eyes peeking down at the two cards tucked under their hands.
His turn was coming up, he knew this even though he did not understand. From his left he could hear another being calling "check", and so next and the next, until the one next to him folded.
Silence seemed to loom, almost crushing as everyone, and he could feel all their eyes, their million eyes, on him. Shrinking he panicked...
"Your turn to talk!" grumbled the being to his right, "look at your cards and make a call."
Two cards lay on the table, face down, their backs black and red a symbol he didn't recognize adorned them. Picking them up revealed a 10 of diamonds and a 7 of hearts.
"Check?" the words whispered out of his mouth weakly.
"Check!" the being next to him said, continuing a long line of checks and folds, occasionally he heard "Raise" followed by a collecting groan of a million voices. | 2016-03-07T19:44:40 | 2016-03-07T17:54:48 | 50 | 17 |
[WP] Every spacefaring species has something that makes them special. Some are fast, some have telekinesis, some are nigh-unkillable. To the galaxy's surprise, humans have a tendency to befirend the cosmic horrors lurking where the starlight does not reach. | Jalaxil shuddered, trying to keep his chitin plates from rattling in terror as he hid in the bridge. His ship had run out of fuel, drifting through space. He had tried to argue with the captain against activating the distress beacon. They could have let the ship drift. In another month, they could have been in the clear, away from the reach of those monsters, those... things that lurked in the human space sectors. Rations might have gone low, but they could've drawn straws. At least some of the crew would survive.
Jalaxil flinched as he heard the airlock cycle open, heard booted heels click clacking across the floor of the ship. The unmistakable sound of the humans. He reached out, laying his bare hand against the metal, casting his sight through the ships frame. One human, alone. He dared to hope that the crew might make it out alive, could feel the hopes of his fellow crew members as they, too, watched from their hidden spaces.
And then It followed after the human, padding silently, and the metal of the ship turned icy cold with the dread of his crew. He felt the presence of some crewmembers dissapear, no doubt snatching their hands away from the bulkhead, incapable of looking at the monstrous creature that walked in. But more crewmembers stayed, their presence lingering kn the ships frame, unable to tear their vision away from the creature that would be their doom.
Humans had built shrines to these creatures, dedicated great works and monuments to these creatures, even going so far as to create works that depicted fusions of the humans and these beasts. And all while they were still banging two rocks together to make fire. The creatures had taken to being worshipped, apparently, and had acted as shepherds for the humans, staying by their sides throughout the eons as the humans were guided ever closer to siezing the space between stars.
This creatures hide was black, an inky, rippling hide that absorbed all light, and showed the hint of a lithe, lethal form of rippling muscle underneath. He felt the claws through the metal of the ships deck, the claws tracing ever so faintly across his sense of touch. It reminded him of the promise of his queens touch, but the only promise in this was that of a slow death, filtered through with insanity.
He shut his eyes as the human approached the bridge, the door sliding open. -play dead- he thought to himself. -It is the only hope left to you to make it out of this.- but he could still see the room through his bond to the ship, despite his closed eyes. He heard the human make one of their air-sounds, like the wheeze of his grandfather, and mutter in one of the human dialects. The human moved on, stepping over the bodies to advance to the computer.
But the demon creature. It was staring straight at him. -it knows!- Jalaxil fought the urge to run as it approached, knowing that there was no place on a ship in space that he could possibly escape to. It lazily walked up to him, sniffing, seeming to try and inhale his very life essence in the act, but stopping short. It stared at him, it's rearmost appendage twitching in anticipation, before it climbed on top of him, pinning him to the deck.
And now he felt it's claws, not through the dulled sensation given to him through the deck plates but through his own flesh. The claws ripped into him, seeking their way through his chitin, stabbing, stabbing, through his flesh - but not ripping. With each thrust he felt the earlier dark promise of those claws fulfilled, each stab into his flesh a new flash of pain, and then it stopped. The beast hunkered down, closing it's eyes in satisfaction, and he felt a deep rumble that vibrated his entire body. It was laughing. At him. At his demise. He would never get to see his queen again. Never get to see his home. And this creature was laughing. An icy chill ran Jalaxil's spine as he begged inwardly that his end might be a quick one, and then... it was over.
"C'mon, Admiral Whiskers. Everyone here is already dead. There's nothing we can do for these people. Let's get back to our ship and get you a can of cat food, huh?" The humans words were nonsense to Jalaxil, but the demon creature ended it's torments, following the human back to it's own ship. Jalaxil layed on the floor for a long moment, even after he felt the human ship depart, wondering what dark twist of fate had spared his life. | Talvines- purple skinned insectoids, parasitoids that infect different species. Able to teleport within a certain range they dominate their part of the universe and have a large gap between them and other sentient species.
Trillers gem spined spider like creatures. Incredible factory systems and innate defense mechanisms. Their towering glass architecture inspires artists. A truly wealthy and respected species. Their past is rarely spoken of but they are peace-keepers and well trusted.
Feared. Nobility.
Asocial in regards to other species.
Not many species blend. The Network, planet systems close to each other accepting all crab species a notable exception in having clear requirements.
Squires and Mylits are some of the most unique one, shadowy creatures working in tandem with birds with highly trained abilities. There is an assortment of other blended planets and cultures but in comparison to the many species it is incredibly small.
Then there are humans, their constant request for friendship initially being mistaken as trade arrangements. Their desire to know others, being taken as a declaration of war once. They were seen as a rude invasive species.
It was however friendliness. Pushing themselves into worlds of Avians was a reckless act that somehow worked, this itself a rare case of interspecies mingling and the deciding factor for the near universe to believe Humans quirk was being extroverted.
They proved that right, in the worst way.
Having heard of Trillers human love of gems sent a small expedition to trade, while a disrespectful act from other species Humans had been accepted. An oddity and a beloved part of the universe.
Triller gems entered the marketplace in exchange for honey, and a tentative friendship was formed.
Then of course, we all know how it went wrong.
A regular expedition was blown off course sending humans into deep-starlight, the gap between Talvines and other species, a place ancient gods had taken to.
An inbetween place, somewhere off of reality where laws had become distorted, where unique creatures and horrifying ones resided, notably where planet sized eyes led back to Varsa.
They befriended xem.
Varsa, a being that didn’t know empathy or even speech. Their extroversion went further than we had believed.
One human said “Xyr cool, xe’s more of a really scary cat than a monster.”
No further answer was provided, no move was made to distance from Varsa, in fact they grew closer to xem. Zaros metals were collected from xyr eyes.
Triller trade trailed off, Avians had, though it had been only a few centuries, already integrated, that though was the end of humans befriending other species. We pulled back, away further from deep-starlight.
While we ran humans continued. Varsa was only the first followed by other entities.
We leave humans alone now, there is a second gap. Talvines at the center, ununderstood entities, then a ring of humans. They send out signals, speak of our nightmares that they call friends. They still try to befriend us but they don’t leave. But now a few words haunt us introverted species. “for now.
“This is enough for now.”
Humans are extroverted, maybe more. | 2021-04-08T00:31:51 | 2021-04-07T21:11:49 | 71 | 42 |
[WP] The world ended 20 years ago, you haven't found a living soul since then. Through some ingenuity, you call voicemails for the last 20 years to keep you company. "Hi, this is Cindy..." "Hi you reached Bob" "You know what to do at the beep" until one day "Hello...hello? Oh my God hello!" | Wishing to be immortal was the worst mistake I have ever made. If I could go back and change it, God knows I would. I remember when I rubbed that lamp, and the damn genie popped out like it was nothing.
"Hello, master," the genie said with a booming voice. "You get one wish. No wishing for love, death, or more wishes."
"Wait, what?" I asked dumbfounded. "I thought it was three?"
"Well, we changed it. What is your wish?"
I knew right then what I wanted. I was a stupid seventeen-year-old girl, and it was 1859. I wanted so badly to be able to live forever, why, I don't even know. I guess it was so I could check off everything on my bucket list or something. Thinking back, I could have just said "I wish to live until I've completed my entire bucket list." He granted my wish, then he and the lamp disappeared.
It's been 700 years since then. I've been alone 20 of those 700 years. I still remember the day it happened, it was so sudden. An earthquake. More specific, the most intense earthquake known to man, that affected the entire Earth. It was so strong, it wasn't even able to be charted. Not that it mattered. The eartquake snapped the planet clean in half, made thousands of sinkholes that engulfed buildings and families, caused massive tsunamies that took out the best of the areas, as well as huge volcano eruptions. The entire world was gone within 5 minutes. Except for me, because my wish was to live forever. Time is irrelevant, I'm starving but I'll never die. I'm exhausted but I'll never die. Thirsty like a mother effer, but I'll never die. Lonely. Lonely forever. I'm stuck in a never-ending loop of torture.
I still have my phone. Even after all these years on this singular piece of land that somehow managed to make it through the devastation, my phone is still at 100%. It never goes down. I use it to my advantage. I often find myself scrolling through my contacts to find people close to me, and I call them. They never answer, but they all have voicemails.
"Hi, this is Cindy. Sorry I can't make it to the phone right now, but I'll call you back when I get your message. Love ya! beeeeeep." Then I hang up.
"Hi, you've reached Bob. Busy right now, just leave a message. beeeeep." Hang up.
"Damn it, I'm busy, you know what to do at the beep. beeeeeep." Hang up.
Sometimes, I even leave messages. None are opened. Cindy, my ex-wife, the last one I ever had, is the most common person I call. She was my favorite wife, she was beautiful, kind, and the one that took my whole heart.
"Hi, love, it's Luna.. I, uh.. I miss you. I hate this, I hate myself. I never should have wished for immortality. I could be dancing around with you in Heaven if not for my stupid, stupid self." I cry every time I end my message. I shame myself for being stupid. She has 384 unread messages from me. I miss her.
I scrolled deeper into my contacts to see if I could find anyone else I happen to remember. Then I see her - my best friend, Julie. I had forgotten about her. I clicked her contact, saw she had her voicemail box set up, and pressed call. I set the phone against my ear, expecting her familiar voice to flutter through my ears telling me to call her back later, but it didn't.
"Hello?" a voice says shyly. "Hello? Oh, my God, hello!"
"Wha-?" I mutter. "W-Who is this?"
"What the- Luna, is that you?!"
"I- Uh, Julie?"
"Luna, what the hell are you still doing here?"
"The same as you, I guess!" I said excitedly. "Where are you? How the hell are you still alive?!"
"A stupid wish I made when I was 15!" she said." "What about you?!"
"Same! Immortality? God, where are you?!"
"Let me send you a picture!"
Not too long after, I hear my message tone. The first time a message came to me in 20 years. I opened it. The photo contained a small peice of land with a few palm trees, grass, and sand. Waves clashed the beach in the photo. It was a beautiful photo. I looked around. Palm trees. Grass. Sand. Were we on the same island? | I couldn't believe it when I heard an actual person's actual voice. And not just some stupid recording but an actual voice talking back to me. Actually responding to the words I just said? At first I was skeptical, I thought it might be one of those annoying voicemail messages where they pretend like they actually picked up and then it turns out to be a prank and they did not pick up at all. But I tested it by farting into the phone, and she actually responded and asked me if I just farted into the phone. I lied because I was embarrassed and told her I shit my pants to throw her off the trail. This was the first human I've talked to in decades, I wasn't going to fuck this up.
She asked me where I was, and i told her I was in Idaho. She said she was in Florida. We started to make plans to meet each other. At first she wanted me to come to Florida, but I told her there was no way in hell that I would ever go to Florida, even if it was before the apocalypse. We agreed that we should meet in the middle, which was Kansas. Not much better than Florida, but all things considered I figured it was fine.
I started packing up my things. I always end up forgetting one thing when I travel, so I was trying to be extras careful. Towel, underwear, toothbrush, phone charger... Ugh, this is why I hate traveling.
Finally I set off on my adventure. I put on my backpack and started walking. I hoped on the way I would be able to find a running car, otherwise this was going to take a while one foot. Especially a bad knee. I was also worried about all the demon spirits that were flying around ever since the end of the world, but I figured why would a demon spirit want to go to Kansas? I was probably safe.
On our journey, every day we would chat on the phone at night. I started feeling smitten towards her. Despite the fact that she was from Florida she did have some good qualities about her. The main one was that she was alive. All the girls I've talked to in the last twenty years have been dead, so she is doing amazing on that front.
After a couple months I finally arrived in Kansas City. I relax, happy to know I finally can stop walking. I find an empty house that I can live in for the time being. It is not the biggest house on the block, but moving has become incredibly easy even since everybody died so I am not worried about it. I can upgrade whenever I want. I wait for her for a couple weeks, but she is slower than me. She asks me if I could keep walking towards her so that we can meet in the middle.
I tell her we had an agreement and she should stick to it.
She tells me she understands but we could meet sooner if I just put in a little more effort
I tell her that the division of labor was equal, we chose a spot that we equidistant from both of us, so I should not have to feel bad about finishing the task sooner than her.
She says she knows it was equidistant, she is just asking if I can be flexible.
I pack up my bags and move back to Idaho. | 2022-12-21T12:14:53 | 2022-12-21T12:11:16 | 98 | 55 |
[WP] A suicide hotline operator realizes that the person he's talking down really should kill themselves. | "H-hello? Operator?"
"Ma'am, yes, please stay with us."
"God, help me. *sniff* I don't *want* to die!"
"It's ok, ma'am, you don't have to die."
"I do, I *do*, oh Lord, why must it be *me*?"
"Where is your present location, Ms... Ms-"
"S-Svenson, dear. 46th and Maple. Don't come, please."
"Ms. Svenson, the display shows there are already a lot of units in that area-"
"I know, I know! God, help, it's so hot here."
"Ma'am, you've dialed a sui-"
"*sniff* Tell me I'm going to live, p-please."
---
"Hey, Jen, check the TV," a co-worker called from the back of the kiosk.
The news focused on a high-rise. There, a woman, in her early thirties, huddled by an open window. The woman was crying into a cell phone as a fire tore up the cubicles behind her.
"*sniff* Tell me I'm going to live, p-please."
Jen looked at the phone in front of her and back at the television. The firemen would not reach Ms. Svenson in time.
"Ms. Svenson, I..."
Jen paused.
"I-It's your job, right? To tell people they are going to live?"
"You're going to live, ma'am. ...But-"
"But what?"
"Ms. Svenson. I..."
"What is it?"
"I need you to jump for me."
"But the firemen-"
"They can't make it up there, Ms. Svenson. They've set up a life net for you."
But it was a lie.
"I'm scared."
The woman on the television approached one of the burst-out windows.
...
"You're going to live, Ms. Svenson."
She turned off the television, and cried. | Not to get in the way of people being creative but there is Never a time where a Crisis line operator would think this. It goes against everything they are trained to do, the person on the other end of the line is looking to you for help. Unless you've been in that situation, you really have no idea how invested these operators get in trying to preserve another person's life. Also, we make a professional point not to judge anyone who calls into a crisis line, to pull a 180 would go against literally everything they stand for. Suicide is never the answer | 2013-12-23T15:11:05 | 2013-12-23T14:21:09 | 50 | 10 |
[WP] Due to a rare brain condition you've spent your entire life hallucinating the presence of a six foot tall penguin. You're on a date one day when you're asked "So what's the deal with the penguin?" | “Hey, Tux...just for today, could you maybe...I don’t know, not distract me too much?”
That was me, talking to a penguin that only I could see. For lack of a better explanation, I was born with a brain condition like no other. Scientists still don’t really get how or why a penguin manifests in my line of sight, but he’s there for good.
At first, I hated the fact that I was burdened with this fella, but sooner or later, I kinda started liking him. Even named him Tux.
Of course, he doesn’t reply. He’s not real.
Normally, I could make due with the fact that Tux would waddle around and put on a show, seemingly just to mess with me, but today was different.
I had a date.
The last week or so had been spent practicing trying to ignore Tux, but that’s really hard when he slides around on his belly and then starts spinning like he’s some breakdancer.
It had gotten so bad that I resorted to bargaining with my imaginary friend. I had no clue whether or not that’d work, but it was worth a try, I thought in my desperation.
So the day had finally come, and I was standing outside the restaurant, Tux jiving about like he knew he was extra annoying.
My date, a stunning young lady by the name of Lisa, emerged from her car and walked jauntily towards me, ignoring that any misstep with those heels on would spell utter doom for her.
“Hey, I hope I didn’t make you wait!”, she giggled, so excited to see me.
I would’ve replied with something as cute as her, but Tux honked as if he were the one she was talking to.
“So what’s the deal with the penguin?”, Lisa asked, bending down to greet Tux.
My brain immediately went to making some sort of joke about Tux, only for me to realize that someone was addressing my imaginary friend.
“Wait, you can see him!?”
“Hm? Yeah, I can. I gotta say, though. You’re pretty lucky you got saddled with a penguin.”, she said, her cheeks adopting a faint red hue.
Before I could ask what she meant by that, I felt a rumbling as a presence emerged from her car.
“This DOES make this part much easier, though.”, Lisa snickered. “Say hello to Silver!”
And there he was, a silverback gorilla that only my date and I could see. Just like Tux, he was grooving about like he owned the world.
“It’s much easier ignoring a penguin than a gorilla, lemme tell you.”, she said. “So, you come here often, or..?” | "So what's the deal with the penguin?", she asked.
"Oh, that thing my brother was talking about?" I said, "You know those stories about people with brain damage, where it has only one super-specific effect? Like that guy who had a spike run through his head, and he survived, but it turned him into a dick?"
"Oh yeah, that was that guy in the mine, wait did your head get impaled or something?"
"No, I fell off a bike."
I pulled back my hair and showed her the scar.
"Yeah, back when I was 12, and the only effect it has ever had on me, is that I hallucinate seeing a 6 foot tall gentoo penguin all over the place. I see him right now, reflected in the window behind you. I eventually just got used to it."
"Oh." she replied, seeming confused.
"Then, why can I see it too?" She pointed over my shoulder, and I turned, a strange sinking feeling washing over me. Had the world gone mad? Were the thoughts of my diseased mind somehow manifesting in the outside world?
I saw it, then, on the screen of the food kiosk behind me, a sight returning me to sanity.
A penguin mascot was walking around, handing out some sort of pamphlet. | 2021-03-14T05:27:46 | 2021-03-14T05:10:11 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] As Greg passes a girl on the street, she says, "Hey, Josh." Josh was his twin brother who died when they were kids. Greg's a middle-aged man now. | "Sorry, what?"
At first, Greg thought he must have misheard the blonde woman. More than thirty years had passed since Josh's death and not surprising, almost as many since he was last mentioned.
"It's Josh, right?" she repeated, "I know it's been a long time, but I'd recognize that face anywhere."
Who would, after all these years, remember Joshua? Greg knew that there had not been anyone close outside the family.
She pressed on, "What's it been? Almost thirty years now?"
A long second passed before Greg replied "At least thirty I'd guess."
The woman lit up. "So it is you!" she exclaimed. "It's me, Catherine. Don't know if you'd remember but we took Spanish together in Jr. High."
What a memory some people have, an old classmate remembering Josh's face and name almost a lifetime later. It was impressive but it had to stop.
"I'm sorry, but I..."
"Oh, no worries!" Catherine interjected, "I didn't really expect you to. Only reason I remembered was due to the crush I had on you being all dark and moody. You know, being a teen and all. I found you deep and mysterious." Her last comment was finished of with a smirk.
Joshua had been her teenage crush, it was as simple as that, and if Josh had known of her back then, it could have made a world's difference. Heck, he might even have been standing here beside her talking about grand-kids. The thought about grand-kids was too much for Greg and he could feel tears starting to form, but he quickly wiped them away before Catherine could notice. She didn't know of Joshuas death and neither should she. She didn't deserve being riddled with the same kind of guilt Greg had for not being there.
So he decided to play along, speaking of what could have been instead of actually happened. Letting all of the guilt rise to the surface again. | And away she fled
past the callow lamplight at the corner of the road
dread set in his head was Lead
past the styx limits of an apathetic city
______________________
though Josh lays dead
his coffin a vase underneath the stairs
she called his name instead
his cough innocuous to the heavens
____________________________
and now his echos tread
along an empty ward where his mind may rest through
his tomb soon his bed
a long and empty night | 2016-03-13T03:23:35 | 2016-03-13T00:17:30 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] You have drunkenly been discussing the Dark Lord with other tavern patrons, insulting him to no end. When someone storms up demanding you stop as he is one of the Dark Lords students. Strange thing is you don’t remember teaching this kid. | Jaren sat in his chair and swayed. He eyed the mug in front of him and huffed a sigh of disappointment at the slightly stale ale he'd been trying to finish off. It tasted like piss but it was doing the job of getting him drunk."
The bloody bastard really should fuck off shouldn't he," Jaren tossed at the whispering commoners who had been talking about him. Jaren threw his head back and laughed at their irritation and fear as he openly belittled that which their worst nightmare. It was plain on their face how horrified they were he would dare so openly challenge the thought of the dark lord.
To be fair they they didn’t know HE was the dark lord so no ill will would come to him. All they saw was a drunk idiot trying to get himself killed. In all actuality he probably was trying to get himself killed, though he never lingered to long on that idea. Everyone died eventually after all. Some just more painfully than others.
If only they knew who sat amongst them. Oh they would piss their pants for sure. Jaren laughed even louder at the though. He’d seen it enough to know exactly what it would be like.His myth was growing day by day. The more they feared him the more “un-holy” powers they gave him. As his moniker passed from each pair of lips the more fantastic the stories became they spread them around. He was a dark god out for vengeance. A demon sent to harry them for their mis-deeds. A boogyman in the dark that could hear them call his name and destroy the family that dared to utter the syllables he was known by. How stupid they were. He was nothing then a mere mortal given a self appointed quest to teach them all a lesson.
Jarens lips quirked up in a smile as he listened to the whispers around him once more. Setting his mug down he motioned to the barkeep to fill it again. Hushed tones full of hate, fear and even some healthy respect. He loved it. He loved it all. How hard he’d worked for others to fear him it was good to listen to them quake. They were cowards all of them. Each and every single one of them would talk a big game but when push came to shove they would stand by and do nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Half these fools would stand and spectate as horrible atrocities were done. The other half would turn tale and run. The rare few just might stand up to him. Those he would spare. Those deserved respect in their own right.
Too bad not a single one of them had stepped up to challenge him. Not yet. Soon one would grow a pair enough to truly be a threat to his rule. He honestly looked forward to that day. Until then he’d keep on his fight. He’d march his army to one town after another until he ruled this continent. The cowards deserved nothing less than to live in the filth they created.
“The Dark Lord and his bloody minions. Pox on them,” he tossed out just to watch the people flinch and flinch they did.
“Stop. Stop speaking ill of him. I’ll not have you slander My Lord,” A young voice sounded to his right.
Jaren paused with his mug halfway to his lips and turned his head slowly to regard the young buck that dared interrupt him. The boy was barely 15 years old. His face dirt smudged and pimpled. His voice cracking as he spoke. The boys clothes were worn and stitched haphazardly to keep the thread bare pieces together. Jaren raised an eyebrow at him. Taunting him.
The boy continued to clinch and unclinch his hands as if wanting to strike him but knowing it would be futile. Jaren was no small man. Sitting at just above six feet and muscle built over hours of hard labor he turned his full regard to the boy.
“Your lord? How is he your lord? You look like you’ve barely kissed a woman much less met the Dark Lord.” Jarens voice had deepened as he considered the young boy who had paled as Jaren faced him.
The boy swallowed twice before he managed to speak again but his voice was surprisingly calmg given the subtle shaking in his hands.“You don’t understand him. Why he does what he does. Don’t slander what you don’t know,”
“And you understand the Dark lord’s motivations do you?” Jaren let the false merriment drop from his face and regarded the boy with all the dark emotions swirling in the pit of his stomach. The boy went to take a step back but caught himself. “And what prey tell is the Dark Lords motivations?”
The boy drew his spine straight and even managed to puff out his chest a tad before he spoke. “To teach others a lesson in humility. To break them until they build themselves back up. To remind them to stand together and remember to help their fellows,” He boys voice grew more confidant as he spoke. Though he deflated slightly as he ended his statement. Confidence was not this ones strong suit. But the boy had spirit. Heart. That was rare.
The boy spoke as if he knew Jaren though had never seen him before. He’d have recalled this sort of mind within his ranks. This boy was a surprise. He would never have guessed that insight would come from one so young. A child barely old enough to know how to shave had figured out what most grown men couldn’t see. This child held promise.
“Come with me son. I have a proposition for you,” Jaren stepped off his stool and pulled the boy to his side. Confidently striding to the door with the boy tucked under his arm, the confusion evident on his face but he followed.
Yes this child would fit well within his ranks. | The air was heavy with the scent of vomit on the sawdust packed floors. My companions guzzled their ale as the wind blew through the opening windows, causing the candles to flicker in the dimly lit room. This is where I thrived, I thought, as I emptied another tankard and set it on the the edge of the table. The dark, the rank, the uncivilized corners of the Earth, this is what I live for. It had been a long time since I took to dwelling here, but I felt the need for connections with what I had helped create.
The stout man sitting across from me slurred out "'e gotta take it out on us little guys, since 'e lost the Great War." The table nodded with enthusiastic agreement. A younger chap sitting to the man's right, growing bolder with each drink, elaborated "And he's too much of a loser to fight humanity face to face!" I chuckled as I added "Oh, that not likely a face you'd WANT to see! Probably as UGLY as I am!" The table erupted in raucous laughter, though a few people cast sideways glances around the room.
This is what I loved about humans so much. Their will to SURVIVE. Life and death, light and darkness- each of these things interconnected with its other half but these PEOPLE are so damned determined to live that they view them as separate entities, with one half that needs to be defeated. I found it so novel, so unlike the thinking of infinite civilizations I had seen rise and fall before them, that I decided to acquiesce to this idea. My other half became the embodiment of all they considered "good," whilst I separated and came here to live among them, to study them, and tonight- to drink with them.
A woman in the corner made a sign with her hands, a universal gesture in this region believed to keep ME away. Every part of the world had their own names for me and ways of comforting themselves by thinking they could keep me at bay. I grinned at her and called for another drink and the tavern settled down from the commotion the conversation our table was having. This town had been hit hard recently by a plague of beetles that wiped out their staple crop. Many had died and the people wore their grief under the veneer of their pride. I was of course, being blamed for it, though it was LIFE that brought the abundance of insects into existence- not I. I paid for another round for the party and tipped the barkeep handsomely, it was the least I could do.
As the drinks were brought in a cloaked figure entered the bar. The slim silhouette almost seemed to glide towards the table. Slight fingers went up to the edge of the hood and revealed a beautiful woman with auburn hair and fierce green eyes. "I hear you slander My Master" she said as a murderous look flashed over her face. "Who, The Dark One?" The older man chuckled as he drunkenly reached for the woman standing there. She touched his arm as she moved out of his grasp and I gasped as I realized what she had done. With a single touch, infected cells started spreading throughout his body, even as he smiled and made a lewd comment about her graze. Who was she, with this Power, the same as mine? I had never shared gifts with my students and I would certainly never taken on someone with such a cruel disposition. I watched as she touched another of my associates, a smile coming over her face as she doomed him to death within days. Was she the reason my reputation seemed even worse recently?
I snapped out of my initial shock and stood up grabbing her arm before she could lay hands on another. What felt like a wave of electricity jolted through me, the power she held was more than I could have imagined. My mind raced as I was forced back to my seat, sending the rest of the taverns occupants out in a panic. I'd have to do something I hadn't done in millennia-I mentally called on my other half, we would have to be whole to stop her, I thought. I reached out to nothingness as a sudden feeling of emptiness caused me to retch. "We need to talk" she said. "Oh God, no, please..." I uttered as she used a sharply manicured finger to lift my chin up. There was no answer. | 2022-01-14T16:16:54 | 2022-01-14T15:49:14 | 134 | 56 |
[WP] "If you plan on going somewhere dangerous, bring a human" | "Stop, Felix. The prey flew beyond the Wall... into the forest." Hazel said as she stopped just in front of the gate; a rotting wooden edifice nearly three times her height.
Felix, the younger of the pair, pushed his face against a hole in the Wall. "So?" he quipped, "Let's go get it!" Felix attempted to nudge the gate open before Hazel pushed him aside.
"No! It is too dangerous!" She said, "We must get a human."
Felix, suddenly defensive, began to whine. "The humans will scoff at us for failing to catch their prey! What kind of Allies aren't even brave enough to pass the Wall?"
"Smart ones." Hazel growled, "Have YOU ever been beyond the Wall?" Hazel knew the answer, but relished in the silence of extinguished bravado. "So what if I haven't?" snapped Felix at last, "How bad can it be?"
Hazel shook her head, causing her necklace to jingle. "You youngsters think that the Walls are our prisons... Do you want to know why the forest is bad?" Felix's eye roll was almost audible.
Hazel peered up at the canopy of the forest. "They say it is a place of no laws. No one is given food, drink, or mate. They must fight for it every day. One can so easily be confused by the unending scents of violence, fear, and lust. You will follow it deep into the woods and never emerge."
Hazel could smell the doubt in Felix, so she went on. "It is alluring for young ones such as you. They dart into the woods with such curiosity and intent, and then when night falls they have lost their way. We are not the wild things that our ancestors were. The beasts that rule there now will consume you. If you are lucky you will catch the scent of your home, and you will beg to be let within the Walls again!" Hazel's nose twitched; another volley of dogma would do little to help this rascal.
Felix spoke with resentful respect: "Lady, old folk stories are sweet... but I don't want to let my human down just because its scary out there. Just let me run out and get our prey. I can see it through here, what's the worst that can happen?"
"Why don't you ask your Predecessor!?" snapped Hazel suddenly. Felix's ears darted back at the sound; both her tone and scent betrayed legitimate fear and anger. Felix tilted his head as he awaited his answer.
"You aren't the First of your name, Felix! That was my brother, as dumb and rash as you! He ran into the forest before this Wall was even built, when our human was as small as we. We searched for days. At first his scent was brave, then fearful, then it only faded into nothing."
Hazel was whimpering now, her voice bouncing up and down as it struggled with each word: "And you think the human was happy? Pleased that his faithful Ally had braved the Wilds? You have never seen a Man so distraught! You have heard them whimper, but I watched as he HOWLED. And it was my duty not to grieve. Not to weep for my own kin as our human cried rivers into my hair."
Felix the Second was silent, in stark contrast to the high pitched cries coming from his older companion. He was unused to such emotion, and feared that any attempt to comfort his friend would only provoke another tirade.
At last the whines died down, and through wet eyes Hazel regained her composure. "That's why you ALWAYS bring a human somewhere dangerous, Felix," Hazel scolded once her voice had recovered, "because if you die, you won't be the only one who suffers."
With a jingle of her necklace, Hazel turned to get their human, leaving Felix the Second watching the Gate, tail just slightly between his legs. | "Why would I want one?" Hareem ask.
"Why would you want one!" Dahn jetted back in disbelief. "LOOK at them! Their physique and anatomy is just about as perfect as you could ask for, at least of any beings in this galaxy."
With what seemed like a bit of sympathy for the humans, Hareem humbly explained "Well, yea I noticed, but I just thought with their limited intellect that..."
Dahn interrupts "Look, that is really beside the point, they are still tremendously valuable in these dangerous situations. Yes, their intellect is definitely limited, but with those powerful legs and thick arms cant you just imagine?"
Hareem shakes his head approvingly and says "Well, yea obviously they could be a lifesaver, I was just worried about how well behaved or useful they would be before being needed" (in an obvious lie to hide his misplaced sympathy)
After a moment of silence and a disapproving look at Hareem, Dahn continues. "Well that is the best part. They really enjoy the exploration and as far as being useful for other stuff, they can even carry quite a bit until they are needed so that is an added bonus. Just promise them a few bits of Drisdal ore, they call it "gold" and they will happily go along and stay close until you REALLY need them. "
"Ohh wow, I guess I didn't realize just how intellectually limited they are. OK I am on board" Hareem continued, "I am on a mission next week and things could get really ugly. The terrain is unforgiving and we dont know what kind of life we will find.... and I do have some extra gear I wasn't going to be able to bring."
Dahn chimed in "What were you going to bring instead? Parthans?"
"yea" said Hareem "I think they are really good"
"They are, but nothing like a human. Just be sure that you dont prep them like you do the Parthans and when you need them (the humans) you should dispatch them more quickly than you do a Parthans" Dahn cautioned
"Why is that" questioned Hareem
"Because, they can make a lot more noise than the Parthans and if you prepare them the same it will overdo them." Dahn explained
"well why don't you give me some of your favorite recipes then" begged Hareem | 2016-06-19T21:38:22 | 2016-06-19T14:00:47 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | Doors shrieked from their hinges as men in clattering armor started pulling the large mahogany doors inwards, presenting a figure with wings that may determine the kingdom's future.
"My king, I present to you the head of Sanjurn The Great, Wielder of the Eastern Spears."
A womanly voice echoed in the chambers. This winged figure flapped her wings to gain flight and gracefully flew towards the throne, rays of sunlight gleaming from chamber's windows. Landing a good distance from the king, she presented the head of Sanjurn The Great, an eastern emperor that has waged war on them for decades.
"With him dead, you have the whole eastern continent in your hands, my lord."
The King was frail, his eyes were wary and the skin beneath his eyes swelled in a dark tone. And yet; the taste of victory gave him strength to smile from ear to ear and rise up to his height.
"You are truly a miracle that has blessed this kingdom!" Shouted the King. "You have now avenged your mother's and father's death by your actions today, my child. And TODAY, we unite the land with the banner of GOD."
As the king spoke his last heavenly word, he slumped back to his throne, clearly shaken from his own outburst.
"Yes, Sanjurn has paid fully with his own death by my hands. I feel I can rest easy now." She said as she turns Sanjurn's head towards her, meeting the dead emperor's pale eyes.
And in those reflection of the dead man's eyes she can she herself smile as now she knows that her plans has come to fruitation. A plan that started the moment she felt the need to slit the throats of her parent's. To escape the control of them isolating her from the world. To protect her from evil, as they have said. Now her thirst to massacre millions is close, she just needs to take the throne.
\------------------------------------
Everyone had been fooled. She slit the her parent's throats in the night. Then dragging her parent's bodies to seem as if there was a struggle. Breaking furniture and the like. When it was done she sprinkled herself in blood. Found a place to hide yelped so that the town can hear.
She was an angel, even in her child-like being her yell was heard far away to the king's sleeping chambers. The king and his family was awakened. They were bewilderd by this angelic voice calling for help and so the kingdom's guards were send to investigate this voice.
Later that morning, the hinges of the mahogany doors were opened quietly. As the doors gave way to view the inner hallway a small child was escorted by three guards. One leads the way as the others let the child hold on to their hands, as if they were her parents. She showed fear and reluctance upon her face. She was clothed with a leather cap and a long tattered blouse.
"Sire, this child is the one that has made the loud shouting last night." A lead guard said. The two guards then let go of the child's hand and step two feet back.
"A child? What is this foolery!" Blood started collecting to the king's face, showing bright tint of red. "I will have you sent to the dungeon for this mockery!" Slamming his throne's chair with his balled fist.
"Sire, she is an Angel" Said the lead guard. He lowered his head, hiding the fear from his face. "Her parent's were killed by assassins." Stated the guard. "It seems she was suppose to be kidnapped, but her shouting may have scared the assassins away."
The guards then presented to the king the evidence. Upon removal of her cap, a halo began to form on top of her head and upon turning her around they removed her blouse to show white angelic wings.
"So the propechy was not heresay." The expressionless king said. "Is that fortune teller still in the dungeon?" Asked the king to his hand.
"No sire, she died a few month's ago, rats knawed her raw when she went crazy....her intes.." The king waved his hand to signal the hand to stop.
"Unfortunate, but it's clear to see that this child is the good one from her propechy" A small smile began to form from the king's mouth. "Child! Come closer."
The angel was reluctant. The lead guard lightly pushed her, leading her to shuffle through the woven red carpets. Stopping within two arm's length of the king.
"I know who killed your parents!" Sternly said by the king. "If you wish to avenge them, you will be part of my crusade for God!"
"In my name as King Radan The Conqueror, you shall be my knight" The king then unsheathed his sword. "Do you swear your service to me?"
As the king pointed his sword towards the frightened angel, words came from her mouth, saying, "I will be of service." The angel lowering her head to a bow.
The king in that day felt that with the this prophecy he will finally win the war, but he had made a large blunder that day. A grave mistake that will lead to the destruction of his family, his kingdom, and himself.
\-----------------------------------------
The sound of heavy footstep's is heard afar. The angel removed her focus from her reflection. A messenger hurriedly went pass the doors and stopped a few steps to catch his breath.
"Sire, the Eastern City has been taken!" The sweating messenger wheezing out his message.
The king found new strength to stand from his throne yet again. This time from the swell of rage and anger.
"HOW?" The king said, almost losing his voice.
"There was an army from the mountains!" Said the messenger. "Reports say it was lead by the devil!"
The king loses his strength yet again....letting himself fall towards his throne, dragging the throne backwards.
"The prophecy has come to bite me back." He said as he massaged his face with his right hand. "Jophiel, you know what must be done."
"Yes, my lord." Jophiel turns around and flies towards the door, clutching the head on her stomach. "So it's finally time to face my sibling, how wonderful this would be. Isn't that right Sanjurn?" A smile like no other showed in her face, a menacing smile that will plant fear into the hearts of men.
\-----------------------------------------
In the eastern capital, upon the throne of the dead Sanjurn, sits the devil. His horns curved into frightful angles. Leathery wings jutted out of his back, large enough to gain flight. His face was handsome and smooth. He showed the makings of someone evil. A man that will destroy kingdoms and massacre its citizens.
He lifted himself off from his throne and flew towards the castle's balcony. Deafening screams are heard from outside. As he approached the doors to the balcony, guards swiftly opened it. Showing the red sky and the smell of the mass of people. He stepped out into the light and the screams became louder as his figure formed fuller and fuller to the people below.
"Lucifer!" "Lucifer!" "Lucifer!" "Lucifer!" "Lucifer!"
When the Devil had shown his full figure to the eastern people, it became clear what the people were showing. They did not cry his name to drive him away, it was a welcome to him. It was cheers to the new benevolent emperor of the Eastern continent. A possible savior to the oppression of Sanjurn and Radan.
As the citizen's started to cry tears for their savior, he quieted them down by raising his arms. The citizens quieted down to a mutter and then to silence. As it was clear to him that he must state that he will be their new emperor, there was something else in his mind first. It started when he was sent away when he was a baby.
And from only his thoughts, the first words he tells himself is,
"I'm coming for you, sister." | Towards the end of her long and mysterious life, the Seer of Misty Mountain was rarely seen. Those that sought her wisdom had to undertake the tiresome trek to her mountain home, bearing with them drink or livestock or some curious rarity as payment for her services. Though no trip was in vain-- the milky white third eye in the center of the Seer's forehead Marked her as a gifted fortune-teller-- the people realized that she had made herself scarce by design, and respectfully only availed themselves of her when her guidance was truly required.
It was strange, then, that one midnight, a village carpenter opened his door to find the wrinkled visage of the Seer herself on his doorstep. Her third eye glowed with a dim light, and though the carpenter had never visited her himself, he had heard the stories. He knew what that light meant.
"Um, come in, madam Seer," he said.
The Seer swept into his house without a word, and ignored him when he asked if she wanted some tea. Her frail frame shook underneath her dusty cloak and cowl: he offered her a chair, which she collapsed into with the gratitude borne of desperation.
"Tovu," croaked the Seer finally, when she'd caught her breath somewhat. The carpenter grimaced. This was the name his mother had called him when he was a child. It seemed... threatening, coming out of the mouth of such a wizened, enigmatic hag, and yet at the same time it turned his vague, all-purpose respect for her into a much more focused compulsion to listen to what she had to say. This woman *knew* things.
"Your wife... twins. Marked. One will be... greatest evil... snuff out stars... other will... stop them... save world."
The carpenter stared at her. His wife, still asleep in their bed, was indeed with child. His first thought was pride-- his firstborn children, Marked *twins*. Nobody in living memory could claim that, as far as he knew. Then the rest of the Seer's words caught up with him.
"Wait-- this has to be a-- a joke!"
The Seer shook her head sadly, and then she slumped forward, the light of her third eye dead.
___
When the carpenter awoke the next day, the Seer had vanished. He tried to convince himself that it had simply been a terrible dream-- but then he found a strange silver charm shaped like a snake eating its own tail in the seat he remembered offering to the Seer. Newly jumpy and queasy, he shoved it in his breeches before his wife noticed it.
After breakfast, he left for the temple immediately. He didn't know much about Marks and the gods-- only the tales he'd heard as a boy-- so he needed to consult the village's only expert, its Marked priest. While Jetel's gift was far less impressive than the Seer's, having it at all gave him a far greater claim to a connection with the gods than anybody else the carpenter knew.
When the carpenter explained his story, Jetel was politely unconvinced until he saw the silver snake charm.
"Tobias, where did you get this?" he exclaimed.
"I told you," groused the carpenter, "from the Seer last night."
Jetel stared at him. "So *she* really came to *you*?"
"Yes!"
Jetel spent some time thinking. "Have you told Anisha?" he said, finally.
The carpenter shrugged. "No, not yet," he admitted.
"Nothing at all?" Jetel pressed.
"No," said the carpenter. "I... it's not good news, so..."
"I understand completely," Jetel said.
"Should I?"
Jetel made a face, and the carpenter was reminded of a time when they were kids and Jetel had suggested climbing into a paddock of sheep to play. He'd made the same face just before a grown-up had rounded the corner of a nearby grain silo and caught them.
"When a prophecy is given," he started delicately, "it often behooves us to ask *why* it was given."
The carpenter nodded intently. Jetel often lost him early on in these diatribes, but this time the matter was important. The safety of his family was at stake.
"To help us answer that question, it is important to look at *who* the prophecy was given to-- particularly in an unusual case such as yours, where the Seer sought you out specifically." Jetel inhaled sharply. "I believe the Seer arrived when she did because she *knew* that your wife would not be awake to witness it."
The carpenter squinted. "So, she doesn't want me to tell Anisha?"
Jetel shrugged. "Maybe. The way I would put it is, she has given you the choice to control which parts of the prophecy Anisha will hear. For example, Anisha does not yet know she is carrying twins, yes?"
"Uh, yes," the carpenter said.
"Perhaps, then, the Seer meant to spare Anisha the heartbreak of knowing that she has brought a terrible evil into this world. Perhaps you need only tell her that your child will grow up to save us all from a terrible evil."
"What about the other one?"
Jetel smiled cryptically. "She doesn't have to know she's having twins until she sees them both."
The carpenter did not know much about giving birth, but this seemed to violate some things he held to be common sense about the process. "Won't she, um, feel the second child?"
Jetel shrugged. "The gifts of the Marked work in strange ways." When the carpenter didn't seem convinced, he added, "I'll invite you and Anisha over for tea in the coming week. I'll be able to get a *look* at the twins and adjust our plans from there."
___
Tea came and went. That night, Tobias loudly expressed a desire to go on an evening walk and convened with Jetel in the temple once again.
"A *six* and a *seven*," Jetel said gravely. "We'll have to check their Marks to be sure once they're born, but by my reckoning the *six* will be the one we exile."
"And you think we'll be able to... remove one of them? Without Anisha noticing?"
Jetel nodded, a touch tersely. "*Sixes* are... stealthy. If the gods are with us, their gift should work with us rather than against us... at least, until they grow old and threaten the world with it."
With the plan set, there was little else to do but wait for the twins to be born. | 2020-05-07T09:01:37 | 2020-05-07T08:59:43 | 43 | 21 |
[WP] As the infected sprinted towards me, I quickly swung my bat. It connected and he fell in a heap, crying out in pain. He looked scared and confused, but his humanity only showed for a moment, before the rage took hold again. It appeared that pain made these 'zombies' briefly human again. | I felt the surge of adrenaline course through my veins as necessity dictated that I act. I turn around, pivoting on my backfoot, putting all my weight behind the swing. *Thwack* The sound of my bat slamming it's jaw echoed through the hall. The creature dropped like a sack of grain, spilling bile and blood on the wooden floor. An agonal moment of silence hung in the air. All I heard was the sound of my own labored breath. Was it dead? Did I actually kill it? A gluttaral groan escaped the creatures lips.
I guess not.
I tightened the grip on my bat, preparing to defend myself. This time I'd aim for it's skull. It slowly lurched to it's side, looking to pick itself up.
"H-Help... me." The infected managed to mutter through a shattered jaw. The creature grabbed at its chin and with a sickening snap, it realigned it's unhinged mouth.
Beads of sweat poured down my face as, I stared at it in absolute shock.
"Please. It hurts so much. Please help me and make the pain go away." It sat up, leaning against the nearby wall. It looked at me, not with a monsters gaze, but with human eyes that suddenly regained clarity. What was going on? Was it somehow reverting from it's infected state.
"I-" I hesistated. What the hell was I supposed to do here? "Are you- are you actually... *you*?
A hundred questions ran through it's mind. It looked pensive, unsure. "I think so. I don't know how or why, but I can think again. I can feel again. I'm... I'm in control."
What in the actual hell, I thought. I'd never heard of an infected regain it's mental faculties. Once they went feral all that was left for that person was to be put down.
"I think when you hit me, something in my mind snapped." It reasoned. "It was like the locked door that my mind was stuffed behind suddenly opened."
My body almost went slack hearing this. This could change everything! What we knew about the infected was wrong, these people were still there. They could be reached!
"Who are you? What's your name? What can you remember?" Questions. So many questions I had.
"My names Edgar Strong. I was bit by an infected about a week ago when I was trying to get... when I was trying to get food for my family. Fuck! Oh shit, my family! I need to get back to my wife, my kids!" It tried to hoist itself up. Reflexively, I held my bat in a swinging posture. Edgar froze. "Wait, I promise. I'm not going to try to eat you. I'm me again and I need to find my family."
I wanted to believe him. I could hear the longing in his voice. Still, it was hard to look past the molted skin, the exposed bone, it's blood stained teeth. "Hold on. Wait just a second." I was trying to think. Did I help him? Could I chance it?
I shook my head, lowering my bat a little. "I'll... I'll help you. But first you need to tell me what happened to you. No one understands what's happening to you people. Once you turn, you go berserk. This is the first instance where an infected actually spoke. You could be the key to so many questions!"
It looked at me with annoyance. "Look I don't really care about all that. I need to know if my kids are alright. Do you understand?"
"I do. I really do. I've got kids back at the shelter, waiting for me to get back."
"Alright so help me find mine!"
"I will, alright, I said I will. Just help me understand what happened to you. When you got bit, what happened to your mind. Why did you start losing control? Why didn't you stop yourself from attacking others?"
A dark cloud crossed Edgar's face. "I..." There was a pain there. Pain and anger. "It's blurry. I remember bits and pieces. But all the while it was like I was stuck in some sort of brain fog. I could see my surrondings, I could see what was going on around me, but I wasn't in control of any of it. I was forced to watch as my body acted on its own. Like an animal. Running down... chasing people until they gave up. I remember the looks on their faces. Oh god. Oh fuck. The horror, the absolute horror they had when I tackled them to the ground."
His voice was full of anguish. I was making him relieve the most gruesome memories. I could only sympathize.
Edgar, still sitting, curled himself into a ball, wrapping his arms around his legs like a child would.
"They would beg. My god, they would beg and plead and scream. Some would just cry in pain, but the one's that cried out for their mom or their dad- god what did I do?"
"You-" I felt so bad for him. "You weren't in control. That wasn't you."
"Does it matter? It doesn't change the fact that I remember my teeth sinking into these people. I remember clawing out their innards, ripping their body to shreds. I remember... feasting on them." Slowly, Edgar made to rise.
"Hold on a second." I said.
It ignored me. "That's right, I ate them. I ate all of them." The look he had just a moment ago, the one chalk full of pain, slowly started to dissipate. "They would scream and I would eat. And... and... I started to *like* it. I *needed* to eat."
I could see Edgar's humanity start to slip away once more. The creature within was slowly clawing it's way back. Edgar was losing control.
"Hey! Hey, hold on, Edgar. That's you right? Come on! Don't lose yourself."
"*No,*" It said with a growl as it's began to stand up. "*No, Edgar's gone. Edgar's*-"
*Fuck*, my heart raced, adrenaline coursing through me again. Survival instincts demanded the time for talk was over.
"Edgar!" I shouted in one final desperate plea. "Edgar think about your family! What about your kids, god damnit!"
"My... my kids?" It looked so lost. "My kids. Terry, Lana." The man once known as Edgar grappled for control. "They're waiting for me. They're so hungry." It quivered, it's body trembling uncontrollably. "They're scared. They need their dad. They need me." It wrapped it's clawed and bony hands around it's head. "I need to..."
I watched in horror as the light behind Edgar's eyes went out once more. In that brief moment, it had regained it's humanity. But as cruel fate would have it, as if the universe was playing a sick joke, it was taken away once more.
"*I. Need. To. Eat.*" | I was hiding in a dug-out in the middle of the woods, trying to avoid the infected. But they found me. There were dozens of them, sprinting towards me at-least 10 MPH.
I was terrified. But then my best friend, Kimberly, landed a hit on a zombie with an arrow. I quickly grabbed a bat and landed a blow on a zombie, it collapsed, crying out in pain. He looked shocked and confused. The zombie, which had looked so human before, was suddenly brought back to its senses by the pain.
But this was only temporary; soon it was overcome by the rage that had made him attack in the first place. He got back up on his feet, and sprinted towards me again. I was frozen.
Kimberly shot another arrow at the zombie, piercing his shoulder. The zombie cried out in pain again, but kept sprinting towards me. He was about to make contact. But then, out of nowhere, my brother, Martin, hit the zombie in the head with a katana, slitting his throat. The zombie collapsed again, dead.
Kimberly and Martin helped me up and we started sprinting away. We were lucky not to have been bitten, but we were still in a bad situation.
“The military is-” I started.
“We know.” Martin said, cutting me off. “They’re going to evac the uninfected, right?” He asked me.
“Yeah.” I replied. “We have to-”
“Go to the Evac Station.” Martin finished for me. I was about to argue with him, but then I noticed something. Before, I had thought nothing of it. But I could hear strange noises coming from the east; like moaning, animal-like sounds. I turned around to look at the source, and saw a horde of what appeared to be infected people.
“We have to get to the Evac station quickly.” I said. “That horde is coming this way.”
“Okay.” Martin said. “Let’s get going then.”
We started running east, towards the Evac station. On the way there, we ran into a group of other survivors, who had managed to escape.
“Are you guys going to the Evac station?” I asked them.
“Yeah.” One of the guys replied. “But, just as a warning, there’s a horde heading this way, so we have to run.”
“Okay, thanks.” I said, and we continued running.
A while later, we arrived at the Evac station. There were a lot of people here, and there were a lot of military men. They were boarding up the area, and there were large tanks of gas nearby.
“The Evac station is just over here.” I said to Martin and Kimberly. We walked for about 2 minutes to get to the Evac station.
“Wait here.” I told Martin and Kimberly. They sat on one of the stumps, so I walked towards the Evac station.
“Hello?” I said at the entrance. “Anybody there?” I heard a voice in the distance.
“There’s somebody here!” A man said. He sounded like he was in the woods.
“Okay, thanks.” I heard a much closer voice say. I figured it was the closer voice that had first replied to me.
“Thanks.” I said. I walked back to Kimberly and Martin. “They’re here; waiting for you.” I told them.
“Okay.” Martin replied. “We’ll see you later then.”
“Sure.” I said. I patted Martin on the shoulder and he headed for the Evac station with Kimberly.
I waited for about an hour. Then, I saw a military man running from the direction of the Evac station, then turning around and running back.
“Hey!” He called out to me. “You there!” I looked at him, then at the Evac station.
He ran over to me. “What’s going on?” I asked him.
“We’re running out of time.” He said. “We’re going to blow up the Evac station.”
“What?” I asked. “You can’t do that! There’s survivors in there!”
“This isn’t a democracy!” The man said. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“No!” I replied. “You’re not going to blow up the Evac station!”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The man repeated. “Or I’ll have to hurt you.”
“I’m staying.” I told him. | 2022-01-15T10:44:16 | 2022-01-15T08:38:28 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] A police officer adopts a child found at the site of a mass murder. As the child begins to age, the officer realizes that the child may have been the killer. | "Hey, Frank! Come over here real quick! Help move this shelf!"
Officer Lincoln called for me from the kitchen building, but I couldn't move. I desperately wanted to -the bodies smelled even worse in this room- but there was so much going on around me that I just couldn't move. So I stood there, looking like an idiot just gaping at everything. I really should've put in for a sick day, I was not ready for this shit.
The Reapers had been on our radar for a long time. Originally, everyone just thought they were a run-of-the-mill drug selling organization, but that was hardly the surface. Months went by, hours poured into sneaking around sketchy barns and warehouses. Seemed like each week we got deeper into a steaming pile of shit. The Reapers turned out to be into much more than just drugs. They sold weapons, made bombs, they even were involved in the human-trafficking business. They were terrible people. But we just could not seem to get a crack at busting these guys. As it turns out, they were even worse than we thought- they were a fanatical, death-oriented cult.
Jimmy was the one who found the bodies first. Their biggest warehouse had been really quiet for a week, so he decided to take a peek around. Fuckin' Jimmy. Everybody was dead. The thugs with the guns, the mothers in the corner cooking, the suits counting cash, even the kidnapped girls. Bodies piled up in every room. No visible wounds, just death.
I finally made it over to Lincoln in the kitchen. One of the cooking mothers had crashed into a huge shelf and knocked it over, blocking the pantry. A group of us managed to move it a few feet and crack the door open. The odor hit me first, human piss and shit just steaming through the doorway.
We found a few other kids around the complex, but Harold was the only living person to walk out of there. Poor kid had been trapped in a cramped pantry for a week. Well, I guess he was lucky- there are much worse places to be trapped when everyone around you mysteriously dies. Plus, he somehow managed to survive.
...
"Hey Harold! How ya doing?!" I called out as I entered his bedroom. There were 7 other kids in this room, but they were all pretty small, so it wasn't too bad.
"Officer Tony!!!" Harold hopped off his bunk and ran to give me a hug, "Look! I made you a drawing! Hey! Where's my chocolate bar?"
I handed him a Hershey's, as usual, and he handed me a picture. A really, really messed up picture. It was a cute living room, the type you see in movies, but with bodies and blood all over the floor. Over by the door was a dark, ghost-like figure.
"See," he pointed at the ghost, while licking the remaining chocolate off his fingers, "That's Grim. He had a busy time at work that day!"
"Harold, that's really--"
"It's not Harold any more! I hate that name! It reminds me of that place and that pantry. Everyone here calls me Hades now."
I looked at the kid, and for a second time I knew I had to get him out of here.
...
I rushed into through the hospital doors about 10 minutes after I got the call.
"Are you Hades dad? Sir, there is no need to worry. Your son is perfectly fine. Some scratches, a sprained wrist, but overall he managed to get out of that mess unscathed. It's nothing short of a miracle!"
I fell to the floor and cried. Hades had a strongly magnetic personality. He was turning into a charming, attractive, fine young man. Yet for some reason always found the worst friends. When he was younger, it was the school bullies. Hades never bullied anyone, everyone loved him, but he chose to hang around with the wrong crowd. Since going to high school, however, it got much worse. He started to hang around with the drug dealers and dropouts. He still managed to get good grades, so I couldn't be too upset at him, but I worried.
The doctors went on to tell me that he was in a major car accident with four other boys. I started to scowl. I warned him about hanging out with those kids, they were dangerous people and terrible influences. But the scowl disappeared when the doctor said that he was the only one to survive the deadly 4 car pile up. My eyes went wide, and I rushed into the room and gave him a hug. We walked out of that hospital as quickly as we could. Hades had been around death too much already, I had to get him home and safe.
...
"Leave me alone already, dad! You're embarrassing me!" Hades's friends snickered in the background. There were about 10 of them, all hanging around his apartment. He was always quick to make friends, but once again his friends seemed to be the kind of people I didn't want him around. I grabbed his harm and pulled him outside.
"Hades, with all these shootings going on around the campus I just wanted to come and make sure that your place is safe. I mean, it was one of the safest colleges in the state, but there have been so many deaths here lately... By the way, who were those people back there? Hades, I don't think I need to remind you..."
"Just back off already! I am a grown-ass man! And I ditched Hades, it sounded like some fucked up middle school pot-head name. I go by Osiris now."
I rolled my eyes.
"Oh get the hell out of here dad! I'm sick of you always judging me! Judging my name, my friends, my life! It's MY life, and I'm going to live it how I want! And right now I want YOU out of it!"
...
Work was long today, but I finally finished. Got home, opened a beer, and crashed on the couch. Flipped on the T.V.
"--Officers are still investigating the scene, but it seems that college cult leader 'Osiris' is the only one to have survived. However, as he is yet to be found, police must have him at the top of the suspect list," my beer crashed against the floor, "The college has had a large increase in deaths these last few years, but nothing like this. The mass murder of a cult comprised of all sorts of individuals- from students and athletes to drug dealers and gangsters. All of them seem to have suffered extremely violent deaths.... We are getting new footage, but it is reported to be graphic. We recommend that anyone who feels uncomfortable with disturbing images should turn away."
My eyes went wide, my jaw dropped, and my heart sank.
On the apartment wall, a message was written in blood, "MORE SOULS FOR THE REAPER"
*^More ^of ^my ^writing ^at ^/r/TheRoyalLibrary ^Thanks ^for ^reading!* | Let me set the scene: The father's got his throat slit in the master bedroom; he's lying dead and naked in a pool of shit, piss and blood on the bed. The Mom's in the kitchen: the very point of a blade sticking out the back of her neck, the handle protruding between her teeth. Her hand's are burnt black, like chicken left on the barbecue too long, they look like they were taped, for a while, to the electric hob. The 12 year old daughter is in her bed, face blue and tongue purple, a purple laceration around her entire neck. And Lacey? Six year old Lacey? She's in the pantry, bathroom, living room, hallway, and shed simultaneously. The neighbours insisted there was a dog, but it could never have gotten out: black bones in the firepit. Poor thing was trapped and burnt to death.
And hiding in the deep-freeze, in the first throes of hypothermia and tears frozen to her cheeks, seven year old Alisha.
*
P.C Eleanor Dunthorp finds her first. The poor girl screams and fights, terrified and feral screaming, screaming "*they'll come back, they'll come back* **they'll come back.**
It takes Dunthorp twenty minutes to calm the child down enough to talk, by which time she's unplugged the deep-freeze, so at least the child can't freeze any further than she already has. Eleanor gives the girl her jacket, and carries her on her hip to the car. She puts the heating on full and drives the girl to the hospital for immediate treatment. Dunthorp has to return to the scene, has to back up her partner and the forensics team, and shunt away the press. A murder in suburban England - how Fred and Rose West. The press love it.
The girl, Alisha, has no surviving family members, and whenever anyone talks to her they're aware that the child is now committed to a lifetime of psychiatry that will end inevitably in a mental breakdown that will either implode, and harm her, or explode, and harm others. Whenever they look into her eyes, kneel down to make her feel safer, they see a future solidified in blue eyes and baby cheeks. Pills, a rotating plethora of doctor's for this and for that. Foster homes and adoptive parents who maybe will or will not put up with her psychosis, who will try and pray the devil away or accept that when the girl lashes out 'shit, what can you expect?'
She's put on 24-hour watch but at the end of each shift whoever watches her reports she shows no sign of dismay. She sleeps almost perfectly soundly, never cries, never looks lost, only bored. Her preliminary psychiatrists say apathy is one way the brain deals with having seen too much. She's forced the memories down a dark hole she might never be able to access - she's blocked everything out and all for the better. When the doctor's give the tentative OK the police ask her for a written statement, which she writes in looping and shaking letters, and peppers with tears. The police want a verbal statement, need to ask questions, to seek details, but the girl refuses. Slams her foot down and says she wants to talk to the police-woman who found her. Eleanor Dunthorp.
The moment Eleanor steps into the room with the girl - a room as fake as it is trying too hard - pastel pink wallpaper, peeling; ripped teddy-bears and limbless Barbie dolls; half filled in colouring books and snapped crayons; things meant to summon to mind the thoughts of a normal home, but the attempt is too obvious, the falseness of the scene is set by the clinical touches: the *motel-art* picture of a lake and pier; the lack of a window - removing any closeness to the outside world, not that the girls seems much bothered by that; the steel bed-frame and wooden door with a porthole for a window. Eleanor sees all these things, takes them all in with the brown-haired, six years-old girl who stares up innocently at her, like an inquisitive fawn wondering if the food is safe or is a trap. Eleanor sees the life to which Alisha has been committed, the life that she doesn't have the voice to complain about. She's doomed to become a statistic.
Eleanor completes the interview. Weeks later is it announced nothing more can be done, months later the case is closed: no suspect is ever announced. Only Alisha's vague screams: *they, they, they.* The girl is placed into foster care. At the risk of her career Eleanor negotiates the hurdles and barriers the state have put in place and adopts the girl.
Two years pass. Alisha is quiet and reserved, which is to be expected. Eleanor marries: Dunthorp becomes Blithe. Eleanor's husband knows who Alisha is and where she came from, what she witnessed. He is nice to the girl, pleasant and warm and friendly. He plays dolls with her, dress-up, when he sees Alisha breaking into Eleanor's make-up he says nothing to Eleanor, tells Alisha now they're *co-conspirators.* The girl says nothing, is cold and distant. She snaps at him and cries when he is near for no reason, and is often a driving wedge between Eleanor and her new husband. He takes it in his stride: he knows, after all. She's not a normal kid.
*****
Hey guys, hit that pesky word limit! Rest posted below! | 2016-02-09T16:33:26 | 2016-02-09T15:43:50 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] "I have an army," says the alien warlord, a smug smile on his face. You stare at him confidently and say, "I have a packet of chips." | I felt the packet through the thick gloves of my space-suit, the thin atmosphere onboard the alien ship had made it bulge, and I prayed quietly to myself that the package would hold until the time was right.
"A *Packet of Crisps"?* said the alien, jokingly, "*and what exactly is it that you think you can do with a packet of crisps?"*
"Funny thing, a packet of crisps", I retorted, grinning, "you see, us humans always complain about these things, you see in spite of their name, they are not actually full of crisps, they are mostly full of air, except for pringles, those things are awesome but I digress"
The Alien rolled his three eyes and gestured to his henchmen to raise their weapons, "*what are pringles ? some kind of weapon",* I heard one henchman say
"but you see, behind this humble packaging is an exceptional piece of technology that tips the strategic balance, and I am willing to give it to you", I added, catching the attention of the wavering warlord, who gestured again to his soldiers to lower their weapons.
I smiled politely at him, "you see, on earth our food is made of Carbon and nitrogen, and long story short, this stuff being exposed to our planets air for too long... well lets just say it doesn't work out all that well, which brings us back to the good old packet of crisps"
His patience was clearly waning
"You lot like low atmospheres, smart move, you don't need crisp packets and your... "
I started at the strange grey blocks on the trays on the table
"... your sustenance, for lack of a better word, doesn't require such wasteful practices as packaging. There is no mostly-empty scam packaging in your glorious empire! Only pringles-style utilitarian brilliance!! Us humans are so wasteful, I mean, I would wager that there is almost as much atmosphere in this crisp packet as there is .... "
The Warlord pulled out his rifle and fired a few rounds near my feet
"*GET TO THE FUCKING POINT"*
I smiled again "as there is on your entire ship".
The warlords face immediately contorted into one of disdain, "*but you know full well we can breathe your air, so long as it is not too dense, it is uncomfortable, but we have suits, and once we have drained off enough of your atmosphere, earth will be colonised and stripped of its resources"*
\*"\*That is true", I replied, " and just like us, you can breathe air even if some elements of it, like... oh I don't know... nitrogen, are toxic to you, isn't that right?"
He again rolled his eyes, "*but this changes nothing, human"*
"ahh but you see, that is the brilliance of the humble packet of crisps, to keep our potatoes nice and crispy, we don't fill the bags with air"
the distain on the warlords face dissapeared, replaced by primal fear,
"we fill them with nitrogen" | I look out over the horde assembled on the field near my house. At a quick glance, there must have been hundreds of them, arrayed in armor and weapons. They were arranged in a precise formation.
At their head was their leader. I didn't know the species well enough to know if they were male, female, or even if they had a gender. I decided to go with male, as the swaggering walk was the sort I'd only ever seen from some simper prince who grew up with everyone attending to him. He/They were dressed in a gaudy approximation of the armor the rest were wearing.
The leader look at him with the sneer, "Surrender your land to us, or we will slay you and take it by force!" I smiled at him, showing how little I cared for his demanded. "I don't think that's going to happen. You should march your little goon squad elsewhere if you have any sense."
I could see the anger suffuse his body. It took him a minute to find words around the rage. "I have an army your simple minded buffoon!" I smiled, looked him in the eye, and said "Yes, and I have a bag of chips in my pantry!"
I could see confusion now warring with the anger fighting for control in his mind. "Have you lost your senses, you will be slain! What do you mean?" Ah, so the anger and the confusion called a cease fire! At least the creature might have a grain of sense in its brain.
I crouched down, close to the ground and look over his two inch tall form, and gave my best shark-like grin. "I thought we were talking about things that looked bit sized and tasty!" | 2021-09-16T13:07:41 | 2021-09-16T11:16:02 | 180 | 62 |
[WP]You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago, today he gives it back and says, "I need a favor". | "And what could you *possibly* require from me?" Vernon asked. After selling his soul years before, he now stood at a somewhat remarkable six-foot-two, dressed himself rather well, and had money enough to retire at forty. Such was the life of one fated for eternal hellfire. "Getting my soul back would be nice, but- what of our deal?"
"Look, Vern. I just really need you to do something for me," said the Devil- although she was more commonly known as Kalysta. Throughout the centuries, there had been many rulers of Hell, and she was the most recent one. "It'll only take a few days. Our deal will still be intact, 'kay? Just one simple thing, and you can get back to your life."
"Does it involve drugs?" Vernon asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It does not," replied Kalysta, shaking her head.
"A short spree of ultraviolence?" Vernon questioned, craning his head a bit closer.
"Fuck no," responded Kalysta, crossing her arms.
"Banishing escaped hellspawn?" Vernon inquired, crossing his own arms in turn.
"No, but it's related to that," Kalysta returned. She went into her pocket, producing a wallet, which she spread open and pointed toward Vernon. Within was an identification card, in plain view, as well as...
A picture of a small, and rather cute, demon girl. She wore a dress, and bore significant resemblance to Kalysta.
"You want me to banish a child!?" Vernon exclaimed. "There's no way in-"
"Like I said, it's only tangentially related! Let me speak, you soulless cur!" Kalysta shouted back at him. "This is my daughter. She's got a piano recital tonight, but I've got some shit-eating hellspawn to track down."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"I want you to go to her recital. Sit in my spot, clap when she's done, take her home, and put her to bed."
Vernon stared for a long while at the demoness. Finally, he let out a sigh. "And you'll return my soul, if I do so?"
"I said that's what I'd do, right?" Kalysta asked, putting her wallet away. "Are you gonna do it, or do I need to find some other, more desperate sap to bargain with? Mind, I'm asking *you*, because you seem to be among the most sane of the guys who've sold their soul off recently. Lots of those guys are weak in the head, but you've kept it together." She stared at him, for a short few seconds. "You don't seem stupid enough to cross me by messing with my daughter, is what I mean."
Vernon gently sighed, putting a hand to his face. "Very well. I'll do it. Having my soul back would certainly be nice."
---
I might finish this later, if there's demand for it, but as it is it seems fine.
Extremely untimely edit: check out [my sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/Probroscis/) for more various written stuff. If I end up continuing this, it'll be there. | All this time, I was worried about having to go to Hell unwillingly. But now, I will ride into hell at Satan's side on our beastly demonic hounds, and it will be glorious.
I can't believe he needed my help. Satan willingly bought my soul nine years ago and in that nine years I've been able to amass a fortune, become wildly successful, and lead the free world at my will and without interruption. For him to come to me and ask for *my* help, he must truly be desperate.
He said it was something that he couldn't do, or wouldn't. When it comes down to it does it really matter? Satan, the almighty devil and Lucifer himself needs my help. Sorry to keep mentioning it, I just can't believe it. I'm just a human. Granted, the most powerful mortal in the world, but still, it's unfathomable that Satan needs a favor from me.
We had a long conversation about how we go about committing such an act and it was decided that the best way was for him to have no part. I would act alone. Although I would most likely and undoubtedly be compared to The Devil, to regain my soul I will do anything that is needed.
Mass Genocide. That's it. That's all he wanted. Easier than I thought it would be. I already kind of had some sort of plans along these lines, but nothing to this extent. I wanted thousands, but Satan had different plans, he wanted Millions. The groups were different, I can't stand the English, and Satan, for whatever reason, is absolutely repulsed the the Jews.
So, here I am in my bunker. I can hear the Americans coming. It won't be too long before they find me, but they will not take me alive.
- A.Hitler | 2016-06-27T06:58:27 | 2016-06-27T06:44:28 | 1,053 | 378 |
[WP] You learn that the universe is a computer simulation designed to answer a single question, and that once the question is answered, the simulation will be terminated. | Xenoth could not die. It had already existed for two million years. The problem Xenoth faced was one of existentialism. Xenoth had seen and experienced everything that it wanted, possibly everything that had and could exist. Species had come and gone. Xenoth's own species had long since self terminated.
Only Xenoth remained, certain that existence must have a purpose.
But the question of what that purpose was burned in its mind. It searched for the answer. *Why?*
For Xenoth, everything had been done and everything had been seen. Why exist? Why wait until entropy obliterates all universal energy, and with it Xenoth. Why wait a trillion universal years to unexist? Xenoth's species had not waited.
That is why the simulation was created. To find out what the point was. A perfect representation of Xenoth's own universe but running at an incredibly high rate. A replica and a prediction.
Xenoth watched as species came and went. Suns were born, only to die. Galaxies were swallowed whole by supermassive black holes. And in the end... *nothing.* There were no answers.
Xenoth rewound and slowed down the simulation to watch an interesting little species, self named humanity. They would have a fleeting existence, colonising their local solar systems before civil wars consumed them.
He watched as they lived their short lives. As they loved and enjoyed and experienced. Things Xenoth had not done or felt in a million years. Their life span gave them purpose and reason, choices that mattered. *Death* gave all of that to them.
Xenoth programmed the simulation to switch off in 80 earth years. Xenoth then uploaded it's mind into a body within the simulation. 80 years of existence remained before its mind was turned off and before the simulation ended. A set life span.
Peace at last filled Xenoth's mind as it decided how to spend its remaining time.
------
More prompt responses on /r/nickofnight
| We looked at the screen with our test results. We could hardly believe it, yet at the same time, it was so elegant, so...obvious. There was simply no way it wasn't true.
"What question though?" I wondered aloud.
"The one you just asked." Jim suggested. He was the kind of person who would not take anything seriously - a defense mechanism for his brilliant, severely depressed mind.
I rolled my eyes.
"That'd mean by answering, you just killed the universe."
"I know." | 2016-05-07T12:04:25 | 2016-05-07T11:48:11 | 57 | 10 |
[WP] You've died. You expected to be judged in the Afterlife, but all you see now is God and Satan disappointingly sigh at you and simultaneously scold: "We look away for five months and you died AGAIN?!" | I'm dead. I don't remember dying, but the place I'm in now has an air of finality to it. And dark green linoleum tiles on the floor. Just as I'm starting to accept my own demise, God and Satan stride in through a set of double doors at the far end of the nondescript room.
I'm no good at reading faces, but theirs are speaking to me loud and clear. It's the "how did you manage this fuckup" look that my wife used to give me. It's one thing coming from your significant other and a whole other when two major deities -- neither of whom I believe in -- are doing it.
They look at each other for a moment and then both say, at the same time, "We look away for five months, and here you are, AGAIN." Satan adds, "Dead, again."
"Um... Sorry?" Seems like a safe answer right then.
"How hard could it be? You don't have an impossible task on your shoulders. No geas. No curse. Nothing. All you need to do is not die until it's your time. Is that too much to ask?" The king of Hell sounds almost desperate. "You walked in front of a bus, for Hell's sake!"
"I...um..." I get a flash of memory. Some guy is chatting at me. He’s shoving something into my face, asking about a deal. And a glimpse of brightly colored wings. "I saw a butterfly."
Satan turns to God and smacks his forehead. "She saw a butterfly."
"Look, child," says the ruler of the heavenly host. "It's important to me -- to us -- that you survive. You'll die, like everyone else, in your own time."
"Why?" The word is out of my mouth before I can think about it too hard.
"It doesn't matter," Satan says.
God contradicts, "Your life is precious to us."
My gaze lingers between the two of them. There's a glaring contest going on and I realize I don't want to know what those two are on about. In fact, I'm beginning to suspect that this is not about me at all. But there was the butterfly.
"Sorry?" I try again.
"Why don't we send you back," God says with a nod. "And maybe try a little harder to stay alive, all right? Remember, keep your wits about you. There's absolutely no reason for you to get hit by a bus."
"OK."
Satan growls. "You trust her?"
God shrugs and grumbles something under his breath. Louder he says, "You're the one who predicted that she would bring the world to its knees if she died early."
"I did,” Satan agrees, “But now..."
For a moment, God is silent. Then, he says to Satan, "Well, you were right." He turns to me. "Now back you go, Madam President. I believe the reporter standing over your body is about to have a heart attack himself."
"Um..."
The world goes dark. Goodbye, green linoleum.
Back in the waiting room of the dispossessed, the two deities exchange currency and mutter obscenities. | I twitch one of my blue cat ears, looking annoyed.
“Hey, it’s not my fault that Vincent is so strong!!!” I say, scratching at my butterfly-shaped Dark Emperor mark. God shakes his head and Satan rolls his eyes.
“We let you stay on Earth as a ghost last time, Lillian. Now, we can’t do it again.” Satan grumbled. I start getting angry, and turn into my Dark Empress form, Katsuki.
“Okay, that’s it! First, my OWN FATHER drowns me because I refused one of his forever potions, then I endure the pain of coming back to life, only to find out I’m the reincarnation of an ancient legend that most of humanity thought was evil, I have to fight a **MANIAC** who turns people into animatronics, and almost lose my best friend Nash to him!!” I stop my rant as Satan slaps me, growling,
“We know. We’ve seen. You don’t need to take it out on us.” I start pounding the ground with my fists, letting out my frustrations. I stopped as God said,
“What are you doing here? You’re not dead. How did you get here?” And look up to see Nash, standing next to a human version of his Dark Emperor Dusk. Nash moves a lock of dark blue hair out of his face, saying,
“We’re here for Lillian and Katsuki.” I felt a small twinge of pain, and I was Lillian once again. I looked to my left and saw Katsuki, looking at me in surprise. God sighed,
“She wasn’t supposed to die this time in the first place, and we’re not dealing with the paperwork again. Just go.” I smile as Nash motions for me to follow him, and practically skip out of the room. | 2019-07-17T15:13:13 | 2019-07-17T13:06:02 | 263 | 10 |
[WP] Your ship's new prototype energy cannon just vaporized an alien warship, shattered a moon, and punched a hole through a planet. "Sir, message from thier flagship: What the !@#$ing %/&$ was that?!". | The comms blinked amid the hiss of venting oxygen and crackling, exposed wire. The green light flashed insistently for my attention, out of sync with the red alert lights pulsing throughout the ship's bridge. My crew was silent, tension written across their faces, as we all looked upon the trail of destruction displayed on the forward viewscreen.
The destruction we'd created.
*One shot*, I thought to myself, awed, as I studied the debris field. The remains of a fleet floated before us. Sharp green metal sparking and colliding for kliqs and kliqs. But those casualties were just the fallout. Amidst the carnage, was a void. A huge tunnel of empty space stretched through the horror. Atoms now, where once there were ships. The trail continued, past where a moon once orbited--the moon reduced to nothing but a smattering of spinning rocks. From there, it carved a hole straight through the raging storm of a roiling gas giant.
Breaking from the reverie, I turned my head and nodded slowly to Mera, my communications officer. She nodded slowly in kind, and brought her attention back toward her station. A moment later and we heard the Veski commander's voice crackling over the bridge audio feed. "Human rebellion ship, designation Bluejay..." I could make out the uncharacteristic concern and fear in the bastard's voice, even through the old translator tech. "I repeat, Bluejay. This is Veski Commander Keine, of the Most Superior Uron... *requesting* audience." Now, *there* was the contempt I'd come to expect.
I spoke, trusting Mera to route the audio appropriately: "Hello, again, Keine. Miss me? I imagine you're ready to listen now?"
There was a long pause. "Renalt... What in the seven moons did you just fire at my fleet." It was a demand more than a question.
"Six moons, now." I said quickly, earning a shake of the head and a small smile from Alexi, my pilot. "But to answer your question: *that* was a warning shot."
Another pause, as Keine digested what I meant by warning shot.
"You are bluffing," was the eventual reply.
"I'm not," I lied. "We've equipped these puppies on every flight-capable scrap pile this side of the 'belt," another lie. "So we highly *request* y'all take your slaver asses on home to wherever the scrag your species came from." It was hard to keep the venom out of my words. Generations of oppression will do that to a man.
Keine's response was immediate, "We are prepared to accept your immediate and complete surrender."
"Scrag that."
I motioned to Mera to cut the comms before turning to my security officer: "Feri," I say, "vaporize this asshole."
--------------
Author's note: don't normally write on popular posts since peeps only ever read the top one or two responses, but this prompt seemed fun. Pretty happy with how it turned out, and I hope at least one other person (who isn't my spouse!) gets to enjoy it. If that's you: ❤️ Thanks for reading! | "An anti-matter reactor cannon" you say calmly, arms folded behind your back, a calm, stern expression on your face
"That is insanity! Those were outlawed over 400 Cycles ago because of just this! Why do you have such a thing let alone use it?! It could have created an explosion that would have killed all of us, including you! State your identities at once!" The alien admiral bellows, what can only be assumed is sweat beading on his brow. You cannot tell whether it is out of panic, rage, or madness at what he just witnessed.
"We're Humans of Earth." You say, keeping your cool tone.
&#x200B;
"Well that explains the insanity." The admiral said, a level of understanding passing over his face. "Crazy bastards..." he finishes, trailing off as the feed is cut. Through the command bridge windows, the unknown alien armada sipz off to light speed, leaving nothing but the void in their wake.
\-----------------
&#x200B;
On the bridge of the alien ship, an ensign turns to the admiral after their jump to warp.
"Sir, why do we run? We outnumber them 10 to 1? They are primitives in comparison to us technologically!" he uttered, unable to hold in his emotions.
The admiral stroked his chin, then turned to the Ensign, giving a chuckle and a wise smile before shaking his head and replying
"Ensign, there's a reason no one makes contact with the humans. They are, as they would call themselves in their 'English' Language... F$%\*ing Insane. Now get us the hell away from that solar system. Actually... make that the entire sector. You never know what those crazy bastards might do." | 2021-08-03T11:32:55 | 2021-08-03T10:17:43 | 36 | 27 |
[WP] A mathematician on the brink of insanity has spent years locked in his apartment, attempting to find a formula that proves God exists. As he nears to a breakthrough, God shows up to explain why the proof shouldn't be made public. | "I know, I know. Just a few more minutes..." Leopold muttered to himself. His stomach was growling hungrily, but he didn't have time for food. The numbers were dancing for him, he was in ecstasy.
"It all makes sense... It's all logic, it's all maths." He muttered. Scribbling with his pencil on the floor. He had run out of paper hours ago, but he couldn't stop. He had it all in his head, and he had to write it down before he lost it.
In his occupied and distracted frame of mind he didn't notice the man sitting in the corner of the room.
"I've got it... I've got it!" Leopold grinned widely. He was almost there.
The man in the corner cleared his throat, and Leopold stopped and looked towards the corner, blinking surprised. The man was an unremarkable one in appearance, tall and lean built with short cropped hair, and he looked quite young. Still, there was something about him, an air of authority that suggested something... more.
Leopold turned back to the floor and continued writing letters and numbers down. He was so close.
"Excuse me?" The man said. His voice was deep and strong, filling the room with a sweet and comforting presence.
"Yes, yes. I'm almost done." Leopold said not looking up.
"You need to stop now." The man ordered. Leopold hesitated for a moment before he continued.
"No. I need to finish this. This is revolutionary. This proves God exists." Leopold said lightly, as if he was talking of the weather. It was long since he had spoken to someone else.
"I know. I am God. And you need to let this be. Mankind will not profit from this. Let faith be. They are not ready for this." God said firmly and Leopold laughed. God, or rather the manifestation of God, cocked his head sideways in an amused sense of surprise. In his eternity of existence, surprise was a rarity. And yet somehow, a flaw in his original design had made them so much more than what he had expected. Such potential and such unexpectedness.
"You don't tell me what to do. You don't exist!" Leopold insisted.
"You just proved my existence. Denying me would be... counteractive." God said, a slight smile on his lips.
"God exist. But you are not God. I am mad, and I know it. And you, god Sir, is nothing more than a hallucination trying to sabotage my life and achievements. In a sense, you are me being self-destructive and self-sabotaging." Leopold countered with a broad smile.
God looked at Leopold smiling. He had not expected this problem. Contrary to popular beliefs God could not personally and directly interfere with the workings of the Universe. He was more of an observer and occasionally a conversationalist. All he could do was speak with and try to convince him to do the right thing.
"I assure you, I *am* God. And you cannot publish this proof." God insisted, this time firmer, amplifying his presence in the room. Leopold hesitated, putting his hand to his chest.
"I am mad, and I will not fall for this deception of yours! If God didn't want this proof published he'd tell me himself! Not send some delusion!" Leopold insisted and slammed his pen onto the floor. Finishing the proof. "Hah!" He exclaimed triumphantly.
"I am God, and I am telling you not to publish it!" God insisted, but Leopold ignored him and started scurrying around the room.
God sighed and leaned on his arm. So many madmen had delusions of speaking with God, and the one man who did refused to believe it was real. It was quite a situation. | God watched one man with intense interest. This unassuming nearsighted older gentleman in his office at Baylor University was right now his number one priority. This man had once been a theorhetical physicist, but after a brush with death, had changed careers and gone back to college and earned a PhD in religious studies. He'd taken the position at this small Baptist university in Texas to teach, and to work on his theory. He knew in his heart this theory was true, he'd FELT God's involvement in saving his life, and with his collective knowledge, he was going to prove it to the world. He'd locked himself in his office for the last several weeks, and God looked on with great interest, realizing that if the professor changed one single sign, he'd have what he sought. "I need you to stop."
The professor looked around, "Who said that?" "You know who I am." answered the voice. "I need you to stop." "But this is my life's work!" said the man, "The world will finally believe!" "That's the problem." The Voice answered. "Nearly all would believe." I don't have that kind of room up here."
"How can you not have enough room in heaven?" The professor asked. "I'll show you." Answered the voice. At that moment, another whiteboard appeared, and a marker started writing on it. Numbers, letters, and symbols filled the board. When it was over, the professor saw the problem. "Souls have mass!" He exclaimed, "of course, souls have mass!!!" "So you see the problem." said the voice. "Yes, but how is there enough room in Hell?" "Why do you think it's so hot there? We cram them in and the pressure creates heat. Hell never gets full, the pressure and temperature just go up." "Allright, can I at least know where my formula is wrong? It almost works, but I must have made a mistake somewhere." A marker from the second whiteboard moves over to the first and changes one minus sign to a plus. The professor looks it over, realizes it's correct, and weeps. "It's okay my son, I know the burden of not being able to share this will weigh you down. Come home." The first board erased itself, the second board disappeared, and the professor drifted off to sleep, his soul leaving his body and heading to heaven. | 2016-01-24T07:53:56 | 2016-01-24T07:36:30 | 58 | 28 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much. | The doctor told mother it would develop into something as I aged. It was a rare trait but I wouldn’t have this strange amorphous black smudge on my thigh forever. My mother took peace from the doctor’s words, she was a dove and so she was able to find the peace in all things.
My father roared at the neighbourhood children who mocked me. He told me that I needed to learn to stand up for myself. Mother told me not to play show and tell with my tattoo. I was seven.
When I was 13 I noticed it had changed. Not much, but it seemed longer and thinner, a head and legs seemed to develop. I found my teeth had sharpened and grown strong as well. When I showed father he smiled - he believed it was becoming a bear like his. He took me out for ice cream that day, we put honey and blueberries on it - his long tongue and sharp teeth made quick work of the dessert. I wondered if my tongue would grow long like his.
I stopped showing my dad, I let him think it was a bear. By 17 my friends were all having sex and I was afraid to take off my pants in gym class. Four legs sprouted from the tattoo, a toothy grin on a demonic monster showed on my thigh. It was huge, bigger than anyone else’s I’d ever seen. But I hadn’t seen everyone’s, so maybe like the doctor said it was rare.
At 24 I’d graduated college, I worked as a marine welder, my hands rough, my neck had gills and I needn’t worry about the protective gear most people wore. I was the best in my field but I was nowhere closer to peace. My father saw the gills and tattoo as a curse, he cut me off and refused to speak with me. Convinced my mother had cheated on him and he wasn’t my father he left her. She called me once a week, only talking briefly on the phone.
At 32 I finished the job I was working on, broke the surface of the water and couldn’t breathe. Only in the murky depths of the ocean could I live. I was single and my mother had passed, my father forgotten. I swam for some time, ate fish and my body took the water it needed from the ocean. Boredom was the real danger. My clothes over time rotted away and I could no longer track my age. I had simply become a monster of the deep.
It was some time later when I heard the singing. Different from whalesong I followed it to the Mariana Trench and swam into the depths. The closer I got the clearer it became and in the darkest depths of the ocean I felt something touch me. Sharks daren’t go bear me, octopi scuttled away when I approached, even dolphins, the murderously playful creatures, left me alone.
But it was rough hands like mine, when they touched me I felt singing in my bones. I didn’t bother with sight or trying to pull this creature into the light, instead we stayed below in the depths of the ocean. Held in each other’s arms I knew what I’d see if I ever saw my love in the light. I simply see a tattoo like mine of a monster shaping us into necessary beings.
Edit: I post stories from here on my subreddit /r/ollieliotd. If you like this feel free to check it out.
Edit Part 2: With the requests for different creatures I've created [this thread](https://www.reddit.com/r/OlliEliotD/comments/7braya/necessary_creatures/) to contain the ones I've already written and the new ones. If you want me to write a specific one, put the request in there and I will get to it. Already completed is Leviathan, Chupacabra, Black Widow, Griffin, Phoenix and Wendigo. | Of Mordecai, 5:9-17
**Thus Came The Serpent From The Waves**
^9 And the Dove lay thus, upon a stranger's bed. And from her eyes did stream tears of agony. For the birth had rendered itself difficult from its conception, the child come too soon, on a night two weeks removed from its rightful date. ^10 And so the Dove lay thus, upon a cold strangers bed, in such agony the Bear did oft hide his face, turning from the sight. And the agony did last through the swarthy night, and did only pass as the child came forth. ^11 But as the child was born unto the Bear and the Dove, another agony did present itself. For upon the babe, stark, cross its back, lay etched the mark of Leviathan.
^12 And seeing the mark, the wisemen and their aides, those that did help bring forth the child, retreated in horror. Casting aside their robes and alchemies, they did flee for fear they would be taken, as all would be taken, now that Leviathan hath come forth upon the world. And as the Bear held the babe, he did let forth an anguished cry, and the Dove hid her face. ^13 And even as her face was turned, she did beg the Bear to slay the child, for to allow it to live was to bring great suffering upon Man. And so the Bear, in a spirit of righteous sacrifice, raised against the child a blade cast aside by a wiseman.
^14 And as the Bear stretched his hand to slay the child, great rivers of blood poured forth from its wounds. And as the child's blood poured forth upon the Bear, the Bear was seared, and in great agony was struck down. And then from the mouth of the child issued sreechings, and wails far removed from the world of Man, and farther removed from the world of Angels. ^15 And the Dove, upon hearing the wails, was struck down, there upon the birthing bed.
^16 And so began the Turning of the Age, the wails of Leviathan multiplying amongst the hordes of Man and Angels. And they did fall, weak hearts failing in the majesty of the sanctity of Leviathan's cries. ^17 And so it came to be, Leviathan, reigning over the dead in holy solitude, forever and ever. Amen.
*Taken from "The Holy Scriptures of the Lord"*
| 2017-11-08T05:09:42 | 2017-11-08T04:45:53 | 1,673 | 195 |
[WP] "I'd like to sell my soul". The Devil grinned; "In exchange for what? Women, money, power?". "Salvation". | 6/30/22
“I’d like to sell my soul.”
The devil grinned. “In exchange for what? Women? Money? Power?”
“Salvation…” He said.
The devil leaned back on his throne, raising his head and pressing his long nailed hands together under his sharp chin. “For whom?” He asked thoughtfully.
There was no wind, no moisture, just an oppressive heat that made the air shimmer and dried the skin, his lips were dry, cracked and beginning to bleed. Everything here seemed designed to create discomfort, but he had not yet seen any outright torture, gore or pain as he had expected.
“I know it seems counter intuitive but consider that I am coming to you and not…Him. I don’t want His help.”
“That’s a feeling I understand. Go on, tell me who you want to save and I swear it will be so as long as your soul belongs to me.” The devil suppressed a smile. People were so predictable. This man had suffered more anguished than any of His children should. He was about to ask for his wife to be saved from hell in return for his soul and then he would continue to suffer for eternity in anguish, separated from his lost love for all time. It was a perfect suffering and he already looked forward to enjoying watching it play out.
The man thought about his wife, her suffering while she was alive and the sudden sickness that had stolen her from him. How could God have allowed such a travesty to happen. Were they not willing and devoted followers? Did they not live the Word? Why had she been condemned to this place then? “Your word is binding is it not, father of lies, when souls hang in the balance? You must live by a bargain?”
The Devil responded dismissively “yes, yes of course it’s all in the contract.”
He drew himself up and spoke slowly, meeting the devil’s snakelike eyes for the first time. “Then I wish for your salvation”
The Devil stilled as the pronouncement sunk in. “That’s not…you can’t…” he looks at the contract reviewing the tiny spidery clauses closely, finding no exclusion written in. The magic began to take hold then, the man’s soul rising slowly from his body which fell to the ground like a marionette who’s strings had been cut.
Conversely the devil pulls at his collar beginning to feel such an oppressive heat and a foreign heady sensation like he’d just been slapped. He felt lighter and there was an insistent upward tugging deep within his chest. “I don’t understand? Why would you…save me?” For 6,000 years he’d ruled over hell, since the first men had begun pouring through the gates. In that time he had punished millions, enjoying their degradation and humiliation. Surely he was beyond salvation. Surely he would not be forced to join his Father and have to listen to his insufferable goodness again. “I’m going to make hell up there.”
The man smiled with almost rapturous satisfaction. He would be with his beloved wife soon. Sure their home would be hot and miserable but somehow, like always, she made any situation better. When they were together it was always “Us agains the world” and now it would be “us against hell.” But it didn’t matter. They would be together forever.
He responded then to the devil triumphantly, “I’m counting on it” | The Devil seemed confused for the briefest of moments. Then, charismatic smile back on his face, he answered: "Can you kindly repeat your wish?"
The Devil was not as John had envisioned it. He expected some sort of horrific creature, or maybe a horribly disfigured person whose evil could be seen easily, but it was not the case. The man in front of him had dark skin, well combed hair and he wore a very elegant dark-red suit. He was *very* attractive, in a way John was unable to describe or comprehend. A young woman was lying on his left shoulder, while the Devil rested on the stretched arm of a very ripped man.
"Salvation. I want salvation in exchange of my soul"
"And that's it? Nothing else?"
"Can you do it or not?"
He smiled widely and his eyes glowed with a golden aura. This happened for a few seconds in which John felt how the fabric of reality tore itself apart. The two companions of the Devil didn't seem to notice, as did none of the clients of the pub. "Done", he said.
"What? I feel the same..."
"You are the same. But thank to your *generous* wish, an small boat full of desperate migrants will not sink and, instead, will reach the coast of Spain safely. You just *saved* them. Congratulations."
"What!? That's not what I meant!"
"Next time you strike a deal with the Devil or other minor demons, you may want to specify what definition of 'salvation' you are referring to. Now, leave and live your life. Standard deal contracts always specify that I will do nothing to shorten your life expectancy."
"You can't do that! You tricked me!"
"*You don't say!"*, he said with a sardonic smile, and his companions bursted in laughter. "Security, escort mister Finlay outside of the stablishment, if you please." | 2022-06-30T10:52:14 | 2022-06-30T10:12:20 | 161 | 92 |
[WP] you realize you're the black guy in a horror movie. survive at any cost. | "I think we should split up." Said Todd, his blood spattered polo shirt still slowly seeping through the cloth. He clutched the axe with grim determinatio, after all, the killer was still out there.
"Wait," said Mike, putting up his hand. "Wait wait wait, what the fuck? 'We should split up'? Why?"
"So we can cover more ground, that way. We'll pair up in-"
"No!" Mike said, glancing around at the surviving members of the now crimson dance hall.
"We arm ourselves, split into pairs and hunt this bastard down, that way someone always has our backs." Todd continued.
"Well what if *they* get surprise attacked and get killed? Then it's just one on one. And he's probably got more booby traps rigged up, just like the one that got Tommy over there, his head is still spinning on the discoball! And we aren't brutal killers! We're fucking 17 year olds! More than half of us are Arts majors!"
"I'm with Todd!" Said Sarah, clinging to his least blood drenched arm.
"No. No, no no, no. I..." It occurred to Mike, very suddenly. "Oh." The entire situation, from start to finish had felt very forced, somehow. At that moment, he figured it out.
"Ah. Would you excuse me?" He said with a big, broad grin. He marched out of the group immediately, into the hallway, unconcerned with booby traps or hidden killers. Moments later, there was a blood curdling scream.
"Oh god, no!" Screamed Sarah.
Todd and the others rushed to his aid, and found him face down in a pool of blood. The killer, somewhere, laughed at his triumph as his conquest inched forward toward his insane glory.
Two hours later, as the sun began to rise, the murderer towered over the frail Penelope, whom he'd been saving for last since the very beginning, he wore Todd's extracted face like a prized crown.
"It had to be you, Pen. It was YOUR mother that destroyed my family, it was YOUR mother who drove mine to her to sui-" There was an audible, crunchy thunk.
The hulking murderer collapsed into a heap, dead upon hitting the floor due to significant trauma to the brain. Penelope's eyes came into focus as the light of dawn painted her savior in golden shine.
Mike dropped the bloody section of steel pipe, which he'd pulled off of a wall only minutes before.
"Seriously? The old 'off screen death that nobody bothers to clinically confirm as actually dead but comes back at the end' bit? Just stupid. Not going to lie, that was super easy. I spent the last two hours just lying down, getting my rest. I feel great. Hell, I'll probably get some clothes shopping done, new shoes at least, I am seriously bloody, it's squishing between my toes." | Our group of friends have been lost in the woods for hours now. The car broke down and none of us had cell phone reception.. This road trip has been a disaster.
In the group is Jake, a white male who is captain of the football team. Stacy, a gorgeous cheerleader who Tommy is crushing on. Julie, a nerdy girl who hardly fits in. And finally Jimmy, a short guy who loves to make jokes. And then there is me... An African American.
A kind stranger directed us to a cabin a couple miles into the woods. He said the people there would let us use their phone..
As our group got near to the cabin.. A feeling of dread creeped into my gut.. This didn't feel right. I didn't feel safe.
As we got closer, Stacy screams, a man had jumped from the shadows and grabbed her. Jake tries to save her but he is effortlessly shoved aside.
I grab a stick from the ground, I strike the madman in the back of the head. He lets go of Stacy and turns to me...my body is shaking...
I stumble to the ground. The madman pulls a knife out and lifts it above his head. At this point I realize.. This is a horror movie... But...
The madman thrusts the knife down towards my throat.
"WAIT!" I cry.
The madman freezes.
"It's 2016." | 2016-04-18T10:07:53 | 2016-04-18T09:45:58 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] Everytime you touch somebody you get a flash of your entire future with them. | It didn't happen with everyone. I would shake a colleagues hand or maybe touch somebody and say excuse me, but you rarely ever saw something in those kinds of interactions. Usually all I ever saw was me shaking the colleagues hand the next day, or for years after. I might see nothing when I tap the women's shoulder in the grocery store because it will be the only time in my life I'll touch her again.
Before, I never really thought about how many people and places you only go once in your life. Or how many places you will never go again.
Graduating highschool was surreal, our parents always told us it would be. All the hugs, handshakes, and arms wrapped around each other for pictures that we think will outlast time. Yet, that was the day I saw more blanks, more dead ends than I had before. I grew up with those people and now I see nothing when we touch. I knew it was inevitable but I didn't know how hard it'd be to stomach the reality of it. I would never see them again.
Everybody uses the knowing for their own gain. Whether it's worth sticking around that person, our how to get brownie points at a job. This leads to being touched by almost every person you interact with nowadays.
Of course the most common use is for love. They always say you see the most when you meet your soulmate. That you'll see beautiful weddings and a white picket fence with your kids coming through the bronze latched gate after school.
Or you'll see each morning you wake up next to each other and watch as Father Time slowly catches up to you two.
I never liked the knowing. I thought it ruined all genuine connection between us. Call me old fashion, but I had always preferred spontaneous infatuation. Asking someone for their phone number or leaving mine on a napkin and then being consumed by the suspense of whether they would call. Or the nerves of a first date, how would it end? Trying to find bits and pieces of myself as I'm sure they do me.
Friends of mine used the knowing, meeting their soulmates early on and now I'm the outlier. Dating apps never worked and every first date the girls grab your arm in a subtle manner and hope they see the veil over their eyes or hear the footsteps of our children on the floor above as they banter playfully through the house we bought.
Yet, when you don't see this, why even continue the date? As much as we can see and know with this gift, and as often as people find love with it, it can't be forced.
Therefore all my dates, the older I got, led to bland conversation where it was apparent she didn't see what she wanted. You see, you must initiate the contact to see your timeline with them. That's why I'm a handshake, both parties see where it all leads, but with a blind date touching my arm, only she sees her time with me.
So this goes on for years, more and more people post about their found love and what they saw. They comment congratulations and follow up pictures.
Dating apps fail and blind dates become uninterested. The perpetual hopeless romanticism I've subjected myself into.
So everyday I take the train to work and do my best to avoid physical contact, especially with women I find attractive. As the years go by I study the patterns within my own. Who takes the same train at the same time I do? Who takes the same elevator to a different floor? I saw no point in touching these people because our patterns line up with our timelines, our futures are predictable and uneventful.
I was late today, as I couldn't find a tie to go with my shirt for work. How would that change my timeline?
I was rushing into the station, I swipe my card and hustle through the gates. My train is leaving and I catch a car farther back on it than I usually am. Saved by a light brown messenger bag flying through the closing doors. I jump in and gasp for air and attempt to calm my adrenaline induced nerves. As I look to my right to thank the bags owner, the train jerks to a start and my hand flys toward the slender yellow pole for those standing.
Home recordings of a young boy with almond brown hair taking his first steps on hardwood floors with white trim around the room. Silk curtains with white cloth furniture surround the frames of the footage.
I hear a small laugh, a modest giggle from the side of the video.
Then I'm in the train, still looking to my right.
I let go of the pole and her hand comes out from under it.
I'm looking at her, knowing what I saw. What I felt. What I knew.
She's got the same look of awe in her eyes, a wandering gander that found itself in me.
She fixes her hair, her almond brown hair, and laughs a little bit. Maybe even a giggle.
| He must appear quite odd fully wrapped up in winter clothing on a relatively warm autumn day. Joe noticed the curious looks he received from the strangers on the walkway. He didn’t care.
“Let them look” he thought to himself while forming a fist with his hands. The gloves made some squeezing noises. Joe blushed – maybe did care a little after all.
“They don’t know, it’s a matter of protection” he told himself and ran through them carefully avoiding every contact possible. He felt like some sort of very agile dancer, dancing through the crowd in a club.
Finally after some time there were less people to worry about and he was able to take up more speed. He couldn’t miss that train. He had seen this train a few time in his visions before. “The train with no destination” Joe liked to call it – not that it had no destination, just the train scoreboard was broken and didn’t display anything.
“My visions always led me here” muttered Joe to himself. Joe’s visions have started occurring a few months ago. He didn’t talk to anybody about them. He didn’t understand them himself completely. It just started someday when he touched the cashier’s fingers while taking back his change. He suddenly saw Pictures of their future together. At first he thought he was dreaming. It seemed like some sort of nightmare. The pictures he saw were almost the same. The cashier handing out some change to him only his clothes, the amount charged for his breakfast and the date on the receipt varied. And then the Pictures stopped appearing and he was wearing his winter clothes on a seemingly mild day.
Since then Joe had tested his ability with other people. There were different Pictures but the Result was always the same. He saw himself in winter clothing rushing to the train with the broken scoreboard.
And now he was at the station the train in front of him. He recognized some people waiting for a train. “Test subjects” he had called them before.
He waved at a few of them. Most of them turned away as if they hadn’t seen him, some wove back and moved on. Joe didn’t waste any more of his precious time on thoughts about them, the train was about to leave.
He got in and was a bit disappointed. It was a normal train. Nothing special as he had assumed. But Joe was nobody to just give up. He removed the glove of his right hand and touched another passenger slightly on the back of his hand whilst moving forward. His ability kicked in instantly but there was only one picture – himself moving past the person.
Joe opened the eyes and moved past the person he had just touched and tried again with the next. The result stayed the same. What was happening? Why was his ability not working anymore? Joe’s heart began to beat faster. He started sprinting down the train wagon touching everybody but nothing changed.
Suddenly a strong pain struck him like he had never felt before and Joe fell on the ground grasping his chest. His vision started blurring and he heard the screaming of people.
“Is there a doctor here?” someone screamed.
“We need a doctor!” another Voice continued.
“I’m a doctor, let me through” heard Joe a woman saying. She came through the masses of spectators and started talking to him.
“Can you hear me” she wanted to know.
Joe closed his eyes and vaguely felt the touch of two soft fingers pressing against his neck.
No pictures appeared.
“He has no pulse…” the women said, then he lost consciousness.
| 2017-01-11T07:44:07 | 2017-01-11T07:44:04 | 38 | 15 |
[WP] The city hired your company to clean up an old lake just outside of town. At the bottom you find the body of a woman with her ankle handcuffed to a cement block- presumably a mob killing. You pull the body out of the water and it starts coughing. She's alive.
EDIT: **WOW** thanks for all the great responses! This is my first prompt and I'm so glad that people liked it! | This is my first attempt. Please be gentle I’m a sensitive soul haha.
“Well shit, thanks kid, I’ve been down there a long time… what year is it?” She says with a surprisingly strong voice for just being pulled out of the water. I am too flabbergasted to answer her, but it doesn’t faze her. “I used to try and keep track of the days, but after a month or so I started to forget how many days had gone by, not like I can write it down” she laughs, wringing out her tattered vintage sweater.
I finally gather enough courage to tell her it was 2019 and ask her how is it possible that she is alive. “Well it’s a long story but I got into trouble with the wrong crowd in 1935. I was feeling invincible and bored with my life so I decided to try my hand at being a vigilante . That’s where my buddy Colin comes in. I got to know the dumbest mobster on the block and with some gentle nudges had him sing like a canary. I was able to learn about the family’s plots to blackmail some local business and take down some banks. After a robbery I was involved in went wrong and I was the only one to walk out, the boss Jimmy, started to grow a little bit suspicious of me. I was popping up at lot of scenarios I shouldn’t have been and continuing to live out my life despite contracts he had placed on my head.”
She gets up and stretches, I hear bones cracking as she does it. I still don’t understand, how is she alive, why is she so calm? “So anyways, Jimmy decided there was something not right about me, and had to protect the family. If you want something done right you have to do it yourself right? So, one night I was walking home from scaring some kids straight, Jimmy got me with a needle. I hadn’t been given medicine before, I didn’t know that it could work on me. Whatever was in it made me drop like a stone. When I woke up I had those new pair of shoes you found me in. Jimmy was raving and ranting about me being some unnatural beast, blah blah. He told me I was a witch and I would die like a witch. He threw me in the water and I sank to the bottom. But he got it wrong, it’s the innocent that sink, the witches float… and here I am! Took me a bit longer to float than anticipated. I bet dear ol’ Jimmy is dead by now, but I think its time to visit the family and say hello.” | There she was, drenched in water, laying on the ground. Millions of questions rushed through my head. Am i in trouble? Who else saw me? Who is she?
"Worry not, mere mortal, there is nothing to be afraid of now". Million of.... Voices overtook all my thoughts I had. "I am Mortima, i have been stuck on this lake hundreds of years. They called me "Witch". Quite.... Funny actually."
"What... Who... HOW?!" I stammered, looking at the woman as she rises up in no way a human should.
"Worry not, you will understand soon, my child." she said calmly, her eyes pierced into my soul and I could even feel it burn deep inside.
Before I could speak another word she vanished, but what scared me the most were her last words "We will meet again and you will see all that was meant. "
Note of "author" :
Never done this, got bored so did a quickie.
FEEDBACK IS VERY WELCOMING.
Also phone reddit is not a great tool for this. | 2019-11-15T06:00:58 | 2019-11-15T05:55:26 | 483 | 29 |
[WP] Snape is forced to teach sex-ed at Hogwarts. | "There have been some recent *incidents*," Snape said with an icy whisper and a pointed stare at Lavender "that have caused the Board of Governors to *re-evaluate* the school's curriculum. So instead of Potions, today I will be instructing you on the matters of reproduction." He grimaced like he had something foul caught in his nostrils. He tapped his wand against the side of the desk, and posters popped out of nowhere with detailed diagrams of genitalia. "BLIMEY!" Ron blurted out, gripping the front of the desk as his eyes went wide. A wave of giggles rolled through the classroom; Snape rolled his eyes.
"Try to control yourself and pay attention, Mr. Weasley. It may be a while before you have another opportunity to study some," he remarked with his trademark sneer as he gestured at the diagram of breasts. Ron turned bright red and shrank down in his desk while Malfoy struggled to contain his laughter.
"We will begin with a lesson concerning the genitalia." He rapped his wand against a detailed cross-section of the penis. "Can anyone name the parts of the male anatomy depicted here?" he asked the class. The room was so silent you could have heard a pixie's whisper. "Oh, no answers to volunteer for once, Ms. Granger?" His mouth twisted into the closest thing he had to a smile, but still cruel and heartless. Hermione bit her lip; she looked like she was about to cry. He was taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in humiliating the Gryffindors today. "Very well," he continued. "Get out your quills."
After a long lecture on anatomy that resulted in quite a few uncomfortable pauses and hurried glances between members of the opposite sex, the topic turned to the subject of sexually transmitted diseases. "There are a number of afflictions that you all should watch out for. These can be naturally occurring, such as Dragon's Breath which gives an uncomfortable rash, as well as the hex-based ailments that can be inflicted by a jilted lover, including Cupid's Curse and Cauldron Rot."
"Probably a common affliction for Potions Masters," Ron whispered. Harry couldn't help but snort, and Snape was looming suddenly over them like a bat. "Fifty. Points. From. Gryffindor," he said slowly, seething with anger and grinding his teeth between each pause. Ron had evidently struck a bit too close to home.
"Worse than the diseases, though," he continued "Are the attempted cures. I've seen many a foolish student" he glanced at Neville and raised his thin black eyebrows, "think that they could simply charm away a bad case of Dungeon Boils, only to find themselves in the hospital wing having Madam Pomfrey apply some particularly unpleasant creams, to some *particularly* sensitive areas." Neville looked positively sick at the thought.
From there, the lecture turned to pregnancy. "Prevention is most important," Snape said emphatically. "Though legal, there are certain sects of the Wizard community who find it... distasteful, shall we say, to not carry to term. The ladies of the room can prevent pregnancy with a simple potion, which I shall pass out instructions for all of you to brew. But for the boys in the room..." He produced a small paper packet from his pocket. "These are known as 'condoms.'" He tore it open, and a bright purple patch of rubber danced out of the package and hopped onto the table, slowly inflating. Snape looked at it with disdain as it swirled around in a circle, and lunged at Snape's crotch. "It will simply apply itself," he said as he caught it deftly, and it deflated like a worm in his hand. "But be forewarned: if it has turned black, it has expired."
"Snape's probably used to them matching the rest of his wardrobe," Ron whispered again. Hermione had to use a Silencio charm on Harry to prevent him from bursting out in laughter.
Finally, the bell rang and they fled the dungeon classroom as though chased by dragons. "I've got to... er... go to my locker!" Hermione said to her shoes, afraid to look either of the boys in the face. Ron blushed as she ran down the hallway. Padma and Parvati passed by and both gave Harry a slight wave. "Well done, boy," said a knight in a painting in the hall behind him. "Well done indeed!" | Professor Snape entered the classroom and shut the door.
"As you may have heard, the professor previously assigned for this course had an unfortunate accident involving centaurs. So I will be giving you the course. I will not tolerate puns, giggles, or any other kind of chaotic behavior in this classroom. Understood?"
Snape looked at a pair of disobeying students in the back. Without hesitating, he pointed his wand at the kid.
DISCIPLINARE CAPTIVUS!
The kid disappeared, and appeared tied up and wearing a very humiliating shiny outfit. He was gagged and tied to some sort of rack. Snape grabbed the other kid by the whiskers and gave him a paddle. "I want you to hit hard enough, but don't make him bleed. 10 times."
The other kid out of fear, began. When the punishment was finished, Snape waved his wand again:
Disciplinare Liberatio!
The kid was again in his normal clothes.
"Now take your seat... if you can stand the pain."
The audience was silent. You could hear a pin drop on the floor.
"There are three rules, equally important, for having sex in this institution:
Number one. CONSENT. No breaking of consent, by any psychological, physical or magical or otherwise means. Do not force or deceive anyone to engage in any kind of sexual activity. This includes watching, so NO SEX IN PUBLIC! Any sexual activities involving monsters require the monsters' permission.
Number Two, and perhaps the most important: SAFETY. No endangerment. This means, get checked for diseases or curses before having sex with a new partner. You can play all you want, but always have the means to avoid any casualties. If you use ropes, have an untying spell or scissors handy, and learn the arts of Shibari BEFORE TRYING!
If you use shackles or chains, keep a key handy and a safety liberation spell set to trigger if any one of you loses consciousness.
If you use any kind of torture, have a safe word so you'll stop immediately. If you have sex outside, keep a teleport spell handy in case of wild beasts. Any limits previously established must NOT BE BROKEN.
Number Three: SANITY. Absolutely NO use of mind altering drugs or any spells that could put you or your partner or partners in danger. If you must use spells for whatever idiotic reason you choose, use only prepared spells. Aphrodisiacs are allowed, JUST AS LONG as you consent.
ANYTHING ELSE IS ALLOWED. Homosexuality, group sex, ghosts, monsters, bondage, torture are allowed as long as you comply with the above three rules.
Any questions?"
Hermione raised her hand. "What about RACK? Risk aware consensual kink?"
Snape approached her. "FORBIDDEN. For next class, I want a full study of safe bondage and sadomasochistic practices and historical examples of casualties due to breaking the rules.
Now everyone open your sex education book in page 23: Contraceptives. | 2014-12-03T13:02:52 | 2014-12-03T13:02:36 | 1,151 | 42 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though. | Do you know what it is like to be the only normal human in a family of crazy people? Not low level crazy either. high level crazy. Pops? International criminal, famous for stealing prized works of art, music, and people. Mom? Wet work extraordinaire, though now she mostly consults with the Russians. I swear I've saw her phone contact ring up as "Putinator" before she picked it up.
Now my siblings. James is the brilliant mind behind the Smileware attack. Of course you've never heard of it, but call up a congressman and ask them about it and see how fast the FBI shows up on your doorstep.
Rachel is the second most normal she's the Harvard Educated Biochemist who runs Mugen-corp a huge bio-engineering firm that is currently working on cloning projects among other things.
The cake at her party today is a triangle eye. The words " congrats on making it into the Illuminati!" are scrawled in my mother's neat handwriting. The compound where I grew up is alive with members. Presidents, cardinals, and CEOs rummage around the party eating little bits of that and this.
My brother is squirreled away in the corner talking to a group of men in business suits with green screen masks on. My mother is on the phone and speaking dejectedly in chinese. My father is toasting Raul Castro over the recent arm's deal.
As much as people pretend not to, I am avoided by nearly everyone in the party.
I guess I lied. I guess I am not all that normal. Well, I am normal except for the fact that I am the reason we live on an island in the south China sea and not say in the south of France.
I guess I am normal except for the horse tranquilizers I take daily. I guess I am normal except for the fact I remember being 4 years old.
It was sunday. Swelteringly hot. I wanted an ice cream. I got said icecream. Said ice cream fell onto the hot pavement. If felt it flash behind my eyes, white hot like knives. Then I woke up.
They called it a terrorist attack. But I knew, even at the time it was me. I spent the next 4 years living in a metal cell. Spoiled, mind you. doped up.
Turns out, all of this, all of this my family revolves around me, and in a way I've come to love them for it.
My dad? Formerly a spy for the US, changed jobs as soon as I happened. Mom? A french military hero who gave up everything to start earning cash. My sister used to want to be a ballerina. My brother a computer scientist.
When I was younger I didn't get it. I thought they hated me. Locking me up, treating me like glass, but then one day, It hit me. They'd crossed lines into oblivion to try and save me, to make sure that no one would come in the night to take me away and make me their weapon, their toy.
So I sit here, taking drags off a blunt, drinking, and feeling the hot fire in me burn off, cooled by people who'd rather give up everything than risk losing me.
| My lover is special; his family is powerful, and gifted.
My lover was born 20 years ago, in what used to be Sumer, while his parents and older siblings were on the run from INTERPOL. He's told me he was cursed, but after his birth, his father and mother; Brian and Jess, reached notoriety for killing hundreds of people without being caught. His sister, Lilli, is rumored to be a high ranking member of the illuminati, should they exist, and his brother, James, has hacked his way into securing all of them safe passage anywhere they need to go and any accouterments they may need. My lover, though, he doesn't do anything like they do, you could say; you could say he's the secret weapon only used when they are beyond shits creek, when all else fails.
My lover is special, I don't know how to explain it, but I've known him angry, though he doesn't look at me then I don't think, it's not safe. I think it's because he was born dirtily in the cradle of civilization. But maybe he is cursed. It may not sound true, but when my lover looks at you, when you make contact with those ice blue eyes, they pierce your soul. If he makes eye contact with you, you will die instantly. You see, my lover sees me but I cannot see him. I think this is why he loves me, my vision is stricken.
Basil, my love was named as such because the guide traveling along with his family died when he exited his mothers womb. He had the stare of a basilisk. Accommodations have been made to protect his family.
My lover is special.
Sorry if it is weird, I fell asleep in r/nosleep and this is what that produced. | 2017-06-04T10:21:38 | 2017-06-04T07:25:26 | 519 | 70 |
[WP] You were born into a society where permanent augmented reality contact lenses are fused onto every newborn's eyes. You're unaware of this until one day, a lens falls into your left hand. | I blink, seeing a distorted version of reality in one eye and the reality in the other.
I shove the lens back in, cutting off the fake world. The fake world had too much gray, and notifications were natural, that's how we had been taught. I walked down the street, staring at all the lights. The lens fell out again, and the street went dim. Blood stained the bottom of the lamposts, and the blue light that I could still see out of my right eye went dim in my left.
I stood there for a while and saw the ghost of a person walk by. I saw the skin, but a machine lied underneath. The distorted world, that must be the lie. I repeated that to myself over and over, but I was convincing no one.
Hesitating, I tested my right eye to see if the contact was there as well. As soon as the contact popped off, an alarm went off. Sooner than I could react, a beast of metal appeared before me. It was curious as if expecting me to awake to this world.
I glared at it, and it giggled it return. It pointed to my chest, and looking down I realized that I was a machine as much as it was. How much had been a lie this whole time?
The other machine whispered a story, just a murmur coming somewhere from the depths of wires and circuits, about how it had made humans more efficient. To have a proper way to control everyone. A proper way to have everyone be happy. A utopia that could never be a dystopia, because that meant there'd have to be something living in it. The beast spun around and whispered again.
"Do you see anything alive here?" | There is an episode of Black Mirror that has a similar premise. I tried to find a way to describe it, but 1, I haven't watched it in a long time, and 2, I am not a good writer. So just watch Black Mirror Season 3 Episode 5 "Men Against Fire" | 2017-12-17T19:55:54 | 2017-12-17T18:50:57 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] It's Christmas Eve 2038. The world has been destroyed due to nuclear war, but Santa, being immortal, has survived, and plans to deliver presents to the few remaining humans locked in their fallout shelters. | A tune only truly recognized by the oldest of us plays on the music-player in our living room. “Santa Claus is coming...” it sings to the 17 of us who are in the room. Some are drinking, others just talking, trying to hold on to the traditions of the old world. I just sit here on the couch, trying to enjoy myself. I get up and walk to the table, thirsty for something, maybe a drink or maybe just something to end the boredom that comes in our shelter. So I take my drink, something called “7-Up,” and just walk around a little. There’s not much to do. There’s a few adults and plenty of little children, and just 2 elders. But I’m the only teenager here. The last time there was somebody who I was actually friends with was, well, last Christmas. Before Hannah and her dad left. Brushing the thought from my mind, I leave the living room and pass through the quarters hallway, walking by all the bedrooms. I climb the stairs and go to my favorite place, the only place in my world where I can see it. The outside. I pull myself up to a hidden little loft and lay back. I begin to relax, still hearing the “Christmas” music in the background. But looking out the only window in our world, I admire the stars, and see something I’ve never seen before. One star, moving. Flying through the sky. I jump to my feet and look through the window. It’s mesmerizing. Wait. What the hell. It’s getting bigger. Closer. Closer. The “star” becomes a string of lights, flying in to us. Our home. What are those? Are those? I had never heard of mutant deer who could fly. Maybe they could be those Purvaks I had heard about? Those deer could jump nearly 50 yards at a time. But no, these were different. These were flying. Holy shit. They’re landing. And behind them, a sled? What is that? The thing, whatever it is, flies down, and comes to, Well, a rather rough landing into the sandy ground. It’s loud, and rather very messy. And so now, the sleigh and with it, the mutant deer, or at least what I think are deer. Out from the sleigh steps a man, dressed in all red, and with him a bag. What do I do? Do I sound the alarm? Tell somebody? Holy shit. Holy shit. No. I’m just gonna stay here. And see what happens. The man looks older now, from what I can see of him. Huge white beard, and some weird foreign hat on his head. His boots tell me military, but his, well very honestly, costume tells me freak. He walks to the window I now look at. And knocks. | Barron Trump tweedled his thumbs and looked nervously at his son, Donald Trump II.
"Is Santa coming, Papa?" The young Donald asked.
"...I don't know, son."
Meanwhile, at a nearby nuclear bunker, Chelsea Hubbell and her daughter, Hillary Clinton Hubbell, huddled around the smoldering remains of a Haitian ex-child sex slave to keep warm. Their last one.
Kim Jeongmin, the last north korean, sat in complete darkness and rocked her baby, kim Jeongbbang, in her arms. Humming a christmas lullaby to keep her quiet. A single tear ran down her rosy cheek and onto her babes' forehead.
Santa Clause was worried. His sleigh was powered by Christmas spirit, and it was going to take a miracle to get it running tonight. He dragged on a Chesterfield King, the butt of the cigarette warming a pink patch on his snow covered lips. After a few more drags he threw the cigarette into the white abyss of winter and slumped down on his bag of presents. He closed his eyes and let the snow cover him like a blanket. To think the world ended over a feud about Donald Trump's hands and Kim Jeongun's belly. He mired up at Rudolph's tomb, then he stared blankly off into the snowstorm. | 2017-12-22T15:03:10 | 2017-12-22T14:27:36 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | Gabriel knew his name would become synonymous with traitor. But really, what did it matter? Better to be a traitor than to be subservient to madmen, or to look the other way as the galactic genocide continued. On the ship's holographic screen, the tiny pinprick of the green planet was growing -- a grassy blade slowly becoming a hillock.
He'd been a soldier once-upon-a-time. Back before wisps of grey hair had strangled his natural blond. Before the pain arrived that squeezed his back each time he leaned over the ship's dashboard. Before the Totanians had been wiped clean from their planet that was now a charred ball of black -- a radiated graveyard of a once-great species.
Gabriel had been one of the first to sign-up when the war had broken out. Five civilizations battling for control of this sector of space -- as if the empty blackness contained any meaning at all, anything worthwhile. It wasn't even a barren no-man's land they'd been fighting over... it was literally *nothing*.
Supply and mining ships on their way from Earth to a new colony in the Betelgeuse system had gotten caught in the war's crossfire. That had forced the Solar Alliance -- and Gabriel -- into the fray.
It was strange, thinking back, how glitzy and glamourous a war in space had once sounded. Like those old films he'd watched growing up. Men charging out of fox-holes and bunkers and sticking a flag down in the liberated land. But by the end of the first year of the Solar Alliance's involvement, all of Gabriel's friends in the corps had been killed, their ships annihilated.
Their deaths had been the first pang of guilt to swell in his stomach. Why had Gabriel had survived and they hadn't? What was the purpose of his living while those around him died? -- He felt like there had to be a greater reason for each dogfight he survived.
When the Committee had voted to do something that would have seemed unbelievable only a year before, Gabriel had nodded, silently. The right choice. It would end the war early -- and there would be fewer casualties in the end.
The war between the civs had historically been fought in space and *only* in space. That was the way of the galaxy -- few civilians could be killed if there was no war on a planet's surface.
Humanity changed the rules.
"We deliver a couple of little parcels," his commander had told him, "onto one or two of the planets, and that's it. Game over. We've then done what they couldn't achieve in a thousand fucking years."
Gabriel had believed it. None of the other species had developed nukes... And once they saw the destruction, the fiery mushroom hell that only humans could deliver... That would be the end of all war forever. They would bow. And yes, humanity would have done something bad -- something terrible, even. But for the right reasons and for a just cause.
Only it hadn't been that simple.
Never was, Gabriel figured.
The 'green planet' careened into view. That had been its nickname back when it had been pristine. Now it was a smoldering muddy wreck, cratered and barely habitable. Not green anymore.
A ship orbited the planet -- twenty-times the size of Gabriel's one-man craft.
"Greetings, Gabriel Launder," crackled a voice over his intercom. "You may dock when you're ready."
Could he really do this?
The problem with the nukes had been first been demonstrated on Totania. Yes, they had inflicted the damage the Solar Alliance had intended. But the Totanians didn't just throw their hands up and surrender, as had been predicted.
They didn't surrender after a hundred nukes had fallen. Not even after a thousand.
They had *never* given up.
Not until the very last one of them had screamed into a fiery nothingness.
Every species involved in the war was proud -- and rightfully so. And they were all sickened by what the Solar Alliance had done. None would surrender to such a callous race of beings.
In time, Gabriel had been sickened, too. These weren't fighters or warriors they were bombing. These were children and parents and teachers and all the things he kept precious in his sugar-coated recollections of his own childhood.
The bombings were still happening. The galaxy-wide cleansing. It would continue until humanity was the final space-faring species in the galaxy.
Unless he did this.
Unless he gave them all the secrets of the atom.
Because the only kind of destruction humans ever respected, was mutual.
"I'm ready to dock," said Gabriel.
---
I raced my regular co-writer Ecstatic to write for this. I don't want to say hers was faster and better, but... :) If you enjoyed either /r/nickofstatic has lots of serials by both of us :) | It's dumbfounding really. No other species figured out how to replicate the engine which drove all the galaxies stars. In a way, the blindness of the various species was more ideological than technological. It wasn't that they couldn't discover fission or fusion. They simply wouldn't use its power.
In the millennia before humanity took to the stars, a single civilization discovered a means to transport using some sort of trans-dimensional hoopla. Frankly, it was almost more of a spiritual experience than anything humanity ever developed. Individuals on this planet could imagine themselves elsewhere and, bingo, they there were. To most humans, it was reminiscent of New Age nonsense and, well, their little minds really couldn't accomplish this. Humanity was alone among the higher life forms.
So there evolved throughout the galaxy a completely alien concept of travel for humans. It was relatively easy for most civilizations to adopt. Vast trade networks evolved and much of the galaxy opened to a powerful intersection of ideas. Philosophy and spirituality coalesced around the theory that all that is must be preserved on the atomic level. Creation had determined that atoms, the basic foundation of all matter, was sacred.
Natural degradation at the atomic level was permitted, but interference by any life form on the atomic level was forbidden.
When humanity took to the stars, replete with fusion drives, the galaxy shrieked in horror. Attempts were made to convince humanity of the wrongness of atomic meddling but were ultimately dead ends. Humanity was simply incapable of learning how to maneuver the cosmos in the same way as everyone else.
Other civilizations began to see the relative ease by which humanity traveled and decided they wanted in on the deal. The mental training necessary to build human engines was minimal by comparison.
Gradually, the galactic order began to degrade as civilization after civilization peeled off and adopted the simpler mechanical approach. Eventually, it was decided that humanity was a reprobate civilization and must be destroyed in entirety.
The dominant military powers transported enormous amounts of death using disease, terrifying creatures, and shock troops. Much of humanity was destroyed in the initial attack. However, those on board human ships were protected from the invaders. The radiation produced by the engines disrupted whatever enabled the other species used. Additionally, the exposure to the unnatural radiation while in transit did something bizarre to the traveler. It seemed to disrupt the ability of the traveler to use the power again. They were essentially cut off from future travels.
Once upon human worlds, the opposing forces looked up in terror as humanity made use of their most powerful weapon. A product of long-forgotten political tension, a well-tested delivery system dotted former colonies with mushroom clouds. Human commanders made the decision to sacrifice what was left of their comrades in order to defeat their enemies. With the surviving invaders unable to escape, the defenders deployed hunter-killer drones and other mechanized weaponry. The losses were incalculable.
Quickly, humanity pivoted from the defender to the attacker and destroyed planet after planet. Human scientists began to experiment with more powerful weapons including both planet killing and supernova inducing weapons. As humanity closed in on their enemy's home planets, the night sky on Earth remained unchanged. It would take millennia before the darkness of the once bright galaxy could be truly seen, but the darkness inside humanity was easy to recognize. They were the victors, vengeful and proud. | 2022-12-15T08:44:27 | 2019-12-19T07:14:10 | 431 | 27 |
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that's when you realize you've been dating a dragon in human form. | When I went downstairs to the basement to begin the remodeling project that my girlfriend had been asking me to do, I wasn’t expecting it to already be done, and for our cellar to already be full of actual tons of gold coins and jewels.
“Holy shit...hey, Maya, can you come down here for a second?”
“Why, what’s wrong, darling? Ah, I see you’ve found my hoard. Well, um, this is quite awkward...”
“I mean, I’m not mad at you or anything, but how in the hell did all this gold and stuff end up in here? I was gonna put a TV and stuff in the basement, but now I don’t know if I even have any room to walk around down there without stepping on jewels and shit.”
“I certainly hope you wouldn’t, Jay. Those coins and jewels are very precious to me.” my girlfriend told me. “How dare you even say something like that! What kind of boyfriend are you, treating my precious treasure like it isn’t worth anything!!” Maya’s temper suddenly flared up, and the room got noticeably warmer.
“Babe, I never implied it was worthless, what the hell?! Calm down, I swear I’d never step on your precious treasure...” I backed away slowly, knowing exactly how to handle her fiery outbursts.
“Are you sure?” She asked me, glaring at me with an intensity that I’d never seen in her eyes before.
“I promise I won’t,” I told her.
“Okay...” she calmed down. “I’m sorry I acted out like that, Jay. I guess I can’t really hide my true self from you anymore, now that you’ve discovered my hoard.”
“True self?” I asked her, curious. The room slowly began to grow warmer again as my girlfriend’s body suddenly began to glow orange for several seconds, and a large pair of wings and a tail grew out from her back. Her pretty brown eyes had turned a very brilliant yellow, and her black hair had transformed into a vibrant red color.
“This, Jay, is who I really am...” Maya spoke to me.
“Whoa...” I was almost speechless. “Maya, what the hell are you...?”
“I am a dragon, from a land that is quite far from here; one that probably no longer exists. Before I met you, I was sent through a portal to burn down this town of yours, under the assumption that humans had not made any technological advancements that could stop me, but obviously that isn’t the case, since your government would probably take me away to Area 51 if you weren’t the first human that I had met,” she explained to me. “Your kindness taught me that the things I had been told about your kind were wrong, that there were no more dragon hunters left anymore, and I can’t thank you enough for that...”
“Oh, I see...” I listened to her, still keeping away from her in case she might accidentally burn me or something.
“Are you frightened?” She asked me. “I understand if you might be.”
“Honestly, I’m a little afraid, since I’ve never seen anyone like you outside of works of fiction, but I’m more shocked that you’ve managed to hide your secret from me for the last four years that we’ve been dating.”
“I guess I was just afraid that you might not love me anymore if you ever found out,” she confessed to me.
“Don’t be silly, Maya. I still think you’re beautiful, no matter what you look like. Even though your temper tantrums can be scary, even if I sometimes feel like I’m literally on fire every time you and I get intimate, I still love you for who you are,” I walked up to her and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“I love you too, Jay!” She suddenly hugged me and brought my body against her. I was expecting to get burned alive when she wrapped her arms around me, but her warmth was actually quite comforting.
“I know you do...” I ran my fingers through her hair, laughing. We stayed like that for several eternally long seconds before she finally let go of me.
“You know, maybe the basement should be locked up for now...” she told me, leading me upstairs out of the cellar.
“If that’s what you’d like, that’s fine with me. I was super bummed out about having to work down there all day anyway.” I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV in my living room.
“You’re so lazy sometimes, Jay,” she giggled, sitting next to me.
“So, uh, this might be a weird thing to ask, but now that I know you’re a dragon, do you think that maybe I could, like, ride on your back and fly around, like in Skyrim?” I asked her.
“Only if you buy me dinner first, darling. Doing that in dragon culture is considered very intimate, you know...” she replied, putting her head on my shoulder. | "I'l look for a good spot for our treasure," Nina says.
I nod.
I head downstairs, mentally letting go of the house. It's not so special, I tell myself. It's only the house I've had for about five years, three years before I met the love of my life... It's odd how you forget these things as time goes on... Relationships become different ass time goes on. they become more... real. Very real.
I sigh.
I can't believe it as I pick up the phone to call my boss.
He can't believe it either.
"Why in hell, Jake, are you calling me at ten O'clock at night!"
I'm silent for a moment.
"Hello! Hello!"
"Hi Tim," I say.
He hears my voice.
"Everything Ok? The assignment i gave you can wait, I've told you-" Tim says.
I don't respond.
"Hello!"
"I-" I say. It's so unreal. "A family issue came up," I say.
I hear Tim sigh loudly.
"Really?" Tim says.
I don't say anything.
"Seriously, Jake! A Family issue?!"
I hold my tongue.
"How many days you need?" Tim says, knowing that I wouldn't have called him at ten O'clock at night just to ask for vaca days.
"I don't think-"
I hear Tim sigh loudly.
"Why are you doing this to me, Jake" Tim begs.
I have nothing to say.
We hang up a few minutes later.
Then comes the lease and the phone bills companies.
I'm staring at myself in the mirror a few minutes later when I'm struck by the maniacal urge to laugh.
So I let it out.
Nina comes to see if I'm alright.
Two days later we are on our third trip to some nice island Nina found. We are driving back to town in the car. She only flies outside of the town limits. We have located four houses in China. The first, the next backup, the next backup and the next backup. the reason we have only four is because we haven't really had time to find more. The only thing that bothers me is this journal Nina has started carrying around. It isn't hers, i know that, and it hasn't got her handwriting anywhere on the scribbled up cover and spine... I hope we can meet up with the rest like her, if they can help us....
Nina asks me now why I was laughing those few days ago.
Well...
This is the story of how I gave up my home and job for a girl...
(Ps. She gave it back. The crown, I mean. Well, she kinda left it somewhere by some person who was too old to move... with a note... It was kinda like saying that we are sorry and that this man really couldn't have done it. Whatever. I hope He's Ok. If anything, it was Nina's idea, though I fully support it. She's the crafty one around here. Beats me at chess all the time. I don't even like chess! Talk about who you get as a soul mate. Ok, gotta go she's looking over my shoulder. For more on this story, comment to me and I'll give you the updates via a blog. Ok, gotta go, we're back home. Cheers!)
(Pps. I know. 'Cheers' is English and that area of the world. Lol. Irony.) | 2020-08-03T09:58:09 | 2020-08-03T09:42:08 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] You are permanently stuck invisible. Your significant other is blind. Whenever you both go out in public, to the bypassers your SO is constantly seen as someone possessing a sixth sense but a little weird for talking to themself. This is always highly amusing to you. | "Who are you talking to?" The kid asked.
This would be fun.
"Nobody." AJ said, the word leaving her lips for the fifth time today.
Children were the worst. Sure, everyone was curious about the blind girl who muttered things to herself like she was casting for a bad Hollywood horror movie, but children were brazen enough to actually say something about it, rather than just politely nodding and stomping down on their internal accelerator.
His sister, probably a few years older, tried to drag him away from the strange woman in robes. AJ embraced the stereotype. Before the accident she was an aspiring actress - which of course means she worked in a bar, serving drinks. But she did it was flair and panache, and she very much enjoyed the descriptions of people whispering things to their significant others as they walked past us. Ever the actress.
"Talking to nobody is pretty silly!" The boy said, twisting a lollipop between his fingers. AJ sighed, all the creaky walking, muttering and decrepit robes in the world couldn't give an obnoxious kid the right hint.
"Kid, c'mere." She said, leaning into things. I stopped, reaching down and absent-mindedly grabbing a muddy leaf stuck to my foot. I didn't realise, obviously, that his sister was looking in our direction. When I looked up, her eyes narrowed, then she turned away, like she wasn't quite sure what she saw.
"Let's go." The sister whispered, but the boy was too curious. He took a step over to the blind girl with the walking stick and dishevelled hair and looked up at her like she was one of her school teachers. It was almost endearing.
"I'm talking to a ghost."
"A ghost?! Ooh cool!"
That was my cue.
A leaf flew against his face, first, then came the feathery touch of his side, then the sudden movement of a branch falling from a tree. The sister screamed, the little boy practically jumped out of his own skin. AJ tried to hold back the smile creeping up her face, she tried to remain as stoic and creepy as possible.
I cranked it up a notch, twisting her hair over her face, then started moving her cloak, then pulled off the kid's hat and tossed it into the playground. He chased it, because of course he did, and the rest of the playground started doing all kinds of spooky things. The worst part was, no matter how much I wanted to laugh, I couldn't. The show had to come first.
The sister, by this point, had fled behind a tree and was begging her brother to come back.
Then something odd happened, he started laughing. Why was he laughing? What happened?
"I wouldn't laugh, child, the ghost doesn't like being laughed at. He might follow you home, and we wouldn't want that."
Even in spite of AJ's slightly over-the-top insinuation that I was some kind of child-pervert ghost, the kid kept laughing. I tried reaching for another low-hanging branch, but he laughed even harder.
"Cut it, kid." AJ said, finally annoyed. The sister was peeking around the corner of her tree, I saw her expression become confounded. Everyone else in the park had let out something of an audible gasp, ranging from the amused to the dramatic. The kid kept laughing and laughing.
Only when he pointed directly at me did I finally figure out why.
"You're naked! Look sis, the ghost is a naked man!"
And that's how I learned Satan had a sense of humour. | (First attempt at writing anything fictional ever, so critique me, but be gentle!)
A man slept alone, laying on a soft throw blanket. He was comfortable and snoring gently, and appeared rather at peace with the world. Suddenly, an alarm clock perched on the night stand clicked, followed by the most obnoxiously british voice declaring:
"Gooooooood morning gents! It's a balmy 86 degrees, with a slight chance for showers in the after--."
An annoyed groan issued out of thin air, followed by an angry smack on the alarm clock, which stopped its weather briefing. There was a brief pause, until a deep yet quiet voice seemed to appear from right next to the sleeping man's ear, from thin air:
"Steve, hon, wake up... Wake up!"
Steve snorted, cleared his throat, and mumbled "What?"
The disembodied voice sounded again. "Today's the day!"
"What do you mean--" Steve sat up, as quick as a flash. "Oh fuck, is it today?"
"Yep!" Steven's fiance sounded giddy. "Today, you get to meet my parents!"
"Please, Chris, Can't we just delay it again? I haven't used the funeral excuse in a while..."
"Nope, you're not getting out of it. If we wait any longer, they'll think we're not actually engaged."
Steve just sighed and slid out of bed, and made his way to the en-suite bathroom, his fingers tracing slightly worn grooves on the wall, a remnant of many similar trips to the restroom. Steve found everything in its proper place, absentmindedly touching his facial cleansers, razor and other such accoutrements found in a typical bathroom. Steve heard the pad of footsteps behind him as Chris used the second sink to follow his own morning ritual. After looking to make sure Steve hadn't left any stray moisturizer, Chris gently guided his fiance down the stairs, although any onlooker would see only one man making his way down.
(I will write more, once I get some pointers from better writers. Thoughts and tips welcome! I know my writing is far from good, but I am working on it every day!) | 2020-06-06T21:47:25 | 2020-06-06T20:47:58 | 244 | 88 |
[WP] The bride is having an affair with the best man. During his wedding speech the best man decides to see how heavily he can hint about it without anyone actually working it out. | I stood and tapped lightly on my glass until the room fell silent. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Most of you I know already, as friends or employees, but for those who I don't, my name is Peter. I have the honour of serving as best man, and I'd like to say a few words about the bride and groom on this joyful occasion."
"To his family, the groom is known as Richard, but to me he has always been my pal Dick. We've known each other all our lives, and Dick has always been my right-hand man. At school, at college, and then at the company I founded. Dick isn't just a friend, he's a part of me, and for the longest time, I didn't think any woman could make him happy. Then I met Christina."
"When Christina came to work for us, she was a wide-eyed innocent, fresh out of college. She lacked experience, and me and Dick had to whip her into shape. I'm afraid we had to ride her a little hard for a while. There was a lot of late nights and even a few weekends. There was a lot for her to take in, but she never said no. She would moan a bit, but she always came through in the end. Before long she had mastered the job, and since then she's excelled in every position we put her in."
"Now, Christina is a beautiful girl, and I'm sure every guy in the office noticed her. But right from the beginning, she only had eyes for my Dick here. I know she was a little intimidated at first. She's a petite girl and he's a big guy, but before long they were inseparable. It's wonderful to see her smile when she thinks about Dick, to see her face light up when she knows he's coming, and the love all over it when he does."
"And Dick, I know how happy Christina makes you. Whenever she's around you seem to stand up a little taller than you ever did before. I know you like to tease her occasionally, or to give her a harder time than she deserves, but I know that deep inside you only want to make her as happy as she makes you. And she's lucky to have you. You're strong and hardworking. You're handy around the house. Oh, and you're a great cook, old friend."
"Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, I won't take up any more of your time. I'll only reiterate that it gives me immense pleasure to see Christina and Dick together, and I look forward to that continued pleasure for many years to come." | Congrats to my best friends Kyle and Erin on their recent marriage! Sorry about the lack of presence this week bud, I've been busy doing errands. I mean, its been tough keeping up with all of it. Just constantly running around with errands to do. First the thing at the yacht club. That was the first one. It was a huge secret, but I think we kept it a surprise for everyone! And I mean that one was rough. Like an hour and a half, two hours out of my day constantly for a week? Then it was at the rodeo. Yeah, errands and rodeos don't normally mix but it was a special occasion. I had to ride something before you two got married huh? I still cant believe that you chose Erin though. We all thought it was never a serious thing when you guys met at the frat party 10 years ago but here you are! Hopefully your marriage lasts as long as I felt those errands took. Cause we all knew that no one was coming, especially Erin, until the errands were done. Love you both! Congrats! | 2015-04-03T01:14:55 | 2015-04-02T22:11:05 | 214 | 15 |
[WP] If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years. We are trying a new technique. We don't know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope we are getting through. Please wake up. | Alaina sat in her car, phone in her hand.
The message had come as she turned the engine off, stopping her just before she went to unbuckle and get out. Her brow furrowed, trying to figure out who among her friends and family would be cruel enough to send such a thing.
There was no contact connected- just a series of numbers she didn’t recognize. Before she could take another action or even another breath, a second message came in.
*If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years. We are trying a new technique. We don't know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope we are getting through. Please wake up.*
It was identical to the first one. The only thing that was different was the sender. Another series of numbers that at first glance, didn’t even look like a phone number. She didn’t even recognize the area code — it wasn’t from anywhere in her state.
By the time she had unbuckled, grabbed her purse, and made it into her office building, her phone had vibrated three more times. As she sat down at her desk and turned her computer on, she had heard it vibrate in her purse three *more* times.
It went off again as she pulled it out to try and silence the damned thing. As she glanced at the messages, her heart began to thump faster. The joke wasn’t funny the first time, and now she was at 9 identical texts.
*If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years. We are trying a new technique. We don't know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope we are getting through. Please wake up.*
Every one of them was from a different number, none of which she recognized. She opened up one of them at random and shot a message back.
*Who is this? Who put you up to it?*
If they didn’t answer, she planned to go on to the next one. And then the next.
Putting all notifications on silent, she slid her phone into her desk drawer and tried to focus on work.
*They’ll get bored,* she thought, wiggling her mouse to make the screen come to life faster.
It never worked, but it didn’t stop her hand from trying every morning. It did make her feel a little bit more foolish that day than normal, however. Shaking her head she stood up. Windows would start when it started, and it would move at whatever pace it wanted to. It always did.
Instead of staring, and stewing, and feeling a little bit crazy, she stood up and walked to the break room. She needed coffee, and she needed to clear her head. The faces of her co-workers along the way helped to ground her.
A little bit.
Within five minutes she had a cup of thick coffee that was too hot to drink, and a chest full of new air, and she hoped the day would settle in. Her average, 9-5, nothing weird day. The thought was rotating around her head as she sat down, and opened up her outlook.
Waiting for her was 36 new emails, all with the same subject.
*If you are reading this, you've been in a coma for 20 years. We are trying a new technique. We don't know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope we are getting through. Please wake up.*
"What the fuck." The words slid out of her mouth before she could stop them. She barely even heard her own voice, with how distracted it all had made her.
When a hand landed on her shoulder, a yelp rang out and she jumped half an inch off her chair.
A low chuckle came from her cubicle mate as she turned to see who had snuck up on her. "You okay, Sarah?" he asked.
Alaina's brain froze, wondering what exactly had happened to her world.
/r/beezus_writes | There is no way for me to know if this is true or not. I hope it isn’t, because the life I’ve made for myself over the last twenty years is pretty nice. I’ve got a wife, a house, and a decent job. I even have two cats that are only jerks part of the time.
I suppose there is some good news. I’m still here, or possibly “here”. Either it isn’t true, and I’m actually living this life, or your message isn’t working, so I can continue believing that I’m living this “life”. Does it really matter which is real, as long as I *believe* it is real?
I always heard that people couldn’t read during dreams, and I’m sitting here reading your message. Maybe comas work differently than dreams. Or maybe I’m misremembering that thing about being unable to read during dreams. Okay, that’s a little confusing, but so what? There are plenty of things that I misremember all the time. It doesn’t mean that you’re telling the truth.
Hold on for a second, I’m hearing voices around me again. Oh, that’s just something that has been happening from time to time, since I was in a car accident when I was a teenager. It usually stops after a minute or two, so I’ll be back with you in a moment.
What are these voices saying? Something about “being patient” and “treatment has shown promise before”. Normally they talk about vital signs being normal, or that there have been no changes since the last visit. It doesn’t make much sense to me either, but I’ve just sort of learned to live with it.
Hmm. The voices are still going. This is weird.
Wait a minute. Something doesn’t add up.
I’ve got a life. I know I do. I remember my wife, clear as day. I remember my house. I remember going into work everyday. How could you say I’m in a coma? I even told you about my two cats.
Yes, the ones who are only jerks part of the time.
Wait.
Oh no. That’s....that’s not right.
My cats are only jerks part of the time. If this were real, they would be jerks all the time.
I’m starting to get light headed. My legs aren’t moving right. Why are all the lights getting so bright? I can’t see anything. Where are you going?
.....
Oh, it’s beginning fade. Where am I?
When did I sit on this couch?
What is that on the wall?
“Welcome! Everything is fine.” | 2022-12-02T19:29:33 | 2020-01-16T08:17:28 | 62 | 26 |
[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.
| "I'm sorry...there must be a glitch with this translator. You do *what* now?"
"Fiddle with the Higgs Field around our ships."
"And your 'Higgs Field' is where a particle essentially gives an object its mass via its interaction with other particles, yes?"
"Yup!"
"And you...fiddle with it?"
"Yeah, it ain't too precise. Zero Point Drives have a decent range of power that fluctuates, but they work!"
"Just...walk me through it again."
"Alright, well the ZPD activates and it creates a field around the ship that essentially begins to stop bosons. The ship essentially loses matter now that it now longer interacts with the Universe, approaching a 'Zero Point' or 'ground state' of existence. Everyone and everything inside is fine due to the field creating a sort of pocket within the ship."
"And acceleration?"
"Well our quantum vacuum thrusters—"
"And those are?"
"Oh! QVTs use quantum vacuum fluctuations of energy in space to propel itself using virtual plasma. As I was saying, once the ZPD fires up, those kick to go faster than light, and the lack of mass means its possible to do so."
"So first you alter the existence of your ship and then you tap into the still vastly misunderstood vacuum of virtual particles, risking destabilizing all matter aboard the vessel and risking fusing into an object once you complete your jump."
"We keep the spacelanes clear of debris just in case."
"And when it does happen?"
"Live and Learn. For those of us not aboard that ship of course. They're dead."
"..." | 2017-03-31T02:57:21 | 2017-03-30T23:27:43 | 95 | 61 |
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