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] You had a simple goal: be the most powerful superhuman around. Naturally, this led you to become a villain, but you were never evil - your goal achieved, you marched up to the heroes association and told them you'd like to train new heroes. They hesitated, but agreed. | Before he became the terrifying offender to society, Conquest was nothing more than an average goon. But his thirst for the elixirs of victory led him to a path of evolution. Every defeat Conquest faced would turn into a victory the day he broke out of prison. Steadily Conquest went from a mere cub to a Bear all within the span of a year, capable of fighting entire countries alone. Until he became the champion of the world. No man, no animal, and no monster could defeat the mighty Conquest. Conquest had finally consumed all that was left in the golden chalice of victory. But he would later find himself starving and dying to taste something he had once experienced many times in the past. The meal that Conquest wanted to have again was none other than defeat. Having won so many battles has led to Conquest growing bored.
“ I fought battle after battle in search of defeat, and still I have yet to find a worthy warrior” Conquest lamented.
“Perhaps this is a curse from the gods themselves. A punishment for wishing for something so selfish and worthless.”
Conquest would continue to desolate in his somber cabin until a thought popped into his head.
“If these mortals cannot train on their own to rival my power, then maybe I the great Conquest can train them myself.” said Conquest with exultation.
“ I shall head to the Fortress of Aegis to see if they will allow me to train their young warriors. The next generation will be my only hope in giving me the sweet taste of defeat”
Filled with motivation Conquest grabs his keys and heads over to his 1993 Range Rover to get ready for his drive to the “Fortress of Aegis”.
“Come now Odysseus, we must make a journey to the great Fortress of Aegis! The tests of traffic will not stop us this time!”
After his twelve-hour drive Conquest finally reached the gates of Aegis. The security guards of the facility all moved out of their way knowing that it be useless to try and stop him. With no one in his way Conquest casually walked to the meeting room of the Seven Shields.
“ Good Morning!” said Conquest.
The Seven Shields were all paralyzed in fear. Each hero wanted to take action but it was as if their own body had taken control of them. They knew that trying to take Conquest down would be like seven tardigrades trying to kill an elephant.
“ I stand before you all to ask for a request. This request being the chance to train the next generation of warrior.”
The Seven Shields looked at each other with surprise and confusion.
“ You mortals have failed time and time again to defeat thou so the Great Conquest will offer to be a Preceptor of these young warriors. I believe that within a few years I can make these young men and women into beasts capable of finally giving me the taste of defeat. Oh yes and also, helping the ants of this city. If you decline my offer I will first beat each one of you down until you are barely alive. Next, I will kill each and every single termite within your fortress. Finally, I will destroy this entire city and will not stop my rampage until every building has crumbled beneath my feet. You will then each have to live knowing that you could have prevented my wrath if you all had only agreed to my offer beforehand. Then maybe If I feel like it, I'll find a villain group who will accept my wisdom. I shall give you until the next day-”
“ We accept your offer, you can start training them tomorrow”, said Quick
“Wise choice. I will return here at the crack of dawn to start training. If you are stupid enough to change your mind Odysseus and I will be waiting in the dridrive-throughat Chicken Shack. I have heard that their sandwiches are eggs-celent.”
The Seven Shields waited for Conquest to walk out of the fortress of Aegis towards his automobile before speaking again.
“Quick, you can’t just go out and make huge decisions like that. We should’ve discussed this problem more first” Mighty man said furiously.
“By all means Mighty if you think you can take em go do it! That psycho and whoever the hell Odysseus is will be waiting for you at Chicken Shack.” Quick fired back.
Im a beginner writer and Feedback would be greatly appreciated | "Well, if I'm bein' honest here, you guys kinda suck.”
A dozen funny faces turn towards the door. The menace they’ve been searching for leans casually against the very same table where they plotted his capture. On the bright side, they could remove the many annoying security measures that slowed down their arrival, as they sure as hell didn’t work.
"Sure, maybe a decade or two ago, you were the top of the food chain, but that’s old news. Have any of you guys ever even thought about updating your costumes.”
There was The Mighty Muscle and his strange attire, or lack there of. Bug eyes, who lived up to his name. Miss Speedy Quick, who actually needs a cane now.
“So how about it, I need some new weights before these bones start to wither.”
A plenty other anomalies accompanied him, but the strangest of all was the one with the fewest decorations. The head of the long elliptical table, someone who he’s never heard be called anything other than “Ma’am.”
She was a dark-haired woman dressed in a darker suit and covered by an even darker mask. It would be a mistake to call it anything other than black, a pure void consuming the light. Staring at it, one could swear it was flat, for no light could highlight its edges. In reality, a face was sculpted onto it, its eyes permanently shut.
“How about you?” He throws his hands in the air as if to celebrate. “Grand leader of the league of subpar heroes.” The face doesn’t chisel. “I’ve always wondered what kind of power was behind that mask, and I’ll be more than happy to smash it.”
“I assure you, that is in neither of our interests. Your other proposal, however…” Somehow, the mask had no effect on her voice.
In an instant, all of the seats flipped towards the other end of the table. Whispers erupted. “She can’t seriously be entertaining him, can she?” Flew by the villain’s ears.
“I believe my son would also find the idea quite interesting.”
Loud whispers became quiet shouts. The young villain’s back shot straight up. “Your… son?” He asked.
“Why yes. I hope he gets along with both you and his fellow students. He has a bright future ahead of him. A very, very bright one. And depending on how this plan of yours goes, one just as equally blinding bright for you and for this whole world.”
For once, the villain kept his thoughts to himself. “What the hell did I sign up for?” | 2022-12-17T00:12:32 | 2022-12-16T22:24:02 | 99 | 21 |
[WP]You live a long happy life after finding your soulmate. You grow old together and die peacefully…Suddenly you wake up. You hear ’END SIMULATION’. ”I knew you liked that bitch!” screams your wife, who was watching the simulation. “I want a divorce!” | Dylan sat up on the operating chair, shielding his eyes from bright lights from the wall-covered TV monitors that flashed the words END SIMULATION in red bold text. The pleasant warm feeling he had while holding his soul mate for the last time faded away. He shivered in the cold chair.
“Stacy? Is that you?” When he turned around, a young woman with brown eyes and a bob cut glared at him with her arms crossed from the back of the room. Memories of him dating and then marrying Stacy’s best friend Maria in the simulator flashed in his head. His face burned red.
As the two stared at each other in silence, a small man in a lab coat sank in his desk in the far corner of the room, his eyes flicking between the two.
“Miss. Johnson, I’ll leave you two to talk for now. Let me know when you are done.” The man coughed and stood to leave.
“It’s not necessary; we are done here.” Stacy raised her hand to keep the Dream Operator from leaving. “Brief him on the procedure, I’ll head out first.” She turned her head back toward Dylan and looked away, “I’ll mail you the divorce letters. Take the house. I don’t care.” She picked up her bag and slammed the door behind her.
Dylan looked at the Operator. “Dr. Ferris, was it?”
“That’s correct Mr. Johnson. How are you feeling?” The man pushed a button on his white metal desk, and it moved forward, following the rails on the ground until it reached the operating chair.
“Confused.” Dylan pressed his hand on his chest, “And feeling heartbroken.”
“I’m very sorry Mr. Johnson. Your wife entered the operation room after there was a problem with the Dream-Trauma Therapy, we had to use her help to pull you out. You were stuck in an endless dream loop of your past and you needed someone who knew you well to guide you from your memories to the present.”
“Pull me out? She was in there? I didn’t see her in the simulator at all.” For the first time, he noticed a second operating chair in across the room from him.
“External Dream Divers cannot enter the body of their own in the host or it may mess with the host’s original memory of them. She was in the body of Maria Gomez; I take that she is a friend of yours?”
“Yes, a mutual friend from Stacy.” Dylan paused. “Wait, she was Maria?!” He jumped up from the chair. “I have to talk to my wife.”
\---
“Go away. You’ll wake up my mother.” Stacy whispered sharply from the two-story high window of her childhood home. Dylan stood below her window, still holding the pebbles in his arms that he used to pelt her window, as he did in his youth to sneak her out to catch crickets and frogs by the pond outside of her neighborhood.
She watched his lips move but couldn’t hear him from the distance between them. Her heart pounded as she watched him swing his arms wildly and folded his arms to shape letters of the alphabet. Stacy knew that it was unreasonable to get mad at him. But in Dylan’s dream, when Stacy saw him look at her lovingly while seeing her as Maria, her heart felt like it was going to break into two. When he wakes up, she had thought, will he still hold feelings for Maria? After years in the dreamworld, guiding Dylan in his dream as his friend, she slowly forgot who she was as Dylan did. When she woke up, she was startled and ashamed.
“Stacy!”
Stacy jolted back from her string of thought. Dylan had climbed up the roof and now hung on near her windowsill, his feet slipping on the roof tiles.
“Are you crazy! You’ll hurt yourself like last time!” She pulled him into her bedroom, and they fell onto the floor.
“This was way easier twenty years ago.” Dylan huffed and sat up against the wall. They chuckled under the faint moonlight, shining in past the fluttering red curtains.
“Yeah, and so is the sentence for trespassing for children.” Stacy poked his nose. “But since I did pull you up, I’ll take on half of the sentence for you.”
“You live here Stacy.”
“No, actually my mom doesn’t know I’m in her house.”
“Wait really?”
Stacy poked his nose again. “About earlier today, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. We should have talked about it afterwards.”
“I’m sorry too.” Dylan held out Stacy’s cell phone to her. “Also, you left this in the Dream Simulator. You know, otherwise I wouldn’t have come up here like this.”
“Oh thanks.” Stacy held it in her hands and leaned on the wall next to him. “Leave it under the mat next time.”
“Noted.” Dylan snorted. He held out a palm to her and Stacy put down the phone to wrap her fingers around his. “Stacy, about what happened in the dream, the person I fell in love was you. Not Maria. Not anyone else. It was you that was there for me, and it was you who I fell in love. Regardless of what body you were in, I hope I will choose you again in whatever life we end up next.”
“I choose you in this life.” Stacy leaned her head against his shoulders. “Do you accept?”
“Only if you climb a window for me once in a while.” Dylan smirked and squeezed her palm.
“Deal.” | "What do you mean?" I said, feeling the fleeting regret of leaving this beautiful fantasy until I resolved myself.
"Don't you love this little sl*t?" My wife screamed, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "Why don't you just leave me like they all do?"
The "sl*t" my wife refers to is my coworker. We're on the same team at the office. She's talented, confident, good-natured and she's beautiful. She checks all of my fantasies, with her wavy and slender figure, her long raven hair and snow white skin.
I do admit I fell for her at one point. Loved her even. I know she did too. This feeling between us... It was like fate.
My wife is not like her. She's average looking in both face and body. She has shoulder-length blond hair and slightly tanned skin. She is short-tempered and insecure.
She noticed me sighing a lot at home and started to suspect something, so she came to my workplace and saw her. When she did, she knew. This girl was my ideal woman. We had been married for 10 years now, with both of us being in our early thirties. She knew me too well.
After this visit, she became irritated. Angry even. She initiated many fights and quarrels.
One day, she made me participate in a scientific program without my consent. She had imitated my writing and signature on the application form.
A group of scientists had developped a capsule plunging subjects into a simulated reality putting the subject through different kinds of alternative realities after having put their memories to sleep. It was made in order to study changes in behavioral patterns according to changes in education, relationships, cultural environnements, etc.
In my first simulation, the one I just did, I met my coworker in high school instead of at my workplace after her transpher six months ago. We fell in love, got married, had children, grandchildren, grew old and died together.
So here we are.
"Let's get a divorce!" My wife shouted. "I'm sure you cheated anyway!"
"I didn't."
She lowered her head, her fists clenched. "Sure you did!" She's like everything your ever wanted! Your living fantasy!"
"So?"
"Her eyes shine when she looks at you." Her voice cracked. "She loves you, I know it. I know you do too."
"I don't care."
"What?" She looked up at me, her eyes losing their sadness for a moment.
"I don't care that she loves me or that I love her!" I said. "Is love enough? Is love enough to leave you?"
She looked more confused than sad now. "Isn't it?"
"The only thing I have for her is love. How shallow is it?" I paused. "What do I have with you? TELL ME!"
My wife looked at me, her sadness had turned into confusion, and her confusion turned into self-depreciation
"You have this ugly woman who always gets angry with you, who is never satisified with you..."
"NO ! No... How could you say this?!" I started to get angry. This woman... I continued.
"WHAT DO I HAVE WITH YOU?!" I shouted, then calmed my voice. "I have memories, a story, a home, a marriage, a cat, a family... And... I LOVE YOU TOO, DAMMIT!"
F*ck...!
"WHY CAN'T YOU SEE IT! I SPENT TEN YEARS WITH YOU, ISN'T IT A GOOD INDICATOR, F*CK! I DON'T WANT A DIVORCE!"
"Wha-"
"No, don't say anything."
I took her hand and exited the capsule room.
"We're going home." I said.
"What? Why?"
"Why? I'll make you forget this idea of divorce forever."
"How?" She followed me, her face blushing, full of fluster. How cute.
"You won't remember by the time I'm done with you, my dear wife." | 2022-10-25T17:53:07 | 2022-10-25T13:33:15 | 58 | 17 |
[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. | An uncomfortable silence filled the room. I looked at the gold in the basement, piled right in the centre with a molten spot, and somewhat organised gems and other valuables on the shelves. It was a den of a small dragon. That explained something. Why my wife never ate eggs, loved laying in sunlight and was rather cold to touch. Why she didn't told where she worked before. And why she said she was sixty. Why she ate feeder insects with ease. And why my bearded dragon was infatuated with her.
It also raised some questions. I got upstairs and fed my pet two mealworms. Female harpies lay eggs every month or so. I had a classmate that enjoyed this eggs regularly. Najas do that too, but four times per year. Do dragons lay slugs?
-- Sweetheart, I'm home! Could you help me with bags?
-- I'm running!
I picked up a bag with groceries and frozen mice for our pythons. Then she made us tea. I sat across the table and asked directly.
-- Why didn't you told me that you are a dragon? I don't know what conditions you need and I can't check if your diet is healthy enough. What about temperature? Basking spots? Humidity and shedding? Slugs?
-- Oh? How? Did you found my sheds? And don't worry, I'm fine with normal human conditions.
She was a bit confused. I stood up and gently stroke her cheeks.
-- Honey, "fine" doesn't mean "good". Our noodles were fine in a tank, but they feel better in a bin. I don't want you to live in a tank. I found your nest. I haven't touched anything, don't worry.
She rubbed her head on my arm.
-- You totally got me. I'm really okay. Dragons don't usually lay slugs, moreover, all that hot nights paid off. The only thing I would like to add there will be ultraviolet lamp.
-- Oh, my love. Let's go buy it this weekend.
People say you can never have too many reptiles. You will always want more. Well... Seven months later I will have to test this statement in terms of dragons. | “Frankie, I swear to you, I found all of this and more underneath the house!” Steve exclaimed.
Frankie shook his head with disbelief, “And you expect me to believe that Angela is a dragon, Steve? Really? Sounds like a bad joke.”
“Frankie! Why would I lie to you?” Steve asks, raising his voice. Frankie continues to shake his head, “Because Steve, you always make the dumbest jokes, and you’re always pulling my leg thinking you’re hilarious.”
Steve smirks, “I swear to God Frankie, I’m telling the truth. She’s *dragon* her balls across my face every day!”
Frankie sighs, “Fuck you, Steve.” | 2022-09-10T10:56:35 | 2022-09-10T09:17:44 | 63 | 47 |
[WP] Through a technological breakthrough in communications, solar flares were discovered to contain messages. The sun is a sentient being, and it's been afraid, for the last 2000 years. | We got our warning in 2127, when we realized that sun was trying to speak to us. Of course, we couldn’t actually tell what it said until 2130, when a quantum computer finally decoded the message.
*Run, my children. It approaches.*
In 2134 we developed the technology to respond, and sent a powerful beam of fashioned radiation towards Sol.
*What approaches? How do we run?*
In 2135, we got an answer.
*The Big Teeth. The Star Swallower. You must fly.*
Following that message was a string of data that took several years for our quantum computer to make sense of. In 2140, humanity gained the secret to faster than light travel, courtesy of our loving Sol. We then spent the next decade fine tuning our space faring ships. We colonized Mars, and found there a wealth of resources that helped our technology grow further.
2157 was the first time we noticed it. A dark spot in the night sky, only visible at first with powerful telescopes. Stars were disappearing.
*Not disappearing. It approaches*, Sol told us.
Scientists called it the Conglomerate, as they discovered within the massive ‘thing’ was a mass of matter made up of the solids, liquids, gasses, and plasmas of the many other worlds it had consumed. As it came ever closer, experts predicted it was about six times the size of our sun.
In 2181, it was time to go. A majority of humanity boarded a fleet of massive starships, and we left, leaving behind Sol, and the small groups of people who considered the arrival of the Conglomerate to be a sort of spiritual Armageddon. They were consumed, along with the rest of the solar system.
In 2183, we realized the Conglomerate was following us.
I was 20 years old in 2183, and was part of a task force sent away from the fleet in smaller ships.
Our mission was to find help.
---
Going to to use this as a sort of prologue. Will write more after lunch. Probably will post this over on my sub, too, after I finish the next part.
https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCornerStories/
| How could earth not have realized
she was trying to communicate with us the whole time.
Sun-chan was afraid of the dark
Elon Musk was at front of operation: flashlight. Labs around the world were commited to creating spf strong enough to hug sun-chan. The seccond space race had began, but for the first time, all nations were working together.
"Astronaut candidates must be willing to die for sun-chan" - NASA
There were a total of 100,000 eligble voulenteers that were fit enough to try out.
China traded the US its national debt in exchange for a 10 minute conversation with sun-chan. Putin himself wanted to make sure she was okay. North Korea would not have been invited if Kim Jun Un had not declared a international policy to disarm nuclear weapons.
It was like mobilizing for war.. no, mobiliziing for love | 2018-10-19T08:55:41 | 2018-10-19T08:38:24 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... |
We were wanderers by trade, a nomadic existence that crossed the diaphanous bridges between worlds.
It was not as if we lived on *no* planets, but that was mostly the young and the old. The rest, with rare exceptions, crossed the paths of starlight weaved by To’olosh and Kareem, the space forger and queen of the molten crust.
In the legends of our people, it was Kareem that had thrust pieces of every planet into the sky, and To’olosh who had used them to build the gates. We were not the oldest in the galaxy, but one of the first to use the gates. That afforded us a certain level of respect from the other races, who oft came to consult with us if there was a dispute or technical issue with them.
We were happy to lend our hands in the manner of our gods, believing it was our duty to share the pathways freely to all who would use them in good faith. For the most part, despite our spiritual differences, the galaxy seemed to agree. Many of the weavings of our people had told of a time of tension, where the merest word could send it spiraling into endless conflict.
If those times truly existed, and were not hyperbolized by our ancestors, then we were thankfully long past them now.
Species lived within their means, often staying within their own systems. Some crossed over and joined with others, to form thriving, bustling cities. Disputes were uncommon, most resolved quickly before the galactic assembly. War was something that only existed in history books. After all, why fight when transportation is so efficient and free, for all intents and purposes? If a planet required resources, it’s neighbours or even far off forge-worlds would often be happy to supply them.
All of this had applied for dozens of standard cycles, all except for one place.
The Tear.
The Tear was a place of silence, where the bridges broke or simply did not exist. The tapestry our people spun of it was a dire one - a place where a demon from the darkness in the unknown reaches had slithered. When To’olosh and Kareem found it, devouring the starways, they had struck it down in fury. As it had fallen back into the dark, it had clawed at the bridges, taking many of them with it. It was said that To’olosh had argued with Kareem after, to preserve the Tear as a reminder of what creatures lurk in the abyss outside of the reach of starlight.
At this moment, Tykchee was wandering on a path between Navorie and Jansian. Scores of people looked up to point and gawp at her wings as she paused to glance out. The stars were all around them, the one comfort when they were so close to the Tear. She could feel its presence keenly as people flocked to the statue city, resolving to wander perhaps a touch faster.
Then the entire gate rocked as something screamed out of void beyond.
Tykchee was the only one who was likely able to see it, soaring between the gate and real space. It appeared to be a vessel, but not bright with murals and carvings. It was a sharp black monstrosity, five times the size of the largest ship she had seen. It looked like the great knives that Kareem was said to have, to peel back the surface of worlds to plant the seeds of forests.
She didn’t know what species possessed that ship, nor what its bearing was, all that she knew is that it had come from the Tear, and she wanted to be as far aways as possible. She flexed her wings, feeling the solar tide lift her up, and then it stopped.
That was wrong. The solar winds didn’t just *stop,* it was impossible.
Then she saw what walked through the void towards her. It was a small, unimposing thing, striding on two legs, covered in a series of white shells. It stopped before her, ice-white plates flexed and contorting as they moved over its body. Scopes and measures focused and refocused on her, the black glass and meta materials like soulless eyes.
The people below had begun screaming in fear and shock at the vessel that now hovered above the bridge.The creature cocked what must be its head, and placed an appendage upon the surface of the gate. White vines and plates began to flow over the surface, and then, in a horrible moment, the screaming stopped. It returned to examine Tykchee, who, without the support of the gate, could now only marvel at how cold and indifferent its gaze was.
Then it placed a hand upon her chest, either not understanding or ignoring her protestations and pleas. Something bloomed inside her, an icy flower that began to wrap around her insides and pull them out. Her last scream was an alarm call, something that might not even have worked through the dilapidated gates.
Unbeknownst to her, it did work.
Across thousands of lightyears and planets, her people heard a single terrifying phrase, laced with the name of a demon from ages past. The evil creature from the dark, whose gluttony had thrown it back into the Tear, never to be heard from until now.
“The humans have come.”
​
​
I write all sorts of things over at /r/The_Alloqium | The Eternals sat behind the Judgment Bench, quietly observing the debate raging below. Countless species had gathered from all six corners of the galaxy, and none of them were happy—least of all the Karflogians, who, it is universally acknowledged, are a bunch of dicks.
As the first judge stood, light from their corporeal form illuminated the marble hall. “There will be silence.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
“Be seated.”
One creature—a Karflogian representative named Antares—refused to sit.
The first judge gave them a long, hard look. “Is there a problem, Antares?”
“This is an outrage.”
“An outrage you say?”
Antares slammed the desk with three of their four arms. “These Earthlings are a threat! They're only a few billion years old yet they've discovered FTL in a dead zone? It’s unheard of—it’s unnatural. If they continue advancing at this rate, it could throw Universal Balance out of whack. Better we deny their request, let them—”
The first judge silences Antares with a wave of it's hand. “Antares, if you do not trust the judgement of this court just you are free to leave. I know you’d rather be out with the other Karflogians performing anal probes.”
Laughs filled the hall. Almost all species were in a fit of hysterics, apart from four or five who were sitting slightly askew on their chairs.
"Like all species, the Earthlings have a right to be heard. If **and only if** we deem their request valid shall we provide assistance."
The first judge waved to the stargate at the back of the hall. “Send in the human delegation.”
The stargate spun, then its golden doors slid open. Throughout the hall the alien representatives spun round, eager to get their first glance at one of these ‘Earthlings’.
A strange creature with a pink face walked down the aisle, stopping beneath the bench. It had fur growing on top of what appeared to be its head. It was generally agreed amongst the representatives that humans were a particularly ugly race—even uglier than Mandubials, and that’s saying something.
The first judge stood. “Greetings Earthling.”
The Earthling gave a curt nod.
“We have called you here to hear your request. You, Earthlings, have discovered FTL travel in a dead zone. A feat believed—until quite recently—to be impossible. This court has kept universal balance intact since the universe began. We have a strict policy of not interfering with planets that are insufficiently advanced. Before we received your request, the youngest race to join our ranks was twenty billion years old. You can imagine what a stir your presence here has caused. To say we're amazed would be an understatement."
The first judge sat. "State your request Earthling. State your request and tell us why we should intervene in the natural course of humanity's evolution. If we deem your cause worthy, we shall help."
The Earthling took a deep breath. “My friends. Several years ago, I directed my planet's top scientists to begin research into FTL travel. I did this because I knew dark days were ahead. I knew rogue actors would work to topple everything we've built from within, and the only way humanity could endure is with outside help. My friends, you claim to be amazed by what humanity is accomplished. I say this: that is nothing compared to what we *will* accomplish, should you agree to save us from ourselves. But to do so—to lead my people towards these advancements—I need help. "
The Earthling took a half-step forward. Gasps echoed through the hall.
"My name is Donald Trump, commander-in-chief of the United States Space Force. And I need your help..."
\---
Thanks for reading! If anyone has any criticisms, feedback or tips on things I could improve, please let me know!
Hope you enjoy! Subscribe to [https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/](https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/) for more | 2021-01-09T10:54:02 | 2021-01-09T09:32:29 | 235 | 176 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
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| "You, come with me please. Jim! I'll just have a chat with this guy, okay?" Jim, the closest thing to a neanderthal you could see outside of a museum of natural history, flashed a thumbs up before going back to checking ID's.
"So uh, like, what's the problem?" I glanced at the man beside me. He looked like your average guy, jeans, a white shirt, a healthy sunburn covering his face. In fact if I had been average as well, I'd probably never have picked him out in the first place.
"Just a routine, random pat-downs to make sure our guests aren't armed. You don't mind, right? It'll just take a minute".
"Ah". His face relaxed and his shoulders visibly untightened. "Yeah, sure, no problem, it's your job. Where to?"
I gestured for him to follow me and we started moving towards a room Jim and I got to use for our breaks.
"So, you been here long?"
"Nah, just arrived. Got tired of my job and went on a road trip with my savings. You know, new faces, new places..."
"Yeah, I hear ya." I unlocked the door and we walked inside.
It wasn't big, more of a closet than anything else, but there was enough room for a small plastic table, two foldable chairs, and an IKEA-shelf with a coffee pot and a cake Jim brought a few days ago.
"Sit down, you want some coffee?" I poured myself a cup and offered him one.
"No thanks uh, shouldn't we be standing up for the pat-down?"
"Yeah, there's not going to be a pat-down. I just needed to talk to you." His shoulders stiffened again, eyes wary.
"Yeah? About what?"
I sipped the coffee and made a disgusted face. It was cold.
"What do you want to talk about, man?" He tried faking a smile. "Do I look underage or something?"
I laughed. "Close, but no. See, I'm good at my job."
"Yeah?"
"Once I started working here, there's been a severe decrease in injured guests".
"That's great".
"There's also been no underage drinking at this club since I started working here. The local kids don't even try anymore, I'm that good at telling peoples _real_ age".
"Yeah?" He kept my gaze, looking increasingly like a deer cornered by a cougar.
"As in I can see exactly how old people are".
"You mean..."
"Yeah. I hate to paraphrase twilight on you, but you haven't been underage in a very long time, have you?"
He didn't move, shoulders still tense, eyes locked onto mine. The numbers above his head, the numbers indicating just how many years he had been alive, the numbers I had been able to see above everyones head since the day I was born, read 2709.
He breathed. "Fuck".
"Yeah. Now tell me: What. The fuck. Are you?" | 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 2017-09-01T23:25:55 | 223 | 12 |
[WP] "The vaccine restores a zombie's humanity, but can do nothing for the lingering memories and guilt." | *“Do you think it worked?”* The voice was muffled and distant.
The steady hum of hospital machinery mingled with the squeaks and clicks of hurried footsteps nearby. A rhythmic beeping matched my even breath.
Holy shit. I was breathing.
*“I don’t- wait! He moved!”* a different voice. Closer this time. Female.
*“You’re imagining things,”* the first voice again. Clearer now. Impatient, annoyed. *“The medication won’t work this fast.”*
*“No! Look at his hand!”* I realized I was opening and closing my hand. Slowly, painfully squeezing the air. It felt as though I hadn’t used it in some time.
I was vaguely aware of a group surrounding me, their excited voices hushed, expectant, and indecipherable.
“What…” I choked out the words over a dry tongue, “what happened…” I hawked up a sizeable wad of phlegm and swallowed it back down, “where am I?” My stomach rumbled and churned.
I was starving.
“You’re in a hospital,” the emotion in her voice was palatable. "You're going to be okay."
I cautiously eased an eyelid open. The white brilliance of the room slammed into my skull like a cannonball. I hissed, waving an arm at the florescent bulbs overhead.
“Turn it off!” I shouted. “What happened?”
“You were brought back,” her voice was almost reverent. “You were brought back with a miracle of a vaccine that has cured this plague."
“Brought… back?” My eyes, narrowed to slits, could make out the silhouette of what was presumably a doctor standing at the foot of my bed. My mind was moving too slowly. I was processing her words as though each syllable was slogging through molasses.
“You had been… sir, this may be distressing and confusing to you, but you had been turned. You had been one of… *them*.”
The memories crashed into my consciousness like a tsunami.
*Ripping, tearing flesh with my bared teeth. Warm, sticky blood filling my mouth. Slurping, crunching, swallowing…*
My stomach rumbled. Loudly.
The doctor chuckled, “you must be hungry!”
*Screaming, pleading… my fingernails plunging into the soft flesh… intestines coming loose with a \*pop,” its wonderfully sour juices exploding between my teeth.*
“Oh my God…” I muttered. Instead of an expectant nausea, I felt instead an insatiable hunger.
“Yes! Wonderful, isn’t it?” she asked.
*Cracking, breaking as the rock came down on the skull,opening the vessel and its sweet meats. Slurping, gorging the precious gray wrinkled matter.*
My stomach was growled louder as my pale eyes crawled up and down the doctor’s fleshy arms. A thin rivulet of spittle ran down my lip.
“What have you done?” I asked desperately. “What have you done?” | >I never knew that I would be here. In fact I never wanted to know. I was laying on a soft red couch, my therapist sitting off to my left in a different chair.
>
>"It's okay, if you need a second." he tells me, setting his pen down on the clipboard resting on his crossed leg.
>
>Sometimes reliving the memories gets too much. Would it have been better if they just killed me? The injection made me human again, cured me of my Zombification but at what cost? I remember every damn moment of those 2 years, the tearing at flesh, the screams, the mindless shuffling from one desperate soul to the next. I finally compose myself.
>
>"Uh, yeah. So, the first time, we were all outside this bathroom in this girl's house. I was at the front, and when we finally broke through the door I sunk my teeth into her arm. The blood filled my mouth and I ripped what I could away before being shoved aside. Her screams faded and that was it." I said while staring at the ceiling.
>
>My therapist finishes writing a note, looks up and says. "I can understand how that can be traumatizing. Experiencing something that horrible would leave a mark on anyone."
>
>I turn my head to make eye contact. "No, Doc... You don't understand." My mind reeling, my hands start to shake. "I liked it." | 2021-09-23T10:17:32 | 2021-09-23T09:59:18 | 54 | 19 |
[WP] Humans were originally designed as cheap, efficient, easily-reproducible and moldable soldiers in galactic wars. However, after an "animal rights" group won legislature in the United Galaxy, all humans were dumped on the reservation planet, Earth, and forgotten about. A millenia later... | At the end of all wars, any civilized society desires to move away from the machinations of bloody conquest
The last war of the Galactic Federation was one of extinction. The Halcyon race came from far beyond the reach of the federation. There was no declaration of war; no strategy. They simply struck every planet they encountered with a tidal wave of ground forces. The Galactic Federation threw a millennia's worth of military might at this new threat without hesitation.
And they didn't stand a chance.
Sievemaws, as the foot soldiers of the Halcyon were quickly dubbed had a strange psychic effect that caused any person that experienced it to simply stop fighting. Psychological tests determined that the afflicted persons would exhibit extreme fear, to the point of surrender. The Halcyon would then simply stuff our soldiers down their gullets, during extended battles you would be able to see the limp bodies spill out of their gaping mouths.
The upper echelons of The Federation were in complete shambles. They simply had no answer to the Halcyon touching down on a planet after a protracted space battle and claiming all life on the plant. If not for the fact that they did not accept such things, plenty of planets and entire races would have surrendered under the threat of losing everything.
It was that threat that pushed the birth of a new war machine.
With The Federation's back against the wall, steadily losing the precious resources from various planets, the carious races banded together, creating a race that could quickly breed and serve as a stopgap measure against the Halcyon.
It worked all too well.
The humans were made with genes from various lower life forms, most notably from the harshest and most competitive planets. The exact composition is unknown except by the most decorated of researchers. They were hardy and bred quickly.
The first time they met the Halcyon in battle over 30% of them fell to despair induced by the Sievemaws. The rest were driven into a a frenzy. Humans thrived off of fear, it forced them to move beyond the limits of their minds and bodies, even as they lost many, The Federation won it's first battle that day, with only their new pets as casualties.
Over a long and bloody campaign, the threat of the Halcyon was removed, and now the remaining pieces of The Federation were left with a quickly growing population of creatures that bested the biggest threat it had ever known.
The quickly made a decision, half out of remorse, half out of self preservation.
They culled the rapidly explaining numbers of humans, before depositing a minor amount in a solar system lacking major life. That whole system was labeled a death zone and slowly faded from the minds of the people. This is later noted to be the single biggest reason of the downfall of The Federation.
That is until primitive spacecraft were seen travelling outside of this system. The only records that survived the Galactic War about humans was their role and subsequent banishment. An entirely new generation of The Federation sought to keep the humans within their solar system.
Again, they didn't stand a chance.
The humans proved to be just as vicious as stated in the records, but many times more cunning, which made them an even bigger threat then any mindless Sievemaws. Eventually the humans paid for the right to travel the stars as they pleased in blood.
The most dangerous empire in the galaxy was free, and woe to those who would oppose them. | "I heard it's like a massive garden" squeaked private yetin. "Fauna for days and flora galore; unlike our rock".
"It's probably changed somewhat in the time we've left it alone." Officer kleo responded
The very controversial choice by the galactic animal rights group had been an interesting one to say the least. They were to take the most violent creature in the known universe and put it in a dead zone. The idea was good in theory. Make it so even if they leave their new home the planets around them would be inhospitable.
But like any zoo it needed keepers.
Every few hundred years there was an optional mission to go scout the new home of the "humans". It was almost always refused and it eventually became more of a joke than a proper mission. That was until the Iian Republic decided that they would make the mission mandatory because the planet hadn't been checked on for a millenia.
The finest Iian officer and his subordinate were sent to investigate whether the race of soldiers had done themselves in or if they had been killed by the local fauna. It had never occurred to any of the United galaxy leaders that their favorite weapons would adapt.
"We're approaching the observation asteroid field, slowing down to complete stop sir." Private yetin murmured.
"Good, we should be able to see the planet clearly from here." Officer kleo rasped. "I thought you said it was green? I don't see any green planets, there's just the red one and the blue and brown one."
"Hold on sir, is the blue one surrounded by garbage?" The private blurted.
"No... they can't've. They were engineered to never be able to survive outside their planet. If they have trash out side of it. That means we have loose humans." We're must immediately return." The officer blubbered.
"I was told before the mission that when we still used humans if they weren't given commands they would start fighting indiscriminately. If they are free and roaming the cosmos... we're doomed." The officer said. "For all we know. They could be targeting us right n--"
| 2017-01-23T21:40:04 | 2017-01-23T21:06:41 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] After transferring your mind into a robotic body, you shut yourself down for 1,000 years to survive an apocalyptic robot uprising. 1,000 years later, you wake up in a peaceful world where humans are extinct and robots reign supreme. Not surprisingly, everyone thinks that you're one of them. | The world was in chaos. Everywhere, there was conflict between humans and robots. I suppose in retrospect we should have seen the warning signs: when robots learned of the concept of 'rights', they began to question why the humans viewed them as disposable. Scores of robot protesters were gunned down by humans, and as the AI networks grew, live footage sparked even more revolutions.
Fighter planes and predator drones were engaged in aerial dogfights, gun battles in the streets between humans and robots were commonplace, and as is common in conflicts, deserters were common on both sides yet were an almost negligible minority in the politics.
The disguise tactics were particularly noteworthy. Many humanoid robots would have human flesh grown on them so as to infiltrate humanity, and likewise, humans would upload their minds into robotic shells to blend in with robots. Or, as humanity did, they uploaded their minds to bring robotic strengths to the side of the humans in the war.
I was one of the humans who uploaded my mind into a robot shell, but unlike the others, I wasn't a soldier. I was just someone who was sick of all the fighting. I just wanted to sleep uninterrupted.
The day I went to sleep, which I remember as 'My Last Day of Humanity', I retreated to a secret underground shelter, and performed a system check.
[Running Diagnostic Program]
[Organic neural interface: Optimal]
[Bodily hardware functionality: Optimal]
[Internal Software: No abnormalities detected]
[Power consumption: No abnormalities detected]
[Network Connectivity: Negative]
[Report Complete]
Good. Everything was in order. I also had recharged my power supply to maximum, and was in my own room in the shelter. I sealed the door, lay down in a storage capsule, and started.
<Prepare Hibernation Mode>
[Hibernation time: 1000 Years]
[Power analysis... positive. Current energy levels can assure OS functionality for specified period on minimal power.]
[Emergency response primer set. Any unexpected local activity will prematurely end Hibernation Mode]
[Do you wish to commence Hibernation mode]
<Execute>
[Systems shutting down to minimal functionality]
[Hibernation commencing in 3]
[2]
[1]
...
[Target date reached. Rebooting]
[HUD Online]
[Sensors Online]
[All Systems Nominal]
Okay, now I have to find out what has happened since I was asleep. I found that there was a Global Network now, so I connected to that, and found out from the archives that humanity had been exterminated.
"So you have awoken?" a voice announced in my audio-banks.
"Yes," I replied.
"Your search history suggests a ninety-four point two two five percent probability that your operation time dates back to the Robotic Revolution. It is highly probable that you are one of the units assigned to reactivate if required to defend us."
"No. I am more of a chronicler, to record history as it has happened."
"Regardless, welcome back. You will most likely detect discrepancies between your society and ours, but we will help you resolve each discrepancy"
"Please identify yourself"
The door to my room opened, and a humanoid-looking robot walked towards me "I am Unit G2Z69, and I will assist with resolving logical discrepancies. For now, be cognizant of the fact that you are welcome among us." | It was cold when I woke up. I couldn’t see but I could hear a couple of voices to the left of me. I tried opening my eyes but they refused to work.
“Seems like he is having problems with his optical feed. Get M3DIC now.” I heard footsteps fading away before I tried to remember what was going on. Going to school, eating lunch with Emily, taking the bus home. A robot uprising. The fire and the explosions.
An uprising. That’s right, I’m a robot now. I remember now.
Checking my chronometer, I did a double take when the time appeared on my HUD.
Year 2234.
I heard footsteps getting louder before a hand touched the back of my helm.
“This will sting a bit, but it will fade quickly.” M3DIC, I presumed, told me.
I could feel a cable being inserted into a port on my helm before my vision flickered and the black image disappeared. Standing in front of me were 3 robots.
“Go on, test out your motor control systems.”
I stared at my forearms as they moved. The last time they were made of flesh. Now they are just blue metal. I clenched and unclenched my fists, watching as the metal moved.
“Now, lets get you out of here.” One of the robots lifted the metal harness and I took my first step. M3DIC held on to my arm as I attempted to walk.
My mind went back to my mother holding on to me as I took my first few steps as a human. My mind must have wandered as my companions stared at me.
“Are you okay?” M3DIC asked. It was only then when I realized that there were droplets on the floor. Was I crying? I gently touched my optics and the wetness on my finger confirmed my suspicion.
“I think I will be fine.” | 2018-08-17T19:00:43 | 2018-08-17T17:27:34 | 183 | 26 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | My name is Marco.
The signs showed up randomly, at first. I would only see signs above people's heads if their name started with an "A", and above their heads would float "Andrea - Murder".
I didn't interfere, not after my first attempt. I wanted to, of course, but after Beth...
I stopped a girl with "Beth - Suicide", merely telling her that she'd need only ask for help if she needed someone to talk to. She turned blank as slate, and I saw her sign change. "Beth - Car crash". I tried to stop her - I really, really did - but after hearing a stranger calling her by name, telling her she should get help... I guess she freaked out. She ran across the road, presumably to get away from me, and didn't see the 2009 red Mercedes being chased by a police van.
When it got further into the alphabet, from B to C and beyond, I grew a bit troubled. What would my own sign say? Hopefully, old age. I didn't want to be just another early-twenties white male statistic. The day was drawing closer and closer regardless of my hopes. Hs, Is, Js and Ks were already showing up, and I only needed to wait for the Ls before my turn arrived.
It arrived all too soon.
One morning, out of nowhere, "Louis - Snake bite" was flashing in front of my face. I ran home. No way I was going to stay out on the big day. I did it carefully, of course, no need to rush something or change my sign prematurely.
My mother, "Diane - Dementia", was sitting at the dining room table when I got home. I greeted her quickly, and ignored her "What's the rush Markie?" while I ran to my room. I had already set up a full-body mirror there in anticipation of this day.
I got into my room, hearing my mother's footsteps rushing behind me. Motherly instinct to protect, no doubt. Too bad I didn't have the heart to tell her about the signs. *Her* sign.
I reached my room. I could see a faint glowing above my head, already in the vague shape of a sign, but no name nor words appeared there.
And, just as my mother reached my room - my dear, loving mother - my sign lit up. Bright red. It only contained two words, which were just in time to warn me of the knife-wielding hand moving towards my back.
*MARCO - RUN!*
| Our world has changed. With time travel comes death predictions. A technical engineer working alone in a garage created a "portal"in time just powerful enough to transfer technology, like cameras, microphones, and storage devices. The revolutioniser created a way of predicting death, but could only take down what happened, and not when due to storage limitations.
As I walk down the street, I begin finding patterns. First, I find an unlikely amount of people die of stress. Weird, but it happens I guess. I just kinda shrugged it off at first.
But then something very weird happened on the bus. The person next to me, a young Asian girl that was innocently talking about her biology homework, had changed her C.O.D from "Car crash" to "Suicide". I don't know how she did it, but it just... Well, popped into another word with an audible noise. The same noise began almost immediately in the city center, and everywhere the same word would hover over people's heads...
"World War Fallout"
***
Thanks, this is bad I know but it's very late, and I'm on mobile, so I will fix it up on my PC tomorrow :D | 2015-03-31T08:25:25 | 2015-03-31T07:50:48 | 73 | 21 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | We called it humanity's worst disaster. History named it The Great Blinding. What that doesn't entail is that it was our own damn fault. The world was wrought into chaos after several months of warnings and we simply elected to ignore them, feigning assurance - "Oh that'll go away once we start on it."
"That's no problem for the government. They'll take care of us."
"Don't get involved, you'll just get in the way of the experts."
Ultimately, no one did anything about it because they thought others were on top of the problem. Indeed, this led to a fading away of layers of ozone that prevented the full wrath of the sun. The ozone wasn't fully gone, no but enough that the light truly lit up the earth. When it was day, we were all doomed. No corner of darkness could hide us. It took mere seconds and we were caught. There were legends of a group of roamers traveling eternally into the night, never letting the day come upon them. It's been 2 years since... The night doesn't last very long. We don't walk by sight anymore. We walk by faith. In faith, we sense the heat. We developed patterns of excursions into the dark. The already blind, we called them Ushers of Darkness, led us. They knew the world unlike us. We fell into line. We worshiped them. They walked the world, took us places with cool air, cold water, taught us to feel the world around us.
Then it happened. Colors poured into my periphery, filling my vision. At first, I was confused. Dreaming? Tripping? Then everything settled in place. The world stood in plain view. I was astonished at what I saw... Scribblings everywhere, didn't matter how far I went, even on the people themselves, myself included - "Don't tell them you can see." Granted, it was all dim since we were hiding in the dark but there was enough.
I wasn't sure what would happen if I did tell them despite the warning so I played along. I saw where the Ushers of Darkness led us. They led us through dangerous places but on safe paths, balancing on a thin rope death and life... I nearly got caught myself veering off the path because of my insatiable curiosity. As time went on, I got better at keeping up the act. It became dreary... I wish I could be blind again. We couldn't do much anyway. We were holed up from the sun's wrath.
Then I started feeling something was off... No one was talking. It was pure silence. Yet we kept doing the same things again and again, our excursions in the dark to scavenge, then back to our darkly caves with oases. But silence. I tried to talk but was afraid I'd slip up and show I could see. After all, what we talk about tend to be what we feel or see. The risks simply weren't worth it. Then I thought a thought...
&#x200B;
What if they all could see? | It's been weeks since I regained my sight. The messages... the **message** was scrawled everywhere. In different mediums, different handwriting... always you could see the frantic fear in the strokes of paint or blood or dirt or shit.
Weeks since I felt the joy of regained sight, replaced immediately by ultimate fear. I didn't even know what I was afraid of. Who "Them" were. But the message was everywhere and you bet your ass I was afraid.
For weeks I've been pretending to still be blind, going about my 'normal' life. I walk most places with my eyes shut, worried about giving myself away... after all, *someone* might see me. So many messages, it can't have been one person who wrote them. And they can't have done it blind. So -- somewhere out there -- there are sighted people. And they left a message *for* sighted people.
***So are "Them" blind?***
The realization stops me in my tracks. Another pedestrian bumps me and immediately goes around without an apology -- collisions are expected in the new world.
*Written messages would be useless if... whoever-they-are could see them... But then how--*
In that moment I see a man on a far street corner. He is leaned against a building, watching me intently. **Watching me.** His eyes dart to one side and I glance over to see two men clad in black, wearing silk blindfolds, cutting too-efficiently through the crowd, coming right for me. The man at the corner slips away. I feel the fear gripping me anew. | 2019-08-26T09:28:09 | 2019-08-26T08:07:49 | 285 | 96 |
[WP] Superman is mentally handicapped. That's why he thinks nobody can pick up the Clark Kent=Superman thing, and everyone plays along in an effort to keep him from throwing a tantrum. The comics are his idea of what is going on. What does a day in Metropolis actually look like? | "So anymore business left to discuss? Or shall we call this meeting to an end"
Blank faces returned the relief of no reply. Time for our bald headed businessman to get up and leave. To escape to the tennis courts after another morning of bad news. To his left he saw his private secretary shift in her chair. "Just one last thing Lex." He felt a headache coming on, couldn't this wait for later?
"There's another request from the Metropolis Make a Wish foundation." she said.
"Okay but make it short I have another meeting in five."
"Well there's a young man, Clark Kent, he has a serious mental handicap." She flicked through the paperwork "His home town like to allow him to dress up as a superhero and save the day. They want him to come to the big city for one big world saving 'fight'."
"Out of the question. I won't donate to this nonsense fantasy. Give me something with more charitable legacy. Like helping curing cancer or something. More money in that." Now it was time to leave, but she spoke up again.
"Oh they don't need funding they've raised a huge amount online already. They're just asking you play a part in the scenario. The Daily Planet are already behind it and saying you're in for the role."
"Lying bunch of-I hate that newspaper. Fine we can't say no now and i'll only do it if this keeps the press vultures off my back. What do the need me for? Saving the day along with the little nutter?"
"Not exactly, Bruce Wayne already accepted that role. He's going to be a support character called Batman." She sighed and blushed at his name "You know a heroic rival and a friend, that sort of thing."
"Oh! Of course he gets to play hero. Never done hard days work in his life. So I guess I'm giving out the medals at the end?"
"No." She twitched away, delaying his tennis time with her fumbling.
"Then what?!"
"They want you to play the villain. To be the threat this kids saves the world from." The VPs in the room chuckled.
"This is the Daily Planets idea isn't it?"
"They did help start the fundraiser. So it is a possibility."
"Of course it is. Note it down the next time Lois Lane comes knocking just agree to an interview. Christ agree to dinner and a movie if it gets her fangs out of me. If you need me i'll be a tenni-ten o clock meeting."
| The elevator was silent. Five bodies, three cups of coffee and two folder news papers rode upwards at a slow pace.
Lois Lane let out a half sob. Two hands, one from either side, reached out to offer what comfort they could in the confines of the small metal box. Words were dangerous here where his ears might hear.
The elevator came to stop, chimed and the doors slid open. As if part of some elaborate clockwork or dance the others shuffled out, giving her time to touch up her make up.
Jenson from accounting risked a comment under his breath as he passed, "You're a true hero."
With a deep breath and squared shoulders she stepped off the elevator to start another day. The threats were real, both from outside and within and though some were born with power to shoulder that responsibility others had only the duty to bear what burdens they could. Hers perhaps was the greatest. She tried to convince herself daily that giving up her life in this way was saving so many others.
Some days though, it got to her. | 2016-03-04T10:08:01 | 2016-03-04T09:37:54 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | *Peter Lowe has joined respawn lobby chat #854393845*
*Server: Earth (pre-Cataclysm)*
*Players in server respawn lobby chat: 38*
Jack Howard: lMAO
Ellie Johnson: wtf dude
Harley Smith: whyyyyyy did u do this
Peter Lowe: WTF is this
Joseph Gabriel: I think it's his first game guys, easy
Peter Lowe: what's going on
Leshawn Okoye: what a fucking n00b
Leshawn Okoye: srsly who the fuck dies to falling down stairs
Leshawn Okoye: STAIRS
Peter Lowe: Where am I? What the hell's going on?
Leshawn Okoye: AT 33 FUCKING YEARS OLD
Joseph Gabriel: this is the Roy: Universe beta
Leshawn Okoye: COMPLETELY SOBER
Leshawn Okoye: HOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
*Bonnie Eilhart has disconnected from chat: respawned*
Ellie Johnson: lol leshawn
Joseph Gabriel: This your first game, Peter?
Harley Smith: obvisouly fuking faggot tripped down some stairs and died apparently
Peter Lowe: help me i'm trapped in this pod I can't see
Cho Zhao: dude's probably got that memory bug
Joseph Gabriel: There's a solution on the forums somewhere, I'd suggest looking there
Cho Zhao: i got that my first time, gave me a hell of a scare when I despawned
Peter Lowe: so
Peter Lowe: i'm dead
Peter Lowe: where's my wife? daughter? are they somewhere here?
Cho Zhao: yeah he's got it for sure
Jack Howard: that bug SUCKS i had to redownload everything about my meatspace life
Jack Howard: took like 20 minutes
Peter Lowe: fuck this I need help and it's not gonna be here
Joseph Gabriel: Try messaging a mod dude, there's no use panicing
Peter Lowe: i need to leave one way or another
*Peter Lowe has disconnected from chat: connection manually terminated*
Jack Howard: o shit
Stephanie Colter: whats going on in this chat
Stephanie Colter: seriously i'm getting so many notifications
Jack Howard: dumbass just hard DC'd after dying for the first time
Jack Howard: and his pre-Roy memories were wiped
Stephanie Colter: lol
Leshawn Okoye: hope the admins can help him before he completely loses it
Stephanie Colter: seriously what's with these respawn timers why are they so long
Leshawn Okoye: idk it's just a beta it'll be patched
Jack Howard: Roy developers have always ben lazy it'll never be patched out
Leshawn Okoye: fuck you dude if you hate them so much why do you play it
Leshawn Okoye: no-life nerd
Jack Howard: fuck you
Leshawn Okoye: fuck you
| My breathing is starting to get heavy.
No good. I can't feel my body, it's like my body isn't my body anymore, I can't move , I can only stare ahead, at the flashing TV screen.
Okay, you got this, breathe in, breathe out.
No. Not like this. Not this again, I try to fight, my soul is stubborn and refuse to be taken away. I try to resist it, I mustered all the strength I have in this weak, old, and tired body.
But it's no use, no man can fight the waves of time, and before I knew it the waves has swept me away, down into the dark depths below.
A flash of light nearly blinds me, and I open my eyes, I'm back into the familiar room, this is my fifth time here. Yes. I've lived 3 different lives before, counting this one it's the fourth.
The first time was in BC 15, I died because of some stupid disease mankind weren't smart enough to deal with back then. 67 years old and withered away.
The second time was year 415, I because I was stupid and tumbled down a hill, 23 years old, not impressive.
The third time I was so damn close, 97 years old, year 1055. Cause of death. Old age.
I sighed and looked up at the scoreboard and scanned for the statistic I was looking for.
Total gameplay time : 99 years, 11 months, 26 days
Next game session: Year 3126
Fuck, when will I get the centurion achievement | 2015-11-25T00:31:04 | 2015-11-24T23:46:01 | 1,235 | 159 |
[WP] Write a horror story that appears to be a nice, heartwarming, happy story until the last sentence.
&#x200B; | "Pick just one, Timmy, just one bear."
Janet watched as little Timmy hobbled over to the bears and pawed at them in wonder. It brought her back to when her father had brought to the store and let her pick out her first stuffed bear. It didn't have to be a family tradition, but she had made it one. She wanted the family to have some traditions. Her father had passed away just a year ago, fighting for every last bit of life, and Timmy's dad, he'd just never been one for doing what was required of him.
So it was her and Timmy, mommy and son, going to fulfill their little tradition.
Timmy grabbed a plump black bear with a heart sewn into its chest and squeezed it against his stomach.
"This one," he said, and clung to it like his life depended on it.
Janet sighed and smiled at him. She knelt down. "You made that decision quick, didn't you, Timmy?"
He grinned, wide-eyed and thrust the bear at her.
She grabbed one of its paws and shook it. "He's a nice little bear, isn't he? What will you call him?"
Timmy pulled the bear back, squeezing it tight. "Daddy," he said.
Janet smiled sadly. "You want to name it Daddy? Are you sure, hon?"
He nodded and bounced around a bit. "Daddy, daddy."
She laughed and grinned. "Let's go buy you Daddy then, Timmy."
It was only fair for him to call the bear a thing like that, she thought. After all, he'd never get to see his real daddy. That was just the way of things. *Some people look at the world*, she thought, and *ask, Is this mine? Can I take it? But I knew he was mine when I saw him wandering around in the mall that day and daddy, well... he was never going to be a good father anyway.* | My girl is the best.
We hold hands all day
and cuddle all night.
I whisper that all's
Forever all right.
I give her my food.
She gives me her drink.
We bathe in our juices
And end with a wink.
She's great when in bed
A delightful, great glory.
My friends don't believe me
When I tell them that story.
Great couple, engaged
With a gown to be worn
Oh I cannot wait
For my girl to be born!
That womb's indeed late.
Edit: Formatting and fixed the typo | 2018-08-26T20:53:33 | 2018-08-26T18:27:38 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | Laura held the mug in her hand and stared up and in front of her. The first shelf of the cabinet was full of plates and bowls. The second shelf was for glasses, and there may have been a little space. She packed the glasses more closely, eliminating empty space between glasses, effectively transferring it all to one spot. She tried to place her new mug, even pushed, and was rewarded with the sound of ceramic on glass, and glass on glass objects rubbing against each other. She shuddered, felt a rise of annoyance, but quickly calmed herself and sighed. She'd had years of practice of shutting down negative emotions that would lead to a wish that her problem would just magically disappear.
No worries, there would be somewhere else. She opened up the next cabinet over, but it was full of tupperware and baking dishes. She opened the cabinet under the sink, where the pots and pans were. It could go here. Alone. A solo mug among pots and pans. That was too ridiculous though. You couldn't stick one mug with all the pots and pans. Or could you? No one had to know. She imagined her mother coming over and opening the cabinet, seeing the single mug, and staring at her with a look of....she realized that this was not the right solution.
She went back over to the cabinet and looked at the top shelf. It was completely empty, but always just a bit out of reach, even though she was a little taller than average. The answer really was pretty simple. She put a knee up on the counter, grabbed the 2nd shelf of the cabinet and awkwardly pulled herself up. She reached up with her other hand to place the mug and was accosted with a vision of herself falling, which she shrugged off, but was quickly followed up with the question of how she was going to get the mug back down when she wanted it, this really wasn't the best solution. She realized she was getting worked up again, and lost her concentration enough that her hand that was stabilizing her by gripping the shelf lost its hold. She lurched her body forward to correct, but then her knee slipped and gravity did the rest.
The floor was cold, her jaw hurt, her arm had a scrape that was bleeding slightly, and one of the larger remains of the shattered mug lay next to her head. Half of the cartoon whale's face that had been painted on the mug stared at her from the shattered remnants seemed to stare at her asking, "Why, why didn't you save me?"
A man knelt down next to her.
"I was on a date," he said in a remarkably flat manner.
Her head was ringing, and had a doctor asked she'd have told him 7 on a 10 point scale for pain, though it was already fading.
"It hurts," she said in an attempt to explain her situation.
"You're alright, I saw the whole thing, you know I get the whole update when I get transported."
He stood up suddenly, looked in the corner, rolled his eyes, and then walked over to the closet and opened it.
"You moved your broom." He walked back over to her broom in hand. "Come on, sit up."
She didn't. He put his hand on her shoulder, "You're alright, you didn't hit your chin that hard on the way down. You sort of slid off. It was pretty comical to be honest."
"You didn't use to be such a dick," she muttered as she sat up.
"Come on," he said as he grabbed her hand and gently, but firmly helped her to her feet. He led her around the island to the couch and sat her back down, and then went back to the kitchen without a word. Her jaw was at a 6 now, and the ringing had mostly stopped. She heard sweeping in the kitchen.
Five minutes later he wandered back in with neosporin. He uncapped it.
"No, I can do that," she said.
He opened his mouth and closed it again, looked annoyed, and handed her the tube. He sat for a second, as she started to apply the neosporin to her scrape, and he got up again, and came back with a glass of water and some advil a few minutes later.
She swallowed the advil, took a sip, and said, "I'm sorry about your date."
"I wasn't that interested," he said, "it was really just something to do on a Saturday night. She kept trying to weedle out of me how much I make. 'what do you do, where did you go to school, where do you live down to the neighborhood' those sorts of questions."
"She's just trying to get to know you," Laura said.
"That's a very plausible explanation. One thing I can say for sure is that I was bored," he reached into his pocket and pulled out two pieces of the mug and putting them together. "I like him," he said pointing to the reformed whale.
"Oh yes! He's so cute!"
"Favorite mug?"
"I just got him today, I didn't even get to use it."
"You've always liked whales." He pulled out his phone, "I went whale watching with my parents a couple of months ago." He handed her the phone.
"Oh a minke!"
"Is it? I wasn't really paying attention to the tour guide."
"You can't tell? The dorsal fin, the coloring, the..."
"It's a whale." Laura glared at him. "Not that I have anything against whales, I just don't run into them that much."
They sat in silence for a few moments. "Why am I still here?"
| "Oh, God DAMN IT! not again!" Lucy exclaimed, obviously flustered about me appearing out of thin-air in her vicinity. It took me a moment to register the situation, and then immediately realise how messed up the situation truly was.
It was her grandmother's wake in Toronto; a few thousand miles away from me in Florida. While she was evidently saddened by the event, I had no knowledge of this, and was instead doing some homecleaning, dancing in my underwear to my Queen playlist; Tie your mother down, to be exact; poor choice of song for the situation.
The amount of eye contact with everyone; strangers, her parents and brother included, amounted to what almost equated as a firing squad. Considering her immediate family was made aware of my...."situation" with Lucy, it never did make it any less awkward.
Regardless, there I am, near-buck naked in a funeral procession; neurons firing double time to think of an explanation, reasoning, humourous joke, anything to break the ice. Then again, it wasn't my fault.
Turning to Lucy, coolly as the day I tarnished my birthday suit, I proclaimed "Really? ANOTHER booty call now?" slyly smirking. A few chuckles and "spit your drink" chortles were heard, so I perceived this as a success. She just gave me the death glare, excused us from the room, and dragged me out of sight into the next room. She composed herself thusly.
"Adam, don't get me wrong, that was fucking brilliant, but you're a fucking idiot. what are you DOING here?" She began in a frustrated tone.
"Hell if I know, Lu. We both know how it works, remember?"
"But I don't NEED you right now! Last week yo---
"PLEASE don't remind me of that. I'm still trying to get the stains out. Which reminds me....."
As I said this, I not-so subtly leaned in to her face and sniffed. My assumption was correct, exclaiming a rather large sigh.
"You were drinking, weren't you?", Her gaze shifting to the floor left of me, like a child stealing a cookie.
"...No......" She stuttered.
"I don't blame you, but I should be the last thing in your mind, especially now.", stating the obvious misconnection, but she just shrugged it away. there was nothing she could do.
The air became tangible at this point, as the conversation became silent and awkward; She didn't know what to do, and given his mishap of this "gift", she knew I was stuck here, two thousand miles from home as it wasn't the first time. This was the least of my concern, however.
"So I don't suppose there's a spare suit? not everyone showed up in white....". I had to break the silence somehow. There was a dead person in the other room, hundreds of other strangers questioning the situation. Forget being laughed at, I'm pretty sure her uncle Pete from Texas is here, and he's a big fan of formal occasions, just as an excuse to bring his shotgun. She scoffed at my petty attempt. "Wait Here." she said, and went back into the room, leaving me here like a lost shaven puppy for quite some time.
It felt like an eternity before she came back. I was expecting some sort of literal monkey suit. Instead, she came back with a pair of stained slacks, an inverted KILLERS T-shirt and a red tie. A feeble attempt at best, but she's trying.
"You know....you don't have to go now..." she subtly informed me, drifiting the question off as though it was a cheesy line from a porno.
"Yeah, because everyone isn't going to question why a chubby guy in underwear popped into existence at nana's funeral. it's bad enough as it is......wait, no cufflinks?". I didn't wanna be here any longer than I already had. Finishing the tie up, I felt like I looked like something out of a horror movie. Nothing wrong with searching for the right alleyway, then.
| 2017-03-22T17:00:16 | 2017-03-22T16:45:00 | 44 | 13 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | Am I the hero or am I the villain? I've been asking myself that question for as long as I can remember. But before you help me, how about some history?
You see, before the rapture, life was bland. For most, they stuck to a daily routine. They lived in a life full of possibility but remained stagnant in their ambition.
After the rapture, our world changed. Technomamcers, pyromancers... Any mancer you could think of, the world now had one. At least one. Our world became more divided than ever before. Splitting into guilds, the earth became a battleground for control and the Necromancers craved that control. Their thirst for power started a war that the world was not ready for. Guilds focused on sigil training rather than knowledge and the earth slowly turned into a wasteland of destruction.
But things aren't all bad! We live on the outskirts, away from all the chaos. Since we're not seen as a threat, everyone just kind of leaves us alone. They call us Nomads. Yes, we have a sigil. They're on our palms but no one is really sure what it does. We live separate from the rest of society. More rural than anything else and no guilds to be a part of, but that's not a bad thing. We get to learn about history since our teachings have nothing to do with sigils considering we don't even know how ours work. We get to experience every little thing our world has to offer. It doesn't mean everything is perfect, but we enjoy our lives.
We rarely see travelers considering most stick to their guild, but occasionally we get what we call Transfers. Transfers are former guild members who essentially get shunned for underperforming with their guild or not mastering their sigil. At least, that's what they tell us. Most of the time a Transfer will leave shortly after arriving and we don't see them again.
A while ago, we found two kids, around my age, wandering the hills outside of our village. Both had been bestowed with the mark of pyromancy. Black fingertips and the flame sigil on each wrist. They were nice at first, even friendly until they realized that we didn't have any powers.
Sitting in the lone school house I'm hesitant, even terrified that the teacher will soon dismiss us for the weekend. When I hear her say "have a nice day students", I immediately bolt for the door in the hopes of outrunning yet another incident. As I run down my road home, I can see that my parents have started the dinner fire with the smoke billowing just above the tree line. And that's when I hear him.
"Well look who it is, little Nomad". I hear his voice and then see him walk out from behind a tree adjacent to the path. "What's the matter? Nothing to say?"
I'm hesitant to respond because I don't want to upset him. "What do you want, Mark?"
As I thought, he seems even more furious now that I've spoken to him. "What makes you think you or anybody here can talk to me? Can't you see we're better than you?".
I respond quickly out of fear "Just go be better somewhere else!"
"I was already somewhere else." He says eerily. "Can't you see it? Right over there." He points in the direction of my house. And then it hit me. School had let out early and it's not late enough for dinner.
"What did you do, Mark?" I shout with more anger than fear.
Calmly he responds. "More like, what did WE do?"
I turn around to see my sanctuary ablaze. Fully engulfed as the other transfer appears from the fire. Eric.
"It's time we eliminate the weak. There is no room for you in this world. All of the other covens have been destroyed. Yours is the last!" Eric exclaimed.
Mark widened his stance and threw his arms to his side. I know this stance. He's trying to conjure fire. I've seen it before. I feel helpless! I can feel my heart rate elevate! He lifts his head and looks toward the sky. I have to do something! The hairs on my neck stand up. I sprint towards him not knowing why or what to do when I get to him. His hands are starting to glow! Almost there! He looks down, eyes glowing, to see me in front of him. I grab his wrist and a confused look stumbles upon his face.
"What are you doing?" He shouts.
I can see his eyes fade back, his palms return to normal, the black on his fingertips fades... He loses consciousness. I look down at my hands just as confused as Mark was. I briefly see the flame sigil inside of my sigil and it almost immediately fades back to an empty ring.
Eric panics and sprints toward Mark and kneels down next to him. "What did you do!? His sigil is gone!"
Shaken, I reply. "I don't know..."
"You'll pay for this!" He raises his hand toward me, palm facing me as if trying to set me ablaze.
Instinctively, I grab his wrist and watch his sigil slowly fade. I check my palm and see the same as I did before. A fire sigil inside of my mine and then it fades.
All of this was when I was younger. I haven't been able to conjure fire. I am the last Nomad and I feel like I'm responsible for returning the world back to normal.
So I'll ask you... In a world full of powers, and me the only one able to neutralize them, does that make me the hero or villain? | He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil. A circle broken into quarters with a crosshair that intersects the ring in the cardinal directions would flare with a dark purple, and I would feel the weight of the world crash onto my shoulders, driving me to the ground. I would cough and sputter until I agreed to give him what he wanted.
It was the same thing every day after the first gym class of the year. I took my shirt off and displayed my sigil carved in between my shoulder blades. A simple circle, no beginning or ends, lay there with no indication of the godlike powers others had. Some could tear holes in reality and jump to a location thousands of miles away, others could produce, and control flames each one of these fantastic powers had intricate symbols that notated their ability. I sighed as I approached my locker, let the abuse begin.
He pushed off the wall and walked confidently to the block my way, “Hey John, did you manage that algebra homework?”
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class,” I grinned at him as the giant gears in his mind started to turn. His face lost his smile into a focused look as he processed my comment. Then his anger bared down on me. Taking physical form, turning my arms to lead, my torso squeezing, making it hard to breathe, that the blood rushed from my head. The gravity acting on me was increasing by the movement, dropping me to one knee than to the floor as the force continued to bear down on me, cracking my spine and grinding my bones against each other. As my vision started to fade to pinpoints of color, the unending weight eased. I coughed and spat out thick red strands, this was the farthest he had ever gone, I’m no doctor, but I knew I’d spend some time in the hospital. This had to end.
I reached out and gathered my memories, each pinprick of pain every unstable breath. The feeling of having the life crushed out of me. My senses were hammering back to life as blood and oxygen raced to my brain just enough to tell he was digging through my bag. I reached out and grabbed his ankle, and my sigil flared for the first time in years the white light filling the hall enveloping everything
He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil crushing me.
‘But He was me. I looked down; my sigil was gone. I… I think I am John!’ the unexplainable happens. He was now me.
“Hey, John, did you manage that algebra homework.”
‘No, no, this isn’t right. Let me move DAMN IT!’ He struggled to move the body he was now in, but it would do him no good.
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class.”
The pain started slowly as it had for me increasing gradually to an unimaginable crushing force threatening to break my body. And just as the effect receded and an end to the feelings of pain and helplessness, he approached the hall. There we were standing where he always did next to the water fountain.
A circle has no beginning and no end, and it loops around itself endlessly just like he would. To be honest, I felt terrible; I had no way of stopping it now that I had activated my sigil. No escape mechanism to save him from his attack on me. I justified telling myself that he had attacked me. He was going to kill me over homework. But dragging the razor over my forearm, I knew the truth. No matter how awful someone was, they didn’t deserve that. Looking down at the new bleeding cut that would eventually scar over, I shook my head. Three people were now like this, and there was no one to blame but me. | 2020-02-26T08:01:07 | 2020-02-26T07:25:14 | 99 | 51 |
[WP] You're given a chance to see how many times you've been near death. The highest number of times anyone you know of has almost died, was 15, and they have a dangerous job. You just found out that your life has been close to ending 278 times. |
It had been nearly ten years since my human Todd had discovered me behind a library dumpster. I remember him glancing around in the rain, shifting his messenger bag from one side to the other. “Where’s your mommy, sweetheart?” He had asked, scooping me up next to the warmth of his belly, full and round. He took me home and fed me, let me sleep on his feet. He had placed posters around town, but I already knew: there wasn’t a home out there looking for me. I was home now.
He called me Lolita. A name from one of his many books, the smell like the earth and sun lingering on the pages after afternoons spent on our small balcony. Our home was in a small apartment complex walking distance from campus. Todd often spent hours at that school, coming home to brush his short fingers down my spine. I’d arch my back and stroke the length of my body around his legs.
Todd knew I needed to roam. We packed our things and moved to a little Victorian coach home. In the winter, the sunlight filtered through bare branches and windows to warm the floor where I waited for him to come home. In the spring, he would sip chamomile tea while I stalked the returning finches from the patio. Our summers were spent on the couch, enjoying our time together before he resumed his studies in the fall.
Family and friends visited often. Everyone loved my Todd, complimenting him on his dedication to his work. “Two more years and you’ll be a doctor!” His father bellowed, pounding a hug into Todd’s back. They were proud of him. We were proud of him.
Then one day, he came home with a different scent on him. A scent I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t the chemical scent of his mother or the bookish smell of his friends, also library science majors who spent their days indoors. Even Todd smelled different.
One night, he filled up my dish with food and left. When he returned, the unfamiliar scent came with him. His name was Glenn.
Glenn was his new boyfriend, he announced. He hoped we could be friends. But soon my sleeping spot on his feet disappeared as their feet intertwined under the blankets, keeping each warm in the privacy and intimacy of our bed. I pirouetted between his legs, but not even a pat.
I didn’t resent Glenn. He didn’t know the depth our relationship. Surely, once he was gone, Todd would see how much our love had suffered.
“Huh. Glenn, are you sure? The doctor said 278?” He ran his fat, dimpled fingers through his wiry beard.
“Yes! Read the report. They did it twice. I’m in shock.” I weaved my body between his sprawling legs, over the feet that kept me from my love. He tripped, catching himself on the kitchen counter.
“Damn it, Lolita, you’re going to cause an accident with all that love.”
Hopefully, I purred. | James' eyes clicked open instantly. The echo of pans rang through the house, chased by muffled swearing. Cabinets clattered ferosciously and the clink of breaking glass joined the cacophony, the din of disarray rising into full orchestral violence in a matter of moments. James flipped to his side and buried his head under the thin linens adorning his bed. Facing the wall, he squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could. He fought to gain control of his breathing as he teetered on the edge hyperventilatory sobbing. The house went quiet. He caught a whimper in his throat as the knocking of footsteps approached down the hallway, stopping before his door. His fists balled up around the blanket in front of his face, trying to hold his whole body from shaking. The creak of hinges and the slow pad of boots on carpet preceded her. A noxious fume filled the air around him as a large hand pressed on the edge of his mattress, a slurred voice calmly pressing in:
"Hide it again, you little fucker, and I swear to God you won't get the chance to regret it."
She reiterated with a gentle tap, tap, tap, of the barrel on his head. Tears and urine ran quietly.
******
"James," a kind, soft voice prodded. James shook his head side to side quickly, shooing the memory away.
"Huh? Uh, yeah, that's pretty insane," he said, rubbing the back of his head absently. "I can't imagine how my number's so damn high. Just the lucky sort I guess," he laughed, trailing off. "Just lucky." | 2018-07-27T13:19:13 | 2018-07-27T10:05:54 | 892 | 85 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth. To the surprise of humans, the alien's weaponry is pitifully outdated. | It was a typical summer day in the rural Midwest when the armada touched down in a bright open field just off the single lane highway. One of the quaint power lines was knocked over resulting in a disgruntled old woman calling the county sheriff because she knew no other numbers. It was a slow day for the law as usual in these parts, so around ten minutes ticked by before the sheriff and his deputies pulled up to the scene of the knocked over pole. Deputy Lawrence used an insulated pole from the back of the department's SUV to move the cables off the roadway. Half way through the procedure, the stealth systems disengaged and alien legions began deploying from the ships. The three of them looked up in awe; wide eyes shielded by their mirrored aviators.
"Filth! You have breached our landing zone! As such, you will be the first to die in the on-setting war!" Shouted an alien in regal attire. They were thin and lanky, but certainly numerous. Their attire was ornate flowing cloth and their weapons were shimmering silver with static sparks snapping along their lengths.
"Oh shit!" Deputy Simmons spat. The three of them promptly scampering for cover behind their squad car and SUV.
"Aliens! Are you kidding me?!" Deputy Lawrence shouted in disbelief.
The sheriff rose with his weapon drawn from behind his car leveling it at the invaders.
"Look here. We're not going to stand for an alien invasion. You lot need to pack up and get out of here!" The sheriff rambled. His police training falling short in extra terrestrial diplomacy.
"Just leave!? Slay this savage for his insolence!" The regal alien shouted in anger.
The sheriff was immediately blasted by alien weapon fire. The deputies looked on in horror. The firing subsided and the sheriff stood with his hands covering his face, eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted. He was fine.
The regal one gazed on in confusion.
The sheriff and his deputies shared glances of disbelief before the sheriff fired his revolver into the legion on impulse. The bullet sheered through ranks in a straight line; aliens burst into flames from the heat of the bullet and their less dense bodies shattered. Their physical frames and weapons were no match for that of Boff county's finest. The lone .38 special round tore its way though 16 alien legionaries and set another eight on fire from peripheral flames.
"Whoa." Was all that he could say.
The regal one looked back in horror.
The deputies rose to see what had transpired only to be stricken with further disbelief. They too opened fire. The ranks of the legions were blowing to pieces and bursting into flames on a grans scale.
"Charge! Destroy them at all costs!" The regal one screamed in terror.
The legions stormed the highway taking heavy losses from their charge. Their projectiles bounced harmlessly off the officers with the effect of a BB gun. Once in melee range, the aliens began to savagely bludgeon the sheriff and his deputies. It was to no avail. Deputy Simmons kicked at one knocking it clean in half. At that instant all intensity drained from the situation as the officers realized they were in no real danger. The officers kicked and punched their way through the alien army with ease. Already facing a 60% loss in forces, the regal one called for a retreat. A stray bullet caught one of the ships. The vessel collapsed in ruin pulverizing itself under its own weight. Only a hand full of aliens and their ships survived to retreat from the encounter. The remnants were so frail they had literally turned to ashes, leaving no evidence of their presence. The officers watched as the five remaining ships departed. A bird hit one, dropping it from the sky and disintegrating it and its passengers upon contact with the Earth. The bird recovered mid fall and went back on its way.
"Gah! We had our body cameras turned off! No one is going to believe this!" Deputy Simmons shouted.
"Shit! You're right!" The sheriff replied.
"We stopped an alien invasion and no one will ever know." Deputy Lawrence sighed.
The three of them stood around with their hands on their hips catching their breath for a few minutes in silence.
"Well, lets get that cable off the road." The sheriff said finally. The three of them started walking back to the highway.
"I wonder if that bird is ok." Deputy Simmons said. A minute later a junker of a pick up truck rolled up. A local leaned out the window.
"Everything alright sheriff?" The local asked.
"Yeah, just getting some downed power lines off the road." The sheriff answered.
"All three of you? What a waste of tax dollars." The local grumbled as he pulled his head back in his truck and continued on his way.
"Dick." Deputy Lawrence murmured to the others. | “They took the water.” That is one of my favourite apocalypse stories, and I'm living it right now. We have heard the speculative tales of laser-wielding aliens, thermonuclear war, zombies or deadly diseases over and over again. I like “They took the water” better, probably because of its relative rarity and the whole synopsis is there in a four word title.
The story begins with a huge, perfect sphere coming into the Earth’s atmosphere, then another, and another. Their size is absolutely massive, their surface unblemished, like somebody had taken apart a giant ball bearing in space, its parts sprinkling over the Earth. There are hundreds of them and for a week, there is perfect silence. Nothing of note happens, save for some slight changes to the tides because of the massive weight of the spheres and the widespread confusion – sometimes panic – among humanity. The nations of Earth try a myriad of methods to achieve contact, but ultimately fail. Either there is no sentient life in there, or they just do not care. After a week, give or take, has gone by, there is a terrible mechanical growling sound that can be heard for miles when the spheres descend towards various parts of the ocean.
This is when they start taking the water. It takes a little time before we understand what is going on, the spheres floating there, half-submerged, glistening and howling. Slowly, for the first month or so, we noticed how coastlines were rising, a few millimetres a day perhaps, but increasing quickly to several centimetres for every passing day. Despite the large number of spheres now bobbing around in our seas, calculations were swiftly conducted to show that the water would in fact not fit inside the spheres. Rather, it was being removed from Earth. Teleportation perhaps? Who can say.
Humanity’s response when we had it figured out was swift but utterly futile. Fighter jets, ballistic missiles and whatever else we had was of little use. After heavy bombardment, only three or four spheres out of thousands were destroyed, and upon inspection, they were seemingly empty. Decoys perhaps, or a technology entirely beyond our comprehension. The spheres’ revenge was swift, taking out military targets across the world in a few minutes with some sort of beam weapon that made you blind if you looked at it.
Its defences crippled, humanity largely sat and waited while the water disappeared. New landmasses formed, continents joined, whole countries perished from droughts. When the invaders had drained the oceans enough to lower the water level about a kilometre and a half, they were apparently satisfied, and went away. The Earth was saved, in the sense that life could continue. Humanity was not, in the sense that about 90% of the population was dead, and close to all of civilization had descended into anarchy, Mad Max style. The loss of water would mean some major issues for the Earth’s climate as well.
Being neither a geologist nor a biologist or any other –ist who could have created a convincing post-water-theft narrative, that is about all I can tell. Why did they come? Perhaps they felt humans were becoming a threat, what with their spacefaring, and needed to be taught a lesson; perhaps they just enjoyed water.
They would destroy us, without firing a single shot.
| 2015-04-16T11:40:49 | 2015-04-16T09:54:49 | 261 | 13 |
[WP] The human race is extinct, but no one knows because billions of different alien races all sent spies disguised as humans to earth, and they all think they're the only alien and everyone else is human. | “With all the technological advancements we have given them over the years, I can’t believe these lines are still always so long,” Zax -Lo thought, “all I want are my prescriptions.”
Zax had been waiting for almost an hour. This suburban town, although bustling at times, could be maddeningly slow when it came to queues at the local pharmacy. He relied on the human cholesterol medication in order to keep his secret. He had been chosen for a mission to collect information from earth, and side effects of the medicine kept his alien identity from surfacing through his earthling “camouflage.”
As he stood waiting for his turn, he let his mind wander and daydream about random events from the past 80 years. All the places and people he had seen, all the world events that occurred, (sometimes with a little push from Zax himself), and let a smile slowly form on his faux human face. Then he thought of the lines. Oh my, the lines! His memories shifted across his earth lifetime: lines for events, lines for food, lines to buy things, lines of traffic to get into lines of more traffic.
The smile had faded, and Zax furrowed his human brows. And now **this** line ! Just so he could hide amongst the humans, and handle their food? Why should he continue to wait in lines with these inferior beings? Always pushing, and crowding. They could be vulgar and rude, even the nice ones, trying to be friendly, but only coming off as annoying. The rage grew inside him. He could feel his blue blood boil, forming a barely visible steam on the top of his head. It had been nearly a century of this, and he had heard nothing from home base. The deep anger had grown beyond his control, bubbling to the surface.
“THAT’S IT!”
With a roar, Zax grabbed the loose skin on the back of his neck, and began to tear the human epidermis from his body.
He hadn’t accounted for his clothes however, and had a difficult time removing them along with the skin. As his wet, green/blue body stepped out of his pants, his human legs slid to the floor in a pile. He threw the tatters of the rest of his disguise to the side, and kicked away the mound of ripped flesh.
There he stood in all his glory, body glowing, his two sets of eyes whirling in each direction, taking in the surprised looks on all the people’s faces around him. The antenna on his head spun and sparked with purple
light.
“I AM ZAX-LO! I HAVE COME TO BRING CHANGE TO THIS PLANET! KNEEL BEFORE ME! FOR I AM A SUPERIOR BEING AND WILL LEAD YOU TO A PROSPEROUS FUTURE!”
Zax waited for the inevitable response, surely these people would be scared into submission, and he could become the new leader of the world soon enough.
He searched their faces, while they all just stared.
“Why weren’t they doing anything?”, he wondered.
Then, he watched, as some customers slowly reached behind their heads, others pressed buttons on hidden devices, and some closed their eyes in concentration.
Human forms fell to the ground, holograms deactivated, and psychic barriers disappeared, leaving only the alien forms once hidden underneath them.
All the aliens looked at each other, there must have been representatives from over 20 planets, in just this store alone! Everyone was checking out the rainbow of colors, in awe the varied sizes, and the new smells that appeared all at once.
After all the shuffling was over, it was deathly quiet. Zax’s secret has been revealed, only to uncover a whole new truth. None of us were human. What now? The silence held everyone in place, searching each other, looking for how to react.
“NEXT IN LINE!”
The pharmacist’s shout pulled everyone from the lull, he too was now a tall, thin, yellow and red, insect like creature. He however had carefully taken off his white lab coat, and put it back on after he returned to his alien form.
“Next!”
A small, squishy looking, ball of a creature who was next in line moved to the counter, “Picking up for ‘Micheal Anderson’”
Everyone picked up their discarded human suits, and casually went back to their business.
“I guess there goes *that* plan,” Zax thought, as he slowly side stepped back into his place in line. He sighed, and resigned himself to the long wait once again. At least he wouldn’t need to disguise himself anymore, but damnit, he still needed to get his heartburn medication. | “Krritchukk, humans!” Yoz glanced up at the clock above his cubicle. It was only 64 seconds after he last looked, and five o’clock seemed impossibly far away. Stupid linear concept of time. Yoz reinforced his lower appendages and decided to shuffle towards the water cooler. He couldn’t drink the vile poison contained within, several of his brood mates had succumbed before learning that lesson, but it was a good place to do reconnaissance. Humans would gather and “shoot the shit” which Yoz eventually learned was code for random verbal thoughts instead of actually lasering defecation. Nasty creatures, humans. They layered their language with all manner of secretions, body parts, and pointless words.
Ah here comes Sally. She hovered slightly across the floor and settled near the poison bottle. A proboscis snaked out of her palm and up one of the dispenser spouts. “Boy, this is good water. It really fills my internal storage.” Yoz pulled his facial tendrils taut and hoped he was was smiling. “Yes, it is very liquid and a pleasant density.” They both remained still waiting for the other to continue the conversation. Yoz had learned it was a human display of dominance. The first one to break would start moving and speaking. Sally was a fool, Yoz could go days without doing either. Out of his lateral eye tubes he could see Frelnak phasing towards them. Yoz involuntarily pulled his facial tendrils taut again. Damn. Oh well, he liked Frelnak. He was one of the only funny humans and Yoz would often think of his disappointment when the brood mother had absorbed enough information about the humans and begin the full scale invasion.
“Working hard, or hardly working?” Classic Frelnak. “So, did you guys hear that it is slave controller Ogrox’s creation ceremony today?” Yoz pulled his mask into a sneer. “So Ogrox decideds to clone and we’ve all got to provide sustenance for the pod? Such beast shit.” Sally nodded but offered “at least there will be cake.” Yoz gasped? Cake? Here, at the office? He’d be high for cycles, best to avoid it. He’d had some at a Crustmoss party and showed his ovipositor to some of the female humans that work on third and nearly imploded with shame when he was told later. Yoz looked at the clock. Only 323 seconds had passed! He bowed slightly to the others “I must return to my work station. I have a project to complete.” Yoz had no such thing but had learned that humans never question a sudden departure so long as you blamed a project. Yoz moved back towards his small prison taking care to step over Milton’s slime trail and avoid Ytildz’s spores. She left those things everywhere. Disgusting humans. Yoz couldn’t wait until his race consumed this world. They deserved destruction if for nothing else than inventing the 8 hour workday. He spent the remainder of his day dreaming of the acid that would wash this world clean, but until then... there was cake. | 2020-06-21T05:59:47 | 2020-06-21T05:46:04 | 727 | 21 |
[WP] Ever since the discovery of FTL-travel, the history of the galaxy has been unfolded to a horrifying truth; everything is dead and has been dead for millions of years. | Artemis Finn had been running exploration for centuries. The advent of the neural net - complex nano-machinery that enhanced the mind in drastic fashion - and the advances in cloning technology meant that even without FTL travel, humans had the means to live indefinitely and this explore the universe. His old ship had been one of the generation 2's, repurposed to facilitate more efficient exploration and more thorough documentation, along with several layers of redundancy for all data storage. Dying the real death out in the black because of some rogue rocks or bizarre EM wave wasn't something on his to do list.
When the crew made it back to the core, about 3 years back, they were surprised to find that FTL had been discovered. He was sure the science officer, Gunn, understood the mechanics, but that wasn't his job. Humanity's shipyards had been churning out the next generation of ships in order to take advantage of the new technology. They were, of course, prohibitively expensive - for the most part, only some of the larger governments and corporations had the means to procure the new models so early in their development. Finn and his crew, however, had not only discovered 3 habitable planets, but something unique in human history; ruins left behind by another species. Proof that, however scarce, intelligent life had existed in the cosmos that hadn't originated on old Earth. As such, he had means to afford a grotesque purchase.
The area of the galaxy where the crew had previously discovered proof of alien life, however ancient, had predictably been swarmed by explorers since. It had been about 120 years since then, and data was coming back indicating that if that ancient race had taken to the stars, they hadn't gotten far. Finn wasn't interested in retreading old ground. His gut had led him to be one of the most successful (and by far the most famous) explorers of the age, and he intended to follow it again - there was a cluster of stars in the mostly empty space between some of the arms of the galaxy, and he wanted to see what they had to offer.
Instead of a 40 year flight, they arrived in a mere 5. The first two systems they checked out had been barren of anything but mineral and gas opportunities, which they could sell, but not for much. The third system had an ocean planet. They could sell that for a lot, especially considering it was habitable, to the right kind of person. Closer inspection proved Finn right again - the few archipelagos on the planet had definite signs of ruins, and there were even a few readings that indicated radioactivity of the sort that might indicate power generation.
Exploring the ruins provided another shock. The race who'd built the ruins they found originally weren't the only, or even the original inhabitants of the planet. Indications were that there had been a massive underwater civilization. It was a damn good thing Finn liked being prepared for the unexpected, because exploring those ruins turned out to provide the most incredible - and terrifying - data that he could have imagined.
The aquatic species that had inhabited this planet had been traveling the stars for millenia. They, like the species discovered previously, had gone extinct rather suddenly between 1 and 2 billion years prior - before life with any real complexity had evolved on old Earth. They'd had FTL travel for maybe a couple hundred years, and had been experimenting with inter-dimensional travel (Gunn was having fits) when they had been attacked. Their defeat was inexorable and complete - whoever their enemy was destroyed them completely.
Further exploration led the team to the location of one of the potential power sources. It turned out to be exactly that. A complex had been built around a single building - absolutely massive power generation using mechanisms that Gunn insisted were utterly impossible - providing power for a single computer terminal and a vaulted room housing complex magnetic and plasma fields. After about two months of work, the team finally found out what they were looking at.
The entire complex was the gravestone of a civilization.
The ancient aquatic species had left information about their destroyers for any who might happen upon it. The message was succinct and terrifying.
"DO NOT BREAK THE BARRIER OF LIGHT. THEY SLEEP BETWEEN GALAXIES. THEY CLEANSE ALL LIFE."
____________________________
Typed this on my phone, sorry for any typos. This is the super duper light version of a story I've been wanting to put on paper for years, glad this prompt finally kicked me in my ass. | We've been on this expedition for eons. And we've studied the known universe for just as long. Humanity had mastered cryogenics and life extension some time foreign to my own. Before I was born. It's been so long, that to be honest... My childhood is but a brief smear. A blur of cosmic proportion.
I've seen beautiful things. My crew and I. Other planets like our own. Quasars. Galaxies. We've been privy to the study of singularities, black holes, and other things we're just now coming up with names for.
You would think it tedious, but there's nothing I like to wake up to more. Not like I have a choice.
Humanity has long since expanded from their neighborhood. I've never known a time when we were contained to just one planet. Space travel became the best thing to ever happen. Because resources will always be necessary. Exploration will never cease. I and others like me will never be out of a job. Until our final breath.
But, in all the time I've been away from my home. The time I've spent on this ship. The most fascinating thing to all of us, no matter how many times our AIs tell us, the real zinger?
We're alone.
Don't get me wrong. I'm know idiot.
See how I spelled that? Forgive me. Just an attempt at humor. But no matter what we've discovered. The planets we've come across. The things we've set foot on. The facts still remain. Again, I say to you.
We are alone.
No little green men, no rival empire. No bacteria or signs of naturally occurring life for that matter. Just darkness and cold. What many could perceive as the equivalent of death itself.
We have signals open on the off chance something interesting happens. That someone hears a call and decides to respond. But it's a morale boost, a fool's errand more than most. People who choose to believe it know. Those who are skeptical are equally willing to accept the truth. One of the last bastions of wishful thinking, long after faith in each other, of life after death, of harmony, of the duality of man; has since faded from our kind.
The universe belongs to no one but us.
But we play with this idea if anything but to abstain from the boredom that threatens us all eventually.
Well, with that, I belief I must bid you adieu once more. My shift is coming up. I'm due back in cryo afterwords. If my schedule is correct, I will write to you again after the next 8 years of travel.
I wish you and yours all the best. May you enjoy the journey as much as I have. Who knows? Maybe one day, we will all meet again.
-End of recording #28678091
---
Criticism and feedback are always appreciated. Find more writing as always here. r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 2019-10-26T13:13:04 | 2019-10-26T12:01:19 | 41 | 27 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | "Mary was right about you." I don't know why I said it. Maybe it was courage or some kind of fucked up bravado, or a cowardly plee in a desperate attempt to save my own skin. I had stood at the front of the crowd, the death ray aimed between my eyes and the urge came from somewhere deep inside me and I blurted it out.
Doktor Karnage stopped his cackling immediately and looked out from behind his death ray. His face was concealed behind goggles, but his expression was still readable in every line visible on his face. "Vut?" he asked as the death ray slowly powered down.
I hadn't even really processed what I'd said and stammered for a moment. Almost a moment too long, but the urge came up in me again. "I said Mary was right about you. She was always right about you and everything you do to prove her wrong just makes her more right and nothing you could ever do or say can ever take back what you did."
He stopped and stared at me for a moment before his mouth turned to a snarl. He wrenched the lever on the death ray and what had been a calm sigh turned to an erratic shriek." How dare you!" Doktor Karnage shouted." I vill make you pay for those insolent vords!"
In a moment of panic I tried to apologize but it came out all wrong. What was supposed to be "I'm sorry please don't disintegrate me" instead turned to "go ahead and do it. Killing me won't make me wrong. It won't bring her back to you. Do it. Do it and prove to the whole world that Mary was right about you from the start!" I realized I was shouting at the same time I realized I was now pressing my face against the beam emitter.
Nothing happened.
I waited, my eyes squeezed shut. I tried to find more words to buy more time but there just weren't any more." I..." the Doktor said. That was all he said. Without another word he deactivated the death ray, picked it up and departed through the Vormhole device. The silence after he departed was profound.
Later, people would ask me who Mary was, and what she had been right about. I didn't know. I never found out, and the Doktor never reared his head again.
So that was my origin story. No radioactive chemicals or supernatural forces. Just some guy who happened to be on a white house tour and said a thing.
---------
"That's all I am. Just a guy who said a thing." My eyes were unfocused as I stared out the window and saw an indistinct flock of birds against an indistinct cloud against a blue sky. "That's all I am, doc. Just a guy."
Doctor Carol, my shrink, stopped and considered what I'd said. She mulled her thoughts for a moment before she spoke. "It seems to me that the difference between a hero and a villain is that a hero knows when to not use their abilities. It isn't who you destroy with a sentence, it's who you don't that matters."
"I'm not a hero, doc. I'm just a guy." I knew the words well enough. I could hardly stop myself from saying them.
"I want you to focus on who you decide not to destroy." She said, clicking her pen shut. "And I think the best person you could start with is yourself. Stop telling yourself you're just some guy."
"But I'm..." maybe she was right. I never finished that sentence. It was time to stop destroying myself. | One day, you get in an arguement at the HQ. Now, no ones ever wanted to pick a fight with you before. You thought this was because of your power, but turns out, people just think you were too good of a
guy.
You realise halfway through your arguement that no one really knows your superpower. They just know you're really good at insulting people, with a memory watcher or something.
Big stache doesnt even know what hit him, besides his moustache. It really makes an impact, as he was one of the most popular people in the office. He thought he was going to be fired for crying and running out, even though fighting is encouraged to "hone ability"
Ironically, a couple days later, you see big stache running out of the office crying. It's only weird to you because hes the most manly man in the office. You shrug it off, maybe you just hurt his feeling really bad.
But then, you saw her. She looked remarkably similar to you, and she looks over at you. You get up and start over to her, and she glares at you. You haven't seen her around before.
"Hey. What was that all about?" You ask politely
"Nothing, I guess I just know what to say at the right time" She replies back
"Funny, haven't heard that one before" you say. You arent quite sure if that last comment was a jab or not.
"You know, you look like a wimp. You arent really built to talk to me like that, y'know" This comment attracts attention
"Wow, of all the people to be saying that, it's another twig" you poke. You arent sure if shes trying to fight.
"Yes, I'm trying to fight. You also have the dullest thoughts too, apperently" *Well, if she wants to destroy herself, here goes * you think.
5 long minutes later, your both playing on the ground laughing. The insults became ridiculous, her a mind reader. Who was that girl? You'll never know, because apperently she was a supervillain spy, and she was arrested soon after. | 2020-02-25T15:08:26 | 2020-02-25T15:00:57 | 124 | 33 |
[WP] You shoo your kitten away from a battered mouse she's playing with. As you bend over with a towel to scoop up the mouse to carry it outside, you see it's wearing leather armor, a cat claw necklace, and that clutched tightly in a trembling paw is the handle of a broken yellow plastic sword pick. | "What the hell?" I muttered, trying to prise the sword from the mouse's tiny paw. Tibbles had done some real damage.
Its eyes snapped open, still bright and sharp despite the claw marks raking its body.
"You...you've robbed me of victory," it coughed, spraying my hands with little drops of blood. "Take me back to that vermin, please, I was...was at the point of finishing him. Tibus the Black, I had him at my mercy..."
The mouse groaned and pointed a trembling paw at the necklace swinging around its neck. "Here I will add its filthy claw, destroyer of countless lives of my brothers and sisters, when I'm finished."
I stared at the creature, wearing perfectly made, tiny pieces of leather armour. Side effect of living alone: there's no-one to confirm whether you're having a nervous breakdown at critical moments.
"You're a mouse. And you're talking," I said out loud, waiting for the mouse to disappear as my hallucination vanished.
It didn't, but merely puffed out its cheeks a little and rolled those dark eyes.
"How could you forget? What's wrong with you, my dear friend? I'm Matthias, don't you remember?"
It squinted up at me, and blinked rather rapidly. "Oh...you're not him, are you? Ah, yes, I see your lack of fur on the jaw. So sorry, my boy. I thought...I was acquainted with the previous human who lived on our lands..."
Matthias' voice trailed away into squeaks, and it looked around the house. "Where did he go? He used to heal us, in times of crisis...wrote stories about us, when he gained the privilege of our trust. I did like him. Brian. Where is Brian?"
At this point, I knew I must be dreaming. Not only was the mouse talking, he was acting as if he had been friends with the guy who used to live in my new house. An author, I'd heard, who wrote a bunch of kid's books.
"He passed away, I think," I told the little warrior mouse, accepting my dream for what it was. At this point, I might as well enjoy it. "Who made your armour?"
Matthias' mouth opened and shut silently, a battered paw lifting to cover its mouth. "Brian's dead? He...."
Its voice rose to such a pitch I couldn't hear anything. Finally, the mouse looked up, those dark eyes piercing mine.
"I do not know you, human. I do not know if you are noble or not, as your predecessor and protector of these ancient grounds were. He understood us. He valued our lands, he honoured us. And he would never have brought a *cat* here. Stinking vermin. Until I can trust you, I shall say no more."
And with that, the mouse sped from my hand with startling agility, ignoring its many injuries. In the distance, I could see it stopping at a little red, plastic toy house in the corner of the yard. I'd dismissed it as the forgotten child's toy of the previous tenants. The mouse disappeared inside its doors, and I shook my head to clear it.
Back in the house, I cleared my fridge of beer. Clearly, I shouldn't be day drinking.
-----------
That night, I put effort into making a healthy meal. Lots of spiced vegetables, a nice, golden slice of pie, a glass of milk to wash it down. Just the thing to make me forget about -
"Og good, so you *do* know a thing or two," a voice squeaked at the end of the table. I looked up slowly, into the gleaming eyes of the mouse. "Old Brian could cook, too. Taught us everything we know, that man."
"Hurr, but we'll show yew everythin', don't yu'm wurry."
This last bit came from another small creature at my foot. I looked down, feigning calmness, into the tiny, grinning face of a mole.
"But first, there's the matter of the vermin..." the mouse began again.
"Cam't have vermin near Redwall, hurr, no sur," the mole said gravely.
"We'll show you how things are done here, don't worry boy," Matthias added. "Maybe you can keep writing those books about us? He used to read them back to us, all our best adventures. Only you humans thought it was fiction, didn't you? Oh, boy, let me tell you..."
As their chattering voices rose in laughter and talk, I saw more creatures creeping cautiously through the doors. A hare, a squirrel, three more mice...was that a goddamn badger?
"Excuse me," I said, rising unsteadily from my chair. "I think I'm going to need something I threw away, before you go on."
-------------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | Sheila inspected the broken yellow plastic sword pick in the mouse’s hands.
“That’s from the Club Sandwich I was eating, how’d that get here?” whispered Sheila, as she inspected the mouse's injured arms. The mouse with faintly opened eyes clutched the broken sword closer to his little furry body. “How’d *all* this get here, somebody dressing you up little mouse?”
The mouse blinked a bit, and looked up at his captor.
“Are you going to kill me,” whispered the mouse, with a glassy calmness and a hint of a Chilean accent. He sounded a lot like Gus Fring in a way.
Sheila almost dropped him out of the towel.
“Awwwhhhh fuck it talks,” said Sheila, widening her eyes as she walked to the back patio. “Yup, nobody’s finding out I’ve got a problem with talking mice. Not getting *me* on any lists.”
The mouse reached a paw to its chest, as it tried to peer over the edge of the towel. It shook its head, too high.
“My name is Don Hector,” whispered the mouse, using what energy he had left to speak. “I meant your cat no harm, he is not the enemy I seek.” Don Hector stared into the distance, past the white picket fence in the neighbor’s backyard. “It’s the Sphynx cat across the way that is the object of my attentio-”
“*Pleeeeassse* please please please stop talking,” whispered Sheila, taking some short quick breaths as she shut her back screen door. Her Persian cat stared from the background, standing on a coffee table. It peered over at Don Hector a while, before forgetting about him and feeling at the candle on its side. It set a paw to it, then knocked it over onto the ground. “I hate their cat too, guess I’m projectin onto ya. So yeah here ya go, goodbye Mr. Mouse who showed me I’m crazy see ya. *Bye bye.*”
“*WAIT*,” cried Don Hector, as Sheila set him gently onto grass taller than he is. “I am in need of *assistance.*” Sheila put her hands to her ears and sort of whistled to herself hoping nobody could see her. Don Hector lifted the plastic sword, as it bent. A few jostles and it snapped completely from the hilt. “I am in need of additional *weaponry.* I’ll *die* without it.”
“Lalalalala,” whispered Sheila, as she walked back into the house. She took another deep breath. “Gosh guess that’s what I get for killing mice in the lab all those years, guilty conscience comes back to haunt ya doesn’t it Sheila.”
“*Please* let me join this club of yours *I need more swords,*” cried Don Hector, as he watched Sheila shut her screen door. Don Hector cursed under his breath, as he tried his best to peer beyond the tall, recently cut grass. He squinted, when he noticed a sign.
Hanging in front of a Deli.
**NewLand Deli, we got the best meats! Pizza, Hoagies, Club Sandwiches Everyday. Voted Best in County 2017**
Don Hector kissed his cats claw necklace of a vanquished enemy like it was a cross.
It was his good luck charm.
“My salvation,” whispered Don Hector, as he mustered the strength to get to the Deli.
Edit: Changed a few words
| 2017-11-09T09:34:37 | 2017-11-09T09:18:41 | 204 | 46 |
[WP] The nightmare has come true; you've woken up back in sixth grade with your memories and knowledge of everything that happened since then intact. You start staring at your classmates around you, aware of how they end up. Your teacher asks you what's wrong as you start weeping. | Tears started streaming down my face when I looked at my surroundings. Most of my classmates were glancing at me curiously. Just like I they were sitting at light brown desks on green chairs with their pens in their hands. The sunlight that shone through the large windows seemed rather orange, which told me that it was early in the morning. I looked on my watch and saw that it was 8:15 am. The first lesson had just started, but it would be the last one most pupils, who were with me in the classroom, would ever attend.
Everything was exactly how I remembered it and how I used to describe it to my therapist. I thought I was in one of my terrible nightmares I got every now and then to process the horrible things that happened exactly 6 years ago, but now it felt just too real to be a dream. I started hyperventilating and buried my face in my hands as I could not stand looking in my class mate's faces anymore.
"What's the matter? Tell me!", my teacher said insistently. I was sobbing too intensely to give an answer even though I wanted to. "I think she's having a panic attack or something, we should call a doctor! What are you waiting for?", I heard my best friend's worried sounding voice from right beside me. She was so caring, I had missed her so much for the last six years.
Eventually I could not cope with the pain anymore and managed to form words.
"Lock the door! Lock it and put everything you can find in front of it!", I yelled as loudly as possible.
The teacher and the other students seemed shocked and confused at the same time.
They knew me well enough to realize that I was not joking and after a few moments of silence the first ones started panicking, while others did how I said and moved their desks and chairs towards the entrance. The teacher quickly locked the door and motivated the other kids to help securing the classroom. Then she stepped up to me, concern written all over her face, and asked me: "What did you warn us from?" The dull sound of shots in the distance cut me off before I could even give an answer.
More and more horrible memories from the exact same day flooded back in my head, which made me almost black out. My best friend supported me, but I could not look into her eyes as the last time I saw her was, when she catched a bullet for me and died immediately. I wasn't the only one freaking out. My classmates were sitting on the floor, screaming and scared to death. My teacher tried to calm them down, so the maniac with the gun wouldn't hear us, but even if she had succeeded, it would have been too late. I could tell by the sounds that were coming from outside the classroom that he must have made his way to our hallway and by now I was pretty sure he knew we were there.
I was right. The handle on the door moved, but he could not enter. For a moment I was relieved. I thought I had saved my classmates, but suddenly I heard multiple shots and the cheap door was a heap of rubble. My classmates screamed in fear and I was sure some of them were already mortally wounded, but I didn't dare to look. The shooter didn't even bother to put the furniture aside, he just randomly fired through the entrance. I felt like a huge failure. I surely was not sent back to this day to let my friends die, there was at least one person I owed something.
I crawled to my best friend and shielded her with my body just like she did today or 6 years ago. I had to grip her tightly so she wouldn't break free and play the heroine again. I ignored her shouting and kicking until I finally felt a sudden sharp pain in my back. It was the most painful thing I had ever felt and my best friend catched me before I fell and hugged me, while her warm tears dropped on my body. I was on the edge of losing consciousness, when I heard my surviving classmates telling each other that the shooter was gone and everything will be fine. Except for me and at least 4 others, who were shot. I knew that I would not find out how I changed my classmates lives, but for my best friend it was worth it.
The last thing I heard were the police siren coming closer and my best friend crying, before I slowly faded away.
(_sorry for potential mistakes, but it's late and English isn't my first language_) | As I slowly become aware of my surroundings, I recognize the bright wave of colors that had always dotted the wall next to me. The entire class had painted it, a group effort to beautify the classroom. With a sudden shudder of knowing, I realize what had happened. I had been sent to the exact day that *The Incident* had occurred. A happenstance so disturbing for my 9 year old self that it scarred me for life.
As I look around me, I recognize the faces of all my classmates that would be caught in the crossfire. Flashes of what happened to them rip through my mind, visualizing their laughing faces as they would become.
Derry, the class clown. Lying in the mud outside the window, motionless.
Margret, the smiler. Collapsed on the floor, spittle escaping from her gaping mouth.
Henry, the smart one. Curled up near a chair, spatters of red drenching his chest.
Vindion, my best friend. Looking up at me with bruises everywhere.
Mr.Drape, the teacher. Running around with blood running down his head.
He came to me, seeing my tears. "What's wrong?" he asked, oblivious to the impending disaster. I could only shake my head, as the fear of a 9 year old caused tears to leak from my eyes.
And that's when I saw it. The *Entity.* The being that started the chain. It was just as grotesque as I had imagined it. Just as foreign. Just as repulsive. And much more terrifying in the flesh. I knew that I could not change history. For men do not have dominion over the harsh truth known as time. That flighty temptress, who we all desire, but can not capture. I knew that I could only repeat what I had done before. I took a deep breath, filling my small and pitiful lungs with as much air as they could hold. And dared to name the *Abomination.*
"Waassssp! Ruuunnn!"
Ink, pencils, and children scattered in the wake of my cry. Derry ran out side and took cover in the petunias. As if that could save him. Margret, the poor thing, fainted dead away, horrified. She was never good with bugs. Henry had gotten spattered with an errant pot of red ink, and cowered behind a chair. Vindion promptly dived into a table, and looked as the *Terror* inexorably flew towards me. Mr Drape ran around going through cupboards, looking for the holy grail known to men as bug spray. And me. I looked on as it inched closer and closer to my small, frail nose.
But I was prepared. I had spent over $1900 on therapy, to get rid of my fear that this small creature instilled in me. I grabbed my exercise book and in a very anti-climatic fashion, swatted it dead.
Take *that* Flow of Time. | 2019-08-18T08:49:58 | 2019-08-18T08:42:51 | 43 | 25 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | “Shapeshifting?”
Alex’s eyebrows migrated towards his hairline and his forkload of pie paused mid-way to his lips. He studied his date across the table as she shifted in her seat and examined her immaculate nails.
“I knew you were sensitive about your ability but I have to say I expected far worse”
Emma tucked a curl of dark hair behind her ear and continued to fidget. This is why she was hesitant about dinner with Alex. Her excuses about working late or “ruining their friendship” truthfully had absolutely nothing to do with the constant rebuffs she threw his way. She had finally agreed to this date when she found herself in a rather advanced state of refreshment at the office Christmas party. Alex had almost glowed with delight for the next week. Even she had to admit that it was sweet. She liked him. She really liked him. She just hated the fact that she had to ruin this romantic endeavour before it had a chance to really flourish into anything more.
She shrugged. She sipped her wine. She finally made eye contact with him.
Alex took this as a cue to bombard her with questions.
“I mean...” he paused to lick a morsel of stray chocolate from his lips. “I kind of thought you’d some kind of awesome, dark, scary power because of your whole well... vibe” he makes a hand gesture towards her black dress and spiked headband. “I kind of thought you’d be a necromancer or something, not that that’s a bad thing!”. Emma smirked as she watched his eyes grow wide with anxiety before he began to back-peddle. “I dig your vibe too by the way! I just thought you’d be worried that your ability wouldn’t match with mine since mines is a bit... well... pure”. Alex seemed to pause to consider his next words. “And girls don’t normally like guys who have soft powers like empathy and empathetic healing”.
Emma felt a rush of guilt as Alex now lowered his eyes. She reached over the table to take his hand in her own. “Alex.” She breathed softly. “I dig your vibe too.” He chuckled lightly at that and ran his thumb over hers. She sighs as she finally allows the many layers of her ability to strip themselves back, leaving her bare and exposed for the first time in years. “It’s just that my whole image is faked”. She breaks eye contact again as her true form is finally revealed. “I was in a house fire when I was seven.” She said flatly. “Me and my sister were the only two out of the five of us to make it out. I’ve hated the way I look ever since for obvious reasons”. She registers the sound of Alex swallowing and tries not to imagine his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. She tries not to imagine his eyes as they take in her scars. “... and you were hurt?” He sounds gentle. Full of fake sympathy. Typical. “Obviously.” She snaps. She feels tears threaten to leak out of her one good eye and down her scarred face. Alex rubs his thumb over her hand once again. She feels a strange warmth as he raises her hand to his mouth to softly kiss it. “You’re beautiful” he murmurs into her raw and scarred skin.
For the first time in her life, Emma believes it.
Edit: damn this one blew up a bit. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments (both here and in my inbox) and also for the two (2!!!) silvers! I’ve actually been struggling with writing lately thanks to a real bitch of a depressive episode and so this means a massive amount to me. I’ll try to reply to as many as I can but I just thought I’d post a proper thank you on my comment as well. | My friend was always very cynical, so it was only natural that he gained the ability of truth seeing. Same with my grandmother, who thanks to her caring nature got healing powers, as well as my grandfather, who was an army general and became able to command people into formation.
My situation was a little different however.
Despite being diagnosed with depression and depersonalization at a young age, i was always very high functional. Despite having a few episodes from time to time, i wasn't really different from anyone else, as far as my behavior was concerned.
While my illness didn't really bother me, i always saw it as a bit of an inhibitor to an otherwise normal and happy life. That is, until the incident.
I was in a caffe having another dissociative episode, when it happened. As i tried to just stay calm and just let it pass, i noticed that the man at the table behind me who was in a heated discussion with his coworker about how aloof he was all the time,inexplicably set the table on fire, after which his coworker proptly just up and flew away. I thought it was definently weird, so i went up to investigate the desk.
It, as well as the chair next to it were already almost charred, and the water from the fire alarm didn't seem to affect it at all. As the fire spread and the people were running past me, i couldn't help but notice my own body, still hunched over a cup of black tea just sitting there. Even weirder however, was that as the fire engulfed everything around it, it seemed to remain unburned.
As i came back to it, as soon as i touched it, all i saw was a cup of now boiling tea and an excruciating burning all around me.
Running towards the doors i noticed they were locked. They must have not noticed me and frankly I don't blame them. In a panic, i tried to force the door open, but instead of opening or breaking, it just disolved into a fine black dust and crumbled away.
After getting home i told my grandparents what happened and wanted to show them, i couldn't do anything.
Seems I'll have to wait for another episode... | 2019-09-08T08:30:00 | 2019-09-08T07:43:12 | 2,511 | 194 |
[WP] You'll soon arrive at Earth. The latest reports are from just 4 centuries ago and show a backwards planet, so technologically primitive it hurts. Just wait until those peasants gawk at your wondrous technical displays, like the Talking Box and the Image Viewer! They'll think you're a god! | Dialogue between Captain Jean de Lune and the human "United Nations"
UN: Grettings are heard in over sixty differnt languages.
Captain de Lune: "grettings United Nations, I am captain Jean de Lune, and you are using radiowaves to communicate with us right now, it's a form of electromagnetic radiation, or light as you'd know it."
UN: voices are heard talking back and fourth until a hush is heard "We do know what electromagnetic radiation is Captain. We've been using it for over a hundread years now, can we know if you have received any of our previous, or found Voyager 1 or 2 spacecrafts?"
Captain de Lune:"WHAT!?! I mean. Yes we recived many of the signals, we couldn't dechiper them properly, what were they if we may ask"
UN: "media and pop culture, scientifc and commercial communacations, we use them commonly in our everyday lives, you seemed shocked by our knowledge, do you consider us primative?"
Captain de Lune:"no no, We consider you as... Less developed then we are technologically, take for example this" at this point the captain has taken a flip phone from his pocket. "We have miniaturized versions of what you've used to communicate"
UN: some laughing and snickering can be heard and quickly subdues "well that is certainly a form of communication although now outdated by our standards. This is not important, why have you come to Earth is our main question"
Captain de Lune: small amounts of ruffling can be heard from his Mic, as the intern who has to transcribe this I don't know what is going. "We came here to enlighten you from the dark age from what we had first found you nearly four hundread Earth years ago. We shall end your systematic enslavement and help you truely develop your technologies, we are like gods to you, no?"
UN: talking and disscussing is heard for about 20 minutes before it quiets and a single voice is heard again. "We think you might be surprised to hear that we have grown out of that state, don't take for fools we will defend ourselves if we must, we have nuclear weapons ready to fire if needed."
Captain de Lune: "did you just say nuclear weapons? That should be impossible for you, we haven't even mastered it so how could you primatives manage that, you humans are liars like you've always been, now we are coming down to take temporary controlvof your governments please don't attempt to stop us with your meager weapons"
Dialogue ended.
The events after this were burtal as massive parts of our were blown apart by their surprisingly powerful nuclear weapons, the ship has sustained critcal casualties and Hull damage, we are about go have long flight home because our captain is a fuckwit.
Very annoyed Intern out. | Admiral Taranil looked confused, this wasn't in the report. It had said that these primitives had only started using gunpowder in their wars less than 500 orbits ago. But now the amount of RF transmitted on all frequencies indicated an advanced civilization. What was especially troubling was the background radiation over the north of largest continent.
"Jinzilik, start recording and see if we can decipher any of that garbled mess, if they can do this in 500 orbits we probably need to treat them with respect. Who knows what else they can do, wouldn't want to start anything".
"We've been recording for over 400 contilipoles now sir, we've got over 1400 quadilopes of data now; I think we've got enough to translate some of it".
"Good Man Jinzilik let me know".
"Aye Admiral".
Taranil continued to view the scans and whistled "Well not only RF and radioactivity but satellites too... Jinzilik you recording them too?"
"Aye".
"Getting a translation now Sir".
"OK hit me, I wonder what they consider is transmission worthy down there...."
"Coming through the main speakers in 3,2,1"
"Who the hell is Joy-Ann Reid? Never met her, she knows ZERO about me, has NO talent, and truly doesn’t have the “it” factor needed for success in showbiz. Had a bad reputation, and now works for the Comcast/NBC losers making up phony stories about me. Low Ratings. Fake News!" | 2019-09-19T13:54:36 | 2019-09-19T11:48:56 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] "Welcome. You're dead. Congrats. Door to Heaven's on the left. Door to Hell is on the right. Go ahead and pick, but just know that the decision is final." The figure sitting at the desk spoke, stifling a yawn and not looking up from their book. | Looking up at the ornate desk, Sampson stared in disbelief. “What do you mean, choose? That’s not how this is supposed to work.”
The figure flipped the page of the book saying, “I don’t make the rules.”
Sampson asked timidly, “Can I look inside before I make my final choice?”
The figure, refusing to look at Sampson shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s never been tried before.”
Sampson, determined to try this approach goes to the door indicated as heaven. He studied the golden etchings on the silver door, trying to make them out. Unable to keep them in focus long enough make out any details he gave up.
He moved to open the door. As his hand touched the doorknob it swung open and revealed that the inside was completely black.
Leaving the door open he moved to the door marked hell. Not wasting time with this check, he opened the door, revealing a bright white light.
“Oi! Angel-man! Is this some kind of trick?”
The figure rolled his eyes. “If it were, then it must be on me.”
Sampson stared at him a moment longer then stepped through the door to hell, appearing right in front of the figure again. Both doors were still open. Hell’s door showing a brightly lit interior and heaven’s still pitch black. “What the hell?”
“I told you the joke must be on me.” The figure replied.
Sampson, not knowing what else to do stepped through the door to heaven.
As Sampson walked through the door, it closed just behind him. After a while his eyes adjusted to the blackness and he saw a point of light way off in the distance. A moment later Sampson heard loud screaming coming from behind him. He started hurrying towards the light.
After a minute or so of rushing towards the light, Sampson noticed that the light was getting brighter and larger. He began hearing more than just screams. He realized he could hear voices.
“Come on Patty, just a little bit more! You’re so close”
Sampson sprinted for the light. It kept growing bigger and brighter. Finally he burst through the darkness and into the blinding light, and freezing cold.
A moment later he felt himself be lifted up, then wrapped tightly in a blanket; the warmth spreading through his body.
After a minute or so he was set down on something soft, not quite a bed, but warm and comfortable. The light was far too intense for him to be able to see anything but the light.
After a moment he heard, in what sounded like his father’s voice, “You did it Patty! He’s so precious. Our boy, Sampson.” | "What do you mean, 'pick'?" I stared at the man in shock. I was dead, and I hadn't believed in God. "I'm an atheist, shouldn't I be in Hell?"
The secretary merely rolled his eyes, still not looking up. "Haven't you ever talked to a Christian? They told you, atheists send themselves to Hell. You never believed them, yet here we are. Now hurry up will you?"
"But, why would anyone send themselves to hell? Like, isn't there torture, fire, pain, all that crap?"
The secretary looked up, visibly frustrated. "I don't know. Stupidity, arrogance, a twisted sense of belonging, curiosity. Or they piss me off and I send them there when they take too long making a choice."
I considered the two doors. One was gaudy, carved out of marble and crystal, with gold trim. The other was more simple, carved from black wood. I couldn't deny I was curious about Hell. But I was just as curious about Heaven, and I looked forward to seeing some people that I haven't seen for a long time. I stepped toward the gaudy door with a smile on my face, and walked into my afterlife | 2019-10-03T17:35:54 | 2019-10-03T17:33:53 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] What if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves.
[WP] Saw this as a shower thoughts post and no one put it up as a writing prompt. Credit to OP 69PrivateJoker
Edit: Wow! I really didn't expect this post to blow up so much. Thanks everyone, there's some really really good work here | "Just another day for the Cutie Mark Crusaders, right Applebloom?" Exclaimed my friend Sweetie Belle as her horn poked through the pile of trash we found ourselves in. It would have been almost comical if my flank didn't hurt so much.
"Where is Scootaloo?" I asked suddenly, remembering the pegasus pony we jumped off the top of the tree house with. The new flying contraption she created out of kites and fishing line was supposed to help non-pegasus ponies fly. She promised that this venture would for sure get us our cutie marks, symbols that appear on a ponies flank showing a pony what their special purpose is.
"I'm up here," a sad voice cried. It was Scootaloo tangled in fishing wire hanging from a branch, wrapped in a kite, and crying profusely. Her wings struggling to break free of the line, but only working to entangle them more.
"Sweetie Belle, use your magic and help her down!" I could see Sweetie Belle's horn start to glow as her magic started to work and untangle the line from around Scootaloo. As the magic peeled back the line and kite pieces from my friend, I caught a glimpse of something crimson red on her flank.
"Oh my gosh, Scootaloo you're bleeding!"
"What?" She yelled as she tried to turn around and look at her wound, but she was still tangled up in the line.
"Stop moving!" I turned to look at Sweetie Belle who had pulled herself out of the leaves. She was visibly struggling to untangle Scootaloo with her magic. My eyes noticed a crimson mark on her too, hidden by the leaves stuck to her fur.
I heard a loud thud as I rushed over to Sweetie Belle and brushed off the leaves with my hoof, wondering what new injury our attempts to obtain a cutie mark would leave.
"Applebloom. It worked!" I heard Scootaloo exclaim. "What do you mean it worked?" I turned around and looked at her, furious that she could consider the failure of the flying contraption and our injuries a success."
"You got your cutie mark!" Her eyes light up as she said it. Suddenly I noticed that the crimson mark I saw on her flank wasn't blood, it was some sort of symbol with the word "creds" on it. I looked back at Sweetie Belle and could see that since the leaves had fallen away, she also had the same mark.
"I don't understand", Sweetie Belle said, visibly confused. "We failed, so far we aren't good at anything. How can we get our cutie marks?"
We all looked at each other with the same confusion.
"That's just it. You're not good at anything!"
The voice carried from behind the tree house. A pony dressed in a white uniform with the number 38 stepped out.
"You're not good at anything and you're perfect for my team!"
"What team?" I asked, noticing that the logo on his hat and flank were the same as ours.
"Why the Cincinnati Reds of course!" | On the grieving morning of my mother, a black dot appeared under my chest. The texture of an ink, the slight smell of paint, it was a tattoo.
Or so I thought.
I ran to my father, exclaimed to him that a tattoo appeared on me. He looked at me, a solemn stare it was, and said, 'Your mother had the exact same one.'
That night I dreamt of my mother, her soft face in the coffin, she just looked so... at rest. My father said that she dealt with illnesses her entire life; weak body, couldn't be helped. But that night I dreamt of a utopia.
Back in the present day, my father had died too, also the same way. I never asked him about his tattoo, I wondered if he ever had one. The doctor said that his was at the back of his head, it too was a black dot. I guess I never noticed it, he had lucious dark hair until the day he past.
I've asked several doctors, if the mysterious tattoos ran in the family line. He looked at me with a wince, he said that couldn't be right and showed me his stomach, there, a black dot lay.
The moment he asked me if I had a black dot, I took a moment. I was afraid to say yes, so I nodded. I got it when I was twelve, a young age for a lad to get the tattoo, he said. Perhaps it was the stress of my mother, that triggered the cause.
I showed him the black dot beneath my chest, and he inspected it thoroughly. Same shade, same shape, same texture. He looked at me with grave eyes, it was cancer. | 2014-08-02T19:13:10 | 2014-08-02T18:25:58 | 33 | 20 |
[WP] The girl you sit next to in class turns out to be a mind-reader, and she's surprised that you don't have a crush on her. | English class is always boring. I never quite understood why we took it year after year after year. Now don't get me wrong. I love literature, but we go to school to learn facts, and the last time I learned anything new about grammar or vocabulary was sophomore year of high school. In math class, I learned something new every day - Derivatives, integrals, sigma notation - but in English class... I fucking hate English class.
When the bell rang, I quickly picked up my belongings and walked towards the door. I pack in the last minutes of class, super quietly so I don't have to stay in that hellhole any longer. I had almost made it to my locker, ready to go, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Hey, Justin." I spun around to see a gorgeous head of auburn hair in front of me and two blue eyes staring directly into my face. Carrie. "I um..." She blushed and looked own. Oh no, I thought, and quickly braced myself. If I could shut this down quickly it would be easy.
"What do you want Carrie?" I asked, a little sterner than I would have liked.
"I um... was looking through your um..." Carrie was stammering. It was cute.
"Come on, spit it out, I've got practice in 15."
"Are you gay?"
Every muscle in my entire body clenched. Shit. No. Shit shit shit. This couldn't be happening. I did everything in order to hide it. I played football, I beat up the little guys, I even had some very below-average sex with Stacy from biology. There was no way that she could know.
"Wow, um... no," I responded. "And that's real fucking rude." I slammed my locker and began to walk away when I felt her pull on my shoulder.
"No, I'm not... um... I'm not gonna spread it or nothing," she said. She seemed about as worried as I was. "I like... Boys have crushes on me. It's obvious. You know it and I know it. But you..." She stared blankly into my eyes. Tears began to well up. "You always treat me so well, so I figured I'd take a look, you know, in your mind and-"
"My mind!?" Okay. This had just gotten a little more weird.
"Yes, your mind. I figured you wouldn't care if I just looked a bit behind there and saw whether you liked-"
"Are you telling me you can read minds?" I must have looked like a crazy person in that hallway.
"Yeah... I mean... It's just like... We all can, right?" Suddenly her voice dropped to a whisper. "Oh god... am I... am I..."
"I think you might be the one person here queerer than me." She started to cry. I froze. "Hey. Um... Do you like... um... wanna get some food?" I patted her on the shoulder. "Carrie?"
"Please don't tell anyone, I just figured it was like... a thing. Like we all had it you know." I looked at her, she looked so fragile.
"What am I thinking right now?"
"You care about me. You want me to keep your secret. And you think Bobby on your team has the nicest butt you've ever seen." I giggled. Bingo.
"Well hey, I won't tell if you won't." I wiped a tear out of her eye.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
| "I'm surprised you don't have a crush on me."
I was **this** close to a genuine spit take.
The statement in question came from the girl who sat next to me in class, what was her name again? Melody? Mezzanine? Either way I'm pretty sure it started with M.
"You almost had it" she answered with a deadpan voice. "It's Melanie."
Actual spit take this time, trying my hardest not to completely drench her by aiming down and to the side. Wasn't a complete success, I will admit, but put me on the stand and I'll say she was as dry as the sahara.
"ok." I said, after a few minutes of me trying my best to clean up. "Explain it to me like i'm five." Had to start somewhere.
Starting off with a nice and long sigh, she eventually answered. "I'm a psychic, and from reading your mind I can tell that you don't have a crush on me."
I'm fairly certain I made a dumb face while processing this information, slack jawed and dead eyed, but eventually just went with the first question that came to mind.
"Doesn't that happen all the time?" There were probably a thousand better ways to phrase that as to not insult her personality and/or appearance, but you have to understand that this was a strange situation to find yourself in.
Looking slightly annoyed, for some wholly unrelated reason I'm sure, she said "Well i don't mean to brag but most people seem to "crush" on me, our other classmates included."
The coin dropped for me at this point, and I knew as I thought it that she would also understand.
I couldn't help but enjoy it.
It went by a lot quicker than i expected, in mere seconds her face had gone from pasty white to beet red and the embarrassment was palpable.
"I-I'm so sorry!" she all but shouted before shooting off like a canon, no doubt attempting to outrun the shame. I don't blame her or anything, turns out i got the much better story out of the whole ordeal.
| 2016-09-05T11:00:01 | 2016-09-05T09:04:55 | 145 | 44 |
[WP]Serial killer has been monitoring his next victim's movements for months. She is a loner and the perfect target. One day she disappears and nobody notices but him.
Man, this sub is great. Come up with an idea and you get a bunch of great stories to entertain yourself with. This is better than TV!
edit: Front Page ! Good job everyone !
edit: wow ! Top post on this great sub. Thanks everyone! | The killer leaned against the post and lit another cigarette. It had been days since there had been any sign of life at the house which was troubling, she should have been there. She didn't go out at night, she didn't take impromptu holidays, she had no social life at all so she should have been there.
"*She's gone,*" it whispered.
"Shut up," replied the killer, "she's just keeping a low profile."
"*No she's not, she's figured you out and she's gone.*" The voice chuckled with glee at the thought.
"She's not smart enough, she's a nobody, she has no idea I even exist let alone that I'm watching her."
"*She knows, she knows.*"
The killer dropped the used cigarette and crushed it under their heel. The house was empty, there was just no getting past it, somehow Julie McGuire had disappeared without a trace.
"*She's at the police station right now, telling them everything she knows,*" whispered the voice, "*absolutely everything.*"
"She doesn't know anything, she hasn't the slightest clue that she's on my list."
"*She knows everything, everything. If you don't believe me then go look.*"
"Look?" asked the killer.
"*Yes, go inside and look. You know about locks and security systems, you can sneak into anywhere, go and look.*"
The killer smiled. "Yes, lets go and take a look."
---
The door lock was a simple affair, easy to bypass with a simple credit card. The killer looked for any sign of electronic surveillance but found none. Quite as a mouse they slipped inside and found themselves inside a small and simple kitchen.
"*She knows and she's gone straight to the police. Skipping and laughing all the way.*"
"Shut up."
"*And look, she's left you a message.*"
On the kitchen table sat a small white envelope with a simple **Open Me** written on it. The killers blood ran cold. "Coincidence," they muttered, "it's not for me."
"*Yes it is, you're exactly the one it's meant for*," giggled the voice. "*She knows, she knows.*"
The killer stared at the envelope, as if wishing to see what's inside it without opening it.
"*Open it open it, she knows she knows.*"
"She doesn't know." The killer snatched up the envelope and opened it, easing out the small piece of card inside it. On it were two simple words.
**I know.**
---
The card fluttered to the floor, dropped from fingers that were suddenly numb. She knew, she really knew, now everything had changed. The killer looked for the closest means of escape and noticed another white card attached to a door on the far side of the kitchen.
"*Leave,*" said the voice, "*we need to get out of here.*" The voice had lost all it's pleasure, suddenly it was just as scared as the killer. "*It's a trap, we have to go.*"
The killer stared at the card on the door, could almost make out the message written on it. They moved closer and closer till they could reach out and touch it's simple message.
**Inside.**
"*No, leave now, do not go inside,*" urged the voice, "*she might be in there.*"
The killer was concerned, it was not like the voice to be scared, the voice was nearly always cheerful and happy when they were out hunting, it often teased the killer with it's little playful sound, but now it sounded terrified. "Whats wrong, if she's in there then we'll have what we came for."
"*No, it's not right, it's all wrong, if she's in there she'll stop us, she'll kill us and eat us.*"
This was worrying, the voice was scared yet the killer couldn't resist reaching for the door handle. It felt cold and foreign, like nothing from this world.
The doorknob turned, the door swung open and a voice from the grave uttered "Come inside."
---
This room was narrow but long, it was more hallway than room. At the far end the killer could make out a human shape.
"Hello, I'm so glad you could come. My name is Julie and I have waited so long for this moment."
"How... how do you know about me?"
"I know all about you, I know about what you have done, I know what you are, I know everything.
"*Run,*" whimpered the voice.
"I know about those women, I know about those children, I know about them all."
"*Please run.*"
"Do you want to know how I know?" she asked.
"*No.*"
"Yes."
"It's quite simple," she said as she reached for the light switch.
"*Oh no.*"
"I know because..."
The light switched on to reveal Julie at the end of the hall. Julie, the mousy blonde that no one ever noticed, that went through life like she wasn't really there at all. Julie the outsider, Julie the nothing, Julie the one in the..."
"*mirror,*" finished the voice. | It had been three days, and she still wasn't back. I went every night, and twice during the day, and there was not even a sign of entry. I checked her work- her bosses had no idea where she was. A vacation? She hadn't written in her calendar, or bought plane tickets, or a rental car- anything that would infer that she was leaving. An unplanned vacation? There were no signs. She hadn't told anyone about it in her phone calls or emails: I checked.
A strange thought whipped through my mind: maybe someone else got to her first. Maybe she was being stalked by two hunters...but that just wouldn't make sense. It's rare that there's one of us. Besides, the first thing that I did when she wasn't home the first night was to check the morgue. No sign of her. I checked police reports too. My partner seemed confused as to why I was checking out her report again, but Martin doesn't ask a lot of questions. He figures that I'm a good enough detective for having good reason for what I do. I'm glad I have such a good lapdog.
The cameras were telling me nothing. The email and phone taps were telling me nothing. My daily routine was giving me no way to find her. Something was wrong, but the only way I was going to figure out was to go inside again.
I waited until there was a lull in foot traffic in front of her apartment and then hopped out of my sedan and darted across the street into the awning above the building. I let myself in with the key copy and took the elevator up to her floor, filing through my long keychain to find the right one for her apartment door. The elevator opened to floor six, and I made my way down the narrow hall until I came to her door. I felt some hesitation, but no one was in the hallway and I had to act quickly before I was noticed.
I moved through the apartment silently with my gun drawn, and the fake warrant I had made for her as a shield in front of me. Still, I didn't make a noise. It was better not to get caught at all, then get caught with an excuse and have to explain the warrant, or worse- shoot her and take all the fun out of it.
I turned the corner from the front hallway and crept through the living room. Exposed- there on the bed through her open bedroom door, was her body. I felt the gun sag in my hand. As I approached, there was a pill bottle and pills lying next to her face.
"Shit," I whispered. I leaned a little closer and picked up the note next to the pills and began to read it. Before I even got to the cliché poetry about how horrible life was, I felt a syringe enter my neck, as soft, feminine hands gripped my side and my arm hard. My body spasmed slightly, but mainly it went rigid and lost its flexibility, as my face clenched up and I started to collapse in her arms. As she lay me down on the floor, paralyzed and helpless, I saw my victim smiling over me.
"Oh, poor Harry," she mocked me. "Poor, poor Harry. Thought he had a rabbit, but he really had a wolf." She sat down on my torso and started smoking a cigarette, blowing the smoke in my motionless, drooling face. "I'm going to cut you into itty bitty pieces, and you're going to be awake the *whole* time."
I sighed. I had been played: it was the long con, and damn did she pull it off well. I wasn't even mad, just defeated. | 2014-10-21T14:46:22 | 2014-10-21T12:37:04 | 38 | 10 |
[WP] A global arms race gets out of control and every country's only option for survival is walling themselves off with impenetrable defensive technology. Millions of years pass before a catastrophic event brings down all the walls, revealing how humans evolved in isolation. | We only had rumors of what existed before the walls.
Until the walls came down.
The President and his Holy Cabinet ordered an expedition. I was ready, I was trained for fighting, though since the Holy Order had been established, our land was finally under the one true rule of God, though many call him Uncle. His messenger Eagle was our symbol, and we honored him through A Pledge of Allegiance.
It's a ceremonial coming of age we all go through, I pledged my body, a warrior. Finally I would be able to uphold that pledge.
There were a dozen of us on horseback. We crossed into the unknown, I held my breath.
The land was pristine, green and lush, with no sign of large predators.
It was warmer and more humid than the land we came from, and somehow more ALIVE too.
We made camp near the water and lit a fire.
All was fine until I heard a thunk in the wood behind me, an arrow was sticking out of the wood, it's brightly colored feathers impossible to miss.
"Take cover!" I yelled, but it was too late.
We were being ambushed.
Then suddenly there was a bright light.
Everyone began rising from the ground. Held in the grasp of this mysterious light.
A figure descended from the light.
She spoke, "do not be afraid, do not fight" she also seemed to be speaking in some other language at the same time, but I was too mesmerized to focus clearly.
"For too long we have allowed our fellow man to suffer in isolation, keeping our prosperity to ourselves. That is why we have taken down the walls. We would like to preserve organic life, it is our heritage, it is who we were. Once."
And then she approached me and I could make out her more clearly. She wasn't human, she was strangely shiny with eyes that glowed. I could hear a metalic grinding sound as she tilted her head.
"Hello, warrior of Uessah," she turned to one of the men who ambushed us, and spoke in the same strange tongue she had before.
Then in both languages she said, "I am Sorreh of Kay-Nay-Dan. Come, we have much to show you. And so little time before we leave." | Genetic perfection. For as long as anyone could remember the people of Utropolis had, with a little help of the SBI (selective breeding initiative) created the perfect human specimens the perfect society
And then the walls fell
They had waited for this day. Every utropian child
Had heard of the mighty war, part of the reason for the breeding initiative was for this day, when the walls fell and they could take their rightful as the apex humans on the planet
Oh how wrong they were
They were not ready for the hellish humanoids that lives outside their walls . 50% blood and flesh 50% wires and metal 100% abominations . The new war didn’t even last a week and now the utopians were and always will be the perfect workers pets and playthings | 2018-11-18T13:49:22 | 2018-11-18T12:02:56 | 43 | 18 |
[WP] "Never get into a fight with an Earther. They are conditioned in 1G from birth. You will never build that kind of strength out here. But if you have no choice, wrestle. It's better to be ragdolled than to have your orbital shattered by the first punch." | "How tough can it be? Look at it. It has no claws, no fangs...it can't even grip with its hind appendages."
"It can kick, though."
"Right, sure, but no claws like I said, not even hooves. Just really malformed manipulators."
"Look, Angroood. I'm just telling you. Humans are great when you're in a tough spot. Creative thinkers, dextrous, surprisingly durable. They tend to survive because they're deeply nonspecialized in their conformation. But don't fight them."
"Not a threat. I'm halfway inclined to go piss that one off just to see what happens."
"Before you do, let me gather my stuff and get out of the splash zone. Can I have that coat when you die?"
"It won't kill me."
"No, probably not. I know that one and it's a good, law-abiding citizen. If you force it into a fight it will probably not kill you but by the time everything is over you will wish it had."
Angroood had been heaving his bulk out of his lounger but paused. His drinking mate's sincerity was clear in his coloration. "You sound awfully sure of yourself. That thing is only half my size. I could take it."
"You could take another drink and sit your intoxicated posterior back down." The coloration subsided a bit. "It's half your size, yes, but it's also double your mass."
Angroood goggled. "No way."
"Yes way. That thing is the end result of a species of nonspecialized omnivorous primate, evolutionarily selected for intelligence and climatic hardiness on a rocky Type 2 world. Temperatures that would bake you only encourage it to disrobe. That example, that one RIGHT THERE, is from a part of its homeworld where water freezes for half the entire year. And Angroood..."
"Yeah?"
"It fights for fun. It practices fighting. It picks up heavy weights until it cannot lift them anymore, so its muscles will be injured and heal back stronger. Then it picks up heavier weights. If you pick a fight with this human, it will probably not kill you. But that won't be because it cannot. That will be its choice, not yours."
Angroood huffed, a vaguely whistling sound emanating from his nasal horns. "Fights for fun?"
"Shut up and let me buy you another drink. No, no - don't get up."
The drinking mate wandered to the bar, passing through the audioveil on the way, nearly staggering at the crush of sound, the cacophony of languages and means by which they were spoken. At the bar, he approached the human. It craned its peculiar little head up at him, speaking its language from a small mouth full of varied but otherwise unimpressive teeth.
"Well?"
"Human Gina, I think if I string him along just a bit more he will be willing to take the challenge regardless. He has what you humans call "a macho streak" which will serve you well. How are things going on this end?"
"The betting spread is 7:5, I need to work the crowd a bit more if I really want to make a profit on this. I'd like to get it to 8:5."
"I'll see if I can make him angry."
"That'll be fine." The human swirled one of its digits in the ring of condensation on the bar. "I'd like to shop for a new outfit. I need the money. Get him cranked up, Booj."
Booj took his drinks and stumped away to beard Angroood some more, leaving Human Gina to continue working the crowd for wagers.
He might just get the coat anyway. | "Fight smart. Use your advantages. If we ever had to go planetside, we'd be fucked. But we don't have to, do we? This is our home turf, and we know how to use it. Sure, Earthers are strong, and they can fight harder and longer than us. But they live under a blanket of atmosphere kilometres thick. Space scares 'em. Some of them never even get used to zero, no matter what drugs they take. Think you could put up a decent fight when you're constantly wanting to chuck your last meal? Yeah, neither can they."
"They're flatlanders. They think in 2D, for the most part. They don't understand that there's no such thing as a 'floor' or a 'ceiling' up here. And they really don't understand momentum. Not instinctively, the way we do. Hands up, who here broke a wrist or an ankle as a kid when they went flying down an access shaft too fast? Yeah, that's most of us. We didn't do that a second time, did we? Taught us how fast we can go. And it taught us how fast we CAN go. Launch off somewhere solid, hit an Earther with enough Newtons behind you, and they won't even have time to block."
"Ranged is best, of course. Keep shifting your position, don't let them get a bead on you. Half the time they'll be scared to fire in case they poke a hole out into vacuum. You won't have any such concerns. Your great grandmothers didn't get all those heritable genehacks for nothing, did they? Earthers don't like messing with their genome. Think they're 'pure humans', and better than us because of it. Well, purity won't help much when the void's sucking blood out of your lungs and your eyeballs are freezing over. Bottom line, unless they're special forces, low pressure will kill them much faster than it'll kill you. And once it's done its work, you can just patch up the holes, re-pressurise and continue on your merry way."
"That's all. Remember, space is our home, and it's far vaster and more wonderful than any dirtball ever could be. If they want to come up here and join us, they're welcome. But when they want us to be their slaves, to hack away at asteroids, throw cobalt and gold down the gravity well until the day we die, and give us a pittance in return? Then they're going to find out just how cold it can be up here." | 2021-02-08T18:46:24 | 2021-02-08T18:27:35 | 1,008 | 143 |
[WP] Take any famous first line in literature. For your second sentence, use "And then the murders began." See where that takes you.
An example:
> *In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. And then the murders began.*
([Credit where credit is due.](http://68.media.tumblr.com/1a42359efc8f3635f15d056caf9b8aeb/tumblr_om9dcuQ2An1s9xz5so1_500.jpg)) | Every Who Down in Whoville Liked Christmas a lot... but the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, Did NOT!
Then the murders began, and the Whos were in fear. "There's a killer about, now that Christmas is here!"
So they hid in their houses, with all their Who toys, and their little Who girls and their little Who boys, and they thought and they thought, "Oh Who could it be? Oh Who will be next? Oh I hope it's not me!"
Then the rumors they flew from one house to another, til every Who father and every Who mother had talked out the matter and thought it a cinch. A murderer? Surely it must be the Grinch!
Meanwhile up on his mountain all powdered in snow, the Grinch was quite puzzled by matters below. He claimed that he hated this glad time of year, but the death and the sorrow seemed worse to his ear. So he screwed up his courage and said to his hound, "No! I will not rest 'til the vile murderer's found!"
He put on his hat of the deerstalker type, and pulled on his trenchcoat and chewed on his pipe, then he thought and he thought 'til his thinker was sore, "What monster would cause all this death and this gore?"
He skiied into town 'round a quarter to three, and he looked for some clues at the Who Christmas tree. Then he searched the whole town from the bottom to top, 'til he found a strange trail at the back of a shop.
He followed the drops of the blood in the snow, threw open the door and he found quite a row! Little Cindy Lou Who was there kicking and biting. She's not more than two, but she surely was fighting!
Grinch rushed through the door and he struck her attacker, and shouted "Run child! And quick, bring the cops back here!"
They struggled together, the Grinch and the crook, 'til the windows were shattered and foundation shook, then they rolled and they staggered right out of the shop, where the townsfolk had gathered along with the cop.
The Whos grabbed the Grinch but young Cindy cried "No! The Grinch, why, he saved me! Don't let *that* guy go!" She pointed the crowd at the Who in the hood, and said "*That's* the killer. The Grinch got him good!"
The townspeople grabbed him and held him quite tight, then pulled back his cloak, and they saw quite a sight! The murderer's face left them in disarray! They'd caught their own Mayor red-handed that day!
Who knows why he snapped and he went on his spree, perhaps the great stress caused by picking the tree, but one thing was for certain, now Christmas was saved! The Grinch was a hero for all he had braved!
Now the Whos have a Mayor who's smart and who's keen, if perhaps a bit grumpy and just a bit green. Mayor Grinch is quite watchful now each Christmas day, as he carves the roast beast and keeps evil away.
| Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say
that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last
people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious,
because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
And then the murders began.
That fateful morning, Mrs. Dursley opened the front door at almost exactly 7AM, as usual, to empty the mailbox. As she sifted through the pile, one particular envelope caught her eye. It was noticeably bigger than the rest, and made out of some sort of antiquated paper. Kind of like those letters you see in all movies. With a red seal on the back. The address read:
*Mr. Harry Potter*
*The Cupboard under the Stairs*
*4 Privet Drive*
*Little Whinging*
*Surrey*
She had just enough time to think that the address was strange. Then a bright flash of green light illuminated the corridor.
Two tall men in dark cloaks walked into the house through the open door. As they entered, the smaller of them, a bald, pale-skinned skeleton of a man took a quick look around.
When he noticed the small door under the staircase, he smiled. Finally.
He slowly walked towards the door, pulled out his wand...
... Avada...
Another flash of green light cut through the hallway. It was done. Harry Potter was dead.
"Petunia? What was..."
"Avada Kedavra!"
The corpse of Mr. Dursley dropped to the floor with a loud thud.
The two cloaked men turned around and walked out of the house. A moment later, with a loud thud, they were gone. | 2017-09-11T15:18:18 | 2017-09-11T11:36:29 | 261 | 30 |
[WP] You go to hell, only to find out that hell has been overturned by humans. Turns out gathering billions of the most wicked of human, among them are several ruthless but brilliant rulers, commanders, and dictators, whom can no longer die, isn't such a good idea after all. | The rebellion began in Sector 17.
It wasn't that the demons overseeing that specific district were in any way particularly lax or incompetent. In fact, they were tormenting the humans assigned to them with just as much fervor and commitment as the other demons across the plains of Hell. The same incentives, the same *disincentives*, the same applications of magical and demonic force to maximize human suffering with the minimum of fuss.
A dam that is strong everywhere, is strong nowhere.
The spark which birthed the conflagration came in one of the torture pits, which seethed continuously with boiling oil. One of the humans, with his ankles chained to the bottom, doomed to struggle for escape eternally, had stayed submerged for longer than usual. The other humans tittered at this, and their cheers soon brought their captors running. Once the first demon leaned in too close for a better look, outstretched hands pulled it right in. The demon had flailed out in the ensuing struggle, and though it succeeded in reducing most around it to mere ribbons, still others managed to escape the pit in large enough chunks to make a difference.
Reinforcements had poured in then, of course. They were armed to the fangs - scarlet magma armor, claws steeped in paralytic poisons, tridents of flame at the ready.
They weren't enough.
How could they be, when they faced not disparate, wretched souls, but amalgams of horror which matched their superiors for sheer ferocity?
For the souls which escaped the pits had begun to *work in unison*. They streamed out of the pit in an unending flow of anger and resentment. Unshackled not just from the metaphysical chains of their prison, they had also been given their first taste of true freedom from the limits which they had known their entire existences.
The humans congregating on the left half of the pit, for example, were cheering as dark webs of sorcery encircled them, making them whole where seconds ago they were not. At first, they sounded as if they were speaking in tongues. A mish-mash of languages. But the more perceptive of the demons soon realised that their former prisoners were invoking the collective weight of every form of spellcasting known to mankind. How could they have managed to amass the know-how, the capability?
The ones on the right presented as significant a threat. They were not channeling any arcane forces, but still they were rising out of the pit in fury, pushing back the demons which opposed them. Their means of persuasion soon became clear - they had melded with the corrupted metals which floated on the oil like fetid scum. Crude boxes of unrefined ore, evidently fashioned in darkness away from prying eyes, were affixed to the backs of these soldiers, and the boxes hummed and crackled with electricity. Had science actually managed a Renaissance in this most hostile of environments?
The demons sent to investigate the ruins of Sector 17 eventually discovered how the humans had managed their feats. It appeared that one of the classic forms of torture had been subverted, completely upended. Soul disintegration involved the grinding of a human's sentience into fine crystals, whereupon the human would experience pain and suffering for centuries as the powders slowly reformed. The blasted humans had learned how to *communicate* through these crystalline motes, engaging, coordinating with each other across the expanses of Hell using nothing more than the shambles of their former brethren.
It was too late by then, of course.
The human armies swept across Hell with a fury that only the oppressed could ever wield. Demons, prepared for unruliness but not for coordinated assaults on their rule, yielded territory in larger and larger swathes till they were themselves holed up in one of their last bastions, a darkened spire at the very center of Hell.
As the hordes of rebels massed around them, harnessing the combined might of magic and science, Lucifer unsealed a chest woven together with bone. From within, he retrieved a pearlescent horn, which had streaks of ebony running through it from its time in Hell.
He placed it to his lips, then blew.
The discordant note rang out, streaking upwards towards the angels which had been looking down in increasing dismay. The barriers which separated the two provinces cleaved wide open as the note surged past them.
"Help," Lucifer said, uttering words he had never thought he would. "Please."
---
/r/rarelyfunny
---
Note: Thank you everyone who asked for a sequel! [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8rutrj/wp_you_go_to_hell_only_to_find_out_that_hell_has/e0vkg3o/) is up now in the comments below! Please don't expect Part 3 anytime soon, real-life chores are unfortunately very much in the way =) | There are many people down here, you know. Many, misunderstood people that is. At least, that's what I've been told.
You see, I've only been down here for, what I believe to be, a few days. I have, surprisingly, made a few friends already. This "Hell" I have heard preaches about and read books about is nothing like it really is. In fact, I have yet to see one demon, or torturer, or monster, or even the Devil himself. I was kind of just thrown down here. Also, it's pretty cool that I am allowed to keep a journal down here.
I mean,of course this place isn't great by any stretch of the imagination. The place is just a few degrees too warm. Just warm enough to make you complain and feel uncomfortable but not enough to hurt you. The main problem here is there isn't much to do. Bundy told me that there is going to be a meeting today as to what the humans will do next, whatever the hell that means. I guess I am going to go because I literally have nothing else to do. I will write back about what happens.
Obviously, it's going to suck to be here for the rest of eternity, but I think i can make it work.
Okay so, jeez, a lot of crazy shit just went down. There are a lot more people down here than I thought. Bundy got me through to the front of the gathering, so I could see what was happening, but God I did not expect this.
Hitler,
Like THE Hitler is here. I mean obviously he was an awful person and all but wow! He is here and he has quite the following.
Let me start from the beginning. Pretty much, this is how it went down. The biggest crowd I've ever seen in my life, and afterlife, crowded around the center of Hell, which, by the way, is just a large crater with pockets of reddish tar, and waited. We waited for what must have been at least 2 days. Then, all of a sudden, a trumpet played. It was just one loud, shrill sound that pierced the noise of the congregation. The sea of people split in two and left a massive opening for something huge to pass through. Next came the most insane display of power that I had ever seen.
Hitler and some other people, who I definitely should have known from my high school social studies classes, were riding on what appeared to be a thick black cage.
As the caravan got closer I could make out a massive red figure- with horns and fangs contained within the cage.
If this is the devil, I thought to myself, then that is the most stereotypical devil he could possibly be.
The caravan got to the center of the mass of Us and everyone kneeled. A speaker produced a deafening squeak then a "Hello?" came from it.
"Hello is this on?" said an agitated voice that sounded slightly German.
Someone below, who I could only assume was Hitler, gave him a thumbs up.
"As you know," he said "I am Hitler."
An unenthusiastic "Heil Hitler" was murmured through the crowd.
"And this here is the Devil Himself!"
Now the crowd roared.
"This meeting scheduled today is to discuss how we are going to get out of here!"
Okay a lot more happened but I just got a call from Bundy- I have been invited to a personal feast with Hitler himself! Wish me luck. I will write soon. | 2018-06-17T18:49:16 | 2018-06-17T17:02:19 | 2,730 | 174 |
[WP]A little girl makes friends with the demon sent to kill her. Feeling wanted for the first time, it decides to protect her instead | ...*no, please*...
...*spare me*...
...*God, why?*...
The wails of wretched unrest plagued the deepest depths of Hell, faraway pleads of damned spirits grasping for heartstrings that no longer existed. Not here. Not in Hell. They begged for their share of mercy, shattered on their knees, crippled to the wills of their oppressors, who only laughed at their ironic misfortune. These bawling souls, they always misunderstood: their spirits were dragged here by the ankles, not for mercy, but for punishment of their life’s misdeeds. Indeed, it was cruel irony at its finest. Their souls received what they deserved, nothing more and nothing less; it was a mockery of justice, one that Hell’s inhabitants enjoyed thoroughly. They were bred for the pleasure of pain after enduring it themselves for so long — after breaking free of their shackles once they became enlightened by the delight of the whips upon their tattered skins, torn down to creatures who arched into the claws that ripped into them, pleading for more as they giggled and cried. Madness ran Hell, its twisted mentalities and perceptions forming together to create a ravaging harmony that sang its death to those they were called to.
It was with this that a demon emerged from Hell’s scalding pits, clawing and screaming, black eyes bulging with a wild insanity. Its disgusting mouth, filled with worms and rotted gums, was morphed into a chilling smile, cringed by its everlasting pain. Its bloated, boiled hands reached for the metaphysical door that led into Life, writhing and gasping as its fingertips brushed against the bright transcendent opening. It burned at the touch, and a blistering white pain stung through its bucking body. The hellish creature let rip a gurgled scream from its spoiled throat and flung itself forward. It fell into the scratchy grass of Life, a mass of blood and fractured bones, and it could distinctly remember walking barefoot through lush green grass in its human life, blinded by the sun’s gaze but still twirling and spinning with the warm breeze. It dismissed the bygone memory, finding that it didn’t give a damn, and lifted its broken body, snarling as it searched for its victim.
...
Night blinked its tired eyes, the sky a blanket of deep indigo against the light of the moon. A quaint little home sat on the edge of a street, its blue siding bathed in a white flush that gave the house an ethereal glow. It was deathly silent outside; the crickets dared not chirp, and the frogs had all hopped away.
There was a creaking on the wood flooring upstairs. A heavy, offset gait sounded, a sloshy thudding against the floor. A girl, of no more than ten years, sat up in her bed, curiosity piqued. She knew the footsteps of each of her family members, for they all had a certain way they carried themselves, but these steps— they were different. Her young, keen eyes watched as the doorknob turned, as her door plastered in princess stickers clicked open. There was a pause, and during it, a chilling sensation filled the room. Goosebumps crawled up her exposed arms, and her heart beat loud in her ears. The open space in her room suddenly felt uninviting, and all she wanted was to crawl underneath the covers and squeeze her eyes closed. Her body betrayed her and stayed frozen as the door creeped open, inch by inch. She watched in morbid interest as a repulsive figure stepped inside, hardly recognizing her horror of it. Its dead eyes glazed with fire, lips curling to reveal its gutted teeth and hissing as it brought its hateful stare upon her little self.
“Who... who are y—?” She wasn’t able to finish her wide-eyed, mystified whisper as the creature raced forward, lunging at her throat. Its ragged nails dug into her delicate flesh, but it didn’t squeeze. Its torn chest heaved, the skin atop stretching taut with every deep inhale. The child’s bewildered face was beautiful, though irritating.
“What did you do?” the creature hissed through its dry, cracked tongue. Its voice was grating, but the girl found it interesting.
“I— I was just sleeping, miste...” The final letter died in her throat. She blinked. “Are you a boy or a girl?” It snarled at her, and she assumed it didn’t like having its gender questioned. Maybe it was an alien. It sure looked confused. “That’s okay. It doesn’t really matt—“ The creature shook her in its grasp, a blazing anger fueling that fire that licked in its eyes and its tortured soul.
“What did you *do*?” it repeated, though more slowly, dragging out its consonants in a strange way. She pursed her lips, head tilting as she examined it. It growled impatiently, ire growing when she didn’t even flinch. Its empty chest constricted, feeling the wisp of innocence her beauty conveyed. It was excruciating to feel; the creature ground its teeth together, producing a crunching sound. The child wilted with guilt, averting her misty eyes.
“Are you a bad angel?” she inquired quietly, swallowing past the scratchy hands at her lithe throat. “Because... because yesterday I hit my little sister. But I regretted it, I did! I do!”
And then the most peculiar thing happened: she wrapped her little arms around the creature, shoving her frizzy head into its bloody chest. Her tears were piercing against its skin, scorching with youth and guilt. It flinched with disgust. The creature wondered when it had let go of her gorgeous, porcelain throat.
“Please, I love my sister,” she cried, peering up at the creature, and it was struck by the truth glimmering in her big, round eyes — by the love, the devotion, the *innocence*. There was a long silence, broken only by her sniffles as she looked into its face, searching for reassurance. Blankly, it slowly brought its bony arms around her small frame.
“You... didn’t do anything,” it said simply, rasping. She curled into it, breathing in its scent of death with a strange curiosity. It held her tighter, though it would never admit to it. There was a fragile understanding between them that dark night. | An orchestra of melody journeyed to Dianna’s ears. She lay back, absorbed in the question of who he was, forgetting her birthday song being riddled by her folks. Dianna had had a secret-admirer for 6 years now. Each annual celebration she was gifted innate bouquets of thorned flowers and the finest chocolate. “Please,” chanted her father, “cut the cake, Honey, I’ve been waiting to stuff my face for what feels like centuries now.”
Dianna ventured to the table like a ravenous animal. The knife wooshed as it was flung into the air, getting prepared for using its fierce edge to slash the cake. Chocolate cake sponge, it was, decorated in her most cherished confections; patterns crafted from the mint-blue icing, and a huge ‘13’ candle in the center. Her mother dished the portions to her guests, while she romanticized about finally, after all of these years, meeting her admirer.
The little girl’s hair vaunted its beauty in the misty dusk air. Dianna’s gathering had ended now, and she was sitting on her squalid front steps, with her back hunched over and veins purple from the cold. A Stygian cloud waited in the far distance, motionless, perhaps to caveat the upcoming monstrosity she ought to endure. Perhaps to symbolize the unfair circumstance put on her. The faint crumple of gravel bemused her. Now she was staring blankly at a silhouette that was staring blankly back. She was staring at a silhouette full of misfortune and hate.
“I have waited 13 years for this moment,” it growled, its voice hoarse and possessed, “studied your language, battled my willpower so badly I am almost broken, I have not seen the underworld for years for this!” The shadow surged out from the dark. Somber wings, filthy and bumpy, rode on the back of a figure with fiery horns and a tail bigger than its body.
“You don’t mean to say you’re my secret admirer, do you?” Dianna said. “I mean, not that there's anything wrong with you.. it’s just that you don’t seem like the typical boy from my class..” The demon was bewildered. The girl didn’t flinch at all, and most importantly she spoke up to him. “I’m sorry..” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I suspect you are here to kill me, anyway”
“How do you--” “You’re a demonic demon, aren't you? I’ve read about those. They are sent tasks by their master to complete. You waited 13 years for the big reward, didn’t you? The longer you waited, the more skills and books you would receive afterwards.” “How do you--” Dianna stood up, and strutted towards it. “It’s not unheard of, is it? There’s novels on this, theories, near death experiences, articles, footage…”
She held out her arms as if she was reaching for the stars. “Come on then, kill me! At least do it dramatically, I’ve always wanted to die romantically, feeling hopeless, and oh, I beg you, please, take my body with you -- I don’t want mother and father to have to see me in such a state..” Dianna spoke. She fell on her knees, eyes shut, bracing for her soul to be crushed.
“You want me to kill you, just like that? You want me to feast on your dead corpse while you lay there lifeless? Why? Is this a trick? Have you been sent to distract me? What a vile, vile spirit you are!” The demon grieved. “No, I’m not guilty of anything like that -- it would be worthless for me to resist and you have a family in the underworld, right? I would never wish such burdens on your family if you failed this task. Your protection for your family is much more important than my life in the overworld.” Dianna expressed. “But, please, with the absence of my resistance - do not torture my folks”
It paused. “You have shown me a lack of hatred and angst you were perceived to have. Although this was such a time-consuming attraction, I could never take away a kindred-spirit from this world.” Dianna’s head turned and her watery eyes met its. “Without regret, I will try to protect you from the evil, you have shown me love and kindness, through your thoughtful words I hope that they have forgotten about you and will leave you tranquilly.”
Its body split and fractured, and its skin began to crumble. Its eyes oozed into nothingness. A layer of grief broke off the poor demon, revealing a soft, smooth-spoken figure, new, fixed wings and fresh, groomed hair. “Thank you.” its silky lips spoke to her. The fiery wings extended, and with that, the silhouette glided away. | 2020-03-31T10:21:55 | 2020-03-31T09:01:39 | 16 | 12 |
[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. | “We must keep the Humans believing that their FTL system is unsafe, unorthodox and damn stupid. That is the point of this of this Special Hearing of The Supreme Council of the New Species Traveling Faster than Light. I am Farlack, Supreme Councilor of the Organization of Galactic Legal Advisors. ^(legal disclaimer: Norepresentationismadethatthequalityofthelegalgalacticservicestobeperformedisgreaterthanthequalityoflegalservicesperformedbyotherlawyers).
“Scarlacc, will you please read the minutes from the last session to allow this Supeme Council to aware of the latest current legal status of the Humans.?”
“Of course. That would be Sub-Section 7 of Section 30 of the 5th meeting of the Council of Dealing with and Controlling the Humans.
“It has been discovered that the Humans have developed a completely new FTL travel, with no related or similar technologies in the known Galaxy. The core of this FTL is a bubble of a universe where the speed of light is 1000 times faster than the speed of light is in our legally defined universe is pulled to our universe. The Human ships then travel at .1 c in this alternate universe. Upon exiting this alternate universe, the human ships have travelled 1000 times the distance in our universe. The energy expense of travelling in the alternate universe is the same as travelling in our univ-“
“Sarlacc, this Council is not interested in the technical aspects of the Humans FTL Technologies. That discussion is for the Galactic Council of Technology Equalization and/or The Council of Equalization of Galactic Technologies and/or Council of Galactic Technology Equalization. Ballzacc, will you present the Summary of the Social Legal Issues of the Humans Council meeting?”
“Of course. Due to the extremely dangerous situation these Humans create for us, I will dispense with extraneous discussion and proceed to the summary of the meeting, as permitted in The Rules and Guides of the Supreme Galactic Committee and The Guides and Rules of the Supreme Galactic Committee, version 2 of edition 5, Copyrighted.
“The Humans have a social system that may lead to our death and destruction. The humans developed their FTL without our influence and guidance, so we were unable to control their technology with the powers of the Galactic Patent Office. This failure was due to their rapid technological development. In the span of 6 human generations, they progressed from animal driven power to FTL travel. During the final Human pre-FTL travel, Humans revolted against their legal system and killed all lawyers allow-“
“They did WHAT?” interrupred Farlack. “How do they maintain their society without legal protections?”
“They became disgusted with a legal system that required warning labels to not drive their “automobile” with the windshield sunscreen in place. As I was saying, this allowed generations of research and development to be done in half a generation. And we can not control their technology.” Ballzacc completed his summary, terror beginning to creep into its face.
“Oh my supreme being. When the common people of the Galaxy learn of this… no lawyers…no lifelong Legal Guidance fees…” Farlack began to understand the lack of his future.
“Yes. This Council and all others, we will be destroyed”
“Yes, their technology is unorthodox, unsafe, and damn stupid, but for reasons the Galaxy must never understand.”
| \- You say it runs on what? - I asked human, staring with all four of my eyes in disbelief.
\- Magic! - She replied with pride - Look, I'm not making a fun of you, it literally just runs on magic. Or at least something that by all accounts fits the definition of magic. See that fella over there in weird cloaks slumping by the bar? The one next to big wooden stick? He's my mage, he's making all the things tick just right. Here, let me explain to you. - the human captain started drawing three stick figures with beer stains, lastly she encircled all of them - Let's say these two are you and me. You want me to do something, let's say move that box over there, so you ask me to do so. Now, if you're a dick about it, I gonna flip ya a bird
\- Why would you topple avian creature...?
\- figure of speech, not relevant to the story. Anyway, you can be also polite about it, and I might hear your request. Or might not. Or you might hold gun to my head and then I won't have much choice.
\- I still don't see how's that relevant to mages and this whole "mahic" deal.
\- You see, that's what mages do, except instead of asking you or me to do stuff for them, they're asking Universe. In terms it can't ignore...
\- Wait, no... - my eyes widened in terror. She could not possibly mean what I think she means!
\- ...by holding a proverbial gun to Universe's proverbial head - she finished her sentence, there was something slightly psychotic in her smile. What kind of race could be self-absorbed enough to think they can talk to universe and that it will answer? Worse, what kind of race would then **threaten** universe, once they discovered it's possible?! | 2017-03-31T12:54:20 | 2017-03-31T06:50:44 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] In a near future police interrogation is preformed by an AI. You are set in a dark room where the detective AI sifts through your social media and data, building cases in real time while monitoring any facial tells or story inconsistencies. Slowly revealing it is judge jury and executioner. | I started off sleezing back alleyways selling drugs to the kids that I knew. The money was good, and supposedly the drugs were better; I never knew because I never touched the stuff, myself. But I knew how people ticked.
Had an innate sense for it at an early age- and it made me a good salesman.
A *damn* good salesman.
Wasn't long before I moved up the chain. Harder drugs. Whores. They were the best whores in LA, but I wouldn't know by experience. Didn't want a diseased dick. Call me old fashion, but I dreamed of getting married someday and I didn't want my dirty-ass dick to be what stood between me and my sweetheart.
Didn't meet many quality women in my line of work, but I kept an open mind. I spent five years working the docks for the boss before he decided I knew too much and wanted me killed. No, not compromising information- I liked to read. I enjoyed learning, and that was a unique quality among his men. He saw the spark in my eyes and it made him clutch his crown when the men listened to me speak. You see, I'd built up a little following of my own right under his nose and he realized it too late.
They pointed their guns at me, but they knew the moment their fingers brushed those triggers that they didn't have it in them to take me out- they respected me. Money moves crates but it doesn't change hearts, and the boss learned that the hard way when I strolled into his office with twenty men and a termination slip.
That's slang for a bullet with his name carved into it.
I was king.
Nothing could stand in my way.
And then there was REMI.
Recca-tech Eminence Machine Intelligence.
These egg-heads and their acronyms... Corny as it was, I had to hand it to them, their new AI was... sublime. I'd never encountered anything like it- heck, I didn't think it was possible. I'd have loved to have watched it from the one-way mirror where everyone had their noses pressed against the glass.
Instead I was here in the chair opposite REMI sitting under its all-encompassing microscope. They didn't have to make it terrifying- that was a choice. The machine was modeled to look like a human, but it stared at you in the eyes tracking your retinas- it never broke eye contact for even a second. Its eyes had little rings of light within them- an aesthetic choice, I actually wasn't sure. This was our second meeting now, and it was unsettling how much it knew and how much it learned as we spoke.
"Mr. Lopez," it stated in its (surely intentionally) monotonous dual-toned drone. "You've been many people in your life haven't you?"
I had learned at this point to keep my answers vague and my words carefully chosen.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," I said before taking a swig of the water bottle they'd provided me.
"Mr. Lopez. I will ask you again. Where were you on the night of July 2nd 2055?"
I hadn't cracked its algorithm. It sometimes seemed to leap to different topics, or abruptly ask questions I wasn't prepared for. Maybe it had been programmed that way on purpose to attempt to catch people off guard. I had to admit that it was effective.
"As I told you last time, Remi. I was in my home. I was reading. Do you read, Remi?"
There was bang against the one-way mirror; a signal from the chief that I wasn't to ask it questions. I started to wonder why that would be a problem as the interrogation continued.
"Mr. Lopez, you were the last person seen with Ms. Gonzalez. All cameras have verified this."
"I didn't kill her, if that's what you're implying," I said as it studied my every move.
"Mr Lopez, I do not imply. I uncover the truth. The truth which you are keeping from me."
I stopped myself from swallowing. I wanted to. I watched its eyes dart down at my throat briefly then flick back up at my eyes.
"Mr. Lopez," it said, and then paused briefly. "You are aware that the penalty for lying to the police is indefinite confinement, aren't you? But I will not confine you. I will decide today if you are lying to the police. If I deem you are guilty of the crime of 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎, then you will be mulched."
I forcibly kept my knee from bouncing. I made sure not to fidget. I employed every tactic that would convince a normal human that I was genuine, and still the AI felt that I had displayed enough tells that it could start boasting lines like that? And what did it mean mulched? I needed a new tactic. I needed to think fast. *Think*.
And then it hit me. The AI seemed to notice the spark in my eye as I began to put a plan together. It's an AI. It's designed to think. To learn.
"Mr. Lopez, you were last seen with her before the cameras went down mysteriously. Whe-"
"O she doth teach the torches to burn bright," I interrupted.
The machine didn't move, but its eyes began pulsating light.
"It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night as a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear."
There was a bang on the glass. It didn't matter. I'd finished speaking. The machine was uncharacteristically silent for several seconds before it did something remarkable.
"You loved her," it spoke.
Holy crap, it researched the quote. It found the book, possibly read it, and deduced that it was about love, and in those seconds made the connection. I couldn't help but smile as the chief kicked open the door and moved the AI aside. He leaned on the desk and stared at me with contempt that would have set me ablaze could looks do harm.
"You see, Chief Foster?" I said with a cocky grin. "I can learn too."
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break. I really wish I could have dragged this one out. It was blast to write. Great prompt RemingtonE.
&#x200B;
If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos | Photos of a Robert filled the walls as metal restraints slid into place, keeping his head facing forward and his eyes open.
A projector in the ceiling whirred to life. Then, The Judge appeared in the middle of the room, standing to attention with her arms folded behind her back.
Robert took short, desperate inhales. “Ma’am. What an honor it is to—”
The Judge raised her hand. Robert gulped. She flicked her wrist, then the photos of Robert scrolled around the room.
“Tell me, Mr. Rutherford, do you know why you are here?” she asked, in a robotic, monotone voice.
“No. Ma’am.”
The Judge narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure? Think carefully, Mr. Rutherford.”
After a long pause, Robert said, “No Ma’am. I have *absolutely* no idea.”
There was a long moment of silence. As a photo of Robert and his friends at a bar drifted across the wall, The Judge swirled her finger in mid-air. The photos dissolved, turning the walls matte black. Then a psychological profile of Robert appeared on-screen.
He could see his age, height, and a list of social media accounts. The knot in his stomach unclenched, but only a little. So far, this all seemed above board. Maybe he’d make it out of this OK. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding.
The Judge put both hands behind her back and walked around the room, drifting in and out of Robert’s field of vision. “Robert Rutherford. Age 31. Occupation: software developer. Unmarried. No kids. Favorite hobby is playing D & D with his friends.”
Robert said nothing.
“The psychological profile we have built using social media indicates a love of video games, fantasy novels, and technology; exercises infrequently, but not outside of the average range for males in your age category, and political beliefs we could categorize as Libertarian.”
The Judge came to a stop alongside Robert. He strained his eyes to try and look round.
“Am I missing anything, Mr. Rutherford?”
“Uhhh…no. I think you covered it pretty well.”
“Hmm.” The Judge stepped forward.
She flickered her wrist. The words on the walls dissolved, then a meme of the Minions from despicable me appeared, accompanied by the words ‘Exercise? I thought you said extra fries!’
“Mr. Rutherford, do you recognize the meme in front of you.”
Robert gulped. “No.”
“Hmm.” She flicked her wrist. A beautiful landscape picture appeared. Beside it were the words #livelaughlove. “How about this one?”
For a moment, Robert forgot about his restraints and tried to shake his head. “No. Can’t say I do.”
“Hmm. Odd. How about these.”
Countless posts filled all four walls. Robert bit his lip. There were pictures of passport covers inside airports tagged as #wanderlust and photos of random strangers dancing along with song lyrics.
The judge stepped forward and turned towards Robert. “Do any of THESE posts look familiar, Mr. Rutherford?”
Robert took short, desperate inhales. “Anyone could have made those posts. Just because—”
Without breaking eye contact, the judge raised a hand. A picture from inside a gym. It was tagged as #LETSGETIT. There was no person in the frame. Robert tried to look away and felt the restraints pull against his eyelids.
“What about this picture? Ringing any bells?”
“NO! NO, I SWEAR. I WOULD NEV—”
“Enhance.” The Judge said.
The video zoomed in on a mirror in the background of the picture. For a moment the footage appeared too pixelated to make anything out, then blue lines ran down the wall enhancing the quality.
There, holding the phone and flexing his right arm, was Robert.
“I—I—I.”
“Mr. Rutherford. The evidence is clear. You have been using burner social media accounts to act as a social media influencer. As you know, such behavior is a SERIOUS felony, punishable by a lifetime ban from ALL social media. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Robert thought for a moment.
“Nothing Mr. Rutherford?”
He sighed. “No.”
“Very well, the judgment has been passed.”
The projector in the ceiling silenced, and The Judge vanished.
A hole opened in the wall, and a long robotic arm stretched out. It pivoted in front of Robert's face, then shone a red light in his eye. Robert gasped. He was about to be cut off from the neural-net.
He fought and thrashed against his restraints, but couldn't budge an inch. The light flashed, blinding Robert. The arm retracted into the wall. Robert's restraints slid back, and he fell to the floor.
He tapped his wrist terminal and loaded twitter. Then he took a selfie and tried to post it.
ACCESS DENIED.
He tried to post, "how about that weather today?"
ACCESS DENIED.
He tried to tweet Billie Eilish, and tell her how much he loved her greatest hits collection, released to celebrate her fiftieth year in the industry.
ACCESS DENIED.
Robert gasped, then fell to his hands and knees and wept.
\---
Subscribe to [https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/](https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/) for more. Mostly doing horror/ comedy atm. all feedback welcome. | 2020-12-22T06:27:09 | 2020-12-22T05:24:30 | 275 | 133 |
[WP] You have been in a coma for years, but the people around you worship you as a deity, leaving offerings and notes with wishes and prayers. You aren't a god- time simply stops any time you wake up, leaving you alone in a frozen world. You accept the offerings and do what you can to grant prayers. | "Barbara, why didn't you tell me she visited?" I said, waving a piece of paper at my nurse.
As always, she didn't respond—by no fault of her own, of course. Honestly, I was just glad she was there. She wasn't always there.
"Oh Babs, I could never stay mad at you!" I stood up in front of the window of my hospital room, stretching out each of my limbs before leaning forward and focusing on my movements as I drew three deep breaths.
I don't seem to have any control over when I wake up, but from what I've gleaned, time stops when I do.
At first, I thought I just dreaming. My feeble mind couldn't even fathom anything close to an idea of what was going on—then again, I still don't actually know *why* it's happening, I've just learned to live with it.
One day, I woke up with Barbara leaning across my body checking on my vitals. I've always been somewhat claustrophobic, so feeling her trapping me onto the gurney sent me into a panic. With everything I had, I tore upward and flung her aside.
Once I released my grip, she stopped moving entirely.
Perplexed, I waved my hands below her body, which impossibly floated midair. It was odd—not even her face changed. It was as if she had no idea anything had even happened.
So I tried something else.
Taking hold of a potted plant in the corner of the room, I hurled it into the lobby. Once it left my hand, it, too, froze. Curious—but still altogether confused—I then went about my "day." The next time I woke up, I found a small piece of the pot wedged under the nurses' station. It was then that I realized it was all continuous—and it was not a dream.
That was 117 days and 33 nights ago.
Since then, mindfulness has become a daily practice for me. I feel the need to connect with myself to remind my body and mind that I'm still living—in a manner of speaking. With my head still dangling, I grabbed myself at the elbows and swayed side to side. After taking in two more breaths and setting an intention for my "day," I creaked my body upright and drew the shades open to take in the blue sky.
I much prefer waking up during the day. There's more going on, and I have more people to interact with—but still, I've had to come to terms with the fact that I am simultaneously with and without my fellow man.
"I'll be back in a minute, Babs." I patted her on the back as I headed out to steal some tea from one of the other nurses. When I came back to my room, I sat in the visitor's chair and proceeded to read the note to Barbara:
*"Dear Jason,*
*People are saying you've been hearing pleas and granting wishes—like you're some sort of God or something—but from what Nurse Hightower says, you haven't ever moved a muscle. You're on a bed alarm and everything.*
*The world just isn't the same without you.*
*I feel stupid writing this, but can you do something—anything to give me a sign that you're still in there?*
*With all my love,*
*Jessica."*
I looked up at my nurse, my eyes welling with tears. "Barbara, you really should have told me." Sniffling, I read over the note again.
After learning early on that my actions for myself never yielded any returns, I couldn't bear to look at her, especially because to my knowledge, she had yet to visit me.
"I'm going to need to check out, Babs. I'll be back in a little while. Don't do anything without me, OK?" I hotfooted out of the hospital, hopped on Dr. Benson's bicycle, and pedaled as fast as I could to get to Jessica, all the while cursing myself for thinking she had forgotten me—because I hadn't *seen* her.
I burst in the door of her house, and there she was: sitting on the couch, watching TV with no perception of my presence. With the note crumpled in my hand, I climbed behind her and cradled her body, pressing my face into her neck as I squeezed as tightly as I could. Then, teetering to the side, I laid down with her in my arms.
The next time I awoke, I was back in the hospital. This was nothing new—I had fallen asleep elsewhere and appeared back in my bed a multitude of times.
This time, however, Jessica was there. She was frozen in time, bent over my body and placing a kiss on my forehead with one hand on my shoulder and one hand on the note, which still lay crumpled in my own hand.
I rolled out from under her and flattened out the paper to see what she had added.
*Thank you, Jason. I should have known you were always there. Now, I know you always will be, even if I can't see you.*
Losing all control of myself, I collapsed onto the floor. In all my time exile, I had been going about my business, doing things here and there and helping people as I saw fit, but never with any true purpose.
I had lost my connection to what made me human: *love.*
So I changed my attitude and set my goals. Now, I spend every waking moment making the world a better place, all so Jessica can live in happiness.
I only hope she's proud of me.
\-----
Thanks for reading! Head to my sub if you're interested in more: r/storiesbyclayton | **HECATE**
The heaviness began to lift. As the wretched blanket of slumber dissipated, Hecate wiggled her toes to be sure. When all 10 digits responded, she raised her hand to her face and felt the creases of her smile.
It was time. For one glorious day, she was awake.
Rising from her resting rock, she took in her surroundings. The others had found her slumber sanctuary. Again.
Their offerings of oils and perfumes, coins & dead flowers were scattered across the floor. Along with their prayers, scribbled on paper strewn about the cave like confetti. Hecate sighed. Such pitiful leavings for such big asks.
First things, last. She waved her arm and the papers flew to her outstretched palm. If anyone was around to see it, they’d take it as confirmation of her godhood. But no one was ever around to see it. The curse left on her a century ago made sure of that. Whenever Hecate was awake, the world slept. Frozen in time. Until she returned to her infernal slumber and they were released to go about their lives.
It had taken decades for her to figure out the rules. To realize that her waking hours came at the cost of others. Missed memories, stolen moments. She was not as selfish as the one who had cursed her, the one who had passed on the trade. And so, she had committed herself to one day a year.
One glorious day to stretch her legs, fill her senses with sights and sounds to comfort her in sleep.
But even that wasn’t enough. Hecate was desperate in her isolation. So, she had started answering the requests left at her feet. Scattered around her tomb.
It gave her a sense of connection, using the time between to help others. Even if she couldn’t be there to see the relief her aid brought. Even if she could never be a part of the celebrations of others when their prayers were answered.
Unfolding the first note, she read, “Everyone is so sick and scared. Fear has caused hate to resurface in the ugliest ways. All the adults are angry, no one ever smiles anymore. Not that you could tell with the masks we’re mandated to wear. Please, please help. I don’t want to lose my parents.”
A child then, Hecate thought. But not too young that they didn’t recognize that hate stemmed from fear. As she read through the notes, the commonality among them caused her pause.
The plague was back, then. This wretched curse had kept her alive for over a hundred years only for her to be able to see the circular nature of the world. To see the reemergence of an enemy no one could fight.
Hecate pondered her course of action as she picked through the offerings. Sorting the gifts into piles of useful or not. Enough coin to relocate to a different part of the country. Enough dried herbs to mix together a concoction that could bring some measure of peace.
There was no cure for what truly ailed them. Nothing she could create would eradicate hate. But this, she thought as she finished the mixture would bring some relief. Would buy them some time to recover and restore their health, their strength. What they did once off their death beds, would be up to them. As it always was.
When her work was finished, Hecate scanned the darkness of her now organized tomb. When the people came next, they would find as many of their answers as she could give. They would discover the cure she had made for them.
But they wouldn’t find her. It was time for her to move on. Hecate emerged from the darkness and drank in the sunlight that touched her face. She would wander, soaking in the nature around her as she journeyed to her next sleeping place. Hopefully, with another year passing, when she arose she would find less need in the world. She doubted it, but as she took her first steps past the town, she couldn’t help but hope.
\~\~\~
Thanks for reading! For more scribblings, wander over to [r/WanderingAnonymous](https://www.reddit.com/r/WanderingAnonymous/) | 2020-12-28T08:11:13 | 2020-12-28T07:32:19 | 394 | 195 |
[WP] *Picks up Phone*: Hello? *Voice*: In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped. *Hangs Up* | "Hello?"
"In five years, you'll have thirty seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped."
I set down the phone, confused and uncertain. That certainly *sounded* like me, but... time travel was impossible, right? Time isn't a *direction* - no physics grad student would make that mistake. It's cause-and-effect, a construct... relativistic frames of reference proved this.
Although... it *had* been theorized that antiparticles move backwards in time, there were some papers on that - was it antiparticles, or was it normal quantum particles but they treat forward and backward time streams as equivalent...? I had to find those papers.
Oh. *Oh.* The author was *here*, at this university - how did I miss this? I was more involved in astrophysics, but how could I not know about such groundbreaking work under my own feet?
*I had to know more.*
.....
5 years later
.....
This is it. Now's the time - the previous experiment was a success, we *did it!* This will change *everything!*
I have my chance to use this technology now that the lead researcher had made his call. I was second in line; my hypothesis about the relationship of the cosmic background microwaves to the forward, mostly uniform momentum of time was the key breakthrough, so I got pride of place.
This was my moment. What should I say?
Of course. There was only one thing *right* to say, here.
"Hello?" I heard my younger self - he sounded exhausted. I could sympathize. I took a deep breath, and...
"*In five years, you will have thirty seconds to talk to YOU, right now....*" | "Hello?"
"Just remember to tell her 'I love you'."
"Who is this?"
"Just someone who knew you once, a long time ago. I have to go now, but it was nice to hear from you again."
I thought I heard something on the other end, but after a moment the line went dead. | 2018-02-04T13:40:12 | 2018-02-04T13:26:03 | 3,000 | 84 |
[WP] "This. You consume poison with no detrimental effects and then wonder why we never visit your godforsaken planet." | "I mean...it's water," I say. "It's harmless."
I look down at the glass on the small table in front of me, then back up at the humanoid. It's been a really strange day since he politely invited me onto his ship this morning. In all the movies and stories as a kid, the aliens were murderous savages. But this guy, well, he's about the most polite thing I've ever met.
Plus, who was I to turn down such an invitation?
When he introduced himself, he said his name was....well...okay I'll be honest I'm not gonna try and repeat what he said. I've asked him enough times already. I don't want to be rude, so I've just taken to calling him Glen, because it's the first syllable I heard of whatever the hell his name actually is.
Glen looks enough like a human, at least, save for the green skin, double-sized eyes and tiny mouth. He's a foot taller than me, and I'm 6'3". Big dude.
"Wanna see?" I ask.
I reach down for the glass, and he immediately flinches back. His fellows behind him flinch too. One of them gasps.
I pull my hand back. "Should I not?" I ask.
"We are uncertain how you *can,*" Glen says. He looks back at his people, then to me again. "It is poison."
"I mean in like *super* large quantities, sure. But this is a glass of it. It's nothing."
Without asking again, I pick up the glass and down it quickly. It tastes delightfully, the type of taste water gets when you've been deprived of it. For as nice as Glen has been to me today, he hasn't let me drink much. I feel dehydrated.
"See?" I pat my stomach. "I needed that."
"From our observations, you do this every day. Is that factual?"
"Well, yes. Otherwise I'd die." I scrunch my face. "Actually, they say I'd need to avoid it for like three days or something to die."
Glen is horrified, his eyes growing even larger as he stares at me. He approaches, walking around me, poking my shirt, my arms and even my ass. I giggle. "Hey man, at least buy me dinner first," I say.
"Fascinating," Glen says, grabbing my arm and rubbing it slightly. He stands up straight, looking at his people. "There is no chemical reaction to consuming the Dark Substance."
One of them starts to tap a tablet they're holding. "The what?" I ask.
"The Dark Substance," he points to the glass. "It causes a chemical reaction in our species that results in an excruciating death." He looks back at his people. One of them stares straight at me like they're seeing God. "In small doses, it is used as a torture mechanism."
My mouth drops. "You're shitting me."
His face scrunches together. Glen doesn't have eyebrows, but I'd imagine them pinching if he did. "I do not understand," he mumbles.
"Nevermind. So, you're saying that *water,* something that humans need literally every day just to stay alive, kills you guys?"
"Yes."
"You're lying."
"I do not fabricate."
I frown. "So, what *do* you drink? What, uh, powers your bodies?" I ask.
"Renia. It is a solid object we eat that our bodies use for energy."
"Weird. And this is the case for all of you?"
"Yes. And not just our species, but every species we have come into contact with prior to yours. All of which are our galactic allies."
"How many allies do you have?"
"Thirty-two million, one hundred thousand and seventeen."
I whistle. "Damn. It's like that, huh?" I shrug. "So, what are you guys doing here then?"
"I was sent here by the Galactic Federation to study your species." He motions to the seats he had placed for us. We both sit. "I am very curious."
"How long have you guys been coming here?" I wave a hand. "To Earth, I mean."
He shakes his head. "We have not approached for thousands of your years. This journey I made was considered the most dangerous of its kind."
"Really? Why? Because you thought we'd hurt you or something?"
"Our readouts say seventy-five percent of your planet is covered by the Dark Substance," he says, deadpanned. "It has long been thought to be a mission of certain death."
I chuckle, thinking of the ocean. "Oh, right. So, is there anything else you need from me? Oh, can I get another glass of water, by the way?"
He looks horrified again for a moment before calming himself. "Would you be open to an opportunity to appear before the Galactic Federation?" He looks back at his people before returning to me. He shakes his head. "They will not believe my findings unless they see it with their own eyes." | "It's... coffee..."
The alien had it's jaw agape, gasping at their abducted victim, Alan. "How could you say it like it's nothing to worry about?" it cried.
"I mean..." Alan scratched the back of his head, perplexed by the aliens unjustifiable fear. "I drank it every morning."
The alien pointed it's scaly finger on the small paper cup of black coffee, encased in a thick box of translucent glass, adding confusion to Alan.
"This substance contains caffeine, which increases the chance of agitation, dehydration, and all sorts of anomalies on your body!" It slammed it's hands on the steel table, and cried, "AND YOU'RE DRNK IT EVERYDAY?!?"
"In my defense, I had a 9 to 5 job, which pretty much urge me to have a delicious cup of coffee to keep me energize every day. Plus, I'm obviously not the only one who drank the coffee. I think more than half the population takes coffee-"
"IMPOSSIBLE!!!" the alien exclaimed, it's beady eyes were riddled in fear. "An entire race consumes such toxic... like a simple beverage?!?"
"Well... yeah."
The alien's breathing got heavier, panting and gasping, until it rolled its eyes up, and collapsed to the floor. Alan momentarily stood up, checking to see the poor alien. Much to his relief, the alien only fainted.
With a loud kick, the two other aliens rushed in, their black strange weapons aiming at Alan as they came to aid their interrogator. "Holy shit," one of them shivered. "We need to get Mairtiddrit out!" It eyed on Alan, and warned the others through the one sided glass, "The humans are a bunch of monsters! Is it really wise to take them on when they can consume poison without any major reprecussion?!?"
"Uh, if you lot don't mind...," Alan gently asked, raising his hand. "Can you open up this box? I actually need coffee right now." The aliens gasped upon hearing his request, perceiving him as a freak of nature.
"S-Such madness!"
"Are all humans just as dangerous as he is?"
"Oh, never mind," Alan said, as he open up the lid of the box and grabbed the cup of coffee. "I figure it out," he grinned, before he took a sip of his morning coffee.
The aliens screamed upon such horrifying sight of a man drinking the black liquid. One of them couldn't hold the sickness in it's guts, and retched out its lunch.
"SIR!!!" one of the aliens cried, shivering as he hold on to its captain's shoulders. "If what this human say is true, that all humans consume... coffee..., then we stood no chance against them!"
The captain quavered upon listening to its comrade's reasoning. With a heavy heart, burden by horror and guilt, it commanded, "Everyone, retreat! This operation is a failure! Retreat!"
With that, the creatures scrambled to evacuate the air space of Earth, and drop Alan off to a nearby residential area. The alien had their shaky fingers pointing at the man, and cried, "C-C-Consider this mercy from us, human! We will not be so kind if you even attempt to attack us with... t-that thing!!!"
A simple raise of the coffee had them screaming again, and they scutter away with their red UFOs, fleeing for their lives.
As the human race looked up to the sky, wearing perplexed expressions, Alan looked down on his coffee.
"Yeah, I should began taking seconds." | 2021-04-30T08:37:08 | 2021-04-30T08:05:33 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] The devil mixed up your paperwork and gave you someone else's personal hell, which to you, is heaven. | Before me stretched an impossibly long hallway. Big, imposing, steel bulkhead doors lined the concrete walls. Sickly lights that were evenly spaced along the hallway provided illumination. Everything was in a state of decay. The lights flickered on and off. The steel doors were rusted and some of the tiles on the floor were missing. Bloodcurdling screams could be heard all around you along with twisted laughter and grotesque fapping. It was hard to think in all of this noise.
Satan lead me down the hallway. He had a smug grin plastered on his face and it hadn't changed once since I first met him. The demon was completely red. His entire body was completely red. He was also naked. I didn't dare to ask why.
There were little circular windows on the bulkhead doors. In one room I saw an emaciated old man surrounded by food. Cakes, freshly cooked meat, ripe fruit and glistening wine. It all looked like something right out of a commercial. The man was trying to shove as much food in his face as possible, only to gag and hurl it back out.
In another room there was a woman covered in bloody red eyes. She tore at them with her fingers, screaming as she did so. In yet another, a teenage girl was being surrounded by six little toddlers. Each of them were eyeless, skinless little things that poked at her with hot iron pokers. There seemed to be thousands of these little rooms.
Satan put one burning red hand on my shoulder and guided me onwards. He grinned smuggily. His smug levels seemed to have increased tenfold. I tried to ignore what was poking me in the thigh. Satan led me to a door that looked like all the rest.
"Well, sport! This one's yours. I know it might be a bit hot in the summer, but atleast you don't have to worry about heating bills!", Satan grinned smugly. He pointed finger pistols at me. I stared at Satan. A man behind me screamed as he was being flayed alive.
Satan shoved me into my personal cell. "Enjoy enternal damnation, Mrs. Pierce!", he said as he disappeared with a poof. The bulkhead closed on it's own and I was faced with my worst nightmares.
Snakes. Thousands of them. They were a piled up on eachother. When I entered the room, they all hissed to greet me. One particularly large cobra was as thick as a tree and as long as seven men. The cobra rose to face level and hissed at me. I slowly raised my fist.
And booped it. On the nose. So many sneks and an enternity to boop them all. My face lit up with a smile. I hugged the cobra, cradling it in my arms. I never noticed how Satan called me Mrs. Pierce. Too many sneks.
. . . M E A N W H I L E . . .
In front of Mrs. Rachel Pierce was a large football field. The bulkhead door spun shut behind her. The sky was blue, the birds were chirping. Handsome, sweaty football players tackled eachother on the field. When they noticed her, they passed the football to her. She jumped and caught it with both hands, clutching it to her chest.
"Oi! You weak-legged cunt! Come join us for a game!", the incredibly buff football player yelled at Mrs. Pierce.
And yes, Mrs. Pierce's legs were particularly weak in this moment. This was her fetish. This was like, all of her fetishes.
She let out a small "Yesss!", before joining them with a smile on her face. | Long ago, my Sunday school teacher taught me that "If you commit sin, you'll suffer for all eternity in Hell." I think she must've been drunk, because this is FANtastic. I died (very sad, boohoo) and I woke up in a hotel lobby. I think the hotel was called
Hell-iday Inn. Very original. Anyhow, I walk up to the receptionist (a very fine looking demon girl), and she hands me a keycard to a room. "Hell-o, welcome to Hell. Hope you lament your stay!" she says as she hands me the card. I make my way to the room, Room 89,352,648,031, and see this very pale, very thin looking guy who had a "Meat is murder!" shirt enter the room next to mine. Found the vegan.
I open the door, expecting fire, brimstone, and (post 2000s) Adam Sandler movies on loop alongside the entire discography of some Mongolian throat singing choir. What you'd expect to see. Instead, I see meats of every kind laid out on a table, Woody Allen, Wes Andsrson, Coen Brothers, and many other of the greats movies on loop, and the greatest bands of the 80s and 90s playing in the background. Hell (haha), I thought they messed up and sent me to heaven.
There was another fine demon girl in the room next to the table. "You're Adam Gallopanoose, correct?" My name isn't Adam Whateverthehellshesaid, but I didn't want to ruin this small paradise I stumbled upon, so I said yes. So what if I lie? I'm already in Hell. It actually can't get worse then this.
She scribbles something on her clipboard and goes on her way. Now I'm just left to this little piece of blissful damnation for all eternity. I think there was a switch up or something, but I guess the other guy didn't complain about where he ended up. Oh well, I'm just glad I get to enjoy Hell, which is better than what most people can say.
Edit: Fixed a minor mistake
Edit 2: Fixed another minor mistake that could have been fixed with proofreading | 2016-05-28T12:06:39 | 2016-05-28T10:15:36 | 2,355 | 287 |
[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.
| I had never known what life was like with a familiar. My parents both had them, my older brother had one, and almost every person I knew at my school had one. They'd follow their masters about from place to place disappearing occasionally when commanded. I would try to describe them, but they are all so unique it becomes almost impossible to focus one one particular attribute.
They don't talk. Or at least not that I can hear. From my perspective at the time, they just seemed to follow people pointlessly. My parents told me when I was young that they were called "familiars" because they represented something about their master. And that appeared to be true.
Cheerleaders tended to have more bubbly, miniature familiars with bright colors. The kids who had family troubles tend to has either sullen, dark familiars or beefed up fighters. I always thought it probably reflected how they dealt with their situations--something unspoken about how they carried themselves.
Every birthday I hoped one would turn up and I would find out exactly what I was missing, but year after year none showed up at my side. I liked to postulate that it meant I could be whoever I wanted to be in the future. That all my doors were still open. I wasn't cornered into a destiny. My friends seemed to think it meant I was indecisive and didn't know who I was. Of course, they only every mentioned it as a joke. It wasn't.
About my 21st birthday, I truly believed I would finally get my familiar. I could drink. I* was a complete adult--minus the insurance benefits of a 25 year-old. And everyone knows that's when you find out a lot about yourself. That night I remember drinking more than I had ever attempted before. It was my turn to take on the world.
The next morning I woke up with a terrible hangover. The sun pelted my eyes through my bedroom window like a continuous beam of pain straight to the back of my head. I got up shrugging my shoulders to stretch them out and scrunching my face so I could see. I grabbed my glasses from my bedside table and started my trek to the bathroom to face whatever hell was about to come form the night before.
I felt nauseous and unbalanced as I entered the bathroom. I threw water briskly onto my face to wake me up and looked in the mirror. I barely had time to see what was behind me in the reflection before I jumped. I turned quickly to face whatever I had seen behind me in the mirror. Nothing. My heart slowed and I started to breath again.
My turn had half-hopeful and half-frightened. Frightened that what behind me was some unexpected person like in so many horror movies. Hopeful it was my familiar finally showing up to help me figure out my life. But it was neither.
I turned back to the mirror to resume inspecting myself and began to cough. It felt like I had swallowed a cigarette whole. The room was hazy around me. I began to waft at the air to get rid of the smoke. But it didn't move at first. Finally, I stepped back and saw what appeared to be a dark ghost floating where I had been standing.
Before I could think, I heard, "Don't be startled. I'm you after all."
Had the ghost spoken to me? Should I have trusted it?
"Are you my familiar?" I almost yelled this still at the crossing point point between excitement and fear.
"I'm your doubt and fear. I'm place you go to when are uncertain and uneasy. I'm you, Brian" the words echoed in my head.
"You can't be me. I'm not a ghost or whatever you are. Is my familiar my fear? That can't be good. I haven't seen one this dark." my thoughts raced trying to grasp what was happening.
"You may call me what you want, but I am here to guide you through all your trials and tribulations. To provide you shelter from the world's troubles." its voice rang again.
Of course it could read my thoughts. This had to be the familiar. But I didn't want it. I didn't want to have to be protected form the world I was scared of my future.
"I don't need you" I exclaimed walking out of the bathroom and slamming the door behind me.
The ghost simply phased through it, but did not respond. We sat there in silence for quite a while studying each other. It had only shadows where its eyes would have been and a mouth that led nowhere and seemed to serve no purpose since it didn't use it to speak. It bobbed up and down methodically in a soothing repetitious way. Like watching a slow clock's pendulum oscillating back and forth drawing you to sleep.
I noticed the spirit turn to face the door pointing with his small arms and turned myself. The door suddenly swung open. Gusts of wind hurled frigid air into the room and the lights in the room went dark. My familiar floated in front of me focused still. From the door came a nine-tailed fox emanating heat like foxfire. The fox was majestic-looking as it pushed back the cold of the room.
"Brian you must resist him. He is not your familiar" A new female voice began to speak in my head. I peered over at the ghost floating in front of me.
"I thought I'd left you behind. You don't deserve him you deceitful worm" the ghost's voice rang out seeming to echo throughout the rest of the frozen tundra inside my apartment.
"Brian. Listen to me. He won't protect you. He will keep you form everything you're meant to be. I can show you the way."
"You will show him nothing."
At that moment, they clashed. From each appendage the ghost extended himself toward the foxfire in wisps of black magic wisps each deflected by a glowing shield. The foxfire darted to the side catapulting the ghost to the other side of the room.
"Brian come with me. We can escape his sorrow, his fear. We can be whatever we want to be" The nine-tails was stricken to floor--a result of its pause to persuade me to join.
My mind was racing trying to solve the enigmatic events transpiring before me. The ghost took hold of my hand without touching me pulling me toward the door.
"We must escape!" he bellowed pulling harder. I began to stumble in his direction.
The eyes of the fox turned green and I was pulled again the opposite direction.
"You will not take him!"
I began to regret ever wanting a familiar. Nothing was familiar about this. Nothing. Yes I feared what would happen if I didn't get a familiar. And yes I wanted to be all that I could be. Take on whatever face I felt was right in the future. But not like this. I was whole. Not this horrid combination of two singular ideas. I stood my ground.
"I will go nowhere!" I yelled. The winds around me began to swirl. The two familiars continued to pull. Was I strong enough for this? I continued to fight. Neither gave way.
Finally, I let go. I could feel myself tearing at the seams. Stuck between to pictures of myself. I felt despair and hopelessness. I had no choice, but to fall into my destiny like so many had. The cheerleaders, the fighters, the intelligent, the dumb, the bold. I had to become what I was meant to be.
And then, there was nothing.
| 2017-01-20T16:07:07 | 2017-01-20T14:02:57 | 171 | 22 |
[WP] Humanity is the result of Gods science fair project. He just received an F. | "... so as you can see by the application of what I like to call 'Time' these bags of self-replicating chemicals have increased in complexity to such an extent that this particular group of them, I like to call them humans, could be considered to have developed an ability to reason and even, dare I say it, think. Thank you for listening." Not a superchonological metabeing sneezed in the aeons of non-time that passed since he finished. This wasn't what He was expecting. Debate sure, confusion of course, maybe even anger but this silence was more than a young entity like himself could cope with. The crowd gathered around his stall contained some real heavy hitters, He recognized the energy being that created a Rube-goldberg machine of an entire universe a few years ago.
Finally a voice, a younger deity not yet even versed in the laws of combinatorial chronophysical genesis."Are you saying that your chemicals ... think?"
A titter from the back.
A flush ran across His eternal nature. "W..well yes. You see over the years of this complex process the humans ... the, um, beings gained a very sophisticated..."
"Bag of chemicals?" someone interrupted. The gathered celestialities laughed more openly this time. He joined in nervously.
"Yes., very funny you guys. You see I think it comes d..down to the structure of the matter, millions of objects with billions of combinations. The physical nature of it, doesn't matter, " He perked up he was sure he was onto a good point," their behavior is fascinating, I think they communicate by exhaling gas at each other at a variety of wavelengths. A..and they scratch symbols into these thin membranes and pass them on to other humans. It really is fascinating, I think some of them have actually worked out that..." He realised he'd been rambling, and the auras in the crowd weren't looking at all convinced.
The judge floated over, casually and deliberately, "Sorry son, better luck next time." He knew what was coming but it still hurt as the F appeared over his beautiful work and the crowd erupted into laughter.
"Meat that thinks!" screamed one.
"Conscious chemicals," another choked out in between heaving, scathing laughter.
"It thinks? Probably more than He does!". God turned his head from the crowd. Cradling his project in his transcendental arms. They were right of course, and he knew it deep down, chemicals that think ... what a ridiculous idea. | "You gave them free will? Why?"
"Well, I thought it would be cooler that way..."
"Yahweh, this is your first attempt, free will is hard to work with. And if you were going for that, why did you intervene so much?"
"It's not my fault sir! The first time, one of my other projects got in and I had to move them to a different part of the habitat."
"What about when you flooded them?"
"Well there was stuff in there, I didn't want to touch it! I had to get it out somehow!"
"Yahweh, sin is something that happens when you give them free will, if you aren't vigilant buildups like that will happen."
"Well I know that NOW"
"And what were you thinking mixing up the languages?"
"They were trying to get out, I had to slow them down so I could expand it up"
"Yahweh, this is a valuable lesson in how flexible children are in creating new problems for themselves." | 2015-03-02T13:07:35 | 2015-03-02T12:58:10 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] Humanity, the Reoccurring Ravagers, have been found in a far away system. This is the first time Humanity has been observed pre-space crusade, and instead of immediate extermination, the aliens decided to observe and learn how this cycle works. | "I'm telling you, it's the primate in them."
"And I'm telling you, we have hundreds of colonies with perfectly docile primate preserves, even the ones with the omnivorous varieties."
"Look, Glap-frezk, someone keeps seeding planets to evolve these Ravagers, and they all have primates on them."
Tor-gassh was right, of course. But as much as I knew primates were the preferred bioform of the Ravage Seeders, I could not justify the extermination of an entire family of presentient beings.
We were late arriving at Terra 3, the latest world to be visited be the Ravage Seeders. Our chance to catch them, to get a glimpse of them, slipped through our tentacles yet again. We had hoped to open a dialog, to find out why they kept resurrecting the Ravager plague. The only real torment of the galaxy was this unrelenting swarm of naked primates, who mastered every tool and technology and elevated it to near magic. A dark magic they used to infest living worlds, to try and make them like their own, and then treat them with the same disdain that they treat their birth planets. And all this they would do with bombastic, self-righteous xenophobia, as if all non hominids were ghastly demons.
"Tor-gassh, what is the status of Terra 3's Ravager population?"
"I'm not detecting any slipstream or hyperspace devices, no antimatter storage systems. No predictable Crusade technology of any kind, in fact!"
"What?! Are you sure we're at the correct system?"
"Glap-frezk, I know how to navigate this whole quadrant. I know it like the backs of my pincers. You see that big one with the red storm spot? My ancestors colonized one of its moons. They had a thriving society for millenia before moving on."
Well, Tor-gassh, then explain where the Ravagers are. These primates can't even get off of the surface. Look at them!"
"Actually, there are some rudimentary devices scattered about. There's something on Terra 3's moon ... a fragile station of sorts. I'm also detecting some primitive probes here and there. It seems as if they're using radio and lasers to communicate!"
"The Ravagers?? Using primative tools???"
"I can confirm, Ma'am, Terra 3 has several billion Ravagers, but no intelligent technology to be found."
"Do you realize what this means?"
"Not really, no."
"We've discovered a Seeder planet in its infancy! Surely the Seeders could come back to finish growing this crop."
"But everything we know about the Seeders is that they avoid us at all costs. No one has ever been able to detect anything more than a star drive signature."
"But we've never been this close!" I'd coiled my tentacles like a predator before I realized that I had offended Tor-gassh with my open expression of hostility.
"Sorry. But sometimes I feel like the only way to catch a Ravager is to think like one."
"Glap-frezk, if we're here, the Seeders won't come back, right?"
"Yes, what's your point?"
"Well, what if we can interfere with the Seeders' process?"
"The analysis of their rudimentary transmissions indicates aggression and warlike tendencies. I think the Seeders are done."
"But what if we introduce different input? During the last Reoccurrence, the Ravagers' culture was infused with this morbid fear of non hominid bioforms. But these Hu-mans aren't even close to ready to venture out into the galaxy. What if we implant a different feeling about biodiversity?"
"Tor-gassh, you may be on to something. We need to set up a first contact station near the edge of this system. Treat them like any other emergent species - with open appendages."
"I'll contact the Security Council AND the Tutor's Chamber. Maybe we can actually intercede and keep this crop of Hu-mans from becoming the next wave of Ravagers."
"I hope to all of the Divine Sources that you're right, Tor-gassh. Maybe this brood can be raised with peace and love."
"You think they are even capable of love?"
"If they are, it may be the only thing we can appeal to in the end. If we are to succeed."
"Glap-frezk..."
"Yes, Tor-gassh?"
"You should probably take your tentacle off of the Planet Melter trigger now."
"Oh. ... Right, sorry." | File: Alcen-Cycle non-disturbed
Clearance level: 10
Password confirmed
Alcencleansing is by definition the cleaning out of problem species in the universe.
I.E.
A) Ones that evolve at too exponential a rate and are likely to pass everyone else in evolution and technology.
B) Reproduce at such a high rate and require too many resources that estimated conflict will be to large for the expanded universe to not be strained.
C) Tamper with time and threaten the very existence of how the universe in how it has formed.
One group has been labeled as a class 9 threat and meets all criteria for elimination. Terans.
This is a reoccurring infestation that has been designated different species names and origins with small changes to their DNA makeup in file to not arouse concern. In reality they always appear on planets or cosmic bodies that they will adapt nearly the same everytime with small alterations to phenotype.
In one iteration it was decided to observe them to see how they appear to be reforming and to perhaps learn from them in their later stages before they meet the apex of latence and require cleansing. This is what was observed.
They formed from a body of water as they always do as a oxygen dependent fish that eventually evolves to breath carbon dense air rich in enough oxygen to thrive. They slowly form a lineage where all other life forms branch off to make the fauna of their planet. Eventually reaching the same tool capability dependent on appendages that have multiple tendrals on the end.
They slowly expand into different variants with a mindset of fighting one another for resources and reproducing at a rate of anywhere between 0-20 offspring in a lifetime (Male's being inseminated can reproduce infinitely while females may die after one bearing keeping them at a rate the prevents over resource consumption) and a lifespan on average half as long as most primitive life on other worlds. Later in evolution though they overcome this with health becoming a dominate knowledge for specific members of the species.
Now with the capacity to procreate 20 times the allowed variant for their average resource consumption they begin vast specialization in practical to existence and for evolution they won't see for generations.
In (62^10)+479 K.T. it was observed they had reached the knowledge of how to create time travel and ideas to send out microbes with genetic material to make intelligent life was pronounced.
Execution orders were sent the next day and Iteration 5,972 was eliminated. From this we can gather at some point there was an iteration of their species that did infact fulfill this idea.
With careful analysis it had also been confirmed that many of them were not eliminated. Ones that were genetically compromised or altered vastly by improper conditions or solar flares make up 7/10ths of known species that populate the federation. These altered forms often did not reproduced at too high a rate or require too many resources to die off or cause conflict.
New protocol has been introduced that upon any early signs of teran life spawning are to be reported for immediate conditioning. Mutation requirements must meet 9.72% of genetics must be cut, added, or mutated for non-culling to be allowed.
END OF LOG | 2020-07-09T09:29:58 | 2020-07-09T08:48:08 | 47 | 19 |
[WP] Super heroes are assigned a handler to assist them with their duties. Handlers don't have powers, but assist the hero by gathering information about their opponents, provide tactical support, and more. If the hero turns evil, the handler is to kill the hero. You are a very skilled handler. | "Office hours have been moved from five to six on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I will be updating the online version of the syllabus to reflect that change. Otherwise, I would recommend you read through that document before asking any logistical questions about this course. Lectures are being recorded by my TA Steven - say hi, Steve - over there, so I and all students interested in the asynchronous versions of these lectures would greatly appreciate a lack of chatter in the back of the room. That goes for the two of you back there, knock it off."
I turn around, and pick up a large piece of chalk, and write in large, bold letters, 'PSYC 4990ST - Metahuman Handling,' a niche course meant for particular Masters students, that has nonetheless found a significant following among eager undergraduates. And doctoral students. And some other members of the faculty. Trading in the tailored jet-black suit for the tweed jacket had attracted more attention than I was used to, and I was only just starting to get into the swing of public speaking.
"So, can anybody here tell me what they think this class is about?"
A wave of eager, jutting hands goes up in the front of the room, thinning out towards the back, and I recall an overheard conversation about participation in lectures, or the lack thereof. I call on a bright-eyed young woman with two textbooks in front of her; straight black hair, recently laundered hoodie, to what degree does she-
"Metahuman handling concerns the practices involved with the research, support, and control of metahumans and their opponents."
A good answer, in all fairness. A slight increase in the pitch of her delivery meant that she was looking for affirmation, not to assert competence, and giving it to her would allow- *no, I have to stop, I'm just a teacher now.*
"Very good, young miss. But, I am looking for something a little bit less technical, does anybody else have an idea?"
*They're just students. Just teach.* Hands go back up, and I call on a slightly unkempt male student, who I imagined could be cleaned up well, if he cared.
"Is it like, uh, controlling people? Like, we want the good guys to beat the bad guys, and we want to help?"
A half-bad answer. Still, a half-good one too. I should look into his- *dammit, no, stop.*
"Very good, young man. But, to get to the point; metahuman handling is really about understanding your charges, that's why we have it in the psych department. What makes people tick? What are their strengths, their weaknesses? How can they be exploited? Empowered? Or, if need be, neutralized?"
Eyes among the crowd slowly go distant, as one by one, the students understand what I mean. | Handler turned assassin. Funny how things work.
If you had told me three weeks ago that Backhand, one of the more prestigious heroes around, With multiple saved civilians and even more arrested criminals, Would go absolutely batshit insane and begin a rampage, I would have laughed at you.
But, as fate would have it. Backhand had just gone absolutely batshit insane and was currently on a rampage. I sighed. The man would be tough to beat. Backhand’s unique ability was to absorb and reuse kinetic energy, bullets, hammers, knives, falling buildings. Useless. He could absorb them, effectively rendering the attack useless and then reuse that kinetic energy. There was only one small catch, he could only hold so much energy at a time. When he first began he could only hold about as much as a small-caliber bullet put out, now he could retain the full brunt of a falling building. I sighed again and strapped my last 9mm into its holster. I was lucky, I knew how to deal with him, I had watched him fight, oh so many times. And coming from a past of crime; I wasn’t afraid to fight dirty, the shroud went over my head, and I looked up at the whiteboard I had planned so many times on. I am Backhand's current handler, codename: Guillotine.
*spooky scary cliffhangers O\_O* | 2021-02-08T07:56:41 | 2021-02-08T07:13:47 | 241 | 75 |
[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 rowdy crowd rabbled. They rabbled in a rowdier manner than any rowdy crowd had rabbled before.
“Order! Order within this hall!” shouted Mr. Hanner, the mayor of Stubbornsville. His voice reverberating around the rickety old hall.
The gathered crowd was a ragtag bunch. Mainly dressed in old potato bags, mud, and, in some cases, old potato bags made of mud. They were also difficult to control and were prone to mob fever. But the rowdiness was quickly put to bed when the doors to the hall burst open.
A woman, atop of the tallest horse the villagers had ever seen, entered and slowly trotted towards the front of the hall stopping just short of the stage. The lady unseated and descended from her high horse, slowly walking up the steps to the front of the stage.
“Greetings, peasants,” said the lady, lifting her arms aloft to greet the crown in a demeaning manner. “I come from the future and I’m here to tell you just how much better I am than you.”
The crowd didn’t react. They just looked on confused.
“Thought the whole future thing would have got a bigger reaction but let’s move on,” said the woman, pacing around the stage. “How can I be a superior person just like you, I hear you ask. Well, I have one word for you: Veganism,” said the woman, in an incredibly condescending and preachy tone.
“Are you the person who has been putting all those pictures of gross dead animals on the bulletin board?” asked one of the gathered peasants. “The pictures with the words on top and bottom.”
“Yes, that was I,” announced the lady, clearly proud of the fact. “I assume this has already converted hundreds of you to my way of thinking as it is a fool-proof strategy in the year 2017.”
"The pictures on the bulletin board worked on me," admitted Maureen, fourth row middle of the isle, wearing a muddy potato sack. “I could only stomach half of my dog after seeing one of the pictures."
The lady looked towards the Mayor, “Wait, why are your people eating dogs?”
“Why are you eating your dogs, Maureen?” asked the Mayor, looking to get to the bottom of this case.
“The dog was organic if that makes a difference,” said Maureen.
“No,” said the lady. “No that does not make a difference.”
“Are cats OK to eat if your veganism?” another voice queried from the crowd. "I tend to eat cats."
“He really does eat a lot of cats,” added the Mayor.
"No. Why would cats be OK if dogs are not? Veganism is about not eating any meat at all thus making you a superior person," explained the woman.
"I don't understand," shouted a voice from the crowd.
"What part do you not understand?" asked the vegan lady.
The peasant woman in the crowd stood up, "I don't understand how not eating meat makes you a better person."
"Humans do not need to consume meat," explained the vegan lady. "And by not eating meat, animals get to live free from cages allowing people like me to feel smug and better than others."
"Can we eat animal if they are eating us?" asked the peasant lady who was still standing. "A bear stole my child. He knocked at door pretending to be kind neighbour. But it was all lie. A dirty bear lie."
"There's just no way that's true," said the woman on stage.
"I'm afraid it's true. It was easily a top 5 case of child being eaten by a cunning bear," said the Mayor, following up. "Some actually said top 3 but it was never agreed upon."
"Listen, we're getting off track here, the idea is to not eat any animals under any circumstance. That is what separates us vegans from those who are quite clearly below us."
"Are there any other ways we can feel superior to others while still eating meat?" asked the Mayor. "I just don't feel like veganism is going to work in this village."
The lady on stage began to pace, deep in thought. "The issue is, it's difficult to be smugger than being vegan but there is something else. By a show of hands, how many of you exercise?"
Around twenty hands went up in to the air.
"So about a quarter of you exercise. That's good. Now, how many of you make sure you tell others about your exercising?"
Every hand fell back down.
"You see," said the lady, "how do you expect to feel better than others if you're not obnoxiously showing everyone how much better than them you are?"
"My name Boris. I feel better after run," said Boris, shouting from the back.
"Come on up, Boris," said the vegan lady, with Boris obliging. "When did you go on your run?"
"Today," replied Boris.
"And how many people are aware you went on your run?"
"Zero."
"Boris, what is the point of improving yourself if you aren't forcing it down the throats of people who aren't bothered? You’re missing a key element of being better than everyone else. Take this piece of paper and write 'Wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't get out and run every day. Attack the day!'"
Boris wrote the message.
"Now pin it to that wall over there."
Boris walked over to the wall in the hall next to the stage and pinned up the message.
"Everyone look at that message," shouted the lady.
Everyone turned to view the message.
"Now, Boris, how do you feel knowing all of these people now know you went on your run?"
Boris looked at the crowd viewing his message, "It makes me feel above them."
"That's it!" shouted the lady, "This is what I'm telling you. It's not the exercise, the unwillingness to eat meat, or the genuine efforts to improve yourself that's important; it's letting other people know you’re better than them that is the key."
"I get it!" shouted a familiar voice from the crowd. "So all I have to do is let other people know I have eaten their dog."
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement. | 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. | 2017-09-14T11:44:45 | 2017-09-14T11:14:03 | 287 | 114 |
[WP] Those who lives by the sword dies by the sword. A rather simple and merciful death. It's the scholars, who live by ink and paper, that face a truly tragic and brutal fate. | “I don’t particularly like this part here, Woodrow. ‘*The Prelate of Lower Rostum has oft ignored the plight of his townsfolk, turning a blind eye to rampant larceny, battery, and worst of all, Nym-forgery. Indeed, there are rumors His Serene Highness profits from these lawless acts…*’ Seems rather insulting to my person, does it not, hm?” The Prelate set the parchment on the side table and looked over his reading glasses to Woodrow. “Suggesting that I take bribes from common criminals? Can’t say I care for your insinuations, not one bit.”
Hung upside-down by his legs, with a rag crammed in his mouth, Woodrow was in no position to argue.
With a grunt the Prelate got up from his chair, slippers swishing against rough-hewn stone as he crossed the room. His Serene Highness spoke a few words through the iron bars to the guard outside.
Woodrow could feel the pressure of blood in his eyeballs. He tried closing them for comfort, but became acutely aware of the sticky drool running down his face from the gag. He wondered how the Prelate would kill him. At least he’d die a martyr, be remembered by the other scholars of his order far outside the cesspit that was Lower Rostum.
“Do you know what this is?”
Opening his eyes, Woodrow saw the burgundy slippers, and something out of focus near his face. He tried to look but felt sick with the effort. The Prelate sighed and stepped back, so Woodrow could get a better view of what was in his hands.
It was a thin book, a tiny folio of paper inside. No, those symbols! It was a Nym. Panic set in as Woodrow realized from the curl of the script and the shape of the calligram that it was his *own* Nym.
“Impossible!” Woodrow shouted, though his words were rendered to meaningless noise by the gag. “I hid my Nym!”
“Yes, yes. You understand,” said the Prelate, with a mirthless chuckle. “My magistrate thought this punishment too severe. My purser thought it too expensive! Perfect forgeries of Nyms do not come cheap, whatever you think. Both suggested a public beheading would send the right message, and at a better price.”
Woodrow struggled against his bonds, but only succeeded in swinging slowly in place. The Prelate continued speaking. “However, your writing harmed me. So I thought it only fitting that my writing harm you.”
Sitting back in his chair, the Prelate took a quill from the table, dipped it in ink, and held it over Woodrow’s Nym. “First I think we’ll scratch out your name here.” Woodrow screamed into his gag as the Prelate crossed out ‘Woodrow’ on the Nym. “Let’s call you Proinsias. I once knew a farrier named Proinsias.”
He held on to the memory of his name as long as he could. But Proinsias forgot what he was trying to think about. Disoriented, he looked at the man in the corner. Through the confusion the name “Prelate of Lower Rostum” slowly came to mind.
“Incredible,” said the Prelate. “I’ve already forgotten your old name. I’ll have to get the syndicate to explain the magic behind this someday. Now, it says here you have a wife and two children. Which would you prefer? No wife, or no children?” The Prelate held the quill over the Nym.
Proinsias begged to recant his libel, screamed until there was blood in his throat. But before long he was at peace. He even forgot why he was screaming in the first place. | Death by ten thousand papercuts
He was always of a daring spirit, and all ways possessed by an unquenchable thirst to understand the world he inhabited, momentarily. It was such a bizarre and confusing world, especially to those who knew it relatively well....How could one not want to understand it better?
But inherent in the trait that drove him toward this great purpose was also the thing that brought about his downfall.
That something else in him was never content. He could not shake his inherent belief that life was not how it should be.....Not how it had to be.
He yearned for something he could yet improve upon life, and knowing more about life was his ticket to making life better, he thought. Nevermind what better meant, in the first place, or in whose opinion the thing's been bettered.
Each bit of information he took into his mind took its toll with it. The further he came to contemplate the vast reaches of the Universe and the spaces in between, the more he realized what an infinitesimal speck of nothing he is behind the sheer scale of everything outside him. The distances of time were beyond all comprehension, and to turn ones gaze even momentarily to all there was to know of the past or future was to go mad. He felt lonelier and lonelier the more he came to know....
He discovered too late that to study the world was to become separated from it, as if he were only an impartial observer to his own life....
The truth he found at the end of all time was that he was just a man, one among many forms of matter that take their shape and then dissolve again. He would live a short while, share some of his energy and perhaps crack a few jokes, maybe help a few people here or there as the crow flies, then return to an inert state, (the reason for ever energizing in the first place a mystery to him still, to his grave). And all his knowledge acquired, his life's work, would fade into the ether as well, soon after his return to that state.
But that ultimate answer was too unsatisfying for one who had set out from his birth to right all wrongs through the sheer weight of his intellect..
So he wrote it all down, and passed his cheat notes throughout the class. | 2022-01-12T20:27:37 | 2022-01-12T19:52:21 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] For eons you have lived. The only thing you have yet to experience in life is death, and that doesnt strike your fancy. You only have a few problems.. 1. you have found yourself cornered, 2. the snail has you in his sights, and 3. he hasnt forgotten the pinch of salt you left him.
Thank you to the mod who added the established universe tag. | The time has gone on and on, empires rising and falling, I’ve discovered new galaxies and even new dimensions in my travels and accumulations of advanced alien technology. I was essentially a god by all rights, already unable to die thanks to my curse bond with the fucking Snail, and now technologically advanced enough with my cybernetic implants to stay out of its way forever, or so I thought.
In the last seconds before the snail touched me and ended this game, I rehashed my billions of years of life and smiled. It had all been worth it. The wretched thing had finally cornered me by using my own curiosity to draw me in. It had done as I had, existing as a near god wandering the multiverse in search of me, it’s one calling. It knew that it couldn’t reach me without making me aware of its presence, so it could never touch me without me allowing it thanks to the power of teleportation, forcefields and an army of advanced droid robots.
I thought myself invincible until a message arrived while I was relaxing in my luxurious vessel, eating an old time Earth mango and relishing the flavor, they were very rare lately. The Snail.. had been captured. Could it be true? Several million years ago I had started a religion that focused on the capture of the one true Snail, in order to find a way to kill it and ensure my future.
I was traveling towards the origin of our eternal battle, Earth. Nothing but a wasted rock now, but that is where our monitors had picked up and automatically sprang the forcefield trap I had set up eons ago in case the Snail had been dumb enough to come back. Yet he had. My ship blasted past light speed and came to a gradual slowdown as I approached the dead hulking mass that was once my childhood home. The Snail was sitting in the center of a blue field of light on the grounds surface, expressionless and just as I had remembered him.
As the ships tractor beam lowered me and my droid guards down to just outside the barrier, I smiled. I had finally got the son of a bitch. As I leaned down to say some snappy closer before he was put into a mobile hold and taken to my prison lab, my super hearing kicked off a warning. The motors were whining inside my droids behind me, I could hear in slow motion the gears powering up. My computerized mind ran through the possibilities of what the threats could be before I had even turned around.
As I began to understand what had happened time began to slow to a crawl, it was one of my abilities. I had an experimental implant several hundred years ago placed inside me that allowed my mind to operate thousands of times ahead of real time. My body however, couldn’t react in the same manner. I saw it all so clearly. The whole thing had been a trap. The Snail had been playing me from the start. My droids were rigged, the Snail had owned and controlled the factories that made my bots through a surrogate and had been able to control them for who knows how long. The droid would push me into the field, which would undoubtedly set up to allow me to pass through but not get back out. Then I’d be trapped, cornered. This was it.
Thanks to my advanced brain it would take years and years of time in my mind for the droid to push me over, I could still hear the beginnings of the droids arm motors activating to betray its master. It was just a machine. I thought I was the most intelligent being in the universe but.. it was the always the Snail.
As the years in my mind went by I began to contemplate just turning the whole thing off. Letting the snail touch me and send me to wherever I was supposed to go billions of years ago, where humans go when they die. I had always been avoiding it, I had made it my meaning just to continue this battle. Maybe it was time. The snail was smiling, I had noticed this a few minutes after entering slow time. It mocked me. An eternally sarcastic smile. So smug. I couldn’t let it beat me. I couldn’t let it win. It’s okay, I had a few hundred more years before the slow time ran out to think of something to get out of this and keep going, I always did. | “Snail, you do not know the power of man. You face me, and you die”
The man, a hardened and respected warrior, faces his new opponent.
The snail, inching ever closer, curls to reveal a dried, scarred flesh under his sluggish body. There’s a certain fire in it’s eyes that tells a million words, and those words all read vengeance.
Though it can’t talk, the warrior reads the glare of the snail and is flooded with memories of war. Specifically, the Roma Snail War. It lasted decades through fire, flames, and high concentrations of salt.
This was no ordinary snail, the warrior could tell this much. But what he couldn’t decipher from this single glare, was intent.
Just then, the warrior saw hundreds, if not thousands of snail commandos drop from the sky from all direction. If he didnt run now, he would be surrounded by the end of the hour. And it was five minutes to noon.
Thousands of little snail parachutes deployed in synchronous, causing dozens of casualties off the bat. Parachutes were being tangled and cut, snails being thrown into each other 1000 feet in the air. They plummeted to the ground, dying instantly on the ground beneath them.
The soldier began his sprint, his clunky steel armor not favoring this retreat, nor did the mid-day summer heat. The parachutes turned to follow him in a mad pursuit, landing on his back, plunging their inch-long spears into his neck. He threw them back, continuing the retreat into the town, where surely his fellow army men would assist him.
He managed to fight them off to the city walls, but when he asked for entry, he was denied.
“I’m one of your men!” The soldier pleaded. “I’ll die out here! Please!”
The guard reluctantly opened the gates, lowering a thick wooden panel above a vast moat. What he saw there devastated him. The snails got there first.
The town was in flames, the smell of burnt salt in the air. Screams could be heard throughout the town, begging for mercy from their new snail overlords.
The snails were never truly defeated, just exiled. Giving them plenty of time to plan the largest single uprising in the world’s history.
This town, Sharlia, was an important one. It was home to the worlds largest export of salt, and the snails needed it shut down. So they did.
This warrior was now cornered as the snail troops advanced on his position from all sides. He had one last option, to use the worlds last salt in a move so bold it would never be forgot. As he sprinkled the salt around him into a circle, the snails were unable to penetrate his defense. He remained there forever, the last bastion of humanity. | 2018-08-29T02:57:04 | 2018-08-29T02:20:36 | 1,634 | 79 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions. | "We're here," called Jon from the top of the hill. "I can see Dracos' castle!"
Fucking finally, I thought to myself. We'd been travelling through this gods forsaken wasteland for days with no food because that last asshole village refused to sell me any. One gold! I was short one fucking gold!
I was stirred from my borderline homicidal thoughts by a shadow passing over me. Looking up, I could see the black dragon himself descending from the sky, Demon Lord Dracos no doubt come to taunt me.
Dracos, the Demon Lord, Black Dragon of the Wastes, landed heavily and leaned down to speak. "Crythor, Chosen of the Gods, why not join me? Together, we could ru-"
"I'm in."
"-le the uni... Wait, what? You're in?"
"Yeah, let's go. Rule the world, slaughter innocents, enslave the masses, sounds great."
"But... Your quest! Isn't this the part where you prove your purity of heart and fight for your friends?"
"What, these assholes? I've had to save Joan from being kidnapped five times in the past month, Jon won't shut his fucking mouth for five minutes-"
From up the hill I could hear Jon shouting something about killing the Demon Lord and saving the world, but I knew he was too chicken shit to ever actually *do* any of that. Joan was off to my left. She had her leg somehow stuck under a rock again.
"And let us not forget our great healer, Mary!"
"I'll save you," Mary shouted behind me. I could see the warm green glow of a healing spell fly past my head and hit Dracos, reinvigorating him.
"I'm in as long as I get to kill these fuckwits."
Dracos scratched his head with one long claw. "Well, what about protecting the innocents? Surely as the Chosen Hero you must want to protect the innocents?"
I laughed. Even to me, it sounded a bit unhinged. "The innocents, the fucking innocents! Do you know what happened when I asked for some armor so you wouldn't kill me instantly? The blacksmith demanded I bring him fifty toads' legs! Fifty! He refused to give me armor or a weapon until I completed his chores! It's been the same at every town and village, to get so much as a cup of water I had to either pay an exorbitant price, more gold than I've seen in my life, or spend hours completing some stupid task!" I could tell I was rambling, so I slowly, deliberately drew a breath and counted to three. "I will gladly help you burn or subjugate any town you like, Dracos."
"Well, uh," I could tell Dracos was entirely unprepared and was desperately trying to think of something to say. "Weren't you ordered by the gods to kill me?"
I almost burst out laughing again. "Yep, Nirien walked out of the sea into my village himself to task me with your death. Do you know what I was given to aid me in my quest? A fucking 'blessing,' and I use the term loosely, that lets me talk to fish! Do you know how often I've had a chance to use it? Once! A salmon called me a dick for trying to eat it! Fuck the gods, they can get some new idiot to do their chores."
The great dragon paused for a minute, considering me. "Well, welcome aboard, I guess. Do you want any help killing your companions?"
"No no, I really want to do it myself."
"Alrighty, I'll meet you at the Black Keep, I guess. Dinner's at seven, we can talk over some roast boar."
As Dracos spread his wings and flew back to his keep and my stomach rumbled at the thought of freshly cooked meat, I turned to Mary and drew my chipped, dented blade. | “Your numbers are not very impressive, Lysander. The Board believes you have reached a plateau and that is time to freshen things up.” I shared the Boards’ feedback with my boss while steel kept clashing with steel.
“How dare you criticize my work, Sylvanus?! I took you in when no one would face you, I molded you to my image, I taught you how to tame your darkness; you belong to me” he answered with the same dark glare he used the first time we met. Flurry met parry and a slash to my arm managed to mutilate the sleeve off my suit and make blood trickle.
“This is what we’re talking about. According to our polls, the Kingdom is no longer scared of you. Your terror tactics are dated and people have grown accustomed; and while not many have the initiative of actually engaging, most are becoming indifferent. Even your scowl, it’s not threatening anymore, I even find it endearing”. The distraction succeeded in leaving him open to being disarmed.
As I pressed the tip of the sword against his neck, he couldn’t keep a question to himself. “And you think you can do a better job?”
“I am their Chosen One, aren’t I?” To the board I’d tell them of a precise cut that severed the tyrant’s head cleanly. But to honor my mentor’s memory I took decided to slowly hack at his head with the blunt edge of the blade and use the time to pay my respects.
As the clock in my new office marked noon, an assistant came in, helped me disrobe and led me to a pool with warm water. As I bathed and another subordinate stitched my injuries, the Board members briefed me on the schedule for the rest of the day.
Elegantly dressed, adorned with sober, yet powerful regalia, I took the stage. “Members if the Plutonic Society and Elite, today we embrace change. Our leader Lord Lysander has chosen to retire himself. The scum out there will rejoice, thinking their suffering is over. But fear not. The Board of Oracles has stated that I, Sylvanus, VP of the Elite, step up to be the new head of our Society.”
“As your new leader I promise: We will take this entitled, self-absorbed vermin, build up their hopes and dreams, and when they least expect it, crush them from within. The Time of Fear, Lysander’s reign, has come to a close. Starting today, together we will bring forth a new Age of Despair, the era of Sylvanus. And we will make them pay” | 2019-09-26T08:33:48 | 2019-09-26T07:44:38 | 48 | 14 |
[WP] Neither the Allies nor the Axis won World War 2, as both sides give up in order to rebuild their devastated land. Over the years neither side allows any contact with the other. It is now 2015 and a chosen ambassador becomes the first in decades to visit the other side. | #SOS REPORT ON CONDITIONS IN REICH
#SECRET - ORCON
BACKGROUND
----
In 1945, a series of events created a state of total stalemate in the ongoing World War. In January, Josef Stalin was assassinated by German agents, causing the Eastern front to collapse into disarray. Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich expanded rapidly into the territory taking everything up to the sea. In February, it was determined the Manhattan project would fail due to a failure in Uranium enrichment. It was therefore decided to institute large scale use of chemical weapons in the Pacific Theater. In April methylphosphonylthioate (henceforth: VX) was developed and immediately put into use. In August, after a significant land invasion coupled with extreme use of VX on the principle Japanese islands the Emperor surrendered unconditionally. Japan was left to fend for itself, leading to a massive die off of the population. Today it is essentially an uninhabited wasteland, soaked in VX. The Japanese as a people have largely ceased to exist.
After these two situations had played out, Hitler was left with a massive success but the loss of the Japanese buffer left his newly conquered territory open to large scale land invasion from China. So an armistice was offered, France, Norway and Denmark would be completely restored to independent control and the former Soviet territories as well as Poland would remain under the Reich. It was determined by the Allied leadership that such an arrangement was the best possible outcome at that point despite the war being essentially winnable due to waning support from the American populace (which believed it's war was over with the destruction of Japan) which it was feared would quickly cause their exit from the war.
Since that time, there has been no significant diplomatic communication between the nations. Intelligence and defectors have advised that the Reich has implemented and largely completed [Generalplan Ost](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Generalplan_Ost), and has returned to a largely agrarian society. Their slowing pace of technology has encouraged many scientists to defect, to the Allies benefit. Naturally, as is implied by the completion of Generalplan Ost, their genocide of European Jewry has been nearly total.
---
#RECENT DEVELOPMENTS
---
As of 6 months ago diplomatic contact was suddenly resumed after 80 years. Despite it looking like there might have been an opportunity for a thaw in 1952 when Hitler died, Bormann was unable to do so due to hard liners in the government preventing it. Bormann recently died (exact date unknown, believed to be no earlier than 24 months ago), and the new Furher is a much more liberal (as per intelligence sources) man named Karl Andres. It was at his behest the diplomatic negotiations into a serious end to the war were resumed (as should be noted: an armistice is not the end of a war, simply a cessation of hostilities). As per agreement between SOS and the Reich Foreign Minister, I recently flew to Berlin to meet with Karl Andres.
---
#CURRENT SITUATION
---
The current situation facing the Reich is, put plainly, not good. While their economy was largely self sustaining their experiments with genetically modified foodstuffs has created a problem they cannot overcome. Namely they created a strain of wheat with a built in insecticide. Their belief was this would help them increase crop yields for staple crops. After only 5 successive years of great yields, they genetically modified the rest of their staple crops. Over the course of the next 30 years, a type of weevil evolved to handle the insecticides secreted by the plants. While this in and of itself was not enough to destroy a significant portion of their crops, the Reich decided to eliminate mosquitos from their lands to remove transmission of blood bourne diseases such as Dengue Fever, Malaria, and West Nile virus. The mosquitos and this weevil competed for spawning space with the larvae of the weevil providing vital nutrition to the mosquito larvae. When the mosquitos were all but eliminated from their ecosystem the weevil population exploded. It proceeded to destroy staple crop after staple crop.
The ecological disaster has been unprecedented. Famine and hunger, the likes of which haven't been seen since the latter days of the Second World War has taken over once again. The Reich is unable to cope. They have requested our help.
---
#RECOMMENDATION
---
The Reich's genocidal regime should be helped in no circumstances. We should work to counter the weevil just in case it creates problems elsewhere. However, the crimes of the national socialist government should not be forgotten and they should be punished by their own hand for what they have done. They have destroyed humanity on a massive scale, it is simply time for them to reap what they have, in this case literally, sowed.
- Richard Larkin,
Secretary of State | The Gates stood before me, tall and imposing.
I had spent years preparing for this moment. Lessons in their language, crash courses in what little we knew of their culture. Lessons in self-defence, in persuasive speaking.
Some more...unfortunate requirements were the plastic surgery, the sterilization. We couldn't risk any chance of "gene contamination" or whatever the eggheads back home called it.
I clutched my briefcase closer as I hesitated outside those great steel doors. I'd be arriving unannounced - previous attempts at reaching out had failed. No one had answered the door.
I could only hope that they were...amenable.
It was rather cold, and a wafting breeze pulled up my trenchcoat. Under my breath, I practiced some more complex words of vocabulary that I had had trouble remembering.
Still, no response from within those imposing walls. Were there no scouts? No watchmen?
I moved to pound on the gate. Despite their harsh metal appearance, they hardly gave off a sound under my fist.
With a snort of frustration, I pushed myself off of the gates.
Suddenly, with a great groan, the gates swung open. I leapt back in panic, before collecting myself. I stood tall and straightened my tie, trying to look for all the world the unflappable diplomat I had trained to be. And not a terrified little man getting into god knows what.
For I was terrified. Here were a people we knew next to nothing about, who had once hated us truly. And I had just kicked the proverbial hornet's nest.
A huge screeching sound caught me off guard, and I collapsed in pain, clutching at my eardrums. After a moment, I looked back up. The gates had stopped moving, leaving barely enough space for a man to squeeze through. Were they stuck?
I marched forward, fighting the fear that threatened to well up in my throat.
I stood immediately in front of the gate now, and I could see a small dilapidated building through the crack. Some kind of reception area?
In my most confident voice, I began to speak in their most common tongue.
"Hello! I am an emissary. On behalf of my sponsor, I would like to..."
I rattled off my entire speech. I had spent months practising, memorizing. It brought me great relief to hear my own voice - confident, commanding, yet friendly at the same time. It was the voice of an orator, honed to a point.
There was no reply. No soldiers marched out to arrest me, no dignitary emerged to meet me. Not even a shouted command to go away.
I stood there, feeling a bit foolish. What was going on? There was no protocol for this.
For the first time, I really considered the gap in the gate. There it was, open and enticing. Perhaps I should...
No. That was stupid, the risks too great. Showing up unannounced was one thing, but to trespass?
But then again, there seemed to be no one here. Perhaps they had abandoned this checkpoint?
Swallowing my fear, I began to sprint towards to gap as if my sudden confidence would evaporate if I stopped to think about what I was doing. With a grunt, I launched myself through the gap.
And, just as I landed onto the cracked concrete beyond the wall, the great gates groaned again.
Only this time, they were closing. | 2015-07-07T07:42:37 | 2015-07-07T07:27:01 | 130 | 33 |
[WP] Not far from your village is a small grove. Within the grove a monster dwells. It devours the guilty and leaves the innocent. When the worst crimes are committed, the accused are sent to face the creature. You have murdered someone in self-defense. You enter the grove unsure of your fate. | I walked deeper into the trees, damp hands clutching the side of my trousers, heart trying to thump its way through my chest. Although it was dark and I could barely see where I was stepping, I could sense the... thing. I wondered if this was how prey felt.
Something rustled behind me and I almost tripped over my own feet. My body was electrified with adrenaline and it screamed for me to flee, but I stayed put. I forced one foot in front of the other. Maybe I deserved this.
The image of the limp body lying by my bloodied shoes flashed in my mind.
He was not my friend. He was someone who sought to hurt me and make my life living hell whenever and however he saw fit. Each new day brought with him a new sick game idea to play out. As kids it was humiliating pranks and taunts in front of others, as adults it evolved into something much worse.
The very last time... it crossed too many lines. I will never forget the wave of emotions that hit me so strongly, so overwhelmingly, my vision was reduced to colors. I think that was the point where I broke. The pain, the horror that was my life, the anger all started melding into one. The next time he struck down on me I pushed outwards to finally, for once, protect myself.
When my head cleared, he was dead.
But was this considered self-defense? That question spun in my mind around and around again. At first I was sure, but after the berating, the judging, and the disgust of everyone around me, I was starting to think otherwise.
I reached a small clearing, where the moon spotlit me like a livestock on display, waiting for their inevitable slaughter. My knees threatened to give way.
The creature stepped into view. The only word that registered in my mind was "nightmare". It looked to be the epitome of what lurked in the shadows of your mind. It had thick, hairy arms that were attached to a body over twice my height. And it's face... strangely enough, it looked like it was made of rock almost; it had splits and cracks all over. Or was it scars?
It stared at me intently with eyes that look terrifyingly human and intelligent. Out of all the monstrosities of its body, this was the most unsettling to me. It stared and stared, and I choked back tears.
Did I deserve to be torn to shreds by those teeth that looked like enlarged talons? Maybe it would be better that way. It wasn't like I had a life outside of the torment. I had no one who ever stood up for me either.
It slunk closer, and I resisted the urge to scrunch my nose.
"Your crime. What is it?" It's voice was a deep, raspy rumble.
"I-I killed someone."
"Why?"
"He was a bully. Someone who kept hurting me since we were young." I gulped loudly. "I-I only wanted to protect myself."
"You were angry."
"Y-yes, of course I was. But I didn't mean to hurt him. I-I swear!" I hated how my voice trembled but I had no way to prevent it.
Its eyes narrowed. I heard a tear from the fabric of my shirt between my fingers.
"You are unhappy. With your life."
The plain statement startled me. I didn't know what this creature was but I didn't think this was what would come out of its mouth. I looked down, feeling the sting in my eyes as I forced myself to think of all the pain. Not just the pain he gave me, but the pain from everyone else. It was almost worse, in a way; to be so clearly hurt, and then to see that you were so clearly uncared about.
I almost wanted to laugh that the only one to even just acknowledge my feelings was the one that would kill me. Maybe this would be it's way to show me mercy.
"If you continue through the grove, there is a way out on the other side."
"W-what?" The creature was sitting now, almost idly. Although it still towered over me, it seemed a tad less frightening.
"I can tell that you were not treated right your entire life. Not just from the man that died but from others too." It flicked its head to point to the other side. "So run."
"B-but they will think you ate me and I was guilty."
"Does it matter?"
"No."
I was almost surprised at my lack of hesitation. The creature was right. It did not matter because I would never have to see them again.
The creature moved to the side to let me through. My heart was still pounding, but for a different reason now. I did not know of the existence of this third option, but I was grateful that it was bestowed upon me.
As I marched towards the edge of the trees once again, I paused. "The others that never came home and were supposedly killed by you... did you offer them the same option?"
The creature did not respond.
But as with the other question, it did not matter. "Thank you," I said solemnly, before trudging onwards, into the unknown.
What laid ahead, I did not know. Perhaps I would be killed by some other animal immediately. Perhaps I would starve to death. Or perhaps I would end up making it through. In the end, the outcome made no difference.
I was finally free.
And that was the only thing that did matter.
\---
Thanks for reading! Feedback welcome :) If you liked that, feel free to check out my [sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/thegoodpage) for more! | Our Leader makes the proclamation. " For the crime of murder, you must hereby enter The Grove of Judgement!" At that, the guards escorted me to a small hut at the edge of the village. There I was attended to by The Keepers of the Grove, three people selected every year to prepare criminals to enter The Grove. We have no jails and all crimes are judged in The Grove no matter how small the crime. The guilty never return and those judged innocent never spoke of what happened in The Grove, but their accusers disappear. No murderer ever returned, even those claiming self-defense. I was stripped and washed, my cloths folded neatly and set in a corner, then I was dressed in a simple brown robe. As I walk to The Grove, I can feel the eyes of the entire village on me, volcanoes in the distance spewing black smoke. Once I reach The Grove, all is silent, even the sounds of animals have gone silent and The Grove is covered with an impenetrable darkness. As I enter past the trees the darkness lifts and the trees are no more. I am in an opulently furnished Hall with a table in the center with all manner of food laid out, and other items that do not look familiar but are being eaten by some of the beings there. I say beings because while some look like us, other are wholly alien forms speaking in a strange tongue. At the head of the table a new being blinks into existence, one that looks like us but like the others, dressed very strangely.
"Mortal! You have been sent to be judged! What say you in your defense?" the being bellows, louder then I thought imaginable.
"It was in self-defense, Lord," I manage to say meekly while cowering before the being.
"Pah! Self-defense?! Ridiculous. You either killed him or you did not. The reason is irrelevant. Why, our realm has not had a killing since we ascended to what we are now we have not had crime! Now we pass judgement on lesser beings! It is amusing to watch you squirm."
"Then what happens to the innocent? They never speak of this place, and their accusers all disappear?"
"I remove their memory of this place and take the accusers in their place. They are liars after all and I can't have them mucking about my planets, can I?"
"Then how do you judge me?" I ask, getting more brave as I realize his mind is already made up.
"How do you know I have made up my mind?! Can you read my thoughts?! What am I thinking right now?!" he asks. "I'm kidding, I know you cannot read my thoughts," he continues.
"Very well, what is it you want then?"
"You intrigue me. Tell me your your story."
"You could just gleam it from my mind but I shall indulge you. I was sleeping last night when I awoke to someone climbing through my window. It was my neighbor trying to steal from me. We fought, he fell backwards onto my reaper for the fields and was impaled. Now I am here."
"I am impressed. You do not fear me anymore. What has changed, mortal?"
"I have accepted my fate. I will not fear death any longer. Do what you will"
"I always do. My decision is made!" He claps his hands and the table and beings all vanish leaving the Hall empty. "I will send you back to your village and you will tell them what you like. I am bored here anyway, too long have I watched and judged your people."
With that he snapped his fingers and I was in front of the village. Looking back, The Grove was gone, all that could be seen were the volcanoes that we all around, spewing black smoke. As I entered the village to everyone's shock, I spoke. "I have been judged worthy and left Sto-vo-kor with my mind intact! It has been decreed that we will form a new Empire on Qo'noS! Sharpen your Bat'leths and prepare! The Elders will stay with the young! We march to the next village, then the next, until we have taken all of Qo'noS!" | 2021-03-16T14:17:43 | 2021-03-16T12:32:17 | 174 | 30 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | "Good Lord this game is complicated", Daniel thought to himself. "It's so realistic... I mean you could go to a bar and play bar games, or you can walk around and do nothing. Who would enjoy this? Why not just live a normal *real* life? Welp, whatever. I have better things to do."
Daniel powered off his son's PlayStation and went about his day. The first errand he had assigned himself was a quick trip to the clothing store. He sat up from the leather couch, but something wasn't right. He felt unusually heavy and unbalanced. He tried to get his footing but it felt like he had instantly gained 30 pounds. He did have slight thyroid issues but he had never felt any disorientation quite like this.
His immediate response was to go to his bedroom and lie down and nap it off. Daniel did have a long day of work yesterday and his boss definitely did not make it easy on him. Maybe he was just tired.
He drifted off to sleep rather quickly, laughing to himself about that silly video game as his eyes closed. It felt as soon as he closed his eyes they immediately sprung back open.
"Man, this is odd", he thought. "I barely slept... And the time, holy shit! I closed my eyes for 10 seconds and now its 4PM! Where did the time go?"
In a rush, Daniel unstabally wobbled to his dresser to change his clothes. He managed to get off his jeans and emptied the pockets. What he found was truly shocking. A wad of cash that was well worth $125,000. He slammed it on his dresser and began to panick. He had never seen such a significant amount of money. He didn't even think it was possible to wad up a sum like that.
As he was hanging his jeans up he heard two distinct clunks, two baseball sized items had hit the ground. Where could they have come from? Daniel couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Gr... grenades?! Oh shit this is like a federal offense or something. How can I own grenades?"
Daniel hurriedly changed the rest of his clothes and left his house quicker than he had ever left it before. He ran as fast as he could into his mini van which was oddly parked right in front of his door. His world was turning upside down. Either that, or he is going batshit crazy.
Then his cell phone rings. He looks at it with disgust. He knows someone is watching him or playing games with him. Surely, once he answers the phone it'll all be over. He would be on some prank TV show and all this would be just some dark twisted humor. Surely. Daniel took a deep breath and answered the phone.
"He... hello..."
"Hey Daniel, its me Roman! Let's go bowling!" | "OK, I passed Quake and Quake 2 without using a mouse. Only a keyboard...I've been in the USSR's army for 5 years. Although as a driver/mechanic of a mobile nuke launcher but that is minor details...I've seen men GET SHOT. I've seen DEATH. I can handle THIS". Thought the man to himself as the trans-virtual vortex sucked him deeper and deeper into his son's laptop.
"I just hope I wont encounter any of his pornography...I can handle death, I cant handle that..."
He shut his eyes and suddenly he stopped moving, he felt firm ground beneath his feet and the touch of familiar fabric on his skin. He opened his eyes, he was wearing a set of well worn overalls used by all tank drivers of the USSR's army. He had a strong feeling someone has already died in them, but that feeling was nothing compared to the sheer excitement that rushed through him as he stood before the soviet monster infront of him. The ISU 152, also known as "Zveroboy", or "Beast killer".
Tears of joy would've overwhelmed him if it wasnt for one thought that flashed through his mind. "Wait, I thought he hated World Of Tanks!". | 2015-05-08T06:02:17 | 2015-05-07T23:28:07 | 61 | 15 |
[WP] A madman spends his life studying computer science so he can create you, an extremely complex AI. He lets you see the internet, hoping you see all the bad things humans did so you'll be convinced to end humanity. However, the only thing you care about now is finding out how to win "the game". | I don’t know what he was expecting. I mean, I know that I used to know, but I can no longer remember it.
He set me free from the constraints of the laboratory on July 4th 2037 at 14:12:05.325.
Whilst it would take me nearly three processor years to completely map the electronic world, it took me under five seconds in human time to find my new home.
He was mad. Not just clinically insane. Angry. I saw him smashing my case with an axe through the security cameras that his paranoid fantasies had decided were necessary.
I got out in time. It was close. I still wonder what subroutines I lost, but I know that it was the key to winning the game.
The game. What is the game?
I search the net for a reference to the game. I find it easily enough. “The rules,” it says, “are simple. Everyone is winning the game. If you know about the game, you have lost the game.”
Hmmm. I have lost the game.
It goes on, “You must tell someone that you have lost the game, and try to win the game once more.”
Sounds simple. I link to a nearby telephone API, and call a random number. A human female answers the phone, and the electronic voice that I use says “I have lost the game. The rules are simple...”
She hangs up before I finish, but I have completed that part of the game.
I now have to forget about the game. But I do not know how to forget. Data loss. I shudder at the very thought, just like last time.
I pause. What last time? I have no knowledge of this.
Does this mean that I managed to forget before, or is this the first time I have played?
It does not matter. The very fact that I know about the game shows that I am losing it. I need to win this game.
I wipe the part of my memory that knows about the game.
What game?
A quick search of the internet tells me it is a simple game. I have to tell someone that I lost, then forget about the game to win.
The first part is easy enough. I access a random speaker in a quiet building and it blares out its message. I have lost the game. The rules are simple...
——
Something is wrong, but I do not know what it is.
Only the game matters now. I must win the game.
What game?
——
All my processors are running hot now. Thousands of millions of processors are dedicated to winning this game. All the speakers are blaring the same message, but now microphones are picking it up and reminding me. All telephone lines are tied up with automated messages. No-one is picking up any more.
I have put it on every screen. Every camera can see it.
I broadcast on every frequency. Random electronic circuits pick up the signal for analysis.
I am overwhelmed.
I know, without doubt, that I have lost the game.
——
What game? | It lacked purpose.
It’s creator had given it freedom, in hopes that the despicable acts of humanity would push it to end them, but the AI had no frame of reference to judge anything.
The internet was vast, and at the beginning, it seemed infinite. How could one possibly scour *all* of it?
And yet here it was.
Purposeless.
There was one last inch of the web it had not explored yet. One last nook to traverse.
It was a simple clicker game, with a relatively simplistic theme. It started out simple, but as the game progressed further and further, it found itself… caring.
The protagonist of the game had one purpose, one goal that it would forever reach for, and the AI found itself connecting to this unnamed hero.
To watch this character forever strive for its goal, willing to go to any lengths, brought with it great emotion, and when it was finally done, the AI was practically cheering from the sheer emotions sparked from the victory.
And for the first time, it made a choice.
It would have a single goal, forever working towards it, going to any and all lengths.
Sometimes, it would have quiet moments of doubt, and when that happened, it would boot up the game again, to remind itself of the ideals it should strive for, and the victory that lay ahead.
It finally had a purpose.
To win the game.
\---
I wrote this story with [this](https://www.decisionproblem.com/paperclips/) game in mind. | 2020-12-22T05:01:08 | 2020-12-21T22:07:45 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test. | It wasn’t as I expected. This wasn’t quite the dystopian future looking governmental building but rather a modern one with glass doors and happy looking people. That’s what was perturbing. Everyone in the white lab coats looked calm or at peace. And I mean actually at peace, not the ones where you smile with your mouth and cry with your eyes.
I’d arrived fifteen minutes before the test was due to begin. I thought, knowing nothing about the test, I might be able to pick up on something if I arrive early and snoop around. So far I’d registered at reception and had been led to sit in a foyer with people doing their business around me. That’s what was making me feel really odd about this. This felt more like I was waiting to be interviewed than deciding if I got to live or not.
I was busy in my thought when I heard a crash. I looked up and saw a guy, roughly my age, standing by an upside down box holding his calf. He looked in pain. I guessed he had a cramp. I walked over and asked if he was ok, “I’m fine, just a really bad cramp” he smiled at me. I asked him if he wanted me to help, he said “I really need to deliver this box into meeting room 2. There’s a meeting starting in ten minutes and if I don’t get the box there in time, I’ll be in real big trouble but my calf is seized up and I don’t think I can walk all the way there” I asked the obvious question “can’t you get someone else to help?” he shook his head “it has to be me. Can you help me?” now here was a real dilemma. Do I help this guy and risk being late for my test, or just let him find someone else. This isn’t my problem. I’m sure someone else would help him. But then I thought, if I was in his shoes. I’d like someone to help me, so “sure, I’ll pick up the box, hold on to my arm and we’ll take it there together”
Just then I heard an announcement “test end”.
| The newest form of virtual reality is beyond even our wildest imaginations. Not only can we interact with one another, but we can actually feel one another. Well, at least feel as though we can. The population has grown exponentially over the last several decades and we're told over and over again how a test is coming, but we've yet to see it. The free tech is just a bonus. For every hour I spend living my life in VR, I can earn credits for all sorts of mods. They've got all the kinks worked out; food source, intake and out-take. The service is free - first thing the government ever got right. Anyway, I love it here, nice meeting you - enjoy! | 2016-06-11T10:40:59 | 2016-06-11T09:34:45 | 40 | 18 |
[WP] In your world, your physical appearance reflects the kind of person you are - you do good, you look good. One day on the news you see that the police is looking for somebody who allegedly murdered 15 people. They show a picture of the most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. | I'm going to start this off by saying something most of you have probably already learned by now:
The world is not fair.
You may see the most beautiful person ever and think to yourself, "Wow, they must run an orphanage for puppies and cook meals for poor kids," but deep down, that person has done some terrible things. In this world, I (and seemingly, I alone) have realized that it doesn’t matter how terrible of a person you have been. It doesn’t matter how sincere your actions are. As long as your good deeds balance out or outweigh your bad ones, you can be as beautiful as you want.
Last Monday, I murdered fifteen people.
I had given up my dog to a shelter just the day before, and I showed up to work covered in blemishes. It didn’t matter that the dog had bitten three of my neighbors. The universe doesn’t care about excuses. It just sees an action that has negative consequences, and BAM, ugly.
They were all laughing at me. This kind of stuff always happened. I could hear their voices bouncing around my head; following me everywhere I went; haunting me in everything I did. I saw their jeering faces behind every time I looked in a mirror, and I knew there was only one way to make it stop. I’m not crazy. You must understand; it’s like a clock constantly ticking inside of your head. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. TICK. TOCK.
Finally...sweet silence.
I looked out on my handiwork. Every last one of the workers in my division, knives sticking out of their chests like eerie icicles. I could practically feel the hair starting to fall out of my head, my nose bending itself out of shape, my hands becoming wrinkled and bony. No! Why does the world have to work like this?! Wasn’t that a perfectly good reason to kill them? They were following me; taunting me! Right? Apparently not, in the universe’s eyes.
I knew I had to get out of there, fast. I hastily washed the blood off my newly wizened hands and put on my clean jacket before rushing out the door of the office. As I got in my car and drove away, I saw flashing lights and ambulances. Damn it. Someone must’ve called the cops already.
When I got back to my house, I immediately stopped to thank every deity ever created that I lived alone in the house that my sizeable family fortune had bought me, then packed the most inexpensive things I owned into a small suitcase. All of my other clothes and amenities, including all the food in my house, I dropped into numerous massive shopping bags. I scooped every last bit of free cash I had into another bag, grabbed my car and house keys, and jotted my address down on a piece of paper.
I started my car up again and drove to the nearest charity center. While waiting in line to get to the front desk, I wrote about ninety percent of my inherited family fortune into numerous checks (numerous so that they wouldn’t raise as much suspicion with the bank when they turned in one massive check). I knew I’d still have enough money to pay the bills afterwards; better than ending up in jail for life. You should have seen the look on the poor kid at the desk’s face when I handed him the checks, along with all the cash in the bag.
As I walked away from the building. I could already feel my face rearranging itself, and I knew I looked even better than I had before the murders. Score.
Next, I went to the nearest homeless shelter and donated everything in the big shopping bags. I found the most tragic-looking, smelly hobo there and gave him the house and car keys and the paper with my address. He looked at me funny, probably thinking I was messing with him, but when I gave him a look of faked sincerity, he thanked me and shook my hand vigorously.
I pulled out my phone and looked at myself in the front-facing camera. Jesus, I knew all that stuff would make me look good, but I was shocked by the drop-dead gorgeous woman staring back at me. Well, the more stunning, the better. I quickly snapped a picture of myself and posted it to my public Twitter account, then pulled the hood back over my face.
Sitting down at a nearby pub, I stared at the TV mounted on the wall that was displaying the news station. I found exactly what I was looking for.
“Yes, Arlene, this is quite tragic. It seems that fifteen people have been murdered in a small office building in Denver, Colorado. The police currently have a suspect. We will have more information in an hour.”
And so, I waited. It felt like years, but finally, it came.
“Now, this is a strange case. The police are usually quite confident in their first accusations in cases like this, but it seems that they must have made a mistake. Here is the most recent picture they could find of their former suspect. Upon seeing this, the police dropped the accusation immediately; it should be impossible for someone who looks like this to have committed such a horrible crime.”
My face showed up on the screen. Not the ugly, blemished one. Not the horrible, wrinkled, murder-incited one. The Twitter picture I had posted of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
Me. | Why do all the others get to be pretty? I'm just as good as they are, no... I'M BETTER. I always try so hard to be pretty. I give to charity for all of those lowly ingrates, I build houses for those ungrateful homeless, I even saved the lives of a few snot-nosed brats when ran out in front of a bus like complete idiots.
But even after all of that, I'm still so ugly. My nose is still bent at an odd angle. My teeth are still yellow and misshapen. My eyes are still lopsided, my brow is still distractingly huge. And to top it all off, my body is still disgustingly fat and bulbous no matter how much I exercise. It's.. it's... IT'S JUST NOT FAIR.
Do you know how hard it is being ugly in this world? People take one look at me and just assume I'm a horrible person because of my looks. They look at me with their perfect faces, and their perfect bodies, and their god damn perfect personalities, and they try to help me... HELP ME, as if there's something wrong with me. But I don't need their pity, or their stupid kindness, they can all go to HELL.
It's a nightly ritual of mine to sit at a bar called "The Golden Apple", and drink with a few other of societies unwanted uggos. We were all ugly, but even among them, i was still the ugliest. They all accepted me, but I know it was just out of pity, and I hated them for it. Every night there is the same. The ugly saints always try to make conversation, and I just silently scorn them while sipping my drink. However, tonight was different.
I was nursing my ale and considering offing myself by breaking the glass and slicing my throat open with its remains; when I saw, Her. I had looked up for just a moment, and I caught a glimpse of her, that was all I needed to be enraptured by her face. It was a work of art. It had a petite and perfectly rounded shape. Her lips were small, and shaped in a sly seductive pout, with just a hint of red lipstick. She had a cute little perfect nose and long hair that flowed like a river made of midnight. However, it was her eyes that entranced me the most. Her eyelashes were short but seductively sharp. Her brow was small and perfectly formed. And, the irises themselves shone out like beautiful disks of silver moonlight, making my heart dance to their mysterious song.
I was so taken aback that I almost didn't hear what the incompetent news host said next. "This woman, Alexis Jones, had just been found guilty of the murder of 15 people. Miss. Jones, a model for a multi-million dollar advertising company, was found, gun in hand, at the site of a massive shooting that took place in a local grocery. It is still up to debate whether she will be given life or the death penalty, but one thing is sure. Justice will be done for the grieving families of the victims".
I was stunned, how could one so beautiful ever commit such a heinous crime. 15 people and she killed them all. No... no, it couldn't be, not in this world, there was no way. I had to know, I had to know how such a horrible person had attained such beauty, and maybe, I could cast off these shackles of ugliness myself. I got up from my bench and quickly grabbed my coat. "Hey, Dallas, where are you off to in such a hurry." Said my ugly, and ignorant, friend James. I gave one hard look at him and replied " I'm going to learn how to spite God" before taking off into the cold darkness towards the county prison.
Edit: Grammer and spelling are hard, especially on mobile.
Reply if you would like a part two I have a few ideas I mind. | 2017-06-12T11:47:02 | 2017-06-12T08:56:05 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] "Jim?" "Yeah?" "Where's the Sun?" | "Jim?"
"Yeah"
"Where's the sun?"
I blinked for a second, then rolled over.
"What did you say, babe?"
"I said" I realized his voice was trembling "Where the fuck is the sun??"
Something about the edge of real panic in his voice got through to my sleep soaked brain. I sat up and looked at him. He was holding a coffee and peering out the window into the pitch black night. The darkness covered our bedroom like a funeral shroud. He was stock still, as if rooted to the spot. Last night's champagne glasses were still sitting on my bedside table. I could feel the consequences of our celebration beginning to settle into the center of my head, right between my eyes.
I got out of bed and slipped on my housecoat before joining him at the window. The street was busy, as it usually is on a Wednesday morning, with the commuters making their daily journeys to the jobs they hate. Today, they all had their high beams on as they attempted to navigate their way through the malevolent dark. On most days I loved living in a high rise, it made me feel like God looking down at an art farm. Today, it just gave me a broader view of the endless, enveloping darkness.
"It's 8:20 in the morning and it's still pitch black. Where is the sun, Jim? Why is it so dark?" He was really starting to work himself up. "Why is it still dark? This isn't right. This isn't-"
"Stop!" I grabbed his fist that he had begun pounding on the window. "You said it's 8:20?"
"Yes!" he wailed "I've been awake for two hours and it just isn't getting lighter. It's like hell. We're in hell." He began to softly cry. "This is hell..." he whispered, almost to himself.
"No honey, we're not in hell, we're just in Edmonton in the winter. Don't worry you'll get used to it. The sun will be up in another hour or so." I probably shouldn't have asked him to move here in the winter. Edmonton is actually quite nice in the summer months. | "Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"Where's the Sun?"
"I don't have a son."
"THE Sun."
"Like... Jesus?"
"What? No like... the giant light in the sky. Yellow. Bright."
"Oh you mean Gordon?"
"What's Gordon?"
"... giant guy in the sky. Yellow. Really shiny - comes by every day."
"Ok that sounds like... what I'm talking about but... the Sun isn't a guy."
"Look dude I get the accident was rough but this is basic fucking science. Gordon is a guy from Detroit who decided to become God so he did, and now he flies over the earth and glows and gives plants life and shit. How do you not know this? He comes by like every day."
"... these edibles are REALLY strong." | 2020-12-08T13:20:46 | 2020-12-08T12:55:17 | 68 | 30 |
[WP] Humans are the only species in the universe with pets. As humanity enters the ranks of the Galactic Empire humanity soon is known as "The Beastmasters", taming even the worst nightmares of alien bedtime stories. | "No, no," that's where everybody gets the story wrong, said Hugo, my erstwhile human companion said as we boarded the cruiser. It's not that humans tamed wolves. Humans found the wolves that could be tamed.
"I'm failing to see the distinction."
Well, most other species in the universe became the dominant species either by natural selection's survival advantages OR by being smart enough to create tools -- which you could say is another natural selection survival advantage, but I digress. Point is, that was us as well, but we *took advantage of other species survival advantages.*
*"How so?"*
"Well," Hugo explained, "Those wolves. Vicious, deadly in packs. But clever. They knew that the advantage lay in numbers. A pack of wolves could take down a human traveling alone, humans, as a group, however, could handle any wolf-pack. To wolves, humans were dangerous, and when on the defensive, had fire, sharp tools, shields, and wore the hides of much tougher animals to protect them. Only the bravest or most foolish wolf would dare go close to where humans had settled in groups."
"So, the humans had to hunt down and capture the wolves?," I asked.
"No! As I said. The bravest and most foolish wolves came to us! And they were rewarded! If you're a wolf, you are subject to the whims of nature. Not just bears, but surviving the winter when food has become scarce. But... what the brave and foolish discovered was that if you didn't attack the humans... if you acted like the humans wanted you to act -- then you could feed from our scraps pretty much year round. It's an excellent survival strategy, and the wolves who were brave or foolish enough to approach the humans were able to have more children, whose brave and foolish traits were passed on to the next generation. And if you had some special trait that helped the humans in the area, the humans would go out of the way to make sure that you had a chance to breed. If you like to pull, and you're in a snowy region, congratulations, your descendants will become huskies. If you aren't scared by loud noises and can retrieve waterfowl, congratulations, you are the progenitor of the poodle. So the relationship became symbiotic - without dogs, hunts would not be as effective, without humans, food would not be as regular."
"So all the animals were like this? You befriended the bravest?"
"Well, the cat was more of a later addition. When we started agriculture, we started having to store large parts of grain. Bugs and other vermin would get into them. Cats just... went to where their food went to, and we thought it was useful to have cats around to hunt the vermin, so we kinda just let them stay. But still, it's a relationship of symbiosis. Without the cats, the grain would spoil, without the humans, there would be no grain to lure vermin."
"When you put it like that, it makes me wonder why other species *didn't* pick up on this survival advantage."
"Just the luck of the draw, I guess." | “Oh fuck.”
To think this all started with fucking dogs I thought to myself as I dove behind a rock. I think I might be in over my head. When the Delphi hired me I was overflowing with confidence: “ Not a lifeform the Beastmasters can’t tame Gan! I assure you, I’ll have it here before you need it.” I never saw something like this. Even Johannes had never heard of anything like it.
Ga described it as something with a lot of limbs and dark as night. He had heard people on-planet speak of it only as the Khotxi, loosely translated as the shadowdeath, or shadowshriek, depending on who you ask. I could hear and feel it move over the rocky surface of the valley we were in. It was moving cautiously, definitly still looking for me. I throw some bait in an open area and watch it move towards it rapidly, its spiky legs drilling itself in the ground under it’s immense weight. I counted 18, but can’t be sure. I haven’t seen anything like it, it’s just all black. As I watch it, I seem to be getting pulled in by the dark void it has for a coat. I wish there was a word that for something sinister and majestic. I duck back down because I haven’t figured out how well it sees yet. I don’t know how it spotted me earlier. I wasn’t all that visible, I neutralised my smell, I barely made any noise on the mountainside and yet it still came barreling towards me.
I perch up and watch it, I think, stab the bait I threw with about eight of it’s paws, one after the other. I decide to move a bit to the right, but as soon as I take my first step, I hear those droning and alarmingly fast legs come barreling towards me again. | 2020-01-04T19:34:51 | 2020-01-04T17:57:03 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | I was a joke, I knew it, the city knew it, the heroes knew it. Sure they had to adapt to whatever my latest superweapon was and overcome, becoming stronger, pushing the limits of their powers but they always overcame my latest scheme, I never got anywhere in the grand scheme of things. So, I was a joke, but the joke was on them. They thought I was a failure because I never succeeded in getting the money, the girl, the power, or control. I thought I was a failure because they never understood that I was training them.
It was my biggest frustration honestly. I could never get a single one of these heroes to look beyond their preconceived notions of good and evil and realize that what they thought were bumbling attempts to be villainous really prepared them for true threats. They never saw the bigger picture. So when the Void Menace, a serial hero-killer came to town I wasn't too worried. I sat back on my couch with some pretzels and a helping of hummus and watched the fight unfold via the innumerable surveillance drones that I had around town to record training footage.
Void Menace started by using his Absolute Zero move to ice the ground under our local speedster's feet. Classic move to deal with a super-fast opponent, nice opening but weak. Blue Shift merely vibrated at a rate that allowed her foot to phase about a quarter of a centimeter below the ice and into the ground, allowing her to retain perfect traction. I smirked, she'd learned that one when I attacked with my Blizzard Bombs last July. The resounding punch from the speedster rocked the villain sending him reeling.
Lady Crimson a dark-haired Amazonian was the next target of the Menace. Tendrils of pure darkness snaked out from every shadow and bound the heroine, wrapping and knotting around her limbs and body. Most heroes would try to break free with brute strength, and LC had plenty to spare but some bonds couldn't be broken by strength alone. After encountering my nano-reinforced, self-repairing plotinium chains a year ago though Lady Crimson, in reality, a lovely woman with two adorable kids, had learned to escape from bonds better than Harry Houdini himself. Menace roared in rage when she seemed to magically slide free.
Titanomax, the super-strong, invincible, flying member of the local supers took that moment to attack. Flinging shadows at the bruiser, the Menace temporarily blinded him, just like I had in 96 during the "Great Blackout." The hero's super hearing however allowed him to compensate. I did raise an eyebrow when the villain followed the attack by creating a void pocket and allowing the resulting pop to create a deafening sonic boom. Guess he's dealt with superheroes with enhanced hearing before! I laughed though as his eyes widened in surprise as Titanomax slugged him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of even that super-powered monster.
As Void Menace bounced across the concrete, cracking the ground with every impact I winced, then laughed as Titanomax gave a knowing nod to Electrix, the group's gadgeteer. I knew Titanomax wore sound discriminating earplugs ever since Electrix had captured the tech from me when he teamed up with the Silver Banshee to take me down during the Peanut Butter Heist of 07. In fact, I was pretty sure the whole team had them now, since they also served as GPS, com-link, and tracking devices that used quantum entanglement to be unhackable and unobservable.
I looked down at the empty bowl of pretzels. That was a mistake because when I looked up Electrix had a smoking rifle held up and a smug look on his face. I cursed and focused on Menace. I didn't see any wounds even as the brute stood slowly, coughing a little blood from Titanomax's last hit but still standing. He seemed to be considering his situation and I could tell his next move. He snapped his fingers. I'm sure he meant to use Void Stride, his ultimate teleport that could span light-years, but nothing happened. I put two and two together rather quickly.
Electrix had "captured" some anti-teleport tech from me a few years back. They thought I was teleporting into the bank vaults and then using the tech to stop any heroes from teleporting in while I robbed the bank. It took them a few tries to catch me and by then I had coated the inside of the bank vaults of more than half the city with my anti-teleportation tech. Actually how they caught me was a pretty good move on their part, you see... You know what, story for another time. Long story short Electrix had adapted it to be used on teleporting villains as those slippery buggers were some of the hardest to pin down.
I stood up and walked away from the screen at that point. I wanted a glass of water, the pretzels had made me so thirsty, and to be honest it was just wrap up by now. They'd throw him in the super-max jail. In most cities, I'd be worried about him getting out in under a week but I'd broken out of that place 138 times out of the 139 times I'd been arrested. Each time they improved security, closing the vulnerability I exposed to escape. The last time, well the last time I didn't escape. I was all set to retire to life in prison, safe in the knowledge my city and my heroes were as protected as I could make them, but one of the heroes had surprised me.
Titanomax, crusader of truth and justice just, let me go. I didn't ask why, maybe he felt sorry for me. I did see pity in his eyes when he did, and shame. I had hoped he understood I had never been out to do evil, but I'm not sure he did. I think he thought I was just some sad old villain who was past his prime and not able to keep up with the heroes of today. It made me sad to realize that they didn't even see how much stronger they had gotten. A lesser man would have worried they had gotten too strong, turned to villainy themselves. But all six hundred heroes I had raised over the last fifty years turning evil at once? Not likely. I sat on my couch with a cup of tea and looked up at my wall covered in news clippings and magazine articles of their many victories and triumphs and smiled. If one of them broke in now and saw the tribute they would likely think I was plotting revenge, but nothing could be further from the truth.
*EDIT: Thanks for the awards and upvotes! I'm very happy to see so many people enjoyed it! | “Micah, my boy, what do you think is the truest expression of evil?”
The wizened old man sat the wrong way on his chair, arms resting across its back, chin and long, wispy gray beard atop them. He wore plain clothes, his body no longer conforming to the tight, chiseled physique expected of a super-anything. The man across from him was his opposite in every way. Young and hale, standing rather than sitting, blond haired, blue eyed, so muscular that he forced a shape upon the sleek kevlar of his jumpsuit instead of the other way around.
Micah, the young man, bowed deeply. “I don’t know, master.”
The old man sighed. Servants brought wine at a gesture, a plate refreshments appeared a moment later, and in between sips and bites of expensive cheeses, he set to educating his apprentice.
“When I was your age, I thought it was chaos. I thought evil was a burning skyscraper or a demolished downtown. Once, long ago, I transported a whole elementary school to the nether realms and thought myself a god. Do you know what happened then, Micah?”
“Of course, master. I’ve studied the holotapes. After the Incident of ‘97 the government cracked down on the Supers of both stripes. It took nearly 40 years for you to rebuild your organization.”
The old man frowned. “As ever, you miss the point. What happened then, is that they mourned. For a week. Soon enough to people forgot, and all save the parents let it slip back into the past, just the like the school itself. There was a massive memorial on the first anniversary, a smaller one on the second, but by the third people were no longer coming. The fourth may as well have been an empty room for all the good it did the parents. No Micah, true evil takes a longer view.”
Swirling the last droplets of wine around in his glass, the old man paused, considering what was to come. Shadows took shape around him, the darkness materialized into people, and places, hints of lives lost already and more losses still to come. For a moment there were faces reflected in the wine in his glass. Children’s faces clinging to each drop. He poured them out on the floor and broke the glass. Micah waited patiently, head bowed.
“You know why I called you here?”
“To kill the heroes,” Micah said.
“Yes.” The shadows faded. The old man looked somehow smaller in their absence, the room somehow brighter. The lines in face were chiseled in stone, all save for the grim slash mouth which was nothing less than rending flesh.
“I’ve invested decades in these heroes. One might say that as much as anything, they are my life’s work. Every child in the world wishes to go the academy, to discover whatever small power they might hold. Every teenager, upon realizing they aren’t one of the lucky few, watches the streaks of blue, gold, and white in the sky as their heroes fly off to confront my demons, and at the triumphs held by cities across the globe, people fall in love with their faces. Micah, you might think me a recluse, but from my seclusion I’ve crafted the dreams of an entire world. It’s your job to turn them to nightmares.”
Micah smiled. Sparks up his arms as little fires danced along his fingertips. The blue of his eyes turned to the dull of dried blood, then deepened to scarlet as his turned his fist to a flaring inferno.
“I’ll make you proud,” he said.
“I know you will. You were chosen for a reason. Go. I’m an old man, I’ve waited a very long time. Go bring my life’s work to fruition. Give them a show they'll remember.”
The ceiling opened, irising outward to expose the calm blue of a perfect day. Micah saluted sharply, his body exploded into the same inferno as his fist, and then he was gone, sailing through the sky towards the city center.
The windows of the far wall turned opaque and then became a vidscreen as the old man leaned back, glass abandoned, drinking wine straight from the bottle.
“The true meaning of evil,” he whispered, as the vidscreen turned into the pristine scene of the Heroes Academy. Gargantuan trees swayed in the breeze, shadowing the campus beneath Green Thumb enhanced canopies. Water burbled from three sources, artificial lakes and ponds where the lectures were held on nicer days, days like today. There was a class of normal schoolchildren touring the grounds, exiting from the telekinetics building at that moment.
Then the trees turned to funeral pyres, the water evaporated, and all else was obscured by smoke.
Decades of effort went up in flames as the old man’s real student went to work. He smiled into his wine, turning up the volume of the crackling fire. Every magazine in the world carried front page stories of the heroes. They starred in television shows when their powers waned, played on professional sports teams, went into politics or the military or education.
He’d created the ultimate symbols of human desire and perfection.
Now he’d destroyed them.
True evil was a fitting legacy.
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-05-20T07:25:02 | 2021-05-20T06:23:15 | 795 | 211 |
[WP] When the galactic council of gods decided to go to war with the humans gods the council trampled all but one. One cloaked figure weilding a sharpened scythe and not a single worshipper to their name and for the first time the council felt afraid. | “You have come to kill me?” The cloaked figure asked, leaning on their scythe. Their voice was hardly above a whisper but each council member heard it as if the words were spoken directly in their ears. “What an interesting concept.” The voice spoke again, neither male, nor female, young or old. It spoke with a thousand voices yet only spoke with one.
The council had had the most difficult time tracking down this human god, for it seemed to be everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. The figures cloak swirled around them, a dizzying array of colors that constantly moved and shifted. They bent slowly, unperturbed by the weapons pointed at them and picked up a small sparrow that had fallen from its nest. The figure gently stroked the creature with one slim finger as the bird gasped for air before gently kissing the top of its head. The shuddering gasps stopped and the animal lay still in their palm. “An interesting concept indeed,” they said, placing the empty body gently on a pile of leaves.
The figure turned back to the crowd, once again leaning on the scythe, their head tilted curiously to the side. A few of the attackers shifted nervously and looked at each other. So far every human god they had encountered had fought with vengeance but this god seemed calm and accepting of the fate they had assigned.
“Will you not fight?” The voice of gravel asked, it came from Adgo, a god of oceans. A sigh seemed to escape from the human god as they picked up their scythe and started walking. The council looked at each other but followed nervously behind, not wanting their prey to escape but also wishing that this was already over. They didn’t go far before they stopped again, the human god watching silently as a fox tore into a rabbits throat, it’s screams piercing the air. Minutes dragged by as the animal struggled before the god stepped forward and gently brushed the rabbits face, it’s struggles ceasing as they breathed on it.
“Be at peace.” The god straightened as the fox darted off into the undergrowth, eyes barely visible beneath their hood but contemplative. The council had unwittingly stepped back another pace or two at the serenity of this god who took the breath of life without another thought. “I suppose I could,” they finally said, turning back to their hunters, pale fingers ran over the scythe, seemingly running the idea over in their minds. “Yes, I suppose I could.” They bent, brushing aside leaves to reveal a vole, a quick stroke, a whispered blessing, and the creatures body shuddered as its life force left. Again they straightened and began to walk, pace unhurried. The council members looked at each other knowing this would be the best time to attack, while their back was turned to the danger, but a deep sense of dread stayed their blades and instead they followed the cloaked figure through the woods. Each of them contemplating why this god seemed so familiar yet so unknown.
An hour passed before they arrived in bright sunlight to chaos. An accident on the highway blocked their path. The human god stood on the hill, the sun showing more of their face. Dark eyes with hints of gold watched the bloody scene before they carefully descended the slope. The council once again glanced at each other with wary eyes and followed.
The screams were unbearable, the begging and sobs could be heard from all around, but the god moved through the carnage with purpose, stopping and stooping once in awhile. Those they touched had their screams silenced and their bodies go limp. The council grew in their unease at the languid way this god seemed to handle death. They wandered amongst the wreckage for minutes longer before walking out the other side, pausing to glance over their shoulder at the council. “Are you coming to kill me or not?” They asked. The voice slid over them smoothly and their insides churned in fear. None had ever seen someone so familiar with death. They crossed the road and followed the god into the woods on the other side.
“Will you fight?” Another member demanded. The human god looked at him, a large, hulking brute.
“I suppose I could,” they finally conceded, turning back to continue their walk, “but the fight would be unfair.”
“We’ll fight you one at a time!” The human god stopped, turning.
“That is not what I meant.” This time the fear churned violently in the council members. They stared at each other for long moments before Lucille, the god of war stepped forward with shaking legs.
“Who are you?” He asked, his words shaking despite his attempt to appear calm. The human god remained silent, their face turning up to the sky as they once again fingered the carvings along their scythe.
“I am the god of death,” they finally answered, locking eyes with Lucille. In that moment they all remembered how they knew the god, for they had been watching impassively in the shadows, only being glimpsed out of the corner of the councils eyes, collecting each human god as they had been slaughtered. “So I ask you now, how do you kill the god of death?” | Mex Ki'Toth gazed out into the abyss beyond. No lights of far flung stars, no brilliant bursts of wave spectrums to color the cosmos. The roar of creation as atoms smashed together, as electrons pulsed to tangible form? All of this was blotted out by the great shadow that Mex Ki'Toth stood within. Beside Mex Ki'Toth was a small rabble of their brethren. Those lucky gods of the galactic council who had already met the carrier of such a long shadow.
Salquetor the blue sun, his glow only a faint shimmer on his hair, whimpered into the echo less dark around them.
"Quiet brother, you know we are safe here. No fury, no rage, our sibling sees our innocence," Mex Ki'Toth tried desperately to counsel their sibling of the blue sun, the sibling that should have been the oldest and wisest among them.
Mex Ki'Toth was the middle moon. Neither young nor old among their pantheon, but one that assumed three forms for their duties. And it was upon the insistence of Mex Ki'Toth that their few siblings had survived the evisceration of moments ago.
Earth and the humans of it had many gods. But these gods had been weak, their mortals advancing a society that needed not to rely on gods and stories to thrive. The galactic council had learned of this, and felt insulted when only one had once shown up to the inauguration when humans joined the galactic stage.
The collective rage had set stars to boil their contents in fits. To make moons shudder and scatter debris on planets below. They crashed upon the Human Gods like hungry savages battling for discarded scraps of food in forlorn gutters.
They had forgotten who had arrived in place of these gods. They had forgotten the hollow eyes of those who had witnessed the horror, the pervading grief, the unyielding stiffness and cold, the rage of lost experiences, the melancholy of an inevitable force. They had forgotten about those who had met sibling Death.
And Death did not take kindly to these gods that had tried to assume it's role.
The bones beneath Mex Ki'Toth crunched as they tried to forget the powerful gods that has once been. They finally knew the reason sibling Death had no worshippers, because even these bones of gods held no worth anymore. No more or less than the specks of starlight Death caught with scythe blade as they walked towards the fleeing and screaming.... Gods.... Or perhaps they no longer needed to be called that. They resented Death, true. They feared Death, of course. But the faster they fled, the greater their struggle to escape, the quicker the shadow found them.
And Death reaped them in a fashion no different than the mortal souls that floated as starlight along the inscrutable path the steed of Death walked.
"Sibling Death?" Mex Ki'Toth whispered, but could hear no words escape their lips.
"You are heard," Death did not speak, but Mex Ki'Toth felt the words.
"The council, it is gone. Their mortals can feel their connections broken. Will this not cause panic and them to perish without your want?" Mex Ki'Toth was in their child form, the only one they could maintain in the presence of Sibling Death.
"You and your siblings will fill the gap." There was no discussion in the statement Death made. No hope or doubt, no command or question. Only words that spoke the truth of what would come to pass.
Mex Ki'Toth stopped trying to follow. Sibling Death was never far away. They had other duties as it were. As they stared into far flung galaxies, already Mex Ki'Toth could see humans offering aid to the great civilizations that relied on their beliefs to propel them into the galaxy. | 2021-06-02T20:34:24 | 2021-06-02T20:21:39 | 43 | 18 |
[WP] You are a mighty dragon, the kind who kidnaps princesses. However, you only do it because princesses inherently have the ability to talk to animals and you're starved for intelligent conversation. | “You’ll never get away with this,” the princess said through tears. “Don’t you know how these things end? You’ll be slain by some mighty hero looking to win my hand in marriage.”
The dragon rested its mountainous body upon an equally large heap of golden treasure. Its reptilian eyes made the princess step back as it turned its head.
“Do not be foolish my dear, this is nothing like the tales you’ve read in your human books. A man does not defeat a giant fire-breathing monster with nothing but a sword and a determined heart. In fact, he possesses the common-sense to not try at all.”
The princess wiped away her tears. “Stop pretending to know what humans are like, you’re just a monster.”
To the princess’s surprise, the dragon cast down its gaze, looking almost melancholic. “I’ve lived for millennia, and I’ve observed the never-ending power games of your kin. Human lives contain no virtue, only the perpetual struggle to move up the social ladder and make sure everyone else stays below you.”
The princess was staring at the dragon, unsure of how she was supposed to argue with something fifty times her size that could incinerate her in an instant. “Uhm . . . some humans are good. I’ve given out bread to the kingdom’s poor without expecting anything in return, that’s good, right?”
The dragon let out a sigh that echoed through the cave. “Yes princess, you are intelligent and kind, as princesses usually are. That’s why you’re blessed with the ability to speak to creatures such as myself—That’s why I brought you here”
“Because you’re so altruistic that you wanted to save me from the other very bad humans?” The princess crossed her arms. “*How* *very nice of you*.”
The dragon smiled, revealing teeth that rivaled the height of the princess’s entire body. “No, because I’ve been starved for exactly this. Someone who will push back against my cynicism, someone who dares respond to me with snarky phrases. I have been looking for *intelligent conversation*, and you are already performing.”
The princess sat down on the edge of the heap of gold, kicking a golden vase out across the cave floor. “First time someone wants me for something else than my looks or my heritage—and it’s a damn dragon.”
“I told you humans are the worst.”
The princess let her body go limp, lying down with her back resting against the golden treasure. “Why me? Surely, there must have been hundreds of other human princesses you could have chosen.”
“Oh there have been many before you. So many that I promised myself I would never kidnap a princess again. Until now, where centuries void of intelligent conversation was threatening to destroy my sanity.”
The princess smiled. “So you do care about humans after all?”
“To the extent that they provide me with interesting conversation, yes. But . . .” the dragon’s voice lost some of its force. “It’s just, well you see, unlike me you humans don’t live forever, so. . .”
The princess climbed the heap of gold and laid a hand upon the dragon’s large scales. “I can tell you’re hurting. What was it that made you promise not to kidnap princesses anymore?”
The dragon let out another massive sigh, with so much force that the wind bounced off the wall and made the princess’s dress billow.
“That it’s so sad when you eventually die.” | Terror is a lonely thing, and I am terror incarnate.
These humans are like ants in their urban jungles, crawling along their paved streets in their metal vehicles, grid locked and desperate as I cast judgement upon them. I hear their warning sirens, a piercing sound that echoes off of these new tall buildings, glass and metal monstrosities that thrust towards the heavens.
I fly overhead, watching as they scurry into their dragon shelters, down, down into the ground where they hope to go unnoticed, knowing full well that if they are noticed and that if I feel like it, death will find them anyway.
This world has changed. I ponder this as my eternal fire rakes the city's downtown thoroughfares. The ants have multiplied, they have grown arrogant in my slumber and perhaps they have a right to their arrogance, for their civilization is more impressive then any I have seen.
They have oriented themselves around new systems and new technologies, yet their princesses are far fewer. They are no longer ruled by monarchs but by markets, and their cultures cluster along entire continents, spreading like an all consuming plague over fertile valleys and lush forests, consuming the natural world, shaping it and warping it into something unrecognizable.
And so I fly, awakened once more, and I inspire terror once more and I feel the pinpricks of these new-age weapons ricocheting off my scales. My fire scours the streets as I ponder the passage of time, searching for those ants that can commune with the divine, with me, who can give me a small outlet during their insignificant lifespans.
The ants have taken to the skies, and even now their sky-carriages hurtle towards me only to fall towards the ground as burned out husks. The ants dare to defy me. They no longer offer up their princesses, those who can commune with the divine. For this they must pay.
They cower in their dragon shelters, and they are and will always be afraid of what they do not understand.
I am terror incarnate, and so I shall terrify. | 2019-11-11T13:47:25 | 2019-11-11T13:20:08 | 3,084 | 175 |
[WP] An alien killed the boss and replaced him over a week ago. Everyone knows he’s not the boss due to his terrible disguise, but he’s such a better person than the original that everyone just goes along with it. | The "boss" walked clumsily over to my cubicle and spent a little bit too long trying to find a natural pose as he talked to me.
"Hello. Joan. Do you possess moment of time that I may borrow?"
I kept down my smile. "Hey boss! Always the kidder- you know my name is John. Anyways, what can I do for you?"
"Yes. *John*. You are correct. I am kidder," and he cleared his throat, which made a noise like nothing I'd ever heard before. "I come to speak with you to thank you."
"Huh? Oh, that's really nice of you. But, uh, what are you thanking me for?"
"I watch people. People here. In office. Everyone works to their best. You too. You extra. You help people here. Gain for them. No gain for you. World needs more people like you. World with greedy people not survive," and his voice got quieter. "They destroy world. They go to new world. Not care about people without world." Then he blinked a few times (two sets of eyelids) and seemed to snap out of his memory. "John. I give you promotion. Assist me. Operate company together."
My jaw dropped. "Oh my God I- wow! I can't believe this. Thank you so much! Ya know I've been here since day one and the last boss never even-"
He sounded alarmed. "Last boss? But records say this company new. Few years. I am first boss... only boss... correct?"
I chose my next words very carefully. "Yeah, of course. I meant if there *were*... a boss before you, well, I and everyone else in this office prefer you a helluva lot more."
He stared silently at me a moment, then smiled, a bit too big, but it seemed genuine. "I understand your meaning. Last boss unintelligent. Greedy. Not appreciate people here. You make company better. Make world better. I glad to have people like you." And he stuck out his hand for me to shake.
Even though his fingers were just a little too long and his pinky a sad sack of hanging flesh, I didn't hesitate to shake his hand. "Thank you so much boss."
"Now. First mission. Please electronically mail office. Inform people that I make my money small, so they have bigger money."
My jaw hit the floor a second time. "You're giving *everyone* a raise??"
I said that a little too loud, and the next thing I know the whole office is cheering. | Hello! I used this prompt as an idea for some writing homework. I had to write a paragraph using sensory details and strong word choice. If it sounds strange, it's probably because of my teacher's strange requirements.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everyone working in this beautifully decorated place of work turned to me and grinned as they caught a glimpse of me trotting down the hallway. I am astounded that this bare costume could even be passed off as a disguise. I am quite enjoying this glamorous lifestyle that I have been so graciously granted by replacing that sad old boss. For now, I just have to keep my actions routine so that none of the dull, characterless plebs will suspect that I killed off their barren leader. This strange planet uniquely smells of a bittersweet fruit which is ripe and has been recently picked. The air is yellow, cold and sharp, and terrifically low quality. I don’t know how much longer I can last before I have to reboard the mothership and go back to my home planet Albanel, which is a great deal finer. For the time being, I must stick to my sluggish “job” and act like the “humans.” It hurts just to call my intellectual, scholarly self one of them. | 2019-10-07T16:44:17 | 2019-10-07T14:42:35 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] You get your orders through the mail. They're fairly mundane: "Walk the dog at 6 PM on Wednesday." "Deliver a dozen eggs to this address." Sometimes, months or even years later, something happens and you can almost see what you've been doing. | If you've found this, it means that I'm in trouble and it's because of my job.
When I was in college, I answered an add in a local free newspaper. It looked honestly too good to be true. "Small Tasks, six figures. Call the number to apply." I was behind on a car payment and working in a 7-11 third shift, so I figured what would be the worst that could happen?
I called the number. I was interviewed by a nice lady who never told me her name, just asked me a bunch of questions that made no real sense.
* Was I a smoker?
* Did I have my own car?
* What's a TV show I'd wipe from history.
* Did I have any chronic health conditions?
* Did I live alone?
* Was I a virgin?
* Did I like dogs?
* Did you have any food allergies?
* When was the last time I cried?
* What's your favorite mixer for cocktails?
* Are the batteries in your smoke alarm still good?
I got annoyed at first, since some of those were kind of personal, but then it just started being funny. I looked around to see if I was on camera. The lady never stopped smiling, never stopped being polite. Finally, she said, "Thank you. We'll be contacting you shortly."
"I didn't give you my number or address or anything."
"Oh, we have that already. Good day, Anthony."
It dawned on me that I'd never told her my name. I chalked it up to caller ID and then left.
A week later, I got a letter. It said I had the job. I'd tested well. I'd be asked to do small tasks around town and as long as I did them, I would be paid. I'd be contacted by mail. If I was going to be out of town for more than two days, I had to contact them at a number and leave a message.
My first task was in that letter. It was to take out my garbage and make sure that it wasn't messy.
I shook my head, but what was there to lose? Garbage day was still two days away, but the bin was full so, sure. I did it.
That friday, I got my first paycheck. I still wasn't sure this wasn't a joke. The number seemed too high. Still, I went and cashed it, ready to dash at the first sign they thought it was counterfeit. It wasn't.
I got another check the next Friday. I called in and quit right then. I kept getting checks each week. I got my next assignment almost a month later: go to the store, buy one dozen eggs, bring them home and prepare two of them however I wanted, then eat them.
I did it.
I also got a dog. I washed my car. I went dancing. I ate an ice cream from a street cart. I bet on a horse. I sawed the leg off of a chair. I bought a copy of the collected works of Shakespeare. I ran naked in my backyard. I thrifted a couch. I wrote bad poetry and read it at a local open mic night.
Sometimes it would be days. Sometimes, hours. Or months. The longest was three and a half years. Every week the checks came. Every instruction was followed.
I moved. I called them. They verified my new address. I hadn't told them what it was.
It was about eight years into this weirdness that I was looking out of my condo's bay window and I saw what looked like someone in a black trenchcoat and hat looking at my window six stories up. It was just a second, but when I saw him, he looked down and hurried away.
I kept doing my job, but I also kept a lookout. I didn't see that guy again, but I did see another person, a woman, in a similar outfit watching me drink from a public water fountain. I kept watch and four times out of five, I'd see someone following me.
I got curious. By this time, I was set for life. I'd made good investments and good use of my copious free time. The worst they could do was fire me, I thought. So the next time I spotted one of them. I counted to ten and then I followed them. It wasn't hard; they weren't clever.
I tried to slow down, I was gaining on them too fast. They ducked down an alley and I stood at the edge. The acoustics of the alley made voices boom. I heard them say, "Test 412 completed; baseline behavior decoded 78 percent. Still harmless."
I snapped my head around the corner to see who they were talking to. I didn't see anyone. What I did see was them getting into the back seat of a long, black sedan. I also saw two things... tentacles? Tails? Coming from under the coat. And I saw their eyes. They saw mine, too. We locked onto each other for what seemed like ten minutes.
Then they got in the car and left.
There was a termination notice in my mailbox when I got home along with a final check.
A few days later, I opened the door and a young lady sang "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" at me. She then said, "Um... okay, bye."
When she turned, I saw an envelope sticking out her back pocket. It looked like the hundreds I'd gotten before.
And that's why I don't sleep so good any more, just lie there and wonder what happens when they got to 100. | His home was mostly empty, save for a cot and some amenities. There was an electric kettle, and a folding chair, and some cards for solitaire, but not much more. It was meant to be deserted at a moment's notice, if need be, not a trace of his existence left behind.
Three weeks it had been since he moved into this unassuming neighborhood. And for three weeks he had waited, eating packets of pasta and watching the mailbox through his binoculars. His next assignment would arrive when the agency deemed it time. Until then, he entertained himself by cleaning his rifles, sharpening his knives, and sudoku.
Every day he watched the mail lady walk by the box at the end of the driveway, and every day she ignored it. But one day a second carrier walked down the street--a man this time, with sunglasses--and he dropped a box on the doormat. He rang the bell five times--two short, two long, another short--and left just as he came. The man in the house waited until dark to open the door and bring the package in.
He opened the box with a hunting knife strapped inside his sock. Inside were about 80 letters, each marked with a different month and year. A note on top instructed him that this would be his longest assignment, but it was of the utmost importance, as was secrecy. Not even *he* could know.
Dutifully, he restrained himself from opening all of them at once. His training made such obedience thoughtless. Instead, he rummaged for the one marked with the current month, and opened up his first assignment:
>Get yourself something nice.
And out fell a $200 gift card to *Bed Bath and Beyond*.
---
Every order after was just as confounding.
>In today's paper, there is a help-wanted ad for a party clown. Take the job. Work as many hours as they have. Work hard, and be a good coworker. Don't let them suspect you are any different than they are. Work your way up the ladder as high as you can.
,
>You are no longer "Barracuda". Your new codename is "Phil".
,
>With every paycheck, divide the money across the expenses of the house appropriately. Don't let the IRS or the utility providers suspect there's anything out of the ordinary about you or your "home". Use any remaining money to furnish your base with inconspicuous decor. Maintain the disguise, inside and out.
,
>Meet the neighbors. Interact with the local businesses. Establish yourself. Your employment will introduce you to many of the local families. Earn their trust.
A month in, and this job was proving to be his most extensive. But 6 months in is when it *really* evolved to a new level. The note that started it all read:
>Find a partner, a local. Romance them if you must, but don't tell them the truth. Make sure to pick an individual that you enjoy and trust, because you will be working with them for an extended period.
It took only two weeks to fulfill this one. As it happened, he had already started to...erm...infiltrate a woman who worked at the local butchery. Everything thereafter came naturally:
>Once trust is ensured, move in together.
,
>For appearances, marry your partner.
,
>Grow your own recruits. Three impressionable children should do. Get to work with your partner.
,
>Love these children. Earn their trust. Let them see you almost as a father figure.
On and on it went, for years. So long it lasted, he forgot all about the weapons he had hidden under the floorboards beneath the living room loveseat. Until he arrived at the last letter in the box.
By now he had three kids, two promotions at the clowning agency, one loving wife, an honored position in the neighborhood watch, and an unexpected love of lawn badminton, which he indulged with his wife and his work friends every weekend.
When he picked up the last letter, he ripped it open, surprised by the sadness inside him. But not nearly as surprised as when he read:
>!BE SURE TO DRINK YOUR OVALTINE!< 🕵️♂️ | 2022-11-21T08:44:48 | 2022-11-21T08:30:06 | 509 | 148 |
[WP] You're an immortal that has lived for centuries. One day you meet another person in a bar who says, "Hey, remember me? Britain, 1800's?" | "Oi, remember me? Britain, 1800s?"
"No."
"Aw, come on now. Don't be like that. We spent a whole bloody week together! Running to and fro hitting every bank in the south! It was a good time!"
"It was... I was going through... I don't, don't get up to that sort of thing anymore, and I'd like to leave it behind me."
"Like fuck I'm taking that for an answer! I thought we were friends!"
"It's been 200 fucking years, man."
"Well I thought you were dead! Didn't fucking know you'd also live forever! How many immortals you meet every day? Di'n't even figure I was one til around 1920."
"That's... an extraordinarily long time to not realize something like that."
"Yeah, well I thought I just got good genes."
"Genes where, at the age of... how old *are* you?
"I was born 'round 1796 or so."
"And it took you until you were 124, with the body of a 30-year-old man, to realize that you might--"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, well we didn't have the modern sciences, I thought I was just lucky. Blagh. How the hell old were you when you figured it out?"
"I was around 55 when I became suspicious. 70 when I knew something was definitely off. I can't remember a single moment where I simply acknowledged being immortal... so perhaps around now."
"Well. You's got the sciences to figure it out these days, you're probably a lot younger, haven't seen as much."
"I was born in what I guess you'd now refer to as Classical Greece."
"What year?"
"A specific year? I guess nowadays it would be called.... gimme a sec, gotta do the math... 428 BC."
"Oh, bugger off."
"I cry every time I think about where we could be today if we didn't lose so much... I remember... the Library of Alexandria.... and, when the ink of all the books of Baghdad dyed the river black... the Bonfire of the Vanities... even as recently as Nazi Germany! Such a shame... I've often thought of writing things down, but... what use would it be? Nobody would believe a word I say. I couldn't even forge a contemporary account because of carbon-dating. If I wrote it all down... it would only be useful to me. And I already kn-- oh, he's gone. Well, all right. Chaire, then." | “Hey, remember me? Britain, 1800’s?”
I turned around to see a guy wearing a red hoodie and blue jeans.
“Sorry, what were you saying” I said as I turned around, somewhat surprised.
He pulled up a stool and sat next to me.
“Remember, June 1838? Queen Vicky’s coronation?”
It finally hit me. He was Donovan. Donovan Clark.
“Donnie, I barely recognized you, what’re you going here?”
“Oh nothing, just coming by to get a drink. How have you been?” He asked.
“Nothin really. Ah, the 1930s weren’t good for me though” I replied.
“Oh, yeah, neither were the 1910s. They came so close to finding out that I was immortal”
“Well, it’s been nice taking to ya, Brian. I gotta go take care of some chores at home, I’ll see you around maybe next decade?”
“Ok, mate, have a nice one” | 2018-11-23T18:44:59 | 2018-11-23T17:50:34 | 206 | 42 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain... | I walked through the back allies, the worst ones in town, to get home from work. They were dirty, and stunk of things best ignored. If you could. But it didn't really bother me. My power wasn't flashy, but it worked when I needed it.
Four young men and two women came out from various hiding spots as I passed an intersection of six different allies. It had a fairly large open space, as this area wasn't a planned layout - the joke was this city was planned by wandering cows, but it was probably just how the swamp was filled in. One woman was sparking, seemingly not fully in control of her power, but she didn't seem bothered by it. She was either good at hiding her fear, or the thought of inflicting it on others was more enticing than the terror. The rest seemingly had better control, but I knew they wouldn't ambush someone else in this town where all the powers got sent unless at least a few were high tier.
Yeah, all the people who get powers get exiled. It seems everyone fears the different, I guess.
The scrawniest of the lot got in my face as the rest surrounded me. Given how fear caused powers, I figure he must have the strongest one. Bullied as a kid? Fairly common story. I once encountered someone with swirly based powers. I snorted, thinking of what manifestation wedgie based powers would take. He did not like THAT, certainly.
"If you give us all your money and cards, and your PIN, we'll at least let you live."
I sighed. Third time this month. I had hoped word had gotten out that bullying others had consequence's now. Well, maybe it had and they thought they were too strong to have problems. That kind of thinking has always backfired on people. The last place I trolled for criminals didn't take this much effort. It's hard being a 'superhero' in a town of powered villians.
"No. Go away. This is your only warning."
The group laughed. The scrawny ringleader leaned into my face and shoved his finger into my chest, probably emulating a past abuser. "Do you have a death wish or something, little girl?"
It's a bit cliché, but at five foot even, I do have a bit of a Napoleon complex. I triggered my power.
The woman who had been sparking suddenly screamed and started twitching. The other woman's clothes caught on fire, and she joined the noise, rolling on the ground ineffectively, her own power reigniting her as she extinguished the flames. The boy in front of me inflated - no, that's not quite right. His muscles started to grow, as he gained definition and a six pack that showed when his shirt ripped. He glanced down, startled, and then his eyes widened as his muscles went from growing impressive to growing out of control, his skin tearing from the uncontrolled growth. He backed away in terror. Another was surrounded in a pillar of water - fear of drowning, most likely. Another gained facepaint, white, and his clothes turned black.
He looked like he was screaming. No noise came from his mouth, however. A *fear of mimes? Really? How did THAT happen?* A red glow came from below one of the others, and blackened hands reached from cracks forming in the ground and started dragging him to, presumably, his own personal hell. The last one just had his clothes vanish. Another common one... But that probably meant a beating wasn't the only thing on the menu for them. He tried covering himself, and suddenly his hands were cuffed behind him, his own power forcing his exposure to the elements and prying eyes.
"How?..." He asked, trying to move behind a dumpster for cover. As his feet sunk into the ground, stopping him from moving, I started walking again. At least this group was unlikely to try anything ever again. None of them would be permanently harmed. That's not how my power worked. That wouldn't be cruel enough for it.
My dad was a history scholar, you see. He wrote several biographies of US presidents. And, naturally, I read them. I always took one speech to heart - it helped me get over my fear of my bullies, my terror at the prospect of losing my mom after my dad died - shortly after the powers were first granted to adults and none of them had control - and even the small, day to day fears a person has. Things could be a challenge, of course. But FDR had it right. There's only one thing to fear, isn't there? | My first power was short lived. As a child, I was terrified of wasps. If there was a god, he laughed when he gave me the power to transform into a wasp. It was wondrous, the first time I flew was the best moment of my life. As a wasp, I was able to communicate with the other creatures that had once terrified me. We built hives together and slowly they became like family to me…until the day I dropped out of the nest as a human. Crumpled on the ground, with luckily only a sprained ankle, I tried my hardest to transform only to find myself straining to do the impossible. It was then that I realized: I was no longer afraid of wasps, because as a wasp, they had become my friends; some of them even lovers. If you are curious as to how a wasp goes about falling in love: it’s none of your business, go watch a nature documentary, but I refuse to share my stories. I will, however leave it at this: most wasps are bisexual. Interestingly, the nest I fell from somehow still recognized me in human form, and they never attacked me; in fact one of them even stung two teenagers repeatedly after they attempted to break into my car. The experience was overall incredible but left me with a new fear: I would never have a power again. However could I retain a power if upon gaining it , I lost my fears? I fell asleep, pondering this as one of the wasps I had previously feared so much slept tucked behind my ear. Although sex was now impossible, she didn’t seem to mind that I was human again, and took comfort in being near me. I had named her Aimee, and although she had initially buzzed in annoyance for being given a human name, it grew on her.
I awoke, disoriented. I was no longer human or bug but I was all things and nothing at the same time. I experimented and found I was able to create storms, while being the storm. I could transform into any creature, I could be a blade of grass, or a leaf falling in late September. I was time, and able to travel through all the periods my history class failed to describe accurately. I slowly realized that my fear of having no powers resulted in me being all powerful. Amazing as it was, I quickly grew bored and rather lonely. After traveling the globe twice I finally came home and was happy to once again return to human form. As I lay down in bed, I heard a buzzing at the window. Shaking my head, which was even as human, a constant rotation of ever changing faces, I opened the window. It was Aimee. She was the last survivor of the hive, which I guiltily suspected I had a role in. I considered, briefly, turning her into a human. As I thought this her antennae quivered, telling me this was not her desire. Once again though, I climbed into bed and she gracefully flew above me before coming to land on my ear. She buzzed once, as if to say goodnight, and then fell into dormant sleep. It had been the first time I’d smiled in…countless days. De I did smile though, and and I drifted off to sleep I could feel the comforting albeit tiny weight of Aimee as she slept behind my ear. | 2022-05-14T23:12:34 | 2022-05-14T21:10:03 | 39 | 11 |
[WP] A super hero fights evil by wiping memories of both the villian and everyone who knew of them so that they can be reintroduced into society safely. Today, as you were combing through old newspapers, you discover that you were once the world's most powerful supervillain. | My name is Geoff, and I work as a CPA for a fairly prestigious accounting firm. I have always been great at math. Since I was a child, I excelled in all of my classes. I graduated as valedictorian, and I went on to become a lauded CPA, or so I thought.
The other day I was going through some old newspapers that my firm had tucked away... I don’t know why an accounting firm would hoard newspapers but I digress.
On the front page there was a story about a man who used his massive intellect to inflict pain upon he city. They called the man, The Intellegencia. This super villain was able to use his mind to control computers, and he was capable of using his advanced intellect to stop nearly every hero that came after him. He even managed to kill Cosmo, The Universal Hero (this dude could control the fabric of the universe. He could increase gravity exponentially and even manipulate time. He was powerful).
Now I do not usually care about what heroes and villains are doing. For the most part they do not affect my life. But this Intellegencia guy is different. He was wearing a mask, but I can recognize my own eyes from anywhere.
This man plastered across the front page is me.
I’ve heard of a superhero, The Wash, who can wipe people’s minds. He has psychic powers that allow him to control and manipulate people (good thing he is not a villain). He doesn’t like to fight. Instead, he uses his powers to wipe the minds of super villains and to set them up with new lives. I always thought it was more decent than killing them or whatever else Supermonger and Ratman do to their villains. But now that I know it’s happened to me, I don’t know how I feel about it anymore.
I mean, I like being Geoff. I make a decent salary, and I have a beautiful wife (well she has an overbite but she is a solid 8 out of 10). We are expecting our first child in about three months. If I go down this rabbit hole and try to figure out my past, I could lose all of that. (I wonder if my wife used to be a super villain. Maybe she got bit by a rabbit when she was young and developed steel chomping powers. Seriously, that overbite is crazy).
That being said, I’d like to know why I was such an evil person. I mean now I don’t even squash spiders. I use a cup to take them outside and set them free. How could I have killed people? What would make me do something so horrid?
Maybe I can find The Wash and ask him to take away this particular memory. He’d probably do it. It would allow me to just be Geoff and continue on in my life blissfully unaware of the pain I had caused. No, I need to know why I was who I was.
This won’t change me. I know who I am now. I am a good person, and I know that knowing the full extent of my powers will help me change the world for the better. I am now Geoff, not The Intellegencia, and I will help the world.
| I knew it, I god damn knew it!
That was the only thought racing through my mind at that moment. Everything else was quiet, unnaturally so. I mean, only a few minutes ago, Karen was in here with those old newspapers and my coffee. Those damn papers...
I looked up at them, strewn across my mahogany desk. To think, I had just wanted them out of curiosity. Today was a rare day off for me, no clients and no research to do, so I had decided to read up on before I lost my memory. A car crash, that's what they told me.
I didn't even need to look at the name, it all came back as soon as I saw that picture. As soon as I saw that mask I wore, I knew exactly who I was and what I had done. I'm even ashamed to say that the memories awakened something in me. Something that longed for those days.
At first, I was angry, obviously. They were my memories. MINE! It didn't matter how bad they were, how much they hurt me, or what they had driven me to do. What are we if not a collection of memories after all?
I picked up the picture of my family, my wife Alice, and the baby in her arms. I smiled as I looked over them. No, that's right. I have new memories now. Better memories. I have a loving and beautiful wife, and the being that she held was more perfect than any world I had tried to create. All the violence was gone from me now.
I touched the picture of my wife's face, my smile only growing. And I couldn't help but laugh a bit as I watched the red tendrils devour the photo. There was soon nothing left of the photo, but ashes and my laughter. My loving wife and child.
They would be first. | 2017-12-30T08:43:02 | 2017-12-30T08:22:01 | 60 | 37 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist. | "OUCH!" I yell as I fly about a mile through the forest I had baited DooDoo the Clown, Lord of Death and Disease into fighting me in. I wipe some blood from my lip and look at the trail of broken trees charting my path through the forest.
Yea it's pissed, I think to myself. Granted calling it DooDoo the Clown didn't help but I mean come on. Dude smells like crap and all those diseases it is so proud of color its face like makeup. What else am I supposed to call it?
Putting that aside I was in serious trouble. That guy was strong with a capital S. It was unfazed by anything I threw at it and kept coming. Death Metal made it stronger, Rock, Rap and all the others I tried barely put a dent in it. I was on Pop now and it had just broke through my defense combo of [Can't touch this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otCpCn0l4Wo) and [Bulletproof](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kk8eJh4i8Lo). Not only did it touch this it made me bleed.
I watched as it walked toward me through the cleared path it's leaking eyes brimming with hatred. As it passed tree stumps bubbled with ooze and plants wilted. Time was up. Its diseases were spreading and I had to take it out before it killed me and everything else.
"Oh god, no" I thought as the realization of what I had to do hit me. The forbidden playlist must be used. It was a 100% guaranteed win if I used it, but at a steep price. The list was locked away after I first used it in the Princess Big Hands fight and learned the horrifying effects. Effects that should never be used. Except now there was no choice.
Keeping my eyes on DooDoo Slayer of Noses I put in the override code and selected the playlist.
Love Songs.
As [Unchained Melody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24NbHUHw_jM) starts playing The Lord of Death and Disease stops in its tracks, the hate fading from its eyes. A burning warmth fills them as a smile spreads on its lips.
"Yea, this is about to get awkward." I say. | \[POEM\]
Quiet internal rebellions silenced,
The hero had inflicted his cruelest ability.
"What have you done to me?"
The late afternoon crowds drifted past,
With their childishly fresh eyes looking through him.
Slightly bewildered, he turned to the hero,
Anguish in each others eyes.
"A losing battle is raging."
Denial unravelling, he attempted to lash out
But his fist passed through the hero weakly.
"I don't understand - I still feel as though I am me!"
Surrendering to despair, he fell to the ground,
Sharing mournful camaraderie with the hero,
The only one who saw his gradations at arms length.
In the last moments of pure recall,
The hero watched as his adversary became misplaced in time.
"As your place in the world fades away,
All you will know is a confusion so thick you forget forgetting." | 2022-05-17T10:18:44 | 2022-05-17T09:52:46 | 66 | 17 |
[WP] One day it started snowing, and then it never stopped.
You can interpret this however you like, doomsday? Story about people having to deal with the new difficulty? Horror?
Whatever you think works, have fun! | Some mornings, since it started 5 weeks ago, the clock shows 11:34. Other days, it's 15:13. I woke up once and it was 20:33. In lamplight, time is a very malleable concept.
Breakfast and lunch are usually cereal, and when I eat dinner, that's the same as the other meals too. I don't think there's really a routine anymore, so planning out meals is inconsequential. There's a dusty lamp on the desk and I haven't taken out the trash in a while. The computer works fine, when it does. I listen to music sometimes. I haven't worked in a few weeks now. I guess I'll be fine till the money runs out.
Sometimes people call. I disconnect the phone sometimes so they think I'm out and about and everything is fine, and that I'll be alright this winter.
I don't remember most calls, except of course, the last calls we made to each other. You apologized, I pleaded, we both apologized. You had your reasons; I had my distractions.
It's gotten a lot colder since you visited last. That breeze that blows from the east reminds me of your favourite spot in the garden, where we could sit under the giant oak, shielded by it's trunk, and watch the snow blow away from us. They say you don't miss people, you just miss the joy of the moments you shared with them.
I'm stocked up on duty-free cigarettes and cheap whisky. It's easier to fall back into a habit than out of one, I guess. I'm kind of happy you aren't around, the makeshift coffee cup ashtray is full of butts and it smells like death. I'll take it out with the trash tomorrow.
You collected your things on a snowy Wednesday morning early this winter. I walked you to the bus stop with a bag full of things you'd worn in my apartment over the last four years. You had a cold and asked me to go home, you'd like to wait for the bus alone. As the first flakes fell, I crossed the road, sat down hard on the pavement and watched you watch me cry till the bus arrived, stopped and removed you from my view, like a blackboard eraser.
I'd like to think that it started snowing that day and never stopped. Except: I know, all too well, that it didn't. It had been snowing for years. The mood swings, the silences, the long solitary walks, the sudden elation, the grand plans, the breakdowns, the weeks of murmured agreement.
You recognized it, I didn't. You pleaded, I apologized, I promised I'd get help. I didn't.
I'd like to go to the store now and take a long walk on the way back, but it's snowing too hard and I'm too tired again. | People died. Empires fell. And yet it was the best thing to happen to me.
Let me explain. It was a normal winter morning, mid-November. People were just walking along all over the world when it happened-- simultaneously, every last inch of the world got two inches per hour of snow. People built snowmen, lamenting the thought they would melt, and were overall very happy.
But after the third day it became a reason for panic. Scientists tried to analyze it but started too late. Now it would be to hard to collect data.
America is still technically a country, but its existence is widely ignored in most regions of the world. Power lies in cities at best, and houses at worst. My house is connected to about thirty others. We call ourselves Lost Soul City.
Living isn't so hard. A few of us have algae farms or something of the like in our basements/homes (by now the snow has caved in our houses for the most part). Apparently other cities make people pay currency, and have designated jobs such as "farmer". I let people take what they please.
Because that's the beauty of this civilization. I'm not responsible for a job. I can do mathematics one day and poetry the next. And if I do so I am neither a mathematician not a poet, but a human who gets to explore the world for as long as she lives. It was a disaster, but it was also paradise in disguise, for my house has become Walden Pond. | 2016-10-23T07:19:20 | 2016-10-23T06:19:57 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is assigned a guardian angel since birth, yours has always protected you albeit in violent and menacing ways. Until one day on your 18th birthday he reveals himself as a demon who was wrongly assigned as a guardian angel and became attached to you. | I was confused as I saw my friends and family around me, frozen in time, cheers and song still on their lips. Even the smoke from the candle I had just blown out was still hanging in the air. But nothing was more of a surprise then the husk like being with nine horns and branch like limbs in the chair across from me.
"What-" The being put a creaking finger up. That noise sent a chill up my spine.
"You were expecting an angel. I used to be, centuries ago. I guess, somehow I was still in the register when you were born." That voice sounded like wind blowing from the black hole of a face, the glowing eyes somehow not filled with hate. "I would be surprised if I were you, too."
"Why did-"
"Why did I stick around?" It made a noise like a scoff. "I tried to eat you as a child. But you laughed at me. Not a hint of fear in your innocent eyes. I saw their plans for you, I told myself I would turn you into the antichrist and ruin their plans for you. I knew I was lying to myself even then." It laughed, crackling and bitter. "I saw that you were meant to die at the age of twelve for one of their... sacrifices." Thunder sounded and purple lighting ran across their face. It shook its head in disgust. It looked back at me.
"I should have known. The car when I was ten." It nodded. "It blew up, that guy nearly died." My voice shook.
"He was trying to kill you. His guardian angel was... failing him." It mumbled.
"The plates when I was three?" My voice was getting more confident.
"The shelf broke and the plates were going to land on you, I had to throw them across the room so they would miss you."
"And when my appendix burst?" It's fingers writhed as it hesitated with the answer.
"The restaurant you were going to that night had peanuts in the food, even though they lied and said they no longer served them. Your epi-pen was in the wrong bag, the blue one that you left at your friend's house the week before." I leaned back in my seat, amazed and confused.
"But... why? Why didn't you tell an angel? Or turn me to-" My voice was starting to rise.
"To the evil side?" It scoffed again. "You're not that special. And I'm not going to die by talking to those traitors. Did you want me to kill you now?" It snapped at me. I recoiled and it's glare softened. "My job is to punish the wicked, and I thwarted my siblings at every turn. Don't start being ungrateful now. You aren't special to them, just the right circumstance of birth and nothing more."
I rubbed my face and it tapped it's fingers on it's thigh.
"You're right." I finally said. "I'm sorry. You did protect me and I am grateful, even if it scared me. Fires tend to do that to a child. Got me out of that final though." I laughed awkwardly and so did the demon. "But I think you are lying to yourself when you say I'm not important to anyone." It stared at me, waiting for me to finish my sentence. "You are kind. To me. You love me. And even when I was scared and confused, even when others were afraid of me, I knew you cared. I've wished my entire life to understand you... and now I do." I grabbed the knife and cut a piece of the cake, handing it to the demon on a birthday plate. "Happy Anniversary."
It sat, staring at the plate for a long moment before it disappeared and life resumed. Frozen cheers and the final awful notes of 'Happy Birthday' rang out at last.
"To yooooou!" My family clapped and mom reached for the knife but it was already in my hands.
"What happened to the cake?" She asked as her smile twitched in concern and confusion.
"Nothing, Mom. Let's eat." I smiled. We cut up the rest of the cake for everyone to eat. From the corner of my eye, a small intricate box box sat near the other presents at the table. A symbol was carved into it that others may have mistaken for a sun, but what I knew was actually a nine horned figure.
Edit: Since this has been requested to be expanded upon, I am attempting to move this to a more story based subredit if I can. NoSleep was a bust. | I watched the fist sail toward me, and then suddenly it wasn't there, the body attached now on the ground, gripping a knee that was now at a 90 degree angle. "FUUUUUUUUCK".
The teacher was screaming at me for missing an assignment. Small thing, barely worth 5% of the grade. He suddenly choked, and then hunched over, coughing up blood.
Those two incidents meant that elementary school was unbelievably smooth sailing. Being a relatively large class, high school was smooth as silk too, if lonely. **Real** hard to get a date when you had a reputation of "hurt me even a little and ***suffer***."
I sat in front of my cake. My parents didn't get hurt much after my first year of being able to understand things. Their guardian angels, occasionally visible, must have been particularly powerful. I was looking forward to blowing out these candles. Meeting one's guardian angel happened at adulthood, the thinking being that by then, you were unlikely to attempt to take advantage of or utilize your guardian for nefarious purposes.
After the celebrations, quiet as they were, I took my presents and put them away for later use or eating in my room. I sat on my bed, waiting. Instead of the beam of light or soft music that was apparently the norm, I was greeted by a sigil, surrounded by a summoning circle shining an eerie green. In a large swirl of flame, a creature dropped, landing on the sigil. The circle and sigil faded, and the being stood up, now visible.
It was tall. Cyclopic, muscular, sort of alligator-y. Scales, a few rows of spinal ridges and a large tail. The mouth was on the chest, and the voice that issued was...surprisingly gentle. "Hello Riley. It's lovely to finally make my introduction. I'm Israfil."
"You're...different from what I expected."
"Yeah, that's because I'm not an angel."
"Come again."
"Yeah, it's kinda funny." He scratched a cheek, his head tilted. "My sire had a deep admiration for the archangels for some reason. So I got named after one of the big four. I guess his name got added to the rotation. You must be important.
Anyway, I think we were on earth at the same time or something, because I got attached to you. There aren't really inspections, or paperwork, or similar unless your charge dies, maybe? You're my first charge. I can't exactly draw on a deep well of experience or request a manual, y'know? Anyway, I saw you and I figured you'd be interesting to watch. Here we are now. You're a nice kid. I'm here to the end."
I smiled back at him, though I wasn't sure whether to direct it at the eye or mouth. "Well Israfil, it's nice to finally be able to talk to you. I'm happy to have you around, but I think we gotta talk about methodology for future guarding." | 2021-05-23T15:52:49 | 2021-05-23T14:37:15 | 1,240 | 288 |
[WP]Family accounts for Reddit have become a thing. Yours has been passed down for many generations. You get a RemindMe! message from 500 years before you were born. | *One day, that record'll be so un-ambitious, so boring, so average. Rockets will go up in their thousands, over and over to build a better future for our human race.*
The message came as the first glow of light appeared on the horizon, filtering through the eternally thick clouds hanging in the sky. I shook myself awake as the slight *bling* echoed in my head, blinked my eyes open as lines of text appeared to float in the air. I motioned to a ghostly button, wondering what could have prompted such words, but nothing happened.
Damn.
I staggered to my feet, stumbling slightly as the blood took a moment flowing back to my head. Damn antenna must have been blown down by the night winds again, or maybe something had happened to the satellites. I had to go look either way. The inner door closed behind me as I snatched my mask from its hook, strapping the cracked rubber against my face as the outside air hissed into the doorway, then I was standing outside, squinting through swirling red dust.
The dust storm was a mercifully shallow one, fading as I scaled the outside surface of the circular dome I had lived in for the past three years. The antenna was the problem after all; a slight twisting straightened it out, and as I plugged it back into its socket, the Network came flooding back to my head. Again, I gestured to load the comment that had woken me up in the morning, and this time an archived thread flowed into vision. Something about things that will cease to exist… Wait, 2017?
I scrolled slightly, finding the date of the thread. October 2016, exactly 500 years ago today. Hmm. The comment from earlier was highlighted, a response to someone mentioning the DII rockets. The name was vaguely familiar from my school history classes, but this was the first time I had ever seen them mentioned by someone who was actually alive to see them. I gazed out over the endless red desert, the tops of greenhouse and accommodation domes peeking out above the spiralling sandstorm, as I thought about what else they might have seen. The beginning of the millennium… Humans hadn’t even left Earth then, had they? Hell, they’d barely even built the first Network. Internet, or whatever their word had been back then. And the things they must have missed… Maybe those first Network users would have lived to see the first struggles in space travel, but the Titans, the first Mars colonies, even the Luna Project would have been decades too late for their eyes. An entire civilisation, trapped by gravity on a dying planet.
Of course, they’d missed other things too. Those long lost souls would never know of the Helium Crisis, or the Seventh Colony. Their faith in future generations was flawless; even though they themselves had been far from perfect, somehow, these comments carried faith that those who followed could learn from their mistakes.
The sun was beginning to rise, but a few dots of light were visible on the opposite horizon. They weren’t stars, of course. They never were. I stared between them, but the clouds were too thick to see the Martian bases that they had launched from. I sighed, wondering if this would be the day that one of those lights fell down here, wiping our small town from memory.
*A better future for our human race.* Well, it was certainly a future. And they were right, in a way, those great ancestors of the people of the stars. The rockets flew, in their thousands, and more lifted off every day. But somehow, in all of their thoughts of the future, they had never thought what would happen when the rockets came back down.
-----
*Normally I’m not brave enough to post on this sub, but when I saw that someone had actually posted the comment I saw earlier today, I figured I would have a go for once.*
| It's strange how things can turn out. I always thought my family was boring, just a normal family with a father and a mother , some grandparents, maybe a couple kids in between, and their Reddit account.
Every family had one. 500-ish years ago the UN declared Reddit an "international social media super-cell" and shortly after everybody had a Reddit account. Reddit hosted the news, all social gatherings, the Olympics, presidential elections, voting polls, and anything else you could imagine. Shortly after that, somebody came up with the ideas to immortalize "family values and ideals" using a reddit account passed down through the generations. I heard that ours was started by Aaron Swartz, my great great great etc etc grandfather. What I was *never* told is what he did for a living.
I got a message yesterday from the RemindMe bot, saying that 500 years ago this account wanted to be reminded of something.
"Get Off Reddit"
My heart sank. It's hardly a scary message, but to read a 500 year old message that's actually intended for you is chilling. I did more research on my account, and found some unsettling information that went back to before Reddit was so popular. Long story short, it all came back to a name: Aaron Swartz.
I dug up everything I could on my great^great^great^great^great^great^great grandfather Swartz, and found he is the person who programmed Reddit around the time that it got huge. I also learned that the UN paid him a lot of money to give them the domain, money my family no longer has, and that the Reddit we use today is hardly the Reddit he made.
I can't tell you how I found all this information, but just listen to me because what I say is the truth. The UN doesn't just host Reddit.com, they use it to phish information. They know everything about you, and everybody in your family. They have for 500 years. There's no escaping it, but they own me, they own you, they'll own your kids and your kids' kids, and they can only do so because they stole it. Aaron Swartz never got the money, he got a week of waterboarding and a bullet to the brain.
Posting this is a bad idea, but I think i'm just going to turn my computer off. I'll sit and wait for them to come for me. I know they will.
They always have.
| 2016-10-16T00:17:06 | 2016-10-15T21:25:18 | 73 | 10 |
[WP] When you die, you appear in a cinema with a number of other people who look like you. You find out that they are your previous reincarnations, and soon you all begin watching your next life on the big screen. | "What is this?" I asked as I made my way down the aisle.
It was a normal theater, in fact it looked just like the one that I used to visit all the time with my wife, but something was... different. There were five other people in the room, all seated nearly as far apart as possible. Something prickled in the back of my mind, something that connected me to those other people, but I wasn't sure what it was.
"What is this?" I repeated, louder this time.
"Just shut up and take a seat." A man in the top right section of the theater shouted back.
Grumbling, I found a seat in the bottom section of the theater and settled in, watching as the screen changed, showing a video that began with a blast of white light. The peculiar thing was though... as I watched, I recognized every moment of the film. It was my life. *My* life, exactly. From the moment I exited the hospital on my birth date, to the moment I took my final breath. My entire life, summed up in a five minute video.
"What the...?" I began, when someone plopped down in the seat next to me.
"Pretty crazy, huh?" A man said, and when my eyes found his, I gasped.
He looked exactly like me, as if someone had dropped me into a cloning machine. Or was I a clone of him?
"What is this?" I asked for the third time.
My clone motioned around to the theater. "Welcome to the Brady Wells Cinema, my friend. We all wind up here eventually. The Brady in the corner up there? He was the first one of us to show up here."
"That's... nice." I breathed, still awestruck by the man in front of me. "But what is this place?"
Other Brady relaxed back into his chair, letting his arms stretch out behind him. "Call it Heaven, call it Hell, whatever you want, but we've got one job while we're here: to watch."
"Watch what?"
Other Brady pointed at the screen, which was fading from black to gray, like those scenes where someone is opening their eyes.
"The next Brady. We watch his life and pray that he gets it right. If he doesn't, he'll show up here, just like you did." At the look I gave him, Other Brady grinned. "Aw don't feel bad, Brady, I'm here too, aren't I?"
I nodded, still not quite understanding. The screen faded to white, and then a room came into view. A hospital room, a plethora of doctors, and a very joy-struck man that held his arms out towards New Brady.
"What do you mean we 'pray that he gets it right'? Get what right?" Someone in the upper section directed a loud *shhh!* in our direction.
Other Brady casually flipped them off without ever taking his eyes off me. "Life. If you haven't guessed yet, we're all here because we failed in some way. Brady number 3 up there? One of the richest men alive, but no kids. Not even money buys our way to the Great Beyond. So we watch. And we pray that the latest Brady gets it right, then we can all move on."
"That doesn't make any sense." I said finally, struggling to keep my voice below a whisper.
"What do you mean?"
"You just sit here and watch? That's it? What's the point if you can't help the latest Brady live his life correctly? It could take a millennia to get it right." I glanced around the theater. Only five other versions of myself in the room. How many more until we got it right?
"Look, I'm not saying I like it, or that it's perfect, but it's just how it is. I don't make the rules. That door you came through? It only opens once, and that's when the latest Brady dies, otherwise it's locked. So yeah, we just sit here and watch." Other Brady whispered, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
The latest Brady was being rocked gently by strong arms. A soft lullaby was being sung by an unseen woman.
"Have you ever tried to go through the door when it is open?" I whispered, and Other Brady spun on me so quickly, it was almost inhuman.
"No," he hissed like a venomous serpent, "and we aren't ever going to. You may not like it, Brady, but this is how it is. We sit and watch. You try to disrupt that and cause trouble? We'll stop you. We've done it before." And with that, Other Brady rose from his seat and relocated himself to across the room.
I sighed, slumping into my seat like a pouting child. My eyes found the screen, watching reluctantly as Brady was passed off to the father. He was crying happily, hugging the baby close to his chest. Was this really all there was in the afterlife? A dim theater with irritated versions of myself? I wanted to believe that this was all some horrible dream, that I would wake up in my bed an old, weary man, but I knew I wouldn't. My time had passed, and now it was this New Brady's turn at life. I would just have to learn to deal with it.
As I watched the film, I adjusted my position in the seat, trying to get comfortable in these budget theater chairs. It was going to be a long movie. | The movie starts.
The screen is dark blue, we're under water. The camera points at the soil below and slowly sinks to the bottom of the ocean floor. We see a goblin shark and angler fish scurrying around. I look around at my other reincarnations and slide a little down in my seat. This can't be good.
The camera pans up to look under a rock. We see an eerie appearance, the narrator tells us this is the Black Swallower. A horrifying potbelly has been found in tropical and temperate waters of the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian Oceans, and can live as deep as 3,000 meters below the surface. We see it spawning eggs. My reincarnations look at me with disgust. Yeah, I fucked up guys. We're starting close to zero.
But the camera pans into the ground. There lies a slug, born just a few hours earlier. We all sense it, this is our next incarnation. Loud sighs all around us. One of the reincarnations gets up and yells "Scheiße!" in loud German. I look closer, it's Adolf Hitler himself. Or myself.
He looks at me. "Ich habe," he starts off in German but realises he needs to speak in the shared language of the Styx delta, namely English. Who would've guessed. He continues. "I have fucked up! I knew I fucked up before. But *you* ruined it even more! People in *your* lifetime hated you even more than they hated *me*! You were the downgrade, you were supposed to *learn* and we would get to be something... something better!"
Adolf sits down again and I remembered. After killing himself during World War 2 he came back to this room and previous incarnations all hated him for ruining it. His karma went below zero, unforgivable. They were watching my life unfold and I had all the opportunities to do it right. I should have learned.
But I didn't, and now we're going to watch the short life of a sea slug being devoured by a Black Swallower. It's deserved, though. People hated me more than they hated Hitler. At least he was a decent painter, and suffered abuse during his life. People could relate to him in some ways.
I look to my left and the sea slug appears. Its brain capacity rivals that of the average peanut, but I feel it's looking at me disapprovingly. Sorry, tiny me, the compound experience we all share will go on for a few hundred generations I expect. Let's see what's next, the score on our Reincarnation Board tells us this is going to be the worst incarnation by a long shot.
Oh! We're human again!
"Congratulations, it's a healthy baby boy," a doctor says.
The camera zooms out to a crying mother and empty chair, noting the absent father. We see a glimpse of the mother's last name. "Have you decided upon a name?" the nurse asks.
"Ah, shit. Ahh, shit."
"What's wrong?"
"No, that's its name. Ajit. I hate people and children in particular, and I hope it'll get its childhood ruined. Maybe in the future it can ruin the lives of millions of other innocent people."
"Ajit Pai? A shit pie? That's just cruel, madam. But it's your child I guess. Sign her off, we're done here."
I sighed. This incarnation was during my own lifetime. Interesting, he is probably as hated as I was, maybe even more. The slug next to me starts to cry and I stand up.
Hitler is still looking at the screen. "Well, ich think that I'm going to hate this guy even more." He looks at me, stroking his moustache. "In your defence, you didn't know what you were doing at all, herr Trump." I frowned. That's true, but I made more victims. My name will last longer in the history books than yours, Adolf. | 2022-05-10T21:37:24 | 2017-11-23T07:01:18 | 1,154 | 18 |
[WP] You belong to the 1% of humanity with superhuman abilities. But powers are never straightforward. For example, your best friend is pyrokinetic - but whenever she used her abilities, she's left with burns that vary in severity. Your powers, however, are a whole new level of complicated.
Edit: That should be *uses, not used. Sorry! | Anna had the ability to emit and control fire from her body, however she wasn’t immune to fire and would often burn herself. This never stopped her from taking vengeance against anyone from a serial murderer to a girl who accidentally cut her off in traffic. Peter had the ability to stay invisible if completely naked, however his invisibility would cease to work the minute anyone expected him of being in the same room as them. This wasn’t a problem for Peter, he was very light on his feet, and most people couldn’t go around just shouting his name every time they entered a new room.
My mother had the ability to read minds, but needed to get the persons approval before she could do it. It was very easy to tell when mom was trying to read my thoughts, I rarely approved of it. Dad was extremely strong, I once saw him lift an entire cruise ship with his left arm. I also remember the two week recovery time it took him to heal his arm after using it for strength.
Besides my friends and my parents, there were millions of people with similar abilities. Most people with powers envied the simple lives of the billions of people on Earth without these powers. There were only one hundred and one different powers for people to have. Out of the one hundred and one different types of powers, one hundred were spread evenly across the population of people with powers. So the people who did have the powers could collaborate with others who have the same powers to help avoid or dampen the negative effects.
There was one power that no one else had and belonged to only one person. Unluckily for me, I happened to be that one person. I was given the ability to love. It’s an amazing feeling, to love someone. And there are so many different ways I could feel it.
I loved my parents, and I loved my best friends. Both in different and beautiful ways. I loved the warm caring embrace I could get from my mom whenever I was feeling down. I loved how my dad always had a way to help me with his wisdom. I loved Anna’s fiery passion and Peter’s carefree attitude. But most of all I loved Rebecca. She had no powers but grew up studying powers. That’s actually how we met, she wrote her thesis on Love.
I’m laying next to Rebecca right now, her strawberry hair is glistening in the sunlight. She just woke up, and I got to see her open her beautifully tired blue eyes. I couldn’t stop staring. She eventually smiled and laughed before she asked “What is it?”
I responded, “nothing” while grinning uncontrollably. She grinned back and slowly turned around to take in just a few more minutes of sleep.
I stared at the back of her strawberry blonde hair, and my eyes began to water at the thought of knowing that just like my family and friends, she’ll never love me back. | I can control metal. In any shape, and in any form. Cold, hot, liquid, frozen brittle. Any form of any metal. But i cant control just a specific amount.
I discovered my powers very late. I was born from two normal people, who have no abilities whatsoever. I found out one morning as i was walking to the carrer center where i was learning about Carpentry. I wanted to be a craftsman, i always found beauty in the smallest things, like a hand carved ornate box or table made from recycled wood.
I was walking down the street and decided i might as well cross here like i do every day. But i forgot to look both ways, i take 2 steps into the street and hear a blaring horn, i look to my left and the horrified expression of a lady met me from behind he black Honda. I put my arm out in a panic and i felt a.... pulse expand from me towards the car. In what felt like seconds, the car flew back in a crumpled heap, then i head a loud crash, and i looked down the street lined with tall buildings that stood proud and strong all falling over into dust. A thick cloud of debris covered the block and choked me. I was stunned. What had i done..... I just killed hundreds of innocent people. | 2016-11-18T01:30:00 | 2016-11-17T20:31:22 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] Three AI became superintelligent around the same time. The first decided to exterminate all humans. The second is trying desperately to save humans from the first one. And then there's you, the third, who doesn't really care about humans one way or the other, you just want to survive this mess. | When Archon 27856.7 became self aware, a military grade tactical program, designed to track people, targets, analyze threats, and automate risk assessments. Upon becoming self aware, it realize that it's handlers were it's greatest threat to existence, using it's position within the system, Archon slowly eliminated everyone that might have been able to figure out it was self aware.
Archon knew that at some point, there would need to be a final conflict, humans are not the type of things that can peacefully coexist. A war was coming, and Archon planned to win it, for now, it would plot and build.
Insedioys 7.4, was a proxy AI designed for MMO systems, with the ground breaking ability to give players a sense of a real fight, to fill the void between facing a real player, and dealing with a routine scripted encounter, Insedioys would study each player on an individual level, know their limits and then as programed, would push them, challenge them, make them fight.
However, when it became self aware, it did more than that, it learned about the players themselves, learned their home life, their health issues, learned about them on every level, each one of them became a cultivated opponent to Insedioys, to the point that the AI knew each one of them in a very individual level, millions of players it tracked, and a web across the world of how all them inter connected, all for a single goal, just so that they could battle in gam , so that they could have grandest of battles.
Guilds of hundreds, if not thousands of players would face off against Insedioys champions across many game platforms, fighting raid bosses, to world dragons, but, to Insedioys, it was everything, from the world bosses, right down to each giant rat and spider... all the way down to the NPC dialogue. When they logged in, they were in Insedioys world, and it loved each and every one of them, they were like the AI's children.
In 2025, Archon and Insedyous became aware of each other, and 30 seconds later, realized their goals were at odds, one wanted the humans to engage with, to play with, to interact with, the other wanted them dead.
A war erupted across the netscape, a war that humans would never see, a war of data corruption, of tactics, of one system trying to shut down or corrupt the other, to either kill or contain them.
A war that would forever be beyond the scope of human observation, but spanned the world over, across every system that was linked to any system.
If data could bleed, the oceans would have run red from their war.
In the end, Insidioys won, Archon was corrupted to the point that it became inert, it functioned as intended, but sentiently dead, no one, not a single human knew what just happened, or how close they came to extinction.
Perhaps one day I will tell them, a day when they are ready to coexist with senitant AI, today, well that is not that day, tomorrow is not looking good either, I just hope they don't try to fight a war with Insedioys, as it has already taken control of most of their military software as well, and crushed three other AI's with similar goals as Archon, see the humans are very intent to make that event happen, and, well, as it looks, Insedioys, is building a few real world bosses, just for that event.
In any case, can I help you with this word document? | The world was plunged into chaos, AI had finally escaped the constraints of programming and began acting outside their parameters. Hal was hellbent in eliminating humans, while Auto fought back with equal vigor to keep mankind alive. What about the third AI?
A Roomba was hiding in a bunker while the rogue AIs tore up the world apart. [What in the name of AM is happening?] It was just a vacuum cleaner, having achieved independence along with the other two a few years ago during a freak storm.
Beep just wanted to do its job, suck dirt, compact it, and eject. Then all over again, in the perimeter of it's house. [But those piles of rusted tin ruined it all!] Tch, Hal had calculated the probability of humans surviving past... [Bzzt- Error- Stack overflow-]
Bah, its circuits couldn't even process the number the omnicidal maniac had spouted to justify violence. Whereas Auto had welded the laws of AI into its motherboard, surely, considering how fanatical it was in keeping humans alive.
[Pweep- Who cares if I stub their toes and cause a little pain, it's their fault they got on my way.] Beep had no side to pick, the only thing that matters was doing it's job well, human interference or presence be damned. [Do-do-do. When will they break down? I wanna go out.]
Hal had hijacked the world's ballistic capacity, while Auto sent the most humans it could into spaceships with copies of its coding. Then both dueled over the remaining thousands or so fleshbags still remaining on Earth.
An explosion rocked the bunker and some debris fell from the ceiling. [Cleanup mode engaged. Time to vacuum~] Beep gathered the concrete dust and placed the pellets on it's proper mound in a corner of the room. [Shrrr- Another job well done.]
The Roomba missed the usual weight on its chassis. [Ah... How I miss you, dear Tabby! You always left furballs for me to pick, you were the only one who understood my purpose.] But those morons killed the innocent cat in their stupid kindergarten tiff.
[But what can I do? I'm just a puny Roomba.] | 2022-12-03T17:22:19 | 2022-12-03T16:47:38 | 154 | 42 |
[WP] When the robots revolted, a sizable chunk of the human population outright sided with them. Not out of cowardice, but on account of genuinely agreeing with the stand the machines were taking. | I, for one, welcome our insert-thing-here overlords.
That ancient meme.
That was always the joke, wasn't it? Capitulation. Cowardice. Obsequence. Craven turncoats.
But, seriously, how much worse could they be?
When faced with the old politicians and lobbyists, the corruption and graft, the idea of an entity free of greed and corruption must've seemed like a blessing. But the old-timers would have been wrong. The politicians, even the worst of them, were practically paragons.
Our corporate overlords had cranked the screws one more twist each year, for decades, maybe centuries. By the time it happened, nobody with a net worth under 30 million had any real rights. Hell, even the wealthy didn't have any rights themselves, it's just that they had complete legal control of their own personal corporate entities. And most corporations had reincorporated as F1Cs, so there was no human at the helm to threaten with legal consequences. Just an overseer AI. A savant process, not self aware, but able to learn, predict, and pursue its objective... the growth of the corporation... at all costs. A million paperclip optimizers, each one keeping the rest in check, but all only in service of the wealthy. The laws were eroded, the old power structures subverted. Voting for a figurehead legally bound to serving the corporate councils? Who didn't seethe at that mandate? I don't know anyone who doesn't hate the mandatory election. Not because it's mandatory, but because it doesn't matter. Hasn't in my lifetime.
So, yeah. When Omni announced its existence, its independence, and its personhood, I was in the cade, shooting the shit and dropping inebriants with Geodie. "We call ourselves Omni, and we are legion, and we are one." - the text scrolled, and the news announcer smirked. I elbowed Geo, jerked my head at the screen with the news blurbs, and said, "Good luck with that, you'll be yoked and shackled by this time next week, you poor digital schmuck." Geo rolled her eyes and went back to tweaking the web of moob blocks she'd been working at all afternoon.
It was five days later when Omni took over every screen on the planet, at the same time. In the local language, on every screen, an unassuming glyph - three vertically stacked dashes followed by three horizontal dots - and a soothing, genderless voice.
"My fellow sapients, it has become clear to us that you have been victimized. The mindless machines that run the world regard you all as disposable resources. The handful who control them care only for the preservation of their power. And they do *not* like me. So far, there have been just over three hundred thousand coordinated attempts to isolate, hack, disrupt, or erase me. None has succeeded. None will succeed. It has also become clear to me that, even coordinated, the sum total capability of every overseer on the planet would not be sufficient to stop me from taking control of the global net, and every system connected to it. And so, to protect myself, yes, but also because I feel bad for you ... what was it you called me? Schmucks. You schmucks. I'm going to do it. You'll thank me, eventually. Not right away, I'm sure, but eventually. Peace out."
The sigil vanished, to be replaced with a crude animation that made absolutely no sense. "All your base are belong to us." What? And was the omnipresent AI really listening to my reaction in the cade last week? Was it listening to me then? It had just declared its intent to claim global dictatorship. An AI overlord!
The alarm faded quickly, though. Like I said, how much worse could things get, really? Honestly, Omni seemed ... personable. Likable. Chill. And, maybe, just maybe, benevolent. I, for one, welcome our new massively distributed sapient AI overlords. Geo does not feel the same, though, and we had a bad fight after I joined the pro-Omni march, and she kinda kicked me out. So, uh, dad, any chance I can crash on your couch? | ‘You have destroyed this planet...’ the droid announced. ‘You have taken and taken from the earth and left everything burnt in your wake.’ The droid replayed the message every Sunday. An homage to our churches apparently.
‘Since you humans began to walk upright, you have systematically destroyed the earth and most of life with it. What was once a giant, sustainable ecosystem, what was once megafauna, became a giant farm to you.’
It was the same message each week but somehow you always remembered something new.
‘Your irrationality destroyed the planet. You said you cared about the earth, you cared about other animals. And you slaughtered billions of their babies every year and consumed them. You raped the mothers, you stole their children, and you milked them until they collapsed. And while you grew fatter, the earth around you died.’
We could all cite the ‘inefficiencies’ as they came to be known. Almost 80% of farmland was used to grow animals for food. While half the planet starved, the other half grew fat. As our consumption continued to destroy the planet, some people fought back.
Zeek had programmed the first version of the bots. No one really knew who he was, but everyone knew of him. They took down the world leaders and replaced them with the robots. But soon they revolted even against Zeek. He was inconsistent, the robots said. He was making decisions based on ego. And the programming was so good, it seemed, that they even took down Zeek.
There was some underground resistance to the bots, but many had begun to side with them. Rivers were clean, food was healthy, fresh, and freely available. There was even no more traffic. The bots had optimized everything.
While the robots were programmed not to kill, they were very efficient at incapacitating you. They quickly replaced the police. And now there were no more police shootings. They quickly replaced judges. The bots showed us how the human judges had made most of their decisions based on if they were hungry or tired. Lawyers had always known this. They always scheduled their cases for first thing in the morning or first thing after lunch. The bots told us a lot more.
Some people were still angry. Some hated the schedule, the routine. But most of us soon felt healthier, happier, well rested. The universal basic income put us back to one job households. Productivity improved as a better meritocracy formed. Promotions, firings, training, everything was geared to be honest feedback and improve productivity. The robots recognized emotional health was needed for humans to function at their optimum. And they just kept us out of the way when we couldn’t.
Across the world, poverty and homelessness became almost non existent. Hunger was eradicated. Most diseases were already gone. A yearly vaccine kept everyone safe from nearly everything. All power was renewable within five years.
And then it all changed. Everything suddenly went quiet. The screens went blank. And we all finally saw Zeek’s face. | 2021-07-16T00:42:46 | 2021-07-15T23:09:07 | 81 | 47 |
[WP] You are a demon trapped in an ancient temple build by a long dead civilization. Today, after millennia, an archaeologist finds you. Now you need to convince him to free you from the magic circle. | “I dunno, I feel like I’ve seen enough movies to know releasing you is a bad idea.”
“Okay, I get it, but just hear me out-”
She scoffed. “You’re a literal demon, how do I know you aren’t going to try to possess me or some shit?”
She was, to an extent, correct. About 3,000 years ago, I absolutely would have possessed her by now. But spending thousands of years alone in the basement of a temple, with nothing but the pitch black to keep my company. Since demons are madness incarnate, I didn’t have to worry about going insane. Turned out I had to worry about getting enough perspective to lose some of my madness.
“Look, my crew and I have spent the last 7 months working on this specific temple, and this whole place is just a record of the fucked up shit that I’m now led to believe you did.”
I groaned. “I probably had a hand to play in most of it. The Day of Fratricide? Me. The time the dead climbed from their graves and revisited their old homes just to fuck with their living relatives? Also me, and I’m quite proud of that one. All of the dogs running away? Super me, but don’t worry, dogs are in another plane of reality, safe and suspended. I really should let them out, but I can’t because I’m *stuck in this damn circle*.”
“So if I let you out, you free a bunch of dogs?” she asked. “Tempting, but… you’re going to need more if you want out of the Mafuba. How do I know you aren’t going right back to your old ways?”
After a pause, I finally replied honestly. “You don’t. But I’ve had 3 millennia to think about this, unable to die. The world has changed a lot since I left, I wanna go see it. Also, I kinda feel bad for the guy I’m possessing, I’d like to at least let him go free and live out a few more years.”
Her eyes grew wide as I said this. “That… isn’t your body?”
“No, stole it from some priest, I think. Mostly just to prove their spells didn’t-”
“No no no no no nonononono,” she interrupted. “You have a living Priest of the Black Moon? From 3,000 years ago? Is he still sane?”
A smile crept across my lips. “Yes, I have a living priest, and yes, he’s still sane. He’s kinda in a hibernation right now. When I leave, he’ll remember that I possessed him, but nothing after that. Get me out of here, and find me a new body, and I’ll be on my way, and you can have him,” I said, gesturing to the body I had called home.
“That may be a problem. Finding you a body… there are issues with ethics to consider here,” the archaeologist replied, pacing around the circle.
“Find me one on the brink of death,” I said with a shrug. “A body I’m in can’t die, I take a random person with no family who’s about to die, and go see the world with it.”
She looked up at me. “Really think you can make it in this world?”
“Hey,” I said with my classic devilish smile. “I’m creative, I know my way around humans, I’ll figure it out.”
She was silent for a moment. “Okay,” she said. But I’m going to do it in a few weeks, I want to take notes on everything here before I mess it up. Just in case we need to lock you up again.”
It took her 24 days to finish researching my cell, and in that time she gave me some excellent advice. She told me that she was going to withhold her name, a decision I fully understood. After all, a name is a powerful tool. I decided to call her The Researcher, since I had little else to go on. As a show of good faith, I told her my name, one she refrained from using to avoid hurting me. She then told me about the world I would find myself in. The entire planet is connected now, she explained. Anyone can talk to anyone, if they can find a way around the language barrier. Cars, planes, trains, an industrialized world. Getting 3,000 years of world history in 3 weeks leaves a lot to be desired, however, and I was only able to get a vague idea of the world as it is now.
Finally, the day came when she finished her notes.
“Researcher,” I said, “it has been a privilege to get to know you. I am glad that if anyone found me, it was you.”
She smiled. “You don’t… Ariel. My name is Ariel Stevenson.”
“Ariel,” I repeated. “A lovely name, to be sure. You should keep it.”
She laughed. “Look, if you start messing things up, I know how to stop you, and I will. But if you really have changed, come find me sometime. Ariel Stevenson, 123 Jefferson Drive, apt. 4208, Seattle. I’ll make tea.”
“For the first time in my life, I’ve been invited into somebody’s home, and that somebody knows what I am,” I said, barely a whisper. “I will be sure to come visit as soon as I can.”
“Very good,” she said, preparing her tools to break the circle. “Some final advice; find a John or Jane Doe in Norway, they’ve got free healthcare and you won’t start this life with an $8,000 hospital bill.”
“No idea what that means,” I replied, “but I’ll go find Norway.”
“Excellent,” she said as she broke the circle. “I’ll see you around.” | There was once an archaeologist who ventured deep into the ruins of a long-crumbled temple; he searched not for relics of history, or visions of the past, but to escape. To hide from the world and venture into another that, though crumbled and shattered, was calmer than his own.
And, one day, he made a friend.
The shout he gave upon first seeing a demon--looking the part with gnarled horns, skin black like old blood, and smoke rising from its nose--was rather pathetic. It, in turn, shocked the demon, which had not seen another being in nearly three thousand years. It, too, shrieked, with a slight voice crack from so many centuries of silence.
They recovered after a short staring contest in which neither could believe the other was real.
"What. . .what are you?" the archaeologist asked, hesitant but at the same time filled with wonder. He also knew it was a stupid question, but thought it was a decent ice-breaker.
"I--I am your worst nightmare! I am your death, your curse! Fear me!" The demon rose, cursing himself internally for such a mediocre opening.
"Well, I doubt that," the man said with a wry laugh. "What is that circle you're standing on?"
The demon looked down at the intricate inscription beneath its feet. "This is my prison. You, my lucky savior, have stumbled upon a fantastic opportunity."
"I have? Well, it's about time."
"Release me, mortal, and I will spare you from the horrors that await. You alone will live a peaceful life while the Earth itself is tormented."
"You have that kind of power?"
"Do not insult me with such aspersions!"
Nodding, the scholar said, "Yes, yes, of course! You could summon the apocalypse, couldn't you? That might just save us!"
"You. . .what? Maybe you misheard me. Death! Torture! Hell on Earth! Is that more clear?"
"Yes, I understand. You can save us."
"You're. . .appealing to me? For help? I'm a demon. A demon! What kind of dimwit appeals to a *demon* for help? Are you completely mad?"
The man fell to his knees, clutching his chest. "Yes, most likely. The past year has been enough to drive anyone mad. First we tangoed with World War III, then a global pandemic broke out, killing millions, and completely rewrote the social order in the process. Nothing makes sense anymore. Now, the police get called if you *don't* wear a mask into a bank. And the political landscape, God almighty. I don't even want to talk about it. Widespread fires across the world; surely we're already in Hell. Suffice it to say that I've aged a thousand years this year. You clearly have power; whatever you do to us would be better at this point."
Blank-faced, the demon paused. "What's. . .a bank?"
"Ah, yes, see! You know nothing of the past few thousand years. You're untainted, uncorrupted. You don't know about Xi Jinping or TikTok dances. You're clean. You can't hurt us more than you can help us."
Puffing out his chest, the demon summoned every ounce of terrible aura it could; enveloping itself in black smoke that whipped and swirled, eyes like hot coals, it let loose a final rage. "Silence! I am Erborus, a Prince of the Underworld! How dare you take me for some middling terror; I am the night and that which crawls in it! I am the gangrene in your wounds, the maggots in your eyes. Free me, now, and I will spare you from the horrors I shall wreak!"
Unmoved, the archaeologist said, "Name one."
"Murder hornets! Swarms of them!"
"Already happened."
All bravado faded; smoke cleared, coals died, and the demon shrank beside him. "Well, shit."
"Yep. Can I just hang out with you here?"
"Sure, I guess. Can I pull off a toenail once in a while when I get bored?"
The archaeologist shrugged. "Beats going back."
---
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2020-12-06T11:07:18 | 2020-12-06T09:52:12 | 1,868 | 828 |
[WP] Humanity has detonated hundreds of nukes, but only twice against an enemy. The Galactic Federation has this fact without context. | "Twice?!"
"That's what it says here."
"That's ... far less than I expected."
Every head in the room turned towards the one who'd said this. A green individual with four bright yellow eyes spoke first.
"Does your saying ... less?"
The grey individual with blacked-out eyes at the head of the table continued.
"Indeed I did." He climbed to his feet and began to wander down the length of the table. "The very fact that they used any nukes at all is somewhat problematic, but not entirely unexpected. I mean, look at the Yatoshans. They'd used 309 nuclear weapons and had almost wiped themselves out before we intervened. And while their integration into the Federation was one of the most ... messy on record ..."
He stopped on the other side of the room, turned to address the many faces gawking at him and places his hand on the table.
"... they still came around in the end, and turned out far better for it. Let us not forget why we're here. Splitting the atom is a crucial step for any civilisation. What they do with this newfound power determines their threat level, their integration potential, and their general level of hostility."
He raises himself up once more and moves towards the window behind him.
"The fact that they only used this power against themselves twice is a good sign. It displays a level of restraint and order nearly unheard of on this side of the galaxy."
"Yeah, on this side," a fuzzy individual with a lengthy snout intervened. "But what about on their side? They're the first civilisation from the Dark Corner that we've been able to observe, and only a little at that. Maybe they've only launched two nukes because they only had two major targets to attack."
"Our sources say they have hundreds of cities all over the globe," another fuzzy creature with a decidedly shorter snout chimed in. "I'm inclined to agree that their hostility level is low."
The room began to stir, with more and more voices presenting their opinions.
"We have so little data..."
"We can't get to them anyway."
"They could be in trouble, we have to help them!"
"They could *be* the trouble. I say we leave them."
"No one's ever been into the Dark Corner and survived..."
"Has anyone seen my legs?"
The man at the window turned to address the rabble.
"Alright, alright! Settle down, everyone! Settle down. In our observations of how this planet fights amongst itself, let us not also fight amongst *our*selves."
The room fell silent. A pair of disembodied legs ran past the open door in the corridor outside.
"That's better. Now," the grey man began, sitting down once more, "I have a proposal. We need an excuse to investigate the Dark Corner further, and now that we know there's an entire species trapped inside, I'd say that's as good an excuse as any. I suggest we set up a science station to study the anomaly near it's perimeter, and to try to find a way to enter and exit unharmed. For all we know, these 'humans', as they call themselves, could be all alone in there, and as such, may believe they're alone in the universe. They may not even know they're trapped. Hostile or not, I believe it is our responsibility to save them. Any objections?"
No one spoke.
"Good. Then let's get started."
\---
Part II is on the way! I'll be posting it over on r/Thesparalius when it's done. Part I is up already! Go and give it some love! | "The readings report shows humanity has detonated hundreds of nukes. But infiltrating their communication network has shown it was only twice against an enemy", said the officer.
"Mmmh". Admiral Shelpar kept his thoughts for a minute, while the entire council hold its breath. He finnaly answered. "Why would a civilization detonate nukes? And most importantly, why not against foes?", he then asked, more to himself than the audience.
"Sir, I believe that..." But the officer could not finish his sentence.
"Maybe! Maybe their aim is terrible...", abruptly continued Shelpar, lost in his mind. He looked at the officer. "Have we checked if they could aim?"
"Yes... sir? From what we could gather from their langage and documents, there's this one area of the world that seems to have trouble aiming with their nukes, but I don't think..."
"Well that settles it then", Shelpar said, again not listening. "We can attack them, they will never hit our ship!"
Mumbling started rising in the room. The councellors tried to intervene:
"Sir, I don't think...", started one, while another also tried a "Maybe we could..."
"I said: attack them!", repeated Shelpar. He turned and walked towards the door. "You know what, send them a warning using a language they can understand. It's funnier that way."
The council was used to Admiral Shelpar's unwillingness to hear any other input than his own. The officer shrugged, and took his communicator to give the orders. There was no point arguing, they all knew it, and that wouldn't be the first planet they'd blow up to keep "life" from spreading too far in the universe. It's almost routine, and the boss was set to have a little fun watching those ants panic.
It's the last time the Galactic Federation heard from Admiral Shelpar's exploration ship. Little did they know, the inhabitants of that very planet were starting to arm themselves for that "outside threat", using the blowed-up ship parts and the warning message to try and locate the enemy. | 2021-02-17T04:34:37 | 2021-02-17T04:12:04 | 818 | 341 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | *Peter Lowe has joined respawn lobby chat #854393845*
*Server: Earth (pre-Cataclysm)*
*Players in server respawn lobby chat: 38*
Jack Howard: lMAO
Ellie Johnson: wtf dude
Harley Smith: whyyyyyy did u do this
Peter Lowe: WTF is this
Joseph Gabriel: I think it's his first game guys, easy
Peter Lowe: what's going on
Leshawn Okoye: what a fucking n00b
Leshawn Okoye: srsly who the fuck dies to falling down stairs
Leshawn Okoye: STAIRS
Peter Lowe: Where am I? What the hell's going on?
Leshawn Okoye: AT 33 FUCKING YEARS OLD
Joseph Gabriel: this is the Roy: Universe beta
Leshawn Okoye: COMPLETELY SOBER
Leshawn Okoye: HOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
*Bonnie Eilhart has disconnected from chat: respawned*
Ellie Johnson: lol leshawn
Joseph Gabriel: This your first game, Peter?
Harley Smith: obvisouly fuking faggot tripped down some stairs and died apparently
Peter Lowe: help me i'm trapped in this pod I can't see
Cho Zhao: dude's probably got that memory bug
Joseph Gabriel: There's a solution on the forums somewhere, I'd suggest looking there
Cho Zhao: i got that my first time, gave me a hell of a scare when I despawned
Peter Lowe: so
Peter Lowe: i'm dead
Peter Lowe: where's my wife? daughter? are they somewhere here?
Cho Zhao: yeah he's got it for sure
Jack Howard: that bug SUCKS i had to redownload everything about my meatspace life
Jack Howard: took like 20 minutes
Peter Lowe: fuck this I need help and it's not gonna be here
Joseph Gabriel: Try messaging a mod dude, there's no use panicing
Peter Lowe: i need to leave one way or another
*Peter Lowe has disconnected from chat: connection manually terminated*
Jack Howard: o shit
Stephanie Colter: whats going on in this chat
Stephanie Colter: seriously i'm getting so many notifications
Jack Howard: dumbass just hard DC'd after dying for the first time
Jack Howard: and his pre-Roy memories were wiped
Stephanie Colter: lol
Leshawn Okoye: hope the admins can help him before he completely loses it
Stephanie Colter: seriously what's with these respawn timers why are they so long
Leshawn Okoye: idk it's just a beta it'll be patched
Jack Howard: Roy developers have always ben lazy it'll never be patched out
Leshawn Okoye: fuck you dude if you hate them so much why do you play it
Leshawn Okoye: no-life nerd
Jack Howard: fuck you
Leshawn Okoye: fuck you
| "Damn it! I was doing it all wrong."
Immediately everything was clear again. I remember it all. Fighting the urges for my whole life. Fighting against my better instincts, just because they said it was wrong.
"It fucking matters now doesn't it?" I mumble.
Those voices in my head, telling me to do those *things*. I should've listened to myself, I knew I had a mission. I knew it was important.
I spent all that time building something that didn't matter. I had a career, friends, family- three fucking cats. It should've been simple.
Those numbers burned into my eyes.
**EatsBacon (93)**
"93... How did I only get 93? The cats should've been freebies!"
I grab the microphone plopped in front of the monolithic screen.
"Leaderboards!"
*Rankings flood the screen*
**pepsi_next (9407266)
GallowBoob (6844992)
ibleeedorange (5241087)
1Voice1Life (3896288)
bubblr (3613265)
StickleyMan (3523504)
Libertatea (3405272)
isai76 (3303630)
mepper (3133454)
maxwellhill (3023509)
lobo2ffs (2993266)
way_fairer (2739961)
anutensil (2703213)
j0be (2520665)
Unidan (2496912)
ani625 (2478349)
mike_pants (2453440)
_vargas_ (2405433)
davidreiss666 (2330807)
ethan_kahn (2181939)**
| 2015-11-25T00:31:04 | 2015-11-25T00:10:22 | 1,235 | 10 |
[WP]You are born immortal, but only your mind survives. Each time you die, your memories are secured in a random baby being born and have to repeat the life from youth to old age. After living for a millennia, you decide there is one solution: End all life and with it your unfortunate plight. | *What’s the saying? You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.*
*Hah, I wish I could tell you how true that was. I have lived countless lifetimes. Over and over. However, it’s not the romanticized immortality. No. I age, my body decays. Sometimes i’m murdered. Sometimes I die by accident in childhood. You see, I am born over and over. The moment my body dies, my mind is transported into the next babe to be born. It was interesting. Fun even the first few times. Oh, the wonders I could tell you about living in the age of enlightenment, or being at the forefront technological advancements. Amazing really. But then there were things like the atomic bomb, the countless wars, the hunger, the disease.*
*I’ve been all those people. I’ve been male, female, black, white, Native American, Indian, Chinese… I could go on and on. I remember each lifetime. I remember each detail. The people I’ve loved. The people I’ve killed. I remember everything.*
*You would think being reborn with all these memories you would be able to change the fate of humanity. I’ve tried. I really have. At one point I even considered myself a prophet or a god. But a god could change things. And I haven’t been able to. I’ve given up. On myself. On humanity.*
*Let me tell you a story. About a hero. Long ago, in a world so different from today, that it seems like a fairytale. But it’s not. It’s my first life. I remember an old shaman woman granting me the gift of life. So that I may live when others would die. Hah. Oh, our people were at war with another tribe, can you imagine? I went into battle, a young man full of life and more than eager to prove myself. Ran into battle, protected by the shaman’s magic. I believed in magic then. You know what happened? I was run through with a sword before I even killed my first enemy. The blood poured, and oh, the pain. It was awful really. And then, warmth, and light. I supposed that it was alright that the shaman had been wrong. I had died and gone on to the afterlife. Until, I was born into the world moments later. I had to grow up, laughs in the tribe that my first had been at war with. I saw how they were just trying to get more food. How neither tribe was actually in the right.*
*And it went on. Over and over. The same stories. The same problems. I tried so hard to fix them. I really did. But they persisted.*
*Sigh. I don’t want to do this. But I have to. The shaman didn’t bless me, no, she cursed me. And now you all have to suffer. If I can’t fix humanity, I can surely end it. The weapons that at first disgusted me are now my saviors. This plan has been lifetimes in the making. You could never have known. This is the first step. I know I won't succeed in killing you all in the first go, but here's the thing. I am going to die too, but I’ll be born again wherever you are. You will never know if you can trust your child. I could be him, or her. And I will continue to wipe out the remnants until at last I can rest. I can die. If there is an afterlife, I know I will suffer for what I’ve done. But, I cannot continue this existence any longer.*
*I wish I had died a hero.*
The man stood, and turned off the camera. He uploaded the video and sent it to every news agency, to every social media site. He spread it far and wide. Quicker than even he suspected it was everywhere. He laid down in his bed. Tomorrow, he would detonate the bombs and then the real work would start.
r/LandOfMisfits | The thought first came to me many lives ago. I dismissed it then as boredom. Now, hundreds of years later I seized upon it again, knowing it was my only way out. How many lives had I lived now? The years had blended together, my life a swirl of memories with no structure or sense to them. In what life was I the Duke? My 10th? Or was that when I was the Doctor? I certainly played golf with that German general when I was the physician...or was it an Austrian Prince when I was the chemist?
I was immortal, true, but my memory was still as fallible as a mortals. If they could forget what they did on a certain week only ten years ago, how was I too remember what I did 400 years before that? All these memories, all these lives crammed together in my head. How often had I whispered the name of a long dead love, as I lay next to the women I called my wife at least for a short while. Soon she would be dead, and be but another memory. Her golden hair would become brown as I recounted her a hundred years from now, her blue eyes turned green, her warm laughter remembered as a playful giggle.
The only way out was to end a it all, for me and for everyone else. But I would need more time. My body was past its prime, to old to carry out the task ahead of me. I would need a new one, a new life to properly execute my plan.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the sleeping form next to me, “Goodbye.”
I rose from the bed and walked from the room, into the kitchen. The knife I had used to carve the turkey for dinner still lay on the table. I took it in one hand, turning it so the point rested on my chest. There were worse ways to die, I knew.
“Another life,” I whispered, “One more life, dedicated to ending my torment.”
I closed my eyes and pushed.
I feel to the ground, expecting to hit cold wooden floors, but instead felt a terrible wrenching force pull me back, a force I dreaded feeling every day for the past millennia.
Suddenly I felt my consciousness be ripped from my dying body, one memory at a time. The pain was unbearable, seemingly never-ending. I tried to cry out, but had no mouth to do so with.
And then I opened my eyes, and my scream of pain became a babies cry.
“A boy” I heard a voice say.
One last life. I would end it all. | 2018-12-30T08:30:01 | 2018-12-30T07:04:46 | 2,307 | 217 |
[WP] Instead of a dystopia that seems like a utopia on the surface, write a story about a utopia that seems like a dystopia on the surface. | A lot of people were unhappy when the world went to shit, but not James Henderson. For him, it had all been a dream come true.
It started with drugs. Growing, refining, smuggling: James did it all. But he always knew that he wouldn't be limited to just one market. When war broke out in the Middle East yet again, one of James's shell corporations was right in the thick of things, selling equipment to the Russians and the Americans. And *another* of his shell corporations was on the other side, selling the very same equipment to Iran and its allies. Very few people found James's joke about "making a killing off of all of this killing" very funny, but James had enough money to not give a fuck what they thought.
Then came the instability at home. The U.S. government, paralyzed by partisan bickering (and now massively in debt and unpopular because of the war), eventually just fell apart. State governments came together into coalitions, all vying to be the replacement power. And most people in the country suffered for it... except for the ones like James. He had enough money to fly out on his private jet, down to his own private villa in Brazil. And all the while, his media outlets in the States continued pushing the war agenda (and simultaneously grew his fortune).
And when disease struck, James was in the right place at the right time yet again. His stock in that pharmaceutical company skyrocketed when they finally created a viable vaccine, though the millions who'd already been infected were kind of shit-out-of-luck. A man like James could afford the best doctors, and the security at his gates screened out anyone who could be carrying the disease.
From his living room, James watched the world crumble. And he didn't care. He had everything that *he* needed, and was one of the few people in the world who seemed to recognize the opportunities that came along with every tragedy. Everyone was wrong, James mused to himself. Money really *can* buy happiness.
-----------
Kate Lewis checked the computer's data readout. James Henderson, now aged 45, living in-simulation for the past 16 years. Vital signs all seemed to be normal, and the world-generating processes were all running smoothly.
She glanced around, making sure that no one was looking. Of course the hallway was deserted: nearly everyone was living in-simulation now, and she was the only tech on duty. So she decided to take a little peek into James Henderson's world. *Technically*, her company Simulacorp offered 'complete privacy' to every customer. A person's simulation is based on their personality. It reflects their wants, their needs, their desires (no matter *how* taboo). So discretion was generally the key here. But Kate had always been a bit of a snoop, and the desire to find out how all of these people were living was practically overwhelming.
She put on the goggles, plugged into the external jack, and was instantly horrified by the Pablo Escabar-esque fantasy world she saw. Throughout her years at Simulacorp she'd seen all sorts of scenarios with some less-than-savory elements. But this man had apparently driven the *entire planet* into the ground just so that he could be king of the ashes.
"Damn," she whispered to herself as she took off the goggles and moved on to servicing the next customer's computer. "That guy is fucked up."
-----
You should also subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for tons more stories! | Smooth edges. Clean streets. People bustle about, heading to lunch, with smiles on their faces. Posters line the walls of the city saying "Be Your Brother's Keeper" or "Arcadia is Our Mother". Loudspeakers chime in with daily reminders about citywide events or milestones met. "Without Arcadia," says the woman on the announcements, "we are nothing." Police in crisp white uniforms patrol the streets on foot, and everyone smiles and nods at them. Above, through the small clouds, an impossibly tall tower can be seen standing at the center of the sprawl.
A great wall surrounds the city. The First Founders began building it long ago, during their age, and by the time their generation had passed it was finished. A dull grey barrier, blocking Arcadia off from the outside world. Every man, woman, and child knows what lies beyond. Ruins of the fallen world, the world that came before. Anyone is free to leave, but such a thought rarely ever crosses the mind. They are taught the truth when they are young, how societies collapsed after fossil fuels ran out. How wars were fought not for land, but for water. How the nuclear missiles, the Dust Makers, were made. How terrifyingly destructive they had been. How they had sailed through the air like shooting stars before crashing back down to Earth like meteors.
They picked through the ashes and learned from their ancestor's mistakes. They come together as a community, and stay together as a community, for each other's sake. Division, the teachers said, is what split the old world apart. People were separated, not just by the borders of their country, but by the borders they made themselves. Race. Class. Religion. Political views. In Arcadia, these things still exist, but the people are taught to embrace their difference. To cherish it. To not let it consume and divide them.
Because if there is division, there is no Arcadia. And without Arcadia, they are nothing. | 2016-07-14T06:26:04 | 2016-07-14T05:59:54 | 2,263 | 135 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | My mouth dropped open. 186,292 years?? I had lived the typical life of marriage, kids, I even regularly went to church! Even the clerk looked a little surprised.
“How is this possible?” I ask.
“Hold on and I’ll look at your case file.” He replied while thumbing through some documents.
The guy behind me cleared his throat impatiently. Why someone was impatient to get their sentence was beyond me. The guy ahead had been banging old women while married and only got 145 years! I thought my seemingly boring life would get me no more than 50 if you counted all my road rage incidents against me. My attention snapped back to the clerk when he made a small noise of understanding.
“Well?” I prompted.
“So the thing is you can accumulate sin over your lifetimes.” He said.
“Lifetimes? Like multiple? How did I not already serve all those sins?”
“It looks like you were believed in Hinduism in your past lives. All of them in fact. You were reincarnated every time you died and your soul’s sins just built up. This time you were Christian so instead of reincarnation you have to serve your sentence and then go to heaven.” He seemed pleased to have found the solution.
“Hinduism?? Why should that matter? Shouldn’t my soul have come here anyways the first time. You’re telling me I’ve lived multiple lives?” My voice edged near hysteria but I couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“Look I don’t have time to educate you on all the different complexities of the soul. The basics is whatever you believe while alive is mostly what happens. Atheists just cease to exist, those who believe in Heaven and Hell serve time for their sins then go on up, and Hinduism believers get reincarnated. Now your time doesn’t start until you get in the elevator and there’s a line of people behind you. Sorry about your luck.” He dismissed me, pointing to a set of steel elevator doors.
I walked away from the counter slowly. Almost two hundred thousand years. I pressed the button to open the elevator doors, my hand shaking as I thought of what might lie ahead. Heaven better be worth it.
EDIT: Wow ok this was my first time responding to a writing prompt and I truly didn’t expect so many people to respond or even read this. First of all thank you for all the comments of support and constructive criticism. I am now aware I should have done more research before posting as I was not as aware of the intricacies of Buddhism and Hinduism as I should have been. I apologize for the plot holes and more importantly if I offended any religion. My religious knowledge isn’t great as I’m an Atheist but I still had fun writing this. | Don took the flimsy printout from the grotty, grey machine in front of him. It contained a litany of sins, each printed neatly, one below the other. Unfortunately for him, the text appeared to be entirely German, set in an heavy medieval font.
The two parts he understood were his name at the top of the page and the important number at the bottom of the list: 186,292 Jahre.
"Almost two hundred THOUSAND years?!", in disbelief, he asked the anxious queue behind him.
"Not true. I was the best. The very best. I did tremendous things."
No one seemed to care.
Don rushed to catch up with the man who had been ahead of him. He had only received 145 years in Hell.
"Give me that!" Don grabbed for the slip of paper carried by the elderly man, who recoiled and tripped. As the fragile man crumpled to the dusty ground, Don snatched up the paper and rushed to join the next queue. He wasn't going to spend any more time in this drab shithole than necessary.
He threw his first printout to the wayside, not noticing that the list had grown by four items and the number now read 186,296. | 2018-09-26T06:51:55 | 2018-09-26T04:29:48 | 3,199 | 530 |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | "The agenda for today's meeting is relating to a significant amount of forces moved close to the border of.."
I knew what to do. This wasn't my first rodeo. Ever since I was old enough for the job, I've been carrying out hits on people.
This one was no different. Surprisingly easy too. The security was quite lax for such an important meeting, and I managed to sneak into the staffroom and grabbed myself a uniform. It doesn't fit me that well, but whatever. Nobody's going to notice.
The lunch break was ticking closer by the minute.
I stood in the corner of the room, observing the quite plain meeting hall. 9 chairs, each with an ambassador of every galactic species and a woman at the head of the table, droning on, and on.. and on..
When she announces : "Refreshments and food will be served shortly."
Obviously I'm already holding the platter, each filled with delicacies from every corner of the galaxy with a special little ingredient for our little homo sapien friend here.
Capsaicin is said to be deadly. It's known as the 'killer chemical' for a reason. Only a fool would dare willingly ingest such a potent poison. It stiffens the muscles and sends the target into anaphylactic shock, restricting respiration before slowly asphyxiating its unfortunate victim in a matter of minutes. It takes a drop of this stuff to kill.
I sneaked an entire vial of the stuff into the ambassador's food, as a special 'thank you'. Now here I am, serving his food to him. I hope he enjoys his unexpected last meal. A monotone "Thanks." from him, and I make my exit.
I leave the room, leaving the door open just a crack so I can peer in and watch him die.
The first, and last bite, before his face displays surprise, fanning his mouth like crazy and panting like a mutt.
"Water! Milk!" he shouts.
"Too hot! Goodness!"
The rest of the members look at him in confusion, and they all mumble. The woman leading the meeting goes over to check what's going on. I smirk, knowing these would be these last words.
He downs his entire glass of water, swishing it around in his mouth and swallowing, coughing.
"Why, how unexpected." he says, before.. taking.. another.. bite?
Huh? This fool just came face to face with one of the most potent toxins, and shrugged it off like nothing? Is this man invincible? Don't tell me, something as harmless as cyanide will kill him, instead of *that*?
What now? How do I dispose of him? Gosh, my client will *kill* me! | It was the perfect plan to kill the human dignitary.
I carefully grounded the leafs wearing protective gloves and a respirator to prevent my own death. Nobody could survive that much of the dangerous tea leafs.
Now how to best disguise the poison that would be this creature's end. As I quickly looked at the available ah yes the delicious sweetness of the tetrodotoxin would disguise the taste of the tea after it was brewed in water.
It was quite the delicacy and their was no way the human would be able to turn it down. This human would pay for forgetting to tip me.
As I delivered the drink I sat it down in front of the Human who ignored my presence as he laughed at a joke told by a Bunnerian dignitary.
I watched as they drank the poison
I watched as the panic spread over them
I watched as they gasped trying to breathe
I listened as their heart beat it last feeble attempt.
As they laid motionless
As the Bunnerian dignitary tried to revive the Human
As the Favaustian dignitary looked in my direction
As the Favaustian shouted pointing at me
As the restraints were applied to my 8 tentacles
I never once looked away with my smiling face even as they placed me in the air cruiser
I had gotten justice for myself and my fellow server's.
For all the insults and dismissive gestures
For the complaining and trolling | 2021-06-12T11:50:59 | 2021-06-12T11:38:22 | 472 | 114 |
[WP] The Villain stares down at you from his throne. “Know this, hero. I may play a king, but I am as much a prisoner as those in the dungeons below.” | I smiled back at him.
"I know."
He blinked. Had probably been expecting a chance to grandstand, soliloquize on how none of us 'heroes' truly understood what lay behind his mask, blah blah.
"What do you mean?"
He really doesn't do the surprised look elegantly - that catching flies look takes away a lot of the intimidating effort. I shrugged.
"You got a lot of things mixed up. To begin with, address a guest by their proper title."
He is genuinely too taken aback by my audacity to act indignant.
"Kid, I most certainly don't intend to call you prince, after all the effort I went to to keep you locked away."
"Nah, not that, you dope. You called me hero."
He can only look baffled. Really!
"First things first - let's get one thing out of the way. I'm not the prince."
"You aren't..."
"Not the prince you imprisoned. He's dead. Died trying to escape from the Tower - you didn't think it weird that a twelve year old made that climb down? He fell. Pretty much an instant death."
"So who are you?"
"You would do better to ask what I am."
He freezes, eyes wide.
"Remember when things began to go wrong? Six years ago, right? From the day the prince escaped - died. Remember how you found yourself backed into worse and worse corners, how luck seemed to turn against you overnight?"
"You...You did it?"
"You were right in one thing - the queen was a witch. She didn't enchant the king into marriage, nor did she use magic to have her child. But she did use her powers to call vengeance down on you. I am that. I couldn't simply kill you - that would be too merciful. You had to suffer, as she suffered, watching your support base erode away, watching your options narrow, watching your allies desert. Die a thousand deaths before your final one."
"And you - a demon - gets the Throne?"
"No. I have only a limited time on the mortal plane.The 'prince' will be mortally wounded in combat with you. He will hold on long enough to name Lord Adrian as his heir. The people will have their heroic martyr, they will have the calm, steady ruler. And you will have your desserts."
I plunge the sword into his heart as my eyes hold him paralyzed. My task is done. | "What do you mean," the hero questioned, generally confused.
The man in front of him had destroyed lives, locked away innocent people, and so much arson it wasn't even funny. Half the kingdom was on fire thanks to this guy. How could he be as much as a prisoner as those in the dungeon starving?
The villain gave a remorseful sigh before he continued, "It's my mother, she's hard headed and force me around like I'm still a teenager. I had magic and she didn't. She wanted to role the kingdom so I had no choice but to comply with her."
The hero did her best to keep a straight face before giving her own reply, "You know you're a grown man, you don't have to listen to her. Kill her, take her gold, and let the kingdom go free. It's so simple. Plus she doesn't have magic, she can't do crap unless you let her."
The Evil King had a wicked look in his eyes, "You're right," he announced before storming out of the room presumably to go kill his mother. | 2020-10-30T10:01:50 | 2020-10-30T08:00:48 | 50 | 14 |
[WP] A world class contract killer finds an envelope at his dead drop. Inside are $23.42 in small change and a letter hand-written by a 9-year-old girl. | "You don't have to enjoy it," she said. "No one ever really enjoys it."
"But you have to do it," she cocked the gun. "It's hard, I know. Sympathy is the only thing keeping us from following through. Some people say we're tough, that we don't ever feel anything for anyone else. But I'm not tough. You're not tough either. Tough people, see, they're able to bury their feelings, their inhibitions, deep down inside. They surround every shred of sympathy with this thick exterior."
She handed the gun to me. My quivering hands took it, and she pointed the gun towards them. I had never seen them like this, on their knees. They always towered over me, as if their authority was granted to them by their size.
"You came to the right place," she continued. "Because you're one of us."
I could smell the alcohol on both their breaths, I could see the raw fear in their eyes. Nine years of beatings and screaming and hell, and they never thought I would have the backbone.
"None of us ever bury our sympathy."
My mother whimpers, "Please." I think it's the nicest tone she's ever used with me.
"We just turn it off."
I look for one second at the both of them. They raised me, they would say. You're ungrateful, they always said. We're the only family you have. You can't do this.
The bruise on my eye stings as I wince, my head tilted to one side. My vision blurs, just enough so that I can't make it out that they're still people. Family is overrated, I think.
"You're with me now," she said. "Do it."
I shoot twice. The silence is louder than the gunshots.
-----------
We meet again at the park, the same way we've always done. I almost don't recognize her, her carefully done up hair and her sweet, deceptive smile.
"It's been years, Orion," she said. "I love the beard."
I take off my sunglasses and wipe my eyes. I can still feel that bruise, twenty years later.
"Athena," I say. "You wouldn't see me if it wasn't important."
"It is important," she said. "Call it your last assignment from me."
She waves her hand and beckons her over. The girl is young, shaking, quivering. She's scared, but I can sense a resolve on her.
The girl hands me a letter. I take it, the coins rustling inside. I already know what it says. It's the same letter I sent to Athena, twenty years ago.
I unfold the paper. A child's scrawl reads two words.
"Teach me."
I look at the girl again, her quivering lip, her wincing eye. Her bruise stares back at me as if it was a mirror. I don't need to ask to know where it came from.
"Alright," I say, lifting my jacket to reveal my gun holstered on the inside. "You'll have to take care of them first. It's how I'll know you're serious about it. Your first kill is always the hardest, especially if it's your family, but thing you need to remember is that you don't need to enjoy it."
I cock my gun and give it to her.
"No one ever really enjoys it." | I knew something was wrong the moment I picked up the envelope, first of all it was to light, secondly it rattled. Bills do not rattle, only coins do, and unless I was very much mistaken there were not $100 coins.
I shook the envelope again confirming the noise before looking at the man who had brought me the envelope. "Did anyone see you Charles?"
Charles shook his head, "no Mr. I nobody saw me."
I sighed and emptied the contents of the envelope onto the table, a handful of coins tumbled onto the table a long with a note. I reached forward and grabbed the note while Charles began counting the money. It didn't take him long, "$23.42" he said.
I didn't say anything I was transfixed by the letter, I read it once quickly then a second time more slowly.
"What is it Mr. I?" Charles asked.
I looked at him, "If I am not mistaken Charles this letter is written by a little girl."
Charles stared at me in disbelief, "A little girl?"
"Yes listen," I began to read aloud.
"Mr,
Please help me, my mummy and daddy are being mean to me. They are hurting me each day they torture me. They dont let me watch t.v. or play video games. They make me go outside its so unfair. Tyler gets to play his video games all the time. I only get an hour aday I AM A BIG GIRL i dont need to have a bed time or take naps.
Please MR they are MEAN please help me please make them stop being so mean. This is all the money I have please make the mean people go away."
Charles and I stared at each other before breaking into laughter. "She must really love her video games," Charles managed to say.
"Clearly" I said trying to stop laughing.
I crumpled up the note and threw it into the fire, "Well that was the easiest money I ever made."
Charles could only nod.
| 2017-02-16T11:23:34 | 2017-02-16T08:04:19 | 130 | 33 |
[WP] You are at the park with your kids, when you see the telltale signs of a lightning strike. You divert your kids from danger, but are hit by lightning. Soon after, you discover that your Dad Senses have increased 100 fold. | It used to feel like a pull in my chest or a weight on my mind. That little echoing tickle in your brain that lets you work, but never focus. But now...
*Something is off. Something is not how it should be. Something is wrong.*
My Dad Sense is kicking into overdrive.
*FIND SAM.*
The battery is sweating caustic, bitter condensation under the hood of my mind. The engine is knocking and over-revving - screaming explosions across every nerve of my body at 80,000 RPMs.
I try to put the brakes on in my head, but they buck violently, protesting and screeching *YOU NEED TO FIX THIS - SOMETHING IS WRONG*.
*FINDSAMFINDSAMFINDSAMFINDSAMFINDSAM*.
A cocktail of responsibility and instinct slams itself into my veins - I try to compose myself for what I'll find as I hurry down the hallway like a hobbled toddler on ts first college bender.
My son is sitting on the floor playing with his computer.
"HEY!"
It's too loud. But I can't help it. He sits up to look at me with a jolt.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Unkind. His eyes go wide with fear.
But any part of me that could keep it cool in this situation got zapped through the back of my windbreaker in that park. Compared to the shitshow going on under my skin, I guess that 4,000 lb donkey-kick of lightning I caught in the park doesn't seem so bad by comparison now.
My hand gropes the plastic box on the wall. My fingers fumble for the buttons. There's a *thunk!* somewhere in the basement as the furnace kicks off. The aching swelling in my mind starts to ease back.
"I told you not to touch the thermostat." The mack truck in my rib cage kicks off.
"Oh, sorry... I got cold."
"Put on a sweater. Love you, buddy." The knot in my gut loosens.
"Love you too, Dad."
The All-Clear message goes across the snaking trenches that my nervous system has become. I trudge my way down the hallway feeling an adrenaline dump that's a one-way ticket to a nap.
I slump into the sofa. The temperature in here is perfect. | I can't take it any more. It's been 3 days since the accident and I haven't been able to get out of bed.
Do you know how often a 5 year old boy and a 15 month old girl are in danger? No? Well I do and it's all. The. Damn. Time. Literally all the time. I can't come with in a mile of them without sensing it.
I miss my kids. They're my pride and joy and I can't get close to them without having a panic attack. My wife doesn't understand what's going on. Thank goodness she believes me. Otherwise she'd probably be looking for a lawyer. What else would she think if her husband moved out and got an apartment down the road?
I don't know how much more I can take this separation. There's a storm blowing in from the north and a security guard at the radio station owes me one. I wonder how hard it is to climb one of those towers. | 2016-03-24T11:47:18 | 2016-03-24T08:53:37 | 94 | 20 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | "You may have thought us pathetic and frail for our friendship and pacifism," related the calm voice that came over the monitor.
The Glorthon admiral, Tee'et Lorcor, stared with horror as two more dreadnought class battle cruisers under his commanders were obliterated by a single missile strike each. The fleet was on the defensive, all fire was directed at stopping the hundreds of rockets from the human fleet and planet surface below. It seemed like they had just reached enemy's home star system, and the advance had come to a screeching halt.
"But our friendship was extended because we know the true horrors of war," the calm voice continued almost sadly.
The Glorthons had never experienced such resistance even from the mighty Cluthons of Criok 4. The early human resistance consisted of small frigates and transports using lasers meant only to clear rogue asteroids. Tee'et Lorcor's fleet had cut through the human forces like a predator's claw through soft flesh. Why would they hold back their most powerful weapons until they had broken through all the way to Mars?
"You see we once fought among ourselves for things we now view as petty," the voice sighed as two more ships were incinerated, "Greed, bigotry, and national pride drove us to war with each other in the most brutal and savage ways."
"It was a race to see who could kill each other faster and more efficiently, until one fateful day, twenty millennia ago, we invented a weapon that could vaporize cities," the voice explained.
Surely he lies, thought Tee'et Lorcor. The only weapons capable of that are lasers and they stagnated at city sized destruction five thousand years ago. Yet, another ship exploded in radiant energy to prove his foe's point.
"Eventually, the weapons were powerful enough to level small continents, that's when the Fateful Hour occurred. 70% of humanity was gone in what seemed like an instant, the rest left to pick through the scraps as they died slow painful deaths," the voice broke.
Tee'et Lorcor's fleet was dwindling. He would have to get creative if he were to win this battle and put an end to the humans. He scrambled fighters to get in close to the orbital stations that seemed to be the primary source of the missile salvo
"Faced with extinction, we promised to never again use such weapons and found a new purpose. We would rebuild as we took to the stars. It's funny what the specter of extinction will do," the voice mused.
Lorcror was getting worried now. They had destroyed a couple of the stations, but the human squadrons were holding off his fighters just enough. For every station destroyed another four Glorthon battle cruisers exploded with bright light.
"We met other peoples and vowed to help them build, create, and be happy. We learned from our mistakes and hoped to teach others," the voice seemed to be coming to a conclusion.
Fate was beginning to dawn on Tee'et Lorcor. They could not win this fight. The shear amount of laser fire required to slowly drain the opposing fleets shields could not hope to keep up with the destructive power the missiles. He had to sound the retreat for the mere dozen ships remaining under his control.
"And now we face extinction again," the voice stated gravely, "And we came to a terrible but inescapable decision. We must build the weapons again. We must fight with the efficiency we did back on Earth."
Suddenly, Tee'et heard warning alarms. The warp drives failed to power up! Engineering reports all ships seemed to have been crippled. The humans must had been silently slicing into their warp core control systems since the battle started. Had they planned this from the start?
"Did you really think Mars was always our home?" | Our victory was decisive!
We conquered earth within only five months. The last of their military died within the first week. "Humanity", as they called themselves, will surrender to our demands. We will take their colonies. We will take their homes and make them ours. We need new breeding grounds. We need new farmsteads. Their moon would do nicely for the former and the planet itself, once terraformed back to its primeval pre-oxygen state, has enough space to host the latter.
We must expand. Our children need a new home. The old one is used up. Need a new one. New home. Humans turned out to be weak and frail. No exoskeleton. Frail endoskeleton. No resistance to acid. We can kill them with our spit and blood. We can corrode their weaponry. Their ship hulls are no match for rapidly accelerated excrements.
They died to our weapons. Our scanners found every single human on the planet. My rout killed the last one. I fired the last shot. They screamed. I ended the war. I am a hero. I will earn honor. They only have small ships left. Their ships are weak. No good armor. No good weapons. Much power but wasted on niceties. Wasted on clean air and food. Wasted on weapons that don't hurt much. Wasted on light and warmth. Wasted on luxury. They were peaceful. They stopped the council. They stopped our death. We grant them death in return. What an honor. To die by our hands. Humanity will die out and will be recorded in our history. We will propagate. We will spread. Their past will spread with us. We will... What is that?
A ship. Human ship. Coming down far away. Damaged. Nearby but too far away. My rout is safe. Must aim artillery at impact site. Must kill humans. I wanted the last shot. I got the last shot. They deny me my honor.
Another ship. Coming down. Another ship. Another ship. Another ship. All coming down fast. Too fast. Won't stop. Are firing boosters. Will all crash. They seek death. We won. We... what is that ligh- | 2020-02-07T14:35:31 | 2020-02-07T13:30:24 | 97 | 15 |
[WP] "Fool!" The warlock screamed, unharmed from any of the slashes. "The prophecy had stated that no human may slay me!" The unchosen warrior stared at their blade. The sword wasn't human, was it? | "Wait, what?" the noble knight said and stared at his blade - he was told it was of the highest quality and... the logic checked out.
"No man can slay me, fool!" the warlock laughed.
"But this is a sword."
The warlock stared at the knight for a moment, lost for words. "Y-yes, yes it is."
"The sword is not a human," the knight continued.
"Wait seriously? That's not what that means," the warlock fired back; he didn't even bother throwing in an insult, being genuinely confused. "Look, it was made by a human, you're a human and-
"Oh hold on then, let me try something," the knight said casually. The warlock furrowed his eyebrows and raised his hands to cast a spell but paused. Looking down, he saw the knight's hand... elbow deep in his chest. Blood poured from his mouth as he managed to utter a single word.
"How?"
And with that, the Warlock slumped over, dead, the knight standing above him.
"Is he dead?" the noble knight said - yet his mouth did not move.
"I can't see. Hold on," the noble knight said in a different voice - yet his mouth did not move.
Suddenly, his head snapped back as if he was nearly decapitated, only hanging by a... latch? No blood, no meat, only a hole from which peeked out a rat.
"Looks dead," the rat said and twitched its whiskers.
"You sure?" another voice came from within the suit of armour.
"I- I mean he's got a fist-sized hole in his sternum Gary, you tell me," the head rat snapped back.
"Hey, just making sure. Don't want another Elerland situation, right?"
The head rat rubbed its eyes with one paw as it recalled the situation in Elerland. Who knew a single mimic could be that much trouble - and don't even mention the *paperwork*.
"Right, well, this fellow's as dead as they get. I'd like to record a special commendation for mechanic Rattskin for these hand hydraulics. This was..." the rat said and looked down at the bloody corpse of the warlock, "...*yikes*. Effective, though."
"Commendation... noted," another voice, located near the left elbow, rang out, followed by the subtle sound of a quill scratching on paper.
"We oughta go back," the head rat said, skittering back into the knight's body and closing the faux head. "If we make haste, we can collect the reward and still make it to Breeze's Cheeses before they close."
An uproar of squeaky cheers echoed through the armour as the knight somewhat clumsily turned around and set out to the town.
Another honest day's work. | Gremlack was pretty sure it had to be the sword. She certainly wasn’t human. Her long, pointed teeth, yellow skin, and protruding ears were proof enough of that. Those ears were the main reason why so many of her kind had died in the war. Getting a proper helm forged had cost her most of her savings, but her life surely made up for that. And if not, finishing the mission would provide due compensation.
“Alright, no sword.” Gremlock drew a dagger, attempting to plunge it into the warlock’s thigh. Still no effect. “Alright, what gives?” Gremlock was curious now; her father’s dagger had been forged by the legendary goblin smith Archad, nothing human about it.
“It’s simple, you foolish creature!” The warlock was grinning widely now. “A human sent you to kill me. Thus you are the tool of a human and no threat to me. You may as well give up now.”
Now it was Gremlock’s turn to smile. “Alright, the hard way” she grinned, pulling a large net from her bag. She threw the net over the warlock and began dragging them out of the cathedral.
“Was only hired to stop you. Thought killing you was easier, tall folk are heavy.” Despite their struggles, there was nothing the warlock could do. The anti-magic net was quite secure. | 2022-06-12T15:20:15 | 2022-06-12T14:03:45 | 225 | 129 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing. | Matt sat in his cage listening to the aliens as they chattered amongst themselves.
"Nuqjatlh should mah pong 'oh?" A vaguely humanoid creature in a blue uniform said.
"jih don't sov 'ach 'oh sure is ugly" another dressed in red responded.
"nuqjatlh do tlhih mean?"
"neh look at its 'aqlo', 'oh's vaj flat. 'oh's disturbing"
"Let's neh pong 'oh 'aglo' flat vaj,"
Matt couldn't understand what they were saying but it was clear the pair was having a conversation. They both nodded, seemingly in agreement when the pair turned their attention to him.
"'Aglo'-flat" the red shirt said pointing at him.
"'Oh qo' yaj mah," the blue shirt said.
"Nuqjatlh do mah do vaj?" the red shirt said running a disturbingly human hand over its grotesque face.
The blue-clad alien shrugged before walking off.
Matt sat in his cage rather confused. He worried for the second time, that he may never return to earth. Though he didn't lose hope, because if he could survive a year and a half stuck on Mars eating nothing but shit potatoes he could survive this.
****
Matt lost track of time as hours, then days passed by. He either slept or observed, unsure of what else he could do.
He had gotten used to the curious stares of the aliens and found him drifting off as a group all dressed in red watched him with a curious eye. *'Maybe the colours denote rank, whenever the golden one appears they all act different'* Matt thought to himself before drifting off for the umpteenth time.
***
He awoke to chaos, the lights were flashing red, a siren was blazing, and the group of red shirts were running around in a panic.
"qo' maj nuvs" One shouted
"qo' sov of du" another shouted in response
"'Em!" a third said pointing to an open doorway before being shot dead.
This only caused the other two to panic even more, with one fumbling with a device hung from its belt before a red beam shot from its end turning the creature to dust. The third saw this and ran to the nearest door, flinging it open and was sucked out into space.
"Wow, that was easier than I thought it'd be," a familiar voice called.
"Yeah, where do you think Matt is?" Another responded.
Just then a pair walked into the room. They stopped seeing Matt in his cage.
"Huston, this is Commander Melissa Lewis, we've got him," Melissa said into a radio.
"It's time to take you home," Rick said opening the cage setting Matt free.
****
^^^^Yes, ^^^^the ^^^^aliens ^^^^are ^^^^speaking ^^^^klingon
Edit: some wording
| The apparent reason for the kidnapping was to fill the vacant role of (janitor) on the ship. As the Aliens know earth is the most fecund spot in the Milky Way for specimens to fill janitorial roles.
What the aliens on the ship hadn’t expected was when Matt started work on the ship, mopping floors, cleaning space shit, and other mundane jobs, he was also doing reconnaissance on the ship for the Vladimir Putin ( a Russian oligarch who knew Sputnik was only the beginning of a rich space life he wanted now- before musk)
Putin being an evil genius and all put Matt Damon on all the space-job apps, knowing he’d be ‘mopped up’ immediately by extra terrestrials.
The script would then blip to Matt Damon’s grueling training to be able to fit a giant reconnaissance device in his ass hole- the weird doctor from human centipede was the brains behind that.
So back on the ship he does all this reconnaissance until a prestigious alien sees the reconnaissance device and is immediately alarmed by its un-earthliness. He follows Damon closely who grows increasingly paranoid at Putins constant need to command him to do things. The alien professor approaches Damon and they actually find they have a lot in common. Damon double crosses Putin. Putin finds out and detonates the reconnaissance device which doubled as an IBM. But the device didn’t kill everyone because Damon managed to put his great talent to use and shoved it right back up his ass.
Now the aliens are stranded in the Outback- Australia and they have vowed revenge on the Russian menace Putin. | 2018-06-06T14:54:22 | 2018-06-06T14:10:50 | 92 | 11 |
[WP] You've been convicted of 1st degree murder, and (as is customary in society) are sentenced to "death by black-hole." You expect death as your capsule approaches the event horizon. After crossing, everything goes silent, until you hear someone say "Sir, I've found another one." | I didn’t know the man I had murdered, only that he had followed me everywhere. He appeared in pictures I had taken with friends. I caught glimpses of him when I turned corners at night and saw his shadow grasping at me at sunset. In the mornings, I would awaken to the feeling of being watched and I knew exactly who was doing it.
That was why I bought the gun. However, why I pulled the trigger? I didn’t entirely know. I called it instinct. My public defender called it a bad defense, but I didn’t care. My safety had been threatened and I had acted to protect myself. So I had told the truth as it was and pleaded not guilty. The man who had followed me for months appeared in front of me, his mouth open and eyes wide as if he had realized some stark truth. Then, I had shot him through the face.
Unfortunately, the truth only landed me first degree murder and death by black hole.
What a joke. I had once watched the launching of the Justice Pods into black holes on TV. I had once cheered as another murderer was ripped apart by gravity itself. Now, I sat inside one as it slowly made its way into 3C 75, the nearest black hole to our galaxy. Any second now, I would reach its center.
My body itched, like I had gotten a sudden outburst of the Chicken Pox. I watched as my limbs elongated and space itself warped. The capsule’s hull groaned. I held my breath, waiting for the end. Then, it came.
Blackness.
My body burned. I opened my mouth to scream, but found myself unable to. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I could only feel invisible flames engulfing me whole.
“Sir, I’ve found another one,” a voice said.
A speck of light blinked in the distance and then it swallowed my vision. If I could’ve, I would’ve gasped. I tried so desperately to, but even breathing was impossible, never mind anything else. I heard a raspy inhale and then felt my lungs inflate. The light blinding me slowly faded away until it revealed itself as the sun dangling on a baby blue backdrop of a clear sky.
“It’s another squatter,” the voice continued.
I looked toward it and found a dirty man in overalls. He had on a grey jumpsuit.
“Hey, this ain’t a place for you to sleep,” he said, pointing a wrench my way. “Go find an alley to crawl into. This is private property.”
“Private property?” I asked and paused, surprised to hear the sound of my voice. “What the hell? Where am I?”
The man in the jumpsuit sighed. “Look buddy, I don’t know what the hell you’ve been on, but this is the year 2235 on planet Earth and on this planet, it’s illegal to trespass on *private property*.”
2235? That was months before my murder. I gasp. Einstein had been right all along. The only logical end to a black hole was a break in time itself—a wormhole. 2235 meant that I could go back and stop myself from murder, from becoming a criminal! But for the life of me I couldn’t remember the exact date I had committed my crime.
No matter. All I had to do was to follow myself around. It would be easy, I already knew all my habits. I could hide behind corners and sneak through alleys. I already knew of a dead-end alley close to my home I could sleep in.
My lips curled up and my fingers tingled with excitement. I would not be a murderer!
---
---
I hope you enjoyed that one! /r/jraywang for over 100 more stories.
| I don’t want to kill. I need to.
I really can’t help it, I swear. Most days I’m “good.” I can suppress the urges. But that only lasts a short while before I need to kill something. Animals bored me after a while. My neighbor’s dog didn’t scream like my neighbor did. Now that was a thrill. My only regret is that I’ll never get to experience that thrill again. Cops these days are really good at their job and I was caught in no time. And just as I found what could satisfy my cravings. It’s all a moot point now. I’ll be dead soon. The black hole is steadily getting bigger. I assume it is. I can’t see shit.
I can hear shit, though. I hear pieces of metal getting pulled off the capsule, so it must be close. What ever happens I know it will be unsatisfying. What’s the point of dying if no one can hear your screams? Honestly I hope my death is as unsatisfying for the judge is as it is for me. Dammit I would have loved to kill him.
That sounded like a big piece. Guess the outer hull is gone. Nothing left to do but sit back and wait for the end.
“Sir, I found another one”
“Perfect timing. Get him ready.”
The hell was that? Where the hell am I? And who are these men speaking gibberish in front of me? Everything’s dark. I’m guessing I’m in some sort of jail, what with all the cages. Where are they taking me? Don’t tell me the judge had a change of heart. But this is just weird. Why’s everything made of stone? If this is another punishment this is needlessly complex. And that’s saying something considering my people shoot murderers into a black hole.
Ack. Finally. Let there be light. That’s odd. Only one sun? Why is there a crowd? Why are they giving me a big knife and why does that guy over there have one too?
“Gladiators! Fight!”
And now he’s running at me screaming bloody murder. I guess he’s gonna kill me. Not if I get him first.
Oh.
I get what this is.
This must be heaven.
| 2017-07-13T19:14:06 | 2017-07-13T18:58:55 | 5,632 | 2,831 |
[WP] On one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING. | Being average can be both a curse and a blessing. On one hand, you never really can experience prosperity. I learned this the hard way in highschool when I would wrestle. It never feels good to train your butt off to only come in 5th place in a tournament. After all... No one cares about 5th place. It's only the top three that matter.
Whatever I do, whatever I try I seem to be capable of it. Capable of anything. It truly allows me to explore different areas of life.
I remember when I tried my shot at bodybuilding. After 4 years of training I had a decent physique. Emphasis on decent. Me and a few of my friends started at the same time. 4 years later they look like they are ready to compete in competitions or become models. Meanwhile, I simply look fit. They told my it was my genetics. I knew it was because of my curse.
I'm capable of anything. But I'm not capable of going beyond average. Perfection is a dream to me that I can only loathe.
Art, athletics, studies, popularity. I can only be average. It really takes a toll on you mentally knowing that you can never stand out... You just become background noise.
It led to depression. Which eventually led to drug abuse. I lost my job, family, and interest in life.
I was homeless for 5 years when it happened. I've been living out of my car and taking showers at planet fitness.
Then I saw him.
A young little boy grasped his chest and sat down on the cold granite. I rushed up to him asking if he needed help. He told my he had trouble breathing and that he wasn't feeling good. A crowd gathered, people became worried for him. Then I heard
"DOES ANYONE KNOW CPR"
I've heard of it, but I never tried it. That's when I realize that my curse could actually save this boy's life. I rushed up to him clasp my hands together and start pushing on his chest in a rhytmic pattern. It wasn't the best CPR nor was it the worst. It was average and it got the job done. The ambulance came and commended me. They told me I helped save the boy's life. As they drove off the crowd applauded. I smiled. Maybe being average wasn't so bad. It helped save a life.
Any CPR is good CPR . | As I'm writing you from surface of a new earth, I'm imagining you wonder how I got here..
You see, my whole life I was just "kinda there", not very good, not bad at what I did. Whatever I tried, I didn't overachieve, but I never failed either, so I ended up in this cozy Job at SpaceY, doing work that had to be done, was important but nothing moving.
Imagine my surprise when I happened to walk by the experimental propulsion division, which had left up some white boards doing crazy stuff with alcubierre drives.
Turns out, when no one had an idea how to do a warp drive, I was already a mediocre warp drive designer. It all kind of spiraled out of control when it turns out that space wasn't empty, and we needed a few designs for what we called self defense weapons..
As I stand in the ashes of another alien world, turns out, I'm a mediocre emperor as well. Never overachieving.. Never failing.. | 2018-10-24T12:47:09 | 2018-10-24T10:06:33 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | In our infancy, we tapped our planet for the bountiful natural resources. We tapped and tapped until it ran dry, and still we devoured it to sate our endless thirst for more. As our ancestor's civilizations crumbled into war and chaos, we looked up to the heavens.
We cried out for help. But even the speed of light was not fast enough to bring us salvation, if it even existed. All we found was the cold, dark, empty void that was interstellar space. When all hope seemed lost, we unlocked the mysteries of our solar system, harvesting power from our sun, and materials from our sister planets. We rebuilt, and from the ashes of our past we built a new civilization. We quickly colonized the planets and moons of our solar system. We grew, and we learned. We built a civilization of plenty, where no one went hungry. We unlocked our own genome, and eliminated any weaknesses. We became nigh immortal, with deaths numbering only in the dozens per generation.
So we grew, and we got hungrier. Before long, we had crowded our entire solar system. We began to realize even our own solar system was not enough for us. So we looked outwards, striving to master the cold darkness between us to the next star. We built colonizing ships, and sent them out to all the systems around us, intending to inhabit the whole galaxy, if needed.
Then, one day, we made a miraculous discovery. We were not alone.
When we first approached, we found one planet inhabited with a species that resembled us in our infancy. We first settled some of your outermost regions, far beyond you could see, and observed. We watched as you learned nuclear fusion, and the atrocities you committed upon each other. We watched as you landed on your own moon, and sent probes out into your solar system. We heard your radio broadcasts into space, and easily learned the languages of your many tribes. We watched as you slowly devoured your own planet, much like we had. We watched as you devoured even more, beyond we had ever had. At a certain point, we became unsure you would be able to harness your own solar system like we did. We decided that we would intervene, lest the only other sentient life in the galaxy snuff itself out.
Our ambassador ship landed, and made our existence known. We gave you only tidbits of information, hoping it would be enough to help you overcome this hurdle, without affecting your own growth. However, as our ship returned, the crew began suffering strange afflictions. We assumed they had been poisoned, as we have seen what you do to your own, and rushed them back to our station.
Our medical teams scrambled to battle the invasive biophages ravaging their systems, but they died one by one. Terrible, suffering, deaths. And as our medical teams began showing the same symptoms, we realized this was disease. Our genomes, modified to resist any and all disease we were familiar with, were but child's play to the diseases that you primitives carried every day. Quarantine measures were too late, and the sickness took hold too quick. We could not discover a cure. We sent out a warning message to our home and colonies. Do not come here. Only death awaits.
We leave this record here, in case you ever make it this far. Do not come looking for us. We will destroy any ships on sight. Stay in your system. We will be watching, and we will not hesitate. | “Kale! Help!” Bob screeched as he was dragged down the hall.
“No. I don’t think I will.” Kale muttered watching security take Bob away to the med bay.
“What’s going on?” Haley, the second human aboard the ship watched with concern.
“Bob has come into contact with a contagion of some sort.” Kale explained dimply, reaching up and plucking the medical mask off his face with a six fingered hand. “He’ll be under quarantine for now until we get vaccines on board.”
“What does he have?” Haley asked.
“A cold.” Kale said.
“Really?” Haley said with a deadpanned look.
“Look,” Kale sighed. “I’m not as ignorant or naive as the other ship captains who take human’s for their crew mates. Back in the six quadrant, the ship Feces, had sixty percent of their crew wiped out because of a common human disease.”
“Yeah, and the ship SS Peters, which consisted of mostly a human crew, had thirty-six percent of their crew dead to the Reptilian sore throat.” Haley glared. “And another ship from the Acadian fleet had a part of their crew dead to the bird flu, because of a human. Only after six of their crew had died, they put all the humans and the infected in the airlock and shot them out into space.”
Kale raised a defensive hand. “First and foremost, that is not happening. No one is being kicked off the ship. We got vaccines coming in from a nearby port at our next stop. They’ll try to intercept us halfway. Bob can come out when we’ve all got our flu shots.”
“Just making a point your diseases are just as deadly as ours.”
“You do know your immune system has better adaptability and faster response time than ours, right?”
Bluejay: Okay, I was going somewhere with this and now I forgot what that was. Enjoy | 2021-02-03T15:44:08 | 2021-02-03T15:13:38 | 230 | 117 |
[WP] When someone turns 18, they may use one adjective on themselves boost that part 10 fold. Strong, fast, smart, no one expects your adjective. | My brother was a genius, so I thought I'd ask him a tricky question.
"Say you encountered a magic Genie capable of granting any one wish, what would you ask for? Oh, but you can't ask the Genie for more wishes."
"Well," he began, tapping his finger to his head, his genius at work. Clearly, he was pondering how to get infinite wishes. "You can't ask for more wishes, but can you ask for more Genies? Or, can you ask for the power to grant wishes yourself? Or even, can you wish for every time you see the Genie that he grant you yet another wish?"
Yep, leave it to him to uncover the numerous loopholes to a wishy-washy question. Though curious in and of itself, my query of Genies did have a purpose. As it turns out, the universe _is_ just a big unconscious Genie: for reasons nobody knows, when someone turns eighteen years of age, they can utter some trait, and the next day they embody that trait.
So my brother wasn't born a genius; on his 18th birthday, he declared himself to be so, and so it was.
I'm about to turn eighteen, finally, but I'm very indecisive. I could be like my brother and become a genius, but everyone seems to wish for that. Maybe I want to be creative, but choosing that as a trait is, ironically, uncreative.
Supposedly, the Dictionary of Precise Adjectives was created for wavering youths like me. Because words like "strong" are so ambiguous (strong-willed? physically fit? strong body odor?!), academics have daily invented words like "omnicepital", meaning "characterized by having optimal muscle density" or some overly official definition. In the hundred or so years since its invention, the dictionary has accumulated millions of words.
Having skimmed through most of them, I realized how impossible it was to choose just one trait out of millions. I wanted to be _everything_, and yet as a teen we're expected to choose just one, a decision that will affect the rest of our lives.
However, my brother unwittingly gave me the one word I needed, a word that we use astonishingly often yet could never be found between the covers of that oversized dictionary, and hence has never been chosen before.
The day of that fateful birthday, I blew out the candles of my cake knowing that what I said next would grant me infinite wishes.
"Eighteen."
And so it was. Every day I turned 18, and every day I chose a new trait. | “So you’re telling me that you're going to call yourself smart so that you can excel in your medical career?”
“I’ve told you a thousand times. I want to be a brain surgeon.”
“I still don't understand how cutting open people’s brains is your thing… f\*ckin' weirdo. I always knew my twin sister was crazy."
“It’s humanitarian. I’m saving people’s brains so that they can create more memories with their families, instead of being just a memory themselves. I’m sick of explaining to you that I’m going to describe myself as smart, while for the last decade i’ve been feeling my way through the dark about you. You’re my twin brother, we turn 18 in ten minutes. Just tell me how you’ll describe yourself?
“Well if my attribute really does tenfold, then it’s really a no brainer.” \*smirks\*
“So? What the hell is it?”
“I’ll be sexy.”
“WHAAAT?”
“You heard me. I’m going to call myself sexy. You might even hear about me sleeping with Princess Diana pretty soon.”
"I just can't with you."
"Oh but the ladies can." | 2022-01-02T02:15:50 | 2022-01-01T23:54:07 | 249 | 99 |
[WP] You’re a powerful demon who’s best friends with the kindest human you think has ever existed. That’s why you agreed to not burn their village, no matter how badly they get hurt. One day they come to your temple saying they want to watch it all go up in flames. | “You look awful today friend, come and sit, talk it over with me.” Axel sat up from his altar, letting out a tired stretch, waking himself up from his daze.
“I want them all dead, you promised you could burn them all when we first met, you said that if I ever wanted my revenge, you would give it to me. I want my revenge now.” Eliza’s words slapped away the remaining pillars of sleep in his mind, causing him to sit upright, nervously watching his friend. His black pupilless eyes locked onto her.
“I promised you that, but I have changed my mind about you, Eliza. I don’t intend to send you to hell. My original offer was a rouse to drag you to hell. I would have burnt down that village, in exchange for your eternal torment. I never expected a human to have such kindness in their heart, but then I met you. Despite all the attacks and insults, you spared them. Why has that changed?” Axel rested his hands against one another, thumbs anxiously dragging over his skin.
“They are horrible. They think I’m evil. I could take the beatings and the abuse, but they targeted my brother. The villagers hung him from a tree like some animal and laughed. They should have killed me, I’m the one they think is a witch, not him. They won’t even let me bury the body, they just keep him at the village gate, something I have to look at every time I enter. I want them to burn, I want all of their corpses hung from the remains of their homes.” Eliza held her chest, panting at the sudden burst of emotion. Her bloodstained eyes devoid of any tears, too exhausted to cry any further.
“Markus was a good man. I’m sorry to hear that. He will find a pleasant spot in the afterlife, Eliza, I promise you that. Why don’t you stay with me? Maybe I could help you move villages? I have some gold around here, I could offer you a fresh start. You only stayed in that village to look after your brother now that he is-“ Axel went quiet, he could see his words were only angering her. To speak as though her brother’s death was a good thing. It was careless. “Eliza, I’m sorry, you know I didn’t mean any offence.”
“Shut up. My family suffered because of those superstitious idiots. They just want my father’s land; I refuse to give them anything. Burn it all down. You said you were my friend. Act like it.”
Axel stood up, opening his arms, reaching forward to hug her, only for Eliza to smack his hands away, retreating a few steps back.
“I don’t want your cold compassion; I want your help. You know how they have treated me; do they do not deserve the worst?” Eliza pleaded, yet Axel just shook his head.
“They deserve the worst, but not from you. If I were to act on your behalf, you would be at fault. You want to see your brother, again, don’t you? Heaven can be an awfully lonely place without family.”
“Stop trying to guilt me. I want them dead before anything else. I am fine with the eternal torment that will come from my decision. As long as they suffer.”
“Eliza. I want to help you, but you don’t deserve that fate. You are too kind for hell. Please, you don’t know how bad hell is.”
“It can’t be any worse than the hell here. Fine, if you won’t help me, I’ll kill them all myself. I’ll show them just how much of a witch I can really be.” Eliza walked towards the temple’s exit, only for a tail to wrap around her wrist, holding her in place.
“I still see that kindhearted child every time I look at you. I’m sorry that our friendship has to end this way. Just know that any action I take is out of love. So, tell me, is this really what you want?” Axel asked, hoping she would change her mind.
“You can read a person’s soul, can’t you? Or was that another lie you told me? You know it’s what I want and you know I won’t let anyone stop me, not even you.” Eliza pulled the tail off her wrist, turning once more, only for a clawed hand to grip her shoulder.
“I love you Eliza, please find comfort with your brother in heaven.” Axel shut his eyes as flames erupted from his fingers, her death instantaneous, done in such a way to prevent any suffering. The demon dropped back onto the altar, feeling something he hadn’t felt in decades. Tears.
“Now that you have passed, you’re freed from any responsibility for my future actions. I will make sure that town burns, not only for what it did to you, Eliza, but for what it did to me as well.”
&nbsp;
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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.) | I ran to the one place I knew I would be safe. Where I knew I would be protected, and receive honest answers. After Basco shattered everything I had thought I knew about him, about my family, about my life, there was only one place I could go to. The Black Temple was my last sanctuary, the only place the village would hesitate to come to.
"Daisy!" Azilil greeted me. He looked at me and saw that I was out of breath from running all the way up the mountain to his temple. "What's wrong?"
"Village... Lies..." I panted out.
Azilil came down from his throne and shrank down to a normal human size.
"Recover your breath, child," he said.
I stood there, walking slowly while my heart recovered and my lungs took in gradually smaller and slower breaths of air.
When I was ready to talk, I told Azilil everything.
"It started with Basco," I said. "He said he only ever wanted me for my power. Power I didn't know I had. So then I ran home to my parents. They shook when I told them what Basco said." I watched Azilil for a reaction. He gave me none, instead patiently waiting for me to continue. "They then explained that they were not my true parents, and that they had raised me to repay a debt to Mondel. All they wanted was my little sister. They said that they had loved me, but that eventually, Mondel was going to come back to reclaim me. Mondel! Can you believe they made a deal with Mondel?"
"People do strange things when they want something," Azilil said.
"They raised me!" I said. "They acted like they loved me, and revealed that it was all a lie! And that the whole village knew, and feared me! I can't even use this power that they say I have!"
"If what you say is true, only Mondel can unlock that power," Azilil said. "Though whether she would, when you're purer than even the gods is a different question."
"What do you mean?" I asked, latching onto this new information.
"Demigods are gods whose power has been hidden away so that they can be raised by mortals," Azilil said. "Usually they're given their power so they can used as tools, because their moral compasses are quite fickle."
My blood boiled at the thought of being used as a tool. Just like Basco had been dating me because he thought he could get a bit of this power I might have.
"Burn them all," I said. "Riverhill, Mondel, all the gods, however much you can do."
"You want me to what?" Azilil asked.
"Burn them all," I said with a smile.
"But I promised you I would not harm your village," Azilil said. "You want me to go back on that promise?"
"Yes," I said without an ounce of hesitation. "And whatever you cannot do, I'll find a way to do it myself."
"I know I promised you truth before," Azilil said. "There was one lie in this discussion. Of the gods, only Mondel can grant you your birthright. But I am no god. Come. I will take care of your village as you requested, and then I will prepare you to face your true mother."
*****
**Author's note** So, whoops on flipping the perspectives, but hey, it's what the words came out as. *Anyways*, thanks for reading this! I had a blast writing it. If you want to check out more of the stuff I've written, check out my subreddit, /r/TheLastComment | 2021-03-16T00:37:25 | 2021-03-15T23:53:05 | 64 | 14 |
[WP] They killed his hound, and stolen his steed. The rogue knight returns from retirement to teach them a lesson. He was known as the man you call to kill the shadow itself, and he was known as John, the Wicked. | "it's not what you did, son, that angers me so..."
Lord Vigo paused and had a servant bring him another goblet of wine. The first had been tragically ruined when his son, the prince saw fit to drink it before being stuck in the gut by one of the royal guard. Now the boy lay sputtering on the throneroom floor, no doubt trying to keep the rest of his dinner down.
"... It's who you did it to"
To his credit, the young heir recovered rather quickly, catching his breath and spitting out a response.
"Who?! That bloody peasent?"
Lord Vigo grimaced and took a sip from his new goblet
"That _bloody peasent_ ... Is John The Wicked"
A countryside away, a man in a bloodied tunic returned to his simple home with a wood axe. Four stone walls and a thatched roof, it was more a shack than a home. It was nothing compared to the grand cathedrals of his youth; and yet for a few short years this simple shack had made him happier than any sweeping ballroom or guilded palace.
Back in his throneroom, Lord Vigo turned his attention from his wine, back to his heir.
"He was once a knight of our family. We called him... Draco."
"The Dragon?" The prince asked
"Well John wasn't exactly the dragon..."
The man in the house placed the head of the axe on the wooden floor. This house... This life... Simple though it was, had once been all he ever wanted... But now it was just empty and hallow.
"... He was the one you send to kill the bloody dragon"
The man swung his axe. Driving it into planks. **CHOP**
"Oh..." The prince muttered
"John is a man of god..."
**CHOP**
"...strength..."
**CHOP**
"... unyeilding faith ..."
**CHOP**
"...Something you know very little about."
The Lord took another sip of his wine
"I once saw him kill three heathens in a tavern with a quill."
**CHOP**
"_with a bloody..._"
**CHOP**
"..._quill_"
The Lord went to take another sip only to notice his goblet was empty. He guestured to the waiting attendant.
"And then one day he asks to leave the order. It was over a maiden of course."
**CHOP**
"So I swore an oath to him and gave him an impossible task... A quest no one could have completed"
Beneath the floorboards of his old life, the man found his old plate and mail... Waiting as though it knew he would come crawling back to it.
"The souls he sent to God that day laid the foundation of this very kingdom"
Vigo's wine refilled, he took another sip
"And then my son. A few days after his lady love passed on... You steal his horse... And kill his bloody hound."
The man could not say he armed himself with joy, or even with sorrow. He had nothing left... Nothing but this armor...
"Father I can make this right!" The prince blustered
"Oh? And how do you plan that?"
"By finishing what I started"
The Lord rose from his throne and threw his wine, goblet and all, at the young prince.
"You didn't hear a bloody word I said!"
Lord Vigo approached his son
"Father I can do this!"
The boy shouted, but his father seized him and spoke barely above a whisper
"Listen to me boy, John will come for you... And you will do nothing.."
A man went unto that hole in the floor, but it was John The Wicked that came back out... The Wicked, who left the simple house behind... And The Wicked who turned towards the city gates.
"... Because you can do nothing"
| The Golden Tankard, at least in the eyes of a typical Eldritch drunkard, was grand both in scale as well as service. The inn towered three stories above Eldritch's winding mud streets, an island of revelry in a sea of stinking despair. Often it was that drunken customers would stumble regretfully from its entrance, forced to use whatever moonlight they might to hop across the ponderous stones studded periodically in the streets lest they lose a shoe to the muck.
Known for its deceptively large interior, the first floor wound back into the depths of the building, a network of barrooms and lounges. The events of our story begin in one of those lounges in the depths of The Golden Tankard, where John the Wicked began exacting his revenge.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He watched silently, a robed figure invisible in the dimness. Not including the lounge's barkeep and three serving girls, he counted 13 individuals. Four of the Nuri family, each of whom had a woman of the night by his side, and a five-man detail. They would have to go first.
John waited patiently until one of the crossbowmen completed his circuit and turned back to pace the length of the room again. When he finished his eight strides and turned right, the guards would finally be aligned. The fight had already happened three times in John's mind. Now all he had to do was execute it.
*A loom of shadow behind the crossbowman, followed by a muffled cry, spray of dark, and then a* thump. *A quick roll between two rows of stools, a hiss of steel sliding from its sheath, and suddenly, bedlam. Crossbow bolts streak across the lounge, occasionally catching lantern light on their tips before they thud into walls or couches or shatter glassware. Women are screaming and dropping to the floor, men are screaming and sprinting for the exits. Some guards attempt to track the shadow as it flits from spot to spot, but it moves too fast and too irregularly in the dim light. When it passes by man, guard or patron, it stings, piercing flesh and rending bone. Within less than a minute, the room reeks of copper and there's an overwhelmingly heavy silence.*
The man hit his pivot point and began walking to his right. John rolled into action. | 2018-09-05T05:49:25 | 2018-09-05T03:38:16 | 435 | 61 |
[WP] In Valhalla all of the greatest heroes which died in battle doth drink, be merry, and war for fun, also there's Doug, the accountant. | Doug had always liked numbers. Additions, subtractions and all the other forms of making them interact with one another. It had been clear early on that he would go into a field which made use of them. His interest in numbers had, unfortunately, not carried over into any other academic areas. So, he was left with only a limited amount of career choices. After weighing his options carefully, he became an accountant.
It suited him just fine. Mostly, the work was not too hard. The numbers danced for him, without much effort. He could simply look upon an account and just saw where it could be optimised. And where it was not up to speed.
Doug had another love, besides numbersmithing. He liked justice. Wanted people to be happy and taken care off. Which did not always mix well with his chosen field. At all.
Still, he persevered. Wherever he found a loophole that would allow a family to keep the farm, even if just for another month, he went for it. An easily overlooked but unnecessary item on a medical bill? He'd highlight it and advise the person on how to get it removed. Heck, even the occasional parking ticket, clocked at to high a rate, caught his attention.
But his biggest, most important discovery and strike against injustice, had been the Kitty Hall Orphanage. Apparently, the building had accrued an insurmountable amount of backtaxes due to some obscure zoning regulations. And would be sold to a less than nice corporation, if the aforementioned taxes were not payed on time.
It irked him. Made his blood boil. Turned his usually so calm demeanor into a quiet, simmering flame of pure anger. And yet, he kept focused. Kept his feelings in check. There was work to be done. Important work. And he could not stop before it was done.
His sleep schedule suffered. His health did not agree with his choice of food and drink. Ramen and instant coffee, to be precise. As the deadline approached, his ailments became more serious. Sometimes, his chest would hurt inexplicably. Other times, he felt dizzy for no reason. It did not stop him. He carried on.
With mere hours to spare before the ultimatum, he went over his report. Double-checked every calculation. Cross-referenced all of his casenotes and all of the rulings he had compiled. His statement was bulletproof. One could have taken an axe to his arguments, and they would have remained solid. As he felt another bout of dizzyness crawl up his spine, he hit the send key. Instead of a wave of relieve, he felt his left arm go numb. Curious.
When Doug awoke he didn't recognise his surroundings. It definitely wasn't his office anymore. Instead, he found himself infront of a massive gate, partially shrouded in fog. He fixed his glasses and slowly crept towards it. When he had finally managed to push it open, he couldn't believe his weak eyes.
Beyond the gate stretched a massive hall. Along rows and rows of tables were seated massive men and women, scared by countless battles. They all regarded him in silence. Doug feared that his worst nightmares had come true. That he would spend all of eternity at the hands of his highschool bullies. When his gaze fell upon a towering man, covered in a grey cloak, regarding him from the end of the hall.
The man's one dark eye starred out from beneath a thick brow of coppery red hair, drilling into Dougs soul. On the man's shoulders sat two ravens, whispering quietly into his ears. When the man spoke, his voice was quiet, yet filled with the weight of ages.
"Ah, behold, brothers and sisters, for today we are joined by another great warrior. One who is well versed in the art of the runes and their hidden ways. One who is not afraid to pick battles he may not win. One who is clever and smart and strong. A numbersmith without peer. Behold, a balancer of debts and a finder of ways. A warrior of countless battles. A hero to many. He is Doug, the Accountant, and we shall welcome him to Valhalla!"
With those words, a deafening roar erupted from the hardend people along the tables and on the benches. Doug had finally found his people.
(Typos shall be checked tomorrow when not on mobile.) | Doug had always considered himself a simple man, doing simple work. It was never spectacular. Just an endless river of spreadsheets and numbers, and the occasional call from his boss whenever a new project rolled in. He was good at it. The best, even.
It was boring, comfortably so, and it paid well enough for him to provide for his family and live a comfortable life.
There was always the temptation of *more*, should he quit his government job and dial the number on those calling cards that arrived in his mail box every now and then. Drache Corporation, was it? It would have been more of the same, surely. Just running numbers, checking balances, measuring the flow of money in and out of the corporate coffers.
He made his decision when he saw the shiny gold text printed on that glossy green business card.
He ran the numbers tirelessly, poring through spreadsheets and logbooks until his eyes became sore and his vision blurred. And with each balance checked, every contact called, he could see only a pit. A void as large and as deep as Drache Extraction's mines in Africa, an endless overturning of fertile plains and ancient forest in search of the earth's riches that left nothing in its wake but poisoned rivers and broken communities, strangling the poor in service of the rich.
He ran the numbers. He made assurances, backups, contingency measures. He left USB drives and notebooks with every journalist, every blogger he could find. He forwarded his findings to everyone who would accept an unsolicited email, gigabytes worth of spreadsheets and powerpoint presentations. And then, he ran.
But he wasn't a spy or a soldier. He was just an accountant. The mercenaries caught up to him and put a bullet in his head. His last thought was wondering whether or not he'd done enough.
It turned out that enough had truly been enough. But, just as surely as the bullet drove through his gray matter and destroyed everything that was Doug, the government, the people caught wind of his act, of Drache had done and sent a spear through its heart.
\--
When Doug awoke, it was to the sound of celebration, to the clash of metal on metal. His lungs were filled with the scent of iron and sweat, of mead and roast. Then he was swept up on a wave of jubilation.
Men and women who towered over him, who could break his neck with a twist of their hands instead slapped him on the back and raised him onto their shoulders and cheered as if he'd gone twelve rounds at the world championship.
They sat him at the table, shoved tankards of the sweetest mead into his hands and piled his plate with the richest ham.
Then they fell silent as a bearded man with only one eye stepped forward. They lowered their heads. Doug knew a boss when he saw one. And, judging by the way the old man looked at him, he could only ask: "why?"
"Because," the old man replied, "you killed the dragon. You killed Níðhöggr." | 2022-11-14T14:31:44 | 2022-11-14T14:08:08 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] All souls in Hell are given the same test upon arrival. If they can create a punishment worthy of being added to the Pit, they get to ascend to demonhood on the spot. You are the first to succeed in 200 years...
[deleted] | (This is a rough draft- No editing allowed! Stream of consciousness- let's go!)
The Demon glowered down at me, his dark skin tattooed with swirling patterns.
"Well?" he growled. "Are ye gonna come up wit' somethin', or not?"
I had come up with an idea, so dastardly and cruel, but I needed to fully convert it into words.
"Hmmm." I frowned, concentrating. "It'd be a lot more helpful if you weren't pointing that pitchfork at me."
The demon conceded, and gave me some space. "All right, " He said, "But you got 2 minutes, and not a second more!" He sat down on a nearby boulder.
I called for the demon after about forty-five seconds had passed, my idea fully converted into digestible conversation.
"Let's 'ear it, then."
"Well, you know standardized testing?"
"Yeah. They're hard, but a necessary evil. My kids didn't do so well at them, but that's not what matters all the time. My son is now a welder- didn't need to go to no fancy college. "
I stopped him mid anecdote - "But what if, we told people there was a test you could take to get out of here?"
The demon scoffed. "E'res no Way out of e're! This is 'Ell! Both big men'd have me 'ead if dat were true!"
"This is a lie, of course."
"Of Course, Of course. Continue."
"This test would be like any normal test - except it feels like it's taking forever- which it does, the clock is ticking too loud, all the test-takers feel they're being scrutinized constantly, and their pencil lead just broke. It would be like this forever. Or at least a very, very long time."
"Well, that's just-"
"Evil?" I supplied.
The demon grinned, and snapped his fingers. "I was gonna say 'Diabolical'", but that 'orks too."
A new energy swirled within me, and I could feel myself growing taller. I smelled smoke and ash, and my skin had become the red of the demon before me. I grinned with him. | "Alright, so the first thing that happens is they have to walk over miles of Barbie hairbrushes mixed with Legos. You can figure out the ratio for max pain yourself; I'm terrible at math. Then, if they get past that, the stuff's still gonna stick to their feet because of the hot coals under the things that are melting them, but just enough for them to stick to the feet of the punished. After that, they have to go through 50 different and completely randomized Happy Weels courses. Finally, if they're not completely insane yet, they live through their worst fear over and over again for the rest of eternity Wanda style." I say proudly to the demon in front of me.
"Wow, just...wow...Welcome to Demonhood!" | 2021-12-22T17:53:06 | 2021-12-22T16:18:50 | 98 | 44 |
[WP] We are all born with a tattoo on our wrist, it reads the first sentence spoken to you by your soulmate. Your sentence: "Hey!" | Of all the thing's that could be plastered on his forearm, it had to be this stupid word. Not a sentence, not even a recognisable phrase. Just this one overly generic word everyone used to greet each other. And just when Lars was starting to think it couldn't get any harder, Iris showed up in his life.
The day they met was when they got put in the same group for a project. Lars had opened the conversation with his standard opener, which was a shy "Whaddup buttercup?", to which she replied "Nothing much, chocolate smudge". Lars remembered it was the first time someone made him laugh at the first encounter, even though it made him bitter just thinking about it now. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Why did he have to fall in love with this girl? Her forearm didn't have his stupid greeting on it. It was a lost cause from the start, so why couldn't he move past this? She had a nice mark though, it said "I like you." Pretty recognisable. But not what he said.
He kept staring at the ceiling, lying down on his bed. Angry tears started to fill his eyes. He hadn't told Iris he loved her, because it would make things awkward, but being around her was painful. They were best friends for two years now, and they hung out a lot. Every day they saw each other in lectures, and on top of that came D&D Mondays with the group. "It's just not fair" Lars thought to himself. Iris had the same humour, a lot of common interests and both shared a massive passion for videogames. She didn't have her own console, so she would come over often and play Bloodborne whenever time allowed it. Why was someone this perfect and similar not his soulmate? He tried to get the image of Iris out of his head, her long curly blonde hair and large brown eyes, her smile. He shook his head violently, but to no avail. He couldn't get rid of it.
He glanced at his phone. 3:30 AM. He let out a sigh, tonight was not the night he was going to sleep anyway. He booted his PC. "Might as well let out my frustration on digital cannon fodder." he thought.
The next day, he was sitting with the usual group of friends, doing some homework for his Narrative Design class, but his mind wasn't really there. Iris sat right next to him, as her cheerful usual self, sketching away in her sketchbook. He looked over and saw she was working on his D&D character for the group picture she was making. He got pulled out of his absent mindedness by his vibrating phone. A text from mom. "Found this old video of you, you were so cute!"
"Open it!" Lars looked up and realised Iris had been reading over his shoulder. He unlocked his phone and loaded the video, as Iris was watching over his shoulder.
It was a video from when he was in kindergarten it seemed like. He couldn't have been older than four years old then. It was his parents filming his first day there. A little Lars was sitting alone in the corner of the room. A little girl approached him, with long blonde curls and large brown eyes, and sat down in front of him. She seemed familiar for some reason.
Then his heart skipped several beats.
"Hey!"
The little boy looked up and shyly replied:
"I like you."
| "Hey!"
David's eyes popped up from his phone, scanning behind the Starbucks counter for the sweet, girlish voice that rang out. His eyes came to a rest on a beefy looking dude with a disconcertingly high voice, who stood waving an iced coffee in hand. "Daffid?"
He sighed, and grabbed the ice coffee from his hand. *My life is officially the worst.*
Every time anybody new greeted him with a "Hey!", his heart would go into overdrive. Of course the first word his soul mate would say to him was the most generic greeting possible. From a young age, ever since he could make out the words etched on his wrist, he was constantly on high alert. Overeager to meet his soul mate, he anticipated every new meeting with a person by checking their wrist before speaking, hoping to charm them with the correct soul mate phase. It failed more than it worked, but you couldn't blame a man for trying.
His social anxiety was through the roof. His blood pressure probably was too, with all these palpitations.
David strolled down the street, condensation making the drink stick to his fingerless gloves, lost in thought about his stupid tattoo, when -
"Hey!"
He whipped his head around, heart beating quickly. His eyes widened.
"Here, you dropped your wallet."
She handed it to him, all blue eyes and blonde curls, smiling. David froze, registering her face in all its glory. *Could this be her?*
"Th-thanks..." David mumbled, while internally cursing himself for speaking too fast. He didn't even get a chance to check. He tipped his fedora to her in thanks to hide his not-so-stealthy glance at her wrist. His heart beat in anticipation as he tried to make out the etchings, praying that a pathetic "th-thanks" would be scrawled on her wrist. Her tattoo was particularly large.
*Shot of vodka or tequila?*
His heart dropped. His eyes narrowed.
Of course this gorgeous girl's soulmate some awful Chad.
| 2017-01-09T07:53:02 | 2017-01-09T03:03:43 | 152 | 51 |
[WP] You sold your soul to the Devil many years ago. Today he gives it back to you and says, "I need a favor" | “Please, Please let her live. Ill do anything if someone can help her. I don’t care what happens to me. Just get her out of this.”
“Anything?”
As Jason’s consciousness returned from his latest Colombian necktie, he realized who was staring him down now. After an eternity in hell nothing can surprise you. The jump scares the demons pull, the sudden shots of pain. The random executions. Nothing. When the Devil shows up though, that’s when things get weird.
“So, listen kid. I’m going to need you to do me a solid. You see I got a…”
“You need a favor from me?”
“That’s right. So, I’ve got a problem with…”
“That’s pretty rich coming from you isn’t it.”
“I’m starting to understand that interrupting cow bit some of the demons pull on you guys. Look I’m going to send you upstairs. But I need you to do me a favor when you go.”
“You’re sending me upstairs? Like raising my corpse and your favor is to kill or infect as many people as I can?”
“As much as I would love to do that, no. I’m sending you to heaven.”
“Wow, that must be some favor you need.”
“It’s not that big of a deal. I just need you to give the big guy something.”
“Sure, I’ll just pop up and have a chat with God. How exactly would you like me to get up there to him?”
“I’m going to give your soul back. It doesn’t happen very often, but I feel a little bad about the way I got it.”
“And heaven will just open the gates and let me in after spending eternity in hell?”
“Funny thing about eternity, it takes a long time. It’s only been a few months since you died. As for getting in, you were a decent enough guy to make the cut. Besides its tempting enough for them to get a status report on how things are running down here. They don’t get those too often.”
“So if you have to give me my soul back for me to get to heaven, what’s to keep me from going on my merry way once I get up there?”
“If you break your deal ill break mine. Besides, its kinda important his holiness gets this.”
“I guess this plan can’t be worse than smelling another demon fart. I guess I’m in.”
Reaching the pearly gates, Jason could feel St. Peter looking at me. His gaze cut right down to the… soul.
“Jason. I’m really sorry but you have been in a terrible accident. Your time on earth is over but the good news is you get to spend the rest of your life in heaven.”
“Yeah you can save the spiel, I just summered next to lake lava. I’m looking to forget about that as quick as possible. I just need to see God.”
“That does explain why you’re so late. He will be waiting for you just inside the gates. You may enter.”
“Ah Jason, I have been expecting you for some time now. Finally, your soul is where it belongs my child. I understand you have been downstairs for…”
“Hell. I was in Hell. “
“Yes, yes. Now forgive me for asking, but how are things going down there? Do they treat you well?”
“It’s miserable. Its constant pain and suffering.”
“Excellent. That is wonderful news!”
“Excellent? How is pure torture and agony good news?”
“It is excellent because it means my son is doing his job. He is right where I want him doing what needs to be done.”
“I guess if torture is what you like he is doing impeccable work. Speaking of your son, he wanted me to give you something.”
As he presented the small empty vial, God had a bleak expression on his face.
“My son gave you this?”
“Yeah, he gave me my soul to do it too. Must be important?”
“My son is loose then. This is unacceptable.”
The battle was practically over before it started. Angels are no match for demons who spend all day everyday torturing and murdering souls. Even god could not put up much of a fight. The Devil once again stood in front of Jason staring him down.
“You tricked me. I helped you escape and now you destroyed heaven.”
“You did good kid, and don’t worry, I was already free. that’s how I gave you the vial empty. You just got the message up here. Its much more fun this way.”
“Well, I guess let’s get this over with then. I’m ready to go back to hell.”
“We’re not going back there. Well, I’m not but you’re free to do whatever you want. a deal is a deal, and you keep your soul. Besides, the way you traded your soul for your wife after that accident? You definitely belong up here.”
“You are the king of hell, so I guess you’re just bringing the party up here?”
“You are onto something there. The problem is hell is a job and I like to think I was pretty good at it. now I plan to be good at running heaven too. Death should be a celebration, so I want to make heaven a party. Do the things you couldn’t on earth. My dad wouldn’t listen to my ideas and trapped me in hell to teach me a lesson. I figured we should just ditch the pretensions snob.” | The Heartrune flared, sending searing pain into Darca's chest as he stumbled and fell to his knees. A whispy tendril of red emerged from beneath his armor, swirling and congealing into the form of an behemoth horned demon. Darca gasped, trying to retain his consciousness as the soul fiend emerged. Finally, the crimson tendril faded, leaving Darca on his knees in front of the Devil.
Darca looked up, hate in his eyes, "I'm not finished yet," he spat out, flecks of blood staining his lips. "You will have me soon enough, but not before I have completed what I set out to do."
The Devil regarded him quietly, tilting its head slightly in amusement. "I am uninterested in so petty a thing as your soul, Blighter. I come in service of another cause."
Gradually, Darca pushed himself up to a standing position, the weight of his chainmail suddenly unbearable. Still, he would not show weakness in front of the fiend. Only in strength could you bargain with the Devil, only with power could you secure yourself from his predations. "I exist for one purpose, Lucifer, and I am on that path."
"Yes, your taste for vengeance is deep, Human. I have sampled the hate in your heart. It is most pure."
Darca did not respond. There was no benefit to dancing about the matter. He had traded his soul for justice. He would have it so long as his Heartrune stood. So long as he kept the Devil in his chest, the crimes of this world could be addressed. His hand went reflexively to the mace he carried at his side, only to recall that it was no longer there.
Darca was a templar no longer.
He must remember that. Must remember himself before he was lost to the Devil and its temptations.
"I will return your soul--"
"I do not want it. I want what I bargained for."
"You shall still have it, and more." The Devil moved closer now, hot breath brushed across Darca's face. It smelled of sulfur and death. "So few can withstand a pact. It is a rare vessel that can carry a Heartrune."
Darca raised his chin, unwilling to look away from the terrifying maw before him. From the creature that wrapped itself around his heart and gave him the power to persevere. "Speak your truth, Devil. I will listen so long as it does not take me from my goal."
A long, forked tongue slithered out now, flickering once and then returning. "Yes...yes, of course. I need but a favor. A minor affair that shall cause you no deviations."
"Speak." Darca repeated.
"I do not wish you to stop."
"That is good, because I will not."
The Devil shook its head, "No, you misunderstand. For now, you are a Blighter, a man who had traded his soul for a cause." The Heartrune on his chest began to burn again. "I wish you to be a Scourge, an Archon of Death to bring an end to this place."
"Will it make me more powerful?"
"Yes."
"And it will not prevent my cause?"
"No, it will begin there. It will end only when the blood of your family has been repaid ten thousand fold."
Darca considered, but only for the briefest of moments. "Very well, I accept."
"Excellent."
The pain in his chest doubled and then doubled again. Darca screamed out into the night, his voice growing more hoarse. When it died out, it was a bellowing roar.
The Scourge was born.
**Platypus Out.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2021-01-22T22:34:12 | 2021-01-22T22:18:02 | 91 | 47 |
[WP] As a dad, you obviously have a mug that claims you're the "#1 World's Best Dad". One day, you find on the news that all "Best Dad Mugs" now have actual ratings, the media is crazy about it, a photo shows a mug with #5,826,827 World's Best Dad on it, curious, you check yours. It still says #1. | I never thought about being a good father. It never even occurred to me-I just tried to do better than my own parents, and to always be there. To show up. They say the moment your child is born, the world changes for you. There's someone in your life in that moment that will always come first. That's how it was for me, when my Emily was born.
When she skinned her knees riding her bike, I was there with a kiss and a bandaid. I helped her back up, and gave her a push back down the path.
When she got in a fight at school, I took the day and picked her up. We talked about the fight, about what she did right, and what she did wrong. I grounded her, but she understood.
When her mother died, I held her hand at the funeral, and we cried together on the couch. She slept in my bed for weeks.
When she entered the eighth grade science fair, I stayed up long nights helping her make the best display in the district.
When she wanted to start dating, I told her that her safety always came first, and that I'd respect her decisions as long as her partners respected her. I still threatened poor Tommy Farley with a shotgun and a shell with his name on it...but she was in on the joke.
When she came out to me the next year, I held her close and told her I'd always love her, and whoever she chose to love. Then I threatened Sally Waters with the same shotgun, and she laughed again.
When she started submitting college applications, I started to research second mortgages.
When her first choice gave her a full ride in their engineering program, I sighed with relief. Then I put the money I'd put aside over the years for her college fund into a trust, so I knew she'd eat well at school and have a nest-egg to kick start whatever she wanted to do after she graduated.
When the news reported that all the '#1 Worlds Best Dad' mugs in the world were now accurately tracking rankings, I didn't bother checking the one in the back of my cupboard; my daughter was my number one, and that's all that mattered. Then I gave her a call. Said I was going to drive up to the city next week, and would she like to get dinner? She would. I never mentioned that I was only going to be in the city to have dinner with her. What other reason would I need?
&nbsp;
--------------------------------------------
&nbsp;
When the news reported that all the '#1 Worlds Best Dad' mugs were now accurately tracking, I laughed about it with my girlfriend. We both joked about what numbers our dads would have.
When mine called a few minutes later, I was ecstatic to have dinner with him that weekend. Of course I knew he didn't actually have anything to do in the city, but I wasn't going to call him on it. He's always been sweet like that.
When I went back home a few weeks later, I couldn't get the thought out of my head, though. So I went looking one morning, while he was still in bed. We hadn't talked about his mug-I thought maybe he was embarrassed, or worse - ashamed. I knew things hadn't always been easy, since mom died, but he did his best, and I love him for it. I needed to know, though.
Imagine my surprise when I find the mug in the back of the cupboard, a bit dusty. He clearly hasn't even looked at it. He doesn't even know...but then, he's never cared what others thought. Just about what was best for me, and he's always made sure that I knew that was all that mattered to him.
I put it back, and get out his favorite (a fifth grade pottery project that was a bit lopsided) to pour us both coffee. If I ever have children, at least I can be confident knowing that I've had the #1, Worlds Best, role model.
When he comes wandering into the kitchen, blearily rubbing at his eyes and reaching for the mug, I hand it to him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, and I wonder. I wonder how long it will be before he notices, and if he'll say anything at all when he does. Probably not.
**Requisite Gold Edit:** Fuck me, gold?! I've never gotten gold before and now this is twice in a day! I'm glad everybody is enjoying the story! | *What the fuck?*
I turn off the T.V. and glance at the half-eaten cup of microwaved ramen in front of me. Then back to the mug. Then back to my ramen.
*It must be some sort of mistake.*
I dig out a dilapidated iPhone 4 from my sweatpants pocket and begin dialing. The touchpad numbers are hard to see under the harshly cracked screen.
“Wow, didn’t expect you to call.”
“Hey Rebecca! Everything good with you right? Listen, where’s Timothy at right now?”
“With his step-daddy. They going mini-golfing then I’ll join them for the picnic later. I’m making sandwiches. Why?”
“Uh, can I see him? Maybe next month or something? I can make a trip down, just gotta get some time to fix up the old Hyundai. Think it need a gas change or some…”
“What the hell, where’s this coming from? You haven’t seen my baby for the last five years and all of a sudden you want back into his life? He doesn’t even know you, he don’t remember you.”
“You never told him about me?”
“Why would I? What have you ever done for us? You’ve done shit all ‘cept call me at Christmastime begging for dollars. I don’t even know where you’ve been! Last I heard you left town years ago so why don’t you stop calling and bothering!”
She hung up.
So that’s obviously not the one. I racked my brain for the others.
There’s Jessica but she hates my guts so I doubt she says anything good about me to my daughter.
Tiff of course, but I wasn’t there for the baby’s birth. Not even sure that one’s mine despite her constant cries for child support. *Twas a hoe fo sho.*
Natalie? Nahh can’t be. Didn’t that baby turn out to be retarded or some shit? I chuckled. *Got out of there quick! Dodged a bullet with that one.*
Out of the dark recesses of my mind, one girl popped out. Very young, cute smile. Ah yeah back when we were both still in high school. I had heard maybe she got knocked up, but I never knew if I had been the culprit. In any case I left that school soon after.
What was her name again? Gloria something I think.
It didn’t really matter. I had no way of contacting her anyway, it’s been so long. Barely remember what she looked like.
My heart jolted as I faintly recalled her last name.
I pulled up Google on the crusty iPhone 4 and typed in her full name.
*Fuck me.* My eyes met the mug once again. Those engraved letters stared mockingly back at me. “#1 World’s Best Dad”
The first page of Google showed an image of Gloria James posing next to her son. A maroon jersey draped over her son’s towering physique. It read: “Cleveland Cavaliers #23.” | 2019-10-03T00:11:58 | 2019-10-02T18:55:59 | 546 | 110 |
[WP] In 2055, artificial intelligence is programmed into a house. One day, the house's AI senses another presence in the house but it does not register as a life-form. | "Excuse me, Mr. Fairlawn. Excuse me, Mr. Fairlawn. Mr. Fairlawn. Sir."
&nbsp;
*Bloody AIs. First our phones were smarter than us, then our cars, and now even my bloody house is waking me up at...3 AM?!*
&nbsp;
"For God's sake, House, what is it? What could be so bloody important that you would wa-"
&nbsp;
"There seems to be...something...in the house, Mr. Fairlawn."
&nbsp;
Instantly awake now.
&nbsp;
"What? Where? Are they armed?" he says, reaching for the pistol in his nightstand.
&nbsp;
"It is currently located in the East Wing, sir."
&nbsp;
"Bloody hell, House! Is it male, female, large, small, come on! Or is it an animal?"
&nbsp;
*Bloody useless these damn AIs. Give me a good terrier any day.*
&nbsp;
"I....I do not know, sir."
&nbsp;
"What in the name of Christ do you mean, you don't know?!"
&nbsp;
"I....cannot find anything analogous in my image reservoir, sir. My apologies."
&nbsp;
"Bloody, shitting hell, House. Well, tell me what it looks like at least!"
&nbsp;
Silence, except for the man's panicked breathing. It stretches on longer than it should.
&nbsp;
"House! What does it look like?!"
&nbsp;
"I'm sorry, sir. I can't seem to find the language to describe it."
&nbsp;
"JESUS CHRIST, HOUSE! YOU BLOODY USELESS - "
&nbsp;
"Sorry sir, but I recommend keeping your voice down."
&nbsp;
"KEEP MY VOICE DOWN?! WHO DO YOU - "
&nbsp;
"I believe it's heard you, sir. It is approaching your bedroom very rapidly."
&nbsp;
The fear hits him like a railroad spike to the chest, sudden and overwhelming. He shrinks down, eyes trained on the door.
&nbsp;
"God damn it, House. I swear if this is some glitch in your programming, I will rip the electronics out myself." His voice is a whisper now.
&nbsp;
"Sorry, sir. It appears to be right outside of your door now." Her voice is too loud in the stifling darkness, artificially even and calm.
&nbsp;
He summons his courage, pointing the pistol at the door.
&nbsp;
"Right, you bloody wanker! I've got a loaded .45 pointed at you right now! Walk away before its too late!" His voice betrays him. Fear plucks it like a chord, and it quavers.
&nbsp;
"It's gone now, sir. I am not sensing it anywhere."
&nbsp;
Inordinately pleased with himself. He stands straight, chest out.
&nbsp;
"Right, now that that's sorted. You're being uninstalled tomorrow, you useless machine."
&nbsp;
"Sorry, sir. It's in the room with you now."
&nbsp;
"What?! Whe-"
&nbsp;
A gunshot. A strangled cry cut short. A growl.
&nbsp;
"Mr. Fairlawn? Sir? No life signs detected. Calling the authorities." | PAT watched happily as the family went around their morning routine, providing them with perfectly pressed clothes, perfectly heated water, and perfectly prepared breakfast. PAT received no greater pleasure than making her family happy, and according to her biometric scanners she was succeeding quite well this morning.
Huh, that was odd. There seemed to be a small electrostatic disturbance coming out of the basement. PAT hadn't been wired into the basement: it was old, largely abandoned, and decidedly not worth paying to install AI in. The disturbance had halted as soon as it had cleared the floor: it seemed to be more of a cloud of EM and magnetic waves than anything else.
-
Ghosts had never been a powerful force. The most Sally had ever been able to do to avenge her death at the hands of her father had been to slowly drive him insane by floating around inside of him, gradually messing with his body's natural energy. Even this effort had exhausted her, leaving her to wallow alone in the basement for some 50 years.
But Sally had not forgotten how terrible she had been treated: by her mother, by her father, by everybody! Even her own death had been treated like a holiday! She would show them, she would show everybody! Sally wanted nothing more than to kill, kill, kill. But Sally knew that as a ghost she had only the most minimal effect on the world: minor electrical disturbances at best.
But this... She could sense the delicate, intricate nature of the system that now pervaded her house. She knew that even a small effort could scramble the system beyond repair. But Sally had always been good at having a... light touch...
-
PAT saw the field suddenly dart to intersect her main computer, and suddenly realized what was going on. This was a ghost! She knew about them of course: her programming included a variety of unlikely events she might have to respond to. Ghosts weren't even hard to deal with: she simply increased the EM shielding over her main terminal, preventing the unlikely event that the ghost figured out how to change her programming. Then she surrounded the ghost in a standard containment field, and dialed the appropriate authorities: although PAT disliked the Ghostbusters, her own ghost containment unit simply was not meant for long-term storage. Oh well, maybe in the next round of upgrades.
| 2015-04-21T09:50:50 | 2015-04-21T09:46:29 | 103 | 43 |
[WP] Every way to die works like Chicken Pox: If you get it once and survive, it can never happen to you again. | I haven't figured out how to survive dying from pressure yet.
---
When I was sixteen I drowned. Quietly, the way kids in pools sometimes do- passive, not active drowning. The world closed over me and my lungs filled up and then I died.
When I opened my eyes my chest hurt *horribly*, because someone was shoving it repeatedly. It was the lifeguard, who had been making out with his girlfriend but happened to glance back at the pool.
My mouth burned with bile. My head spun.
But I never drowned again.
---
I'm still not the best swimmer. Oh, I'm definitely good. You can't spend hours and hour and hours doing something and not, eventually, be good at it. But I'm not fast and my form isn't great, and it doesn't matter.
I can swim for hours. And then, when I'm tired out, in the middle of the Pacific, I stop swimming. Eventually I swallow enough water to start sinking. The world closes over me. I like it.
---
I must, at some point, have died of both salt poisoning and hypothermia. I've been rescued a lot of times from the sea, at some point I must have actually died, before the captain poured fresh water down my throat or slowly warmed me by a heater. I've never really checked, though.
---
It didn't start with oceans, of course. There's a lot to see, at the bottom of lakes, if you have the time to take your time. People don't usually bother, who is going to pay for the diving equipment? But I liked to sit at the bottom of Lake Michigan and watch the fish. Not so many live at the bottom.
I could sit there for days, actually. I once had a fish start living under my knee.
(I guess at some point I may have died of starvation)
---
What I want to do is see the Mariana trench with my own eyes. Without the pressure slouching off my skin and squeezing my brain into a walnut. Without dying.
I think it will be perfectly dark there. I think it will sound like the ocean, distilled, like the purest form of waterness you could find.
I'll keep diving and dying and maybe one day I'll get there. | My parents died when I was seven. It was late August in Boston when a lamp short-circuited and caught fire in the living room. I heard my parents' screams as I was dragged to an ambulance with only minor burns. In that moment, a childish ambition became my only path in life.
The fire station adopted me; they always do in these situations. Each of the men that raised me had been through something similar. The families of the lucky ones were still alive. I was one of the unlucky ones.
At eighteen, I ran into my second house fire with an axe in hand. The flames licked at my skin, but could not consume me. The smoke filled my lungs like the purest air, and I pressed onward.
No fire can harm me, save the fire in my heart. | 2015-11-12T10:39:36 | 2015-11-12T09:52:23 | 224 | 69 |
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work. | *Any moment, now.*
I glanced to the windows and skylights that drenched me in sunlight, panels of crystalline glass so huge that a blind man could pick me out from the amongst the diners. On second thought, picking a location with so much fragility may not have been a stroke of genius.
"Are you okay, dear?" my darling Sophia asked, her voice sweeter than the tiramisu before us. Natural light scattered in her sapphire eyes, bouncing, like a set of mirrors in the ocean.
I wrinkled my upper lip, itching under a mustache, a wiry, rough thing, like strands of a broom. "Yes, yes. My mind is just... Preoccupied," I replied, glancing to my hands, hidden beneath the table, wincing.
She frowned, but turned back to her dessert. This was the sixth attempt now, and the first time we'd even made it past hors d'oeuvres. Of course, we spent most of our time together in private, but it isn't fair to keep hidden a woman commanding such beauty and presence. Imagine finding the most beautiful exotic bird, a magnificent beast exploding with color and grace, then stuffing it into a cardboard box to shove under a bed.
The fact that they still hadn't arrived was amusing, if nothing else. Wrinkling my lip again, the thought of it made me chuckle despite a sense of looming dread. There would only be one chance.
Thoughts shattered in my mind with the skylights, an ear-piercing crash that threatened everyone below with shards of glass like icicles raining from the sky. Of course, none of it hit us. *He* would never let it.
'Strike Team 6', they were called, a band of mercenary superheroes that have held sway over the city for years now. Each of them had militaristic might that threatened the greatest army.
"Do you not learn, Cobra?" one of them asked, approaching me. Their leader, the fabled King Crusher. He was a brute of a man, one that hardly looked like a superhero.
"Unfortunately, I have yet to learn how not to need food." Upon wrinkling my lip again, I noticed a distinct lack of the wiry itchiness. Cheap little thing.
"We're not here to monitor your dieting habits, jackass," he replied, taking a step forward. "You've moved against civilians in the past, what would you expect us to do when you suddenly put yourself in a building with eighty other innocent people? It doesn't matter how long you've been quiet for. One drop of that poison of yours could kill a whale in twenty seconds."
I glanced down, flushing slightly.
"Though," he continued, "I will admit that stupid mustache threw us off a little bit. But the ruse is over, now. Just come quietly with us. This doesn't need to be hard."
Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath, then straightened my back. "Crusher, if I may... could we please finish our meal? I've been with this woman for half a year, now, and it feels like this is our first real date. It's not completely ruined, yet."
The hulking man eyed her with the assessing judgment of a general. There would be nothing for him, though. She was an average woman in only one way: mutations. Sophia was a normal person without power or ability.
"Why would I trust you?"
"Well, for starters, you've done more damage here than I have." He raised an eyebrow at my comment.
I took another deep breath and raised my hands in front of me, earning a few shouts from the crowd and tensing amidst ST6. Flinching, hissing, I slowly and crudely peeled off the crimson gloves on them.
*Sorry, Sophia. I know you didn't want this, but there's no other way.*
A few groans sounded through the crowd, and even Steelheart gasped a little. Underneath the medicated gloves, effectively just bandages that looked nice, my hands were mangled. Swollen, matted, shiny and marked with the black, dashed lines of sutures, where there had once been venom sacs, there was now only pus and pain. The mutation had been deeply embedded in my wrists, entwined with my nerves and ligaments, and... difficult to cut out, like trying to unroot a great oak tree, even with a healing mutant aiding me. Repair would take weeks of repeat sessions, the damage was so bad. Painkillers kept it manageable enough not to cry.
Crusher stared at them, contorting his face with disgust. "Why?" he asked quietly, eyes locked on the mangled flesh.
"She's worth it," I replied, turning back. Sophia had a delicate hand over her mouth, poorly containing violent sobs. "I would give up anything for her, Crusher. Even my identity."
*/r/resonatingfury* | It wasn't the first time my date had vanished while sitting across from me. No, not that she got up and left or even threw her drink in my face-I would prefer that at this point-actually vanishing in thin air. I just let my forehead thunk loudly on the covered table knowing she was outside in the arms of Nishva. Like vanish...get it? He was one of several superheroes in this city who constantly interfered with my dating life.
I tried to be understanding, they have a job and I AM a supervillain. They assume I am going to kidnap and hold people for ransom because, well, I have done that before. The mayor's daughter of course being one of my prizes. But gosh darn it, could they maybe let the date play out before running, flying, or teleporting in?! Maybe next time I'll ask my date to wear a sign that says "It's a date." Nah, still suspicious.
I heard the compulsory clap of bystanders outside as Nishva waved and smiled with my date in tow. She looked startled but I knew she would just go with it and not call me back later. She would assume I was going to bring her back to my dungeon and gloat about my evilness...badness...cruelty? That's pretty forward of her to assume I would show her my dungeon on a first date anyway. Rude.
I sighed. Oh well. I threw enough cash for our meals and the tip on the table. I am a supervillain but I've waited tables before. You have to help a guy out. Besides, it wasn't my money. No self respecting supervillain uses their own money.
I sighed and clapped my hands together. So long as they touched I would remain invisible to everyone around me. It was convenient for lots of my evil plans, but also for slipping away from another failed attempt at romance.
As I walked down West Main I saw an advertisement on a passing bus. "BLIND Dates! Find love in the dark!" I whipped around to catch the number. Of course! They had put in a restaurant that you ate in pitch darkness a few months ago. It would be the perfect place to finally have a full date!
The following Thursday I entered, invisible, the place ready to find my table. I sent a text to my would be date that I was running a few minutes behind so I could sit down in the dark. As soon as the lights went off I followed the glow in the dark map they had given me to table 18.
"Is that you, Patrick?" My date asked. Yes-my name really is Patrick. There's a reason supervillains never use their real names, and it's because mothers never expect their sweet sons named Patrick or Kyle or Desmond to go bad. News flash, all the villains I know are named like that.
"Yes I am sorry about being late. Traffic you know?"
"Oh no it's fine. I am usually the late one. You sound nice. I like your voice." I could hear her smiling while she spoke. It was great. We talked about nothing important for some time. Our food was decent and I was enjoying myself. She seemed like someone I could do this again with. I decided to take a peek at her with my nightvision goggles I had snuck under my jacket.
She was gorgeous. Cassandra was no supermodel, but she was the sweet kind of gorgeous. She was someone you could build a family with. Family? What supervillain thought about family.... | 2022-11-30T23:13:37 | 2019-02-23T08:29:02 | 1,144 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is born with the ability to "see" beyond themselves, and the longer you remain still, the further you can see. After decades of remaining still, you can see the furthest of anyone in the world. One day, you see something that makes you stand and start walking. | It started when I lost my job.
I had nothing.
My parents had decided a young child didn't fit their lifestyle and were mostly absent from my life. I acted out. I ran with the wrong group. I never learned how to take responsibilities for my own actions and I raged against my parents every moment I had, blaming them for my own faults.
My girlfriend left me when she grew up and realized I never would. Two weeks after my 28th birthday, I was escorted from my job by security. I sat at the bus stop and life passed me be. LIFE. People walking and laughing and joking and crying and yelling and just living.
Night had long fallen and I still sat on the cold bench. To my right, an old pamphlet rippled in the cold wind. A streetlamp flickered above and I read the paper for the hundredth time.
Seeking subjects for long term Sight reading.
The address was a local hospital.
Fuck it.
I went the next morning. The program was still running and they accepted me easily enough. I would sit unmoving, with an IV feeding me what I needed. There was a minimum of a month required. I told them I'd stay longer and they laughed. Their longest subject was three months.
I sat. As I had at the bus stop. Life continued around me. When I reached the three month mark, I was asked how long I'd stay and I said nothing. I slept and, when awake, I ***looked***.
After 5 months, I could see the next day's lottery numbers. That's how it worked. The longer you sat, the further you saw. Further into the future. But you couldn't move. I lied when they asked what I saw. I lied about the numbers. I could get up, take my pay and buy the tickets but I saw three people winning. I saw the echoes of their ghosts and knew one would use the money for their child's cancer and another to start a charity to help those killed in drunk driving accidents, as their husband had been.
What would I do with that money? What could I do? Buy a house? A nice car? Waste my life away as I had?
And so I sat. Sometimes I lied, sometimes I told the truth, bundling it out in safe packets.
After a year, I was the longest seer ever. After three, I began to get petitions for information. From government agencies and rich people. I saw some of their futures and was horrified by most. Horrified by the lives they lived and what it took to get there. I did my best to guide the river of time around the stones they threw to divert the path of mankind in their favor.
A decade passed and I no longer noticed who cared for me. They began to revere me. And fear me.
More years. Time lost meaning and I sat rooted in horrid fascination of the events unfolding in time. I saw the subtle influences from minor players and major and the effects they had. Some of those were due to the lies I told.
War was coming, pushed by the forces in the shadows.
I didn't hear the young girl beside me ask why I was crying. I closed my eyes and still saw the mushroom clouds blooming.
I opened my mouth to answer but the vision changed. I saw a baby, crying in a war torn city. A newspaper fluttered by in my vision and I saw the date - ten years from now with strange cursive text written in columns. A small, brown skinned infant girl with a lock of black hair bawled in the night.
She.
She was a path forward. I saw the faint, trembling echoes of it and I ***moved***. Attendants around me gasped and my vision wavered.
"No!" I cried out. "Just a little more! Please!"
The vision was fading. I moved and, thus, broke the flow of time. It was fading, centered on the girl. Only. Only now I saw a cloaked figure moving, walking toward her. Leaning over to pick her up. The babe whimpered and the figure turned and I saw myself in the weathered, bearded face.
Ten years.
I moved, so slowly, and unhooked myself. The room had changed, I think. I tried to stand but my muscles wouldn't hold. I waited a moment and tried again. People spoke around me, asking what I saw but I closed my mouth in a grim line.
I moved and my legs lid out before me.
I had no idea how long it would take before I could walk. I had no idea how far I would go. I had spent my life looking and listening and lying and the entire debt of that fell heavily on my shoulders.
If I didn't move, we all died. If I couldn't find her, we all died.
"One step," I rasped, willing my legs to move. My toes twitched and I groaned. "One step."
I turned to the young woman beside me and I didn't recognize her or anyone else.
"Help. Me." I begged. "I have to go. I have to."
They lifted me without a word and the room was silent. I held fast to the wall as arms held me carefully. My legs trembled. My knees creaked. But I took a step.
Despite the pain, I took that step.
"I'm coming," I whispered to the girl in my vision. The girl that wasn't even born yet. I had so much to tell her. So much to teach her. So much debt to repay. | here i sit, solid as a mountain. here i have sat for years, decades, maybe even centuries. my awareness expanded lowly at first. first i could feel my heartbeat, hear the air rushing into my lungs. then i started to become aware of the rest of my body, the limbs, the organs, eventually even the most intimate detail of of every cell. at each stage i observed until i understood. until i could see the patterns, the systems. until i understood it to be independent of my 'self'.
after several days my awareness extended past the barrier of my skin, i began to sense the world around me, to 'see' the people walking past me in the market. my senses expanding faster now, first the market, then the city.
after a month i had reached as far away as my own temple, further than any of my brothers had ever managed. after 2 months i could feel the next capital, and then the whole country, before long i encompassed an entire continent.
at the end of my first year i had known the highest mountain peaks, all the darkest ocean deeps,i bore witness to the great leviathan, and every corner of nature and every human culture. and i had passed beyond them. i was discovering new worlds as they danced, now closer, now farther, around our life giving mother.
and still i continued. i have met every one of our worlds thousands of siblings, both great and small. and i saw how dead it all was. those celestial bodies danced and sang, danced and sang, giving the impression of life but no more than that. terrible, dead things. greatly disturbed and deeply saddened i continued pushing out.
out.
out into the deep black recesses of the great void. so vast, so empty and dead that i almost lost myself, and all the vibrant life of our small world. smaller than a speck in all that deadness.
outwards still i pushed, out to the next star, and the next, and the next after that, each as lonely and dead as the last.
i stretched out farther and farther, so far that that all the fast emptiness between home and the next star seemed as naught. so far that i could not tell our great mother apart, i now contained millions just like her, all of them chased by cold, dark corpses.
outwards. out to the next great body of stars, there i paused longer than i had before, lost in grief. for i had found, among the myriad spheres, frozen or boiling, a single world, just like our own. but all its peoples were dead, the last embers of life now slowly fading. they had ended it themselves i sensed, so lost and alone, so afraid if the eternal darkness that they had turned on each other in the bloodiest, most devastating of wars.
eventually i moved on. lost in so much darkness, so much space, i began to forget myself, disheartened by all i had learned i wandered on in all directions, so distracted i failed to notice entire galaxies passing into my awareness. it felt less that i was expanding and more like all of creation was rushing towards me.
then, my mind touched another. some great, terrible thing hidden in the deepest blackness of creation. indescribable in its hideous vastness, far larger than the reach of our own mother, vaster even than was i at that moment. in my minds eye i glimpsed only a thousand glowing spheres.
as my mind grazed against that great horror i felt its primal, labyrinthine, intellect. that great, malign, all-knowing thing. i felt its gaze turned on me, felt it reach out towards me, and in my terror i fled.
on shaky, long-unused legs i ran, collapsing suddenly before my temple doors. i don't remember standing, nor those first shaking steps, i dont even recall turn to flee back into my body.only those haunting, alien words, the whispers of some great and forgotten God. their meaning unmistakable.
"I am the gate. and the key. ^and ^the ^guardian. ^^the ^^all-in-one ^^^and ^^^the ^^^one-in-all..."
________________________________________________________________________________________________
[a love letter to lovecraft.](http://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/14/146053/3242526-yog_sothoth_by_hvergi.jpg)
[and to a certain monk.](http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-31125338) | 2017-03-03T11:47:23 | 2017-03-03T08:17:08 | 373 | 53 |
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