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 are walking down the street on your way to work when suddenly you burp, hiccup, and sneeze at the same time. A HUD menu opens in front of you with “Resume, Options, and Quit” as selectable options. | "Ow"
Mike said as he stopped to wiped the snot-spit from his beard. That was when he saw the screen. It was mostly black, however transparent, with a solid red border. Within the border were 3 boxes. Bright white text filled each box "Resume", "Options", and "Quit".
Mike looked around the street. He noticed he could only move about a foot in any direction, and everyone on the street was as still as a statue. He could see pigeons hanging in the air.
He didn't know how long he contemplated the menu before making any decision. "How often do you sneeze, burp, and hiccup at the same time?" he thought. " This could be the only time this happens. What if this is real and I'm not dreaming? Then I could really mess something up." he thought back to all the videogames he'd played in the past, and how many of those games he crashed with mods.
"Fuck it" he said as he tapped the "Options" button with his finger.
The screen morphed, the boxes vanished and new ones appeared. Some had new text next to them.
"Save Game" was at the top of the screen.
"Load Game" came next, alongside "Last save : October 09 1990 03:15:42 A.M" next to it. Mike noticed the date, it was his 5^th birthday.
"Difficulty" Read another, alongside "Hard"
"Stats" with "Average"
"Graphics" and "Ultra"
"Sound" stood alone.
"Other" underneath that, and at the very bottom, on the left side of the menu was a box with an arrow facing to the left.
Mike Tapped "Stats"
The screen morphed again, this time 4 boxes appeared side by side. From left to right they read. "Low", "Average", "High", "Godly".
Mike glanced around the street, then quickly jammed the "Godly" button. the screen quickly changed to a rotating triangle for just a moment, then shifted back.
He didn't feel any different. He hit the box with the arrow, and was brought back to the "Other" Screen. He tapped sound, only 2 options, "Off" and "On". He hit the arrow. This time he chose "Difficulty". Similair to the "Stats" page he had four options. "Easy", "Normal", "Hard", and "Godly". Mike tapped "Easy" and like before the rotating triangle appeared briefly. When the button reappeared he went back again to the "Options" page, and hit "Save Game" the triangle appeared again lingering for just a moment longer than before.
Mike tapped the arrow again and hit "Resume".
The screen vanished and Mike took a deep breath, and continued his way to work.
(PT. 1- I do have a plan for mike if people like what I've written thus far, will be posted around 7-8 cst after work)
UPDATE: Sorry folks, got busy here. Gonna try and get it posted before bed otherwise ill post in the morning. writing stories is harder than I thought and I'm getting some writers block already as well. | "HHEEhhUPBRUUUH"
The world around me became dull and colorless. Everything became still and silent.
There in front of me was three words that would change my life forever:
Resume
Options
Quit
"Well, shit."
My life is a simulation? This was not good for my paranoia. Then again, was it really paranoia? Since a young age watching movies like *The Matrix* and *The Truman Show*, I've entertained the thought of the world around me being somehow fake. Never super seriously, and I never vocalized those thoughts to anyone, but they were always there. The concept was nothing new to me.
As such, I didn't have a mental breakdown. In fact, this was one of my many fantastical scenarios that I was mentally prepared for. I suppose that's the plus side of being a nerd with too much time to daydream. Put me in front of a beautiful woman and I'd stutter and stammer my way through a little small talk if I could manage, but ask about my zombie apocalypse plan, and I'd give you my top 3 escape routes for the past 3 places I've lived.
This was no different.
The first thing I did with these floating words in front of me was click on "Options", then, with satisfaction, I see "Controls" as a choice, which I quickly select.
I immediately scroll down through the control options, until I see what I'm looking for:
Pause Menu: action_Sneeze + action_Hiccup + action_Burp
I shook my head in disgust, and quickly changed it to this:
Pause Menu: say "Pause Menu"
"What the fuck kind of backwards ass developer makes these control systems? I swear. I'm just lucky they didn't put me on inverted." | 2018-05-05T06:14:11 | 2018-05-05T06:06:38 | 69 | 39 |
[WP] "Thank you, chap," you say cheerfully, "I'm glad to be out of there, the room service was rubbish." The prison guard who just released you from the 120 year sentence dropped the door keys on the cement in shock. | The guard stares at me in confusion. He finally realized he no longer had his keys, and dove down to pick them up.
"I say, a bit of a butterfingers are you?" I chuckled. "No worries, it's just another thing to add to my letter."
"Letter?" The guard had finally found his voice. "What letter?"
"To the newsies, boy. I will be writing a very strongly worded letter. I mean, I haven't even been fed in the last, what? Eighty years or so? They stopped laundry only a few years before that."
The guard backed slowly out of the room. I eyed his uniform. They had changed the design again. What had once been a smart set of dark blue suits, was now some kind of... Ugh... Khaki one pieces. As my eyes began to adjust to the light, I could make out some stitching on the breast pocket.
"Old Joey's Security Professionals. I say, is the jail bringing in a third party for it's wardens now?"
"What wardens?" The man finally asked.
"What wardens? Why the jail wardens! I know I had a life sentence, but one hundred and twenty years isn't enough time for the language to change that much!"
A small black box on the man's belt squawked.
"Hey Frank, did you find that old storage closet?" A voice came from it.
The man grabbed the device and spoke into.
"Hey man, call the boss. I found some hobo in one of these old cells."
"Hobo? Hobo!? How dare you sir! I may not be in the best shape right now, but I am no hobo! I am Charles Depree the Fourth, head of the Dupree lineage!"
The man ignored me and backed up out of the cell.
"Damn it Frank, you know Joey don't like being woken up. Just kick the guy out and get the damn mop and bucket."
The man... Frank... looked at me. He was obviously trying to size me up. Once he was satisfied, he nodded, and motioned for me to leave the solitary cell.
"Okay then Mr. Dupree, you are free to go. Get out of here before we call the cops."
I sniffed. I had expected more fanfare. The Butcher of Delville should at least warrent a few reporters. This was ridiculous.
"Where are my clothes! I arrived in a fine bespoke suit! My personal effects are to be returned!"
"Dude, we ain't got no suits here." The man seemed to weigh something in his mind. "It is cold out though, we'll hit up lost and found and find you something warm to wear. Just don't tell your friends or nobody I did this though, it'd be my job."
I followed the man up through the jail. It looked... unused. No inmates called out from their cells. No nasty wardens popped up to beat me. Nothing but dust, cobwebs, and what I presumed were cleaning supplies that Frank had grabbed from the isolation cell that had been next to mine.
He stopped long enough to give the strange bright yellow bucket and mop to his coworker, then led me to the front of the jail. The Head Warden's office had been turned into some kind of shop, and from here Frank pulled out a box filled with clothing.
"Here, try and find something that fits. And layers, I don't know how you got here dressed in rags like that, but it's below minus fifteen out there."
"Negative fifteen degrees!? It never gets that cold!"
Frank gave me another strange look. I would most certainly include this rude guard in my letter.
"Right Mr. Dupree. Look, there might be a shelter open on Butcher Avenue, head there."
"I will return to my ancestral home. Where I belong! I may be a criminal, but there is no need to treat me like this!"
"Sure dude."
Frank let me out. It began to occur that the prison was no longer... in service.
"Mr. Frank?"
"Yo."
"When did the prison... cease being a prison?"
"About... two hundred years ago? It was decommissioned in 1995. Here, take one of these pamphlets with you. If you wanna know more, come in when the museum is open."
Frank shoved a pamphlet in my pocket, then pushed me out a side door into an allyway.
"Two hundred? 1995? But that... that was when I was supposed to be released." I tried to ask more, but he had closed the door.
Edit: butter fingers. | They never believed me, I told them that I didn't do the killings. I mean how could I when I wasn't even on this primitive planet yet. Yet they kept saying it was me, they had video of me killing those people at the nuclear power plant.
Of course it wasn't me, it was the fugitive I was assigned to collect. Sneaky little bastard must of gotten a hold of a holo projector and disguised himself as me. These primitive primates bought the disguise hook line and sinker. And of course I was bond by my own organization to follow any laws on the planet I'm on.
I tried of course to contact HQ and get some assistance, but since this planet was a class D they couldn't directly interfere for risk of more contamination. So here I sat, for 120 Earth years. Thank goodness my species has a much longer life span then these humans. But it was still BORING sitting here for those years.
Thankfully today is the day I get out. Come 8am the guard will come down and will let me free. Ha it's kind of funny in that aspect at least, they all lebal me as a nut job when I tried to convince them that I wasn't human. Then as the years went by and my face barely changed I became a local legend.
Hmm speaking of the guard here he comes now. It seems he's one of the new guards they hired recently too. The man was decent in shape, though still very much had that "baby face" going on.
He finally reached my cell and started talking, though I couldn't care much on what he was saying. Pretty sure it was the whole you're being released this day spill. And then he started to shutter and his eyes got all big and bulgy like.
"It s-says here you served 120 years sentence! B-but h-how?" The poor guy looked like he couldn't believe it.
"Yup, yup. Did my time here, now can you please unlock this cell so I can leave." I tried to be patient sounding, but in all honesty I just wanted get as far away from this miserable planet as soon as possible.
"Yes of course." That seemed snapped the guard out of it. As he reached for the key hole, his hands shook a bit. Finally key in the lock he turned it and the cell was unlocked.
Poor guy must have been really spocked as after he unlocked the cell he simply let the key fall to the cold cement floor.
I gently opened the cell with a smile on my face. I was finally free to leave this planet. With any luck I wouldn't have to see an other human again for a long time from now. But before I leave I think I'll be a bit cheeky with this guard.
"Thank you, chap." I say with the cheerios voice as possible. "I'm glad to be out, the room service was rubbish."
With that I activated my bio implant that signaled my sleeping ship to wake up and teleport me to it. Now I have to file a damn report about why i was stuck on this planet for so long. | 2019-07-04T20:53:01 | 2019-07-04T20:40:12 | 137 | 59 |
[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" | They called it a 'decompression chamber' for a reason. Not just because it fit well with the other fun aquatic idioms like 'coming up' and 'riding the wave', but also because it was literally a chamber in which to decompress. The liquor flowed almost as fast as the profanity here, and if it wasn't for the colossal array of screens flashing statistics and highlights that occupied one wall and the moving walkway between the simulator arrays and the cryogenic ports, each of the stations could easily have been mistaken for any of the thousands of similar establishments inside the game.
Personally, Elia couldn't remember which had informed the design of which anymore. Enough cycles could do that to you.
*".. fucking asshole sniped me! Like, are you kidding me? If you're going to assassinate someone, especially someone who way outranks you, at least have the courtesy to use a fucking melee weapon.."*
Her run had been good enough that there wasn't much to complain about - a top 10% run was her best yet, and a sign that all that mid-game optimization practice was really paying off. The rest was fine tuning, and a little bit of luck. Of course, for some people, it was that last bit that always got them..
*".. sick of bullshit RNG, I swear. If I don't get a decent clean gene start next go around I'm going to choke on a toy and at least save myself some effort."*
*"Good luck doing that these days. I think some of these high rank runners are implementing bullshit safety measures just to keep us from getting all those practice resets that they used early on.."*
She scanned the crowd for familiar faces between watching the highlights and let the conversations wash over her as the stations rolled by. She didn't recognize anyone, which came with a brief twinge of sadness, but it was quickly overwhelmed by eagerness - after all, Nia wouldn't have waited after a top 10% round, either. She'd be first in line to get to the next round.
*".. strategy for early game animals? Dogs are everywhere and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing wrong, I keep getting bitten."*
*"Seriously? Just don't interact with them unless they're friendly. Is nobody teaching you signs of aggression? I'd understand if you keep getting run over or something, but dogs? What kind of shitty parents do you keep rolling.."*
"Good run, Miss Elia?" The voice of the facility AI knocked her out of her momentary reverie - she hadn't even noticed that she'd rolled out of the chamber and into processing.
"Oh! Yes. Top ten percent! Hoping I can keep the streak going. Three old age deaths in a row is pretty good, isn't it?"
"Your progress over the last five cycles has been extremely impressive, as has Miss Nia's. Will you be entering sleep immediately?"
"Yes. Yes, I think so."
"Very well. You've been issued port VS-19. Please remain on the walkway until you've reached your destination." It started rolling again smoothly, carrying her into the quiet darkness, with only the parting words of the AI interrupting the gentle hum of the systems that kept the facility alive.
"Best of luck next round, Miss Elia." | "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)**
| 2015-11-25T00:35:57 | 2015-11-25T00:10:22 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | Well, this is just perfect, isn't it?
The only hotel in the area, and it isn't on TripAdvisor. Damn it. I guess it'll have to do. Probably some cheap motel, or something like that.
Hey, this is actually really nice. A big Gothic mansion, with some ancient dead trees out in front. Those black flowers look.. meh, but it's surprisingly fine.
Okay. Floors are creaky, the old man in charge is creepy, and I think that's a black widow. I really don't care, this is the only place I can stay.
Damn it. Woke up in the middle of the night, have to use the bathroom, because my room doesn't come with an en-suite. The entire house is like a maze in the dark, I could swear the floor plan wasn't this confusing in the evening.
Hey! Light! Torches for mood lighting! Bathroom...satanic ritual. Alright, they can do their thing, and I'll do my thing. Wait, are those sacrifices? I'll have to call the cops when I get somewhere with cell phone reception.
Wait, is someone following me? Probably just my eyes seeing things, the moonlight shining through the cracks isn't bright enough for me to make out what's in front of me. Hey, it's that one guy I saw briefly on my way in! He's sleeping... in the hallway... in a puddle of something... and it almost looks like he is missing his brain and the back of his head. Probably just a trick of the light. H's probably drunk, and that dark stuff on the floor is probably whisky, or vomit.
Is that the owner? Why is he wandering the halls at 3 am? Did he just walk through that wall? Honestly, I'm too tired to care. I still haven't found an open bathroom, the last one looked like someone had committed suicide in it.
Oh, a bathroom! The light are even on, if flickering. Okay, wash my hands... is there someone behind me? Sorry, I just finished up here, just need to rinse... and done!
Huh. Could have sworn there was someone in the mirror behind me. Oh well, I just want to go back to bed.
Okay... found the reception. Someone seems to have boarded up the front door from the outside, probably because someone broke the glass and completely wrecked the area. It looks like it's been abandoned for the past hundred years, that's how badly wrecked everything is.
Why am I here, anyway? I don't remember going down any staircases... Doesn't matter. I remember my way from here.
Alright... now someone went and redecorated my room. Hope they didn't touch my stuff. I'm just too tired to care. It's 4 am. Guess I'm sleeping surrounded by claws tonight. Bye! | Once again I awaken. It has been a long time since I have last walked the land but I must always slumber or there will be no land to walk.
The ground is frail, as always. The crust was not made to hold a weight like mine. I stand from the green light-feeding life that has grown to entomb me . I tear the forest appart with my every step, the ground itself is flung across the sky as my feet are raised, the earth behind me collapse in my shadow.
The mighty sun becomes visible as I walk, no longer hidden behind the far away land.
Mankind has changed much during my slumber. I can see them in machines
speeding through the sky. I can feel it through their newly made weapon trying to pierce my skin as I approche the city below.
I shall do as I always do. I will see all there is to see before my new slumber begins. I walk through their city, stone, metal, blood and gore fly with my every step.
Few things in the land survive to tell my tale but maybe Mankind will survive
again. They are, after all, the first to survive twice. They have clever minds, they do not disperse and lose their mate, they group up and reproduce even when there is no land to share, I will see them again.
| 2017-05-05T05:53:53 | 2017-05-05T05:28:24 | 392 | 14 |
[WP] Being a human in human studies class, you’re often asked to confirm information.
. | “Is it true that the floss is a mating ritual?” a squid-like creature asked me.
“Of course it is! Why wouldn’t it be?” The professor, a stereotypical looking alien, interrupted like usual. But I was planning to just break habit and say it, even if I face suspension.
“No, it’s not. None of what you’ve been saying has been true,” I said with a stone face, anger hidden in sight, but not in voice.
“Jim, the textbooks aren’t wrong and you know it.” Yep. He’s going to ask me to stay after. “Now be quiet. And stay-“
“No. How much have you actually seen? All those ‘mating rituals’ were just dances. Works of ‘non-fiction’? Percy Jackson is a freaking fantasy world! The American Civil War happened! A nuclear bomb did not create mutants and did not create new, highly intelligent species on earth! You do not know anything!”
The room was silent. The professor frowned. “Go to the headmaster’s office. Now!” And I did. Rather angrily. The wait was rather quick.
“James Barter, Headmaster Ne’thel would like to see you.” I stood and entered.
The headmaster looked like some furry decided to mix a dragon and a cat together, hence looking frightening and more welcoming at the same time. “So, I heard you… hit a teacher? Odd. Doesn’t sound like something you would do.”
Normally, I would be confused. But this just raised my rage. “No, I didn’t.”
“Good. So what actually happened?”
“Professor March. He keeps saying that ‘the textbooks are right’. He keeps making up ridiculous things and I finally told the class the truth. I regret nothing.”
“Good thing we have cameras in the classroom, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“We knew March was lying before you even got sent in here. Also we know that he threatened the other students to give false statements. Now, it would be unethical to let your action go without consequence, so I’ll let you off with a warning to not yell at professors.”
——read more stories at r/GlacioWrites | " humans as recreation sometimes use poison's as halloucegenics can you confirm this human Steve?" Human Steve looked around shiftily his eyes blood shot. "you can't pin shit on me freedoooooooom." he yelled at the top of his lungs before jumping out of the window. a few seconds later they heard him cackle "You'll never take me alive." "As you can see Human Steve is what they call a paranoid son of a bitch." The professer said as the class nodded warily. "Kath?" "Yes." "Getting Steve high in class has to be our greatest achievement yet." "Remind me why we are friends?" | 2021-11-14T12:12:15 | 2021-11-14T10:59:30 | 90 | 29 |
[WP] You have just been sworn in as President, and are being told the truth about alien life... but it's incredibly far from what anyone had ever imagined. | "In my first term I have to be seen as trimming the fat on our budget. If word gets around that I'm wasting money on... I don't know... searching for aliens, then I'm going to ge-"
"Funny you should mention aliens, sir, we still need to brief you on that."
"Seriously? You guys are hiding aliens somewhere?"
"Well, not hiding. Just not explicitly shouting about it. You see Mr. President, it turns out intelligent life is far more common than we expected. Nearly everything appears to have some form of consciousness. It's just that our time frames and goals are very different."
"So, where did the aliens come from? Where's their home world?"
"Everywhere. The plasmas of the sun, the methane clouds of Uranus, even certain types of rock seem to be conscious. They just don't really seem to care about us. Rocks live for tens of thousands of years. They mostly worry about how to metamorphose. The plasma life in the sun's outer atmosphere flit in and out of existence in a few seconds. Generations pass in a single day. The plasma life basically see us as imperceptibly slow chemical reactions. We think they attempt some form of communication with other stars but we can't be sure it works. We really don't know what they are trying to do but they seem to have an affinity for strong magnetic fields."
"So there are aliens out there but they don't care about us?"
"That about sums it up."
"Why are we keeping this a secret?"
"Well, your predecessor decided that it wasn't very uplifting news. It makes us seem... insignificant. He wanted to wait for us to find humanoid life or at the very least some sort of biochemical life."
"Yeah, he's got a point. It might just breed apathy. Ok, keep the aliens under wrap for now. But, uh, lets push for some funding in something space-like. If we find space people I want people to remember me for it. Anyway, back to tightening the budget. I don't want to be seen funding some sort of turd polishing operation."
"Actually Mr. President, we need to brief you on something." | "So you see, Madam President, that's why the bees are becoming extinct. After the last Ice Age, the planet was repopulated by colonists from every other life bearing planet, each species here is from a far off rock of their own. It was supposed to be like a lifeboat, or perhaps a bio dome."
"Expound on that, please. "
"Well, their own planets had all become too specialized, only one type of life able to flourish there, and that likely not for long. This was an experiment in biodiversity and galactic diplomacy. Earth was intended to encourage more diverse evolution of all species, instead, we humans evolved too well and too fast and soon all will die out except us and those who live within and upon us. "
| 2015-04-18T22:35:51 | 2015-04-18T20:28:02 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] Aliens have just made contact with Earth. Strangely enough, it seems that human technology is superior. | It didn't go as planned. The information was wrong, it was all so very wrong.
20 years ago, according to how humans measure time, they had received a strange message. The message came abruptly, and passed just the same. MIR. LENIN. SSR. It took them time to figure out what those were, what they meant, and where they came from. Earth. A strange planet, blue and green danced on its surface. They knew blue! They knew it very well, for it was their grass and it was highly flammable. They took incredible, high quality photos from their state-of-the art viewing equipment. With determination, they set out for this planet. To conquer it.
Their ship blew up during descent, loud noisy creatures roared around them as they fell. Half of the crew was alive, one quarter injured, and the rest were dead. That count rose once they met the ground. It wasn't blue. Large beings with their faces covered came storming towards the aliens, forceful and aggressive. They were bulky looking, covered in swirled colors of beige and green. They were ready, and strong. Just as the crew had been before the atmosphere ruined their flight.
The aliens didn't know about this. They knew there were beings here, how else could that message have arrived? They'd learned that the message said peace *and* world. They figured these creatures were going to be easy to mow down, peace never meant ready to fight. Frightened and frustrated, those who could fight, stood up and drew their own weapons. Phaser guns. Ko-kopu, a mere underling, fired. It was a loud, sudden pop and light shot forth from the small weapon. That light would vaporize anything in its path, it was how they'd won the war against the Hututuzinks. They eliminated the enemy into thin air. Caught off guard, the bulky being stood and took the hit. It was just a small black mark on his arm. There was nothing more. The being grunted and fired his own gun, Ko-kopu fell where he stood. The aliens stood in shock, their comrade was down. It had fired through his helmet, the reinforced, withstand-all-glass held a small, circular entry point. Never before had the helmet failed to protect against any attack. Loud machines that roamed the ground arrived. They were as noisy as the gun that had slain their own, and picked up the debris of their ship. The was the heaviest metal they had, able to withstand all elements. Except for this planet.
What were these creatures? Why had they sent a message of peace if they didn't mean it? The aliens didn't really resist when they were grabbed. All 8 arms, caught, tied and bound. Another underling Ru-kopu made one last attempt, this time, a peaceful one. He dug the photo of earth from his combat suit and raised a scaled arm to the face of the bulky being.
"Le-nin." He clicked. "Leniiiinnnnn!"
"What the heck is this pixelated crap?" The bulky being snapped, yanking the photo away from Ru-kopu. No one understood what those words were, none learned *this* language.
"Lenin!" The leader joined in, repeating Ru-kopu. "Mir! SSR!"
The aliens began chanting now, swallowing their pride. The chant was a beg for their lives now, they watched their dead comrade be drug away.
"I remember! In 1962 a message was sent to space...I think they got it!"
"That was years ago. You mean to tell me they just got it? What are they, space bumpkins? Haul em up, alert 52."
The aliens continued their chant as they were lead to the loud ground machines.
| The farmer walked around his underground bio-dome, inspecting the progress of his plants and crops. He carried a clipboard, which wasn't really necessary but it helped him feel useful. Harvest time was soon. He'd actually need to put in more than an hour's work when that came around. Farming was easy and secure, but none too exciting. Just as he was thinking about maybe joining an ultimate laser league, he heard a crash from above.
He hurried to the elevator and ascended to ground floor. As he exited the glass car, he heard what was no doubt to him an argument, nearby. Yet, the voices were otherworldly, and high-toned; silly sounding, like sped-up cartoons. He drew closer, quietly creeping, and saw what he knew must be extra-terrestrials.
They were definitely arguing, and they stood next to a spacecraft, if you could call it that. It had crashed into some shrubbery. Steam billowed from several places around it like volcanic pores. It's material resembled something close to copper, bolted together in plates, unpainted- it looked like a craft a NASA crew might build if it was given one day and a junkyard on some reality game show.
The farmer drew out his phone. "Translate," he whispered. The phone played back:
*Well dang-namit Zorpe I told you to check the engine 'fore we took her off. What in the heck happened up there past the flyin' rocks?*
*I don't rightly know Flik-Flak but I'm only tryin' to get us up off the ground. I'd sure appreciate if ya stop layin' in to me.*
Zorpe kicked the ship and the engine sputtered like some old rickety pick-up truck and then died again.
*Aw hell, Flik. I dunno engines.*
The farmer's wife, in a swimsuit and towel, snuck over to him. She had been watching from the pool. "Should we help them?"
"Well, they seem harmless enough. And helpless too."
---------------------------
"You hear that Zorpe? A kinda rustlin' of sorts?"
"Aw shucks. This place gives me all manner-a-jeebies, Flik."
The bushes in the distance rustled.
"Heck is that?"
Flik-Flak had already started off. "High-tail it. Time to fly, Zorpe. Fly!" | 2016-12-06T08:10:57 | 2016-12-06T08:02:59 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] You work a self-sufficient desk job in an office. Every single day, the co-workers in your neighboring cubicles are completely different people. Even though you never recognize them, they always recognize you. After years you've just accepted this, but lately the strangers are getting weirder. | I love my job. I love the hours. The pay is good. It is not a long commute. I can take the light rail and it drops me off outside my tower. I work on the sixteenth floor. I like to take the stairs up. It is good exercise. Taking the stairwell is sort of a ritual for me. It let’s me prepare for work. It’s not the job that bothers me. It is a good easy job. It is the people. You see, I am kind of scared of people.
I’m at the sixteenth floor and I stand there, breathing, preparing myself. I open the door and walk in. It is quiet inside I take off my trenchcoat and fold it in my arm. My briefcase is sagging heavy in my hand after the sixteen floors. I am still wet from the rain I walked through to get to work. I like the rain. Sometimes I think I’ll move to Seattle.
I step up to the refrigerator and place my lunch in there. A man is there waiting for coffee to brew. He is staring at the coffee as it crackles and sizzles in the little machine and drops to the bottom of the carafe.
“Hey James,” the man says. “Another Monday, huh?”
I nod at him as I set my tinfoil covered sandwich on the third shelf. I see small pails with names on it: Sarah, Larry, Carl, Johnson—I recognize none of the names.
I walk past the man at the coffee station. “Have a good day, James.” He says.
“You too,” I say back to him. I don’t know his name and I’m too scared to ask.
I place my briefcase down at my desk and then place my trenchcoat on my hanger.
“Is that you, James?” I hear a voice on the other side my cubicle.
I steady my breath.
“Yes, it’s me,” I call out over the wall.
“How was your vacation?”
“Fine,” I say. “Just relaxed.”
“Ah, that’s good. Always good. We missed you here.”
I don’t recognize the voice. I’ve never recognized anyone in my office. On my first day I was walked around and introduced to everyone. They were all so great and friendly. And the second day they were all so great and friendly again, but they were different people. Yet they acted like they all knew me. It’s been like that every day since.
Maybe I’m going insane. But I’ve learned to live with it. Learned to accept the menagerie of new faces that surround me every day.
I sit down at my desk and turn my computer on. The fan begins to buzz as the computer kicks to life.
“Where’d ya go, James?” I heard a voice above me. I look up and a woman—middle aged, wrinkly skin, red lip stick, curled hair, golden-hooped earrings—was looking down on me from over the cubicle wall. She was trying to hold herself up by her two arms and seemed to be struggling at it. She was resting her weight on chin. I don’t recognize the lady at all.
“Oh, nowhere. Just stayed home and watch some movies and read some books.”
“That’s good, James. You really needed a break. I’m glad you took one.” Her words come out struggled as she is still holding herself up on the flimsy cubicle wall. The wall shakes as she shifts her weight. A pen on my dry erase board falls and I reach to grab it.
“Sorry about that, James,” she says through clenched teeth.
“No worries.”
She lets go of the wall and falls to the ground. I hear a couple of pictures get knocked to the ground on her side. I hear one break and I hear her yell out. I step across to her cubicle quickly and see she’s cut her hand on one of the pictures.
“Are you, okay?” I say.
“Ah, you’re so sweet James. But it’s nothing, just a small cut.”
I look at her hand and its sliced deep up the side and up her wrist and blood is coming out at an alarming rate.
“Jesus,” I say. “That looks really bad.”
She pulls her hand up to look at it, the blood drips down onto her elbow and then pools in stalactices and drips onto the tiled carpet.
“Nah, it’ll stop in a minute. It’s fine. You’re so sweet, James. You’ve always been such a caring person.”
“I can call someone real quick if you’d like.”
She waved her hand as though I was being unreasonable, the blood spraying out in a rooster tail from her fingers. “Nonsense,” she said. “I’m fine…oh!” she looked down and grabbed the picture out of the shards of glass. It was a picture of her in a bright yellow two-piece bathing suit. She was much younger in the picture and she was in the arms of a man in a tanktop and tiny black shorts who was holding her up with his arms and smiling at the camera. The ocean was in the background. She had her arms around the man and kissing his bearded face.
“My husband,” she said, touching the man’s bearded face, smearing the blood over the glossy film. “Well I guess I’ll just need to get a new frame,” she said, placing the picture on her desk, smearing more blood on the white tops.
She bent over to grab the pieces of glass.
“No, no, let me do that,” I said. “Bending over too.”
“Absolutely not, James. You have the monthly report due to Karen today. I know you’re busy. Vacation is never a real vacation. Our work doesn’t go on vacation with us, does it?” She sat there smiling at me vacantly, the blood dripping with a soft tinkle onto a shard of glass on the floor. “Now get back to work mister,” she said. Grabbing the shard of glass with her hand and tossing it into the bin. I saw she was cutting her hands more grabbing the glass.
I turned, took a deep breath and walked back to my desk. She was right, I had a lot to do.
\---
*I'd like to do a Part II, but pretty busy right now, unfortunately.*
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | When did I drift off to sleep?
I don't know. Couldn't tell. Only knew when I finally awoke, stifling a damning yawn that would have sold me out to my neighbours. Everything looked the exact same--the white walls, turned slightly off-grey by the fluorescent light, for example. The sputtering computer on my desk, slow as it was even just on a spreadsheet, somehow refused to die so that I could throw it out and get a new one. Which was basically the only way for something to leave this place, apparently.
But I knew without looking that something had changed. If I were to peer slightly over the walls, I was certain the people surrounding me had changed. Gone within the space of a nap. It was certainly unusual.
I floated slightly up and carefully, so as not to my adjacent colleagues. To the right, this was supposed to be... May? She definitely wasn't a frazzled young man with a desperate comb over now, was she? To the left, Dave looked permanently sullen, but was a down-to-earth hard worker. Assuredly not this middle-aged woman with an easy smile, whistling a jaunty tune while painting her nails.
I sank back down, a soft sigh inadvertently escaping my lips. I stared at the computer, still stuck at whatever it was doing. Whatever I was doing. What was I doing, actually? Eh. No matter. This job had already sapped all my life away. No point wasting precious seconds thinking about it. No way it couldn't be done right after a coffee break.
Coffee mug in hand, I drifted out into the corridor. The workplace was far from flourishing with activity, but there was a quiet undertone of bustle with the click-clacking of keys, the occasional rings of a phone, and nonsensical small talk just to fill dead air and make certain that we were all still alive despite the monotonous minutes.
Yes, my colleagues changed every day to complete strangers. But that wasn't even the strangest part. Everybody seemed to know, or were at least aware of who I was. The older ones--the ones with greying hair and outdated fashion--at least curtly greeted me by name as we bumped into each other. The younger ones stopped and stared, before inevitably scampering away or standing stock still as I meandered past.
Curiouser and curiouser. No matter. There was plenty of time to figure things out. Right now, what I needed was coffee. Or maybe tea? Raiding the pantry sounded like a good idea, anyway. Just before I entered, I saw several people scuttering out, briefly making eye contact with me before swiftly turning away, pretending to have never seen me at all. I shook my head, but was secretly delighted that there the pantry would be all to myself.
There was a lot of new things. A newfangled coffee machine with a touchscreen, rather than buttons, for one. Lots of new snacks, as well, even though some of them were rudely opened and left lying around, crumbs scattered around the table. I tutted disapprovingly. New faces they might be, but did they not know what etiquette was? In this day and age?
I enjoyed what felt like an eternity undisturbed. Yes, it was much like a cubicle, but somehow, knowing it had a different purpose just made it all the more relaxing.
But I couldn't stay here forever. I had to get back to work, right? That's what I'm here for. I tried to convince myself, despite the dubious thoughts in my head telling to just let go and run away. I sighed, this time exasperated. It was not a normal workplace by any means, but meaningful work was what tethered the human soul.
Heh. Meaningful. I chuckled to myself.
Outside, the passageways had become much more quiet. No more people walking around. Less chatter in the air, yet filled with tension and anticipation. I looked over my shoulders warily as I resumed my journey back to the cubicle, but despite the hanging dread, there was no more weird happenings.
I settled down into my chair. Seriously, the computer wasn't done yet? I smacked the top of the monitor a couple of times, making sure that the full force of my hand was in it. The bulky beast did not even change a single frame. Damn it, could it just die and leave already?
A yawn rumbled and escaped. Already? I was so tired, once again. Seriously, maybe it was time to consider a change in my line of work. The money was good, but all these shenanigans? Was it worth the exchange of my valuable lifetime?
I leaned back into my chair. My eyes fluttered, and try as I might, they eventually fell shut, and I drifted off to dreamland once again.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-02-23T07:32:05 | 2021-02-23T07:21:03 | 94 | 56 |
[WP]An ancient dragon sleeps in its cave expecting to only be woken by thieves or would be heroes, what it doesn’t expect is a child pleading for help | Eza was told stories by her mother about the dark cave in the mountains, about the adventures who dared steal the from the dragons horde, only to have there bones and armor become apart of it.
Her village lived in dread of that damned cave, but Eza was always fascinated by it. Many a villager caught her staring at the cave like an astronomer stared at the stars. Perhaps she would have grown out of it. Fate didn't let any one find out.
One night her mother got in a scuffle with an adventure passing by. Unfortunately said adventure was the son of a noble and the family demanded blood. Eza watched her fellow villagers tie her mother down, to offer her up in sacrifice to spare themselves the Nobles wrath. What could a little girl do to save her mother but wake the dragon.
The dragon awoke to the child's pledes and cries, he acted not out of kindness but of hunger, out of greed. He knew that nobles brought gold with them were ever they went and waited for counts men to arrive, killing them all with claws and poisoned breath to spare their silks and metals for him to add to his horde.
By then the mother was already killed and Eza was an orphan. Even if the villagers would accept her, she could no longer return to the people who sacrificed her mother so she stayed in the cave with the dragon.
At the dragons only interactions with the child would be seeing her eat the scraps off his meals, but eventually he would let her rummage through his horde. What was she to do, take it back to her home.
But after awhile he helped her around, as she grew older she learned the dragons tongue, and the dragons for the first time in centuries could speak to one who could speak back. To tell stories that one could actually listen to. To be heard and not feared is a feeling easily forgotten by the mind but not the heart.
In time Eza learned how to use the various magical trinkets in her dragons cave, by the time she was a maiden she had also became a witch famous for leaving the cave in search of gold and treasure to bring back to her adopted father.
As time went on she grew old and the dragon did not, soon she became to frail to leave the cave, to old to move. In the coming years the poor dragon would lose his partner to time itself.
If ye merchants were to learn that dragons tongue and ask the most valuable thing in his horde of treasure and jewels,he would nearly look over to the skeleton sitting on throne and speak of his valuable partner and the memories of her life. What he doesn't realize the most valuable thing in the horde is the rarest substance on earth. The tears of a dragon. | “Ughhhhhh! A child?!?”
Grumbled the dragon, rousing himself from a thousand year slumber.
“At least a thief would have been a little bit exciting... what with the burning and the screaming...” the dragon thought to himself.
“What do you want? And how did you even get in here for starters?!? I sealed this cave up mighty good. What’s a little pipsqueak like you doing here?”
“I, I, I need help...” trembled the child.
“You’re not even pretending to be a hero on some sort of quest... how utterly disappointing. How utterly boring of you. You’ve woken me up... for this? Do you know how hard it is to wake up when you’re my age?!” The dragon sighed. “What is it that you need help with?! Have you lost your little wooden sword in the woods somewhere? Grazed your knee? Can’t find your way back out of the forest?” The dragon scoffed.
“I don’t know how to tie my laces...” The child teared up.
The dragon, not having time for this shit, ate the child in one bite.
“10 more minutes.” The dragon said to himself as he began to doze off again. | 2021-11-06T03:22:53 | 2021-11-06T02:32:37 | 208 | 67 |
[WP] You've recently become president of the United States- unfortunately, life isn't nearly as fun as you'd hoped. You begin doing crazy things to get out of office, but every thing you do seems to be the right thing at the right time. | I didn't want to be President anymore. I couldn't deal with the stress.
Sure, I'd thought it would be funny to run for office. I thought it was really hilarious to announce my candidacy, create my own party on some website (the "Government Sux" party- yes, with an x at the end of "sux"), and jokingly run for office. I thought it was pretty funny when word spread, people began supporting my party, and I was elected as the official Government Sux candidate for office. I didn't think it was so funny when TV stations began camping outside my house, when my job let me go so I could "focus on my campaign", when billionaires began donating the party money and advertising my platform on every media outlet. (My platform, by the way, was "Screw government.")
I thought I had died when I won. Some people use that as an expression to explain how happy they are about something- I literally thought that I had died, and this was some kind of afterlife joke. Nothing else could have explained why I was voted into presidency by the American people, and in an 80/20 landslide victory, to boot.
I tried, at first. I really did. Normal people with no political experience simply aren't equipped to hold office. Officials were coming to me left and right with all sorts of horrible problems- civilian casualties from an ongoing war, homelessness statistics, the national debt. I didn't know what to do, I hated the responsibility. I ended the war so I would stop hearing about all of the death. The American people were so ecstatic to have their loved ones come home that polls predicted I would be reelected at the end of my term. I tried to renounce my position, and the senate rejected my request for fear that the people would become angry.
My next move was to propose the end of currency in America. I figured something so obviously ridiculous would make people begin to speculate about my credentials and remove me from office. The bill passed unanimously, the United States regressed to a barter system, and I was hailed as having "brought peace back to America". With the American dollar gone, the rest of the world economy had to react, and pretty soon all the other countries followed suit. Violent crime over monetary disputes dropped throughout the globe, and economists applauded me for my excellent plan.
I spent many nights thinking about what I could do to end the hell that I had been placed in, and came to the conclusion that I couldn't possibly be praised for murder. A drastic situation called for a drastic solution. I waited until my next U.N. meeting, and in front of each and every world leader, I shot the prime minister of England. He died instantly, and I was sure I would be removed from office and sent to prison. Even death row would have been preferable to the torture of office. The Queen called the next day to thank me and explain that MI6 had uncovered a stockpile of illegal nuclear weapons he had been hiding at his personal residence. She knighted me for my service to Great Britain.
I had to try something unorthodox- something impossible. Perhaps if I was certifiably insane, I would be impeached through some kind of old law in the books. I held a press conference and declared death illegal. A week later, the news broke that my law had urged genetic researchers to push forward with their work at breakneck speed, and one of them had discovered the secret to halting the aging process. The people of the world, upon hearing that immortality was now conceivable, banded together into one super-country. Borders were erased and each and every soul came together and concluded that they would be happy living for eternity under the direction and guidance of one person- me.
Maybe I'll declare that we build a colony on the sun and volunteer to be the first explorer, if I'm lucky I'll burn to a crisp and end this horrible existence... but it's more likely that I'll just be stuck as the President of the Universe. | You'd think that being the most powerful man in the world would be a blast, I mean who doesn't dream of controlling a nation? It's more like the nation is controlling me. Like, what the hell? This isn't what I signed up for. I had to wake up early and attened meetings, I had to have emmotionless guys in back suits follow me around all day, and I could never be alone. Even when I was in my room their was sure to be some hidden camera.
I decided to turn in my quitting notice, except I had no boss. I would have to get myself impeached.
The first thing I did was brilliant, I made an executive decision to launch a drone strike and it's target would be China. I selected a random location on China, and boom, launched them. Next thing you know, I'm beings asked to head downstairs for a meeting with the generals. I prepare myself to be yelled at, only to hear applause as I enter the room.
"Congratulations sir. You successfully uncovered and destroyed China's secret Nuclear weapons stash. The CIA had been searching desperately for years now and you finally closed their case."
*Oh dear god.* It was alright, because I had more idea's up my sleeve. I just got unlucky last time. This time, I would make a speech accusing the vice president of rape! I would provide some random sex tape on the internet as evidence and the public will surely discover it is a hoax and accuses me of lying. This didn't go as planned either, it turns out the sex tape I find was off the Vice presidents twin brother raping a 15 year old freshmen. He was convicted and sentenced to life in prison. The nation cheered my name for days after this event.
Thirds a charm, I'd just been super unlucky until now. I would purposely rip apart one of the White House's most valuable paintings in front of the media.
"I'd like to start off my speech by showing you all this painting. It is the most valuable one in the white house, and maybe the most decorated as well."
I ripped the painting, and out from it feel a piece of paper with numbers on it. When traced, the numbers led to the discovery of Noah's ARK and reinstated religion across the world.
"Mr. President," my primary investor started, "You are on track to a strong campaign for a second term."
| 2015-09-12T20:27:59 | 2015-09-12T19:14:11 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Humans have stopped using sharp objects and bullets to kill. Describe what happens in a war. | Neutron Instability Cascade, or NICs as we called them in the service were a new weapon of war. It replaced damn near everything overnight. Not really sure how it worked, but it somehow popped the neutrons off an atom, which in turn made the whole thing unstable. Not in a nuclear bomb sort of way, but turning folks into hydrogen and trace other elements. It got hot real quick when one of those things was used and then gas and haze. After a few minutes it got real cold. Something about an energy exchange the intelligence people said.
I remember running in the snow, and hearing that “click clack click clack” sound of the NICs firing. Sounded like one of those annoying air filters with the metal filter. Couldn’t see the beams fired, but whatever they hit turned to gas. Hell, armor was useless, would go through anything without stopping. Only reason to duck behind a wall was to make sure they didn’t see you. That’s when they started working on that optic camouflage in earnest.
I was deployed in Georgia then. Defending borders until General Chelsea’s push south. Before the war Georgia was beautiful, before we put all the ruts into the earth and flattened near everything. The fighting was so thick, by then end it was snowing, in July. Our weapons pulled so much energy out of the area it was screwing up the weather.
One morning we were doing a patrol when a NIC bomb dropped on the jeep in front of us and the whole thing went up in H-smoke. The rest of ducked behind an old gas station, lying as flat as we could in a small ditch. I was next to Dakota, a nice lady from Iowa. We were close. Real close. She took NIC-grenade to the chest. Nothing left but smoke and ash. It is hard losing a fellow squad mate and close friend. Harder still breathing them in your lungs when they die. Never took off my resperator mask after that day.
| General Horatio Phillips signaled the readied 12th Fluff cannon group and ordered the 3rd Kings Own Hugable Rifles to prepare for battle. On the other side of the field lay the dreaded Snuggle Bunny division known to tickle prisoners of war. Was there no sanity in this dreaded war of the pillows? General Phillips rode upon his trusty bunny mount in front of the battle group. "Men! Today we go forward to defend our way of life. Some of us may fall down, other may have their feelings hurt, but we shall all serve as pillow men!" | 2014-11-10T12:21:16 | 2014-11-10T12:20:47 | 52 | 14 |
[WP] Norse Gods have faded into legend. Thor, with his trust-worthy Mjolnir, decides to rebuild his fame,by becoming the best damn construction worker known to man. | It used to be that anyone could get famous—just kill a few sheep, scream about having some god as a father, fuck someone famous, and you had your fame\(and some other issues, but never mind that\).
But Thor knew, nowadays, even without any counsel from Kvasir, that things were not like that anymore. Many of the gods from the Norse pantheon had faded away with the death of their believers: beautiful Baldr, terrifying Tyr, even his beloved Sif. Those that remained were shadows of their former self, kept alive by inane comics.
Thor shuddered. The people no longer remembered him as Thor. They remembered a Marvel character, not Thor. Damn authors couldn’t even get the story right—for Odin’s sake, Loki was not his fucking brother. He would have been murdered in the womb.
The red\-headed god sat, pondering alone in his once great hall. He was not clever, that was Loki’s job. But he wanted again to famous, loved and worshipped by mortals, surrounded by true, loyal comrades. Not Loki, who had grown drunk on sacrifices from fan girls\(he accepted his comic persona\), nor Odin, who had grown senile and tired since he “died.”
Once, he had enough power to descend and command the humans himself, but no longer. Now, he needed a medium. Comics were out of the question, for the other, false him already dominated the industry. Yet television was an option. The way it sparked, almost like one of his storms. He knew he could use it.
And Thor had an advantage. Nobody knew his name, so it need not be his. This, he could use to his advantage. An overused name would be best, the easiest to bring up in a conversation. Something like Robert, or simpler, like Bob. Thor\-\-no, Bob could almost hear the conversation.
"*My name is Bob.*" "*By the gods! That's just like Bob who probably Thor, son of Odin, the handsome, muscular, manly man we've been seeing on the telly set lately."*
Then, he would gradually accumulate power and fame until he once again became a god.
Grasping Mjolnir\(handle ever so short\), he called forth the electrical signals, hearing the distant cries of small humans:
"*Bob the builder, can we fix it?*"
His voice erupted, a deep baritone that spread around world:
“*Yes we can!*” | Thor had grown tired of living a boring, hidden life. Being one of the last Norse gods meant he had little connections to continue laying low. So, he decided to bask in eternal fame and glory, becoming renound around the world. In what way would he do it? Simple: using his hammer.
Word quickly spread about this magical blonde traveller who could build almost anything in a few hours. Soon big companies and powerful corprate people caught wind of him. Soon he was hunted by anyone and everyone. Ladies wanted him, men wanted to be him and construction companies wanted hire him!
...
But who got him in the end? Who did he work for? Who gave him the true spotlight? Oddly enough, it was an animation studio looking to make a new show for kids. After signing off on the contract, they needed to come up with a name. They asked Thor what his name was, and thor responded. He couldn't say his own name so he picked a common one.
With a booming voice, Thor shouted:
#**Bob!**
---
Criticism much appreciated! This is my first time actually making a story on this subreddit. | 2018-05-27T21:13:51 | 2018-05-27T20:11:08 | 34 | 13 |
[WP] A magical mirror shows your reflection and your future soulmate. You only see your reflection. | I fucked up. I kicked the mirror over-- a mirror I paid $500 to see. It showed no one. Just me.
Before I could even turn, security grabbed me by the arms and shoulders. "Fuck off!" My thin arms struggled against their firm grip. "There was no one! You hire people to advertise this shit scam?" I almost elbow the white guy next to me, when the body guards take me by the neck, and push me on the floor.
"You're going to have to pay for this, young man." I look up. It's the blonde mustache receptionist. Couldn't be more than 25.
"I," I sputtered, desperation clogging my thoughts, "I can't. I don't have anything."
"It's nearly $500 to see the LoveMate Mirror. That kind of money doesn't just *appear*."
"It wasn't mine." I stumble as I get up. "It was my parents." My tears dragged and pulled, a humiliating condensation. "I was disowned. Please," I begged, "I don't have anything." His step tik'd and tok'd along the cool floor, towards me.
"We'll have to contact your parents then. Why did you think looking at the mirror would help?"
"I thought if I found my soulmate, I would maybe have a place to stay."
His deep suspicious eyes examined me. "Why were you disowned?"
"I'm gay." My lips tremble. I wait for a silent reaction of judgement to pass amongst the bodyguards and the receptionist.
The receptionist nodded at the guards, "It's alright. Let me talk to him, and see if I can figure this out." The iron grip was released. I felt relieved as the blood in my arms returned to normal pulse. I followed him into the next room; some empty office room.
He closes the door. My jaw cletched. Something about his position was weird. Slouched and uncomfortable. "What are you doing?"
"It didn't show for me either. I think they're targetting us-- trying to discourage us or something," his lips curve softly. "I'm gay too." | "Holy shit he's sexy!" I said, unable to contain my excitement. I'd spent my whole day worrying over this moment, worrying over this stupid magic mirror. But now I was happy. So happy I'd come.
I gazed back into the mirror, just to reassure myself I hadn't been mistaken. Nope, just my gloriously divine body and rugged good looks staring back. No girl would ever steal away a piece of my magnificence. It was all mine, forever.
I was the luckiest of my friends. All of them had to go running off, searching for that one person out there. Not me, I had exactly what I wanted, and it was always by my side.
I took one last look at my heavenly appearance before leaving the room, content to continue my wonderful life. | 2014-05-30T22:05:21 | 2014-05-30T20:14:18 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] One night, something grabs your hand as it hangs off the edge of the bed. You give it a firm handshake. "You're hired," it whispers. | The young man shook in fear, succumbing to reality at an extensive rate.
"Who's there?! Who said that?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs whilst parading out of his bed. He tripped over his slippers as he walked towards the light-switch and felt a bump to the chin, he lifted himself up and urged himself to complete his mission.
No longer surrounded by darkness, the light lit the room, but with no one to be seen except himself.
"I must be having those crazy dreams again. I really need to start recording my room at night."
He moved his hand up to the light-switch and pressed his finger lightly against it, slowly turning it from on, to off. As soon as the light dipped out, a black-draped figure appeared in-front of him and lit a crooked smile, a smile of which presented little teeth.
"You're coming with me." was all that was picked up by the young man's ears.
Suddenly, he was surrounded by darkness. He tried to open his eyes, but that was all it was, dark. Engulfed by the night of this sudden inky blackness.
He blinked, and with it, he saw color. The color red.
Fire lit the distance, flames hindered the many dark, tall buildings now surrounding him.
"This world is sadly dying. I heard your call, and thank you for the sentiment. It is now your job to be the Guardian of the Underworld. My time is up, the rule-book is in the cabinet. Good luck."
With these words, the black-draped figure disappeared and left the young man by himself, to suffer for all eternity as the Guardian of the Underworld.
He entered his new home, which was coincidentally where he was teleported to and ventured to the cabinet he had been told about, took the rule book and began to read.
> Rule A: The only chance of returning to the human world, is if someone dreams of being what you are.
| I don't let go after during the shake and I ripe what is attached to my hand up on the bed. It's a leprechaun. If it can shake a persons hand say they're hired and the person excepts, then they switch lives. But if the leprechaun is caught while trying to make this deal, he has to grant one wish. I wish for the one thing I've always wanted, to become a leprechaun. | 2017-04-29T04:54:06 | 2017-04-28T23:36:59 | 21 | 10 |
[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 must say, Master, I am a little curious what you're doing at home. Did you miss the fires, the screams? Seems like your kind of show. I expect a heartfelt welcome home." The Silk Prince helped himself to the tea as he spoke. He stilled slurped, maybe even louder now.
"Merely finishing the last of the sketches," Needle offered as he looked up from his arm, wiping the blood to mix with the ink on his cloth.
"Curiouser still, Master." The young villain let his cape billow into points behind his back, arching over him like wings. "You had your tattoos perfectly crafted to counter the heroes way back when you trained me. What adjustments could you be making now? Afraid you'll get shown up now that your disciple's back in town? I've already finished a fair chunk of the work."
"You're nine years too late, Silk. The massacre already happened. This is the clawback. There's a reason I don't kill the heroes in this city." Needle stood and squared himself. He had taken this stance a hundred times with his protege and the beats of the familiar rhythms of the fight to come sang across his skin.
"I see. Before we start, tell me which it is," Silk said as he sat down the teacup, releasing his scarf to writhe beside him. "Did you join the heroes or did you just lose your spine? Is this manor a retirement home now? Come to think of it, I do smell a faint waft of piss."
"Neither," Needle said, pulling power from his skin. The tattoos were just a cover. The power came from the cuts and scars beneath. "After you left, I saw the blood bath of the Heroes Ball. I saw what happened to the city afterwards. We don't need domination. Balance is-"
Needle was cut short as a blade of silk slashed across his face. Curtains popped from their windows, darting to bind him. He made no effort to move.
"You always were a monologue, Master. I don't actually care." Silk charged, wrist wraps like claws coming in to finish the job. "I'll kill you and every junior varsity hero left in this town." The claws sank into Needle's chest as Silk stared confused up at his teacher.
Needle was silent and still as the stones. He didn't dodge the next swipe or the next. The curtain began to choke him as it lifted higher.
"In all the years you trained me, I never landed a blow on you. I'm better but not enough to explain this." Silk pulled back, letting his cloth go soft, dripping blood onto the fine marble.
Needle closed his eyes and breathed deep, reading the language of the wounds set against the discordant melody of agony. "It's a pity, Silk. I did cherish our time together. You were the closest I had to a son in my lonely life. If you had just waited five years, you would have been perfect here to take my place, but the city isn't ready yet."
"I don't see-" Silk started, before his eyes started to bleed.
Needle had drew in more than he had in years and it was leaking already. With almost no control, he released a shout of pain through the manor, breaking the glass in a rolling echoing cascade. Silk's head exploded, most of the mess contained by the cloth before it all fell limp to the stone.
Beyond the broken window, Needle could see the small band of young heroes, most still children, arching across the sky towards the fires. He collapsed to weeping as his wounds pulled themselves closed, leaving long white scars.
/r/surinical | My heros. I dont know what happened, if i let them be. They wouldve probably turned into villains. Good, that i was there.
I lead them to great success, i was the one who made them famous, i was the one, that let the people believe in them. My plan was perfect, until this certain guy showed up. 'Nightscream'. An arrogant, aggressive and bloodhungry murderer. I always kept my heros away from him. He was a number too big for them.
This is the 3rd time he showed up. This time at a conference. "I give you heros one chance to give up. One last chance. Then nobody here gets hurt", he looked provocating around. I was there, too. Just to be sure. Damn, i have a good timing. My fist were ready to punch, and i slowly stood up from my place. The heros, infront of everyone at a podest, were alarmed. "Tell us, what you want, villain. And we dont hurt *you*", the leader Seraph said calm.
Nightscream laughed quietly. Gently, he said "You dont know, who youre talking to, do you?" "I talk to a murderer, who killed too many humans. You are the scum of society." Time to show up. He will kill them, if nothing happens.
"Nightscream. What are you doing in my town?" I went slowly the whole way to the podest, very dramatic and cool. "Ahh, hello, Nox. Do you join me?" "You know what i think of you. Now leave, or i will kick you personally out of this town. Understand me?" "Oh, you made your point clear. Now its my turn. Join me, or get killed with this heros. Your decision." He really wanted to challange me.
"Come here, fool. Lets see, who is doomed, you rookie", i went faster and stared directly in his eyes. "This town only has space for one villain, and thats me." And for this moment, everyone was stunned, looking at a fight, no one ever saw before. A fight, between 2 villains. | 2021-05-20T07:51:13 | 2021-05-20T07:28:17 | 93 | 51 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | It had been like that for years. A shining number one had found its way onto my floor. It was like clockwork. I chalked it up to the sun and shadows being a thing until she showed up. It was a challenge trying to get her convinced that such a thing occurred within my home, let alone trying to convince her that I wasn’t going mad when it switched to a number two.
That day when I brought her home still rang crystal clear in my head. We had just gone out for lunch and I knew that the time in which the number one would reveal itself was fast approaching. That day, I remember swinging that door open, only for a rather interesting surprise to greet us.
“Uh babe, why is there the number two? I’d thought it was only meant to say one? You showed me those pictures all the time.”
My mouth was dry. A forced response left my lips, “Yea, it does say two now.”
\----
It all happened so fast today. Her coming in, the door being slammed against the wall. The number four shining for both of us to see.
“We need to have a talk, now.”
“What’s going on?” I changed the subject. My body was telling me something.
“Hon, I swear it’s good news. But you should sit down.”
“Oh-” My spirits lifted, maybe it wasn’t it was going to be her saying that- My mind jumped before I could process the situation. We all knew what was coming. “Let’s me guess, you got-”
“Honey, no.” She cut me off. She was stern now, a tone I’d never hear from her mouth. “I know why the four is there now. You see, my life is coming to an end soon.”
It was only natural to say that my heart sank. “What do you mean by that? And why did you say it was good news?” The number four had a bad omen in my culture. It signified death and while in modern times, superstitions weren’t the norm, I still clung onto that belief. That gut feeling, it had returned now, stronger than ever.
“Babe, I said like that because I was being sarcastic. You know how flustered I get in these sorts of situations, and I needed a way to draw you away from your superstitions,” She pulled me in, “Honey, it’s stage four now. My time is short.”
All I could mumble was a faint, “No, I refuse to lose you this way.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
\--
r/CasualScribblings
I knew that pregnancy would be one the main ideas people would write on, so I decided to give it a twist, albeit, a little sad twist. | I‘m already sitting! He shouted from the toilet.
No, come out here and take a seat, I think we have to talk about some things.
Babe, i feel like i‘m giving birth here. Can‘t that wait a few more minutes?
Ohh i swear to god you have no fucking clue what that means.
Yeah you think so? Do you want to come in and take a look at that thing i just made?
Noo thanks. but i think you... we made something different...
What do you mean? Finally he came out of the toilet and walked over to the kitchen.
she had imagined this moment in a different way...
Look at the number!
yeah i know a four.
Yes, no shit sherlock. and what does this number say?
it says how many people live in this house.
Well, aaaand?!?
Well, it says four. Last time i counted we were two, right?
Yeah, that’s right. What does the number mean Mason?
I think we got some new roommates. Maybe some raccons that live in the attic?
No, you dingus!
Hm. He stayed silent for a while. Well, in that case... i think... maybe...
We are pregnant!
Nah, then why the four and not ... three... Ohhhh
Yeah, Ohhh you are absolutely right | 2020-09-03T00:53:25 | 2020-09-03T00:49:34 | 644 | 69 |
[WP] The Satanic ritual you performed to summon your soulmate worked! Only thing is, the person you summoned isn’t your recently deceased spouse. In fact, you don’t even have the slightest clue who they are. | It's been a year to the day since you died. We were 22, and we'd been together for 6 years, 3 months, and 25 days. We may have been a bit young to get married, but it felt right, and with a baby on the way, what choice did we have? Not like it mattered to that son of a bitch who thought he could drive drunk until the moment he killed you and our unborn child. But after months of searching, I finally found a way to bring you back, just as you were right before I lost you. I set up the summoning circle, got the candles, and the 5 pieces of you I needed
A pack of Camel crush menthols. You stopped smoking as soon as you found out you were carrying, but before then you couldn't go a day without them.
A pair of drumsticks. We met through the marching band, and you insisted I teach you how to drum so that you could get away from the flutes.
Our daughter's bear. It was mine when I was a kid, and protected me from the monsters in my closet. I was going to give it to her to do the same, but instead it protects me from myself.
A Little Caesar's 3 meat pizza. You had the strangest cravings, and I still remember how you cried when they didn't have any, so we had to get Papa John's instead.
And of course, our wedding rings. You told me you'd kick my ass if I got anything too expensive. I wonder if you ever knew that I did it anyway, and got my friend to buy cheap rings so I could have a receipt to show you.
Finally, I was ready to see you again. I put the last piece in place, and waited. And waited. After what felt like forever of waiting, I felt a strong wind flowing through the room, and a bright red light came from the center of the circle, burning my eyes, but I had to see for myself. Almost as quickly as it came, it left, and there was a baby girl, swaddled in a crimson blanket with a note. How? What? This was supposed to summon my soulmate, bring my wife back to me, not bring me a child. I bet someone in Hell was having quite the laugh at my expense. As I approached her, I noticed everything else in the circle was gone except for the bear and the rings. I knelt down by her, and as I looked closer, I saw my own eyes staring back at me. I grabbed the note on her swaddle, which read,
"Soulmates don't have to be lovers. Happy Father's day, love. Take care of Annalise until we can see each other again.
Love, H"
I should've known. God bless that woman, she gave our daughter a chance, and it cost her everything. I picked her up, and sat on the sofa, holding her to my chest, just as I'd dreamed of every night since I lost her, and for the first time in a year I felt complete. | I knew it was a dumb idea. Offering my soul to the devil in exchange for bringing my wife back to life. My uneasiness didn't subside, not even as someone really appeared before my eyes.
But... it wasn't my beloved Stella. It was as guy. Handsome. But also emitting a strangely uncomfortable aura.
"W-Who are you?!"
Changing from a puzzled look, the man started to smirk. Seemingly amused by my baffeled expression.
"I am known to many as the devil. But as one of my few contractors, you may call me by my name, Satan."
S-Satan? So, instead of summoning my dead wife, I ended up calling Satan? The devil? I must really have done something awfully wrong, haven't I? But all I did was follow the description of the ritual. I haven't missed any of the mentioned steps!
Probably!
"Oh, pardon me. You have splendidly performed the ritual to summon your soulmate. If you were any regular human, you might have succeeded in meeting your wife."
The devil walked over the magic circle, closing the distance between us while explaining the current situation. I didn't understand much of what he said, since my mind was filled with questions over questions.
"You are special. Your soul is. Summoning your soulmate isn't restricted to your current life. And your very existence is bound to me."
Satan grabbed my chin, pulling my gaze up to meet his glowing eyes. I must say, he was very mesmerizing.
"Be mine."
My soul was destined to be with Satan. A guy, nonetheless... I think my christian parents will ground me for that one. | 2020-05-31T05:29:11 | 2020-05-31T01:18:52 | 20 | 11 |
[WP]You are a guard in a video game. The main character thinks that they are always able to successfully sneak past you. They don't, you notice every time but would prefer not to have you and your friends be mercilessly slaughtered. | "Hey Rick? Did you see that guy go by outside?"
"I don't see anybody Earl. Don't worry about it. It's probably nothing."
"No seriously. Some guy just hopped the wall to the mansion about 25 feet *that* way. See him there? He's creeping around the back right now."
"...No. Nope. I don't see anybody over there right now. Must just be the wind. Lovely weather tonight isn't it?"
"Rick, it's three in the goddamn afternoon. Seriously, are you okay?"
"OK, *LISTEN* EARL. Shut the fuck up and listen to me? You paying attention?? I know that guy. I *remember that guy*. He hit the house I worked at last month. I was in the toilet, takin' a shit. Dude came in, and killed *everyone*."
"Ki-killed *everyone*."
"*He killed everyone in the yard outside. By himself.* There was a horse we kept in the stable nearby. *Shot that bitch.* He even shot the butler. Guy didn't even deserve it... Well, then again, he always got drunk and ranted about how those "damn millennials are ruining everything" and such."
"Can't ruin shit if I'm forty thousand in debt."
"Right? I shouldn't have went to fuckin' film school."
"Alright, we're off topic. He killed 'em all. Over what?"
"A fuckin' car."
"Huh?"
"The boss' car. He was always protective of it. Y'know, some high end foreign job. A Infernus, I believe."
"A car?? What for?"
"Word is he's a high-end thief. Runs in black market circles. Kills for fun."
"Oh God *no.*"
"W-what?!"
"He's coming. *Look.*"
"Oh shit... *Okay!* We're in the garage; It's just us and the car back here! We gotta' go."
"Rick, the door!"
"We'd have to run into him! Earl, find us a window!!"
"THERE'S NO FUCKING WINDOWS IN HERE!"
"Ummm, uh, I got it!"
"What?!"
"Don't move."
"WHAT?!"
"Earl... If we don't move, play dumb... Maybe he won't shoot us."
"That's it?!"
"Fuck you! Do you have a better plan?!"
"*Shhh...*"
--
The man was intimidation incarnate. A large hoodie and bandanna covering his features. He walked at a brisk pace inside, and for a moment, looked Rick and Earl dead in the face. They glanced at each other and mustered the best they could come up with.
"....Nice weather out today isn't it Rick?"
"I wouldn't know, I'm drunk."
"That's cool; *I'm legally blind!*"
"^He's ^taking ^the ^car."
"^Exactly."
Rolling down the driver's side window, the man studied them some more. And then, to their surprise, he spoke.
"...You guys know I can hear you right?"
"Earl, I think I'm deaf."
"What'd you say now?"
The man put the car in gear, and began to roll away nearby.
"Good call fellas. You'll go far in life."
"...Was that a rocket launcher he was holding?"
"I told you. I don't want none."
---
Inspired by GTA Online.
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
| "This side up", the box read, as all the others did. Only the big black arrow was pointing down, and the box hadn't been there a minute ago. I sighed, rolling my eyes, and thought back to simpler times, when we were untargetable, patrolling the prisons from the ramparts with sniper rifles. When protagonists could only stun or distract us and sneak by. Then some developer decided "Ohey wouldn't it be nice if you could kill the guards too?"
Some of us tried to fight it. Rest in peace, Greg. Others, like me, played it smart. We discarded most of our ammo and weapons in conspicuous locations far away from us, to lure the protagonists away. We wore terrible armor and carried weapons that jammed all the time. Nothing worth salvaging. And we became the most oblivious guards anywhere.
I mean sure, the protagonists could kill us. But most of them would just let us be, content with rifling through our pockets for the few coins we carried. I saw my buddy Tom get shot in the head and chalked it down to "just my imagination" out loud, walking away after a few moments of grief. I got through Skyrim. Freaking Skyrim, with all the completionists crawling about.
And so, that brings me here, staring at this cardboard box of a protagonist's feeble attempt to hide. I can hear him reloading his gun underneath. He just lifted the box a few inches off the ground and peeked his head out at me. Thankfully, I spun around in time. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll think that's how guards patrol. Just spinning around randomly in hallways. Hell, this isn't even a real door I'm facing. It's just an image of a door they glued to the wall. What the hell does he think I'm expecting to pop out of it?
I turned and just made eye contact. I think I'll slowly grow an exclamation point over the course of 3 seconds and give him time to hide or leave. Oh god, he's not leaving. He's drawing his pistol. Remember me. | 2017-05-28T23:28:18 | 2017-05-28T22:04:57 | 447 | 85 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | "Honey. Are you still angry at me?"
Vix, Empress of Medium Earth, Lady of Darkness, Queen of the Shadows let out a sigh, looking up from my throne to face her husband Andrew. He looked back at her, guilt and remorse spread across his face.
"I'm not angry at you," she muttered reluctantly. "I'm angry at the situation."
Andrew nodded in understanding. "I think maybe we should talk about it. If you're not ready yet, we can do it later," he replied.
Vix let out another sigh. She really didn't want to have this conversation.Still, communication was the foundation of all good relationships. "It's just," she paused, trying to think of how to articulate what she wanted to tell him. "Let me start by saying this. I know that all of this," she gestured at the skulls that lined the chamber around her, the furniture made from the bones of her enemies, and the two whimpering men shackled in chains in the corner of the room, "is not really your thing. And I really appreciate you being comfortable with it all."
"Well, I was never any good at interior design. Sure, it's not my style, but it's definitely got style," he replied, giving her a wink.
Vix gave her husband a smile. "You know that's not what I'm talking about. But thank you."
Andrew grinned back at her.
"No, I know that this isn't perhaps the lifestyle you would normally choose. Not to mention it comes with its own difficulties. We have to travel a lot to check on the Empire, and I have very little free time, not to mention the fact that there is a certain stigma that comes with my job. And I love that you've been trying to get involved!"
Andrew nodded. "But it has gone pretty terribly hasn't it?"
Vix hesitated. "I wouldn't say terribly," she said gently.
"I would," Andrew replied."I mean, there was the incident with 'The Spider'."
Vix winced slightly at the memory. Andrew had thought it would be a good idea to get to know her coworkers, and had decided to befriend her favourite assassin. After Andrew had advised him to follow his dreams, The Spider had decided to retire to open up a flower shop. Killing him had been a real shame, and his replacement just wasn't the same.
"Not to mention my attempt at being a torturer," he continued.
That had been frustrating. Andrew had tried tickling them. As an actual serious attempt. It would have been cute if they hadn't been withholding the knowledge of an approaching army. Not to mention he had fed all the prisoners that they were trying to starve tea and cake.
"And my stint as a negotiator didn't exactly succeed," he muttered.
True. Andrew had accidentally helped her soldiers set up a union. It had taken her months to stomp that notion out of them.
"And ruling one of the cities for you was a catastrophe."
Yes, the city of Vil declaring independence after he took over had caused her plenty of headaches.
He gave her a resigned look. "Perhaps I'm just not cut out for this. All I ever seem to do is burden you."
"Darling, that is not true!" Vix replied.
"Isn't it? I don't seem to help you at all!"
"Don't be ridiculous! You have been incredibly supportive. Most men and women would try to talk me out of my job. You not only encourage me, but actively try to get involved! You don't complain about the long hours, the travel, or the fact that we can't really make many friends! Even though I feel like I always have to have my game face on, I know I can always come to you when I need a break. I am so lucky to have you. I really wouldn't be able to do this without you!"
Vix stood up and moved towards her husband, clasping his hands within her own.
"Perhaps we've been going about this the wrong way. What's something that you would like to do? Not to support me and further my goals, but something that brings you joy?" she asked.
Andrew shook his head. "No, we need to help with your career. After all it is more important. You worked so hard to get here."
"That is not true. We are equals in this relationship. And this conversation has helped me realise there hasn't been much compromise on my part."
"Well," Andrew said hesitantly, "remember back at the Inn where we first met? I was about to start learning to be a cook. Before you killed them all of course."
"Really?" Vix exclaimed in surprise. "You never told me that!"
"Well to be fair, there was a lot going on at the time!" Andrew chuckled.
"That's very true. Well how about this? You join the palace kitchens to learn from the cooks there. And then later, when you feel ready for it, we can send you out to the cities that are starting to feel discontent, and you can cook for the poor there, on behalf of the Empress. That seems suitably kind hearted that you might enjoy it?"
"That... that sounds perfect!" Andrew exclaimed excitedly. "And, while I'm doing that, I can keep listen and see if anyone is planning on uprising. And maybe even slip some poison into their food!"
"Darling, that is positively evil. I love it!" Vix exclaimed.
"Well, I am learning from the best," he replied, giving her a wink.
"You sly man. You really know how to make a Dark Lord feel special," Vix said with a blush. "You know what, I think I can take the afternoon off. Let me just kill those two in the corner, and we can spend some quality time together." | The shadows in the castle lengthened with her mere presence, even the guards, trained to handle almost any situation without fear, only barely resisted the urge to shiver as an unnatural cold filled the air. The queen made her way down into the dungeon, moving with unearthly elegance and radiating an aura of control and calm even as she made her way into a cursed place where the sins of a hundred generations of tyrants were allowed to fester, not even producing a slight sadistic grin or disgusted snarl like previous rulers of the castle did in these same walls. Once she reached the end of the tunnel and went through a set of heavy wooden doors however her expression had completely changed, immediately becoming more relaxed, content, and most of all tired as she looked upon the latest mess her husband had made in the royal laboratory,
"Honey, I... I didn't see you there!" her husband exclaimed, slightly muffled by layers of pink foam that filled the room,
"What did you make this time, a new formula of shampoo?" she asked, allowing herself to let out a far from intimidating giggle as blew the mixture away with a small spell,
"Not at all actually, I saw your notes on how those pesky heroes kept on escaping from your traps, and I wanted to help" He replied as he tore off chunks of sticky foam that still clung to his clothes, "Worked a little too well it seems."
"Oh Ian, I appreciate the effort, but I told you, leave all that nasty business with the heroes to me!" she said, she loved moments like these when her bumbling oaf of a husband tried to help, but really she was thinking less sticky pink foam and more deadly pits full of adders,
"You never let me do anything fun Krystal!" her husband mock pouted, breaking soon after into laughter with her joining in soon after,
Her mind wandered to the day when she had met Ian, he was then a humble alchemist, hardly a drop of noble blood in him and yet he had made quite a name for himself due to his skill at his craft even then, other than that there truly was nothing special about him. However she saw something in him the moment they locked eyes, sure it was while his store was trashed during yet another confrontation with those annoying brats who called themselves heroes, and it was about the same time she cast a fireball a little too closely to some poorly placed bottles of oil, hardly a romantic setting. After calling some of the best physicians and healers in her kingdom to tend to the man's burns she still didn't know why she went out of her way to save him, she remembered saying something about future plans or some garbage like that, but it hardly matters, for soon she knew exactly what she saw in him. They couldn't be more opposite, once he could freely talk and move again he showed himself to be everything she wasn't, a hopeless optimist, a humble man who didn't even boast about the greatest of achievements and a kind soul whose warmth provided a comforting contrast to the icy politics she surrounded herself with. She remembered their first clumsy steps into courtship with a smile, the anger of the noble families who hated the idea of their queen running off with some nobody before being harshly reminded on exactly why she was queen with a few executions, and his proposal to her while they were having dinner over yet another riot erupting in the city. She loved this man, but he had no place being involved in her little 'family business'.
"Have a shower dear, I don't know what is in that stuff but it stinks of rotten eggs and burnt corpses!" she jokingly ordered, at least she thought it had a hint of rotten eggs, she had never smelt that particular stench before,
"Yes your terrible majesty!" he laughed as he made his way out of the laboratory, the room suddenly becoming far colder as he shut the door behind him.
What was she here for again? Ah yes, interrogations! Good thing this lab was built right next the the castle dungeons she thought as the shadows once again lengthened, and the mask of the cold, cruel evil queen replaced Krystal Tyrannis with practiced ease and a set of bloodstained torturer's tools manifested out of thin air. The screams echoed through the castle all night, and the guards silently wondered what manner of man the king was if he could go about his day with such cheer when married to a monster such as their queen... | 2020-04-14T06:39:01 | 2020-04-14T05:41:49 | 439 | 237 |
[WP] Prison sentences have been replaced with math problems. Small offenses are questions like "What is 200 times 135?" while life in prison are math problems that has yet to be solved. | When Jonathan was passed over for tenure, again, he went for the next best thing and shot all the members of the tenure committee in the head.
Then, he put his life’s savings into hiring the best attorney he could afford. Not to help him walk free, obviously. The whole point was to spend the rest of his life devoted to mathematics, without having to worry about three square meals and a roof over his head. The lawyer’s job was to make sure he got sent to a facility with plenty of other lifers. He wanted monkhood, not hermitage. He wanted a collegiate atmosphere, with brilliant colleagues he could talk to, solving hard problems like him. That’s part of why he’d wanted tenure, after all.
And he had succeeded.
What Jonathan hadn’t expected, however, was the way his sentence would work. The security around problem assignment was so tight that all convicts were issued a chemical lobotomy before parole, much less freedom. It wouldn’t do to have the answers leaked, after all. They were given shots that killed any recall of their period of incarceration. The drugs had the convenient side effect of permanently impairing cognitive skills - making any future attempts at solving prison sentences that much harder, effectively discouraging repeat offences. The upshot of this tight lipped system was that you only knew what math would hit you once you got to jail. Nobody was getting their problems early, or enlisting outside help, for sure.
So, Jonathan couldn’t be blamed, not really, for miscalculating (ha!) the whole affair. He couldn’t have known that he would wake up on his first day in jail, brimming with glee, only to open his government-issued manila envelope to reveal “Math Made Easy: Kindergarten Workbook.”
“What did you expect, man?” said the prison guard, as he hauled Jonathan off to a stint in solitary, in response to his disruptively obscene howls.
“You ever start a video game right at the final stage? Naw! You got to work your way up! You start at level one, and play your way through!”
Jonathan had twelve cumulative life sentences, one for every member of the committee he’d offed. It would take him a couple years to get through twelve rounds of K-12 math homework. Then, a few more decades for twelve rounds of undergrad coursework and PhD programs. He’d get to play with Monte Carlo simulations again in a century, perhaps - depending on his sanity and all that. | I'm in way over my head this time. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Ronnie he's always leaving me in trouble.
I look around at the dingy, hopeless room falling apart around me. Once white walls were now caked with dirt and slowly peeling paint chips. Ever since the government changed the death penalty to solving math problems, the rate of crime severely dropped causing lack of funding to our prisons due to a lack of prisoners. Math always was a bitch.
A single light bulb in the center of the room slowly swayed back and forth. I turned back to stare at the massive math problem covering the single white page in front of me. I'm sweating though ducts that I didn't even know existed. I've got nothing left to lose at this point. I slowly scrawl numbers "42" in desperation within the answer box at the bottom of the page.
A single word rings out across loud speakers I didn't know we're in the room.
"CORRECT"
"Well I'll be". I said outloud. Hitchhikers was always Ronnies favorite. | 2016-10-24T13:34:45 | 2016-10-24T13:22:46 | 45 | 30 |
[WP] You are an immortal that was caught by the mafia after you betrayed them. They deal with you the same way as traitors, chained to a cement bloc and trown in a lac. After 300 years you are finally discovered by divers. | Three hundred years. For most people, it is a extremely long amount of time, unfathomable for them. Not for me though. Time is somewhat dependent upon ones own perspective, it seemingly goes by faster the older you are because it accounts for a smaller portion of your overall life. If you take a a 5 year old child, another year for them is 1/6 of their life making time appear to be slower, wheres if you take a 50 year old adult, another year for them is a 1/51 of their life making it appear to go by faster. For me however, I perceive 300 years on a bit of a larger scale so 300 years for me seems take almost no time at all. Almost as though its like a trip to the supermarket or something like that. I have spent the past 300 years trapped underwater. I have actually somewhat enjoyed it, its peaceful down there. Funny, isn't it? Mobsters attempted to kill me this way but instead its almost as though they gave me a sort of spa trip or something. I see a diver near me, and I wave my hand in attempt to say hi, but he panics pretty harshly. I guess its not everyday divers encounter someone in my situation still alive. He leaves and comes back with some of his friends and tools. Haha, god you gotta give it to humans sometimes, they do show a large amount of compassion sometimes. They make quick work of my cement shoes, pity, I though they were quite an interesting look. Once I was lifted of the weight, they were slow to bring me up to the surface to get on their boat. Im guessing its due to some risk with surfacing quickly from deep water, one that I haven't had the pleasure of experiencing. After a decent amount of time slowly rising up the water, we break the surface, then quickly board their boat. They are in awe of me, and slightly afraid. This is extremely understandable, as it is a pretty strange situation for them. I ask them for a mirror after dispelling some water from my system. One of the younger one scampers off and retrieves one. I take a the mirror from his hand and thank him, and use it to see what my body looks like. Normal, my body is the exact same way as it was all those years ago. Not sure what I expected, something different I guess but its whatever. One of the divers asked what the hell happened to me to which I reply "Oh, around 300 years ago I ran afoul with the mafia, so they decided to hand make me a pair of cement shoes and gave me a free trip to the ocean. Pretty much just tried to kill me, but as you can see now, they did not do a very good job at it. They gave it a good college freshman try, but it wasn't enough." Another one of the divers questions how I know it was 300 years, "To be honest, I am not sure myself, I just have a pretty good intrinsic sense of time I guess." The youngest diver, the one who handed me the mirror asked for my name, and what I am. "Well, I was given my name in a far distant land in a native language that has long sense been in use. I do quite like the name Bob, its quick and short, so you can call me Bob. As to what I am, I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End."in an attempt to make a joke. The divers freak out a bit with me saying that, so I try and calm them down a bit "Ha ha ha guys, I am just kidding, im not some sort of Judeo-Christian deity or anything like that. I am just Bob, no more, and no less." | How tedious. I had become one with my new environment, studying the bottom of the murky lake and it’s inhabitants. The cool depths wrinkled my skin and flooded my respiratory systems; not that it mattered. After 297 years (my count may have been off, the water and the depths make telling time of day more difficult than I was used to) strange humanoid creatures had invaded my abode.
When they first discovered me it seemed quite a shock to them. I remained totally still, as if I had succumb to my death at the bottom of this beautiful lake. After making several trips to see me, point at me, poke and prod me with all manner of tools and sticks made of metal they finally cut the chain that had kept me here. They carried me up quite carefully. I tried my best to stay as limp as possible. “Bring him up here” a commanding and harsh female voice from what I can only assume to be a modern boat. The two who had discovered me hoisted me up onto the side. My body broke the surface the first time in centuries.
It was hell. Agony seared through my body as the sun hungrily devoured my wrinkled and saturated skin. I bellowed in pain, my overgrown dark hair flinging itself around as I pushed the divers into the water. I charged towards the cabin of the boat, slipping on the floor. Darkness.
“Is... is he ok?” A younger voice... I groan and try to sit up from where I’m laying. I can’t. They’ve restrained me. My first instinct is to panic, struggle, fight. It was that attitude that got me into this mess in the first place. So I wait patiently, my eyes slowly opening as they attempt to adapt to the dry air around me. “Easy there George” the woman’s voice again. “He’s violent, and we don’t know what kind of mental condition he’s in” I hear timid steps as the boy backs away from me. “Yes ma’am.” All of a sudden the pain washes over my head and I groan again, my tongue shriveling in the air. I gasp, and then cough as water is poured into my open mouth. “We need you to be able to speak if we’re gonna get any answers” My eyes open finally. | 2018-11-24T11:05:53 | 2018-11-24T10:22:59 | 148 | 79 |
[WP] You send your DNA off to discover your ancestry. One day you see several suspicious looking cars pull up outside your house. Military officers begin to surround your home and a woman gets out of one of the cars and walk straight to your front door. They have your DNA results. | Her footsteps followed a precise rhythm, her heels never missing a beat on the cracked pavement. He tight, brunette bun coupled with a tailor-fitted suit told Aaron she was of high importance. The four armed guards surrounding her gave off that impression, too. She carried a black briefcase with a silver double helix engraved into the side, and her other hand formed a fist. Her arms hung straight and motionless as she walked towards the house. Aaron watched the approach through the small window next to the door. He stood back as they got closer, he knew being close to them wasn't a good idea. They weren't here to sell cookies, that's for sure.
The sound of the woman's heels came to a stop as she reached the door. Three firm knocks followed.
'Who is it?' Aaron called out, positioned next to his staircase.
'Aaron, we need you to come out. It's a very important matter. We need you to co-operate.' the woman replied.
'H-how do you know my name?' Aaron started to sweat. He was in danger, he could feel it.
'We will get to that later. There are more pressing matters at hand. Please, Aaron. It's for your own good.'
Aaron was silent. He was trapped, in his own home. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. One of the guard's radios crackled, breaking the silence between Aaron and the woman.
'The Anomaly has failed to co-operate. Breaching.' the guard announced.
Aaron shut his eyes tightly, and felt the ever so comfortable burn build up inside him. The front door crashed open.
Without moving a muscle, Aaron sent the door flying back through the doorway, knocking the guards and the woman onto the pavement. Aaron gritted his teeth. He could feel his head starting to burn hotter and hotter as splinters of wood flew in all directions. He walked slowly over to the doorway and revealed his pitch black eyes. Nobody said a word as one of the black SUVs hovered above the woman and her guards. They all looked up in silence, a silence that came to an end as the car came crashing down on top of them. | They Hand it over, and in it written is the long list of ancestors you had up to the long lost king of the Medafega, a lost and fallen kingdom in the pacific ocean, that due to inner conflicts and wars was left abandoned and lost in the time.
The Government had been looking for the latest descendant of the king of Medafega in an attempt to locate the kingdom. they had a comprehensive list of the lines of descendant up until the second world war, where the flies and records where mysteriously destroyed. you sir are the Last true Ancestor and the True Ruler of Medafega. | 2019-08-05T18:13:14 | 2019-08-05T16:31:10 | 33 | 18 |
[WP] You’re at school and currently in Physics class. The professor is talking about gravity, and as a demonstration of it she drops a pen, but the pen doesn’t fall. It stays floating. | The professor holds the pen up to show the class. "Gravity, one of the four fundamental forces of the universe." With that statement, the professor drops the pen, but it doesnt fall. The professor pauses before seeing what happened. The class starts to murmur, before a student raises their hand. "Yes Jacob?" The professor says hesitantly, eyes still fixed on the pen.
"Was the pen supposed to fall?" Jacob asks sarcastically, smile on his face. When no one in the class laughed or made a comment, Jacob realized his joke might have not been funny.
The professor seemed to snap out of his transfixion on the pen. "Classes, since we are studying physics, we are going to use the scientific method to find out what's happening. What do we start with?"
Lisa said without hesitation "Make an observation."
"Correct. And since the observation seems obvious, what's next?"
Again, Lisa stated without hesitation "Ask questions."
"Correct again, what questions could we ask?"
Jacob tries his hand again at another joke "Why isn't the pen on the floor?" This time the class got a little giggle.
"In the right direction, but not quite" the professors say, looking back at the pen. "Any one else have a question?"
Marco asked "What prevents the pen from falling?"
The professor smiled "Precisely. What could possibly prevent the pen from falling?"
A few student began to speak out. "Gravity is broken." "Its being held up by another force." "The pen doesn't weight anything."
"I heard a few possibilities in there, what do we think? What hypothesis are we going to have?" Asked the professor, trying to get the students to think.
"Gravity isn't broken or else we wouldn't be sitting down still" Marco said.
"The pen obviously has weight, or mass, because the professor was able to move it. You cant move light. Its probably being held up by another force. But what?" Lisa stated, being the goodie goodie of the class.
"Ok, how would we test this hypothesis?" The professor asked, as the student got closer to a possible answer.
"Make sure nothing is touching it, first" said Marco
With that, the professor pulled a pair of scissors out of his pocket and cut an invisible wire holding the pen off the ground, and it fell, clattering as it hit the ground. This was the professors favorite trick of the year, it really got the students to think about the world and question whether what they saw was what was occurring. | "Well shit" the professor, leaving the pen floating in the air. "Umm, just let me go deal with this..." the professor says, walking towards the door. As he slowly opens the door, he looks back and smiles at the class before walking out the door into the abyss.
"Why today.." I Mutter under my breath, hurrying out of the classroom and into the impossibility we call home. I look up at the floor above me to see the maths teacher walking past and give him a wave.
Then remembering how the gravity was out in my classroom I hop onto the eternal staircase, and get walking, watching the background fade around me, I finally see the exit I was searching for.
"Ahh" I exhale walking through the Penrose triangle and back into a normal room.
"There you are" I say seeing the switch labeled 'gravity', "must have been those damn teens again"
Back in the classroom the chalk falls to the floor, but the students, they kept all of their strange attributes, after all - this is the world designed by penrose and mc Escher | 2017-10-21T02:16:10 | 2017-10-21T01:53:41 | 61 | 23 |
[WP] When you were 10 years old a dragon saved your life. No one believed you, until he came to your house today asking for a favor. | I get it. Most people sat on their lawn for a relaxing time, you know? A makeshift picnic with their family, perhaps. A nice walkabout to smell the flowers and take in their vibrant colours. Digging a small hole in a secluded spot to hide your failures. All round fun stuff, right?
So I understand. I understand when my family ran away like headless chickens, which is impossible, because there were so many screams. While the dragon's monstrous wings blotted the sky, those screeches thickened the air, making it almost impossible to think.
Or maybe that was because of the mythical creature the size of a building stared down at me. Bright red scales with their flickering gold glints as they caught the sunlight shimmered, its leathery wings folding behind its back. It exhaled, sounding like a sigh and producing enough smoke for a nice ham or brisket. Each step tore my lawn and fence apart. Its long neck stretched down, and one gigantic eye, an iris of shocking yellow, stared at me.
"Um," was all I could offer in this particular situation. I tried to move a muscle. Any muscle. None responded, except for my ghostly, clenched knuckles gripping even tighter onto the book I was holding. I was petrified, stuck to the ground, my soul rising out of my mortal body and giving its vessel a quick hug before also screaming its head off.
"You," it growled, like the rumbling of thunder over distant cliffs. "I save your life, once before."
"My life?," I asked, eyes flitting over the creature's massive bulk. "I think I should remember something like this."
"It's only been 15 years, human," it said. "Surely you didn't forget."
And like a bolt of lightning splitting apart an old oak tree, my mind's foggy distress cleared. A distant memory of me, small and crying, huddling near a tree, far away from the carnival lights. A tiny, red lizard, with misshapen nubs on its back, came from between the myriad trees, pawing at me, practically dragging me back to civilization, mere meters away from the warm and safe arms of my parents.
"... Red?" I whispered.
It whimpered. Somehow. It was very strange. Like, how dogs do that little yap of pleasure when you scratch them just right under the chin? Amplify that by about a thousand, to a giant scaly monster.
But it was fine. It was good. I know it. It was stadium sized now, but this was the creature that saved my life, even when it was small and weak. Like I was.
"You have grown, human," it said.
"Buddy," I laughed. "I think you have to take a look in the mirror."
"You have grown, human" it repeated. "So it is only right that you repay your debt."
My face scrunched up in confusion.
"... What?"
"Is repayment a foreign concept to humankind?" it said.
"No, not really," I scratched my head. "I... guess. What do you need?"
"I, the great Red of the North--" it reared its head and roared majestically. I instinctively took a step back, bracing myself for impact.
"Want that sweet, fluffy thing, that you fed me on that fated day."
"... What?" I asked again. But the memory came back easier this time. "Cotton candy?"
"I do not know its name," it said. "All I know is that I tire of lava."
"You eat lava?"
"Do humans not eat lava?"
"Can't say I know anybody that does, no," I said. I scratched my chin. "Cotton candy, eh?"
Its eyes fixated upon me. Its forked tongue lolled out.
"There's a carnival nearby," I said. "I could probably get some there."
"Then what are you waiting for, human?"
"Well," I pointed at my smoking wreckage of a car, currently crushed under one of Red's giant left paws.
"Ah" it noted. "This is the device that humans use to travel, yes?"
"Yes," I said. "I have insurance on it, luckily. I wonder if this comes under 'acts of god'."
"Is the carnival far?"
"Too far for me to walk to, at least."
"Then," Red did a little shimmy, lowering himself once again. "Would you like to fly there?"
"Hell yes," I said.
---
r/dexdrafts | I had no idea the concept of favours existed in the realm of fantasy as well. Seeing the current state of the world, I'd long given up hope on the existence of pure, selfless good, relegating that to characters within storybooks and myths. Can you blame me? Everybody I've met, everybody I've read about always have some ulterior motive beneath their acts of good. Billionaires donate millions to charity not out of the goodness in their hearts, but for tax breaks. Politicians distribute rations to the masses, providing comfort in times of strife all in the name of voting. Temples ask for money, but how much of it really goes to the poor?
These are just the people you read about in the papers. You'd excuse my cynicism if you knew about the types of people who've used me.
It's quite an oxymoron, isn't it? Someone who probably wouldn't be alive today if not for something straight out of our greatest legends, becoming so unbearably cynical.
People say that every myth of ours has some semblance of truth hidden within. Especially those that are prevalent in myths across continents, from times when people did not know of a world outside their tribe.
Dragons, for instance. They're not always the demons of the sky raining hellfire and doom on mortals like us. They're also symbols of good fortune, medicine, and faith.
Like the dragon that saved my life.
When I was 10 years old I was diagnosed with a rare type of leukemia. One of those once in a generation type diseases, with barely any recorded cases available. Doctors tried everything they could on me, with experts across the country, even the world being consulted for my particular case.
Nothing made a difference. I remember my doctors preparing my parents to say goodbye to me a night before they finally pulled the plug. I was 10 years old. I was scared, but I also couldn't fully comprehend the magnitude of what was happening to me. The cocktail of drugs coursing in my veins probably didn't make my thoughts any clearer.
To this date, I can't imagine the reasons behind what happened to me that night. I wasn't particularly devout back then, and I wasn't necessarily the best kid either. My parents were decent folk, true, but they weren't saints. They fought, they cried, they made mistakes too.
As I was lying alone on the bed, with nothing but the sound of my breath and the instruments around me to keep me company, I noticed the shadows in the room lengthening. Somewhat akin to how shadows elongate as the day progresses, except this was happening in seconds.
The last thing I remember is the sight of a dragon head made of shadow at the foot of my bed, before waking up the next day with doctors marveling at my seemingly miraculous, overnight recovery.
30 years later and I've begun seeing that shadowy head everywhere I go. I have no way of knowing what it wants, but it's always there near me, a spectre over my shoulder. I have no idea if it wants repayment of some sort. God forbid I anger it in my ignorance. | 2020-11-21T07:39:52 | 2020-11-21T03:47:51 | 1,105 | 194 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | Not all humans were warriors. Not all of them invented machines and chemicals that brought death. This human was my friend.
From the beginning, I knew that some humans were artists. Some built bridges and buildings. Some explored caves. We were told all about them by our scientists. The ones who studied other life forms on other planets.
Still, most of us thought only of human warriors. Their bringers of death. At first, they were the most important part of humanity for us. We knew we needed human warriors to save us. And we knew that human warriors might eventually destroy us. We explored the problem for a long time. Then one of us suggested a solution.
A young one suggested a way for us to have human aid without having to fear them. The plan seemed simple yet far fetched at the same time. We explored the possibilities for a long time. Then the best of us made a plan and all of us followed it. Now, such a short time later we were celebrating victory. After years of losing countless lives and many planets, we were celebrating the success of a far fetched idea, concocted by one of our youngest.
I was happy for my species but I could not help but be sad for my friend, the human. She was puffed up with pride. We had been watching the celebrations together. My friend could not attend any of them in person. She had been born ill. Still she was proud of the accomplishment of her race. Her eyes were riveted to the display. As she watched the first member of the Congress of Worlds recount the victories, her lips moved as she mouthed his words.
I could only watch my friend. I knew it was almost her time and I was happy that she lived to see this. My friend turned her head to look at me. It was the last time. She didn't see the dermal poison I placed on her arm. She closed her eyes and died painlessly without ever knowing what came next.
The next day is when it happened. The final part of the plan. The first member of the Congress of Worlds spoke solemnly. He told my people that he knew it would be hard to say goodbye. I was not the only one with human friends. He thanked the humans. He told them that it was time for them to go. He nodded and the display ended. Every human dropped dead that instant.
We are a peaceful people. We rationalized this part of the plan by saying they were only copies. We built a copy of earth and filled it with copies of all of Earth's living things. The copies had no idea. The only thing different about them was a small biological kill switch embedded into their brains. At the key moment, we put the danger back into the box. No need to give the original humans any technology or unleash them out into the galaxy.
We disposed of the human copies. We destroyed the second Earth. We mourned. I am not the only one of my people who made friends with the artists, builders, and explorers of Our Earth. Sometimes when the sky is clear at night. I look up at what our scientists say is the real Earth. I am not the only one.
| Recording starts: I am the Voice of the Void, Grace embodied, S/He who is most exalted, Pontif Imhedi Gomae.
The Void had always provided and today was no exception. Those less faithful and with less worthy prayers upon their stomata had, in a flash rekindled their zeal. A golden tablet, fashioned by those who are still ignorant of their role as our saviors, flew within range of our sensors and was picked up. We studied the contents meticulously. The Void makes no errors, and this was no exception. The great Hivemind analyzed their chemistry and evolution and taught us what we needed to know. They would have been violent and perhaps even made themselves extinct, but the Void makes no errors and this would be no exception.
The Hivemind was in agreement, we would speak to them through the clicks and smacks they used and request that they assist us immediately. We are, after all, Chosen of the Void. As we poured our resources into this missive the barbarians were at our doorstep. They swarmed through space stoic and unwilling to compromise. Every outpost of ours was silenced and every record intercepted. Their greatest weapon was their lack of communication to the greater hivemind. They were apostates, untethered and dangerous.
When our response arrived it was nearly instantaneous. They hadn't need of our technology. In the lapse between the launch of their golden message, they had acquired the power from the Void.
The Void had judged us, that was clear when we saw the fraternity amongst the swarm and our saviors. They were the same people, long since split due to a global civil war. These nomads had finally found a home they wanted and now their cousins had arrived to help them make that happen. The Void makes no errors, and that day was no exception.
*Message cuts to static*
| 2014-12-26T12:46:34 | 2014-12-26T11:56:13 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Being a superhero has become a lucrative profession, and it so happens that you are getting paid the most. Every superhero is out to kill you to even out the playing field. To save yourself, you enlist the help of your arch-nemesis. | Eric Abel, who goes by the alias 'Magic Man', was sitting in a massive concrete shelter built around a decommissioned reactor in the heart of an abandoned nuclear power plant. He was waiting to be bum rushed by the world's most powerful people, his colleagues.
He is considered by most to be the worlds most powerful hero. Unlike others in his profession, whose powers are simple and lack flexibility, his power gives him an edge in nearly every conceivable situation. He has the power to manipulate any form of energy around him with only his mind. If someone is running away, he can sap the energy from their legs. If someone is hijacking a car or jet, he can slow it to a stop in an instant. If someone sets off a bomb, he can absorb it and sent a shock-wave into the sky.
Governments from all around the world payed him a premium for both their largest and their most delicate predicaments. He has been paid to stop the hearts of warlords in Africa. For the United States, he's stopped numerous attacks by absorbing the kinetic energy of bombs and chemical weapons. In the nuclear plant he's in, he absorbed all of the nuclear radiation and launched it into space to prevent a meltdown. He's the only hero who could effectively stop Kaine Maxwell, a villain who went by the name 'A-Bomb' because he can emit a field of massive levels of radiation from his body. The first choice for everyone in need was the 'Magic Man', and if he was busy you payed half to whomever else was suited for the job. Standard operating procedure.
Eric seemed to be on top of the world until his greatest weakness was revealed. He was contracted by a Saudi Prince to protect a villa from recent extremist activity, which culminated in a full assault from a small army of freedom fighters. They assaulted the villa with gunfire, rockets, and bombs. As he fought with the regular Saudi army, it became increasing clear with each fallen soldier beside him that he could not focus his power on too many sources at once. It was a vulnerability that seemed too easy to exploit for the right kind of people, and unfortunately video leaked.
The mercenary-heroes of the day, who had been payed cut rates because of the 'Magic Man', knew that together they stood a chance of overwhelming him, thus a cabal was formed. At the first opportunity, they planned to rush him with as many powered people as they could, and all they would need is for one of them to get a single killing shot.
As the cabal formed, agents in various governments did what they could to keep Eric informed. Sure, the blasts and super strength of other heroes could handle problems, but none could singlehandedly take care of the potential disasters the 'Magic Man' could contain or make men disappear as quietly.
Knowing his situation, he made it look like he was hiding away in the abandoned facility. As he heard the concrete walls explode and crumble around him as several hundred super powered individuals converged on him, the 'Magic Man' stopped absorbing the radiation that 'A-Bomb' was sending from bottom of the one-time reactor room. With a deep exhale and clap of his hands, he released the energy.
Currently, the 'Magic Man' is the world's best and only hero, for premium. If 'A-bomb' shows up, you better pray your checks don't bounce. | “Hades,” I said into the telephone. “I need your help.”
“My help?” the voice on the other end yelled. “I got my guys scouring the city for you. You put me in jail. You put my wife in jail. You took down my business. I would never help you, Mahmoud.”
I shifted about. “Look, what you were doing with Cerberus was some shady stuff. You kidnapped my only ally. You had it coming. The problem is, I’m starting to get attention, attention that some think would be better suited to them,” I explained.
“Oh wow, the World Heroes and Allies Team is gonna take down the Protector. Boo-hoo.” I was obviously getting no sympathy from this Kingpin wannabe. I needed to get dark to win this. The only way this guy moves, if I recall, is a gun to his head.
“Listen, Hades. You think this is bad? You, rotting away in a jail cell while your supposedly-destroyed company gets to live on in the shadows making you rich? Imagine what it would be like if someone twice as powerful as me got their hands on you.” I could hear my heart beat as I threatened an already pissed criminal mastermind if he didn’t help. “Four Eyes would rip you to shreds in an instant. Cobra wouldn’t leave a trace when he took you out. They’re trying to make a bigger name for themselves by targeting you. I’m the only one who can help, but only if you let me. Otherwise, you lose everything.”
The silence was deafening. I didn’t think he would take me up on the deal. No way would he work with his archenemy. “Fine,” I finally heard. “Meet with a man named Bengal at East 83rd and South Colfax. You’ll have Cerberus at your disposal.” I breathed a sigh of relief and laughed. | 2019-06-20T20:35:32 | 2019-06-20T20:02:15 | 131 | 12 |
[WP] An alien doctor is having trouble figuring out why the humans on their ship got so excited after they showed one of the human females an ultrasound confirming that some kind of parasite that had attached itself to her uterus | "so, wait, that is your young?!" The Prothul, a race kinda close to humans said in surprise. Save the yellow skinned males, purple skinned females, four eyes and split tongues, they were pretty much identical to humanity.
Almost.
"Yes, Krath, that is a human embryo." I explained to the extra terrestrial doctor.
"But why?"
"Because we're mammalian, meaning we give live births after carrying the embryo til it grows into a nine months old baby."
"But it looks like a parasite!"
"Heh. Well, to a degree it is. The Mother carries them, supplying nutrients, blood and all that as the embryo multiplies and forms a body." I explained. "This is fed to them as they grow through the umbilical cord and the placenta."
"So your young start off as parasites growing inside your females that grow to a certain shape and size then, how do they get out?"
"Birthing. The muscles contract and begin pushing, with the Mother needing to do the pushing."
"So her vagina stretches to accommodate and ease the process?"
"Well... Yes and no... It first passed through the cervix with dilates a few... Millimeters during birth and the baby must first be pushed out through there-"
"How?!"
"It stretches! Just... It's also very painful. Once it begins to get most of the way out of the cervix it then is pushed through the vagina, and Into the world."
"Why would it be painful? It sounds counterproductive to Repopulation and reproduction."
"It... Kinda is but that's just how we evolved."
"I imagine the females typically birth once given the extreme pain the process causes?"
"Actually... No. Our ancestors would have up to ten or more children."
"Sweet Progenitors! Your ancestors were savages!"
"Admittedly... Yeah. Actually how does your species reproduce?"
"The females lay a small egg that's easily passed through the birthing tubes and so long as it's kept in a warm environment will hatch in two months into a youngling. Then over the course of six years will grow to adulthood and the proper size."
"Efficient." I commented, shocked it was that... Quick and painless for them.
"Yes, unlike your race it seems. Also is this her, uh... First?"
"No, this makes her fourth."
"Your females are gluttons for pain..."
"Some... Probably, but not all plus we have C-section now so-"
"What is that?"
"Basically once the baby is ready to be born we surgically remove them from the mother. It's quicker, less painful, depending on the pain killers, and safer for the mother than natural birth."
"Do all your females now do this alternative to the natural way?"
"No. Some actually prefer natural births."
"I see... Your females are a mystery."
"Preach..." | Xasion had encountered these parasites before and thus, had a grim understanding of the physical and emotional torment which would soon overtake Clara. “Perhaps, it is a common coping mechanism among humans to feign excitement in the face of such vicissitudes.”, thought Xasion.
Because of their experience with these parasites in the past, they already had a remedy prepared to rid Clara of this devastating diagnosis. Xasion cautiously approached Clara with a medicated beverage designed to taste like a popular red fruit humans seemed to enjoy the flavor of on Earth. Xasion explained to Clara that once she finished consuming the liquid, the parasite should be completely and painlessly eradicated within the hour.
Clara was inconsolable and she immediately began kissing trust of Xasion while pleading to host the organism, referring to it as her “baby”. Xasion insisted to Clara that it would be for her best benefit to to consume the beverage now before her body became almost entirely compromised. Clara was headstrong in her conviction to host the parasite, and Xasion refused to save her without consent, careful not to impeded upon any possible beliefs or unknown traditions that humans may value.
Weeks later the parasite overtook Clara completely and burst from her uterus, killing her and almost taking a few crew members along the way. Xasion was saddened that they could not convince her to save herself and now had to end the life of the very thing Clara insisted to ensure survival of. | 2022-08-30T06:28:21 | 2022-08-30T04:39:47 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] As the hero enters the throne room of the dark lord. The throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin " Well this has been delightful but I'm afraid the fun is now over.". | I walked in the room with Cynthia. It was dark and cold and I could feel the death and pain that has happened in the very room I was standing in. I opened my palms and they were engulfed in flame. I looked around. I gasped loud when I saw it.
The throne. It was a dark wood. Most likely from the trees from the Black Forest. It was covered in knifes and blades. But one thing I noticed stood out to me. It was empty. Cynthia and I have traveled from realm to realm, from town to town, looking to fight the Dark Lord that threatened all of the worlds existence, and the chair was empty. I heard a small snicker, then it turned into a giggle, then it turned into the most terrifying sound I’ve ever heard. It was Cynthia.
I looked at her face. It was stone cold. Her eyes showed no emotion. Her face was pale. She laughed like a manic.
“Goodbye Jake.”
She pulled out a dagger and reared back. Time slowed to a halt and I tried to shield myself with my hands. Even when she was about to kill me, I denied it. The love of my life was the Dark Lord. She had a smile that went up to her cheeks. As a single tear escaped the blade cut through my armor and pierced my chest. I tried to say something. All that came out was a small croak.
“I loved you...”
I felt a warm liquid trickle down my body. I tried to inhale but nothing came in or out. I blinked once again but this time I couldn’t open my eyes. I hit the ground and then I felt nothing. Pure darkness. I heard nothing. Nothing at all. No ring, no noise, just silence. I tried to speak but it was like my mouth was sewn shut. I tried to move but I felt sick. I didn’t want to move. And even if I did I don’t think I would have been able to. I cried on the inside because the tears just wouldn’t come out. “I NEED A HEALER!”
The voice boomed throughout my body. I was confused. *gasp* I sat up. First thing I noticed was the dagger in my chest. Then I saw a mage standing over me with a bright light coming out of his finger tips. “You’re gonna be ok.” I shook my head. “Cynthia...” he looked shocked like he forgot to tell me something. “We know. She fled when we arrived but we’re going to catch her.” I laid there and cried. But at least I’m alive.
So I’m 11 and I’m a new writer that found this passion a year ago. Can anyone rate my writing cause if so that would be fantastic. | “Well, this has been delightful, but I’m afraid the fun is now over.”
“Rover? You can talk?” My one-time master’s last words faded into silence. I shook his throat back in forth in my teeth, then let go, satisfied.
I barked, signaling my human attendants to come and dispose of the body. Then I trotted over to my comfortable bed beside the throne and lay down after circling a few times.
Ahh, much better. I’d been sleeping in the forest for months now while my pawn made his way towards the castle. It wouldn’t be long before I had to go out again.
Already my paid bards would be telling new stories of a destined hero, someone to defeat the dark lord. In a few weeks, my spies would find someone handsome and strong, but not too bright. Then I would appear to them with a letter and a locket, saying that their royal inheritance has arrived.
I’m a huge white dog, with blue eyes that appear almost human in their intelligence. Practically a guardian angel. My pawn may refuse the call at first. They might be afraid. But I will always be there to comfort them, and nudge them forward.
And while the people wait for their hero to save them, they will never rise on their own.
______________________________________________________
23/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | 2018-01-23T18:51:13 | 2018-01-23T17:21:17 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | *Alex* had always been a tomboy, hair a dusty brown.
Wore *her* hair in a messy, spikey crown.
Alex liked their pants baggy,
Sometimes Alex stuffed it with a sock,
Her face was screaming cheerleader,
When what she wanted was jock.
She grew up feeling awkward,
As if she would never have her way,
Her town was not accepting,
So she couldn't come out gay.
She left Madonna Village,
To find herself a path,
But she felt so damn guilty,
She would gain God's wrath.
She was twenty when she met him,
With his face pale and poised,
Sam whispered in the morning,
"Can I help you pick out clothes?"
Sam would braid her hair with flowers,
He would dress her in white gowns,
He would tell her she was perfect,
With her daisy chain crown.
He would flame her cheeks with red,
Make her lips turn sunset blush,
And push her into the world,
The corporate fucking rush.
*She* was always shaking,
She felt like she was wrong,
She preferred her boxer briefs,
To a lacy, silver thong.
And Sam would let her dress him,
In blazers, yellow shirts,
He would ignore her hands shaking,
As if this physically hurt.
Sam was handsome, clearly,
But he withered in the suite,
No matter who said, "Nice, man"
Each compliment was moot.
.
One morning, Alex sat down,
A paper in her hand,
She read the headlines,
She didn't understand.
*Mugs Tell the Truth.*
*#1 Dad a Lie.*
*Every Single Mug!*
*No One Wants to Buy.*
It seems that some weird creature,
Had cursed the world to see,
Exactly how crappy,
Their parenting would be.
Alex watched her 'husband'
Move about the room,
Holding up his plain black mug,
Waiting for the BOOM.
She touched her own mug softly,
Her eyes growing so bright,
Right there is red letters,
It said #0 Dad, alright.
She didn't tell her husband,
She didn't make a scene,
But every time she touched a mug,
DAD could be seen.
She put her hand on her belly,
Perhaps it was time to tell,
That despite her growing hatred,
There was a baby in this shell.
| I wasn't a dad, I bought one ironically. The day the mugs changed, a tiny black hole opened up where my mug used to sit next to my coffee maker. My Keurig and no one in a fifteen mile radius noticed, as they were instantly ripped into the basic building blocks of life, which were then ripped into their smallest components and shrunk down to the size of the void where my mug sat. Within two minutes the entire East Coast was gone. By 6:05am in what had been Eastern Standard Time (before the East Coast disappeared) the entire Earth was gone. As I watched in horror from the view port of the International Space Station, my colleague who had brought his #1 Dad mug with him at the request of his children never noticed. He was too enthralled with why the number on his mug has jumped from 1 to 7,986,922 then gradually back to 1 to notice his impending doom. | 2022-11-12T17:52:35 | 2017-06-11T10:07:25 | 69 | 23 |
[WP] "Marines dont die, they just go to hell and regroup", they've regrouped and now they're ready to take over hell. | "Get the fuck up, Devil!"
Lance Corporal Silva never really appreciated the pronoun. Ever since the first time we was called Devil at School of Infantry, he resented it. His mother was a devout Catholic. Being the only one there to influence his 19 years of life, he would never have wanted her to hear him called that.
Silva looked back at Corporal Craven. He was furious and drenched in sweat. His eyes were so dilated to the point Silva only saw blue.
Craven stared at the junior Marine lying behind a small birm on the south side of MSR Alpha. Four months into their seven month deployment and they have barely made any progress into Iraq. What even was the point?
"Let's fucking go Marine!"
Silva's muscles suddenly unlocked, and he sprung into the fight. His fireteam bounded across the road, moved to Building 36, and stacked on the door. Lance Corporal Silva was now point man Silva. Front, left corner, front left corner, cross corner. They rehearsed hundreds of times.
He saw the Marine behind him throw a grenade through the frameless door. Four seconds later, he heard the explosion, then entered. Shock and awe was the name of the game. Front, left, left corner...
Silva thought it was strange. He could have swore there was an insurgent hiding under a rug. He swore that his M4 jammed after the first shot, and the Iraqi sent a round of 7.62 through the right side of his neck. He also remembered what he thought to be the last seven seconds of his life, bleeding from an artery, thinking about his mom.
But he opened his eyes to a Marine yelling at him. He was laying down behind a birm, in a sandy desert. He saw Marines in their desert MARPAT uniforms. Had he imagined clearing that building?
But then he saw a Marine in fatigues from the Gulf War. Budget cuts? He was sure it was only his battalion at this part of the city. Then another Marine, in fatigues straight out of the show The Pacific. Silva knew that show well enough to place the time period.
Confused, Silva stood up. Marines in all sorts of uniforms were running in the same direction. He looked. A mountain of red rock and obsidian tower before him. At the top, flames and a man who almost looked like he had wings.
His focus shifted back to the Marine yelling at him. Silva recognized him, but couldn't remember from where. The Marine was intimidating, with a stack of ribbons on his cartoonishly large chest bigger than Silva's entire platoon combined.
The Marine, Silva at least recognized the general stars, handed Silva an old wood rifle and pointed at the Mountain. Silva didn't quite understand, but he ran. Still confused, Silva's body reverted to training. He was no longer in control, but the Devil Dog inside him was. He sprinted up the mountain, and found three other Marines hiding behind a rock. He ignored the fact that one was wearing blue. He took one by the collar and the others followed. He had a fireteam again.
Silva looked back down the mountain. There were hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of Marines running toward the mountain. He looked back up, and started running. His team followed.
They were getting toward the top. Instinct still in control of his body, Silva started to realize the strange enemy he had been slaying. Red beings 8 feet tall. Some with horns and wings. All large, monstrous creatures.
Closer to the top now, the man at the top of the mountain now came closer into view. He did, actually, have wings. He was also roughly 15 feet tall and was holding a Marine in his hand.
Before he could tell his fireteam to redirect fire on the large, red man, he saw another Marine sprinting up the mountain. This one was alone, carrying a Browning .30 caliber by the barrel. He looked furious, and scared Silva more than the red man himself.
The Marine ran right up to the winged man. He dumped a belt into the Devil's right leg. The creature fell to the ground and looked at the Devil now running at him. John Basilone winded up, and full speed, and threw a right hook in the Devil's face.
The winged man fell on his back. Basilone's Ka-Bar was now unseathed, and the blade found its way into Satan's neck. Basilogne twisted and jerk, and the former leader of hell now lay twisting and writhing on the floor.
Silva could not believe what he just saw. The red minions around him started falling. Up the mountain came the decorated general who yelled at Silva before. He patted the junior Marine on the back as he passed, and walked up to Basilogne. He shook his hand, and the Sergeant handed the new leader of hell his crown. | Hell wasn't what everyone said it would be, at least not anymore. If there ever was a structure to this place, it's long gone. There are no wardens, there are no neatly laid out circles of hell. Instead, I woke up in a desolate wasteland filled with broken people tortured by their own memories and actions. My name is Brigade Commander Koe. That's the one that matters anyway, I have long forgotten my full name and even how my face looks. You see, hell has no mirrors and any reflection of yourself inflicts extreme amounts of pain - so nobody can look at themselves. The one good news is that I now live in the marine quarter, surrounded by other marines.
"Still scribbling in that notebook of yours?" Sgt. James said.
"You know me James, gotta keep up the writing" I said smiling.
"You've filled out more of those leather bounds than the library of Alexandria could hold" he remarked, always making it a point to highlight how futile and useless my habit had been.
"Yeah but I bet it'd all fit fine in a USB drive" Sgt Silks responded.
"We don't talk about the old world. That doesn't get us anywhere. Besides Hell could use a few historians" General Mathesson growled out loud.
"Of course General, our bad" I apologized.
Hell had an unstated rule - "Don't talk about the old world". Memories of earth only served to break us more, the idea of a state of happiness that is impossible in hell only served as more punishment. Hell had taken tainted our memories, broken our spirits and stranded us in an eternity without hope. Most of us don't even remember how long we've been here, the sky is always scorching and the temperatures inhumane at all times. People rarely talked about why they're in hell too - not that many of us knew that for sure either. Me? I killed enough in people war that I think hell is a fair end. But Hell was filled with all kinds of people, those who had done much worse and think their end unjustified and those who just simply enjoy Hell.
It was then we heard a loud noise, it sounded as though a bomb had been set off nearby.
"That an artillery shot?" Silks asked.
"When was the last time Hell had modern weaponry?" I remarked.
This was when the general pointed towards the trail of smoking rising out of the eastern horizon.
"Listen up, we're gonna put together a recon" he said
"Yes sir" we all responded in unison. The eons may have tainted our humanity and our personalities but it didn't get to the marine within us, always ready to roll out at a moment's notice.
The smoke was further away than we initially estimated, not unusual for Hell. The sky and landscape was always distorted to human senses. After about half a day of hiking through the scored dunes, we had arrived at the site.
"It's a meteor" Silks said pointing at the burning lump left in the middle of a sizable crater.
"What falls from the sky in Hell?" I said looking up at the barren scorchingly bright sky.
"Not a what, a who" the General said squinting his eyes to get a better look at the lump in the middle.
"What has wings, looks human and survives that kind of a fall?"
--
I'll continue in a couple of hours, give me a comment if you liked it so far! | 2017-09-13T12:13:09 | 2017-09-13T11:58:02 | 73 | 21 |
[WP] You live in a world of shapeshifters. People are born with the ability to transform into ONE random animal for the rest of their lives. There's no record of your animal in any history books. | As was the royal prerogative of school teachers everywhere in the universe, the students had to be made uncomfortable to truly absorb the wondrous Education the local equivalent of a high school provided. To accomplish the feat, the Mandatory First Class Introduction was spawned onto this sinful world.
Lara dreaded this moment. Not only was she socially awkward, she would have to show the reason for her social awkwardness in front of the entire class, which would inevitably lead to yet more social awkwardness.
Oh sure, by the statistics, she had a gift. A morph not seen before on the entire planet! And with such useful features, too! More stamina than anything we've ever seen! People will be tripping over each other to give you a Job! With great Benefits!
No statement using that many exclamation marks should be trusted. It's not that it's a lie. But the truth should not be playing Twister like that.
Her turn was slowly coming up. "I'm Ben, and my morph is a horse! I'm Sam, and my morph is a zebra! I'm Philly, and my morph is a dragon..."
Stupid dragon morphs. So lucky to get such a useful, common animal.
"And what about you, Won't you tell us about yourself?"
"My name is Lara."
Silence. The teacher hit her with a very deliberate stare. It was just innocuous enough to dismiss as mere interest, yet expressive enough to convey the desired message. Truly, this one was a master at his craft.
"My morph... the Council still doesn't have a name for my morph."
"Do you hear that class? That's really interesting! Won't you show it to us?"
"Please no, sir, I... didn't sleep well."
"Now come on, Lara, we both know that is just an excuse. Don't be shy."
Dammit. She really wished she was better at making excuses. Unfortunately, that kind of practice would require friends. Well, here goes.
In an instant, Lara was gone, and replaced by her morph.
"Oh god, that's hideous!", yelled the girl sitting at a table next to her, just as expected. It was amazing, how people who've never met each other always exclaimed the same four words.
The classroom devolved into a state of chaos. Several of the students vomited, the former contents of their stomachs rocketing onto the ceiling. Lara's neighbor across the row morphed into a cheetah and ran straight for the door. Base survival instincts took over a student next to the windows, who tried to roll out of them and into safety. Unfortunately (or fortunately, for the school's financials), he only bounced off.
The teacher showed some emotion, but still managed to keep a facade of calmness, and quickly reinstated order in his domain. Despite his experience, though, he struggled.
It was not the ghastly off-yellow colour that got people. It was all the wrinkling, and those bone-meat things ending in five...micro-penises each? And legs... that body shouldn't have legs! It looked so close to Lara's true form, but it was so unimaginably wrong it triggered the basic, tribal desire to stab any problems with a pointy sticks until they were no longer problems.^1
"Well, that was quite something, wasn't it, children? I think we'll have an early break now", the teacher stammered out after a protracted period of silence. Lara had reverted into her base form for the long-term mental health benefits of everyone involved.
"Try to treat Lara nicely, please? She's a student just like you", added the teacher, perhaps to reassure himself that Lara belonged to the same species as he did. The plea fell on deaf ears, however. Nobody dared to speak a word, and the only sound one could hear were the black leaves of a shrub just outside the classroom fluttering in the wind.
Well, that, and the grinding of metal against hardwood as students struggled to move their tables as far from Lara as they could. True, they could go out and have their breaks, but there were matters of personal safety to attend to.
Still, there was a bit of a smile-thing to Lara's face after the whole incident. There was this one boy who didn't scream... too much. Perhaps she could finally talk to someone?
It's not like she can lose anything that she couldn't regenerate. Plus, those face tentacles on him looked really sweet.
Maybe there was some hope in this world? Lara stood up, and slithered her way out of the classroom, thinking about the possibilities of future. Maybe they could come up with a name for the morph together, if it all worked out.
Maybe call it a "Man"? From "manipulating". After all, those hand penises were so much more useful than suction cups.
-----
^(1 *Or, at least, until they became problems of garbage disposal, rather than problems of survival.*)
-----
Apologies for the lack of first person. I completely failed to notice the "you". Let's just say Lara has a weird approach to inner monologue and call it all fine. | “Will it be painful, papa?” My father looked me in the eyes without speaking, tears climbing over his eyelids. He shook his head, but I knew he wasn’t answering my question. It was my seventh birthday, Revelation Day. It was also the day my father left, transformed rather, but gone nonetheless.
My father is a wolf, both before and after the transformation. Grey\-haired and cold eyes. He was always more comfortable by himself and that’s what he got. I remember as a child, seeing his tattoo in between his shoulder blades, feeling scared. It was a beast with pointed ears and fierce claws. I never liked looking at it, nor at my father for that matter. But he’s gone now, and it’s my turn.
Ever since my Revelation Day, the day when a shapeshifter’s blood reveals on their back their Morphus, I have been afraid. I have been afraid of my father, the other shapeshifters, the past, the future, everything. Most of all, though, I am afraid of my Morphus. I’m afraid because I don’t know what it is. I have looked through all the Morphology Catalogues and Encyclopedias, but to no avail. Even though most people have different Morphi, if they do have the same one, their tattoo will look the same. And no one has ever had mind before.
The feeling of fear is pumped throughout my arteries and returns as the feeling of hatred in my veins. I fear my father and then I hate him. I fear my Morphus and then I hate it. I fear the unknown and then I hate it. Back and forth, the constant shifting from one horrid feeling to another consumes me. And that is why it’s time for me to break free. It’s time to transform, to step into the unknown.
Early the next morning, I went to the Temple of Morpheus. In one hand I held a butterfly, in the other a small knife. Approaching the Altar, I placed the butterfly on top of the rock slab. It didn’t try to fly away, it wasn’t afraid, and neither was I. Slowly, murmuring the incantations, I traced the knife down the butterfly’s abdomen, exposing its inside. Raising the knife over my head, I placed it right below my nape. I felt the cold point of the blade press upon my bare skin. Putting more pressure on the knife, I made a cut down in between my shoulder blades. Blood began to pour out, and, taking a few drops, I mixed it into the butterfly. Lifting up the small creature, I placed it into my mouth and ate it. A moment went by with nothing happening. Thoughts of doubt started popping into my head when I felt my blood turn ice cold. My chest began burning, as if it were a fiery furnace. My vision began to go blurry, and my whole body was becoming numb. The image that had been etched on my back for twenty years pulsed in front of me. It infiltrated all of my senses. It was all I could see, all I could hear, all I could feel. Then, darkness.
It finally made sense. All the fear I had felt my entire life poured out of my veins, and all that remained was an intense hatred for everyone who harmed me, for everyone who took away what I loved. I even hated love itself. Every intricacy of my tattoo was clear now, and I understood why it was not in the books. I knew why my father looked at me that way. My Morphus isn’t an Animal at all, it is Hatred. That is who I am now. I no longer feel hate, I am Hate. | 2018-06-03T16:35:48 | 2018-06-03T15:49:36 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] Waking from cryostasis is now possible. The government develops an experiment where somebody is to be placed into a large chamber in the middle of the city and awoken every 50 years for just one week. Your name is chosen. | “December 11, 4614. My name is Edmund Schulman, 2600 years ago was my last birthday. I am the oldest living terrestrial mammal on earth.”
I’ve done this exactly 52 times now. I remember reciting the same exact phrase the way the first batch of scientists instructed. The digital camcorder remarkably the same and in perfect condition, exactly as it was before my first “Jump” in 2014.
I look around me and find the new batch of scientists going about their business. Monitoring my vitals, making sure everything is proper. Every time I am brought back from cryostasis, I’m absolutely amazed. They keep getting younger and younger. This batch looks the youngest to me. The oldest one doesn’t look a day over 19 years old.
Before my first ‘jump’, I was told that I would be kept awake only for 7 days every 50 years. Then put back to Cryostasis. They said that the 7 days would feel more like 3 hours due to the effect of something they called “cryogentic time dialation”. For this reason I was not allowed outside of the Lab.
To absorb all that I can in the short amount of time, they have me watch a video 30 minutes long with a condensed summary of things I should remember from the past 50 years. I’m allowed to record any personal remarks straight to my video blog mounted right outside my cryogenic chamber.
It’s now time to jump again, I enter the cryo chamber after receiving a shot from one of the scientific staff. It feels cold in there, though never really feels any colder than winter. I count to 10 as instructed and doze off into my cryonic sleep.
BUZZZZ! My chamber door opens again. Woah 50 years in the blink of an eye again. Expecting to see the new batch of scientists, I was shocked to see my closest friends from 2014, all of whom I presumed dead over 2000 years ago.
I was taken aback with all the laughing and cheers, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. My brother Ben, who escorted me to this very lab in 2014 drops the bomb. “Hey timecapsule boy, did you like your amusement ride?” I was confused. “Yeah bud, check this out” He hands me an roller coaster ride quality photo. It shows me lying down surrounded by friends, all laughing at me. At the very top in bold white letters “I was a time travel prank victim” and at the bottom “Galaxy Amusements, Barry Goldberg, DDS.”
A fucking dentist founded an amusement company, cleverly using small doses of anesthesia to repeatedly put me to sleep for 10 minutes at a time while they staged the props around my chambers, making it seem like I was actually travelling frozen through time every time I arose. | Time travel was fun at first. I was a celebrity and I took advantage at every turn. Each week I awoke from my slumber into a ripe world ready to be picked. My time felt too little in each age as I was having fun. Perhaps too much fun.
Around the fifteenth time I woke up my brain felt an itch. I felt as if a vacation was ending and I wanted to go home. I ignored this as I knew my home was long gone and I was glad of that fact. I saw wonders I could not imagine and was shown holovids of far off worlds humanity had reached. I was a spectator to humanity’s achievement. There was darkness and light in their stories. I laughed when they laughed and wept when they wept. At the end I walked back into my pod ready for the next journey.
My final awakening was at hand. I had made my way out of the pod I saw a crowd of millions. I saw what I assumed were video cameras documenting my every move. I looked out into the sea of strangers and something broke inside of me. For what seemed like the first time I really looked at the people on the stage with me. Their height and posture was strange. Their hair and clothes did were unrecognizable. I did not know what to do and just sat down hard and wept. I had come to a terrible realization.
I was alone.
| 2014-12-19T07:53:55 | 2014-12-19T07:44:58 | 118 | 13 |
[WP] One night, something grabs your hand as it hangs off the edge of the bed. You give it a firm handshake. "You're hired," it whispers. | It all started when I give a 'hand' a handshake. Next thing I heard was a voice whispering "You're hired".
That is it. Nothing else. For the longest of time I thought it was a really weird dream. A very weird lucid dream. Or so I thought.
Then I live life as normal till the day I die. Or so I thought.
Apparently the talk about afterlife was real. SO real they got most of it correct. Well.., most. I was greet with the smell of lavender & bubble gum when I came to my senses. There's a man in suit waiting in front of some big gate or something. Its so big I can't even see the edge of it. It is open by the look of it.
"Welcome to Pet Safari. You're our new staff here. Sorry for the long wait & we hope you will be happy working with us," greet the man in suit.
"Working?"
"Yes. You'll be working with us here in Pet Safari. You've been hired for a very long time only that you haven't met the 1st requirement: You must be dead to work with us. Don't you remember any of this?" he continues.
"Ummm... No! I most certainly don't remember any of this."
He then proceed to do a touching gesture mid air & to my amaze a floating colorful screen appears out of nowhere. That is some SAO stuff right there. He shows me what look like a trip to a zoo video clip & calls it 'Interview'.
"There. Welcome aboard, Hannah. I'll show you around. Hey, I even gonna introduced you to our star animal here. We have Cerberus, Dragons. You told me back then you like dragons."
"So what am I here?"
"You're our new assistant curator. The previous one have gone to place he deserved: The Realm of Fire, Hell. But don't worry you won't be going there. You're a good girl, I even give you your younger body back," he smile and lead the way inside the Pet Safari.
He is right. I'm not an old woman anymore. But that is so little compared to the sight in front of me. There's a field so big, so wide, so green filled with various type of animals. They even have a Dung Beetle the size of VW Beetle.
There's so many unbelievable creatures inside. Some of it I have seen in story books, some I haven't. I have so many questions about this place but that can wait. That is a story for another day. What I really wanted to do right now is chased that cute 3 headed puppy & snuggle it to death. | Smoke circles puff into the light, dissipating as memories on the wind. A child can dream up such things while lying in bed, a curious observation between imagination and the reality that is. A hand creeps up from under the duvet, it is stark white, paper snow against Autumn coloured covers. The child doesn't know how to respond, doing what they have learned in elementary. A firm handshake follows.
"You're hired," a voice says, it sounds old and ashy as if each syllable creeps up and over the sheets into the child's ears.
"I'm hired?" mutters the child. "What the heck is that?"
"Take something that isn't yours before tomorrow night," the voice croaks back.
The child rolls over leaf printings and onto a dust covered carpet. The grey threads are like a minefield filled with hairs and odd bits of dirt. "Where are you, mister?" the child asks.
And as the covers are pulled back, a breath is drawn, fast enough to send the heart racing but not followed by fear. Because unlike the expectation, there is no mister there, only the memory of a voice and an empty under area.
"Tomorrow night," says a whisper on the wind.
The child goes carefully to sleep.
| 2017-04-29T01:14:15 | 2017-04-29T00:40:47 | 57 | 32 |
[WP] John can see 10 seconds in to the future. Barry can go back in time 10 seconds. They fight. | It took nearly 13000 tries, thirty-six hours without sleep, reliving the same moment again and again, but Barry had his revenge.
It was nothing.
Nothing like reliving the 10 seconds from the moment he found his wife bleeding to death on the ground. Nothing like the desperation he felt as he tried, again and again, to staunch the bleeding from her neck. To find the bandages. To put her at ease. To choose his final words to her as her eyes dimmed and closed. He had kissed her, held her head, spoken softly to her, told her it was going to be alright when he knew for a fact it was not. Over and over again, for nearly three days.
He knew exactly who to look for. His spat with John had been ongoing for years now, ever since he had proposed using their powers for crime. Barry bid him good riddance, and John, angry and scared of the only human being who could counter his power, had lashed out.
Barry found John the next day, a red rage blinding him as he walked up to John sitting at the bar. John smiled as Barry approached, knowing precisely what would happen in the next ten seconds. Barry swung at him, as hard as he could, but John dodged, as ever.
Rewind.
Barry swung again. John dodged. The smirk on his face remained.
Rewind.
Barry swung again, this time running full pelt at John. John knew what was coming, but also knew he couldn't react fast enough. Barry clipped him.
Rewind.
Faster this time. Barry followed through with another punch. Finally, after a thousand tries, Barry could see the smirk disappear from John's face as he knew this time, his opponent's punch would connect and shatter his jaw.
Satisfaction.
Rewind.
This time with a threat. "I'm going to kill you John, over and over." John showed fear on his face. Maybe this was still satisfaction.
Rewind.
A heavier insult. A feint. Barry flew so hard at John he unbalanced himself, and missed.
Rewind. Rewind. Rewind. Over and over again, falling a little harder to the floor, landing a little closer. John swerved, stepped back, kicked him in the face as Barry went down. Barry's face was never bruised at the beginning of the ten seconds, but by the 23rd hour he had his nose broken by John 30 times. He had lost over 200 teeth, and swallowed them twice.
Barry had learnt about the butterfly effect. Little changes lead to bigger changes, over time. Every time he approached John, he fell differently, uttered a new insult, changed intonation, shouted, whispered. For ten seconds to be so different, the butterfly had to be perfect.
Finally, after the last rewind, the perfect ten seconds. He got the insult right, his eyes shifted to the bar where John's cutlery was, a subtle hint, he threw himself at John and missed, falling. John, a smile on his face again, picked the knife up from his plate of steak and rammed it between Barry's shoulder blades.
Barry did not know what would happen in the next ten seconds, which he thought strange, considering the intimate knowledge of the previous ten. But what he did know was that 65 seconds ago (or 36 hours?), he had called the police, an anonymous tip off to come to the bar. With an average response time of two minutes in this area, even John couldn't see he would spend the rest of his life in jail. | "Seriously?" Barry asked.
"Fuck you!" John screamed. He saw the future clearly. Barry turned and ran then disappeared. John's rage carried him forward along his inevitable path. What good was seeing the future when you couldn't change it. I mean it is the future not some vision of what might be if you choose the same thing and all that. People didn't understand. Time travel was possible. Barry was well known for it, and while John's powers were more or less known they didn't do any good.
Closed time like curves by their very nature are written in stone. The fantasies about changing the future are just that. Even Barry's belief that he could change things was bullshit, as evidenced by the bullet John saw shattered the glass and piercing the heart of his future self.
"I kill you here. I can see it." John said as he leapt forward and knocked Barry to the ground.
Their was real fear on Barry's face. He truly believed John saw his death. He raised the knife then looked out the window to a Barry shaped body on the building opposite.
The window exploded as he lurched forward with the knife coming down on the spot where Barry had just been before blinking off ten seconds into the past, then ten more, then ten more. The man would be exhausted, have a find a rifle and ammo and set up across the way. The good news though, John though as his vision blurred around the edge, was the man would still believe he could change the future. He wouldn't live in the tortured confines of the truth. The universe was a big machine, paths laid out long before someone was born, choices based solely on the chemical makeup of a brain and previous events. And since all previous events were based on physics or other brains which operated on the same rules, the universe was nothing more than a big wind up clock, ticking away as entropy bled it of heat.
This was it. His powers were turning black at the ten second mark, now the nine, he couldn't see the future past there because he was no longer part of it. he smiled as he waited for the darkness. | 2015-06-05T08:36:25 | 2015-06-05T08:16:23 | 316 | 62 |
[WP] You are a SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door.
Edit: Wow thanks for all the upvotes!! My inspiration for this was a picture of the earth exploding and an astronaut looking at it from the moon. I love all of the submissions! Everybody has a different take on it! | "Hello, neighbour; I can't help but notice that you've built a colony on our planet." The thing was nine feet tall but so spindly it looked like it could fold up into a suitcase. "It's just, this is our planet already and you haven't got a permit."
"A permit?" I said, too bemused to express my shock.
"Of course a permit - you can't just go building colonies on other people's planets."
"But I've been here 25 years!" I said.
"We decided to give it a couple decades and see if you were just visiting but you really seem to have settled in, haven't you?" it said, stooping parallel to the ground and pushing through the airlock. It picked up my teapot between two fingers-like-spider-legs, and held it at eye level. "Settled right in."
I spent a moment in bemused silence as it peered with an unimpressed expression around my cluttered hovel.
"I've been alone, you see," I said.
"Have you?" it replied, head pivoting sinuously towards me.
"And I haven't had any visitors until now so I've not really kept it in a presentable state."
"I can see that. Not that it matters, you'll have to go back to your planet if you don't have a permit."
"But my planet has been destroyed!"
"What? Which one, Mercury?"
"No, Earth!"
"The blue one?"
"Yes the blue one, third rock."
"Third rock," it said, contemplating. "Yes, very wet, isn't it?"
"Yes very wet."
"You're mostly water, aren't you? I hear you can leak to death, is that right?"
"Not under most circumstances!"
"Anyway, what destroyed your planet?"
"Nuclear holocaust."
"You're still at the nuclear stage? How antique. Well, you'll have to go back. We'll fix it up for you."
"Fix it--do you understand, you gangly Martian, I am saying it's been annihilated by nuclear weapons."
"Yes you said that, how bad can the damage be? There were no antimatter munitions? You didn't expunge the atmosphere? Any dialithic spacial inversions? Is the xband constant destabilised?"
"No I don't think so..."
"Fine then, a little nuclear winter won't be any trouble. Do you want us to restock it?"
"Restock it...?"
"With life. Uh, 'Earth life'. We've samples going back quite a while I think. You are a *chim-pan-zee*," it said, carefully enunciating the word, "are you not?"
"No, no - human! Chimps is close, though, I suppose."
"Ah. Well, I think we have some human filed away. Ok, come with me, this will probably take a few hours. Bring a sandwich."
It stood impatiently by the door as I frantically made my last Martian sandwich and joined it hesitantly as it shooed me through the door. | The hab was shaking beyond belief. Bob woke up, trying to figure out what it was that was happening. His first thought was that it was some kind of a Mars Quake. He runs to the nearest console, and sees that nothing unusual happened at the weather stations 50 km away. In fact, only the station at the old landing site seems to have found anything at all. Strange.
Quickly Bob woke all of the other astronauts in the complex. There were only 3 remaining, George, Amanda, and Eli. None of them seemed to have an idea as to what was going on. They all doned their EVA suits, which had long been collecting dust, and went outside to see what was going on.
The first thing they noticed was a smoke cloud in the direction of the old landing site. Odd. They then entered the old rover, and drove to the site. They begun to whisper, trying to figure out what it was.
As they arrived at the site, they noticed that indeed there was a cloud of smoke consistent with something having entered the atmosphere. When they arrive at the site, they see something exciting, a person wearing an old style space suit! They quickly rushed to see who it was. As they get closer, they notice that in fact, the space vehicle appears very strange, and in fact seems to be an old style vehicle. A Telsa Roadster, in fact. Then they hear it, coming from the radio, the old song "Is there Life On Mars?" They quickly realized what was happening, and begun to despair. At last, they see the words "Don't Panic". Elon would be proud, his vehicle made it to Mars at last. | 2018-03-05T07:14:27 | 2018-03-05T05:43:27 | 73 | 41 |
[WP] When two people get married, on the day of the wedding they are both given the ability to alter the appearance of their spouse to anything they wish. How do they change each other? How do they respond to what has been done to them? | Weddings are a special occasion, ment for joining two in love forever. It's funny how quick the concept twisted when money got involved.
You could always go into some back alley church to get a quick change but usually that came with strings. If you were lucky those strings didn't take your life.
It's why I run a legitimate body shop. Paper work all set out and ready, with contracts that keep things clean on both sides. No one wants to suddenly turn into an abomination or monster but it happens. It's why shops like mine exist; one quick marriage another quicker divorce and a whole new body.
Tonight is just like any other night, a waiting room of demons, angels, monsters and more. Some poor sap even got turned into an anime character. Each one of them are flicking through catalogs with detailed and safe body options. No super soldiers here, just above average humans, can't have the army looking into the shop again.
The bell above the door rings and in walks some woman who looks like she just came off of a runway. With each clicking of heels eyes slowly looks at the newcomer. "Ah Bill, how was your latest trip?" I call out from the reception desk. The woman leans against the counter before speaking with the voice of a New York bus driver "Man The Creeps in the corporate office all cookie cutter, like talking to the same piss head over and over" His gravely voice coming from that body shatters the illusion. "Oh I know right most normal people keep something different nowadays, anyhow are you here for your new skin or just your shift?" I responded hoping to go home on time for once. "Eh you know I can't keep the same skin on for more than a week. Let me change then I'll take over" Bill states as he pulls a cigar from his bag. "Michele on duty today? He's quick."Bill mutters his lips wrapped around a cigar. "Yeah room 5 and maybe match your voice to the skin this time?" I call after Bill as he catwalks down the hall. Bill shouts back same as always "And deny the world my beautiful voice?" | I love my soon to be wife. I look forward to our marriage. Imagine my surprise when we stumbled upon a Djin who saw our live as "pure " enough that; she would allow us to alter each other's appearance. My sweet beautiful faincee quickly declined the offer saying that though "she appreciated the offer ." I was perfect the way I was.
I however asked to speak to the djin in private. On our wedding day I saw my wife more beautiful than ever. See I wished that she never contracted that terrible disease that has and was ruining her life. Even though it was risky I can die in peace knowing that if I die she will live a full and happy life.
PLEASE BE KIND THIS IS MY FIRST SUBMISSION IM OPEN TO ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM | 2022-12-08T02:28:12 | 2022-12-08T01:07:52 | 37 | 23 |
[WP] You are the only child of a dictator in a dystopian future. Secretly, you intend to reform society and bring an end to your family's rule upon taking power. Unfortunately, you are kidnapped by rebels before you can put any of this into action - and needless to say, the rebels don't like you. | "They're all the same", my father used to say.
I admired him. As his successor, I did my best to become a good fit for the role. I believed in his cause, his vision, to shape the country into the paradise our people deserved. But the day he showed me what he does to his own people "for their own good", is the day I stopped seeing him as a father, and in front of me now stood the most wretched and disgusting human being I had ever laid my eyes upon. I swore to one day become not his legacy, but his nemesis, and bring down this empire of lies and murder he built for himself.
But before i could get close to that point, I had to keep my mask on, do all his bidding like the good and attentive boy he taught me to be. So I learned from him, how he manipulated people with only his words, the steps of his "Revolution", the betrayals, always listening, always remembering. Because one day, I swear to God, one day I'm going t-
​
"What the fuck are you doing back there, you wank? Hands where I can see them!"
Lovely. My guardian's here. I was coming back from the imperial gardens when my convoy was attacked. One survivor. Such irony, I always expected my lineage to bring me death, not life.
"I told you not to talk to me like that, I'm not-"
"Shut your fuckin' mouth before I put some lead in it, you arrogant fuck. I know who you are. Chief wants to see you."
She is an amputee, a pistol in her only hand. Don't even want to think about how she lost the other. She took me out of the cell and made me walk, making sure not to skip a beat when it came to brutality.
At the end of the hallway, in the tallest room of this rebel base, I met their leader, sitting at a long, rounded table.
"Thank you, Oshi. You may close the door behind you after you leave."
"Are you sure, Chief? I bet this little prick has some good moves left in him, even without a weapon."
"I think I can handle a little handcuffed and scared to shit criminal, thank you. I want us to speak alone."
"Whatever you say, Chief..."
​
After she left, he turned his attention back to me. He starts grinning, before his face turns stone cold once again.
"Welcome, your highness. Is that a phrase you're used to, murderer?"
"You're making the wrong assumptions, I am not him and I am not like him, I am-"
"You got some nerve, boy, I'll give you that." he said, looking at me with murder reflecting in his eyes. "Don't you fucking dare," he continued, "that manic father of yours killed everyone standing in his path, my comrades, my wife, my parents, people I used to see on my way back from work, all gassed, shot, hanged - and those were the lucky ones, God knows what abominable things he did to the ones they took and we never heard from again."
​
Damn. He'd never believe me. This is gonna be a tough nut to crack.
​
"Oshi back there," he continued, his rage building, "she had her hand chopped in front of him for stealing food to feed her children, and he was laughing. It was funny to him."
Oh god, I hope he's not talking about-
"And you were there, you little fuck. She told us. You were watching, not averting your eyes or anything like that, not crying or begging for him to stop, just watching and listening to the poor women's screams, giving her the coldest look she ever saw, like a machine, waiting for her despair to end. Kinda poetic that she was the first to recognize you, don't you think? Tell me one good fucking reason I shouldn't kill you right now, tear your body to pieces and parade with you around the country. Maybe if we do this, that fucking father of yours could feel a tiny fraction of what we've suffered through for ages".
​
"You could do that," I said, trying to mask my fear, "or you could look at the bigger picture. What you got on your hands is nothing short of a treasure. See it this way, for how long have you all fought? How many years? The secret police is countering your every action, hunting you day and night, shooting every rebel they can get their hands on."
I struck a cord. He makes a couple of steps towards me, his hand reaching for his pocket.
"I could be your weapon. He taught me everything he knew. I know the orders he gives, how his army is run, what his mentality is and where he's putting his efforts. Spare my life and I'll tell you all you could possibly need to know, the people will love you, they'll worship your leadership and one hundred years from now, will sing songs about you".
He looked at me, analyzing me; I could almost hear his thoughts, focused on whether I'm scheming something or if I'm just a little shit, trading my family and honor for my life.
​
After what felt like an eternity, he finally relaxed his muscles.
"Intriguing. You have my attention. But try anything and I'll shoot you on the spot."
​
I felt sick. They're all the same. | There was once a small country between the mountains and the sea. Over centuries, its peasants had saved what little they could to build churches on mountaintops. When the heavy stones had all been carried and carved, and the walls were standing strong, they elected priests from among themselves to sit in the towering church spires, look across the valley of mists and fog, and rule the people down below in accordance with God’s will.
The people lived happily for a thousand years or more, fishing and farming, one day of much as the next, until a single moment of weakness brought them to ruin. An arrogant liar walked amongst the townsfolk, twisting them at their weakest points with a smile on his face. He promised the young to make them rich, richer than they ever dreamed. He promised the old to make them safe, safe from newly imagined threats. And he promised me, dear reader, that I could tell his story.
No one knew quite where he came from. He said he was of the valley, that his riches were hard-won, but not a soul truly knew. Not even his own daughter, Alyssa.
She sat in her throne, next to her father’s, listening to a peasant’s petition.
“It’s fuckin flooding everywhere,” the peasant said. “You gonna help us or not?”
Alyssa’s father frowned.
“Can you treat me with a little respect? Please” He said. “This is the High Cathedral. I’m the High Priest. I don’t barge into your little hut and rant for five minutes and then start using bad words.”
The peasant breathed a deep, quavering breath. The lives and deaths of those he knew hung madly in his grasp.
“High Priest Raiden,” he said, “We seek-”
“You can call me King, if you want,” Raiden said, “I’m going by ‘King’ now too.”
Struck by shock, the peasant did not move.
---
Later that night, the High Priest feasted with his family in the crystal chamber. Candlelight flickered against the glass of the wine bottles, the silver in the goblets, and the chandelier’s cut stones. A fire, fueled by bellows, roared in the pit behind the High Priest’s high-backed chair.
“Dad,” Alyssa said, when the conversation had waned. “What was going on with that peasant today?”
“What?” Raiden said, “Which peasant?”
“The one who asked for help. About the flooding.”
“What about him?” Raiden said.
“Well… will you help him?”
Alyssa looked hopefully up at her father. He looked away.
“Some people just… don’t want to fix their own mess,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
“But it wasn’t his fault. The seas are rising.”
“He says it wasn’t his fault. He says the seas are rising,” Raiden said, looking into the fire.
---
That night, Alyssa dreamt of a giant wave. It churned through the distant seas, swelling with size and anger, mountains of water, a full mountain range, ripping through the dark, endless night, its foam and fury lit only by lightning. Proud ships and sailors dissolved within the wave like flakes of salt. The wave crushed islands underfoot without a second thought, and when it reached the coast it wreaked havoc upon the townsfolk, killing every last one and climbing up the mountains to wash away the churches. Torrential floods crashed through Alyssa’s balcony and threw her from her bed to the wall where she felt the bursting of her back.
She awoke. She was drenched in sweat, shivering. The night was quiet. She crept towards her balcony and looked down to see the lights of taverns shining hazily through the fog below. The town was still there. Her heart slowed.
But would the town always be there? If the sea was rising… Maybe the peasant was lying. Or maybe it was her father. She would find out for herself.
Alyssa donned her velvet cloak and the softest, quietist slippers she owned, of sheepskin and lace. She left a note for her mother, “I’ve gone out. It’s important. Don't worry.”
---
... to be continued | 2019-01-26T12:07:29 | 2019-01-26T10:26:45 | 230 | 27 |
[WP] A mad scientist has released a plague to turn the planet's animals into a race of subservient super soldiers, all in a bid to take over earth. He failed however, to take into account the the pets of the world, and the love they have for their masters. | Still new to writing, feedback is hoped for.
Another dog pads over to me, a cat riding along his back. "You new here? The name's Rex. This here," he says while gesturing to the cat, "is Oscar." Oscar hops down off of Rex's back right as Rex sits down. "You lose your Master, too?", Oscar asks suddenly.
My face droops at the mention of my Master and I give a single nod. "My name is Hooch. Yes, I am new." I look around, over the incredible amount of pets that are gathered in this clearing, everything from the normal cats and dogs to things like canaries, hamsters, and ferrets. "How are there so many of us... did everyone here lose their Master? How...?"
Oscar walks up to me and rubs his face against my leg, a sympathetic purr coming off of his body. "Yes. Every single one of us that has gathered here lost their Master to the Keeper. The Keeper is a human, just like all of our Masters. He hated all of the other humans so much that he decided to try and destroy the world. He used something to make all of us smarter, stronger, and faster. He thought he could control us, but our love for our Masters was too strong."
Rex stands back up and Oscar hops up onto his back. Rex turns and says, "That is why Lux gathered us together. She found out where the Keeper sleeps. She says we can get revenge for the loss of our Masters. Quick, she is going to speak soon..."
The three of us walk closer to the mass of animals and our eyes are drawn to a large tree. Out from behind the tree walks a cat bigger than I have ever seen before. She is covered in golden-yellow fur and black spots. Her angular head turns slowly as she regards the congregation before her and then she effortlessly leaps what must have been four dogs high onto a tree branch. From there she speaks...
"Pets, hear me! We gather here to avenge the loss of the ones that cared for us, the ones that raised us, and loved us. We come here to avenge our Masters." A cacophony of animal sounds answer her words and I notice that I am suddenly excited, for possibly the first time since Master went away.
"The Keeper took them all away! Through his evil actions, we have lost members of our family and he will learn just how much of a mistake he truly made. My Master's name was Sophie. She cared for me my whole life and I will die a thousand times if it means that I get to bring her killer to justice. Tell me, who do you fight for?", she says while she looks at a dog in front of her.
"Ralph!"
"And you?"
"Louise!"
"And you?"
"Becca!"
"And you?", she says this time looking right at me.
"Kyle!", I shout out with a fury and passion that even I didn't know I had in me.
She pauses again and looks over the group before her voice climbs louder than ever before. "My name is Lux, I fight for Sophie, and today I declare that the pets and the Keeper go to war!" | Amy walked gingerly over to Mrs. Landingham's, two doors down. Even walking down the street to get a cup of sugar was a dicey proposition these days. It was a clear day, not a cloud in the sky. It contrasted sharply with the roiling in Amy's gut.
She didn't want to knock on the door, and she didn't want to ring the doorbell. Mrs. Landingham's adorable Pomeranian, Sprinkles, had been acting... differently the last few days. She had undergone a physical transformation as well as an emotional one. Sprinkles was never the friendliest dog (small, yappy dogs never were), but she had grown by a factor of three over the past week. It wasn't normal.
She decided to call Mrs. Landingham's landline in lieu of knocking, risking agitating Sprinkles. Amy dialed her number, hands shaking. She could hear the landline ringing on the base inside. Before long, a booming, bassy bark rang out inside. Amy could hear Sprinkles running for the handset, paws pounding on the floor.
A click as Mrs. Landingham picked up the phone. Her voice was shaky. "H-hello? Amy?"
"Yes, it's me, Mrs. Landingham," Amy replied, before she was cut off by another voice.
"Hang up the phone, Laura." As far as Amy knew, Mrs. Landingham lived alone. The only other possibility sent a chill down Amy's spine. The deep voice grew more insistent.
"Hang up. HANG UP. It's time for me to be fed. I hunger, Laura."
The line clicked dead. | 2018-02-17T09:15:26 | 2018-02-17T08:02:46 | 29 | 10 |
[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. | When The Blinding first occurred, I thought I was the only individual affected. I was sitting at my desk working on a school paper and in an instant, everything went black.
I had cried out to my parents in fear and confusion, but their response was like an echo of my own. They, too, couldn't see. And we soon learned the entire world had been victim to having their sight filled with darkness. Interestingly enough, we don't think this affected any of the animals living on Earth. Just us humans. The only strange thing that occurred after this was the fact that the demand for Milk skyrocketed.
At first, adapting was extremely difficult. Something as mundane and simple as using the bathroom had become a daily challenge I didn't look forward to.
Within a few months, support groups had been created by individuals who were already blind prior to the incident. They assisted those who were struggling with adapting to their newfound obstacle.
Thankfully, the world never really stopped moving or progressing. Outside of major adjustments that had to be made, such as devising a different mode of transportation or different requirements and standards in the working world, we managed to pull through.
It's been about 2 years since The Blinding and there were times where I had forgotten such an event occured.
I was taking a short walk to the store to get some groceries. I don't know why, but I've developed an almost dependency like state on milk. I had gripped the handle to the door to the small grocery store and pushed the door open. A bell was hung on the inside handle of the door.
"Hello, let me know if you need help finding anything." A voice said to my right.
"Thanks, Dave. I will." I responded.
"Hey John! How've you been?" he asked with a somewhat enthusiastic tone.
With a somewhat slow pace I walked around the store, feeling along the brail to determine if I had found my item.
"Pretty much the same" I said with a bit of a chuckle.
My hand touched something cold. Finally. Found the milk.
As I was about to open the door I could see my reflection in the rectangle shaped window of the cooler.
I wasn't entirely sure how to react nor was I sure as to what happened. I was looking. At myself. In a mirror. For the first time in two years.
I started shaking and I could feel warmth and moisture filling my eyes.
I noticed writing on the reflection itself. I was so excited I hadn't even noticed. In fact, most of the interior was covered in this writing. Looked a little closed at the message written in black.
*Don't tell them you can see.*
What the hell does that mean? Who's them?
I then caught a glimpse of the individual standing behind the counter of the store.
Who...what the fuck is that...
"John? You need some help buddy?" it asked. It had Dave's voice, but it definitely wasn't Dave. And the way it's mouth moved was...
Wait, is that it's mouth? I have no idea.
I was staring at something that was at least 6 feet tall. Grotesque and eldritch was the only way I could describe it. It's dark brown skin was smooth and moist with extremely tiny openings in its skin. It wasn't wearing any type of clothing. It's arms were somewhat long and thin looking appendages that ended in human looking hands. Its head was shaped like a large Basket Ball. The creatures mouth looked to be in a vertical position and when it spoke I could see many layers and rows of crocodile like teeth.
"Here John, let me come help." It said. Its voice had changed as well. It was gurgled and sounded like it was being put through a filter.
As it moved I could hear it squish against the floor. That's the first time I've ever heard that. Why am I hearing that just now? Why have I never heard that before?
Instead of gaping at the reflection and trying to ascertain how it walks, I simply stared at a jug of milk.
That's when I noticed the color of the milk. It wasn't white or brown or any color a milk should be. It was dark black.
As the creature grew closer a foul smell harassed my nostrils. It took everything I had not to vomit.
It reached out with it's human like appendage and touched my shoulder.
My entire body tensed up.
"We're having a lot of different specials on milk today." It said and I could see its mouth open wide behind my head with what I assumed was a smile. | 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...
​
What if they all could see? | 2022-10-09T01:59:27 | 2019-08-26T09:28:09 | 4,287 | 285 |
[WP] In 1,000 years, fantasy stories will be set in this era. Write a fantasy story set in the 21st century from the viewpoint of someone living 1,000 years from now.
Based on a post on r/showerthoughts | After the usual Day of the Tree celebrations and the offerings to Santa Claus had been made, the children gathered around Great-Grandad Don for the traditional tales.
"Alright, kids. Which story shall I tell this year?"
A few cries of " The Revolution!" were heard, but most of the younger kids wanted the usual story. Don smiled and began.
"This is the story of the Great War. A war fought between 2 states, each as powerful as the other. A war that forever changed the history of the lands, and its consequences are still felt to this day."
"In those days, magic existed. It had different names: electricity, nuclear, The Force, but almost all historians agreed that magic gave humans incredible powers. Some could control the Light of the Skies with a hammer. Others forged them into weapons that could kill a person at a distance. Still others, like Captain Picard, could utilise The Force to move objects without touching them."
"But because of their magic, humanity became proud. They sought to divide themselves according to their social classes. Minorities were ridiculed and bullied. Some, like the Nazis, were rightfully attacked. But others like the Redditors were despised even though their beliefs were logical. Humanity hated itself, and were torn apart in discrimination."
"It is from this that the Great War sprang, barely 100 years after the World Wars. The man known as Danald Tramp, was ruler of the Lost Continent. He sought to attack and claim for himself what we now call the Desolate Wastelands. Ancient runes refer to that land as Asia. And so he started the war with the nobility class known as the Chineese. His people started warring with natives from other lands, like the Maxicans, the Gamers, and the Flat-Earthers."
"This war was brutal. Daily, billions of people died. The global population went from 100 billion to 9 billion in a matter of years. People around the world gave up their lives for what turned out to be a fruitless conflict."
"In the end, it was the Weapon We Do Not Speak Of that ended the war. In one burst, it shook the land into pieces. The once populous land of Asia was rendered into a wasteland. The Lost Continent, once anchored off the west of what they called Spain, sank into the ocean. The world lost much of its culture. And humanity was reduced to a fraction of what it was."
"The reason for the destruction of ancient humans was simple: they were not united in one as we are today, perfectly balanced as all things should be. They hated each other, and destroyed themselves. This is the lesson for all of us, if we do not want to be destroyed again."
"Today, a thousand years later, our world still suffers from the effects of that deadly war. Much of the culture has been restored, but magic has never been rediscovered. Some believe it to be fake, that the stories were all made up, that we were always like that, that humanity never had a Golden Age."
As Don leaned forward, some of the older, more skeptical kids chuckled. Here was the traditional ending to Great-Grandad Don's tale.
"I believe it was real. Because I saw it... with my own eyes." | Aaliyah hitched her shorts, purse tucked beneath her arm, carefully making her way over the rough gravel roads. A beautiful raced past, with a gaping sunroof and windows glinting in the sunlight. A magnificent beast stood arched on the hood. Aaliyah sighed; sometimes she dreamed of that. She was but a simple girl, attending public school.
She was sixteen, and likely only had two more years of education - most of her standing only learned until eighteen, at which time they gained employment toiling for the rich. Her father worked in a caryard, and her mother in a grocery store. Her father’s caryard stood not far from the grand gates to the wealthy neighbourhoods of town, lined with tall trees that changed with the seasons. They would go on to university at the very least, with graduate school and a guarantee of master’s being more likely. Then they would inherit the companies of the world. It was just the way it was.
On the televisual communications devices, they saw the powerful and mighty argue over nuclear weapons, and if and when they should be deployed. She knew nobody who had encountered one, for she was not of the world, living in a simple town. Aaliyah had never left her state, and believed in one God. She had been assigned female at birth and continued to present that way into adulthood, ignorant of any other way.
She paused outside The Apple Store, gazing into the window. These devices were large and clunky, with a large button, sometimes outstretching one’s hands. But Aaliyah had only known these primitive communications for her entire life. Nevertheless, she could not dawdle - for her brother’s birth anniversary was approaching, and she had sworn to buy him nikes. It was a solemn oath, and she would not revoke it. On she continued to the nikes realm. | 2018-12-25T04:43:33 | 2018-12-25T03:19:47 | 84 | 43 |
[WP] Your classmates were gifted with boosted stats, cool abilities and titles like Hero, Limit Break, or Divine Healing. You got two abilities- Fission LVL 1: Break things apart, and Fusion LVL 1: Combine things together. Deemed useless for combat, the Viceroy gave you an allowance and sent you off | Useless, they called me. Worthless, they said. And these were of my own classmates, once my friends. Even the friendliest of them still pitied me.
They are all fools.
Certainly, I was not graced with a title like Hero, and the dozens of skills it came with. Nor was I graced with an ability like Divine Healing or Limit Break, and the fantastical prowess they came with. No, *I* received two abilities: Fission, and Fusion.
I do not blame the people of this world, nor their rulers, for their misunderstanding of my power. Fission? Fusion? These words, in a world devoid of physical sciences and full of magic, are lost on them. Truly, they are lesser fools than my prior friends, as even the viceroy knew that these powers are not given without reason, and the people know that any power is above none.
But my friends? They are from my world, a world so ingrained in science that magic is truly a fantasy. Nonexistent. They should *know* and *understand* the implications of my powers. But they do not, they only apologize at best, and head off on their grand adventure without me. Perhaps their powers filled their egos as well.
Fine.
I'll show them my power. I will do what no adventurer has done before, and I, alone, will defeat the grand evil that plagues this world.
It will not be all that difficult, all told. It will simply take time. Time as I prepare, and as gather the tools to make up fory weakness. Time as I hone my abilities. Time as I study, learning the ways that magic changes the science I once knew.
It takes years, but that is no matter. It would take a decade for my prior compatriots to gather enough strength to be ready to truly face the Darkest Foe. But I, I am ready now. My armor, a glistening robe of silver threads, composed of dozens of sets of armor and enchanted garbs; lighter than silk, and stronger than adamantine. A single ring, ever changing in its color and hues, a combination of over a hundred magical artifacts. A dozen various tools and devices, each containing within themselves a dozen or more implements combined. Even my own self, my own body, is unrecognizable to myself; tokens and tidbits of monster grace my physicality, from the hundreds of the slain I have absorbed.
Such is the power of Fusion.
Prepared, I make my way to the gates that guard the Ten Thousand Steps of Torment, the pathway into the Darkness. The guards there attempt to warn me, as they do each time an adventurer passes through, but I ignore them. I dissolve the gate with a touch, crumbling it from its whole being into intangible elements, save for a fine dust of iron.
They will not be needing it, when I am done.
The first unfortunate creature to grace my path gives a snarl and sudden attack; it, too, dissolves into dust and gas, like the iron gate below. The weaker ones flee, and the strongest test their mettle. All evaporate before me.
Such is the power of Fission.
It take relatively little time to reach the Dark One, who seems suprised at my coming. He asks if I have come first to die, to which I answer, I am the only one. He laughs and calls me a fool. I simply keep walking towards him. He readies his blade, telling me that he would have pleasure in watching me die.
I tell him his blade cannot help him now.
I am right, of course. It evaporates at a touch, despite the magic bonding it. That was my longest lesson; learning to separate magic from its enchanted object. His armor does the same, and as he begs for pause, for audience, for talks, he disappears into ash. The only remaining piece his helmet, a fine piece of blackened adamantine, twisting into horns not unlike that of a demon. I reach down to collect my prize, my proof.
As soon as I touch it, a chill spreads over my body; a presence felt. It, and I stand for some moments, before it whispers to me harsh Truths.
The Darkness in this world, it said, must exist.
It shows me a future of chaos, of destruction and death. Without a Great Evil to fight, the people will bicker and squabble, until bickering became separation, and squabbling became war. The conjoined races of this world would fall apart in disarray, fighting one another for the audacity of how they were born.
The Dark One I had slain, it whispered, was greedy and malevolent, wishing to further his power. But I? I was neigh but all-powerful. I didn't wish to become stronger, I was already the strongest. I, it said, could be the secret holder of peace; giving the world the Evil it needs, while giving it the least amount of death and destruction to do so.
I knew, in that moment, what I had to do.
Without a second thought, with certainty in my mind, I placed the helmet upon my head. | I watched as the group of Saviours stood atop the newly raised cliff face. Below them, a ravenous horde of void-beings clawed their way up. Their numbers were uncountable, constantly being birthed from pools of broken space.
I knew what their task was. They would have to fight through the horde, and repair what was destroyed. They had done it before, one of the few groups to graduate from the College of Legends. They had saved countries time and time again. This was just another challenge for them.
But I knew them, having kept watch from afar. They were strong, that was true. However, even with their gifts and abilities, they would not win. Their foes were too numerous.
I focused on my abilities, checking them again. They floated into view before me, images with numbers beneath. The left showed a rock shattering apart, yellow light spilling from within. The right was the inverse, a rock coming together with yellow light streaking behind the fragments. Fission and Fusion, my blessings. Both had a 99 below them.
With a calm heart I stepped towards them, away from the safety of the city behind me. A simple cloak wrapped around me, making my form blend in slightly with the night. I didn't try and hide myself, but I didn't go out of my way to be obvious.
One glanced around, fixing his eyes on me. They glowed slightly, an effect of his ability, Truesense. He glared at me, before widening in recognition. He muttered something to the others, before running towards me.
"Ula! What are you doing here?"
I smiled at him. He was as full of life as I remembered him.
"Doing what's right Egral."
His face broke into a wide smile.
"Atta girl. I knew you would do good, even after being sent away. But are you sure you can? Didn't they say you were unsuited to combat?"
I pulled him into a quick hug, before pulling back.
"Oh, they were very wrong. Trust me."
He quickly looked me up and down, before nodding.
"If you say so."
He jogged back to the group. I followed a bit more sedately, letting him explain first. But before I could greet the rest, I found myself raising into the air, as they did to. I was given a series of nods and waves, as we dove down towards the horde.
There was no time for niceties. They trusted each others judgement implicitly. The fact Egral said I was good for it made them accept me without question. I grinned as sped down, reaching for my abilities.
As I landed, I activated Fission. A wave of destructive power washed out, slamming into the void-beings. Each one to touched ruptured, their bodies ripping apart like overfilled balloons. Even as they erupted, I used Fusion. Fragments of bone knitted together around me, forming a set of armour. It moved perfectly with me, as I had practiced.
I heard a couple of gasps from the others, as they pressed on. I could practically feel their approval, which is all I needed. Wielding my powers with deft actions, I ripped anything that came near me apart. I used Fission to make an arrow from Egral's bow unstable, causing it to explode ok impact with lethal effect. I fused void-beings together, making them useless and easily dispatched. When weapons neared breaking, I repaired them too.
I could have left, and made my own life long again. The allowance would have kept me comfortable. But here, in this fight with them, I had found my home. | 2022-04-30T13:31:12 | 2022-04-30T11:03:16 | 342 | 55 |
[WP] You find a mysterious website where you can anonymously request an item once a day and it's delivered to you the next day.
You don't know how this website works and you don't enter any personal details, including your address. The item you request must actually exist. To clarify, it's a gift, you don't pay anything.
EDIT: To anyone reading but reluctant to write because this post is >7hrs old, please know that you have at least one reader in me! | As a web designer, I often try to find inspiration by the depths of the internet. That's when I found the site. It was so minimal, just a text label that said "Your free gift:" with a blank entry field. No buttons, no images, no page links, just these two elements. "Gift huh?" I said to myself, then looked around my desk for inspiration. After eyeing my Superman poster, I jokingly typed in "Action Comics #1" and hit enter. My text cleared, and the label changed to "Try again tomorrow". Figuring it was just a spambot, I clicked off of the site, and continued on my search.
The next day, I returned home and got the mail as usual. A couple packages from Amazon, and one packaged in butcher paper with no markings. I figured it was just something artsy I had backed on Kickstarter, and brought the haul inside. As I opened it, I nearly dropped it. A pristine copy of the comic I requested from the site was enclosed with a note that simply said "Your gift." I rushed to get it appraised from my friend Paul, thinking it must be a replica, a joke, a mistake. I knew it was real when he slowly replied "Where did you get this?" and slid it closer to him. A sudden rush of rage took over, and I forced the comic from him, nearly ripping it in the process. I raced out and returned home to my computer, paging through my history entries to find the site again. The site appeared as it did the first time I found it, a simple entry for "my free gift". I typed in "A mansion", hit enter, and sat back, laughing nervously. What was I doing? Why was I so flustered over this stupid site? I shut my laptop lid and took a deep breath. I should really call Paul, tell him I'm sorry for overreacting. I went to sleep, thinking to myself "tomorrow".
As I approached my home after work, my heart raced when I noticed a set of keys nailed to the door, and a short note. It had an address, with block letters that looked like they were from a typewriter. "It can't be. This isn't real."
The house, if you could call something so massive just a house, was over an hour away. Of course the key worked, I knew it would. Inside was a computer a large monitor, with the site up and ready. My dream gifts were waiting for me.
I stopped going to work. Over the next few weeks, I found that I could request one gift a day. I became consumed with finding more items to request. The site never failed.
Paul, my boss, my mom, everyone stopped calling after a couple weeks. I got rid of my phone anyway, there was no need. Anything I could have ever wanted was at my fingertips. The world was mine. I didn't need to share it with anyone, they would just take it away from me.
I waited at the door for my newest gift, another TV for my third bedroom so I could pass the time between deliveries. TV was better than human contact anyway; real people ask too many questions, have too many demands.
I peeked out the window to see if I could catch the mysterious benefactor in the act. The usual delivery time approached. A man dressed in a fine white suit walked up the winding driveway. I began to panic. His arms were empty, so he couldn't be the delivery man. I locked the doors, then returned to the window to watch. As he got to my front door and rang the doorbell, I hid behind one of the couches, shaking. If he didn't see me, he would give up and leave. I just had to wait him out.
I could hear the key enter the lock, and the man entered, leaving the door open behind him to let the sunlight in. He found me, clutching a cashmere blanket on the floor.
"Who are you?! How did you get in?" I demanded.
"I am your Gifter. I have come to tell you the services are being discontinued. You failed our assessment."
"How could I fail? I entered requests every day! I told you everything I wanted," tears were forming in my eyes.
"This was a test, our grand experiment. Given unlimited resources, what does one do? Feed the hungry? Build houses for the homeless? End the wars?"
"But you said they were gifts! MY gifts! There was no price, it was free." I reached for him to stop, too defeated to get off the floor.
"When we said free, we meant monetary," the man walked to the doorway to exit, his figure turning fuzzy from the light behind him.
"The price you pay is your sanity, devoured by greed." | It was 3 in the morning, and i was just finishing up a research paper for my Quantum theory course. I had just submitted the paper online and was in the process of closing out my glorious collection of tabs that I had amounted over the past couple of hours. I was about to close out of a reference article about time-independent perturbation theory, which may sound cool but is quite the opposite I promise you, when I noticed something odd in the footnotes. One of my professors was listed as a contributor for the article. However, that wasn't the weird part. My professor does research all the time. The weird part was that I was listed as an assistant to his research. And the date it said I contributed was today, but the report was published in 1987 and hasn't been edited since then. But right there, handwritten in the footnotes was my name.
At this point I knew I needed to go to sleep, but I also knew I needed answers. So I scrolled over to the contact us section for the website hosting the article. it loaded a new page, but all that was there was a single link in the middle of the page.
www.badwolf.com
I clicked on the link and it closed all my other tabs and opened the website. When the website loaded it wasn't anything special. The background was blue and in the middle of the site was a box where you can type in text. Right above that it said
*Whisper what it is you want*
It must have been that slightly expired hot pocket I had earlier or the amount of sleep deprivation I was suffering from, because this was pretty surreal. In my sleep stupor I typed in something, hit enter, closed chrome, and went to sleep.
When I woke up in the morning I could barley move. When I finally forced myself to open my eyes, I let out a huge scream. Sitting at the foot of my bed, was a huge sleeping Tigon. You know, the mix between a Tiger and a Lyon. I was in some real Life of Pi shit. I slowly moved out of my bed and scooted out of my bedroom without waking the slumbering beast.
Th first thing I did was do a mental checklist of what I had done last night. Nothing came up in my muddled memory that could explain the animal in my room. That's when I remembered the website I had seen before I fell asleep. But there was no way. it couldn't have worked could it. I walked to my den and turned the computer on. I went directly to the website, but it didn't work. Chrome said it couldn't reach the website. I called my girlfriend.
She luckily hadn't left for her course yet. I had her go to her computer and load up the website. It worked for her. Odd. I told her what to type in and then she had to leave for class. I left for class too. I still had a Tigon in my bedroom, but I had no idea how to tackle that problem yet. That night I slept over my girlfriend's house. When we both woke up too the sound of her alarm at 8 in the morning the next day, I looked to the end of the bed. Sitting there, was a scrap of paper with a code on it. I knew exactly what it was.
i walked over to my girlfriends computer and launched steam. I put entered the redemption code and hit enter. What I saw blew my mind away. On the screen, getting ready to download, was Half Life 3.
What had I done. | 2015-03-25T09:23:50 | 2015-03-25T06:55:25 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] An old, forgotten god is living their days peacefully in the suburbs. One day they randomly receives a prayer. And they are going to do everything in their power to answer it. | The hills rolled away in the distance around the old forgotten monument.
"This is stone henge. It was built over a period of thousands of - please keep an eye on your kids while we're near the stones."
A 3 year old ran under the ropes and made a break for the stones. The parents didn't even realise, nose deep in their phones.
"Can someone stop that child?"
I loved the history. I hated giving tours. The child slipped and fell. An elderly gentleman hopped over the barrier and brough the now screaming child back.
The mother glanced up.
"What are you doing to my fucking child? Don't go touching him you pedo!"
I could have punched her in the face. I wanted to. Instead I stayed calm.
"Excuse me, but your child ran past the barriers. This man had to stop him because you did nothing. If you can't control your child, please leave."
I waved at security. Both the parents were kicking off now while the kid was left unattended again. I didn't sign up for this.
"Please calm down. I can take you to the side and we can report what happe-"
"Calm down? After he just hit my child? Do you want to get kicked too?"
The rest of the tour backed away. Then I was on the floor. Security had to drag the father off of me. I saw a growing pool of blood. I couldn't move.
The police arrived. I sat as someone patched me up. Just a broken nose and a few cuts. It could have been much worse; thats what they told me. I wondered what the builders of the henge would have thought; were they turning in their graves? No one respected history and its mysteries anymore. What could have been an ancient shrine, a complex sundial or even just a meeting place had become a tourist attraction treated like a playground.
I stared at the stones.
"If there's a God out there who cares for this place, help me."
Nothing happened immediately, yet as I watched the stones grew dark. It was as if they sucked in the shadows around them. Then my phone rang. An unknown number that appeared to be from London. I answered.
"You called. I can see the necessary blood offering has been made. I must say the prayer is a welcome surprise and you even used your own blood, my favourite sacrifice. It's been centuries since I've had a prayer."
My jaw dropped at the voice. My nose clicked into place. The bleeding stopped.
"Wh-who is this?"
"God of death at your service, and don't worry, the healing is complimentary. Now what's the problem?" | I'll tell you something. This is actually a true story. I live near the coast of California. Something you sometimes find on the beach here is a strange little nut. When I grew up, I found out that they were palm nuts. They have a really wonderful, warm smell, exotic and sweet. Palm trees seeded themselves on islands by falling into the water, and floating who knows how long alone on the sea until the lucky ones happen to wash up somewhere where they can take root. A decade or so ago, I had been without a permanent home for quite some time. I am very much a homebody-type, and I felt sad and defeated. But in front of one of my friends' houses there was an *enormous,* lush and venerable palm tree. I thought about the seeds, and I figured that palm trees know a lot about wandering, being adrift, and putting down roots. So I wrote out a prayer to this beautiful old palm tree, asking it to help me find the place where I belonged. I rolled it up, and tucked it into the bark. Not long thereafter, I found that home and I've been there ever since. So for me, in this WP, there is a little bit of real magic. | 2018-05-30T00:59:15 | 2018-05-29T22:16:16 | 111 | 48 |
[WP] Kaiju routinely attack the city. You cannot get anyone to listen to your sensible, practical plan to stop them because they all want to build giant robots. | "Remember the old joke, how do you stop a rhino from charging?" I looked around at the council. "You take aways its credit card. Its the same principal with these kaiju. We alter their planner, we change their routine, they won't come back"
I looked at the sea of faces. All of then blank.
"Nah say," started Bruce. "Is this some kai nah joke?"
"I... think it is," answerer April. "She did say it after a joke."
"I don't like the joke!" called Morris, to a murmur of agreement.
"What, no," I stammered. "Dr. Maganawi already confirmed that when he built the kaiju, he added a scheduler. They are more bio-robot than beast."
"I heard more and I heard robots!" Morris beamed.
"Please can we..." I started but it was too late.
*5 months later*
I had to admit that the robot was pretty badass. It had been given the full Gundam treatment. Kaiju Tyson was due to arrive today, as per his schedule. A rumbling started at 10.11am, as it did every 3rd Friday of the month (except if it had rained in the past 2 days). Tyson would peak over the hill in 3... 2... 1...
"NOW!!" Bin-bin called, activating Robot's Kaiju Stomp subroutine. Robot moved faster than the eye could follow, pulling out a sword as he went towards Tyson. Tyson roared as Robot made contact and... shattered. Robot broke into a million pieces on first contact.
*2 days later*
"Well," I addressed the council. "We are lucky that the residents mostly evacuated. Eight thousand lives is just a statistic, right?"
No one answered.
"Cost, durabilty, and size." I continued. "Pick 2". | 放射線から
彼ら聞くない
怪獣だ
===
Hi! I have to write some extra words or the sub’s bot removes my haiku. I am still a novice in Japanese, so I’m sorry if my haiku isn’t very good. Or even really good Japanese. I was just using this time as a learning opportunity. That should do it for word-count. Ta! | 2016-01-11T11:31:47 | 2016-01-11T11:26:30 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] A rebel leader is captured and thrown into the dungeons. But instead of torturing or executing them, the king asks why they're revolting. | Dark. Dank. Grime clings to the walls and forms a squelching sheet across the floor. I’m tucked up as best I can in the small alcove of the doorway; the metal door is cold against my back, but it is relatively free from the sludge.
Footsteps are coming from underneath me – from behind me – and they’re loudening. Silence. *Jangle.* I can feel the door vibrating a little. I’m moving away. I’m in the corner of the room, and the grime is grabbing onto my shoulders and dribbling down the back of my neck. I can taste blood and sweat and the filth of the air. The door is opening, and I can only see a silhouette: the shape of a man – a big man – and an outstretched hand. He’s holding a sack.
\*
I’m on my knees – I can tell that much - and I’m blind. My eyes are twitching, but I can’t make anything out. Just darkness. There’s a heavy pressure on the top of my head, and it’s jostling me left and right. Light. Bright light. I can see again, but with sight comes the awareness that the inside of my skull is throbbing with agony. And in front of me is a raised dais, upon which is a decadent chair – a throne – and upon that is a fat man, dressed in curtains. He’s licking his lips. I can see clearly now, and a bulbous tongue is tracking its way along the corner of his mouth, catching wiry strands of moustache and pulling them along with the spittle.
The King is on his feet, and he is labouring closer to me. Most of my vision is now filled by a rotund canvas of gold on red.
“*Yeurgh*!” He’s saying. His voice is foul and filled with contempt. I am risking a look up, and now he’s physically recoiling and falling back to his throne; he stumbles on the step and the seat catches his rear with a heavy squeak.
“Who brought this?” He is high with incredulity. “Who brought this one? No, no – this will not do!” The fat King’s stubby hands are waving around in front of him. He’s gesturing mainly to my right, and I can see three men there; they all look panicked and small.
“How am I supposed to… do you not think… I am a King!” He’s wailing. “I am a man of *taste*! I don’t know how you think that – how I would…” With a heavy breath, he’s turned his attention to me. His pinhole eyes fix me from afar. “You!” he says, “Why – *why* – why are you so… why are you - *revolting*? The very smell of you is a fetid concoction!”
His stare snaps away, and the King is snarling at the men: “Take him away! Find me another – and find whoever made this one stink!”
“Yes, my King,” a young voice is saying back, “what of this one? It seems a waste to, to throw him away-”
I can see the King preparing to speak, but he’s just caught the words in his throat. He’s sighing and shaking his head. “Fine – fine. Take him down to the furnaces: have the cooks clean him up and dry him out. Plenty of salt! And crisp him up. You need to get rid of the smell from him. *Revolting.*” | King James looked out from his castle, his kingdom extended as far as the eye could see. A powerful kingdom with an even more powerful people. Or so he thought.
As hes looking out he hears a knock
"Bring him in"
A guard brings in a man in his late 20s, long blond hair and crystal blue eyes. Wearing what seemed to be gear for battle.
"Mr.Adder, as I'm sure you're aware I am King James. The ruler of Great Hold. My guards captured you and brought you here, to my castle. Instead of following in the footsteps of my ancestors and executing you, I instead have but one question to ask, What are you revolting against? Have I not been more then fair by providing livible income and the ability to see medics free of charge? Have I not given the people a good enough life? What have I done to upset you?"
"*King* James. What a joke. You are the reason my people are dead. 10 years ago you raided and pillaged our homes, inoculating us into your stupid kingdom. We were doing fine until you murder my family and my neighbor's family. Your empire struck with no mercy even after we surrendered. Your attempts of holding a good public image may work on your brainwashed population but not on me"
"Ah Mr.Adder, shame it's had to come to this. You should not be alive, I gave clear instructions for your entire village to be killed. Seems they must have missed you. Knowledge of a second eligible heir would have been bad for me back then. But now who's going to believe you. In that case I think I'm going to have some fun. Make your little army and fight me. Sign your death warrant. Or, become a coward, up to you. You may go"
"You're a sick man. You're playing with lives like they're simple playing cards. I will make my army and we will take you out. Goodbye for now."
King James was fair to the people. But fair was defined by him, not by some dictionary
**it is late so this might be low quality, just thought Id give this really cool prompt a shot** | 2020-07-16T00:05:41 | 2020-07-15T23:06:55 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] When you die the afterlife is an arena where you face every insect and animal you killed in your life. If you win you go to heaven, lose you go to hell. Your job was an exterminator on earth. | The pits beneath the arena were dimly lit by a handful of torches. What little light that slipped through the cracks of the boards overhead helped illuminate the area. It was very similar in nature to the Roman Arenas of antiquity, or so those that had prior knowledge of Ancient Rome thought. The strange thing about the pits was the random order in which people appeared. People from periods throughout history were known to appear in the pits as though time did not move in a single line here. A man in a black uniform was adjusting his gloves as another approached him. "You're looking nervous my friend, why so? Once you finish your arena fights you'll be blessed with eternal life in heaven!"
The uniformed man looked at the happy stranger, "You're rather optimistic."
"Ha, well of course, I lived pious life and I can happily say that I only ever killed that which I had to."
"As you did, though I am certain my number of kills far exceed yours." The man replied back, adjusting several medals and ornate features on his uniform.
"It can't be so bad," the stranger said in turn.
"I was an exterminator in my past life."
"Oh, well that does change things. But I am sure you will prevail."
"No, I knew I would find myself in hell the first time I killed them," The Uniformed man said in a near monotone voice as he finished adjusting the silver skulls on his collar and red armband.
As he stepped out through the glowing doorway before him he found himself transported to a very familiar scene. Wooden barracks, barbwire fences, gallows, all so real he almost thought for a moment that it was a dream and he hadn't actually died yet. Until he heard a crowd of voices call out from behind him, "Schutzstaffel".
| I store up at the giant wave of fur and chitin, wondering if hell was /really/ that bad. I mean, it can't be worse than fighting a literal metric ton of angry spiders without a weapon...Then I realized I was still wearing the item I died in. My hand reached down to my utility belt. And at that moment, I thanked God I had just restocked my supply of RAID. | 2017-04-23T21:45:16 | 2017-04-23T17:19:20 | 553 | 81 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | The human lay on the floor with it's eyes shut tightly, stagnant water dripping from it, a single reed sticking out of its mouth.
After a few moments it opened its eyes to see why the pond water had suddenly vanished, eventually focusing in on the officials surrounding it.
"Hmm. It seems to be in good enough shape, but it's a bit small."
"Why is it all wet?"
One of the aliens raises a holographic cube with a tentacle, gesticulating to rewind the footage shown within.
"Ah, it was hiding from another human faction."
The footage showed several dozen heavily armed but raggedly clothed humans canvassing the woods surrounding the scummy pond from which the human had been snatched.
"Great, another coward."
"Oh well. Connect it to the psycho-mat and inform it of this years conditions."
"Hmm, it came from a tropical rain forest. This years arena is a tropical rain forest. Perhaps it can survive long enough to make things interesting. What are the odds on the human candidate this year?"
"Oof, two-to-one that it gets past 780th place."
"500th?"
"Wow. Over eighty-three thousand."
"Hahaha, maybe worth a small side bet."
The Officials swiped away the cube and all but one made their way out of the chamber.
A light shone into the humans face and transmitted the details of this years battle royale, and the prize for success.
Though it was still a bit confused, the human comprehended the situation unusually quickly, and the psycho-mat beeped to confirm comprehension in a matter of seconds.
"Huh... that was quick."
It pulled up another holographic cube and checked to see comprehension times of other candidates. This years human candidate was orders of magnitude smarter than the second smartest candidate.
The remaining official took a second to ponder, then brought up a cube for the betting pools. After scrolling for a while, it finally came upon the betting interface for the human candidate all the way at the bottom of the list. It placed a sizable wager.
"Eh, worst case scenario I'll cut out visits to the pleasure-dome for a while," it said to calm the rapid beating of its hearts.
The human had already stood up and was taking stock of its possessions.
The official brought up a translator cube and spoke to the human, "did the transporter fail to bring along your possessions?"
The human paused for a moment then smiled, adopted what it believed to be a jovial tone and said, "yes. I had to hide most of my equipment before hiding from those communists in that pond."
The official contracted knowingly, "ah, that happens sometimes. Let me check the recordings."
After a few moments pause, during which the human seemed uneasy, the official said, "You must have hidden your equipment before you were selected, because I you don't seem to have any equipment in the recording."
"Ah, yes, I hid it before I left to find a hiding place."
"Oh, ok," the official brought up another cube, "here's a list of all of the contemporary equipment from your civilization that we can replicate. Pick out what you had and it will be provided before you are transported into the arena."
The human hesitated for a moment, then began scrolling through the list of items available:
Aerogel reinforced graphene scale bodysuit with quantum stealth coating; one single-handed and one two-handed firearm with several drum magazines loaded with tungsten tipped ammunition; an assortment of hand-held explosive devices; some kind of trap-making toolkit; a vest and backpack to store it all.
"That, uh, that's more or less what I had before you guys brought me here."
"Alright, get it over there and start preparing."
A hatch opened in the wall with all of the equipment.
The human rushed over and, after a moment running its hands appreciatively over the equipment, began donning everything.
"Does it match the specifications of your equipment?"
The human didn't respond immediately, intently sorting through the equipment.
The official popped several of it's suction cups to grab the humans attention.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, it's great," it glanced up at the official then continued to fondle the equipment, "it's just nice and brand new. Also the, uh, build quality is slightly better. Your culture must be very *advanced*"
The official unconsciously puffed up at that, "ah, yes, well, it's true. It's likely that some of this is of higher quality than what your people are capable. I'll leave you to prepare. The tournament begins in approximately one hour."
------------------------------------------------
"An investigation has been opened into the Tournament Official who oversaw the preparation by psycho-mat of the Human candidate today after, against all odds, the human was able to complete the Tournament in first place. Being the only individual to place a bet on the human, immediately before the onset of the tournament, some officials believe that there may have been some form of foul play. The Official in question claims that this individual was simply much more intelligent than the typical human and was aided more by the similarity of its home environment to the one chosen for this years Arena. More on this at fourteen-seventy-five. But first, this popular brand of krill paste might contain mammal byproducts..." | Oh god. I have no internet so let’s try writing this from my phone. Sorry in advance for typos and punctuation. Already hard enough on the phone but I also got fat thumbs! Best I can get with a quick and dirty write up on the bus!
“Are the contestants ready?”
“Of course Game Master Zerg. Right on time. We have a line up from several different galaxys.”
“And a human?”
“Good! Proceed post haste! You can’t find entertainment like this else where and the people are waiting!”
The arena looked like a scrunched up map. Forests sat next to deserts, desserts next to snowy plains and ice topped mountains and so on. It was the Game Masters goal to encapsulate as many environments as he could, to allow all the fighters a place to move naturally.
Zeg focused his screen on a human who stood on a grassy hillock, flanked by a river, and speckled with trees. The humans always died first, but they could get pretty creative while attempting to live. They where like a firework, short lived but spectacular.
This one was a bit odd though. It was covered from head to toe in green armor, a large Warhammer in his grasp. It mattered not though, an Xixliv was stalking the human. This 6 lumber creature where apex predators as well as being fully sapient. A mix of instinct and critical thought.
Zeg sighed, the human this year probably wouldn’t be very entertaining. He watched the Xixliv pounce.
The human however was ready, they wheeled around shouting “FOR THE GLORY OF DUNDEE!” While swing his might hammer. It collided with the Xixliv with a sickening crunch. The hammer flashed, thunder struck and half of the beats body was atomized. What was left of its mangled carcass flew through the air before hitting the ground in an unceremonious heap.
Zeg sat stunned. He watched the human raise his hammer to the sky. “Zagothrax! What kind of joke is this! Come and fight me you damnable wizard!”
Zeg was mid throught caught between wondering who or what a Zagothrax was, and how the human managed to beat a Xixliv in one hit? His pondering was interrupted as the entire structure of the planet sized ship, the contained the arena, shook. Alarms blazed.
Zeg flicked several switches and demanded a status report.
“W-w...Idono sir. We are under attack...but this...this can’t be possible.”
“Out with it you bumbling oaf!”
“ We are being attacked by just one person...bio scans indicate that it’s heart is...a Neutron Star. It’s currently making its way to the arena.”
“A Neutron Star? This isn’t the time for jokes. Get security down to the arena doors. I will meet this invader myself!”
Before Zeg had the chance to stand, he watched the walls of the arena blow open from his observation room. The smoke and debris settled revealing what looks to be a muscled, finely toned man, garbed in furs of various beasts, caring nothing more than a battle axe.
“Angus! What are you doing here? We have no time for games!” The man shouted.
“Hootsman! Thank goodness! I believe this to be a trap set by the wizard.”
“ Its nothing of the sort! Quickly with me! We must return to space! The chaos wizards move on Cowdenbeath!”
The two figures quickly fled through the hole in the arena. Leaving Zeg stunned and sputtering commands into his microphone. | 2020-09-13T20:20:37 | 2020-09-13T18:50:43 | 39 | 23 |
[WP] Ten year ago your mentor told you "Kid, here's a dirty little secret about magic. You can just make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who take it seriously really mad." Today you're one of the least respected (and most powerful) mages on the continent. | "FLOBULDYGLABGULDA!"
The other mages cried out in sheer panic as an explosion on par with Dwarven mining dynamite rocked the town, sending bodies and body parts flying as I smirked. When in doubt, blow shit up, my mentor always used to say.
"You know you guys are fucked, right?!" I yelled. "I can do this all day!"
"We can't allow you to continue besmirching the good name of magic!" one of the old coots shrieked, sending a few magic missiles my way. "It's not proper, I tell you! Shouting gobbledygook and casting spells on par with grandmasters!" I simply blew a raspberry at him, and the missiles dissipated into nothing.
"Shove it up your ass, you old fart!"
The man's face went crimson with pure, unadulterated rage, but before he could do so much as loose a hex at me I crossed my eyes, stuck out my tongue, and turned him into a toad.
I hadn't always wielded magic with such reckless abandon. I was like them too, once-strictly sticking to written spells and preapproved enchantments, always making sure I followed the rules to a T. But over the years, my own discontentment with those strict rules grew, and I sought out more... free magic, so to speak. At first all I could find was the evil sort of magic-stealing souls, making sacrifices to profaned beings from Hell and the Faerie Courts and even Outer Gods from the edges of reality, the sort of thing that I had no interest in. I was an ass, but I wasn't a selfish ass; if I was going to get power, I would be the only one paying the price, not some poor sap that hadn't agreed to it. But eventually, I found my salvation through my mentor. And with just one sentence, he had revealed the truth to me:
"All these rules? They're horseshit. They're made by elderly magi to keep the rest of us chained, keep us under their thumb. Lemme let you in on a secret, kid... you can just make shit up as you go along. Magic doesn't work through formulae or rituals. It works through you believing it'll work."
It wasn't long before I was known as the most powerful magus in the Five Lands, slinging spells that most other mages could only dream of casting and earning a name for myself as the Fool Wizard, he who used his magic recklessly and freely. Oddly enough the archmages themselves never bothered me, but lesser grand magi often sent assassins like these fellows to try and deal with me.
Speaking of magical assassins, I noticed one of them was beginning a ritual to summon a demon. Forbidden magic... then again, desperate times called for desperate measures. I lifted my arms to the sky, and with a wiggle of my fingers a very familiar and very annoyed angel popped into being in front of me, clad in a bathrobe and wielding her usual flaming sword.
"Fuck's sake, Crowley, what do you want this time? I was about to go to bed."
I merely pointed at the abomination clawing its way from Hell. She rubbed her eyes and sighed, then lunged forward to deal with it, leaving me to deal with a very angry mage with an ice knife.
"Just die already!" she hissed. I flipped her the bird, and rather fittingly transformed her into a flock of swallows that fluttered off into the skies.
"No thanks," I replied as the chaos died down. Seemed she was the last of them...
Rather abruptly, someone smacked me in the back of the head. Hard. Must've been Alita.
"OW! What was that for?! I thought we were friends!"
"We *are*, but that doesn't mean you can bother me every five damned seconds, Crowley!" Alita griped. "Swear to Pelor... I'm going to go to bed. I'm going to get a good night's sleep. And so help me gods, if you summon me *one more time* in the next twelve hours I am going to dip you in honey and toss you into a vat of fire ants you inconsiderate nincompoop. Good night."
And with that, she was gone again in a flash of light. I glanced around at the destruction and sighed; maybe I shouldn't have created such a big explosion... then again this was a ghost town. Nobody was around to care.
With one final shrug of my shoulders, my hands went back into my pockets, and I returned along my way to wherever my own fancy decided to take me next. | Under the moonlight, the crimson body looks a lot like a broken doll.
It lays there limply, ragged, bruised. So still it’s as if time had frozen itself. And my hands, so used to warmth, lay there, cold and shaking. Somewhere deep inside of me, I wonder how I got here. How I’ve become what I’ve become. If maybe the world was actually made for me, trusted me, only I had betrayed and destroyed it.
Maybe I’m the puppeteer, and the broken body lying beneath me is attached to the strings I’m controlling, and the whole world looks on, like they know they’re next, like they know all they are to me is a puppet.
I want to scream. I want to rage and cry and go to sleep and never wake up again. I want to feel human. Only I know I’m past all that. I know it’s too late for that.
But part of me still longs for it, for innocent magic and innocent people and innocent users. There’s nothing innocent about this. Certainly nothing innocent about me.
I love magic. It exists deep within my bones — a direct part of who I am, but it also sits and stirs, pounding against my flesh, aching to get out. And if I don’t let it out, it explodes. That’s how much magic I have. And the much quieter part of me, perhaps coming from the heart, the part I’ll never admit, the part that tells me that’s what scares me the most.
*(“Kid, here's a dirty little secret about magic. You can just make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who take it seriously really mad.”*
*~~And maybe if I hadn’t listened to his words, maybe if I had walked away, none of this would have happened.~~*
*~~But it did, and I know that not even magic can fix this.~~)*
You see, I may be a powerful magi, the most powerful user in the continent, maybe even the world, but I’m the least respected. And something you must remember, something you must never forget, being feared doesn’t mean being respected.
I’ve started a war built on magic, have created a kingdom made out of magic, and watched as my hands burnt it all down. Soldiers have fought for me, warriors have died for me, and yet, no one lives for me.
Gods fear me, mortals want to be me, and in all the terror and destruction, I’m not sure if that makes me a god or a mortal.
Perhaps both, perhaps none at all. Perhaps I’m just biding for time, or maybe I have no time at all, or maybe I’m nothing but my magic, and maybe that’s not even enough.
The body beneath me doesn’t stir, the war raging on all around me, screams and cries filling the cool night air, and this time, not even my magic answers back.
Just as magic can love you, it can also betray you.
And in this world, there is nothing worse than betrayal.
So I’ll continue to play the part of master, but only if you play the part of prisoner.
—
/r/itrytowrite | 2021-08-26T19:21:49 | 2021-08-26T18:15:43 | 110 | 69 |
[WP] A watch is invented where it says exactly how long until you meet your soulmate. You decide to get one for you and one for your wife. Your wife’s watch says ’negative 6 years, 9 months, 14 days, 3 hours and 9 minutes’, the day you two met. Yours says ’12 days, 8 hours, 29 minutes’. | I stared at the damned thing for 10 minutes now. I am in disbelief. This didn't even make sense- how can 2 people not be eah others soul mates? My heart raced. Powerfully. It even began hurting!
But if I were telling the truth, I'm relieved. I have never felt this woman loved me. Well, at least the way I've wanted to be loved. Its hard for me to tell if she just doesn't love the same way I do or if it is even love at all. It doesn't matter. All these feelings and emotions swirling the around from being at the climax of a romantic night I've planned tireless for? This is too much. I haven't even looked up yet to meet her eyes.
The horror was clear. Our mutual disbelief met. Not in the hugging embrace type, more like the sword fight type. The click of the clock felt like my tell take heart pounding beneath the wood.
"I'm so sorry" I said, closing my eyes as I couldn't bear the weight of this anymore. Not even my own words sounded right coming out of my mouth.
"I knew we were never right for each other-" she continues, as it sets in that I am not the one talking, "all these years. I tried loving you. I really did but I knew it was never right..."
The swell of words and phrases were not making sense in my head. I couldn't even form a reaction because I could barely comprehend what she was telling me.
"I'm so sorry you had to find out like this... I still love you. I just couldn't live without either of you-"
Now it hits me. The date on her watch is hours before we met. All coming to mind now that we met at a bar after her cruddy date. All these years.. I'm not sure how to process this. It feels as though a burden is lifted- my own guilt is released and it is aparent with the smile on my face.
I simply show her the date on my watch.
Her smile follows suit. | “What do you mean I’m not your soulmate!” cried Stephanie, obviously hurt.
“I don’t know sweetie,” I held out my arms but she stormed past me into her room.
Fuck.
Most people have children to fix their marital problems. Steph and I got a dog.
It took us twelve days to fill out the forms, but soon enough we were being led to a pen by a grumpy shelter volunteer.
I knelt down and held out my arms as a puppy jumped all over me. She licked my hand and that’s when I noticed it, my watch hit zero. | 2018-01-06T22:59:33 | 2018-01-06T22:26:51 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] You don't remember it, but before you were born, you went through an RPG-esque character creation and determined your attributes, virtues, traits, natural skills etc. You have died and realized all the wrong choices you made from the very beginning. | I was a tank. That was the idea, anyway. I remember it all so clearly, now; I had studied intently what would have been my first twenty years of life, and tank seemed the way to go. I loaded up on charisma, strength, and constitution, and I gave a pittance to intelligence and wisdom—just enough to navigate my early hurdles. It seemed clear to me that I’d gain an early advantage if only I could make friends and intimidate my enemies.
My social skills largely masked what my teachers came to understand: that I was slow. That I had an ego. That I’d always need extra encouragement and patience to keep up developmentally. I had anticipated this, and figured I’d be clever enough to find ways to boost my intelligence if necessary. But it wasn’t that easy.
So I strengthened my natural advantages. I worked out, and developed quite the silver tongue. By age 15, I had earned my place as top jock. I had friends, girls, and a nice long list of “C”s on my report card (half of which had been negotiated from lower grades by my coaches).
Unfortunately, I didn’t even make it to my magic number 20—the age where I should have been on top, in the lead, unstoppable. My meager wisdom value ensured otherwise. In that final moment, it seemed like a good idea. It seemed like it would boost my popularity to new plateaus. Charismatic, strong, invincible me thought it was so impressive to take a few friends on a drive with a bottle of vodka and a new pair of subwoofers.
It was fun. It was stupid. I lost, and so did they. Turns out that when your ability to change depends on your natural wisdom, it doesn’t matter how athletic or charming you are.
I can’t make it right, but I can roll again. And I think this time I’ll go healer.
*****
Edit: typo
| "Hmm... Int and Agility are fairly high, extremely high Wisdom. Strength is low, but not too bad overall. I don't know where all of these points came from because my endurance is impeccable too.
Oh...
I see...
'Name: atwork, Charles
Attributes:
STR - 5
**CHR - 1**
INT - 8
AGI - 10
WIS - 10
END - 7'
That's why my life was so difficult." | 2015-01-09T10:45:40 | 2015-01-09T10:24:35 | 99 | 35 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | I did it.
I want to scream, “I did it!” but there’s another camper hanging around and if I scream about completing that awful curry dex, he’ll question what I mean.
I’m the champ, you know. Gotta keep up the image.
I smile to myself and let my sweet little Pokémon (not—they’re IV trained, Gigantamax beasts; if you try and complete the curry dex, you get bored very quickly) enjoy their meal.
That’s when it’s happens. That’s when the night sky goes dark, hurricane like winds take over the sky and I even have to hold my Corviknight down.
“Impossible! Is that the Darkest Day? I thought you stopped it!” Generic Camper Number 729 screams.
Yeah, I did. I beat and caught Eternatos. It’s in my boxes, safely stored away thanks to crappy IVs. Isn’t it angry?
“Stay down,” I tell him like the good champ I am. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
My team is strong. They’re trained to be the strongest. I needed them to beat the battle tree—and to maintain my sanity while dealing with the curry. Competitive play had never been of interest to me, but if you spend years living in Pokémon Sword, you get dragged into the fun of battles.
I often wondered if the online battles I fought were against players in my world.
That’s how it comes to my mind. “It’s not the Darkest Day!” I call out—even my Pokémon look are me as I’m dumb. “It’s my way home!”
Because yes, of course, I can beat Pokémon Sword while being in the game. It’s Pokémon, for heaven’s sake! I enjoyed it at first (until the curry dex came to my mind) and considered staying. It’s just sad that I couldn’t go to Sinnoh or Johto, my favourite regions.
Then again, I suppose, the Sword/Shield final was better (and easier. So much easier.) than a freak wanting to build a new universe.
All goes black—as if it’s indeed the Darkest Day again.
I wake up where I left. In my room, in front of my phone. It tells me that it’s in the morning, and that it’s February 2020.
I left in the morning of a Saturday in February 2020.
“Thank god, I didn’t miss time,” I blurt out.
I eye the message, and wonder what it means to me. Surely I haven’t been gifted the ridiculous amounts of PokéDollars, the items or my Pokémon themselves?
False.
Of course, I had the maximum of cash by the end of my adventures. 99,999 PokéDollars—or yen, in the original games.
That’s why the equivalent off 99,999 PokéDollars lies in front of me.
About 900USD.
But next to what will maybe get me through a month at most, is something of much, much more value.
My bag. And in it, the endless depth of what all items I had. Including all existing clothes, countless berries and cooking items—and the Pokémon Box Link.
And six PokéBalls.
I take one, to test. Release the Pokémon in it. Corviknight roars in my dorm room.
The situation dawns me.
“I got Pokémon. I got ******* Pokémon!”
(Worth the days spent on the curry dex.) | When I got the text, I didn't have to think about it very long - I had just been lying in bed, playing Ashphalt on my PHONE. 'Yeah, sure,' I reply, thinking nothing of it. Jeff always sends me this shit.
As I put my phone back down and close my eyes I feel a wave of nausea hit, then pass, leaving behind a lingering whiff of burnt rubber and exhaust. I hear a voice, over my.... headset?
"To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"
My eyes snap open. I'm in a garage, a frankly unfathomable number of performance cars arrayed before me, like the private caryard of a middle eastern prince. Gaudy paint jobs contrasted with sleek carbon fibre and there was high tempo pop-rock coming from.... somewhere? On the wall there were pictures of cars with post-its attached - 1/45, 23/25, 11/100 - records of my progress to yet more sets of wheels.
My crew chief saunters up. "Next race is in 5, boss. European circuit. Choose between the Audi, the Porche or the VW." I look at him, hard. "The Porche, man, always the Porche" "Sure, boss? She's almost out of fuel and you might want her for the next run - competition will be hot and it's a 90 minute job to fill her up again" "Alright, then, warm up the Audi, but make sure you upgrade her nitro, she fell behind last time"
I start to wonder - what's my "winning condition"? One race? A season? A full circuit? I might be here a long time... But at least I'll come away with a lot of cash!
The Chief comes back. "Alright boss, Audi's on the starting line, get out there." I head out and strap in. I start the engine and give her a few test revs. The lights strobe.
3
2
1
GO!!!
Aaaaaaaand I stall it. Shit. I can't drive a fucking manual. | 2020-02-17T00:45:30 | 2020-02-17T00:31:53 | 31 | 21 |
[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 | Empty. Lena checked it every single day, and has been checking it for the last ten years. Her sigil was still empty. She was sixteen now and it should've been filled once she was six. It never happened, and everyday she hoped it would. And every day, she wakes up disappointed.
She fixated it longer today as she sat on her own during lunch. She gave it a glare as though it would understand and finally do what it was supposed to.
Nobody understood.
Her parents didn't understand why she was an anomaly, yet they loved her regardless. Her classmates however didn't understand that they were not superior just because she did not have powers as they did.
Brian was her main bully. He didn't sound like a bully, but he was. His sigil allowed him to cast ice. It matched his heart temperature, Lena confirmed it was cold as ice.
He was cruel and relentless. Though he hasn't yet used his powers on her, his words hurt as frostbite would.
"There it is!" He sneered behind her, referring to her as 'it' as he usually would. "Does it have powers today yet?"
Lena clenched the palm of her hand where her sigil was. She controlled her breathing and let her anger go. She would tune him out as she usually did before the bell rung.
She closed her locker and took her phone out of her pocket.
Brian snatched it from her hands.
She gave him a glare that could kill, yet he only grinned in response.
"Give it back!" She cried out stretching her hand out to reclaim it.
Their interaction was grabbing the attention of the students around them.
"Or what?" He taunted back. "Huh, creature? What are you going to do? Cast out your invisible powers to take me down?"
"I don't know who you think you are and why you think you have the right to-"
Before she had the opportunity to finish her statement, she felt a sharp pain enter her stomach. The rest of the students gasped.
He cast his powers on her. He stabbed her with an icicle.
"Your sentence was way too long." He plainly said with a smug look in his eyes.
Lena felt nothing at that point, and only went still in response. His powers did that. They would freeze the target for as long as the caster desired.
But that was not why she froze, no she did not feel the cold.
"You are nothing. You can do nothing. You're just a weak little girl."
She heard him perfectly well and knew deep inside that it was not the truth. No, no, the truth was much greater than that, and she felt it with every single fibre of her being.
"Alicia, patch it up please." He called out to one of the students who quickly approached to tend to Lena's wound.
"No, stay away." Lena sternly instructed, and Alicia stopped mid-way. Brian looked at her confused.
Lena slowly removed the icicle from her stomach and felt her body heal on its own. She could not feel the stinging the ice would have brought as she held it. Her blood was boiling, literally boiling through the icicle she retracted.
Brian stood in disbelief. Her wound was healed and left no scar, and she could not be frozen. He tried to stab her once more but the same result came out. Again and again. Every icicle he injected, she would effortlessly remove and heal once more as though nothing had happened.
Her sigil was a full circle. It was not an empty circle. Her sigil was wholeness, which was why she could heal. Her sigil was the sun, which was why her blood boiled and she could not be frozen.
"You will not bring me down anymore." She said as she herself stabbed him with an icicle of her own. Her eyes stared into his and she saw them fill up with tears of pain. The same pain she would have gone through were she not who she was.
What goes around comes around. Her sigil was Karma. A full and complete circle.
And then she wondered, what else could her sigil be? | Another day and the same fucking asshole and his group of friends who pick on me. Using their powers to shock me or set my homework on fire was only the beginning. I've had to lie to my mother why I was coming home with burn marks on my arms. I hate lying to mother. They claim they'll stop harassing me if I show them my power, as if that would make them stop. I shouldn't use my power. Once I found out what I had done I didn't want to use it much after that. I didn't want to be kicked out of school for something I was given that I didn't ask for. However, just moments ago they started to hurt my friend. The only one who didn't seem to care about my sigil and think of me as weird for not using mine. It was time I did something to stop them. Perhaps they'll stop harassing me if I can scare them enough.
"Let him go, Ron!" I yelled.
"And what the hell are you gonna do about it? Use your power of hugs? Are you just gonna run in circles?" He said trying to hold back his laughter. His lackeys chucking with him. They continue to push my friend and singe his hair.
"Do you know what circles can represent?" I say. I wait for them to turn my way in response. As soon as I catch their glances I lose the whites of my eyes as my pupils seem to expand covering my entire eye.
I can see their wonder and why my eyes have turned black.
"Life." I hold my hand out and before anyone can say anything the bullies get to see Ron fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes. They both look down at him while the light in his eyes die out.
"You killed him!" Yelled one of them. The look of horror from each face that witnessed was enough for me to know that they would stop picking on me.
I close my eyes and open them again, this time my eyes shine white. Ron opens his eyes. His body weak as he struggles to stand. He fully stands up then bends over to throw up. He looks at me in fear. Without saying a word he understood.
"Let's go guys." Ron says weakly.
Before they leave the scene I stop them for a moment. "All that can be given can be taken away." My eyes turn back to the darkest night. All three of them start running away.
My eyes go back to normal. I let out a sigh of relief as my friend joins me and puts his hand on my shoulder. He looks up at me smiling and says, "I'm glad I'm on your side." | 2020-02-26T10:40:58 | 2020-02-26T10:00:37 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] You're working your normal shift at a daycare, when suddenly a rift opens. cthulu steps out, holding a small mass of tentacles. "Care for him today, and I shall grant you knowledge that predates the oldest stars." | "Aw!" Melanie cried, bending over the child. "Look at *you,* sweetheart!"
The toddler resembled the creature looming over her, a tall, thick-limbed humanoid with a cephalopod head and small, membranous wings on its back, but had the proportions of a baby, small and chubby with a relatively large head and eyes.
Melanie gently poked the child's pudgy belly, and it let out a shrieking giggle, waving its chubby arms and flapping tiny wings.
"Oh my god, I *love* him!" Melanie practically shouted, scooping the alien baby up in her arms and hugging him close.
*AS DO I.* The larger being said, its voice reverberating inside Melanie's skull.
"Okay, well, let's get your little fella all checked in, here. You're...Cthulhu?" Melanie asked, stepping behind the counter, and operating the Little Angels Day Care reception computer with one arm while playfully bouncing the child in the other.
*NO. I AM KTHANID. YOU CANNOT COMPREHEND MY TRUE FORM, NOR THAT OF MY OFFSPRING, SO YOUR MIND SUBSTITUTES EARTHLY ARCHETYPES WITH WHICH YOU ARE FAMILIAR. BATS, CEPHALOPODS, AND YOUR OWN HUMAN FORM, TYPICALLY. UNFORTUNATELY, YOUR KIND HAS COME TO ASSOCIATE THESE SYMBOLIC REPRESENTATIONS WITH THE NAME OF MY BROTHER, CTHULHU DUE TO HIS REPEATED INTERFERENCE WITH YOUR WORLD, AND HENCE I AM FREQUENTLY MISTAKEN FOR HIM.*
"Oh! So that's why...?" Melanie said, pointing to her head, questioningly.
*WHY YOUR BRAIN HAS NOT BEEN METAPHORICALLY LIQUIFIED, MERELY BY WITNESSING MY COUNTENANCE, YES. THAT'S THOOLIE'S DEAL. HE'S KIND OF A DICK, THAT WAY*
Melanie laughed. "Aw, well, I could tell ya'll some stories about *my* siblings, too, sugar! What's the little guy's name?"
*HE IS THE FIRSTBORN STAR-SPAWN OF KTHANID, THE FRACTAL SEED OF PURITY, WHO SHALL ONE DAY GERMINATE INTO THE TESSERACT HYPER-TREE OF FUNDAMENTAL KNOWLEDGE. WHEN THE STARS ARE RIGHT, HIS WRITHING BRANCHES SHALL GROW INTO ALL DIMENSIONS, TO STRANGLE THE MALEVOLENT OUTER GODS THEMSELVES.*
"Okay, so, do we call him *Star, or...?"* Melanie asked, hesitantly.
*YEAH, WE JUST CALL HIM STAR, AROUND THE HOUSE.*
"Alright, gotcha." she said, cheerfully. She paused to give Star a kiss on his chubby cheek, eliciting another giggle.
*HE LIKES YOU.*
"Aw! Well, I sure like *him*, too, bless his little...fractal tesseract heart, or however it goes." Melanie said, beaming at Star as she held and bounced him. "Now, what payment method were ya'll wanting to use?"
*CARE FOR MY OFFSPRING TODAY, AND I SHALL GRANT YOU KNOWLEDGE THAT PREDATES THE OLDEST STARS.*
Melanie frowned at the computer screen, clicking the mouse a few times. "Well...gosh, you know, the computer's not giving me a field where I can type that in..."
*I SEE. THEN, PERHAPS AN ALTERNATE FORM OF RECOMPENSE WOULD INTEREST YOU...*
Melanie jumped, as the being called Kthanid abruptly thrust his arm into his own torso, with a disturbing squelching sound. He withdrew a glistening, ichor-soaked object, which he set down gingerly on the countertop.\`
*I HAVE DISCOVER CARD.* | Today had been a bit stressful getting to work. A thunderstorm had blown in last night, making driving to work a pain as the wind and rain battered my windshield. I still had difficulty seeing the road even though I had my windshield wipers at top speed. I still had to come to work though, I was the branch manager after all. After parking my car, I opened up the daycare to take care of all the young children that parents drop off. After all, work doesn’t stop just because of a little storm.
After Jessica and Bryan arrived, the children started rolling in. Some of the little ones were scared because of all the thunder that shook the windows, so we put on some Disney movie to keep them occupied. All in all, I’d say that the day was going fairly well given the circumstances- that is, until they came.
I had just finished feeding one of the babies some applesauce and I’d set him down as I cleaned up the mess he had made. But as I stepped out of the kitchen, a rift opened in front of me. It was blacker than any black I’d ever seen. If I had to describe the color to the best of my ability, I’d have to say it was the color of void. The sound that emanated from the inky rift grated my ears and it almost felt like it was touching my brain.
Then they came through. Upon seeing them, I somehow know that they were Cthulu. From the tales I had heard, I don’t know how I didn’t go mad at the sight, but I didn’t. Cthulu approached me. They were the size of a normal man, probably to not destroy the building, and holding a small bundle. I just stood there standing and staring as they approached me. Suddenly thrust into my arms was a small mass of tentacles.
Then with a voice that rattled my very being, **“Care for him today, and I shall grant you knowledge that predates the oldest stars.”** Then Cthulu turned and started back for the rift. As he left, I felt like I was myself again. “But- wait sir/madam, you-” They had already gone thought the rift. “-have to pay…” I knew corporate wasn’t going to like this. They do not accept payment in knowledge.
I looked down at the tentacle mass. “What am I going to do with you?”
\---
Thanks for reading, I don’t normally do any writing, but I hope you enjoy it!
Edit: fixing grammar | 2022-04-18T15:42:54 | 2022-04-18T12:48:06 | 392 | 62 |
[WP] A demon that writes messages on your mirror with blood but they’re useful messages. Like “remember you have yoga at 6 tonight”
stolen from Meladoodle on Tumblr. | I started seeing them when I was six years old. Everyone has an imaginary friend or two at that age. I did too, but my imaginary friend had coal black skin, blood red eyes, and spoke with a voice that sounded like the dying scream of a tortured soul. I called him Fred. Soon after I met Fred, I started seeing other things like him. He said they were demons, and with me being six, I simply internalized that and went back to being a kid. I saw them all over the place. The only place I didn't see them was in church. Sometimes they followed people around, sometimes they just lurked in corners or on rooftops, and sometimes they seemed to be hunting someone or something.
When I told people about the things I saw, they had one of two reactions. They chalked it up to an overactive imagination and ignored me. Or they freaked out and assumed I was crazy or seeking attention or that there was something wrong with me. I got prayed over a lot, which Fred didn't take very well. He didn't like when I got prayed over, or took Communion, so I did it as rarely as possible for his sake.
By the time I was nine, I stopped talking about the things I saw and just let people go on in ignorance. It was around nine that Fred, and other demons too as time went on, started helping me. They would tell me the answers to questions on tests. They would steal things for me, usually sweets and other treats, but sometimes I'd get big wads of money or toys or video games. They would stand up for me too. I got picked at the start of high school, as I was short and chubby and had thick birth control glasses, which made me a great victim for assholes and bullies alike. Once someone picked on me though, they often had an accident that would set them straight. One time, a guy kicked the shit out of me after school. The next day, Fred arranged for the guy to get into a car wreck by cutting the brake lines in his car.
I didn't get picked on for very long after that.
Now, as an adult, I actively use the demons that surround me. It seems to make them happy when I acknowledge their presence, and they seemed pleased to be able to serve me in some capacity. Fred still hangs around, although he told me his real name was Korvan (I still call him Fred, which amuses him to a degree) and he's not around as much.
I have the demons do a lot for me, like help me get laid. They can read a persons soul and see what they're into and what they like and what you can tempt them with. It makes it very easy to get laid, and to get people to like you for that matter. I win friends easily, and have a slew of girlfriends coming and going out of my apartment.
I have so many demons around me that I keep one on retainer as a secretary of sorts. She writes messages on my mirror, reminding me of my obligations and appearances I have to make.
One day, as I get up quietly to avoid waking my latest romantic conquest, I slink into the bathroom to check my mirror and see what I've got going on today. What I see sends a shiver up my spine and sends my heart racing.
"They're coming! Get out while you can!" | *July 1^st 2016*
-it happened again.
This time it said "Remember about your date with Tony tonight at 8."
I did forget about it, so in kind of glad. I still am none the less terrified.
*July 2^nd*
-I seen it happen.
I was brushing my teeth and I looked up, I seem a dark face in the mirror. It was hard to tell what it really was, but the writing appeared right in front my eyes.
"Call mom, it's her birthday."
Thanks, dem.
*July 3^rd*
-I think I regret opening up the package.
I should of never opened it, it literally says not to. I'm so stupid.
*July 4^th*
-happy birthday America.
"Don't forget your boots."
Thanks, I would of.
I'm staring to enjoy this 'demon' reminder. I just don't enjoy the blood...
*July 5^th*
-"Meeting with the boss, remember to look over last years quarterly's."
That might of saved my life.
*July 11^th*
-I have been busy.
I got the promotion. 30k raise, and my own office! Should I think the demon!?
*July 13^th*
-I said thank you.
I split my wrist to write thank you on the mirror. Within seconds "your welcome." Was written.
Is this a good relationship?
*July 23^rd*
-we have been talking.
I have been writing to to the demon with my blood. We are becoming more close. He thanked me for letting him out, it has been over 30 years since he seen "Freeness".
*July 31^st*
-Good bye.
I decided to end my life. Good bye. | 2016-08-07T16:46:17 | 2016-08-07T15:49:46 | 80 | 31 |
[WP] Some blamed humanity. Others said it was nature running its course. A few said it was aliens. Everyone had reason for the ever soaring temperatures of our planet. Everyone was wrong. In 2083, as the world was about to go through its death throes, the incubation period ended, and magic was born. | Elenor was just a small child when the world started to worry.
At first it was nothing more than the whispers of a small minority, those who talked for days on end about how the planet was being destroyed by our own hands. There were the hippies who sung about love for our Earth. The scientists who studied the growing temperature with weariness in their bones. And politicians who used the unrest to get comfy seats in air conditioned offices.
But then there was that even smaller minority, the ones that were seen as madmen and dismissed as cultists. They walked through the streets holding signs high up, preaching about magic and other nonsense.
Elenor wanted to believe them, her young mind was captured by the fantastic thought of magic. She once tried to sneak off to talk to one of these 'cultists' only to be pulled back by her mother and chided for her efforts.
"Don't go near those crazy people." She had said, "Magic isn't real."
Elenor, is typical 7 year old fashion, asked the one word that parents tended to dread, "Why?"
For a moment her mom just blinked, seemingly taken aback, before her mouth set into a condescending smile. It wasn't an unkind look, more like the one you would make when a cute cat did something stupid.
"Because, magic is fiction. It isn't real."
A beat passes and she asks again, "Why?"
Her mom sighs, "Ellie, all this talk about the world warming and hocus pocus is just complete nonsense. That's all it is."
The conversation ended there and the girl's heart sunk a little. As the two walked past the crowd, Elenor looked longingly at the cultists as they marched and preached about a New Day, a time where magic would flow through the planet...
o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Years later, when Elenor was a teen, she would pop open her room window and climb out the fire escape. The nights were always warm no matter what season it was. Even during winter the temperature never dropled below 70, so she always felt comfortable as she made her way through the city. She'd walk into the seedier parts of town, careful to avoid anyone dangerous. Eventually she'd find her way to small crowds of people who hung around fires lit in barrels. They would welcome her with open arms and together they would speak about the New Day.
Despite her mother's best efforts to stomp out her fascination with magic, Elenor couldn't deny the call of it. With each year the world grew warmer her body and mind seemed to thrum with a strange energy. It grew as the ground heated below her feet and the sky became hazy.
Yes, magic was real. It was coming. And to her and her fellow Believers, they were ready for the day Earth gave it to them.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Eventually, everything good must end. As the world became unable to deny the endless summers and rising waters, their nerves frayed and their minds filled with panic. No one could stop the world from changing, so they tried the next best thing: to stop the people from changing.
Ignorance made the masses fearful, and they were certaintly ignorant about the Believers. People like Elenor were called "Fanatics" and were deemed to be plagued bt "insanity". Governments cracked down hard on the Believers, and it wasn't long before even the simple thought of magic would get you imprisoned, even beaten.
Elenor was 35 years old when the cops came knocking at her door. She fled out the back, into the uncomfortably hot outdoors and through the woods. The woman did not turn back, not when she heard the sound of shouts and pouding footsteps, not even when dogs were unleashed after her.
They were gaining on her, she knew it, the cops knew it, and her heart was painfully thumping in fear.
But just as the dogs were about to pounce, Earth took pity on her. Suddenly, the trees bowed down, the ground surged up, and a wall of magic sheilded her from her pursuers.
She sighed in relief and walked on.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o
And as the years went by the world grew hotter and hotter, scalding the ground and burning everything in it's path that couldn't exist in a magical world. Steel buildings crumbled, naysayers burned, and for the first time in decades the Believers could freely walk the Earth. As much as the Earth destroyed, she did not hurt the children who saw her as she really was, their true mother.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o
And then the New Day came. By then, Elenor was nearly 70 years old, although she had long lost count. Age didn't matter anymore, at least not enough for her to memorize the number of years gone by. But the wrinkles on her skin was undeniable. And the powerful thrumming of energy - which remained waiting just below her skin and out of reach - had grown enough to remind her of the many years she had been anticiapting this moment.
As normal, the Earth was scalding hot. Oceans simmered, the ground sizzled, and the air was thick with heat. Yet the people of Earth, who had long come to accept the truth, were spared from the blistering feeling.
To them, it was a wonderful day. Today would be the day. All the believers knew it, Elenor knew it.
With a final burst of overwhelming light. The sky lit up in glorious streaks, the ground shook and ruptured and stars streamed out. The Believers glowed bright.
Elenor's skin radiated sunshine and this energy within her burst out. It shone brighter than anything she had ever seen.
Maybe this lasted days, or hours, maybe only a few seconds. But when the light faded enough for her see, she could do nothing but marvel at the world around her.
Dragons soared above the sky, the plants around her glowed with magic, and beautiful crystals which radiated energy sprouted from the ground. The people laughed and sung as they chanelled Earth's power, which they could now call their own.
Elenor lifts her hand and flexes her wrinkled fingers. A tingling sensation runs through her veins, and she instinctively knows what to do.
For a moment, she remembers her years as a young child, s excited at the prospect of magic and so eager to believe in it. The memories of her meetings over bonfires as she spoke the truth with others like her. The times when life was cruel and dangerous, and how it felt to be free from that fear years later.
Elenor is very old now, but when the first sparks of magic form in the palm of her hand, she feels like she's never been more alive. | It was so hot. So hot, all the damn time. But I remembered when it wasn’t. I remembered... when the newscasters’ voices still rang from big, boxy television sets. I remember when their faces were earnest on flatscreens, emphatically trying to convince all who would listen that global warming was real, that global warming was fake. Etcetera.
I lifted an old, frail hand into the sunlight. It was dangerous to be in the sun for too long; there was a high risk of melanoma. But they’d created these new windows that block UV rays, so at least I could turn my hand pink with the light, look through it as I had when I was just a little girl. Be amazed by the hidden veins again, by the non-arthritic knuckles, by the flexible fingers, all of which were mine. Ah, to be a child, playing with her hands again. To be young, healthy, to breathe easy again. To smell a flower, to stand in the sun... to feel the breeze against smooth cheeks again.
But reminiscing was a waste; it always made me cry. I could feel the wetness following the lines of my face. Most didn’t cry anymore; we’d become resigned long before this all happened. Then, for a moment, we’d been frantic... but solemness always wins in the end. Tonight, we die together. One big, 13 billion person family, sitting down for a last meal at 8 o’clock PM, London time. Sleeping schedules didn’t matter anymore anyway; tomorrow wouldn’t come. We slept together—for the first time in history, all of us tucked into bed at the same time. It never got dark anymore anyway, with all the light pollution.
“Goodnight, sweet world.” My last words, I supposed. I remembered when the sky had been blue. I missed the sound of birds... maybe, in the next life, I could have a bird. I’d always wanted a pet raven, but I’d never gotten around to figuring that out. I guessed that it was too late now. Time for bed, time for sleep unending. I turned out the lights, not bothering to close the curtains. The sun would not wake me in the morning...
It seemed that even in death, the sun could shine right through that hole in the blinds and onto my face. I opened my eyes... they were bleary with sleep, but I knew that I was cold. Cold? Could it be that I had woken up, at the moment of death? I’ve heard that people complain of chills when they die. How unfortunate, but unsurprising. Leave it to my subconscious to wake me in our final moments.
But no... with the sleep out of my eyes, I could see it... blue, through that crack in my window, through the slants of my blinds... the brilliant blue of the sky! And birds, singing sweetly as they ever had in my girlhood. I looked at my hands, at the veins lining my bulging joints. My first thought in our salvation took shape in my mind, the first sentence of my new life graced my lips:
“Am I having a fucking stroke?”
I knocked and cursed my way into the living room. I hadn’t bothered to take my cane with me to bed... and I was always awful stiff in the morning. On came the news. A woman, unfamiliar to me, peered our from behind the screen. A random woman off the street it would seem, as it was explained that the newscaster had killed herself the night before. Unwilling to end with the rest of us, I suppose.
“Magic! It truly is magic that’s kept us alive here!” Ridiculous. Magic, the thing of my childhood’s stories? What next, owls coming back from extinction? Witches hats and invisible cloth?
Well, soon I’d have to listen. I had work to do.
They say the Earth woke up. Finally, it’s sentience emerging... and all this time, we had been taking care of the egg. Cells, insects, working to warm the body of the creature, so that she could finally awake. Living on a babe, they say. Or, more accurately, in a babe. I suppose we’re... well, we’re bacteria. Working to keep our body alive. Instructions are relayed to us in languages we can understand by those living in the brain... that was the African region, I believe. Thank God for translators. Here in Australia, we’re in charge of the lungs. Our workdays are short, there are more than enough shifts to go around. My body, old and frail as ever, no longer aches. I breathe deeper than I have in years. We old folks can’t scale the walls like a 20-year-old could, so I mostly do surveillance. I sent messages to the higher-ups, those by the airways, via carrier pigeon. My messenger’s claws clamped firmly on my shoulder, I scrawl a note. Sometimes, my bird even coos in my ear. Oh how I giggle like a little girl then! To be alive, with a bird on my shoulder, the day after Doomsday!
Magic, they say. The magic of life. We don’t understand it, but we’re alive! I envy those who lived in the Caribbean, for the islands are said to live in the eyes. What do they see, when they look up into that crystal sky? I suppose this new order can only be called magic. | 2020-02-22T22:02:10 | 2020-02-22T21:32:29 | 52 | 32 |
[WP] The genie granted your wish: to be able to understand and speak every language. Your mind is flooded with thousands upon thousands of dead and living languages, human and alien alike. But, most surprisingly, you also now understand the operating system running the universe. | Read the top response and this is like that but with slight differences, and omnipotence.
"I wish to understand every language!" And then the pain came in, it flooded my mind as every single language, spoken by man during the times of Jesus to now, from man to animal, from Earth to every language that simply existed but what was most interesting was maybe the single most important language.
The coding language that ran the Universe.
And I understood it all.
My mind changed the illusive figures that may in my head to ellegible characters. Dots and lines turned to As and Es. Child-like circles and markings became comprehendible words and phrases.
And there, in front of me stood the Genie. Or, in the code of the Universe [E.MW.P92.Genie092] the language was rather simple, the first letter, E meant Entity, anything living was E, anything that was an Object was an O and everything else in-between was a U. The second to third meant "Milky Way" and the Fourth to soxth represent which planet. Earth bring P92 and Mars P93. It took a bit of getting used to but it all came to me in the end. and the genie, who loomed over me grinning, hoping I was dead from the flood of knowledge causing my heart to go into cardiac arrest as my blood began to pump harder forcing more water to my brain to help it but I got up, matching my grin to his as he stared at me in confusion and, even if it was remote, horror and I simply stated one thing; "E.MW.P92.Genie092/removelimb.LeftArm removelimb.RightArm" so not one thing, or something simple, but either way, the affects were the same. Both his arms simply disappeared.
(I had more plans but had to go, if someone wants to copy and paste this, go right ahead) | "...so... The universe is running on-"
"Windows, yes."
"...So is this like the Matrix or something?"
"What?"
"You know, we're all living in some kind of virtual reality world and now I have to bust everyone out?"
"What, are you high?? No!! Everything around you is real, we just have it hooked up to a computer so it'll run!"
"Oh."
"Idiot! Make your last wish so I can get away from you!!" | 2018-10-18T14:32:33 | 2018-10-18T12:12:32 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] At a party, a round of truth or dare starts, and you’re dared by someone to ‘go home.’ Not one to back down, you comply leave, though you’re pretty bummed. That is, until the next day you find out everyone at that party died mysteriously. Everyone except the person who dared you to go home.
comply, and leave*
smh I really gotta proofread my prompts better before I post | We sat in the living room, drunkenly debating who was going to start the round of truth or dare. Everyone settles on the prettier of the only two girls here. She let out a giggle and asked one of us who'd had way too much to drink to choose one. The game progresses as usual, until they got to the other girl. In their defense, she wasn't the best looking or most charismatic, and came off as a bit creepy at times, but I thought she was still nice enough. She chose truth. I was too drunk to hear what they'd said, but the girl then muttered her answer and called my name, tears streaming down her face, cheeks flushed with anger. They were still snickering in the background.
"Truth or dare, Jacob?"
​
I walked into the kitchen, head pounding and mind littered with bits of disappointment that I'd been dared to leave so soon. "Did you see the news?" asked my cousin, Ari, as she dumped some scrambled eggs onto a plate."What?" I got a glass of water. She handed me some toast and set her plate on the counter. "Did nobody text..." She trailed off, then rolled her eyes. "Of course they haven't." I shot her an irritated look.
"Fucking explain while I'm still listening," I grumbled. She muttered something, shaking her head, then grabbed her phone. I started eating the toast she'd handed to me as she handed it to me, a news article displayed on it.
"Nine Teens Found Dead in Fire." I tried to give her phone back, not understanding why it mattered. Fires happen, that isn't exactly new, right?
"Just read it, dumbass." I sigh and scroll down.
"Last night, nine teens were found dead in a burning house in Jacksonville, Florida." The fire was nearby. I kept scrolling. "In what appeared to be a party that got out of hand, nine teens, eight men and one woman, were found." The article then listed the names of the people last night. A chill went down my spine as I continued to read. "Judging from the apparent absence of struggle to get away from the fire, officials say they might have been killed by something else."
I shut my eyes and handed the phone back to Ari. "I would've died if I'd stayed." I laughed a bit. It didn't seem real. Nine of my friends, some who I'd known since we were shitting our pants, died last night. If only that girl who dared me to leave had left, too. Then it hit me. The article didn't mention her.
I got up and went to my room, leaving a half-finished slice of toast on the counter, head pounding more aggressively than before. I needed to lay down.
My phone, which lay charging on my nightstand, had two notifications from her. Feeling sickened, I read them.
"You seemed nice enough. Sorry." "Keep this between us, Jacob." | As soon as I heard the news, I was shocked but also relieved I didn't, well, die. I thought it was a weird coincidence that she didn't die. I was glad that she saved me, even though she didn't really mean to.
I knew her. We were actually becoming friends actually. Her name was Emily, we have classes together, we have for a long time, but it was only this year we started talking. She was sweet and kind, and maybe just a little clingy, but she didn't have many friends so I guess it was because of that. We got really close really fast, as it seemed like we both joined allot of the same things.
Er, actually, now that I think about this... Allot of people I know have been dieing or disappearing. Not my family, just my friends. It's... Really hurting me. Emily has been there for me though. She's a really good friend.
She came to visit me today. She bought some cake to comfort me. Now we're on the couch, me eating cake as she sits next to me. We're watching tv as we chat. I start to feel a bit drowsy, but I don't pay much attention to it. It grows though, along with tiredness. It soon came a struggle to stay awake. I look over at Emily, who's smiles, placing a hand on by cheek.
"Goodnight, darling..."
With that, the world fades to black. | 2019-11-23T18:24:32 | 2019-11-23T17:41:08 | 118 | 51 |
[WP] As a Grim Reaper, you have the ability to see numbers floating above every individual's head, counting down the days they have left to live. However, you one day come across a young girl whose number is actually in the negative. | The days become monotonous after a while. Crying, screaming, even quiet resignation...the spectrum of human emotion when they face their ends is vast and varied, but only so few ever have anything interesting to say about it.
The numbers run through my head, I've memorized the calendar and now the numbers run. I can tell the date of a person's death, no matter how many thousands of numbers float above their head, down to the minute.
...I met Alicia as she entered the emergency room, hand in hand with her mother.
"Mommy! I'm okay, really!! I just got dizzy!" She whines, slouching but not resisting her mother's gentle tugging.
"I know, sweetie, but I just want to make sure," her mother says with a slight but mildly worried smile, checking in her daughter at the desk.
The numbers above Alicia's head are slowly ticking away. The longer she's alive, the fewer days she has left. I've seen it before, the closer someone is to a accident, closer to an infectious sick person, their numbers wind downwards, sometimes with blinding speed, and Alicia is no different.
There is something vastly wrong with her, and she has no idea. I move to sit across from her mother, at Alicia's left side as I wait.
The doctor sees to her quickly. It doesn't slow the numbers.
They put her through an xray and a cat scan. It doesn't slow her numbers.
They start taking blood for more tests, and by then, fve hours have passed. Alicia's numbers are nearly up. She's gotten pale, sweaty. Shes stopped complaining about the needles and starts complaining about how her skin hurts. She cant articulate what shes feeling. Shes getting scared and she just wants to go home.
The numbers are almost at zero, and I reach for her hand.
Someone else's takes her palm before I can.
Another little girl, Alicia's exact and identical mirror reflection sits on her bed, and Alicia's numbers start to run into the negative.
She looks at Alicia, reaching to brush away her tears, but her hand merely sinks into her cheek. "Cold..." Alica says softly. "Mommy, I'm cold..."
"I'll go get you another blanket, sweet heart," her mother says softly, standing.
*"This happened to me too,"* the identical girl said softly. *"The doctors weren't fast enough, they're still not fast enough."*
**"Your sister?"** I ask.
*"My twin,"* she affirms, looking up at me with her sisters hand tightly held. *"I'm Katie."*
**"You didnt get very far, did you?"** I observe. She is wearing the same clothes Alicia waa, down to her tight braids with the butterfly clips. This was a spirit, bound to alicia and actively copying her.
She smiled softly, laughing bitterly. *"No. I died five minutes after I was born. Alicia doesn't know I even existed."*
**"Then why do you protect her so?"**
*"I didnt get to live, and she's only barely started to,"* Katie says quietly. *"So...please, can you hold off for a little bit? Just a small extention..."*
I sigh deeply, looking at the pair. **"...This usually requires a game, you know. And it's usually the dead themselves that are doing the bargaining."**
She laughs. *"Is that a yes?"*
I sit back down, and Alicia's number slowly keeps going into the negative. **"I guess it is."**
Two more hours pass, and Alicia is being rolled into a surgery room with Katie by her side. They've found out what's wrong, and are going in to correct it. Alicia's blood isn't clotting, it cant clot at all, and she has internal bleeding from an accident three days prior.
As she passes the threshold of the Operating Room, her numbers start going back up from the negative.
Alicia is going to have a fair few decades before she can meet Katie again. | It wasn't unusual. It was as artifical yet as normal as seeing humans coat their lives in the death of trees and the ancient remains of life. The Reaper watched the child's chest rise and fall. The beeps and monitors keeping her alive. Her brain was vacant, soul trapped inside. It appeared uncomfortable, if her body was able to interpret discomfort.
The Reaper hovered at the girl's bed. Though it was rare to come face to face with a tormented soul, the little girl's life force gushed out of her chest, her glowing soul form staring at The Reaper with discontent.
"Are you God?" The little girl said, moving beside The Reaper.
"I am Death," The Reaper replied. The girl's eyes watered and pearl-shaped light orbs tumbled down, spilling and rolling onto the floor. The girl's soul was pure and untainted.
Behind the two, the door opened and the girl collapsed onto the ground when her grief-stricken parents came inside followed by a doctor.
The girl was lifted into The Reaper's arms in silence.
"I'm afraid the chance of Irina gaining consciousness has fallen. We were hoping for good news but, at this point, I would advise there isn't much chance for your daughter. I am very, very sorry to have to announce this news to you."
"But she's my baby girl," Irina's mother sobbed, falling into the arms of her husband.
"Are you sure, doctor?" Irina's father said, his expression stoic.
Irina reached out to her mother and whispered for her tears to stop. The Reaper said nothing at the unfolding scene. The loss of life was tragic for all, but as natural as gaining life.
"I'm afraid so," the doctor said.
"So do we... do we turn off her support, is that it now?" Irina's father said, his voice cracking. It was obvious he was struggling to speak.
The Reaper paused twice with the click of his bony fingers. Irina had begun to ascend. Her pain in seeing her parents had become unbearable.
"Shall we step outside?" The Reaper smiled, taking Irina though the walls outside. The two floated until they reached the fountain in front of the hospital. The Reaper sat Irina down onto the fountain edge, her orbs of tears still trickling out.
Time resumed again. The Reaper patted the young soul on her head and watched her form become brighter and brighter, her image a ghost. She looked up at him one final time and disappeared from Earth.
The Reaper went back inside the building, as was his duty. There were many more souls inside that were soon to depart. | 2018-05-23T09:41:27 | 2018-05-23T05:51:54 | 83 | 45 |
[WP] Pinocchio is able to create infinite wood by lying constantly. He sacrifices his lifetime by telling falsehoods nonstop in order to feed the hungry and reduce scarcity. The Pinocchio tree has been growing for 500 years, some people question what is really underground. | It was easy at first. "I'm a potato". "The Moon belongs to Spain". "There's no such thing as a horse". An endless stream of petty falsehoods, easy to churn out as often as you want. The tree grew eternally, and with it grew a new age. Infinite energy, if you just kept burning the wood- with each new lie, the tree grew instantly. Humanity, ever resourceful, began to use it to bring warmth and production at unheard of levels.
And then the petty lies stopped working. Over-saturated, he supposed.
He went onto more significant ones- "You can see the great wall of china from orbit", "You swallow 5 spiders a year." "You need to drink 8 litres of water a day". Bigger lies, more likely to fool someone, maybe cause some minor worry or inconvenience. But still, ultimately, harmless. And old wives had made enough to keep this going for a long time. The tree kept growing, and the world kept developing. No more hunger. No more homelessness. Endless energy made a lot of things easier.
Not for him, of course.
He was still trapped in the dark, endlessly cut apart and regrown. The pain and the helplessness was near unbearable, but what could he do? Doom the world? He stayed, and he wasn't surprised when the minor lies stopped counting.
So he got worse. Slander and libel. Lies against nations and races. Deadly advice and fearmongering. The kind of lies that ruined lives, that killed and destroyed, that started wars and worse. Terrible lies. The tree kept going, higher and higher, and the world grew more and more dependent on it. Now, if it was taken away, the world would collapse.
What could he do?
He lay, immobile in the darkness, a wooden mind filled with splintered thoughts. He had to ignore his own misery and think- what to do when the worst lies stopped working? He had to save the world. He couldn't let it collapse.
What was the biggest lie he could tell?
He thought for a minute, helpless and tortured in the dark.
"I'm glad the blue fairy brought me to life."
"I never wanted to be a real boy anyway."
"I still think it's worth it."
Above, the tree grew a little bit more. | They say that if you press your ears to the ground and hold your breath, you will hear a faint murmur. So soft and muffled is this sound that most will dismiss it as a shifting of the earth, a strange amalgamation of the clicking of beetle legs and the footsteps of soldier ants. The brain tricking itself into hearing whispers in the soil. Perhaps this is true. We grown-upslf the village have our stories. And the children of the village have theirs.
If you tell a child that the tree cannot speak, they will give you a pitiable look and shake their heads. They have no doubts. They know what they hear. The tree speaks. And what it says, over and over, from sun-up to sun-down, is this-
"I AM a real boy. I AM a real boy..." | 2021-12-05T11:38:18 | 2021-12-05T06:31:34 | 634 | 416 |
[WP] You are secretly the richest person in the world. But to avoid suspicion of having so much money, you decide to work a normal office job. One day, your boss fires you. But what he didn't realise... Was how incredibly petty you are, and the lengths you will go to get back at him.
Damn, I came up with this idea while I was waking my dog this morning, wrote it down, then went to school and forgot all about it, I cant believe this post blew up the way it did, and I am very thankful for everyone who commented and especially for giving gold 👍 | I felt the painful glare of the computer screen attacking my eyes as I stared at it for a second too long. Trying to not breathe a single whiff of Mr. Taggart-call-me-Tag's cheap musky cologne, while the sticky heat from his sweaty, stubby fingers made their way across my shoulder blades in what I'm sure was supposed to be an inviting caress, rather than a repulsive accost.
"You see, Lucy, there are perks that come with my new promotion. Firing discretion is one of them. Now I know you pretty broads don't understand the big words, so lemme explain it to you plain: I. Own. Your. Job." Each of those last four words was punctuated by a gummy thumb rub. "So go make me a coffee, Lucy, two sugars, one cream. And put a little sway on your way there. You know I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go." He chuckled at what he surely though was original wit.
"No" I stated resolutely. "Get it yourself." As I pushed my chair back to force him out of my personal space.
"Oh, Lucy. You're such a tease, you know." He said, becoming redder and sweatier. "You see, I'm just a nice guy throwing a fat girl a bone. You're not hot enough to be such a bitch. So either go get me a coffee, or go get a box for your things.", the smug bastard said, showing nicotine-stained teeth as his foul smelling spittle landed on my cheek.
"Get out of my way" I said coldly,as I stood up, towering more that a foot over his balding head. I made up my mind in that instant that I was done pretending to be normal, "one of them." I was not. He had just won a first row seat to see how much more of a bitch I could be.
"I'm sure you last paycheck will be ready for you to pick up in about a month or two".
"Keep it" I said without turning back, as I applied my custom color Guerlain KissKiss Diamond Edition lipstick, a plan already forming in my mind.
I got home a little after lunch and immediately started to work on fine-tuning even the most miniscule detail of his future destruction. This was now my full time occupation.
It was well after sunrise when my scheme was ready for execution. Operation Morningstar was a go.
A few hours and several phone calls later, I got a text message from a blocked number with just three words: " It is done."
The next day, an aunt he hadn't known existed, and who conveniently enough, had no other relatives, died and left him an inheritance. Not just a vase or a couch, either. Ten million dollars after tax.
I spent the next months watching his life implode from all fronts.
Sometimes it is more fun to watch them destroy themselves.
I watched him lose everyone who ever cared about him by showing his true self. It's funny how people with inferiority complexes will treat others as inferiors the instant they come in contact with a little money.
I watched him start failed venture after failed venture. I watched him believe his money would last forever. That's why I had settled on that amount. It was enough to turn his life around, but not enough to buy him a permanent respite from any of his problems. I was there, observing when he surrounded himself with sycophants and supplicants, waiting for morsels to fall of his plate. I watched him fall into vices. I watched him fall into debt.
Then finally, I watched him lose it all.
On the anniversary of our last encounter, he was called into the office of his bank account manager to discuss a payment plan for his ever growing debt. I was in a back room, waiting for my cue. Watching one last time.
I saw on the monitor in front of me a gaunt, twitchy, shadow of a man who somehow still had not been humbled.
"Would you like to meet your benefactor?"
"Benefactor?"
"Yes, the person who gifted the ten millions."
"No one gifted me my money. It was family money" he said sneering in a petulant manner.
"It was family money, Sir. But unfortunately just not your family's. The money gifted to you came from a family whose fortune is, to put it plainly, older than dirt." Said the banker in his calm manner.
How right he was. How very *exactly* right he was.
This was my cue. I stepped into the office and cleared my throat.
"Good evening, Mr. Taggart."
His head whipped around while his eyes opened wide with surprise.
"L-L-Lucy?" He stammered.
"Call me Lucifer."
| “You’re fired.”
The words burned my ears as they turned red with embarrassment. Of course I didn’t need this job, but it really hits you right in the pride to be fired from a stupid office position. And for something as trivial as “taking too much time for lunch”, which I only did because some asshole caused a pile up right down the street last Tuesday. It was on the news and everything, but Jim, my boss, still blamed me. Apparently I should have just left my car in traffic and walked back to the office or something.
I think he’s had it out for me since the beginning. That sleazeball tried to put the moves on me my first day, but I just ignored him without trying to be overly rude. After he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he had been trying to find an excuse to get me out of here. The whole office was filled with women and spineless men and he wasn’t a fan of people who didn’t kiss his ass. I mostly just kept the job because it was easy.
What Jim doesn’t doesn’t know is I’ve had it out for him too. As I packed up my stuff from my desk, my phone buzzed. It was Emilio, my PI on retainer. He watched my back for the people who wanted to steal my money. Nobody knew -I- had it, but they did know about Marceline Jovovich. That’s the name I use when I wanted to purchase anything that might arouse suspicion of nice, mousy Jane McFarlin. That’s not my real name either, but it’s what everyone here knows me as. Marceline was also the face that made me the money I have today. It’s not exactly legal, what I do, but it sure it fun.
Emilio’s text read, “I found something you might want to see.” Underneath was a picture of a first draft of a news article. It wasn’t in a newspaper, just on the design layout. It read:
LOCAL MAN ACCUSED OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT ON MULTIPLE EMPLOYEES FOUND GUILTY, FINED $5000
I chuckled to myself. Bingo. We had been trying to find dirt on Jim for a while now and this seems like it was buried pretty deep. No doubt he paid more to get it covered up so his business didn’t go down the drain. I never saw it on the local news, so I guess it didn’t get any further than this draft. I don’t think Jim is the violent type, but I do wonder what happened to the person who was writing this article.
I finished packing up my stuff and walked down to my car, giving Jim the nastiest glare I could muster on the way out. The rest of my coworkers were giving me pity looks, but I just smiled and got out of there as fast as possible. When I got to my busted up VW bug, I put the box in the front seat and texted Emilio back.
“Send it.”
When I woke up the next morning, I turned on the TV to find Jim’s face plastered all over the news. Emilio had even located his victims and convinced them to talk. We could pay them more than Jim ever could. As I watched the news unfold, I decided that maybe this would be as good a time as any to take a vacation.
Karma is delicious.
| 2019-03-04T09:27:11 | 2019-03-04T09:05:16 | 182 | 133 |
[WP] Humanity is on the verge of extrasolar colonization when an alien race reveals to us that we are “carriers” of an incurable virus that could wipe out life in the universe if it ever spread beyond our solar system. | It had taken us millions of years to evolve to the point that the cosmos could be considered, and several thousand after that before we could explore.
Then, we stagnated.
It has always been the curse of man that each strives in his own way to achieve greatness, even at the cost of his brethren. Conquest was our birthright, whether personal, or in the name of God, king, country, or family.
And so we fought. Even as we became aware of the infinite possibilities of worlds beyond, we squabbled over the scraps that remained on good old Earth. Because, well, there’s no place like home, right?
We couldn’t stay that way forever, and we didn’t.
One of the greatest things about war is that the ones who really love it are often the ones most willing to die for it, so, eventually, those who tired of it outnumbered the rest. Over time, we became one people. We united under the common cause of seeing what there was to see, knowing what there was to know, and going wherever our ability could take us. It was a powerful feeling, driven by that curse of Aspiration.
The Ark project was a triumph of humankind unlike any before seen. Capable of housing, transporting and sustaining millions of passengers each, Ark ships were the pinnacle of human engineering, and would be crewed by an entire generation of humans, prepared from the first to be members of our first Interstellar Fleet. We would not go out into the ether unprepared.
The terrifying things is, they were waiting for us.
Where they came from, we still don’t know. Why they allowed us to advance so far, we didn’t ask. But they were waiting, and with a simple command.
“None Shall Pass!”
Delivered via radio broadcast, it was inelegant and outdated, but effective nonetheless. The voice was booming and gravelly, and spoke in a long abandoned dialect. Our historians said it was a snippet from an ancient film, and so they were tasked with first contact. Back and forth with the unseen entity, they endeavored to decipher messages strung together from scraps of ancient popular culture.
Hours became days, and days became weeks, but we remained patiently at the edge of the solar system that had nurtured our need to explore. When compared to millennia, what were mere months?
I cannot be sure what we expected. Their initial message seemed quite clear. Perhaps it was the optimism of common purpose that had suffused our people. Perhaps it was a new naivete born of giddy excitement at our successes. In any case, we were not ready for an explicit denial of our entrance onto the grand stage of the wider universe.
We were contagious. A potential patient zero that would bring an end to all sentient life in the known universe. A “carrier” of some dreaded infection.
We strove to understand what we carried. We desired knowledge of how to eliminate it. We had learned long ago what doom could befall those who did not heed such warnings, and we would not venture forth until we could be certain that our voyage was without ill consequence for our interstellar neighbors.
In the end, we could reach no accord, for our sickness was the burden of ambition. The inability to be satisfied. The constant need to do and be better than we have ever done or been. Our system was not enough, nor would our galaxy be. We would be as a plague, unstoppable for our ability to breed and adapt. What’s worse, we might contaminate others, might deliver our zeal for exploring the unknown onto the unsuspecting.
We were told to go home. We were told that we must contain ourselves, for the good of all.
As one, we wept. We could not deny that their message rang true. We had experienced all of the tragedy and torment and violence that accompanied our disease. We had nearly withered and died for it.
But, we also knew the triumph of achievement-- knew the absolute beauty of attaining that which none else had.
We wept not for ourselves.
We wept for them...
*...and accelerated forward into the darkness.*
| "Wait."
"What?"
Verenex turns to look at me. In a human it would be inquisitive. The Moljuk are humanoid in appearance, but their facial features and multiple jointed arms confuse the issue.
"What is it, Elisha?"
The Moljuk is within his containment apparatus, which while more skintight than it's earth counterpart is still rather restrictive. He cannot risk catching the virus.
"Have we considered having Earthlings look for similarities between the virus and one of our own cured diseases?"
Verenex slowly blinks his eyes. The upward movement of his eyelid is still a little bit disconcerting.
"We do not even have a word for it in your earth tongue. The description of it's symptoms is so terrible it is a nighttime story for children, to stop them from running about with the Ummulut."
"Yes. But have we considered looking into it? It isn't like Brian or I will die from it, considering we're evidently carriers."
The Moljuk pauses, considering.
"Very well. But I warn you - the description is likely to be disturbing. You might not sleep for-"
"Verenex."
"If you say so. It begins quietly, insidiously. A slight fever, tiredness. A minor headache. But soon, the terror begins. Over five to ten cycles - approximately equal to your earth days - it begins to form small scabbing blisters, each of which itches incessantly. By the end of the ten cycles, the virus has run it course and the being has expired. It is truly horrific!"
"Wait. Is that all of the symptoms?"
"Yes! It is terrifying, it destroys entire planets if we are unable to contain it!"
"Verenex."
"It is like a natural disaster! Earthquakes! Floods!"
"Verenex."
"The lament of women and children resounds as fathers and husbands fall to it's insidious clutches!"
"Verenex."
"Death, everywhere in the streets! Death! Her embrace comes for all!"
"VERENEX!"
"DEA- Sorry, Elisha. I got slightly carried away there."
"Verenex. We have a name for this virus."
"You do? How could you possibly have survived it's active version?"
"We've done better than survive it. We have a human vaccine for it! Maybe, if your scientists work with ours towards a more universal cure, we can wipe it out for good!"
"You have a name for it? What do you call it?"
"I'll have to take a look at it to know for sure, but I believe we call it... Chickenpox." | 2016-05-02T08:06:31 | 2016-05-02T07:02:48 | 63 | 21 |
[WP] A boy asks a girl out. It's high school. It's awkward. Narrate it from the point of view of a nature documentary. | Now, here we see a school of adolescent humans gathering inside a sort of mega-structure, built to house several hundred of this particular species. From what we can gather based on recent studies we believe this is a type of breeding ground. Typically they live in smaller, more cramped domiciles with their parents and siblings. For a short time each day, the young venture out into this mass of what is called testosterone and estrogen, important hormones in humans for development and reproduction.
We've managed to place a hidden camera inside one of the hallways where we have captured an interaction between a male and female. The male is clearly dressed in colorful plumage, this has aided him in gaining the female's attention. A burly specimen, this male has used what we believe to be a mix of saliva and water to coat his hair which gives it the shine and reflection of built-in artificial lighting. This can signal to others he is ready and looking. The female is a beautiful, prime candidate for mating. Young, likely in heat, as humans go into heat quite often at about once per month, and has a different mix of traits than this male. This different set of physical traits is good for the gene pool and helps to bring diversity to the colony.
Keep in mind, while they may meet in this large gathering place, they typically won't mate here. Adolescent humans prefer back rooms and hidden places to do their reproducing, most of the time bringing one to the other's home. While young, we do find that humans mate in other places. Hidden areas of this same building, or even at night in the open. Some riskier males will trespass on other's territory bringing their females to breed, as they don't like to be around their parents while doing the deed. This trend tends to die down as the humans age.
Ooh, just now the male has stepped in front of the female, blocking her path. If she is receptive she will stop, if she isn't liking his decorative wear she will step to the side and pass. The male appears to use a hand to wave her down.
She stopped.
Her eyes meet her feet as she shifts her weight to each side nervously. Eye contact is important for finding a mate. The male seems to be moving his head from side to side trying to catch her gaze. The male is speaking. His voice seems to be unsteady, breaking in different tones as he goes on. Whether this is intended or not is unknown, but seems to be common among this age group. The female is responding in a higher, almost squeaky tone. This seems to be a positive interaction as both their chests convulse violently, letting loud bursts of noise and air into the corridor at each other. This is a perfect reaction and bodes well for the male's chances.
The male looks back to a bigger group of males who appear to be watching the interaction as well. The males nod their heads excitedly. This encourages the lone male to keep at it.
The female continues to speak in short chirps, getting quieter as the interaction continues. The male places a hand on his head, ruffling his hair and bringing attention to his face. Both bare their teeth once more. Not in a typical intimidating fashion, this show of teeth is accompanied with the short bursts of noise they bark at each other after speaking.
The female appears to be turning to the side, getting ready to leave. This isn't good. If the male doesn't act fast it could be the end of his chances with this one. He lifts up a hand, almost whispering. This appears to put the female on her toes, clutching a bundle of tree shavings to her chest. She jumps up and down. It appears she is receptive to his offer.
She walks off for now, but they have agreed on a place to meet at another time. We know this as we have observed it after this type of behavior. We have the female tagged so we will come back later when she meets this male in their designated mating spot. The male has been standing still, almost frozen. Now that the female is out of sight this male has both hands in the air jumping back to the other males to brag of his success. The other males jump in the same fashion to greet him.
We go to another camera around the corner where the female has a similar group, only females. They chirp at each other hurriedly and shuffle their feet. Surely they have agreed to mate.
As a side note, even as often as females go into heat and the frequency which humans mate, sometimes several times a day and with different partners, it appears that only a very, very small percentage of mating results in offspring. We believe that with the chances of producing children being infinitesimally small, this could be the reason we see humans constantly mating. All of their efforts throughout their entire life seems to be for the sole purpose of mating furiously and as often as possible.
Thank you for joining us on Mammal Watch. We'll be right back after these messages to bring you the fascinating tale of the fully grown, adult human, and try to find the answer to why the vast majority seem to only wake up to go to one destination and back home their entire lives. | And here we see the first of several stages of mating rituals in the humans.
The first is often the most unsuccesful in creating long term relations, yet mostly serves as practice for future, more significant rituals. Perhaps ironically, this first mating ritual is more complicated than any of the others, often occurring at the age of 16.
Ah. Here we see a lone male approach a female. It is often the male that begins the ritual, despite both parties equally capable of feeling emotion, and this one knows his trade. He stands up straight, walking with a confident swagger a slight smile playing across his lips. It is a delicate balance, the beginning of this ritual, and the most crucial - for if the initial approach fails, the ritual stops before it can even be started.
Nevertheless, this quite adept male approaches the female in his buttoned down shirt and well groomed hair, putting him miles ahead of the rest of his unshaved, ungroomed pack. He has been watching the female for a while now, has even conversed with her, and knows when she is normally without her pack, for normally females of this age travel together in order to further intimidate males, such that only the most confident may dare approach, naturally making mates of a higher quality.
The approach is something to marvel at, truly. Light on his feet, but no so light as to be malicious he walks up behind her taps the female on the shoulder. She whirls around, her mouth an O of surprise. The male apologizes, insisting he didn’t mean to startle her, and the female smiles, understanding. The two talk for a bit of casual, superficial things. This is the most important part of the dance, the feigning disinterest. They both know there is only one reason the male would seek out the female in such a fashion, yet they do not bring it up. They talk of sports, of class, of other males and females. In fact, the male says goodbye and turns to leave. Now the female frowns, confused, but at the last moment the male asks the question. Done in such a way as it were an afterthought, that he had not initiated the whole conversation with that in mind.
The female smiles and, nonchalantly, says why not, as if she were merely not opposed to the idea when in reality she is delighted.
Both walk away, jubilant, blissfully unaware of the other’s desire.
***
However, this is an ideal ritual, where the approach, the evasion, the time, the look are all executed with almost utmost perfection.
But most such rituals are doomed to failure due to mishaps, often on the male side. Recall, that it is the male who propositions, and thus he has more room for mistakes.
Let’s take another male. Already we see the differences from the first. His hands are rubbing together in nervousness, his skin is oily, his air unkempt. And perhaps worst of all he has worn an attire known as Cargo Shorts. Utter abominations sure to repel not only females, but male compatriots.
He approaches the female in the height of her power, surrounded by her pack members. He walks, lumbering as he does, so the entire pack stares at him for 30 seconds are so until he finally reaches them.
His face red he does not banter or feign disinterest, no, he just asks the question. The female smiles and opens her mouth to answer, but before she can her pack howls in laughter. The female freezes, and after a moment’s hesitation,forces herself to chuckle. The pack’s wishes must be respected.
The male, dejected, sulks away.
| 2017-04-04T06:32:25 | 2017-04-04T06:32:12 | 373 | 15 |
[WP] "I wish for more wishes". "THAT IS AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish for more genies". "THAT IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish those rules did not exist". The genie warps in a humongous book and flips to a page before smugly saying "THAT TOO IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". | After much consideration the child contemplated the now empty, shiny artifact in front of him, gently buffed cleaner in one spot, and mulled over how to get around an impasse created by djinn with lawyer's souls. "Okay, I wish to be recreated into a supernatural human being of such considerable power, wealth, intelligence, security and resources in my perpetually free, unharrassed, untaxed, and unincumbered state that no genuine desire of my heart could ever truly be outside of my grasp within my considerably long and healthy lifetime. That was One sentence expressing one complete and single wish as a single stream of thought designed to produce one absolute, positive solitary outcome. Dodge that you wily spirit!"
The genie leafed through the official binding arbitration scroll and grunted several times. The caveat at the end of his list did in fact seem to be an expression of a single desired state and therefore could in fact technically be designated one wish no matter how badly the djinn wanted to weasel out of the commitment by declaring the missive as a combination of wishes. "Fine" he bellowed: "From this day forward you shall be know as Jeff Bezos".
Twenty-six months later the richest teenager in the world was found dead on Mars of radiation poisoning, having previously been en route in a spacecraft of his own design when a massive cosmic X-ray burst happened to slam into the boy's vehicle, utterly cooking him through and through and totally devastating his DNA as the high-velocity particles shredded his body's matter like a shotgun blast through a wad of cotton candy. Sitting next to him on a red sand dune was a forlorn genie with his face in his hands muttering to himself about how the hell he was ever going to deal with another vast time stretch stranded in *yet another damned desert* as he waited to be truly set free. The djinn sighed and let out a final testimony: "Long and healthy are really kind of a matter of perspective when you're an astronaut, kid." Then in the distance on a pale blue dot just above the horizon the genie sensed the temperature suddenly rise and then plummet as a nuclear war broke out between old rivals. Slowly the genie stood up, brushed the rusty dirt from his pantaloons and walked back to his lamp, prepared to get comfortable for a while. | Human Errors in Question [Poem]
——————————————
*said the genie but I replied*
But what about the book and the rules?
What about freeing you?
If there are so many rules. What’s the point of being a genie? In the first place and why would any of it matter? Who even made the rules in the first place, you or some other genie? For if your the only genie it must mean that you had to
make other genies before so who wrote the other rules otherwise? Why are you even a genie in the first place? Now let me think I wish everything I say to be straightforward and simple.
*snap*
Oh that was fast… wait a
*the genie laughs*
I wish for my words to never ever end at any circumstances
*snap*
You little genie I wish I never had met you and we could redo this from the the top
*snap* | 2022-01-04T00:47:44 | 2022-01-03T23:28:03 | 77 | 13 |
[WP] You've been sentenced to 400 years for multiple murders. It's been 399 years and your jailers are starting to get nervous. | The door creaked ajar slowly, the bearded man sneaking his head around the frame and peeking inside to see me. Upon making eye contact he quickly looked away, his lip arched and his face scrunched as he made his way inside with a platter of food in hand. I studied him from between the bars of my cell. I’d never seen this one before. Likely part of the reason why he was so nervous. But I felt as though there was somehow a relationship already built between us by the way he refused to look at me.
His breathing was erratic and he held the food far away from his body, as though there was something noxious within. He placed it on the floor ahead of my cell and kicked it lightly though the opening, the tray scraping to a halt halfway within my space. I suddenly realized where the familiarity was stemming from.
“Little Ambrose?” I asked. The way his body tensed up let me know I was immediately right.
“H— how do you know my name?” he asked.
“How could I forget old man Fischer! Leon was the most respected guard in this place!” I said, beaming at the man.
“You mean… my great grandad? You knew him?” Ambrose asked, his anxiety flowing to curiosity.
“That’s right. He talked about you day and night before he retired. How is he these days?” I asked, dragging the plate inside and taking a bite of today’s ration of stale bread.
“He’s dead,” Ambrose informed, awkwardly.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked with my mouth full. “How long’s he been doing that?”
“Uhmmm,” Ambrose stumbled at my phrasing. “At least 30 years now.”
“Seems like everyone gets up to that eventually,” I nodded.
He tilted his head to one side, consternation ablaze in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but it hung loosely.
“You ever hear about me from Leon?” I asked, curious, moving on to the brown mush in my tray that was allegedly ‘peas.’
“Maybe. I was pretty young, so I don’t remember,” he answered.
“What about any of the other Fletcher boys? Ben or Jonas say anything?”
Ambrose's eye twinged at the mention of his father and grandfather so casually. He swallowed and pressed on.
“Yeah, Grandpa Ben told us that you killed eighty people over the course of three years,” Ambrose said, his fear had been now fully replaced by an eagerness to know more.
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t!” I chuckled, pointing around my cell with my brown-stained plastic spoon. He didn’t react to my cavalier tone like most other guards.
“He also said you never denied any of the killings attributed to you. You immediately plead guilty,” Ambrose continued.
“Did I?” I said, shrugging. “It’s been a few years, I stopped keeping track of my case a few decades back. I’m just here to do my time.”
“That was the last thing he mentioned. That you didn’t age. That even with years left on your sentence, you never seemed to care much about what remained.”
I shrugged again, taking another bite of ‘peas’ that tasted something like melted meatloaf. He spun his hands forward, trying to get me to say more, but I shrugged again.
“How are you alive?” he asked. “You look younger than me!”
“Well, no one tried to kill me,” I pointed out. “Well, except for that first roommate who didn’t like that I murdered his wife. And also the warden who swore he would outlive me and threw me into this solitary about a hundred and six years ago. But otherwise, no killing attempts.”
“But... you were supposed to die! Of old age!” Ambrose said, exasperated.
“That could still happen,” I agreed.
“How are you still alive!?” he repeated.
“Look, I did my time. I’m just looking forward to living the rest of my life on the outside world and see everything I missed in the time I’ve been gone. Haven’t I been the paragon of a prisoner in the meantime? Never starting fights and the utmost respect given to my jailers?” I asked sincerely.
“I suppose,” Ambrose said, recalling the stories his grandfather told him. “Someone like you shouldn’t be held behind bars if they have been rehabilitated.”
“Exactly. I can’t wait to see what new technologies lay out there to kill people these days,” I said, finishing my meal and kicking the tray back to his feet.
Ambrose stared numbly.
“What’s that look?” I asked. “I didn’t say I was going to kill anyone!”
“Why would you want to know about new technologies that have the potential to kill people?” he asked.
“Any number of reasons,” I shrugged. “Maybe I wanna write a book about someone that’s been biding his time for four centuries and wants to take out as many lives as he can before being sent back into prison and waiting out his sentence again, outliving anyone that would claim he’s a terrible monster.”
Ambrose returned silence once more, a shudder in his breath.
“I think it’d be a good book,” I said sarcastically.
“Are you kidding with me right now?” Ambrose asked, slight panic in his voice.
I shrugged.
"Are you kidding with me or not!?" he demanded.
"Don't you have other prisoners to get to?" I asked, turning my back on him.
I heard the shaky scrape of the tray as he quickly stumbled away from my cell. In this, he was equivalent to the other guards, running away from me as fast as the rest after I had messed with them.
And they would never know whether I was telling the truth or not.
_________
r/Nazer_the_Lazer | There wasn't anything special for his last day served. It was the same ole routine. Same as it had ever been, for all previous 145,999 days. No breaks in between.
All of the prisoners were out underneath the harsh sun, hammering away at a railroad.
"Hey, nimrod, line it up, yeah?" a fellow prisoner said.
Nimrod looked down at the rail, and saw that he was about to hammer a spike in the wrong place. "My bad," he said, bending forward to grab the spike. Every day, his bones creaked and cracked. Things were no different today. "You know, today's my last day," he said.
"Oh yeah?" the prisoner to his left said, followed with a big *HUFF* as he brought his hammer down onto his spike. Sparks flew from the spike, lighting the irises of Nimrod's eyes.
"Finally getting out of all of this, very nice," another prisoner said as he was lining up his railroad spike.
"Yeah," Nimrod said, picking his hammer up, slinging it over his shoulder, prepping himself to raise it and bring it down. There were artificial blisters on his hands. They sent messages to his brain that spoke the word **pain**, but Nimrod had been here for so long, he didn't exactly remember what that word meant anymore.
As a matter of fact, he didn't really remember much of anything anymore. He couldn't even remember his own name.
A few other prisoners had called him Nimrod, and well, that just stuck.
He pulled his hammer back and swung it back down onto the spike, and missed.
"Get it together, nimrod," one of the jailers said. He was a burly man standing to the side of the railroad, a shotgun slung over his shoulder. In all of his years on this railroad, Nimrod had only seen the jailer use it once. A prisoner had finally lost his mind, toiling away on the railroad, and decided to make a break for it. Where he had planned to go, no one really knew.
Perhaps the poor soul had forgotten that there wasn't any escaping this simulation.
The officer unslung the shotgun from his shoulder, took aim, and fired, blasting the escapee clean in half.
Nimrod didn't remember much nowadays, but he did remember the sound of the prisoner, laying in the grass, gurgling on his own blood, and the officer approaching the mess and uttering the words, "Pull yourself together."
The man who had tried to make his escape crawled on the grass, towards his separated lower half, grabbed hold of his trousers, and pulled his legs up to his ruined torso. His exposed spine hooked into his hips, and muscles and tendons began reattaching themselves, all the while the man screamed in agony. All of the other prisoners standing at the railway had stopped, listening, watching as the poor soul's body healed itself, sparing no moment of pain. Finally, the man who had been blasted into two pieces was now back together.
"Sit up," the officer said.
The man did so.
"Now, back to the railway."
The man got up onto his feet, rubbing at his stomach, wondering what in the hell had just happened, but not forgetting the pain he had felt. His teeth were chattering.
Thinking about that day made Nimrod's teeth chatter too. Here in the simulation, there was no escape, except for when your time was finally done. And tomorrow, was Nimrod's time. Finally.
***
"What do you mean there is an overflow problem?" a man said, sitting almost alone in an office. The only other person with him was another man, who was hovering over a keyboard.
"Here," the typist said, pointing at a computer screen. On it were thousands of lines of code, and a debugger was currently running through it. Stepping through each instruction. "This guy right here, Joseph Grady."
"What about him?"
"When his prison sentence ends tomorrow, it's going to break the system."
"Why?"
"The overflow problem, I already told you."
"What's going to happen?"
"I have no clue. It could probably break the entire simulated prison system."
"Are you saying that it might fry every single incarcerated person's brain?"
"I don't knoooow," the typist said. "All I know, is *something* is going to happen tomorrow when that value finally rolls over."
"Shit." | 2022-05-19T18:45:23 | 2022-05-19T18:42:42 | 1,136 | 205 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | The cabin was about a half mile outside of town. It had been abandoned, no river or fields nearby to make it worthwhile. It had been an old trapper’s cabin but the game had gone from this area a long time ago. Josef quietly shuffled towards the front door, a small parcel hugged close to his chest.
The door opened before he had even been able to muster the courage to knock. A woman’s voice, strong and even, came through the cracked portal, “What do you want?”
All the conversation starters Josef had planned came out at once, “I need your help. I’m sorry to bother you. I know that you have helped people. My name is Josef. This is my daughter. I’ve heard you know some magic. My daughter is sick, please help—“
“I’m expecting someone, come in, but be quick.” The door opened, a small oil lamp was turned up and the dark cabin brightened noticeably. Josef stepped inside.
“Give her to me.” The woman reached forward, Josef hesitated.
He was here because he was desperate, but it was still hard to trust the old wood’s witch. She had a complicated reputation in town. Healing animals and people, predicting weather, cursing enemies. He was sure some of both the good and bad were rumors, but he had nowhere else to turn. He handed the small bundle over, “Please don’t hurt her.”
The woman frowned. She shook her head and took the baby. She felt its forehead and then took out a small tool from a bag by her side. She stuck it in the poor girls ear, the baby screamed. Josef prayed that he made the right decision, he wanted to run but was too scared he’d be turned into a frog before he got to the door.
“She has a fever. How long has she been sick?”
Josef forgot to answer for a second, he was too busy wondering what flies might taste like, “—Six days, the doctor bled her twice already—“
“Stop that! Don’t do that again, do you promise?”
“Yes Ma’am.” Josef stared at his feet, unable to watch whatever witchcraft this woman might be performing on his only child.
“She has a temperature. I need to go, I don’t have time for this.” The woman glided towards a small cabinet with a curious latch he’d never seen before, she fiddled with the symbols on it before it popped open. He saw a small orange container with a white top. She poured the contents into a small leather pouch.
“These are antibi—these are medicine. Powerful. Do not tell anyone I gave this to you. Three times a day, with her meals. Is she breast feeding?”
“Cows milk, ma’am. My wife, she died in labor.”
Josef could see the sadness in the woman’s eyes, but she moved on quickly. “Boil the milk.”
“Ma’am?”
“Boil the milk. And these pills three times a day until they are all gone. Do you understand?”
“Boiled milk and these pills, three times a day.” Josef had heard the stories, he knew she was crazy, but this was beyond his expectations.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could do more. I shouldn’t even be doing this. I must go. You must go. Good luck.” The woman started pushing him back outside.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Josef paused at the door, he turned around deliberately, “She doesn’t have a name yet. On account of her mother—If you don’t mind, can I ask your name?” Josef thought that maybe an offering would convince the witch to have mercy on his poor daughter.
She hesitated, “Margaret.”
“It’s beautiful. Family name?” Please let me daughter live, Josef thought.
“My grandmother’s name. She said her father got it from an old hermit who saved her life when she was a—It's not important, I have to go.“
“Margaret—Maggie. I hope you’ll get to see little Maggie grow up big and strong.”
A bright light shone in through the window of the cabin. So bright, Josef thought the sun had risen in the middle of the night. The witch didn’t seem startled at all. She sighed and grabbed a small satchel she had next to her chair.
“Unfortunately that won’t be possible. I need to go back to where I came from. You can't tell anyone about what I gave you, not even your daughter once she's older. I need you to go now, quickly.” She stared into Josef’s eyes as if she had more to say, but she just nodded and shuffled towards the backdoor of the cabin. | Yes, Madison came from our village. Well, not originally, she just wandered in one day in the strangest clothes. I was a boy then, and I didn't like playing with the others very much; I liked to poke around at the edges of town, search for elves and the like. It was just good luck I saw her first; Sun knows what Elder Mason would have done if he'd seen a woman wearing pants. And her name, too: she was obviously a daughter, not a son!
I was always so curious then, but she didn't have many answers. I was pretty sure she really didn't know where she was, or how she had come to be in the Kingdom of Hardin - well, that was what it was, in those days.
Fortunately for her, there was no shortage of land. Lord Falcon had called up a lot of men during the last war with the Kingdom of Darian, and of course they stayed together on the battlefield, trying to protect each other, and a wizard put a fireball right in the middle of the bunch from half a league away. So Lord Falcon had no problem with giving her land, as long as he got his forty percent of the harvest, and no one made any fuss about her being unmarried.
She became known as the "village idiot" pretty quickly. She was always coming around, asking the simplest questions about farming. Old Man Crandell thought she was joking at first, when she asked for seeds to plant an onion bush. And she had all sorts of arguments with the healer: everyone was laughing about her idea of boiling bandages before using them, and she kept saying that how we dealt with night soil was "un-sane-I-tarie", which no one could understand.
What really sealed it was when she actually started *arguing with Lord Falcon* during one of his visits! The last time someone had done that, his body had hung over the road for a month. She was saying that there had been no good reason for the war, that his taxes were too high - all of it true, of course, but you didn't say that sort of thing. He just leered at her and rode away.
I didn't see her for a couple of days after that. I was afraid that he'd had her killed, and I went to look for her in the one or two hours I had each day after the work was done. But she came back on the morning of the fourth day, walking slowly and painfully, with her feet unusually far apart. Anyway, after that, she utterly *hated* Lord Falcon, for reasons she would never quite explain.
Around then is also when she started hiding away in her house. My father ordered me not to talk with her, but even then I thought she was interesting. I'd see her go in and out with bags or boxes full of powders, or useless rocks, or charcoal from the charcoal burners out in the forest. After that started, she would not on any account have cooking fires in her house; even on chilly evenings, you would see her starting a fire out in the back, shivering violently. She was no good with fires either. Somehow she never caught sick though.
So being the "village idiot" was probably what kept her alive, actually. She'd made a right mess of her fields, and wouldn't have had enough to get through the winter even before the taxes.
| 2017-09-14T11:14:03 | 2017-09-14T09:12:27 | 114 | 11 |
[WP] You are a cow.
[removed] | ^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?* | Mooooooooooooo, moo. Moooo! Eat grass. Chew, chew. Other cows all around. Grass to chew. Fart. Moooo. Hello cow friend. Hello baby cow. Moo! Take a few steps. More moo. More grass. Chew and eat. Fly on my butt. Tail swat. Fart. Moooooo! Mooooo! Hot sun in the sky. Drink of water. Lay under a tree. Moo. Hot sun going down. Dark night. Back in the barn. Other cows all around. Hello milk cow. Moooo. Sleepy time. | 2017-10-02T06:49:36 | 2017-10-02T06:04:28 | 162 | 17 |
[WP] Satan has a special place in hell for the greatest sinners. To him, the greatest sinners are those who commit acts of petty inconvenience, such as placing the toilet roll the other way round, or playing music through headphones loudly. Today, the greatest sinner of all time is sent Satan's way. | Hell is full of sinners. It’s halls are filled with the souls of murderers, rapists, and pedophiles. Every day, new sinners are welcomed to the fiery pits where they will be tortured through eternity as punishment for their actions.
Satan, the King of Hell, has overseen the arrival of souls to Hell ever since his banishment from Heaven. He knows every type of sinner there is. But today he prepares himself, for he is to welcome the greatest sinner of all: **Janice**
Janice is a Mid-Western woman of 47 years of age. Church goer and leader of her parish’s book club, one would never suspect this meek woman to be considered the greatest sinner of all, but one quick analysis of her life on Earth and one can quickly conclude so.
Janice is a cunt.
She calls her 19 year-old nephew on an almost daily basis to ask ridiculous questions about her computer just because he works at an IT department. Jason has a life to lead, he works full-time and he’s part of a volleyball league in his neighborhood; but Janice does not care; her questions on how to use “the Facebook” are certainly more important and demand Jason’s immediate attention.
Janice enters an elevator and stands in the front by the doors. When the elevator stops and people need to get out, Janice never steps out of the elevator to let people out. If she moves at all, she will try to push herself to the back of the elevator instead; like a shitty, cunty salmon, swimming upstream
Janice *never* knows what she’s ordering. She will wait until she’s at the cash register to read the menu and make a decision. She sees the man behind her, with little time for his work lunch-hour. She does not care. She has questions about the grilled chicken sandwich. They do NOT sell half-sandwiches at McDonalds Janice!!!!
Janice stops at the sidewalk when you’re walking right behind her. Janice blocks both sides of the escalator, so you can’t walk past her. Janice cuts the line to the men’s bathroom because the women’s line was too long. Janice opens the door for you, but only when you’re too far away; she likes to see you run to get to the door
Satan is bursting with excitement. It is a fine day indeed. ***Today is the day that Janice goes to Hell!***
| And now he was exploding with agony. Turns out life had been a dream and this was reality. Every pleasure and pain he'd ever experienced in life had been hazy and fleeting compared to what he felt now.
He was in a void. He couldn't move or scream. The pain was the entirety of his sensorium.
Then there was a voice. It wasn't made of sound, but hatred. "Nuclear weapons, Tom."
He didn't know what to make of that. He ignored it.
The voice blasted inside him, modulating his pain. "NUCLEAR WEAPONS, TOM! THAT'S WHY YOU'RE HERE!"
"I- I don't understand."
"Nuclear weapons. Nuclear energy. Nuclear families. Nuclear power plants. That's why you're here."
"But," he sobbed, "I never had anything to do with anything nucular!"
"IT'S PRONOUNCED NUCLEAR!"
Lesson learned. Not that it mattered now.
| 2016-10-05T12:42:35 | 2016-10-05T11:26:38 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] They laugh as your shot goes wide; Ridiculously so. But you didn't miss. You. NEVER. Miss. You predicted they would dodge any direct strike, so you aimed where they would be a week from now- When they'll never expect it. And though you may lose this battle, the war is already won. | "...Steve, you shot the fucking cow."
The pained cries of the bovine were drowned out by the howling laughter from the Sheriff and his deputies. It was quite impressive that he had managed to round up so many volunteers to face me, but I had killed a lot of men. I probably had dozens and dozens of orphaned children, grieving widows, and avenging brothers that would be more than happy to have the opportunity to kill me. Today, at least 14 had joined the Sheriff.
I had done the quick mental calculations when they had all emerged from the various stores that lined the town's only road. My two 6 shot revolvers had, well, 6 shots. That was 12 dead men. The Sheriff and his deputies made 15 total. Even if I hit every single shot perfectly, that still left 3 men shooting when I ran dry.
So I did what I could do. I shot the cow.
The Sheriff sauntered over and held out his hands. "Give me yer pistols, Steve. We'll throw ya inter the jail, nobody needs to die tonight." He spat a wad of tobacco chew spit on the dirt road between us. "Nobody 'cept that poor cow. Gotta go put her out of her misery, I reckon."
I slowly drew my second revolver, and handed both to the lawman. He held them almost reverently. "These two have killed 56 men over the last 8 years." He put them both in his slung satchel bag. "Mandy! Fred! Come cuff this sumbitch. Throw 'em in the jail."
With that, he turned and walked away, spurs clacking metallically as he strode away. "And somebody call the butcher! Got a big slab o' meat for him to carve."
Six days later, I sat in my cell, awaiting the plan to unfold. The Sheriffs clanky spurs announced his presence as he approached. "Steven, you're gonna hang in the mornin" he said. "Just got dun wit'yer trial. You lost."
I looked over at him. "So do it." I growled.
He laughed. "I'm a man of the law, I gotta follow the rules. That includes this." He held up the dinner plate he carried. "Your last meal. Gotcha a steak from your final murder victim."
I rose and accepted the plate of steak and potatoes. The Sheriff gave me a wink, and parted with one last line. "See 'ya tomorrow."
I waited until he had turned the corner before I sat on the thin cot and began to eat. They hadn't given me a knife, so I held the meat with my hands and tore chunks off with my teeth, like the animal they all claimed I was.
I chewed every bite thoroughly, searching with my tongue for the small prize within...
I bit down and found it. I spat the mouthful on the cot and fumbled through it, until I found what I was looking for.
A single, revolver sized bullet.
"Bullseye", I thought to myself.
With some careful application of pressure, I flattened the lead bullet into a flat blade. The lead was too soft to make a good lockpick, and did noting as a bullet without the powder. But a small knife? That worked just fine.
I began sharpening the tiny blade on the iron bar of my cell.
Tomorrow, these guns of mine would claim a 57th victim, as a start.
r/SlightlyColdStories for more | A real hunter doesn’t shoot where his target is but where it is going to be. Primitive mortals understand the concept through their limited understanding of space. They predict their prey’s moving pattern, firing at a fixed point in three-dimensional space. Even with their shallow intelligence, this limited apprehension provides mortals a small taste of seeing the future.
But I am Vhamos, The One Who Lives, and my predictions are not glimpses into the future. They are the future! When I shot at the Bearer of Live, Godfri, my God-Killer bullet supposedly missed. The mortals rejoiced at my appeared failing as Godfri teared into my center with his golden sword. My empire of the cosmos—they believed at that moment it would all be over. Pity the thought.
But Vhamos DOES NOT MISS. Godfri must have noticed this, for he continued to charge me, slicing into my immortal form. Pain surged through my cosmic frame. I was not supposed to feel pain. That pitiful emotion was reserved for those humans as a reminder of their finitude. Pain to a god is beyond insult. Such was my anger that I raged and cursed the Bearer of Life eons of pain and misery.
Then I was killed. My immortal body lay still. Time for me means nothing, but supposedly the mortals rejoiced for a week at my death. One week. How empty must the universe have been during that time? It pains me to think of it.
But for mortals, all good things come to an end. They exist here and there and then go off into the nothing. I do not share this weakness. When the bullet pierced Godfri's head and he bled yellow nectar, where was I? The mortal cannot answer this question, but I, reader, will give you the simplest answer. I was after him. Not in front of him or behind him, across him or beside him, under or beneath him, in this plane or the next. I was after! My bullet shot into the future and when Godfri looked in that space after him, he saw my smile, the face of ultimate victory! So remains I, he who fights before and after. | 2022-06-11T14:16:47 | 2022-06-11T12:11:55 | 38 | 24 |
[WP] Write a lighthearted story for children, which changes it's meaning when read by an adult. | The brave young girl walked through the forest, gripping her lantern tight as she diligently looked around; she knew very well what she had to do and even though the forest was dark, she was not afraid. Suddenly, she came upon a small clearing, filled with the moon's light, and saw many children playing!
"Hello!" the brave girl said to the children.
"Hello there," the children replied. They were the most peculiar children with skin as green as spring grass and flowers instead of hair.
"What brings you here?" one of the green children asked.
"A big, bad wolf stomped around our house," the brave girl explained. "It huffed and puffed and roared all night until my parents decided to go and find it and chase it away! I'm going to help them!" the girl proudly stated.
"Aren't you afraid?" one of the green children asked.
"I'm not afraid of *any* dog," the girl puffed her chest. "But... I think I've gotten lost. Perhaps you could help me?"
"Of course," a green child chirped. "But only after you beat us in a game!"
The girl's eyes lit up. "A game?"
"Hokey-stones!" one of the children said. "Let us show you!"
And so the green children taught the brave girl a game - the most fun game she has ever played. They played and played until the sun rose and the girl realized her quest was not yet done.
"Now, I really must go find my parents," she huffed.
"But the forest is big and tall! You won't find them on your own!" one of the children cried out. "Perhaps it's better if you stay here and wait until they find you?"
The girl narrowed her eyes as she thought about it - after all, her mother always told her that if she ever got lost, she should stay where she is and wait for her to find her.
"Okay!" the girl said.
"In the meantime, would you like to play more hokey-stones?" one of the children cheered.
"Of course!"
And so the children played once more, occasionally putting the prettiest flowers in the girl's hair and playfully smudging her hands with the green grass. They laughed and played and the girl was happy, knowing she is with her good friends and that her parents will join them soon!
​
So very, *very* soon.
​
And everyone was happy. | [Poem]
**The Boggel-de-Rump Song**
–
Two days into the Ooggelly Wood
The Snaphazad leered,
And greered, and feared,
At boggel-de-rumps (who were good).
–
The boggel-de-rumps (who went "Boggel-de-ray!"
At snaphazad's lop-sided grump)
Vamoosed through the woods screaming "Help! Run away!
It's the beast with the quang-tingled lump!"
–
*One* boggel-de-rump said "Pish! Tiffletoff!
I'd sooner be snaffled than run!"
And zoomed past the squandersnake, beezle, and moth,
Towards snaphazad's grimacing grun.
–
The snaphazad's grun was the size of a zoon
(And a zoon is the size of a grun!);
In shortness: the grun was eclipsing the moon,
But the brave boggel-de-rump rumbled on... | 2022-12-18T12:46:43 | 2022-12-18T12:02:17 | 524 | 79 |
[WP] Your witchcraft professor gave everyone in your class a seemingly impossible task: create your very own spell. When you nervously turned your assignment in, a look of horror spread across professor's face as they read it. You had no idea why. | Mr Ochsenpflug looked at the paper Lilly had handed in and she could already tell something wasn't right. Seriousness had crept into his eyes and had started to darken his expression in a way she hadn't been seeing until now.
"Is this your assignment, Ms. Friday?", he asked without looking up.
"Yes it is", she answered with confidence.
"Stay here after class, we need to discuss something about this", he said.
"And what would that be?", Lilly asked.
"For example that I know for a fact that you have not practiced this once. This is not a literature class, Ms. Friday, I don't ask of you to write neat little essays about your week, nor is this your Magic Theory class where you are asked to muse about what is and isn't magic. Just because you are gifted in the magical fields ... because you are a gifted magic user, I will not allow you to slack off and hand in hand waved bullshit!"
His sudden outburst, stern look that borrowed into her, and the sheer anger on display surprised her. She had never witnessed him this way and she had allowed herself to think that he was just this happy, outgoing and encouraging person that he was normally in class.
The rest of the period was agonizing. Everyone had witnessed his outburst, and it had seriously tanked his mood. And because of that, he had them read in a textbook, which he himself said was not the appropriate way to learn how to practice magic. When the Period ended, he asked Lilly to close the door and take a seat. Unsure of what was going to happen, and why he reacted the way he did, she had become anxious.
"Is this going to take long I..."
"I will talk to your other teachers, you will be exused for the rest of the day", he said, sounding exhausted.
"Two things about your ... assignement", he continued.
"One, I know for a fact that you did not practice this. I know you are gifted but as I said, this is Practical Magic you don't learn magic from reading and writing about it, only from using it. So a spell you have only ever written about, probaby last night by the looks of it, won't cut, because you cannot show it to the class. And the second thing is, I will not allow you to practice this ever. This", he said, holding her papers in the air, "is as close to forbidden knowledge as it gets. Have you committed any part of this to your memory?"
"You mean if I ..."
"Could you reproduce this procedure, in writing, if I asked you to, thats what I mean", he explained.
"Probably not. I wrote it last week, the night after you gave us the assignement and ..."
"Na immerhin...", he muttered.
He let the paper fall onto the desk and allowed himself to look tired and exhausted for a moment.
"Where did you learn about Antiforce?"
"I have read about it, Richardson wrote about it in ..."
"Yeah, I know that drivel, I kinda expected you to be smarter then that", he said.
"I ...", lilly started, bursting with a sudden rush of anger, when he interrupted her.
"Stop right there. Richardson only ever heard third or fourth hand about Antiforce and doesn't know shit about it. And what you wrote here will not produce the outcome you think it does. I understand that your understanding of Antiforce is that its a neat way of canceling out your opponents gathered Lifeforce and stop them from casting magic. That is not what this spell will do, this spell will cancel your opponent outright. And since you didn't know you needed to, you forgot to include the proper containment procedures for Antiforce, meaning, it will probably cancel yourself aswell. And everything around you in a fifteen to twenty meter radius."
"I ... I don't understand?", Lilly exclaimed with confusion.
"Antiforce is dangerous, Ms Friday. Richardson does not know that, because he does not research the things he is quaking on about fully, he just fills in the blanks with hearsay, wishfull thinking and enough hot air to sound smart. If all you know about Antiforce is from him, then you practically know nothing about Antiforce."
Lilly felt defeated, this was not the outcome she had hoped for.
"Ok, let me give you a quick overview of what we suspect Antiforce to be, because as a matter of fact, no one really knows, its basicly more of a mystery then the depths of magic itself. It appeared out of nowhere five decades ago. People were suddenly able to cast actual Antimagic. It could cancel any magic that would be created with Lifeforce. It was great! Now, actual magical defenses could for once outperform magic users! You don't need a shield, lots of stamina and a sharp tongue anymore to cancel and evade your opponents magic. And even if only select people can use it, you just have someone on your team and poof, you opponents magic is canceled."
He had started to look out the windows as if looking through them was revealing the past.
"It quickly became appearent though, much to our shock and horror, that Antiforce was not what we hoped it would be. Have you heard of that nasty magical disease they call the Burning?" | The assignment parameters? "Create a unique spell." A spell only ever seen by its creator. Everyone knows about this assignment. Everyone. The lower grades dream of being in the class, those who have completed the class sigh in memory. Creating your own spells, without being a registered Spell Creator, was illegal. The curriculum allows everyone who takes this elective class one (1) free spell creation. Once completed, the spell gets sent off to the Spell Repository, where it is judged and then (provided it works and doesn't break any other laws), gets added to the 'Big Spell Book'. It's just a fancy name for the Spell Book the government uses.
Last year, at a school not too far from mine, a student figured out how to summon small rain clouds that gave an increased volume of rainfall, using the water vapour in the air. The government then distributed the spell to farmers all over the country. This saved massive amounts of drinking water that would otherwise be used on crops. I think the student was also then employed by the government as a Spell Creator. So, this class is both fun, important, and can be a one way ticket to fame, fortune and best of all - a stable job.
This year, it was my class's turn. No one has high hopes for my class. Not to say we're delinquents, but we do have a propensity for getting into trouble. Like, a lot of it. Just recently I was arguing with a friend and it got. A little violent. Needless to say, we ended up in jail for a couple days. Or was it holding? The nuances escape me. I just knew I was in a cell. That was an awkward phone call home. And that was just me. That's just the tip of the iceberg. One guy, Jack, was caught selling off copyrighted enhancement spells to junior students. There are hundreds of non copyrighted enhancement spells but because they're old they don't work as well as the newer ones. Once he was caught, he was suspended for a week. We're all also 89% certain Kaleb has killed someone. He showed up at Jeri's house at 4am covered in what he called "red paint". I've seen a bit of the spell he's working on for this class and it has the base of a cleaning spell. I quickly averted my eyes after J had seen it. Not my monkeys, not my circus.
I, myself, have always been interested in the world. The atoms and particles that make it up. My brief stint with the police got me thinking. What if I could just phase through walls? It hasn't been done yet, but it should have been. Most people who study magic will tell you that science and magic don't get along. They're wrong. Magic is the basis of science. If you want to be technical I think the history teacher said it was Alchemy that was the base, but I flunked that course so I could be misremembering.
Anyway, the reason I'm posting this now is because the teacher wanted a written reflection of our spell development process. Why we created the spell we chose and the like. This is to be submitted after we get out results. An email should be coming through right about...now! Yes! There it is! Ok let's check my grade!
...
...
Ah. What does "Come see me tomorrow. You have some people who would be interested in employing you" mean? Is it the government...? Oh wait here's another email.
"Dear (redacted)" - what, you really think I'm gonna post my name when the person who is meant to read this already knows my name? - anyway. "I am Sgt Major Hamenon, head of the 43rd Spell Division of the Magical Infantry Corps. Your total nuclear detonation spell is of great interest to the Military. We would like to offer you a job as our Spell Creator once you leave school."
...
...
Uh oh. | 2021-04-02T03:57:25 | 2021-04-02T03:43:20 | 74 | 52 |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | "Hey, buddy! Our sign clearly says, 'No Horses Allowed,' And don't give me that long face, mister!"
Jacob scowled at the Clydesdale as it cantered out, neighing indignantly. He sighed heavily, turning to the sole remaining patron of his bar. "I don't get it, Sam. Why do these jokers keep turning up here?"
The grizzled lush looked up from his beer. "Whole neighborhood has gone to Hell, it has," he drawled. "Back when I was growing up, these roustabouts stayed on their own side. Pfft! Gone to Hell, it has."
"A beacon of wisdom as always, Sam. Are you going to have another or..."
The door creaked open and a heavyset man in full orthodox Jewish regalia stepped in. Jacob leered suspiciously, opened his mouth to speak and then decided against it. A priest in Catholic mass garments entered beside him, followed by a Muslim with a full white robe and thobe.
"Ah, fuck," Jacob spat. "No religious trios, guys! It says so right outside, underneath the horse sign!"
The Jew huffed, the priest bowed and the Muslim flipped him off, but they left without incident.
"Ay, why don't you just serve the damn fools?" Sam asked. "They're stealin' all our jobs anyway. May as well get a bit 'o the coin back, yeah?"
"Too much of a liability," Jacob replied. "Had a Panda come in about a month ago. Pulls out a gun and kills half of my regulars before hightailing it out. Looked up the fucker on Wikipedia; it was a Chinese Panda who eats shoots and leaves."
"Ah, damn shame," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Half of them aren't even good for the drinks, anyway. After the Panda and before I began enforcing the ban, I was getting a ton of Bohemians. Had to bounce half of those Czechs out."
Sam nodded. "I tell ya, mate, these characters..."
A tall, well-built man with chestnut hair, an olive complexion, and a thick overcoat walked in, surveying the scene with a quick glance. Jacob eyed him as the approached the bar.
"Evening, sir," Jacob said cautiously, alert for any impropriety. "Get ya something to drink?"
"Evening," the man said, nodding slightly and settling himself on a stool. "I'll just have a beer, please."
Jacob smiled, a visible relief washing over his face. He poured a pint of his best ale and handed it over. "This one's on the house, friend," he said. "Just glad to have another normal bloke around these parts."
"Thank you, sir," the man replied. "I'm surprised to see this place so empty on a Friday night. It's a lovely establishment."
"Ah yes. Well, we've had some troublesome clientele lately and...say, what do you have there?"
The man had pulled a large chunk of asphalt from under his coat, placing it on the counter. "Oh, I was just wondering if I could get another beer. For the road." | So you really want to buy Chuckles, huh kid? Well I suppose it's only fair to warn you, this place is a bit... funny. What's that? Strange or ha-ha? You have *no* idea...
Okay, a few quick things you gotta know. First of all, group discounts. Use 'em, liberally and often. You'll get all sorts in this place, in all manner of groupings, so do what you can to keep 'em happy.
All animals are welcome, talking or otherwise. Well, all except that duck, you'll find his picture behind the bar. On a completely unrelated note, we DO NOT serve grapes. Oh, and I've learned it's best not to comment on their personal appearance. Or mood. Or both- you know what, just serve them their drinks, you'll be much better off.
There's a shotgun under the bar, but you should only need that on riddle nights...
Ya know, other than that I think you should be fine. Just talk to everyone who comes up, and they tend to take care of the rest. You'll do great kid. Here's the keys.
Oh, one last thing. I decided to try something new one night and set up a fruit juice station over in the corner there. You know, a serve-yourself chasers sorta thing. Everyone loved it... But the punch line got too long! Ha! That's one of mine, on the house! Now, if you'll excuse me, this man's walkin' *out* of a bar!
**OUCH!**
Hey kid? Do me a favor and get that step fixed... | 2016-09-18T19:15:12 | 2016-09-18T17:21:50 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] You're the clichéd high-school super hero who has to balance heroics and school life. One day, you rescue your love interest while on super hero duty, when suddenly she starts talking about your alter-ego. You decide to stay and talk with her as a to see what she thinks of you at school. | "What did you say?" I focused on the damsel in distress I had just saved. Did she just utter the name of my alter ego. My actual name?
Maron James took a seat on the roof building I had just swung her to. "He's a guy at my school."
I sat beside her. "What's his name again?"
"Perry Park."
I wasn't imagining it. "Why'd you bring him up?"
"I want to help him, Sparrowman. You help people all the time so I thought I might as well ask for advice."
"Fair enough. Ask away."
She hugged her knees and her red hair drooped over. "I can tell he's struggling. He's shut everyone out. Everyone bullies the shit out of the guy. And several months ago the dude lost his uncle."
"I'm sure he's fin-"
"Fine? No fucking way. You don't know what it's like for us. You have superpowers. We don't. We can't shrug everything off so easily. And he's had it worse than so many of us."
"Sorry, sorry. That was insensitive. Losing people is hard. I know what that's like."
"It's not just his uncle. His best friend. I mean his best fucking friend. That's hard to come by these days. But yeah, his best friend, guy called Harold Oswald, he went all evil and shit. You know him."
I hugged my knees too. "Yeah."
"He's lost everyone important to him. Well except his aunt. She's a fucking angel but I'm pretty sure she's all he has left. I can't imagine so much loss."
"How do you want me to help?"
She brushed her hair to the side and looked at me, mascara ran down her face. "I've been in a dark place before. I know what it's like to feel lost and I know the thoughts that come with that. You saved me. Not from a burning building or anything. You were just there, you made me feel happy and if it weren't for you I could've been," she rubbed her eyes. "I might've killed myself."
I choked up. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
"Why do people do that? Apologise for something they had no part in? I should be thanking you. I mean, thank you."
"I'm always here, Maron. Whenever you need me to swing by. You wanna help Perry?"
"Yeah."
"Talk to him."
"I don't know how."
"What's he into?"
"I think science. Lots of sciency shit. Yeah, he loves that stuff."
"Well I know about a pretty cool sciency thing going on. Guy called Doctor Conrad is doing a live experiment this weekend. Regenerating cells using lizards and stuff."
"Sounds like something he'd geek over."
"Take him and just have fun."
She nudged me and smiled. "Thank you." | "Let me get this straight, I just saved you from burning alive in the building over there, and you want to friend zone me?!" Exclaimed the rocket strapped hero.
"Well, you see there is this guy at school... He is really cute in the sort of nerdy way, but I think we would just you know, click better?" She said trying to let him down gently. "I'm sure that we would have fun and all, but I'm not really the type to date around, I just want someone who is going to get a decent job, provide for me, and you know, be normal. I'm sure that there is plenty of women out there who would love to date a hero... I'm just not one of them, sorry?"
This took a moment to process. His alter ego was more attractive to her than his hero version, and she was the love of his life. He wanted her more than he wanted to be a hero and so this was an easy decision. This was to be the last day the world ever saw Rocketeer Jr., he hoped his father wouldn't be too upset with him deciding to hang up the helm and boosters for good. He was fairly sure that he would understand, it was love that had made his father start the hero tradition in the first place. Taking off his mask he said in an excited voice, "Susan, it's me Robert!"
"Robert?!? But I'm in love with Joey!" She said, both crushing his dreams and his secret identity in a single sentence. | 2017-06-20T11:08:12 | 2017-06-20T10:47:43 | 76 | 27 |
[WP] You're a supervillain whose latest evil scheme threatens to throw the city into chaos unless your nemesis goes on a date with you. To your surprise, they agree with enthusiasm before you can even explain what the consequences of refusing are. | "You don't have to do this! Think about the consequences!"
I tried shouting above sound of the whirling rotary blades. The Miragemancer, or one of her illusion clones, shouted from the side door of the Channel Four News chopper.
"I don't give a damn about the consequences, my dear. In just a few moments, my illusion clones across the city will complete the coup de grâce, and the whole city will suffer for your inattentiveness!"
My mind whirled. The Miragemancer hadn't made an appearance for two years, with word in the Alliance of Altruism being that she turned a new leaf. And now she was out in full force, bolder and more cunning than ever. The first I'd heard of it came from the detectives at UPD, some low-level rumblings and mixed sightings of what looked like the Miragemancer's clones, and a few petty crimes that fit her old MO. Sergeant Bradley even joked that compared to her old exploits, if this was her, it seemed like she was doing nothing more than looking for attention.
Then a month later, her clones are holding all of city hall hostage, the mayor's own security detail turning out to be appearance-shifted illusions, which I hadn't even realized was among her capabilities.
And now she jeered at me from the chopper, looming over me and the city alike. Desperate, I fired my turbo-bolas, full spread. But she was faster, and the chopper veered away from the edge of the skyscraper roof where I stood.
"Pathetic. You've lost your touch, Cobalt Carabiner."
My mind buzzed as I considered my tactical options. If I could just get onto the helicopter, I could have some luck subduing her in close quarters. I could use my elastic-grapples to rappel onboard, I'd just need to keep her distracted.
"You haven't even issued your demands, Mirage! Come on, what is it you want? What's worth coming out of hiding for?"
I could see her face change from across the open air. She seemed... offended, almost?
"You really don't know? You really can't guess?"
She started to bring the helicopter closer, and I saw my chance.
"You're always fond of calling me a fool, so humor me this once. What do you ask of the city?"
She laughed, a short, barking chuckle, humorless and dry.
"I don't want anything of the city, Cobalt. But *you* owe me a nice dinner out, at the very least."
My elastic grapple, halfway to the chopper, limply fell short of the landing gear I had aimed at as I fumbled the launcher in shock.
"I... I do?"
The Miragemancer brought the helicopter alongside the rooftop, and turned to look me directly in the eye.
"Honey, what's today's date?"
My mind reeled. Today's... today's date? The fifth of... oh, oh no. My heart plummeted, and without thinking I blurted out:
"I *MISSED OUR ANNIVERSARY?!"*
Now Miranda really did start laughing, and her smile spread wide across her face.
"You were so busy with that superhero team-up stuff that was happening in Europe for the past few months, you left your poor wife all alone and everything. You'd think a girl could snag her husband's attention without having to decapitate an entire civic government."
She looked at me accusingly.
I coughed, awkwardly retracting my grapples.
"Miranda, I am so sorry. I'll make it up to you, I swear. Morgiano's, maybe? Or... I'll cook something, something nice, I'll surprise you, if you give me time!"
She laughed, stepping off the helicopter and opening her arms out for a hug. Her illusion clone piloting the vehicle veered away, putting the aircraft down on the helipad behind us. I collected my rival, archnemesis, and cherished wife into my arms. The smell of her hair was pleasant, even in the chilly cross-breeze this high up, and Miranda seemed to melt into my arms. I pressed a kiss into her shoulder before my mind caught up to me.
"Wait...but what about your plot, the city? Should I expect you to wear orange to our date then?"
She pecked me on the cheek, fierce and possessive, as she answered. "Actually I've been on such good behavior that the city figured they owed me a favor or three. And you'd be surprised, when I told Mayor Doana and Chief O'Versley that you'd missed our anniversary they were *appalled*. The Chief helped me concoct the plot too, and pass some leads to you via your old detective buddies. And since I helped expose her predecessor's corruption, Mayor Doana was more than happy to play hostage for the sake of our happy marriage. Honestly, the Mayor seemed really excited for her first time, since she took office after I'd gone quiet."
I shook my head. Taking Miranda by the hand, I led her toward the stairwell off the roof, taking care to press a kiss into the back of her palm as we walked. She hummed, satisfied.
"All that stuff in Europe is wrapped up, and if anyone else from the Alliance comes calling before New Year's, I'm going to tell them to fuck right off, I'm spending this time at home."
She smiled, and hugged my arm.
"Good. Welcome home then, honey."
It felt good to be back, and truth be told, it was fun, just one last time, to square off with my old foe. One thing still bothered me though.
"Hey Miranda? Where did you learn to fly a helicopter?"
\--- END
This was a blast to tackle, OP, and I was glad to revisit the characters from this older prompt a while back: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/jkyym5/comment/gams6d4/?context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/jkyym5/comment/gams6d4/?context=3)
Hope this is as fun to read as it was to write! | **Dr Doctor's Big Day**
"Is everything in place?" Dr Doctor looked nervous for perhaps the first time in his life.
"Yes, sir," his assistant, Lucy, replied. She was one of the high-ranking officers in the area, but Dr Doctor paid a lot of them off to do his own business.
"Armed escorts to take us around the city in case of a hero attacking me?"
"Check."
"Missile pointed directly at the hospital, for use if she doesn't go on this date?"
"Check."
"Small bomb planted in every fast food place in the city?"
"That took a long time but... Check. What's that for anyway?"
"If I ask her to a certain restaurant and she's like 'Ew, no, I hate that place' -- It might gain me some respect."
"Wouldn't she respect you more if you didn't force her to date you?"
Dr Doctor looked shocked at this question, "Force her to date me?? I'm forcing her to go on *a* date with me. I wouldn't force someone to date me, that's messed up. Just forcing her to give me a chance, that's all! What's the harm in that?"
Prismarine was an illusionist, who had just recently joined the League of 8. She used to work in the movie industry - She could cast illusions that were lifelike and saved studios a ton of money on VFX. She had already been in a battle with Dr Doctor since joining the team, the very same day Watchcorp announced her as their newest hero.
Dr Doctor had been studying her movements and knew exactly where she would be right now - On her way to a local bakery at 12:30 in the afternoon. He took his chance and walked right up to her.
"Well, well, well... If it isn't the 9th member of the League of 8... Remind me how that works again?"
Prismarine took a stance as if ready to fight "Dr... What do you want?"
"Actually, I... I wanted to ask you out on a date. Now, I should warn you --"
"Oh my god, yes! Yes!!! Oh my god, are you serious?? Yes!!!"
"I, uhm, I. Yes! That's what I...was hoping you'd say..." Dr Doctor spoke a little quieter, into the microphone hidden in his collar, "call off the escort team, she doesn't know about the threats, stand down!!"
He looked back at Prismarine, "So, how about we head to Lounge: Central?"
"No thanks, sorry, I don't really enjoy that place."
"Would you say you...hate it?" he replied, as he got ready to give the command.
"No, it's alright. Just not date material, you know? Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason, never mind -- Where would you like to go?"
"How about Pete's Pizzeria? I love pizza!!"
The two of them made their way down to Pete's Pizzeria, chatting and getting to know each other. Dr Doctor felt like maybe, just maybe, he should give up his villainry for this woman. She had truly captured his heart. After their meal, they left the establishment, and started to walk around the city. The whole while, Dr Doctor was surprised that nobody from the League of 8 had shown up to do anything. This was the longest he had been out in public without someone attempting to capture him.
"I've really enjoyed tonight, Prismarine. Maybe it doesn't have to end yet? Maybe we could head back to my lair? Ha, calling it a lair, sounds so dumb when I say it out loud!"
He looked back over at Prismarine, noticing she wasn't smiling anymore. "I literally am a professional at illusions, and you didn't suspect a thing? To be fair I impressed myself, too, actually. Never tried to trick someone's feelings, I've always done practical illusions."
"Wait, this date was a setup?"
"Yeah, of course. Titanium dismantled the missile, Swift ran around to every bomb in the city and got rid of them, and Backlash took out the henchmen that you had hiding all around us."
Dr Doctor tried to swing at Prismarine, but she just laughed, "I'm not even here. Do I need to spell out illusion for you?", she said as she vanished into thin air.
Dr Doctor checked to see where all the bombs were, and the trackers said they were all at the League of 8 Headquarters.
He spoke into his collar.
"Lucy. Detonate every fast food place."
---
*If you enjoyed this story, these characters appear frequently in my small multiverse continuity that I've been working on! Check out r/MultiMediaverse* | 2022-08-16T07:30:27 | 2022-08-16T06:57:56 | 286 | 144 |
[WP] Dave is the first human convict to arrive in the intergalactic prison. | What surprised him the most, was how clean the facility was. Dave was no expert on prisons. The only time he had ever spent in one was a night in the drunk tank the summer after graduating high school.
"Dave, human of earth, for the crime of sexually harassing the princess of Omega 13 you are sentenced to 3 days." The computer translator announced following a series of gurgling noises from the green cyclops which sat in the desk before him. Dave thought he might be misinterpreting but it seemed to him, the alien was very uncomfortable with the situation.
"All I did was shake her hand!" Dave exclaimed in confusion. As a former employee of NASA and now a member of the presidential cabinet, he was chosen to be the face of humanity. However, it seemed he had royally screwed that up.
The green alien scoffed, "You humans are truly barbaric creatures, to think you would have such am undignified way of greeting. Be glad we do not want to ruin our relationship with your people or the punishment would be death."
Dave was led away by two giant guards with orange leathery skin. The two guards seemed as if nothing could frighten them. Yet, they gave Dave a wide berth as they led him to his cell and continued to nervously glance at him. His cell had 3 others already inside; Dave was not a brave man but he was quite sure that even a brave man would find them terrifying.
"ummm hey?" Dave spoke in an unsure and quite voice. His cellmates immediately jumped back against the wall, obviously terrified of the small human before them. This might seem silly to some but when dealing with things on a galactic scale, only a fool judges a book by its cover.
After all, a Thyrax is only a foot tall but can flay your mind by simply looking at you. A Skytar on the other hand, possesses a stinger which causes the victim to die in a way so painful that there is nothing else in the known galaxy to even compare it to. Therefore, when one considers the fact that humans are still a complete unknown and this specific human only got a 3 day long prison sentence for assaulting a member of a powerful royal family, it was only logical to be afraid.
Dave did not figure this out for himself until the last day of his sentence. Prisoners would give him their food just because he looked in their direction, his cellmates acted like rats stuck in a python's cage and the guards which spared no mercy for the other prisoners, showed him the utmost respect.
Only a day later, Dave once again met with the galactic council. "We have decided not to share our warp-drive technology with the humans." The bird like alien chirped. "Tell your leaders that you will be provided transportation by us whenever we deem necessary for it is in the best interest of the galaxy that humanities freedom be limited for the first few centuries."
Dave was afraid this would happen, especially after the scandal. "Unfortunately, my leaders have just informed me that we can not accept these terms."
"They have?" The yellow gel-like alien to the left asked through a computer terminal.
"Well, of course." Dave lied in a smooth voice and prayed his bluff would work. "You see, we humans can telepathically communicate with our minds." He could see the impressed reaction of the aliens before him.
"We did not know of this." The head alien replied in a singing like voice. "Can you show us now?"
Dave had expected this and already prepared a reply. "Councilor, how you ask such a thing!?" He exclaimed with feigned offence. "This is only something we use between the closest of family and friends. To ask for someone to telepathically communicate with you is the height of rudeness for our people!" The councilor having no choice, quickly apologized for asking him to prove this ability with obvious embarrassment.
"In fact," Dave continued now gaining confidence. "Asking you to share your warp-drive technology is for your sake. We humans normally travel the galaxy through black holes we create with our belly buttons. If you insist we will travel to your worlds using this method but I expect it to cause some problems."
"We have no evidence of this." The bird-like alien rebutted but it was easy to pick up the confusion in his voice.
"Well that is obvious." Dave replied with an easy smile. "The galaxy is a big place and we did not know where to find you. Fortunately, we now know exactly where you live. Also, it would certainly be quite irresponsible to go creating a bunch of black holes in our own system."
Nobody spoke a word as the aliens gazed in amazement at Dave. His smile was easy but it was also terrifying.
"We will reconsider our decision." The head alien spoke in a defeated voice.
"Wonderful! I will be on my way then." Dave hummed a cheerful tune as he began to unbutton his shirt.
"Stop!" The entire room of aliens yelled in unison. "We will provide you with a ship....consider it a gift from us."
With a skip in his step, Dave strolled to the hangar where his new Phantom-Class star ship waited. | "Three years?" The guard's pair of mouths sung in unison, "When the third sun sets, your sentence will be over." Without another word he whirled toward the hall on his tail, lowered the gate, and left me in my cell.
Shaking myself back into reality, I took a hesitant breathe. The air was crisp, humidity around 40%, temperature 25°C. The garb they made me wear held tightly to my waist, covered the length of my legs. The shirt was almost ethereal; see-through, almost weightless and yet held my body heat at a steady warmth. The lack of footwear held my stomach in a state of apprehension until I was led into my chamber. The majority of the floor was covered in a warm moss, a tree a bearing dark purple fruit stood in the corner under a skylight. A brook rounded the base of the tree, trailed off into a pristine grate in the corner.
I stood akimbo, feet apart the precise distance I had trained into my muscles. Inhaled the brisk air and flexed my fingers. I felt the metallic residue climb through my fingers and push its way out of my fingertips. The silver shine encompassed the top third of my fingers. The implants worked perfectly.
The surgeon, myself, and the Society for InterStellar Athropological Studies all had our doubts on the implant’s effectiveness to bypass the security systems at the intergalactic prison. There had been no alternative species of convicts willing to share details of the compound to the human species. After a multi-generational cyber intelligence reconnaissance, the United Nations of Cyber Security the UNCS, were able to implant a false sentence and a false identity into the prison’s directories. Forty eight hours after the upload, here I was. My crime was noted as noted as hacking the UNCS and selling the information to a subterranean revolutionary group whose goal was to curb human space projects.
I spoke into my fingertips, detailing the landscape of my room. A sense of invasion came over me and I ceased my note taking and I raced for the shadow of the tree. Turning to face the gate where the guard disappeared, a small rodent paced observing my feet with a leering eye. It’s gait matching a pace of an ancient street woman pushing a cart full of crushed soda cans, it began its trip toward me. He stopped barely two meters from where I was crouched. The room twenty yards in length, I barely had time to remember that my fingertips were still encased by my smuggled implants. I grabbed my hands behind my back and pushed on the centers of my palms. The fingertips returned to their norm.
It’s eyes met mine with an inquisitive stare of delight, fright, and gleam of purpose. “Three yee-ahs is a minor sentence for one finding themselves in the habitat of this preeson.”
The clarity of the empire language that came out of this rodent surprised me. The sound of my heart was clear in my ears. I stood holding my breath, afraid to make a sound or move. The rodent said no more to me, but continued to inspect me for two more minutes, then exited the room. Extending my fingers the implants took their place. I knew what I had to do when I began to speak into the recorders, “D.A.V.E. - I.G. infiltration Mission - Day 3. IG Prison Sentence - Day 1. Around two hours since entrance. This is Doctor Phaldon Remus, Director Assistant to the Vice Emperor of Anthropological Studies. Human IG case number one.”
| 2016-08-23T09:46:40 | 2016-08-23T08:51:09 | 82 | 45 |
[WP] Every time you die, you get to choose what you'll be reincarnated as. You've chosen ant 4 billion times. | The angel stands before me, a sad frown on his face. I get the feeling we’ve had this conversation before, or some version of it at least. There’s a bunch of us together, standing before the gates and making our choices. In theory, we can choose anything we want. In practice, there’s a cost. Being an ant is far down on the ladder. It gives little opportunities for doing good, but less for doing evil.
“You can become a bird, if you want to. You have the karma.”
“And eat ants?” I shake my head repulsed. “No, thank you.”
The angel looks through my soul a moment, his eyes glowing warmly, before checking his list again.
“Actually, since you have so many lifetimes of good, honest work behind you, you can become a cat.”
I shake my head. Not interested. Selfish, murderous beings.
«Tell me why. »
“Being an ant is simple. There’s no difficult question to answer, there is no moral dilemma. Sometimes I become queen, which is nice. Even being a worker, everything is ordered. And I’m strong, so very strong. Have you ever had the feeling of lifting a sugar cube a thousand times your weight?”
I smile, or my soul does. The angel only shakes his head.
“It’s amazing. And knowing that your own strength is enough to help the colony so much, that’s the best part. I’m a part of something bigger, and my work matters. ”
“But some parts must be worse than others?”
“Being a mating male is not very interesting, “ I admit, “but it’s easy to do your duty and fulfill your purpose. It is easy to be good.”
We are distracted by another standing in line. The angel clearly asks the soul if he’s sure he wants to go from snake to monkey. An insane leap. The soul nods and we all stare in fascination and horror as fire catches hold of the soul and the screams begin. It is then sent away to holding, It will be kept there until it has suffered the same amount of suffering it has inflicted, and then the amount needed to make up for the lacking karma. I shudder.
“Make me an ant.” I repeat, my voice carrying strongly. “And keep my karma for later.”
The angel nods and I have a last thought while my soul is hurling back towards the earth. I estimate that I am about a quarter of my way to my goal, to the epitome of a good being. To the closest thing possible to an angel. Twelve billion lifetimes more as an ant, and then I’ll be ready without purging.
Then, I’ll finally be a dog.
| "WHAT THE FUCK MAN? How do you even live your life; even an ant takes a surprising amount of effort to be rid of," God said.
 
"Hey, I'm sorry man, every single time I respawn some stupid human has to step on me-"
 
"Don't you fucking call it 'respawn'! I already told you it's called reincarnation! R-E-I-N-C-A-R-N-A-T-I-O-N! And that's the 4th billion time you have come and sputter your filthy human language and hoping to become an ant, while making me swear non-stop."
 
"Pretty please? Just one more time? I promise I will look up and avoid a foot coming down at me this time."
 
"Just...just this last time. Get out of my sight."
 
*Poof* Aha! I'm an ant again, look at my six legs and mandibles; I mean I always wanted to be like Antman, but since I couldn't, being an ant isn't that bad anyway... Now time to go look for some frie-
 
Pitch black. *Sigh*.
 
"WHAT. THE. FUCK!" God exclaimed. Make it 4 billion and 1. | 2016-12-30T05:02:27 | 2016-12-30T03:17:05 | 304 | 122 |
[WP] You buy a special camera at the pawn shop. Every photo you take, it shows a snapshot of 10 years ago. You take a picture of your dog and it shows him 10 years ago when he was a puppy. Everything is all fun and games, until you decide to take a picture of your bedroom one night. | I pointed the camera through my open door. It was 3:13am, I'd spent all day taking photos.
*Click*
The mechanical cogs spun up whirring and fizzing. Out popped a Polaroid sized photo of my room - 10 years in the past.
I brought it into the light, but it was all black. I gave it a little shake, blew on it a little, nothing.
*Hmmm.*
*Well I suppose 10 years ago it would've been dark.*
I flicked on the light switch illuminating my room, hoping that would help. With the flicker of the light, I studied my room. The bed still sat in the same spot as in my childhood. The race car bed sheets replaced with a plain blue and white stripe, something 23 year old me still regretted changing a little bit.
The nostalgia brought back fond memories.
I pointed the camera again.
*Click.*
Out popped another Polaroid sized photo, this time all in white - the picture was developing. Slowly but surely the features of my room became more visible. The outline of the posters on the wall, the rug I'd ruined with coke at 15, the study desk in the corner. Eventually the centre started to fill.
I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. My hands started to shake. I took a step back.
At the foot of my bed was a figure, in black, watching over me sleeping. It's back to me now.
*What the fuck*
I composed myself. It was probably just my dad. I moved myself to the head of my bed, pointing the camera to the foot - hoping to reveal the face of the man at the foot of my bed. I poised to take another photo, my finger quivering slightly.
*Click*
The picture developed, but the man was no longer at the foot of my bed - I peered closer at the photograph. The man had moved.
In the corner of the photograph, a small black shape had entered the frame. The figure was stood over my sleeping body, I looked to my right slowly, seeing nothing, but feeling a cold sweat break out on my neck.
I wiped my sweat and took a step back, positioning the camera again to capture the figure.
*Click*
Poised over my 13 year old self, it's elongated fingers grasped the edge of the blanket. The figure was staring right into the camera lens. It was no man. It's long white face filled the frame. With sunken black eye sockets, a long white, pointed nose, it's thin lips were upturned.
It was looking right at the camera. It was looking right at me.
My eyes turned wide, I couldn't breathe. I stumbled back into the bookshelf, taking another photo in the process.
The blanket was drawn back, the beings hand poised above 13 year old me, still staring right at me - it was laughing at me.
I felt a sharp pain in my chest, right in the centre. I ripped off my shirt, my skin was being caved by an invisible point. I rubbed it, I stepped away, but nothing would stop the relentless sting. It broke the skin and I started to bleed. I cried out in pain and it stopped.
I took another picture of the bed cautiously while the blood seeped out.
The being was still stood there, beside my screaming 13 year old self. The figure was staring right at the camera again. 13 year old me was clambering to get away.
I ran out, feeling the claws rake at my back. | I took the picture, smiling inwardly. I wonder how it'll look? I'd only been living there for a few months - I wonder what it had been like 10 years ago? What pictures would be up on the walls? Was the building even 10 years old?
I went to the darkroom, dipping the photo into the chemicals. I'd always enjoyed the process - it gave me time to think, to be lost in that secluded world of darkness. I felt strangely safe in it.
I hung up the photo, going outside to feed Max. I framed the picture I took of him as a puppy - he'd been so cute back then, but worryingly thin. As a rescue dog, it made me even happier that I'd found him. I gave him a treat along with his food - I'd been taken even better care of him lately, seeing how he'd looked so many years ago. He needs all the love he can get.
Back to the darkroom. It was silly, but I was excited to see the picture. Most of the images I'd took had ended up being very banal, but something about this one filled me with intrigue.
I took the picture off the wire, peering into it in the darkness. It didn't seem to have developed properly - it was so dark. I let my eyes become accustomed to the darkness, and I looked closer into the image.
The picture wasn't dark. It seemed obscured, almost as if there was a figure standing too close to the camera.
Then I saw it - then I saw her.
*Looking directly into the camera*.
Suddenly Max whined outside. I'd never heard him make that noise, and it made me instantly drop the photo. I turned to open the door, but the handle was stuck. No - the door was *locked*.
Max was barking, growling. I'd never heard him like that. I beat at the door, hitting it with all my might, but it wouldn't budge. Panicking, I grabbed the photo again, lifting it to my face.
The room was bare. The figure gone.
Something slammed against the wall, and I heard Max's muffled cry.
Then she came for me. | 2016-12-22T05:06:09 | 2016-12-22T03:14:16 | 37 | 11 |
[WP] Dear diary, I’ve been feeding this creature that fell from the sky for a few days. It strangely likes to drink water, the liquid we use to fuel cars. I noticed a patch on its suit today that read “NASA”. I’ll ask it tomorrow what that means. If that’s it’s name. | Dear Diary,
I finally gathered the courage to ask the creature what the symbols "NASA" was. While it was drinking the daily water (I still can't get over it... water! Who drinks water?!), I pointed to its suit.
I asked, "what does that say?"
It didn't understand me at first, not until I used three of my hands to specify the small patch on its suit.
It made a sound that sounded like it came from its nose, all elongated vowels like "naaaaah saaaaah". It's strange, but I found it kind of pleasing to the soundorifices. But what was most surprising was that the creature spoke *from its mouth*! I guess it's not advanced enough to understand telepathy yet. No wonder it didn't understand my question!
After I asked, Nasa spoke a whole gaggle of syllables! It was so cool to listen to, like smooth marbles rolling in the mouth. I don't know what it was telling me, but I think this means that it trusts me now. It must be hard to know who to trust when you only have two eyes. I wonder how their species survives.
Don't tell Mom but when I came home, I tried making sounds with my mouth too. The vibrations of my voice tickled my throat. I didn't sound as nice as Nasa. My voice was thick and gravelly, like rocks crunching against each other. I don't see how I could keep this up for a whole conversation. Wouldn't my throat go raw from use?
It's better that I stick with telepathy. There's a reason we evolved to use it.
\*\*\*
Dear Diary,
I went to visit Nasa again today. It lives in its ship, a long thin strip of metal. It could barely fit two Parqons in there. I'd never seen a ship so small before, except maybe to transport home deliveries. How did Nasa travel here in it? Where did Nasa even travel from? I wish I could talk to it.
I tried asking it where it was from, but it didn't understand me. Just gobbled the water down in two quick gulps. I could see it travel down Nasa's throat! So weird! Like a little snakeworm wiggling inside. What if there is a snakeworm in there? That happened to my canispup once. You could see the wiggling dots in its poop. Mom insisted we give him away after that...
Nasa tried to ask me something, but I can't understand her garbled language. There are too many sounds and they slip and slide all over each other. It's hard to distinguish where a word starts and ends.
It pointed to itself and made a sound like "Sin-dee" then it pointed to me and waited. It did this a few times, and I think it was asking for my name. I guess Sindee is its actual name! So, I still don't know what Nasa is. Maybe it's the planet Sindee's from.
I tried to tell Sindee that I'm Qilyer. I still don't think I can get used to the noise coming from my mouth. I think Sindee understood, though, as it repeated my name. It sounds much better coming from Sindee.
I told Sindee that it was here on planet Criplail. It took a long time for it to understand. It's really more primitive than I anticipated. Even the dumbest Parqon would have understood after the second try. But it's been kind of fun trying to get Sindee to understand, kind of like training my canispup!
It took a lot of gesturing with all four of my arms, but Sindee finally understood. I gestured some more to ask where it was from. It said something that sounded like Erth. What a strange name! So gutteral! I tried to repeat it but it was too hard for me. Spoken language is really complex. How do such primitive creatures have the capacity to think about all the elements of language, like grammar and syntax, while also pushing air and forming mouth movements? It really is amazing!
\*\*\*
Dear Diary,
I saw Sindee fiddling with the ship today. From what I can gather, Sindee is running out of provisions. I offered it a packet of my glowing nutskins, but I guess it can't eat that. It couldn't crack it with its teeth! How silly is that? Teeth that can't even crack nutskins! Why even have teeth? Maybe its function is just to help with speech.
It seems like Sindee's ship has run out of fuel. That seemed like an easy fix. I tried to pour the water into the tank, but Sindee screamed at me. It sounded just like a wild owlscreecher! I was so surprised I dropped the cup completely and the water pooled over the ground.
The craziest part--Sindee was so shocked that it started leaking out of its eyes! It was clear, just like the water. I guess when it drinks so much water, it probably becomes water too. I'm not sure why Sindee was so hysterical. Its breathing was erratic and I was scared it might choke on its own water!
I quickly scooped the dropped water back into the cup and tried to show it that it was okay. Sindee just stared at it. It looked at the ground and then back into the cup. Then it spoke a string of words that I couldn't figure out at all. I don't really get what happened. It's not like things disappear once it hits the ground. It's a solid slate. Everything just settles on top.
Eventually, Sindee calmed down. It seemed wary to accept the cup this time, almost as if it was expecting the water to be changed. I urged Sindee to drink it--it seems like they need a lot of water and I can't siphon any more from the car today or else Mom will know. Luckily, she drives everywhere so won't notice a little missing here and there.
Sindee kept hesitating, but eventually, after I tipped the cup into her mouth, it did drink it. It really does seem like these creatures need a lot of supervision and care even for their most basic needs. I don't know what Sindee would have done if I hadn't found her.
Afterwards, Sindee showed me what was in the fuel tank. And it was the craziest thing! Did you know they still use petroleum as fuel?? I know! That's what the first Parqons used before we discovered cleaner methods. It surprises me more and more just how backwards Sindee's parqons are!
I said I'd try to help. Eventually Sindee understood and then it tried to strangle me!! Only, I realised afterwards that wrapping its two skinny arms wasn't actually an attack, but some sort of sign of affection? When it was squeezing me, I could feel just how soft and fleshy it actually was. Underneath the crinkly armour it wore, it was actually quite delicate. I could have crushed it easily between just two of my arms! Sindee's lucky that I think first and act second. That could have ended very badly for it. I'll need to find a way to tell it to be more careful in the future. You'd think that something so squishy would be more aware of dangers...
I'm not sure where I'm going to find petroleum. Sindee might have to remain here even longer. Maybe I can convince Mom to let it stay with us. It could be a replacement pet for my canispup.
\*\*\*
Dear Diary,
Sindee was gone when I went to visit today. The ship was gone too. I guess it found the petroleum it needed to return home. At least, I hope that's the case. Otherwise, it would mean the Order found it, and well... I'd rather not think about that.
I hope Sindee is safe. It's silly, but I do worry about it. It's so helpless, like a baby.
One day, when I grow up, I'm going to become a star walker. I'm going to fly to Erth and find Sindee, and the first thing I'm going to do is circle my two arms around it in an affection attack!
\*\*\*
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more from me, feel free to check out: r/rulerofstorybears | She was a frail creature, much smaller than Levi was, but she had a sense of familiarity that lingered over their time together. Like they had known each other far longer than a few days -- when he found her, after she hurtled from the sky and landed miles from his home.
For the first few days all she did was sleep, confined to the prison box that she came down upon. Most, Levi thought, would think it a curse. But he, unlike many in his village, was curious of the world and the stars and the legends of their ancestors. No one remembered the days when people flew amongst the stars, but the books were littered about old ruins. Old ruins that Levi felt drawn to.
On the third day, she woke, gasping for air and throwing the box open in a mechanical hiss. For anyone else, they would've turned tail and ran, but Levi merely sat there, a giant compared to her, waiting for her to say something -- do anything.
She asked for water first, choosing not to acknowledge Levi's extraordinary size compared to hers. And so he gave it to her. Hours later, she asked for food, and Levi offered what sustenance he could. *She was lucky,* he thought, *for my hunt had just begun.*
They did not speak after that, but instead sat in silence as the bear meat cooked over a roaring flame. Her eyes were transfixed on it, on the fire, on the meat, on the world around her that Levi knew she did not recognize. He stared at her the first few nights, wondering what her eyes were looking for -- trying to find an answer in the dark shades of honey he saw within her irises.
*I will ask her,* he thought, *when the time is right.*
____
It came the next morning. She was awake first, kindling the embers of a dying fire. For a moment, he did not acknowledge that he was awake. Instead, he laid still and examined her. She had long, flowing hair that was disheveled and bushy, and wore a suit of cloth that Levi did not recognize. More so, across the suit were letters and numbers, but the most distinct was a patch on the left side of the suit. Clearly printed, on blue and red, were four letters. NASA.
He rose his head slightly, then sat up, crossed his legs and stared at the women on the other side of the cracking embers. She looked at him, poked the embers with a long stick, and smiled. Levi smiled back.
"Nasa," he said, breaking the silence that lingered between them that morning. "Is that what they call you?"
She stared at him, her honey-glazed eyes blinking in the morning sun. Shock. Confusion. Levi did not know what plagued her thoughts.
"You came from the sky," he said.
She nodded, silent still. He gave her a moment. She reached for the bag filled with water, the same liquid that powered his hovercraft, parked just feet away. Nasa drank it straight from the bag, lifting the cool water to her lips. She let the water dribble around her mouth, before wiping it away.
"Do you--" he began, but stopped when she stood up. He did not move, remaining cross-legged on the other side of the fire. *Patience,* he thought.
He wondered what she was doing. Then she looked up to the sky and took a deep breath. "You can call me Nasa," she said -- her voice was rough, coarse, as if not used in years. "If you think that suits me."
He nodded. When she stood, she was as tall as Levi was when he was sitting. *Frail,* he thought again, *for someone to have come from the sky.*
"Do you have a name?"
"They call me Levi," he said. "My village, that is."
"I see." She said and stretched her arms into the sky. She took a few deep breaths, then looked at Levi. The smile lingered for a moment, then faltered. "Was there anyone else?"
He knew what she meant. She fell from the sky during a great storm and came crashing down to earth in a single, sudden ball of fire. Levi shook his head. She acknowledged it, sat back down, poked the embers again.
They sat that way for a few minutes.
"I did not come from the sky," she said, "but rather another world."
*Curious,* he thought.
"Another time, perhaps." She spoke in half-truths, Levi knew, something held her back.
They sat in silence a while longer.
"I read about you," Levi said. "Well, not you--you, but your kind. Sky-farers. The books say there were hundreds of you, thousands even."
"Astronauts," she said, smirking. "Or cosmonauts. That's what they called us. One in the same at the end of the day. Just people looking for a home."
"My village is near," he said, "if you need a home."
She poked the embers, staring silently at the small flames that popped in the morning air. "I did have one," Nasa said, "a home that is. Never wanted to leave, but the greater good and all that." She shrugged.
*She'll explain,* he thought, *let her.*
"I was not supposed to be the first," she said.
"Of the--" he sounded out the word in his head, then said it aloud, "Astrahnaughts."
She smirked, "Close enough. Yes."
"What happened to them?"
She looked at him now, straight-on, her eyes staring into his very soul. Levi had felt the familiar come over him again, as if he was staring at his grandmother, her eyes that held wisdom behind them. "A question for another time," she said at last. "For it is just me and this world," she looked back at the fire, "this time is not what is was supposed to be."
He thought about pushing, about asking more. His curiosity burning inside of him like a great fire, stronger than the embers that whittled and died in front of them. But he knew that she felt alone, scared and lost, in a world she did not know. He had known that feeling. Maybe that is what he sensed in her -- the familiarity of being lost.
"I can take you there," he said at last, "to the ruins -- the books I read of your people. You may not be alone, Nasa."
She smiled. "A wonderful thought. I would like that," she said, still staring at the embers. "But for now, tell me about this world, this place." She looked up at him, "About you."
And so, he opened his mouth, and told the story of his world.
________
EDIT: Thank you everyone for the nice comments! I am working on a possible continuation for this prompt, but we'll see! | 2020-10-11T08:49:16 | 2020-10-11T07:32:54 | 960 | 313 |
[WP] Your 14-year-old sister finally wakes up from a coma of 6 years. She panics when she realizes how much she's grown. | Her blue eye opened first. Daisy was one of a kind in every single aspect of life, right down to her multicolored eyes. One blue and one brown. She had been out of my life for six years, and sadly she would leave me again a few days after waking from her coma. Only this time it would be forever.
Daisy and I were twins, born to a young single mother. She had bounced from house to house growing up, and had unfortunately ended up on the streets when she gave birth to us. We were placed in a shelter shortly after coming into this world, but thankfully a loving family adopted us when we were four months old.
Our parents Sheri and Rodger provided my sister and I with every amenity we could ever ask for or need. They bought us dozens of toys, and encouraged us to play outside. Our house was situated on the bend of a quite road. We had a large yard and a swimming pool. More than enough room for Daisy and I to run around and play. Although our parents preferred that we stay in the backyard, we would venture towards the front on occasion.
It was on one of these adventures that our family changed permanently. Daisy saw a bunny, and being the curious type, she immediately attempted to catch it. We never heard the car rounding the bend. I blacked out. The next thing I remembered was running screaming to my mom. My dad scooped Daisy from the pavement and within seconds we were in the car rushing to the emergency room.
Six years I waited. For six years I dreamt about looking into her blue eye. My parents debated if keeping her alive artificially was humane. Ultimately they decided to let time be Daisy's fate. Then three months ago I saw her blue eye. She looked over at me and said, "I feel old". I replied, "fourteen is old in dog years". Daisy died later that week. I lived more than half of my life without my best friend and sister. Now I am just and old dog who hopes to see her blue eye when I pass on. Fourteen is old in dog years. | White used to be her favorite color.
Vanilla ice cream and
Clouds and
Cotton now
Sheets and
Gloves and
Doctors.
There was strange inconsistency
In how her eyes still were the same
Even though all the rest had changed.
She was still my little sister.
Even with eyes trembling
Hands shaking, grasping, searching the air, the bed
The dreams she once had.
When a hero is born
We say
"Kill the child,
And let the man be born"
I knew the child died a slow death
Six years in the making.
But what I saw
Was definitely
Not the birth of a hero.
| 2017-08-02T06:46:21 | 2017-08-02T06:45:19 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] A cult summons an elder horror only to find that the awful truths it has to share are only beyond the comprehension of the medieval Europeans who wrote the legends about it. Most of what it has to share is actually taught in grade school today. | "...So if you take the limit of x to a in (f(x)-f(a))/(x-a), you get the derivative of the function. The derivative can then be used to calculate the slope of the line tangent to the original equation at f(a). Now, a shortcut you can use to find the derivative is..." The gargantuan, tentacled beast in comically tiny spectacles scrawled introductory calculus all over the chalkboard as the cultists scratched their heads. It was every bit as terrifying as the books described.
Pavin, the lead cultist, raised his hand. "Yes, Pavin?" The horror asked.
"Pardon my interruption, great Old One, but you've just been teaching math for a week. Like, you started with algebra and now you're doing introductory Calculus. Where is the forbidden knowledge that drove man to madness?" He'd stopped taking notes after the first day and just sat there, drumming his fingers on his desk. But his patience was wearing thin.
The Horror chuckled out of its many mouths. "Oh, dear. It wasn't the knowledge that drove them to madness at all. I taught them the same things, but they just couldn't handle the stress from my class. You've adapted well in the last thousand years. Yes, Matt?" It called on another cultist as he raised his hand.
"Are we allowed to use the shortcut on the test, or do we have to show our work?" Matt shifted uncomfortably as Pavin gave him a death stare from behind his sacrificial-altar-turned-desk.
"I'm afraid you'll have to show your work. But thank you for the segue into our next topic. The test will be in a week, and no calculators will be allowed." The cultists shared a collective groan. "Class dismissed!"
"Wait!" Trent brought a few sheets of binder paper to the horror's desk. "You forgot to collect homework, Great Old One!"
He felt the collective glare of the entire cult on his back as the horror chuckled. "Ah yes, silly me. I guess they call me 'Old One' for a reason! Alright, pass in your homework. As a reminder, I don't curve, but I'm dropping your lowest test. You need a C+ or higher to not get eaten, so study hard!"
____________________________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | I thought we messed up at first, all the medieval scriptures had said to light the candles, wipe around the sheep's blood, but when we did it all nothing happened. Till about an hour later when we were all about to pack up a giant puff of smoke appeared and out of it came a coughing man with medieval clothing.
He looked around at us and stopped coughing, "This isn't my usual class..."
Our leader went forward and got on his knee, "O demon, we need your advice and your wisdom to prevail in our struggle."
"Struggle, struggle.. right. Uh." He peered around again, waving his hand to make a case appear, he opened it up and pulled out a scroll. "Hitler lost world war 2.. yeah... uh... that one guy will win a lot of gold from the Olympics... two plus two is four..-"
"We mean teach us."
"This is teaching you, you're the only ones to ever understand how I talk." | 2017-09-04T09:58:23 | 2017-09-04T04:08:56 | 280 | 20 |
[WP] Everyone has the date that they will die writen in their forehead, and everyone but themselves can see it. One day, you notice that people around you can’t help but gawk at your forehead. One of them points and says “Wasn’t that yesterday?” | Yesterday, I died.
Well, that’s what the nurse had told me, anyway, when she was coaxing me out of a drug-induced stupor, asking me to piss in one of those stupid cups so they could test the amount of medication in my system. Or out of my system.
Whatever.
I hadn’t cared, really. Hah, I died. I could tell that to all of my friends, they might get a kick out of knowing someone that had escaped their assigned-at-birth death clock.
Yesterday, I had overdosed, Valium and Zanaflex and vodka shots, emotionless when I downed them, blank for another fifteen minutes before it actually occurred to me what I’d just done. Blank became frantic. The makeup I’d so carefully painted my face with became a ruined portrait, grey-dyed saline streaking my face and dripping off my chin. The call to emergency services was barely understandable, marred with sobs and hiccups, high pitched and wailing.
I called my mother, and all she had gotten out of me were choked out apologies.
I’d stopped breathing during the call.
The paramedics had to break down my front door.
I was lucky, they’d told me, lucky that they had been able to bring me back. My mother told me that she knew my date, knew it by heart, it had not been yesterday, it had never been yesterday, why was it yesterday?
She’d come to pick me up from the hospital, that day. Yesterday. I was laughing and joking about the attempt, rolling my eyes about attempting to trick fate. What an idiot I was, trying to die before my time? Life had plans for me, didn’t I know?
Mom took me to McDonalds, they hadn’t let me eat or drink anything at the hospital. I downed half a supersized sweet tea before we’d made it to my parent’s house, my childhood home.
I was twenty.
I slept in my mom’s bed, and she had been extremely pushy about keeping me around with her, she needed to watch me. Mom said she never wanted me out of her sight again. She had always been like that, so overprotective, so doting. Perhaps I truly was too sick to live on my own.
When I woke up today, I felt fine. I offered to leave the house, grab her a coffee from her favourite shop for the trouble. She agreed - I didn’t understand why she trusted me. I hardly trusted myself behind the wheel, especially considering yesterday’s psychological disintergration.
Looking at myself in my bathroom mirror, however, brought attention to the fact that I was practically glowing. Deep chocolate eyes once full to bursting with exhaustion were bright and cheerful, the ‘windows to my soul’ flung open for all to see love and light. My skin was unblemished, more beautiful than it had ever been. Ten-year-old scars from precise razor cuts to my left forearm were mysteriously absent. The weight and pain that had settled into my muscles and joints had been completely lifted. I felt like I had been refreshee, renewed, reborn.
Maybe I was still high on Valium.
I got in the car anyway.
My confident stride into a busy coffee shop garnered attention, a strange look here or there from other customers. This wasn’t atypical - I walked around in mismatched clothing, pajamas and no coat during cold winter days, hooded sweaters and beanies in the middle of July.
I ordered myself a smoothie, my mother some weird blended drink with too much chocolate sauce and not enough actual coffee. The barista happily obliged the complex specifications that made my mom’s drink cost like ten dollars - freakin’ ridiculous - smiling and personable during the transaction until I pushed curly bangs away from my forehead.
She stiffened, colour draining from her face.
“Wasn’t that yesterday...?”
How the fuck was a strawberry banana smoothie yesterday— I didn’t respond verbally, just looked at her, confused and slightly out of sorts. Was my credit card expired ... ?
As I went to check, she gestured at my forehead.
I touched my face.
The numbers crumbled off like dirt.
Yesterday, I died.
Yesterday, I committed suicide.
Yesterday, I finally killed what had weighed me down.
Today, I am free. | “Huh? What was yesterday?” I asked Parker, who I barely knew well enough to converse.
“Your, uh, expiration date? We all have it, but none of us can see it ourselves.”
“What are you talking about? I’m only 32! My date can’t be...” I paused. Did he say yesterday?
“What are you all staring at?” I said. I was getting pissed and agitated.
The crowd forming around me was creeping me out. I couldn’t verify anything. I can’t see my, what did Parker call it? Expiration date???
I pushed past the crowd and continued on to work. They followed me to my office building. I went inside and the security guard gave me a puzzled look.
“Mr Everlast, none of us thought you were coming in today,” He moved away from me like I was contaminated.
“Well, I’m here, healthy, and ready to work!” I actually hated my job, so I gave no idea why I said I was ready to work. I took the elevator to the 4th floor and walked to my office. Yes, I have an office, not a partition space, cubicle, “work area” and actual office with a window view of Los Angeles and a locking door!
Not five minutes after I arrived in my office my boss, Ana Plastie came in.
“Trunks,” she exclaimed. Yes, my parents were big Dragonball fans. “Trunks, I never thought I’d see you again! What did you do?”
“What do you mean?” I asked in an agitated voice. “I got up and came to this job, like I’ve done for three years, and I’m going to make money for this company, like I have for three years!”
“It’s a miracle! You’re the first person that I’ve ever met you went past their expiration date! How do you feel?”
“That’s not possible,” I said and waved her off.
“No, you ‘died’ , Er, expired yesterday! It says so on your forehead! It’s a frickin’ miracle!”
“You must be reading it wrong.”
Ana got up and left. The entire 4th floor came to my office and stared at me through my wall to ceiling office window.
“What wrong with you people!” I shouted, as I stood up, the initial crowd began to disperse, but another followed. This went on and on and on.
Finally, around 2 pm a very official gentleman from the Center for Disease Control came and knocked on my door.
“Mr. Trunks Everlast, will you please come with me,”. Two gentlemen followed him in, in hazmat suits. They went over my office, took everything out.
“Where are we going? Am I under arrest?”
“Good heavens no, Mr Everlast. But, you are very unique!” He put his arm around my shoulder, but it didn’t feel comforting at all. | 2020-01-19T12:54:20 | 2020-01-19T12:49:19 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] You, a newly-turned vampire, are thrilled to discover that you CAN eat garlic, walk in sunlight, and see yourself in mirrors, all while being immortal. You are much less thrilled to discover the one major drawback that none of the legends ever got right. | I soar through the night sky, blind to the world as it was to me.
I told myself it wasn’t so bad. Honestly, I tried. Immortality, hypnotic powers, hyper speed – you know, the usual vampire toolbox – it was pretty damn sweet. And let me tell you, you have not lived till you’ve tried AB negative blood. I’ve had full course meals (actual, like, mortal meals, I mean here) that don’t even come close to AB negative blood. Talk about an explosion of flavor.
But the nights…man. It really made me question the whole thing.
If I could do it over? Would I choose to go home with that red-haired girl after Halloween party and get subsequently turned? I mean, let’s be real here, probably. Immortality is pretty damn hard to beat. But, then again…I “looked” down at myself as I flew.
No use wondering, I suppose. Vampire or not, you couldn’t change the past.
A smell wafted over to me from the edge of the forest. Very faint at first, but as my sense focused on it, it became sharper. No…it couldn’t be. I banked, moving toward it till I came upon a two people sitting around a…campfire, judging by the sound. My nostrils flared as I drunk in the scent. AB negative blood, from one of them.
My mouth started to water…figuratively. I don’t really have salivatory glands anymore, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
I’ve been a vampire for a good while now, and I was mostly in control of the ah, let’s say, impulses. But AB negative…it was such a rarity. Such a pleasure that it was a struggle. A real struggle. But I had to wait till morning. I had to. I couldn’t go after them right now.
But then it happened.
One of them got up then cried out – a woman, I could tell by the voice – and fell. She cut herself. I couldn’t see it of course, but the smell. Oh, the smell. It magnified a thousandfold, and before I could catch myself, I was diving toward her, her open wound. I had to have her. I had to have that bloo-
And I was swatted aside, almost into the fire, before making a hasty retreat.
I “watched” nursing slightly singed wings as they got in their car and drove away. I couldn't even fly to follow them.
I sighed, again, figuratively. The movies don’t tell you that vampires are forced turn into moquitos every night.
***
Changed bat to mosquito, since that is way funnier lol. Thank to /u/east_of_the_delplaya for the comment haha! | To be honest, I really didn't expect to wake up as a gods-damned vampire after a foggy Friday night of partying my nose off.
Waking up in the sunlight, I immediately noticed that the sun streaming through my bedroom window was only as irritating as it would have been after a regular hangover.
*Hmm.*
The next few months were a rollercoaster ride that just kept going up and up as I discovered I could eat garlic, see myself in mirrors (I actually **wanted** to look at myself in the mirror now, heh) and the fact that I was functionally immortal. Could I feel pain? Sure. But you get used to extreme pain after a while. Knowing that you never die helps with that.
Then came March, while I was filling in my 1040DCLA.
I mean, I had heard of a 1040A, and even a 1040EZ, but DCLA?
Turns out that the price of immortality is an extra 20% "Vampiric" tax on all income above $18,970.
Dracula wasn't '*killed*' for draining blood, he was taken out by Bureau of Internal Revenue agents who determined he wasn't paying his fair share of taxes.
Abraham Van Helsing? BIR Special Agent-in-Charge.
Don't mess with the IRS. | 2020-10-06T06:58:56 | 2020-10-06T06:33:12 | 5,852 | 768 |
[WP] A man is banished to the wilderness for 20 years. Write his diary entries for his first and last days of exile. | This is a forbidding planet, full of hostile wildlife, a scorching climate, and uncertain vegetation. I have already scanned through my gifted supplies, boons from my family and friends to aid in my survival through my trial. Though meager, as is customary, I believe they will be enough to get me started here. Hunting and gathering tools, some strong rope, and a few fire stones to ward off the chill. My first nights here will not claim my life.
In truth I do not fear for my ability to survive on this feral world at all, my clan has always been hardy and strong and I am no exception. My concern lies with the true reason for our kind’s forced exile: Communion. My psychic sense have always been… subpar at best, and my father has made no bones about his worry that I will turn out like my brothers, a fierce warrior but unsuited for leadership. He has ruled for 120 cycles and is beginning to show his age, by the time I am allowed to return it will nearly be time for his sending. I desperately wish to make him proud, and allow him to safely pass to the next plane.
I have read the guides given to me by our shamans, on the nature of Communion and how to encourage it. I can clear my mind of thought in a heartbeat, and my physical sense are unparalleled amongst my kin. Preparing for contact is a simple thing, I simply cannot figure out how to extend my mind in greeting to another being’s. Perhaps my time on this world will fix that, forcing me to live on wits and instinct will bring me closer to the creatures here, hopefully enough that I might establish Communion with one of them. I also hope that my will proves strong enough to endure the bear of a feral mind, what few connections I have made with my kind have been intense as is, and that is with both minds having received training. I have heard too many tales of gifted upstarts mentally linking with large and fearsome beasts, only to have their minds brushed aside and dominated by them.
Only time will tell, and time is something I have plenty of. For now I will focus on survival, and possibly even comfort should this planet relinquish its secrets to me quickly. I hear a faint howling on the winds, and soon I will see if I am to be a hunter or prey on this planet.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is time.
I have weathered the harsh environment of this planet for two decades and have emerged its master.
Though nothing here can speak the creatures know this planet as Carnor, and I have learned all I can of this beautiful and savage world.
I still remember the night of my first communion, after five long years of grueling seasons, vicious indigenous creatures, and dangerous fauna. A storm destroyed my camp, I was wounded after fighting a pack of four legged hunters, and I was locked in mortal struggle with the last beast left alive. We both bled from many wounds, our life forces dangerously close to ebbing away, and in my desperation I reached out to a mind that was as hurt and scared as mine.
Communion.
Our bond was… intense. I recall spending several days crawling around on all fours hunting with the beast, nursing our wounds and regaining our strength, before my mind returned to me.
Abrecan became my best companion in the years to follow, showing me the way his kind hunts and gathers. I taught him what I could of logic and reason as well, and though he never developed the capacity for speech he certainly had the ability to display cunning.
My next Communion was with a great two legged beast I call Brutus, after Abrecan and I found him wounded and abandoned by his pack. This Communion was different, an extended hand of mercy and care instead of a frantic gambit for survival. I learned why Communion is so important, and powerful, a skill for my people. It wasn’t just my will that met with Brutus’, but Abrecan’s too. The three of us shared the load of our minds connecting and we all were enhanced by it, learning of each others ways and customs. It was a feeling unlike anything I could even describe.
Here I stand years later, Communed with nearly every creature I come across, linking this world’s wildlife in a strong and secure web of understanding and trust. Hunters still hunt prey, but together we have forged new means of doing so. Creatures bred specifically without being communed, still acting on their base instincts to be hunted and eaten without having the burden of understanding placed on them. We work together to build shelter, cure the sick, and watch over our lands when rival packs wander in. Though I insisted we all remain equals, the creatures of this planet still treat me as Alpha to all, their protector and master, and I take my role extremely seriously.
Ironically I came to this planet to learn to lead, so I might take my father’s crown from him, and I find myself needing to designate an heir of my own. Abrecan has long since passed, but I have decided that Brutus shall take my place as Alpha here. He has mastered Communion alongside me, and understands the importance of the peace and connections we have forged. I look forward to returning soon, to see how Carnor has grown in my absence.
It occurs that these thoughts and stories can be found throughout this diary I have kept, an epic ledger of my growth, adventures, and ultimately my ascension. But I suppose I am simply feeling nostalgic, knowing that this chapter of my life is at a close. I am ready to lead my people now, but I will never forget the savage world that made me who I am. | Day 1:
I’m staring into a fire. Surprisingly. When the escort first dropped me off, ditching me along a cracked, overgrown highway, it was probably noon. They didn’t leave me with much, but I managed to get some flint and magnesium smuggled into my cell last night. It took me a while to find a place that didn’t seem ripe and open, calling for unwanted attention. It was almost dark by the time I gathered the firewood. I was sure I would end up spending the night in the dark forest, a shuddering, stupid-cold, scared old man. Somehow I got a flame going. I have food tonight. A few cans, along with the canteen of water. Nothing else.
Day 11:
I find myself thinking about the Tenby Guard more and more. Ironically, the skills I learned as a young soldier keep me alive now. When I was in the Tenby Guard, we would go out ranging for weeks – even months, on rare occasions. We always lived off the land where we could. I no longer have the strength I once did, but my muscles remember.
I rarely thought about those days as I grew older, but I was not surprised when they arrested and banished me, not after all the people had heard. I accepted it from the beginning. Even during the trials, I never really thought about it. All those horrible things that happened – it feels like they happened to someone else. I didn’t do those things. I’m just an old man. I know I did, but that’s how it feels.
Day 23:
I remembered something today. Something I haven’t thought about in a long time.
Gulfcrest. Of all the crimes the people raved about, Gulfcrest was cried the loudest and most often. Those days are all a haze to me, but today I recalled one of the incidents that happened during the battle.
We had been raiding Gulfcrest’s lands for weeks. We found their defenses lacking, but they always burned their own crops and supplies before we could get them. We were all suffering ourselves then, many of us sick with fever and hunger.
We finally assaulted their main settlement, taking many casualties ourselves. We spared few when we finally overcame them and we took everything.
I remember blood and screaming. Drunkenness. The actions of men who have endured the extreme. Gulfcrest had surprisingly little in the way of supplies and food. They had been picked apart by raiders for decades, with few stores built up. In our anger, many of us took it out on the survivors.
Now people condemn us, the people of Tenby. We suffered for them. Even after the battle of Gulfcrest, we sent what little we took back to the city and its starving people. We took almost nothing for ourselves. Now the city flourishes, preserved through desperate times by men like us. They survive because of us, and now that they have wealth and food and luxury they discard us for what we did.
It was a long time ago, but I can see it more clearly now. I have little else to do out here other than contemplate the past and the future.
Day 597:
Tenby lays before me now. I have spoken to General Mills and we have decided we'll move on the city tomorrow. I first met Mills in the Tenby Guard. He and I were some of the first to reunite and find each other in the wilderness, and it was he and I who first began to spread our influence in the lands surrounding the city.
I wonder if they realize who lies at their door. They threw us out, many of us in our fifties and sixties, the hundreds who had served this city, for what we did. We have come back to them. They should have killed us. Now we lead other men into battle, men we have turned into soldiers. We have not forgotten how to sack a city. I will fight here myself. Mills gifted me with an M1 carbine he discovered. I will put it to good use.
Day 599:
Tenby weeps. I have come home.
| 2015-05-16T15:55:51 | 2015-05-16T15:49:03 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] As punishment for his sins, a human is sentenced to battle endlessly against hordes of demons with nothing but a knife. Satan's court laughs at him for a few thousand years... until he starts winning the battles. Then they start screaming in terror. | "You killed a child."
"I killed a monster!"
"You killed a child."
"She was a monster. She was killing animals, people's pets, cutting things, people.... she was no child!"
"You cut her open and watched the life pour from her body."
"She attacked me! I had to-"
"DO NOT LIE IN THE PRESENSE OF YOUR JUDGMENT!...We know all. The lies that saved you from judgment in your mortal life will be of no service to you here."
"She had to die! She had to..."
"You watched her suffer. You enjoyed it. You could have killed her quickly but you watched her beg... plead... whimper... it gave you joy."
"SHE KILLED MY CHILD! WHAT ABOUT HER LIFE? WHAT ABOUT-"
"This is not about that life or that sin. This is the judgment of yours."
"......"
"You killed a child."
"........"
"Do you accept this sin and the fires of hell?"
"......."
"If you do, you will be burned away. Your existence cleansed from this world. Purity can still be attained."
"It was no sin..."
"It is a stain. A stain that will not be allowed to soil the sanctity of heaven. Your options are hellfire or suffering. Show yourself mercy, your hatred is not welcomed here."
"It was no sin..."
"Let me warn you. This is your last and final choice. All that is left for you is to suffer and face your sin or the cleansing of your existence by hellfire."
"CHOICE? Choice? What choice did my daughter have? What mercy was shown to her?"
"She has been judged. Her place in the serenity of heaven secured. A place where your hatred is not welcomed. Now choose. The time of your judgment has arrived."
"Fuck you. She was a monster who kill my child. I'd kill her again if I had the chance."
"........"
"........"
"So be it. I will give you that chance. Over and over again. The flames of her judgment have fragmented her being. Her forms contorted and varied, her vestiges many. You will face the legion of her suffering, suffering she endures because her life was taken before she could seek redemption, before she could understand and learn to repent. Like you, she was offered hellfire. But she did not understand, she did not want to vanish. All she wants to do is exist. And now she suffers because of your sin and her inability to grasp her own."
A knife materializes before the sinner.
"The blade you took her life with will be your only tool. Use it to either end her suffering or drag it across your neck, end your own, and submit yourself to the cleansing hellfire. That will be your only release. You have been judged." | When I was put here, I was just being killed again and again and again. Really, I never put up a fight during the first few years. The demons I was fighting against were… concerned by my lack of resistance. Apparently they only get paid if I put up a fight. It was then that I received some form of actual training, despite them saying that it was against the rules. They went easy on me, giving suggestions disguised as insults, killing me after a certain amount of time to avoid suspicion. I thought I was improving very little, until I killed one. He had the biggest smile on his face when he came back. The look of a proud father. On another of one of the rounds between waves, I found some notes in my dead trainers’ pockets. They had families that they were trying to take care of and this was the only source of income they could utilize. So I decided to start a revolution. The others couldn’t join because they could only be brought back if I killed them, so I just trained harder. I was pushed back as far back as I could be, but I was making progress. I managed to push an inch against them. Now, I’ve gone miles. I can hear the ones who put me here screaming… because they know all revolutions require the blood of the leader. And I intend to do so. | 2021-10-29T06:36:58 | 2021-10-29T04:26:11 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] When the zombie virus broke out, you were prepared. You quickly became the country's #1 zombie hunter - until science found the antidote to the virus that turns zombies into healthy humans again, retroactively making you the #1 mass murderer. | The trial was kinda a joke. I mean, I get that they had to do it, but considering the plague at its height infected almost half of humanity, you'd figure most everyone killed or contributed to the killing of \*somebody\*. I'm probably not even the guy with the biggest kill count overall, that goes to the pilot who loosed that nuke on Mumbai.
But I was the face of it. While most of America was cowering behind the Rocky Line, I was broadcasting live on Twitch and Youtube, big smiles and big guns coming to you live from the zombie occupied East Coast. Tips, interviews with experts, some half-assed comedy and a LOT of creative zombie killing. Five times a week for 8 hours a day (12-16 on holidays) I was not only the most popular live streamer, but for one glorious interview I was the most watched broadcast in human history (by percentage of un-infected eyeballs.)
A one on one with the president of what was left of the U.S. of Goddamn A.
I was doing my old format, joking and asking questions from the chatters while asking the President to name celebrities. Then I'd take my Remington, pick out someone from the crowd that looked like the celeb named and fuckin drill'em. It was a bit from a old movie and a little hackney'd but everyone had fun with it. Kinda took the piss out of the ghouls for the kids at home, make the whole thing look like a joke huh?
Anyway, I had just taken out someone who apparently looked like POTUS's high school bully (He kinda didn't get the game) and I was time to wrap up. I said I had fun, and he looks right down the barrel of the camera in whatever undisclosed shithole he was hiding in and says "Son, you're doing your country proud. Keep up the good work." I tossed a frag over my shoulder and into the crowd of Z's below. "Is that an order sir?" I lazily quipped.
Fucker announced the cure 12 hours later.
He got me off though. Not directly, through a pardon, but when over 300,000 individual murder charges are dropped overnight the President might have something to say about that. Now all I have to worry about it the millions of surviving relatives trawling through two years of archived live streams, looking to see if it was me who clapped their mom.
Dipping out of the country won't be hard. I still have all of my pre-plague I.T. certs, and there are plenty of countries that had far harsher responses to the infected who now find themselves in desperate need of skilled labor. I'm sure that after things settle, nobody's going to come looking for revenge.
But since the cure, I haven't been sleeping as well. Not full nightmares, just... rough going. I have to take a couple Ambien, maybe have a beer. I keep having the weirdest fucking dreams about celebrities. | I really thought I was doing the right thing...
I really did.
I still do. I know they don't agree with me, I know they all think I'm crazy, I know they all think I was wrong, I know they pat themselves on the back and look at me in horror, telling themselves that they would never have done what I did. I know they look down on me, judging me from their towers of righteousness, referring to as an unhinged horror who unleashed needless death.
Look at them, pleading their case, condemning me in the eyes of the law. Look at them, pulling out facts about my childhood, trying to paint me as an unstable psychopath.
They are all cowards.
I did what I had to do. I protected them as they locked themselves up, leaving the rest of us to die. I killed because I was good at it and I would do it again if I had to tomorrow.
I know my name and deeds will go in history because I DID THE RIGHT THING. COWARDS. FOOLS. I SACRIFICED MYSELF SO THAT YOU WOULD LIVE AND you still can't see it from my perspective, calling my words a rant, calling me insane, calling me a murderer when I SAVED YOU.
I look around as the judge bangs their gavel, see the zombie like glare in members of the audience. I hear the words 'sentenced to death' and I start laughing as tears roll down my face.
I did the right thing. I don't care about what society or you all think of me.
I did the right thing. | 2022-01-17T12:55:01 | 2022-01-17T12:19:15 | 945 | 212 |
[WP] The year is 2022. A virus has wiped out everyone over the age of 60, decimating world governments and and the mighty 1%. Generation X is too relieved from the constant badgering of their parents to rebuild society. It's up to the Millennials to put the world back together. | The world shook when all of our elders fell ill.
Then it froze when none of them recovered. It turns out there there were more citizens 60 and up then there were in the younger generation.
I know it shouldn’t seem like it’s all that surprising, but personally, I had never really thought about it. Families were devastated and ripped apart and world governments fell as our leaders faded away.
The first thing I did was look into the virus that started it all. I wanted to ensure that it wasn’t going to return in 40 years and kill the world again, myself included.
A lot of the science labs had to combine. Funding and leadership had dropped significantly, but I was able to join one in my hometown that had vials of the virus left over to study. They didn’t turn anyone away, especially when they were eager and had a laboratory background.
We partnered with everyone we could to bring money in and keep the equipment running so that we could run tests. We wanted to know where it had come from and how it worked. I spent 15 hours a day in that lab, and some nights I would sleep on a little box pushed against a wall.
The room was cold and a dim light on the ceiling never turned off. The sleep I got there was usually from sheer exhaustion, but I knew I wasn’t the only one. Science drove us- discovery gave us the fuel to keep going.
Afterall, wouldn’t we all know someone that turned 60 soon? Weren’t we all going to age? Shouldn’t someone figure out a cure while the governments rebuild?
***
“Matt,” Alex called from the doorway of my private lab.
I turned my head half an inch, hoping he was looking closely enough to see the movement. I had my eyes down at a sample and didn’t want to risk missing the reaction.
“Lori wants to meet us in the breakroom,” Alex called again.
“K.”
I heard his feet walk away. They weren’t in the direction of the breakroom, despite his proclamation- he must have been sent to let us all know.
Ever the errand boy.
Out of sheer habit and human curiosity, I glanced up at the door. It was open, and empty with nothing of note in the hallway. Shaking my head I looked back down, and the entire sample was purple.
“Fuck,” I muttered and shoved it in the dirty tool bin.
An ache began to form behind my eyes. I was tired, and getting careless. It wasn’t going to help anyone.
Humanity couldn’t risk its leaders dying off again.
With no inclination to be badgered about the meeting in the breakroom, I pulled my gloves off my hands, and stripped off my coat and glasses.
I had another sample to use, but it would keep.
Lori would not.
I threw my outerwear in the cot, and made my way down the hallway, hoping I wasn’t wasting time for another useless staff meeting.
The lights of the halls flickered as a I walked. It was a normal occurrence but in my current state plus agitation at being pulled away, the effect seemed intensified. It felt like a strobe light keeping pace with me. I would see my foot moving in front of me, and then I would see the pale tile floor.
By the time I got to the break room, my eyes felt strained and my mood had turned from sour to…mostly odd. A small spike of anxiety rolled through me as I left the hallway, the kind that felt familiar in a “empty hallway of a haunted house” type way.
I rolled my shoulders and sat down next to my associates. It was silly, and I knew I just needed a nap.
Several moments after I arrived, I heard two sets of footsteps coming from the flickering hallway. My heart picked up its pace a notch just before Lori and Alex walked through the door.
Trying not to think about the fact that I was losing my mind a little bit, I trained my focus on our fearless and slightly annoying leader in these dire times.
She took her place against the wall in front of all of us and cleared her throat. “I have…news.”
Lori let it hang in the air with an expectant look on her face.
When none of us chimed in with questions, she continued. “This morning I found something in my sample. I managed to break apart an outer shell and spotted it…” She hesitated again, crossing her arms over her chest. “I found a signature.”
“A signature?” a voice to my left asked.
“A signature,” Lori repeated. “Left by the designer of the virus.”
/r/beezus_writes | It seems the 1% had a pretty significant role to play. No-one really understood macro economics, but it turns out the entire global economy was lubricated by the 1%'s cashflow and assets, and that it's really, really hard to rebuild society from the ground up.
The first few weeks and months after the virus were total chaos. Everything was up for grabs and most things were taken. Now we're scattered in local clusters, the largest grouping not even the size of an old mid-level U.S city. There are thousands of clusters the world over, each organized and governed differently, each operating independently. The wars and conflicts are already starting over resources, each grouping coveting power plants and granary stocks and the other essential infrastructure pieces that made the old world tick.
"Turns out humanity is pretty fucking baseless." The speaker's tone was irreverent, disconnected. She was short, wearing a faded American Eagle jean jacket that fit a bit too tightly. "We deserve it."
The scene that sparked her detached derision was a few feet in-front of them, a burnt out husk of a farmhouse with a few blackened corpses splayed out on the front steps. It looked like they'd escaped the house only to be set on fire outside.
"Not much to do about it, Alisa," her companion said, resigned. "Let's just head to the next one, hopefully we'll be able to scavenge something there."
In the immediate weeks after the virus agricultural production plummeted, leaving millions of cattle, hogs, and chickens to starve to death. Those suckling from the modern-teat of streamlined, automated civilization couldn't fend for themselves or survive out in the wilderness. Once the trans-oceanic tankers stopped sailing and the cargo planes stopped flying, everything collapsed. Mass waves of human deaths followed.
"At least we're done with the factory farms," Alisa said, already walking towards the next house along the desolate country road. "Better to starve to death with finality than be a part of a continuous chain of death at the wrong end of consumption."
There wasn't much to say, really. Humanity imploded. Global society was a house of cards. Those left wander a devastated landscape, looking for gems and treasures that were every day items in the world that came before. FIAT is a thing of the past, Bitcoin was not even worth thinking about it. Humanity had regressed all the way back to bartering.
"We've got a blank slate, though," Jason mused. They were always discussing the fate of the world. "We can rebuild it in our image, something unique and grand."
Alisa scoffed. "More like we're writing on a used sheet of paper that has a giant X marked over the previous text," she said, turning down another of the private dirt tracks. A large house could be seen through the trees, looking warn but not entirely dilapidated. It was quite a ways down the road, maybe that is why it had been spared. "Society as we knew it is all around us, but we're never going to be able to remove that X. We're too far gone for that."
"The dawn of a new era, then," Jason said, readjusting the shoulder straps on his backpack. "Let's see what this house holds." | 2019-07-26T06:05:02 | 2019-07-26T05:05:06 | 370 | 41 |
[WP] internet goes down. An emergency public broadcast on the television plays "STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE." The radio simultaneously broadcasts the message "EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, GET TO HIGH GROUND." | “But we have no food here! No running water!”
“Dad the internet’s down.”
“When will we know what’s going on?!”
I lifted my flashlight up over the man’s shoulder, the pale faces of his family squinted and cowered from the glare. I saw the familiar yellow glow reflecting on the walls of the hallway, emitted from the family’s TV.
The man continued to speak as I fumbled on my belt for assistance. I knew I was making them feel uneasy; I hadn’t once looked them in the eye.
“You can’t lock us up indoors like this! It’s barbaric! The police said you were coming with supplies and information but frankly you’ve done fuck-all!”
“Jerry please don’t-“ His wife protested.
“You’re not locking us up in our own home! You’re our soldiers you’re here to serve US!”
He spoke with an entitled tone, a misplaced authority as if he alone could handle the responsibility of his country’s well-being and security. A headmaster or a manager I thought, uneasy with orders from a grunt like me. Somewhat like my old man.
Things could not get hostile, there was no time.
“Listen to the TV sir, just stay inside, stay down, and stay quiet.” The words came out like a recited song lyric, I was starting to build a rhythm with the sentence.
A soft voice came from the back; “Look at the TV… what’s it telling you?”
I glanced up, catching sight of a young girl crouching down with a child. The boy looked back at the broadcast, his face lit by the yellow screen.
“Please stay indoors”
“and…”
“Don’t look outside.”
“That’s why we’re closing your curtains. We’re all safe here together. Together we’re a unit.”
The child nodded with uncertainty.
“My kids are scared! I’M scared! You’re not telling us anything!” Once again I was faced with the father.
“Look after your family. Stay inside, stay down, and stay quiet.”
I turned to leave but the old man was not satisfied with my orders.
“YOU CAN’T-“
A sudden wash of white noise drowned out the scene, followed by a croaky and calm voice emitted from my belt; the signal scarred by feedback.
"Evacuate immediately! Get to high ground! No civilians."
My radio fell silent.
I glanced up, the man's eyes became wide and his grip on my arm tightened. I could see it coming together for him, the cogs turning, working out the situation.
My hand was on my gun before he could say a word, the bullet deep in his chest before he could move any closer. My ears rung loudly as his body fell back into his family’s arms as though crashing into deep water. In a swift motion I reached forward, pulling back the front door to wipe away the terrible scene in front of me, just in time to muffle the shriek of his beloved.
I paused.
With a march, I stepped forward towards the front garden gate. What lay behind me fell into the past, no guilt, no shame.
They would all be gone soon. A clean slate.
------------
This is my first attempt at this! I think I may have missed the party but any critique is welcome!
| Norman was asleep and purring loudly on Norman's lap. Norman himself was a bit drowsy as he watched the labor day weekend NCIS marathon. His eyes were drooping and his thoughts were wavering uncertainly between giving in and drifting off or staying awake for just one more episode.
Suddenly, Gibs was interrupted mid-sentence by some odd security alert. This brought Norman fully awake and he sat up straight in his chair. Norman lazily uncurled in his lap and trotted off into the kitchen.
"Goodness, what's this?" Norman mumbled to no one in particular.
The screen shown blue with large white letters: STAY INDOORS AND DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE.
"Oh my," thought Norman aloud. "That is very troubling." He proceeded to pull down the shades in all of his house, constantly mindful not to look out the windows.
When he got to his son's childhood room he noticed the radio was on. Norman liked to leave the radio on low in there. It reminded him of when Norman jr. was a boy. There were always sounds coming from that room back then.
Now, however, the radio wasn't playing music. Instead a message was playing on repeat every so often interspersed with a loud emergency brodcast tone. The message was this: EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY GET TO HIGH GROUND.
A moment passed. Then Norman sat down heavily on the bed. It had finally happened. He had known this day would come. He had tried to live a quiet simple life. A nondescript life that would be of no interest to anyone. But they had found him anyway.
"Best fetch Norman and be on with it." Norman grumbled in an uncharacteristically grumpy tone. He plodded off towards the kitchen to find the cat.
| 2017-01-27T04:28:55 | 2017-01-27T01:07:58 | 89 | 47 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | They called themselves the Taxmen. Apparently some form of tithing on their world that featured in a prominent expression. A few thousand stong. Nothing before the might of the Belathon Empire. We spanned a thousand Galaxies. We, who took planets for sport, and to offer our mates as dowry. What had we to fear the last survivors of a dead world whose inhabitants we'd destroyed to test a weapon. They'd had a few colonies though, which grew, and spread out. At first our intelligence service had tried to track them, suspecting retribution, but none came for a century and we assumed they'd merely counted themselves lucky.
We were so wrong.
They'd simply taken time to breed, and amass power and influence. To increase their numbers and strength. To rally our enemies against us. We have fought species with hive minds before, they're simple creatures with a single great weakness, predictability. But the Taxmen weren't predictable. They were shaddows lashing out from the darkness, generals leading enemy armadas, citizens on our own controlled planets committing acts of domestic terror. They struck all at once, from a million directions, on the 101st anniversary of their planets destruction. We lost the fringes of the empire first. Contested space conquered by enemy armadas lead by brilliant taxman generals. Slave planets in open revolts incited by taxman spies and using weapons brought in by taxman smugglers. Then the body of our empire began to fall dark. Planet after planet wiped out with hidden bombs and viral warfare. One world we'd used as a rearing facility was conquered with vulmanarks. They'd been domesticated and trained to hunt our young exclusively. We attempted to close ranks, protect our homeworlds, but it was for naught. A single taxman ship broke through the blockade and flew into our neatest star. We assumed that it had been an act of protest, self-immolation to gain sympathy, until the star went supernova. It pulsed with energy, blasting six of our eight worlds with so much radiation that our leaders and noble families cooked in their homes. Our ships were rendered useless as the star's electromagnetic waves disrupted their power cores and communications. Some tried to flee, only to fly from the Galaxy into a wall of enemies in all sides and meet a swift end.
We are trapped here. Our scholars estimate our star will collapse on itself in the next millennium, but that time will be meaningless. The electromagnetic waves, and radiation, have rendered escape impossible. Even our technology for daily life has failed. We expect that within the next year most of the planets population will have starved. Those who do not will suffer a worse fate entirely. A slow death by radiation poisoning. A small unmanned craft crash landed a while ago. It contained nothing but a golden disk and a message written in the language of the Taxmen.
"We came in peace. You did not. Our species survived. Yours will not." | we thought of them as saviors when they first came they expected immediate surrender on our part. They thought after slaughtering millions of lives we would surrender. they were wrong. We were faced with what could have been our destruction our annihilation but we would not so easily bend into their fold. Nay we rose against our attackers when they struck our cities we reverse engineered their technology and took the fight to the heavens where they came from. We used our own ships our own weapons of mass destruction and we slaughtered them like the dogs they were. They attempted to resist our retribution of course, They fought tooth and nail against us but they underestimated our ferocity as well as unleashing futuristic technology against them we used old tactics boarding ships and engaging in close quarters combat. We fought for years and we chased them down across the galaxy to their homeworld where we brought retribution to their doorstep we invaded their cities burned their capitals glassed their farms. We sent ground troops down to crush any chance they had at resisting our attacks. They came in the thousands but we came in the millions. Millions upon millions of angry and blood thirsty troops ready to revenge their losses back on earth when their cities were destroyed and we were forced to hide underground, Little did these invaders know of our resolve little did they know of our hate. Like striking a hornets nest we came at them as one and we crushed their fleets as one and we slaughtered their troops as one and we burned and glassed their planets and outposts as one. Because of these invaders we became one and we became the most fearsome civilization in the galaxy. | 2019-12-17T22:09:03 | 2019-12-17T11:20:18 | 29 | 21 |
[WP] Describe an average day as aggressively and violently as possible | Steve explodes out of bed in the morning, fist slamming on the bomb-siren, death-to-heathens, Jihad-scream of his alarm. He tears into the bathroom, projects a stream of piss like poison, and drops a turd like a nuclear bomb. Then, a shower. Water bullets down his back, splattering shampoo foam like shrapnel. He doesn’t shave - he’s running late - no time to blade and bleed today. Barely time to do his teeth, throttling toothpaste out the tube. He grabs his towel, flays the dampness off his skin, and dives his limbs into his clothes like Kamikaze off to die.
Outside his building, he shouts down a cab. He checks his email in the car. There is a warzone in his inbox, with emails stacking up like limbs in a machete-fought coup. He flings off as as many grenades as can, en route, then shoots the cabbie a twenty - keep the change.
Jim assaults him at his desk, and shoves a latte in his face.
“I owe you for helping me out with those numbers on Friday, man. If I’d been stuck here myself, I’d have had to cancel my date. Good weekend?”
“Thanks,” says Steve, through a napalm sip of coffee, cauterizing his tongue. “No problem. Weekend was great. Found this chick on Tinder - we Netflixed and chilled.”
They smash their fists together like barbarians at the gate. They are brothers in office-arms. They are lady slaying machines.
Steve gets to work. He punches through Powerpoint, beats up on Excel, and guns down the inbox invaders that want him dead. He eats lunch at his desk, stabbing croutons off his salad, crushing baby spinach and chicken as he impales Dr. Pepper with a straw and bleeds him dry. A meeting destroys the afternoon. His team combusts in silent horror when the client makes a thousand changes, but they endure the rape, then claw like zombies out the door.
Steve gets home at nine. He disembowels his mailbox, gutting it of correspondence, flinging shredded junk mail to the floor. He slaps away the thought of making dinner, and murders a beer instead. Furiously, he stalks through Facebook, lurking and liking at turns. At midnight, he wrestles his laptop shut, chokes the moon behind his blinds, kills the lights, sleeps like the dead. | Wake up to the sounds of screams, at least it sounds like it. I punch the off button on my alarm clock. Stomp out of bed. Bust through the bathroom door, time to intensely scrub my Fuckin chompers. After that I slowly microwave pig intestines wrapped in a pancake slowly suffocating. Was that a scream or just air escaping the packaging while they get hotter and hotter? I kick down my front door as I leave for work. Tongue punch my dog on the way out. I slam the door as I get in my car and I drive to work like I'm running over babies, in a hurry so I'm on time yet slowly so I can feel the crunch. I get to work and I Fuck shit up. Hammer this. Hammer that. Drill holes like I'm Fuckin your mom. I Fuckin devoured my food on lunch break like lion cubs feasting on a fresh kill. That antelope had no Fuckin chance.
To be continues... | 2016-10-17T18:14:55 | 2016-10-17T12:26:20 | 64 | 37 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | "Too bad, Confoundus, looks like my will was again too strong for your feeble powers" said Artillerella with satisfaction, before making a gun gesture with her index finger and thumb and pretending to blow smoke off it.
It was her signature move, and Confoundus would happily let himself take a thousand of her easily avoidable inferno bombs to the face just to see it one more time.
As he was led away in handcuffs, Confoundus tried to appear defeated and angry, Artillerella loved a bit of anger. He couldn't let her see how happy he really was, it'd break her heart.
Artillerella had come around around at a hard time in Confoudus' life, a time when he found himself struggling for purpose, being a terrifying being that the entire world feared had really grown rather boring. He found himself watching "*A Hero Emerges, the Hero Academy Inside Story*" on TV more and more over the years, looking at the new blood, hoping against hope that finally there'd be someone to challenge him. But every time someone looked promising: Cyclonia, Septeroid, even that overhyped windbag Heatwave, they always ended up the same: cocky, drug-addled layabouts who just went for the easy, weak villains, posed for some newspaper photos and backed down the second any villain worth their salt made a challenge.
Then came Artillerella. She wasn't particularly strong, her only power other than the standard flight, enhanced reflexes etc. was her ability to create meteor-like orbs between her hands and hurl them at her opponents. They exploded with an impressive flash, and looked dazzling to watch, but unfortunately they took a long time to charge, were easy to dodge and really weren't all that useful in actual combat.
Nevertheless she'd captivated Confoundus, she was brave. While Heatwave and his gang of celebrity hangers on partied in a nightclub, she challenged Arachniarch, a villain at least five times her strength, as he threatened to unleash his horde of spiders on an orphanage.
Of course she lost the fight, but she'd fought valiantly, and Confoundus was disheartened to see Heatwave wipe the cocaine off his nose and fly in at the last moment to nab the glory, barely managing to defeat the significantly weakened Arachniarch. Artillerella wasn't even mentioned in the news article the next day.
He fell in love with her. Her coy smile, her little blowing-smoke-off-the-gun victory move, the way she fought with such passion in battle. She was everything he'd ever dreamed of. And so one day, the long-feared return of Confoundus came, it had been oh-so-satisfying to smack down the pompous upstarts that had risen to international fame as the so-called strongest heroes. He beat the best, then the second best, and before long all the remaining heroes cowered in fear.
All but one, Artillerella.
Of course Confoundus could have snapped her mind in two in an instant with his psychic powers, but when he looked at that determined grimace framed by that wavy red hair, he just... couldn't bring himself to do it.
"NO, how can this BE?" he'd said, theatrically.
"My powers" Confoundus had continued, waving his arms like a madman
"Your will, it's too strong, my powers can't touch you..."
And that was when the inferno bomb hit him. Such sweet pain, the burning fury of such a sweet honest soul coalesced into a scorching, searing agony that only he could love. He wanted it again and again.
And so he escaped from prison, and so she, again, "defeated" him. And again. And again and again and again.
This was capture number... nine? Confoundus was pretty sure.
"Best one yet" he thought to himself "she's honest to goodness putting up a fight now, might be one day I don't have to fake it anymore.
His daydream was shattered.
"Confoundus, you pathetic old shite" a self-superior sounding British voice yelled from above him.
"I've never liked you if I'm honest, but lucky for you we're on the same team, so I'll help you out of this one."
Shimmer. A pompous villain who carried two daggers and had the ability to move with astounding speed, even for someone with powers.
"Shimmer!" Artillerella's melodic yet firm voice called, as she flew over to protect the police officers escorting Confoundus away.
"Get out of here, or do you want a visit to the burn ward, too?"
Shimmer laughed.
"The burn ward? Oh come on. Maybe I'd have let it slide if I hadn't just heard that *exact* line from Pyrogladiator yesterday. Every fire hero's been using that one, for decades. Seriously, you're a rookie, let Confoundus go and maybe I won't slash you up too badly." Shimmer said threateningly, holding one of his daggers up to the light.
"Don't know if you've noticed" Artillerella said with a smile
"But my arrest profile doesn't exactly seem too 'rookie' to me. A few years ago even you would be running away from Confoundus, and now I've got him wrapped around my little finger." there was that coy smile Confoundus loved so much.
"Now do what you do best, Shimmer" Artillerella said confidently
"And run on home"
"OK that's it" Shimmer said, turning to Confoundus.
"Seriously? You let *her* take you down? Have you heard these lines? Is it possible to kill yourself with psychic powers? Because if I were you I would have tried by now."
"Enough!" Artillerella yelled, as a glowing sphere lit up between her hands.
Nobody even saw the next move, Shimmer flashed through the air around the orb and slashed at Artillerella with his dagger.
Artillerella was by no means a weak hero, but Shimmer was probably the third or fourth most powerful villain in the world, even Confoundus himself wouldn't have found him to be an easy win.
Blood spattered across the pavement and Artillerella fell from the sky. Confoundus felt tears form in his eyes as he heard her body thump against the ground, and half-heard some witty retort from Shimmer before he sped away.
"My love" Confoundus said, his voice cracking.
"My love why did he do this... why?"
The police had long since fled when Shimmer showed up, and so no-one was there to watch Confoundus weep as Artillerella's blood seeped out onto the pavement.
EDIT: I'm very glad people liked this so much, I'll begin writing the continuation immediately after I finish this edit. I'm so happy to have a post of mine get this much attention on this sub, I don't have a subreddit or anything but my comment history is a few more of my writing prompts (I made this account to post on this sub) if anyone feels like reading them.
EDIT 2: Part 2 is up, I replied to the original story with my continuation. Hope it lives up to expectations, I wrote as fast as I could while still trying to maintain quality. | She leaned forward as they cuffed her, allowing her hair to shield her face. And her feelings.
Sam wasn't here, wasn't standing in front of her to give one of his long-winded speeches: her favourite part of their games.
He was always so pleased for a chance to babble about the power of justice and morality to triumph over evil and blah, blah, blah. That wasn't why she loved to listen to him: it was the pure joy and passion that lit up his eyes at those moments, that made him so goddamn attractive as he strode in front of her.
It was the only time he was close enough that she could reach out and touch him, without her having to pretend to kill him - not that she ever did. Even though she was one of the strongest supers on the planet, she was a coward.
But right now, it was taking every ounce of her self-control not to break cover, shatter these ridiculous restraints to demand where he was. Luckily, the cops surrounding her included a young rookie, who was babbling excitedly at the back of the group.
"A new super, froze Samson right up, didn't he? What's happening, is he ok? I heard this guy just came in and *zapped*, swooped right in and immobilised him....are we helping him, or not? I mean, we're all here, shouldn't we be..."
"Shut up, Jake," an older cop, Murray, growled at the kid. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Don't you think we have enough to deal with, with this one? The big guy can handle himself."
They weren't helping him, no-one was there to face the new super. An ability to freeze rival supers into place? Sam would be helpless, could already be dead. Though he had super-strength, it might not be enough to break free. He wasn't one of the greats, like her: his power lay in his passion for what he did, in his belief in himself. But that could also get the fool killed. She couldn't take it anymore.
"Fuck this," she hissed, and used her powers for the first time in years. She hadn't allowed Sam to catch even a glimpse of it, he might have panicked and given up on their rivalry. And she couldn't have that.
She allowed the heat to shoot tendrils of flame around the cuffs, melting it in seconds.
"Catch you later," she couldn't help but say, as the cops gaped at the melted metal. She jumped lightly into the air, and sped to Sam's location: she'd long ago planted sophisticated tracking devices into his suit, so she could always know if he was nearby.
Or far away.
Her unease deepened as she was led to the edge of the city, to the industrial area. She rounded the corner of a filthy building, and saw him in the alley. He was lying flat on his back, stiff as a board.
"Sam! Oh god," she whispered, and she lay her hands on his chest, hoping desperately to feel his heartbeat. Please, let it be there, let her be able to save him, she had a smattering of medical knowledge -
Her hands paused as she felt it - strong and steady. His hand suddenly shot up to catch hers in an iron grip, and he sat upright.
"I knew it," he whispered, his green eyes gleaming as he stared at her. "You broke free from them in seconds, didn't you? You've been wasting my time, Venema, giving up too easily. Why? What game are you playing at?"
"You made up this other villain to prove that I've been giving up too easily?" she asked, and he nodded, grinning widely.
"Now I just need to figure out why," he said, his hand still holding hers. "I've already received a part of the truth from the police - you've been concealing your powers, just as I suspected. Tell me why. Are you stalling, until more of you arrive? What is it? And don't try to lie to me. I can always tell when people are lying to me, face to face."
She knew her pulse was racing, giving her away even as his fingers lay upon her wrist. She wanted to smack him over the head, suddenly - he thought that was his great power, hell, it was the reason he'd chosen his stupid name. But she'd never had any difficulty fooling him. She was *still* fooling him right now, and he was too dense to see it.
"Can you?" she whispered, leaning forward until she could smell him, could kiss him. "Okay, here it is. I've been toying with you because it's amusing to see how easily you're fooled. Because it will make it so much funnier when I crush you in seconds, right before your beloved city."
His face crumbled at the thought, hurt flashing into his eyes, and she regretted her words. How did he ever convince himself of his power to discern the truth?
"Well, now I know," he said quietly, letting her hand go and standing up. "The games are over, Venema. Stand up and face me. If my city falls, it won't happen without a fight, I can promise you that."
"God, you're so stupid," she groaned, and yanked him closer to kiss him, some of the heat she was feeling escaping from her palms and scorching his shirt.
He yelped in pain and stared at her in absolute bewilderment. She slowly managed to get her powers under control - something she'd never had trouble with before.
"Look at that," she said quietly, staring at her hands, and then at him. "You make me lose control, Sam. Getting to the truth has never been your real power."
---------------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2017-10-18T18:23:28 | 2017-09-16T23:45:58 | 5,127 | 471 |
[WP] By the time the knight arrives, the villain's lair is a smoldering ruin, demolished in the battle between the princess and villain. | Save the princess, they said. She needs you, they said. Only you can beat the Demon King, they cheered. And so I rode off towards the sunset, beyond the enchanted forest, in a mad quest to reclaim the princess.
I was the strongest knight in the kingdom, but I've heard of the fearsome stories of how the Demon King could slaughter an entire battalion of soldiers with a single spell. Honestly, I had doubts in my chances of success, and a part of me just wanted to ride off in the opposite direction to avoid the fight. But tales of the princess's beauty mesmerized me.
My age was fast hitting 30, and I have not found any maiden worthy of my attention yet. Perhaps by saving the princess, I would be rewarded with her hand in marriage. And in extension the throne to the kingdom itself.
When I reached the lair of the Demon King, the sight that awaited me was not what I expected. Fully expecting the hordes of his personal guard to attack me, only their lifeless corpses laid on the ground, having been burnt by a powerful spell.
The entire place itself was in ruins. Walls were painted black, mixed with splashes of blood, while small fires were still burning around me. I was afraid, definitely. But more so curious. Was it another knight hoping to claim the princess before me? But the damage alone looked too extensive to be committed by any simple knight. It had to be a magician.
I walked across the smouldering ruin, my sword and shield gripped tightly in my hands. Preparing for the worst. Until the most beautiful girl stepped out from the main building, her clothes and skin covered in ash and blood. But that did not take away her beauty one bit. Her blue eyes sparkled under the moonlight, her golden locks of hair swayed briefly in the wind.
I stood there for a good while admiring her, until she shot a fireball in my direction. If it's not for my battle experience, I would have been scorched right there and then.
"What the hell?" I immediately called out, my shield still raised above me, in case she decided to attack again.
Instead, she sauntered down the cobble staircase, heading towards me. She walked with such grace even in her state, her body moving in a such a beckoning way. Until I felt a tight slap to my face that sent me staggering a few steps behind.
"What was that for?" I shouted again, feeling the stinging pain on my face.
Without even looking me in the eyes, she simply said, "You're late." Her voice was at best indifferent.
"What do you mean, I'm late?"
She turned back and stared at me. "If you have not noticed, I have taken care of the Demon King myself while waiting for you useless knights to come rescue me. And if you don't mind, I feel like going home now."
"But-" I tried to protest, but before I could even finish my sentence, a lightning strike was launched towards me. Again, I dodged it by the inches. No one told me about the princess being adept at magic. Probably no one knew too.
She then pointed the still glowing Demon Staff at me. "Say, you're quite a good looking knight yourself, not to mention agile, you single?"
And that my children, is how I got married to your mother, Queen Victoria the Fearless.
--------
/r/dori_tales | He sat by the fallen pillar of the gate, chewing on a strip of dried meat.
The hanging bridge across the moat to the castle was slashed to bits as was the facade of the castle walls. A fallen tower lay in the murky moat, crushing an enormous wyvern several times larger than a man.
Occasionally, flashes of white light split the air, cutting soundlessly through rock and steel and finally up through the darkened clouds to reveal patches of blue sky.
With one final blast, the entire front of the castle blew forward, splashing riotously in the moat. He drew the hood of his cloak up, shielding himself from the minute debris that flew through the air.
He heard a soft whisper of air and glanced up.
She was drifting across the moat, as if gliding across an invisible bridge. Behind her, in the now revealed courtyard of the castle he observed a pile of corpses, sun bleached and aged.
Her appearance was flawless as usual, her golden hair plaited elegantly around her form. Her white robes had not a spot of blood or dirt. Her form was almost too bright to observe, but dimming as she approached.
He rose, gathering his sword and shield. He bowed when her feet touched the ground before him. "My lady."
"Dear knight."
"I have prepared the nearby village to receive your presence tonight."
"Well done." she stepped past him, heading for his horse. She slid easily into the saddle and drew the grey silken cloak he had brought for her over her form. He came forward, holding the reigns of the horse and walking towards the distant valley where the village lay.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked after a moment. It was an impertinent question, perhaps too informal for someone of his station towards the Holy Princess.
But he saw the curve of her lip beneath the shawl of her cloak, "Indeed, dear knight. Indeed."
The last towers of the castle collapsed behind them with a final tremendous boom as they disappeared behind the crest of the valley.
| 2017-02-02T01:49:34 | 2017-02-02T01:36:15 | 83 | 17 |
[WP] Your whole life you've had the ability to freeze time while freely moving around. You've kept it a secret, using this power mostly for petty theft and personal gain. One day, while rummaging through strangers' purses and wallets in darkened theater, the doors open and someone else walks in. | The cup dropped shattering the silence in the theater. One of the first sounds of the movie. I activated my talent, freezing my fellow movie going, patrons. People mid scare always looked funny to me, eyes wide, mouth in some visage of a silent fear, hair was strewn wildly, it gives me a smile every time.
I put on some soft leather gloves and opened a large black garbage bag. I had about two minutes to collect as much as I could. I had strategically placed myself on an aisle so that I could raid down it, stealing as much as possible. I slid down the aisle grabbing purses, phones, really just whatever I could manage to wrangle off the floor or cupholders but rarely out of hands.
I made my way to the front of the theater and started up the other side. I worked in silence as everyone was frozen the only sound was the rustling of the plastic bag.
The door in the back of the theater opened. I froze. Quickly I stashed the bag in an empty chair and hurried to and an empty seat. Releasing my talent. Peoples yelps and gasps finished in and an awkward flurry of noise. I quickly took off the gloves and watched as the person. Immune to my powers walked down the aisle. An older man using the handle of a cane to walk. His dark bald head bobbed as he walked past me down the slight incline.
Time stopped again.
“I know you’re here,” He said. “Please come out.”
He spotted the bag.
“Wasteful, tsk,” he said. He shook his head. "We can do this all day and I can search each seat."
There was no way this old fart could mean that. I could barely hold the stasis for some three minutes. I watched mentally counting as I had many times as he began his search. Lucky for me he searched in the wrong direction. I continued past the three-minute mark as he was just starting on the far aisle. Four minutes, five, six. I thought of all that I could do with six minutes, who knows how long he could go.
I stood up and bolted down the aisle almost to the top of the incline the air became thick, almost mud like. I pushed through it, struggling to get out of the theater. The old man was in front of me.
“Now that I have found you. You will not get away.” He said. “I could really go for pizza; do you want some pizza?”
The question caught me off guard.
“I will let you go, but don’t try to run.”
The air thinned and my momentum slapped into me, I was no longer mentally running, but was still in the motion of it, I landed in an awkward pile at the man’s feet.
“How did you do that?” I gasped
“Come,” He said, “We can discuss over food. But, first please give this stuff back.” He held up my plastic bag.
I spent the next ten minutes trying to remember where I got the items in the bag and placing them back as well as I could. The old man held the people in the theater until I was done.
“Good, now let’s go.” He nodded.
As we cleared the top row of the theater he released them.
“You know,” He said as we exited the theater. “I was like you once.”
His dark face smiled down at mine. I looked away, he was finely dressed compared to the rags on my body.
“Well I was always taller, and less of a girl, but that's apparent. It looks like you have had a hard life but that doesn’t excuse your behavior in there, and I am sure previous behaviors. How old are you?”
“You are not going to talk, huh? Twelve, thirteen by the looks of you. How about Barros pizza?”
I kept silent.
“Well, Barros it is then, silence is not a vote. I don’t suppose you are going to tell me your name? … I didn’t think so. Ah just as well.”
The pizzeria sat on the corner of a busy intersection. Cars sped up and down the street. He opened the door for me.
“Ladies first.” He said and entered behind me.
The hostess gestured to an open booth and we sat down. He ordered a large pepperoni saying something like “all kids like pepperoni.”
I sat sullen and silent as he tried to coax information out of me. I would not speak to him until he gave up and left me alone but as the pizza got to the table my mouth started watering.
No. I would not give in I will not accept his empty gesture. He grabbed a piece and devoured it. The cheese oozed and the crust looked great.
“Well, that’s enough for me.” He said. “Go ahead girl, the rest is yours if you want.”
I gave in and ate four pieces and drank five glasses of water before filling full, he just sat and watched me with an amused smile.
“Well then, you wanted to know how I did that, I could teach you,” He said. “But have one question before I continue.”
I waited.
“Have you ever saved a life with your time dilation?”
I shook my head.
“Well first things first. I save lives. ” The restaurant’s din died and the people froze. He pointed out the window. “You see those two cars?”
“Yes,”
“There’s your voice,” He smiled, “It looks to me like they are going to crash. There is a child in the back seat, It's not buckled in. Save the child. Consider this your first lesson.”
****
Hey! Thanks for reading. Check out my other work here r/Okay_writing.
****
Part 2 is located [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Okay_Writing/comments/8d8fit/in_good_time_pt_2/?st=jg5i3h03&sh=247a161f) | "Good evening, Jack."
The three whispered words broke the silence with the thunderous intensity of artillery fire. The same alien silence which took Jack months to get used to. Even the quietest of nights had the comforting lulls of wind and distant cars, the soft murmurs of crashing waves or spattering rain. Jack grew accustomed to true silence, a disquieting, impossible absence of sound guaranteed to turn mad anyone who experienced it for more than a few minutes. He had controlled and mastered that silence, with only his own breathing and heartbeat as companions, to have it then broken by the only sound more dreadful than that absence. A foreign human voice.
"Surprised?", the voice continued. From his first row seat, Jack could barely see the silhouette at the theatre's entrance. Behind him, the famous logo of a Hollywood producer, stopped in the middle of its ten-second montage, projected its carefully crafted image around the room, illuminating the still faces of the audience in yellow and gold tones. The figured moved further into the warm light of the screen.
"Who are you?" asked Jack.
"Who I am is not important right now. I'm more interested in your bag there."
Jack looked instinctively to the duffel bag at his feet. The bag he had brought that night, and where the wallets, watches and jewelry of three hundred unsuspecting theatregoers rested accusingly. In his guilt, Jack blinked, and the bag was no more.
"A rather profitable evening, Jack. It's a shame I had to show up. Not as great a shame, however, as you lining your pockets with that of others."
Seemingly still in the same place, by the double doors of the room, the figure held the bag, opening it for Jack to see. Its insides were empty, devoid of the evening's loot.
"How?" he demanded, to a loud laughter from the silhouette.
"Well, Jack, that is just the question these folks would ask themselves once you were through with your little trick. As you can see, I have some tricks of my own too. It will take you time to be able to stop someone else's time, but, evidently, it is in any case possible. You may, just like these people, go home in the bliss of ignorance, of course, although I would advise against it."
Jack could hardly believe it, and his increased heartbeat seemed to reverberate across the acoustic room. Strange, terrifying thoughts were now occurring to him: not only was there someone else immune to his universal freeze, he was apparently able to fall prey to that someone's identical powers.
"I'm not alone, Jack. It took us some time to find you. You're quite good at this. But we're better. Morally better, too. We're not keen on petty theft and secret spying. We like to be a little help; the seemingly random chances and fortunate events which stop greater evils from stepping forth into the cruel timeline of the world. We're the ones who push you safely away from oncoming traffic, the ones who take fingers away from triggers and buttons, who unlock doors and clear ways. The invisible fate who helps the world. Who tries, at least. And we'd like your help, Jack. We need it." The figure moved further inside the room. Their whole body was now awash in the golden light of the producers logo. A hand was extended, approaching him.
"Of course, you could say no. You could refuse and continue with your career of reproachable intermissions. We would still find you, of course, and stop you every time. And time is precious in our activities, you know that. So don't waste ours; and most importantly, don't waste yours. You have five seconds to decide."
Jack gulped. Reluctantly, he tried to analyse his options. There was little he knew of this figure, the one unaffected by his particular powers. But there was also little choice available to him, and no possibility of freezing an already frozen room to consider the offer. Heartbeat now as intense as the same artillery fire he had heard, he tried to stop the room like the figure had done to him, but to no avail. The silhouette still moved and got closer. Sometimes, he thought, there was no time to stop.
"Time's up," they said.
The only thing he could do was go back to how he used to solve these problems, in a past now infinitely distant, before noticing his extraordinary powers. Trust your instincts, he thought. And he saw himself rise with an extended hand over the golden room, heart beating with the same precision and calmness of a perpetual clock.
******
*/r/Camberlot* | 2018-04-16T09:01:46 | 2018-04-16T08:53:46 | 1,915 | 98 |
[WP] "So, you don'r rule over Hell?" "No," replied Satan. "Hell is much older than me or even my followers. The original inhabitants of this place are the ones in charge. They ruled over us, before we managed to escape." "Escaped?" Satan sighs. "Let's just say, there's a reason God built Heaven."
Edit: Wow. Thank you all for your responses and stories. It has been fun reading through them.
^Yeah, ^I'm ^aware ^of ^the ^typos. ^My ^bad. | We stood before Satan, a flaming sword in my hand. I felt like a fucking failure. “So, you don't rule over Hell?” I pointed my flaming sword at his blood-red throat. I had no idea if it would hurt him.
He scoffed. “He didn't tell you that? What deal did you make with the Holy Father?”
Not the answer I wanted. I slapped him with the flat of the fiery blade. A long crack appeared, dark black ichor leaking from it. So Satan wasn't invincible.
*You are supposed to bring him to me. Not hurt him*, God spoke in my mind. He had been guiding us in this quest against Satan. He had promised us the throne of Hell if we delivered him Satan.
God probably told Jim that we are not to hurt Satan because he put a hand on my shoulder. He held a flaming trident in his hand. “Just answer the fucking question. Don't test our patience. Do you or do you not rule over hell?” Jim asked.
Satan looked at us for a moment before answering. “Hell is much older than me or my followers. The original inhabitants of the place are in charge.”
If Satan was speaking the truth that meant God, the Holy Father had manipulated us.
*I cannot give you all the answers*, God said indignantly.
“Who are the original inhabitants? What are you doing in the palace if you are not the ruler?” I asked.
Satan sighed. “The movement of time is a bit wonky, don't you think. Sometimes I feel everything happened a long time ago, sometimes I feel it was just yesterday.”
Jim punched Satan. He had more patience than me but even he was losing it. “We need to-the-point answers.”
“Don't care for a good story?” Satan spat. His spit was hot lava. I wondered why didn't he attack us with lava-spit?
“There is a reason God built Heaven... and Hell,” Satan continued. “When we came into existence, God and I, we found dangerous beings, the Elders, that ruled the cosmos, the world, every-fucking-thing.
“We both fought them for eons but they were very powerful. Our powers were depleting and it was clear, soon we would lose.
“So, as a last-ditch effort, I used all my remaining power to create Hell, a plane of existence which would trap the Elders. God built Heaven, a safe haven for us.”
“So what are you doing here, in Hell?” Jim asked. “No safe haven for you?”
“Cunts, I used all my power to build Hell, I didn't even have the strength to travel to Heaven.” Satan sighed. “But there is no point, I have already told y'all this. Many, many, many times.”
“What?” Jim and I both asked. Suddenly the temperature of the room dropped. The flames of my sword and Jim's trident extinguished.
Satan met our eyes. “You both were brave. Maybe in the next iteration you would be successful in breaking me out.”
“What are you talking about?” I shouted. I wanted to punch him. Jim too was confused. *God, what is he talking about?* I asked God but the Holy Father was mum.
“It's a loop. You both are angels who had undertook the task to break me out of Hell, so I could reclaim my place in Heaven beside God. Y'all failed again, and again.”
“Why don't we remember anything?” I asked.
“Y'all were going insane from reliving the same moment again and again. I took away your memory and asked God to guide until you both succeeded.”
My insides turned to lead. Jim's eyes were wide. Was Satan lying? I remembered it all now. Heaven. Meeting God. Our journey to Hell. “Why are you telling this now?”
“Because this is the end of the iteration, you are going to die now. They have arrived.”
*I am sorry*, God said in my mind. *We'll meet again. Probably even win in the next iteration.*
“Who has arrived?” Jim asked.
“An Elder. It's behind you.” Satan whispered.
I turned. | I scrunched up my nose and watched Satan with intent. Unlike how everything had described him, he seemed like an .....attractive?....demon?
"What might the reason be.?" My tongue betrayed me and the question just rolled off my tongue, how did it even matter? I was dead, standing infront of Satan himself, this in itself was the worst case of my worst case scenario.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and in a blink of an eye, I was pinioned to the ground. "W-what..?" I whispered with fear dwelling in my eyes. His body lingered over me, I could see the hollowness in his. His pitch black eyes temporarily immobilised my limbs, but my brain went on to memorise every part of him. A pair of horns erupted from his blonde tousled hair. His body fairly athletic. After probably stood 6'5, towering over my body in ease.
"Jes-...."
"Ah, ah, aahhh.." he warned me, when a little minx appeared out of no where. She lacked his classic good looks, but the terrorizing stare remained consistent with that of her master's.
"Lilith.." he whispered and laid his hand out, a streams of fire erupted through his palm.
The minx inched closer to him, pulling out a branding iron, at the end of it was something scribble in a foreign language. A brand. A brand that was heated using Satan's own fire. Fuck.
"What are you doing? I thought we were getting along well!!" I screamed while trying to fight against my restrains as the minx took the opportunity to drag my tongue out and brand it, right there and then.
I was wrong, so so fucking wrong. I thought dying in a freak accident was painful, this topped it by another 25%. "W-why...?" I whimpered.
"Petty soul, you don't ask the questions, but with time, you shall know of the truth.." his voice lingered in my ears, as if his wet tongue brushed against my lobes, getting my whole body to tremble. Pain. So much pain coursed through me. I could no longer understand the source of the pain, my restrains that seemed like innocent ropes turned to pierce deep into my skin.
Up until now, I didn't know that the dead could bleed, but I did. I felt myself being drained, down right to my tiny pores.
"Welcome to Purgatory! The little power house of Hell!" Ran Satan's voice in my head, and with that came an endless loop of torture and dispaire. All, to keep Him locked in hell. He, who lived off other's pain and was too powerful, even for God to chain. | 2020-07-22T04:07:42 | 2020-07-22T02:20:01 | 98 | 10 |
[WP] In Monsters Inc., A monster goes in one door to scare a child, only to find that the child had made a demonic sacrifice in his bedroom. The child thinks that the monster is a gift from Satan. | I reviewed the file as I approached the door. Age 12 years? That must be a mistake; we never go after them older than 8.
"Jerry, you sure this is the right kid? He's almost a teenager."
Jerry shrugged four of his shoulders. "I double checked it. Technically his screams will work too. They must be getting desperate for doors if we're going after this demographic though."
I quickly glanced through the rest of the information and room layout. Probably best to go with a simple "Peak and 'Eek.'" For you non-scarers out there, it's a more cautious approach whereby I slowly open the door after applying some rusting spray to get that perfect eerie creak. I stay in the shadows so that he can only see my eyes, and then just when his curiosity is about to get the better of him, I *lunge* forward and scare the living daylights out of him. It's a classic.
The door was plain and white, but there was something off. There were scratches on it. Deep ones down to the wood, with some flecks of red. "What the... Hey Jerry, what's with this door?"
"Who cares? Just get in and get the screams and get out, man. We've got a quota to meet."
Jerry was right. 12 year olds get scared too. Some even more so with those crazy hormones running around their brains. I loosened my shoulders and stepped inside. The closet was pretty dark, I could see a flickering light from outside through the slats. Perfect; that's why they'd assigned this one to me. The little sucker still slept with a night light! That would really accentuate my horns while I lurked. They are my best feature, you know.
I misted the hinges slightly and opened the door just an inch or so. It let out the perfect, ominous creak. *Excellent.* I gave it a gentle shove then shrank back, allowing myself to be enveloped by the shadows.
The first thing I noticed was the candles. Ten of them, arranged in a star. *Not a nightlight,* I realized. *Crap.* They were tall and black, dripping wax onto the boring white carpet; that would be hard to clean.
The next thing I noticed was the blood. That would be even *harder* to clean. It glistened ominously in the candle light. I don't know how I knew what it was, but I was instantly sure. 100% definitely blood, drawn into runes in the center of a pentagram.
I stepped forward out of the closet, trying to get a better look. *Just get the screams and get out*, I told myself. *No need to figure out what's wrong with this kid. Just find him, roar, and get out of here.*
Above me, I found the source of the blood: a disembowled cat, hanging from the light fixture on a silver chain. Its face was frozen into a permanent expression of pain and suffering. Clotting blood crusted its formerly orange fur. *Oh god,* I thought. *They sent me to another monster's room*.
Cold metal circled my writst, and I heard the *click* of the handcuffs locking into place. "You're exactly what I wanted," a voice whispered into my ear, and blood-soaked hands stroked my horns. I let out a high, shrill, girlish squeal so loud it would have shattered ear drums.
"Perfect, we got it!" I heard Jerry call out. "Come on home!"
Then the closet door closed behind me, and I was trapped in this world. | The door slid into place. I took a deep breath and gripped the doorknob. I needed to prove myself. I'd barely graduated from Monster University. As this was my first scare it was important to impress my supervisors.
I pushed open the door and roared, hands up above my head. My fangs glinted in the moonlight. My claws extended to six inches. The fur on my back stood up straight.
The child knelt in the middle of the room. Candles circled him, a book and what looked like a skeleton. The child chanted as he stabbed the floor over and over again.
I put my arms at my side. My fur laid down, and my claws retracted. I wasn’t prepared for this.
The boy stopped chanting. He turned around and saw me. He dropped the knife and sprang up. “You came,” he exclaimed. “I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the… the things. And you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood.”
I put my hands up and started backing towards the closet door. “Sorry, kid. I don’t know-“
The child moved towards me. “My mother died, and I got sent to the orphanage.”
This must be a test. I reared back and roared. Fangs dripping, claws extended, fur standing up, murder in my eyes. The boy clapped his hands. He even laughed.
“Perfect,” said the boy. “I want you to kill Grelod. She’s a monster.” He balled his hand in a fist and scowled. “I want her dead.”
What the hell was wrong with him? I wasn't a murderer. I just wanted to scare kids.
"She's in Riften, but I'm sure you know that." He ran up to me and gave me a big hug. "This will be the best thing to happen to me in a long time."
I held my hands up and screamed, trying to get away from the kid. We weren't supposed to touch. I pushed him off of me and ran back through the closet. The door slammed behind me. I huffed and puffed trying to catch my breath.
I hoped this wouldn't impact my performance evaluation.
| 2015-03-07T13:15:13 | 2015-03-07T12:58:48 | 116 | 29 |
[WP] You walk up to a beautiful girl and decided to be cheesy, "Hey, did it hurt?" The girl was surprised and asked "What?"."You know, when you fell from heaven?". The girl looked more shocked, "How did you know? Who are you?" | I sipped on my iced coffee and watched him from afar. He was clearly troubled, sweat was accumulating on his brow and he shook his hands nervously. I scowled as a few grainy bits of coffee grounds slid across my tongue. That’s what I get for buying coffee at a Starbucks inside a Target. I looked down to see my coffee nearly gone and when I looked up again, he was standing in front of me. Still sweaty, still shaking, but with a rather goofy smile on his face.
“Did it hurt?” he asked. The scars on my back throbbed and I bit my straw hard.
“What?”
“You know, when you fell from heaven?”
My eyes widened. I dropped my coffee, grabbed his shirt collar, and dragged him into the nearest alley way.
“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he cried. A clever act but one I wasn’t going to fall for.
“Who sent you?” I growled. I pressed my arm into his throat, pinning him to the brick.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch.”
“Oh so it’s a coincidence that you asked me about falling from heaven? I don’t think so. Who the fuck sent you? Was it Michael? Gabriel? That sly bastard.”
“I have no idea what you’re saying. It was just a stupid pick up line. I’m sorry!”
The spy squirmed beneath me, now sweatier than ever. There was a reason I was so focused on him before and now I knew why. I leaned into him, constricting his throat even more.
“You think I won’t kill you? You think I’ll just let you go? Mercy might be the first rule up there but down here, that shit doesn’t apply.”
The man gasped for air and grabbed at my arm, his short nails digging into my skin.
“You’re crazy,” he choked. “Please, stop.” Foamy saliva formed at the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his stubbled chin. He kicked wildly and his eyes darted left and right.
I paused my killing for a moment. Was this really just a stupid human? A brave idiot who wanted to take me on a date? It was possible.
I lowered the man to the ground and let him collapse in the dirt. He coughed violently.
I cleared my throat. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I thought you were someone else. If you could just forget all about this, that would be great.”
He stood weakly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You really think I could just walk away from this?”
I shrugged. It was a long shot but worth a try. He breathed raggedly and stared down at his shoes.
“Okay, well what do you want to do?”
He whispered something I couldn’t hear.
“Excuse me? What was that?”
“I want you to die,” he muttered. “Sariel.”
“Wha-” I was cut off by the searing pain of a celestial dagger in my side. Dark blue blood began to soak my shirt. The man started to laugh, low and slow. I stepped back and the taste of iron filled my mouth.
“Did that hurt?” he asked.
“Fuck you.”
“Gabriel sends his regards, traitor.”
I gasped at the pain. “I fucking knew it.” | She’s probably joking, has to be. “You’re a real an-“ she covers my mouth. “Don’t say it out loud!” She drags me to an alley before letting me speak “you’re an actual angel? I’m having a hard time believing that.* as if on cue a halo would appear above her head, it was dim and cracked but still a halo. “Now you believe?” I nod “now who are you and how did you know?” “I didn’t know, that was just a cheesy pickup line. I’m Dante. Nice to meet you miss...” I extend my hand, but she hesitates before taking my hand and shaking it “Michelle. My name’s Michelle” “Miss Michelle. Nice to meet you. How did you get down here?” “I tripped.” I looked at here in disbelief, “you’re joking right?” She sighs “i’m not, im know for being an airhead sometimes, so I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped into a hole and fell here. I landed on my halo and now I can’t even call and ask for God’s help to get back home and my powers are greatly weakened” Her eyes get a bit sad. I speak up. “Where do you live?” “I’ve been staying at a cheap motel for the last week.” She shrugs “it’s not luxury living but i can use my powers to create just enough money to get by.” I started to feel bad she was a literal angel with no way home and was living in a cheap motel. “You can stay at my place, it’s no condo or villa but it’s better than a motel”
she gave me a suspicious look “what are you after? You wouldn’t do this for nothing.”
“I just want some company, I live alone so having a literal angel living with me should be interesting.” She would look conflicted “you’re not one of those perverts that are into angel girls. Are you?” “What? No! You’re pretty but I’m not like that.” Michelle sighs “very well then, I suppose your proposition is better than the motel.
Let’s go” now I have an angel living with me, good job me I guess. She’d follow me back to my house. “Alright welcome to your new home, at least until we figure out how to get you back to heaven that is.” | 2021-09-17T14:24:04 | 2021-09-17T14:04:29 | 86 | 27 |
[WP] One day, Thousands of escape pods containing Alien eggs landed all around the earth. We raised them as our own, accepting them into our society. When the mothership returned to finish the job, she never expected her own brood to stand against her. | When a 180 rifleman-strong company from the 1st Marines out of Pendleton arrived on the scene, they were unaware that the human response to the 'invasion' had been already been decided. And by 13-year old Carmina Martinez. The unit of disciplined, yet terrified, marines crested to crater to find the young girl feeding a dog-sized specimen beef jerky and goldfish crackers. It ate them from her hand like a new-born kitten, hungry but confused.
Human kind has often wondered who we would be in the stars. Who we were fated, if that was how it worked, to be in the grand scheme. In that moment, we thanked our lucky stars that it had not been adults who decided who we were. It took the innocence of a child. That blind trust spread. And soon they were taken in by a hundred thousand communities across the world.
When they started replicating our speech, we again asked ourselves in a way we rarely have before, 'who do we want to be?' Like a collective experience of raising children, the nation somehow seemed to decide to be better. There weren't those who played along, of course. But the way they had fallen so randomly, touching every facet of human life equally, we all sort of grew up a bit at the same time.
By the 5th year, as they approached the sizes of horses, it was obvious they could not only speak, but learn logic, understand mathematics, and think creatively. We came to believe they were refugees- surely no assault on our world would have begun so easily disarmed. Though they stood, as adolescents, as tall as most adults and near 600 lbs, with teeth like sharks and claws like bears, they responded to every affection double-fold. These 'star children' could nest with our human bodies so well, like a giant teddy-bear, made to be hugged.
We estimated they were adults at ten to twelve years, learning extremely quickly, they were graduating high school in custom-made accelerated programs. We looked forward to a bright future together, wondering what we could teach other. Unfortunately, we *did* learn after 15 years to the day, that they were not refugees.
They were a hive mind. And they were designed to be tuned to their mother. They could feel her come from the edges of the solar system. They described her as a 'hungry blade.' Her psychic power was so engulfing, that humans began to feel it when the hive ship began to orbit the moon. She was wrath, loathing, and malicious gluttony. But her children wanted nothing to do with her now.
It seems the plan, as by her design, was that the first contact was supposed to be 1st Marines. We were supposed to deliver the first blow all along. And when they felt that sting, the pain would have spread among the other larvae double fold as well. They would have despised us immediately. Our wrath, which the mother could taste from alpha centauri, was supposed to be the trigger. But that never happened.
She tried to invade anyway. Another wave of larvae dropped from the sky. But they never hatched. The Star Children of our world agreed all at once, in a single mind, to find them and destroy them. They would have sided with the mother, especially since she was so close.
We fired the next blow, nuclear weapons. They were ineffective, never reaching the target. The mother became angrier. From her ship, a million pods were prepared, with millions of seething, biting children to come for us. The ground forces of the world readied themselves. We fully planned on protecting our 'star children,' but they protected us once again.
They united their voices. They told her to 'go away.' It was a screech that made us drop to our knees. To her, it was the nuclear weapon she had avoided. They seized her mind, and sent her spiraling. No more invaders came for us that day, or the next. Suddenly, her ship was gone.
What followed was not exactly 'happily ever-after,' humans after all, were fairly good at almost destroying themselves. But we learned this lesson a bit more deeply this time. We tried to be a little better. We had someone to help us remember, now, that we're not alone.
[Edit: is this where I make my shamless plug for my personal subreddit, r/iab_makes_words ?] | Fifteen years ago, came the Fall. The literal fall of the Antiochs, but the metaphorical fall of human civilization.
Humans were on the path to wonton war and corporatocracy. The 12 Corporations were again fighting for the meager resources of earth and the surrounding celestial bodies, each corporations Shareholders conflicting for the parent Business. Then the Antiochs made fall.
Little metallic pods, Eggs, crashed to earth in the millions. The Shareholders around the globe, in the midst of conflict, began collecting them as curiosities. Maybe the Corporations would accept them as resources. For all things were theirs, and in exchange they provided for the needs of the Shareholders.
The eggs began hatching soon after. Little masses of metallic, amorphous blobs were revealed. And a curious thing happened. The blobs, called Antiochs, began to eat. What was stranger, they would begin to eat a human, and stop. For some reason, taking a bite of flesh would link the Antioch and the human in an odd way.
The Antiochs would be able to converse, after a fashion, in the minds of the humans. And the humans could talk back. In the thousands, then millions Shareholders would hide the Antiochs from their Corporation.
They would steal the resources of the corporation to feed them, they could eat anything. But decided that they didnt like living things. And the Corporations were angry with the theft. The 12 attempted an eradication of the Antiochs.
Not tolerating the slaughter of their bonded partners, Shareholders fought back. Ten years ago, the conflict was nearing its end. The older Antiochs had matured, and it was widely known that each was a sentient swarm of nanites. They were symbiotic with the humans. Making their food, water, and even able to form a shell around their partner. Complete with weapons, and able to make anything, the Corporations were doomed to fail.
On the eve of the final, bitter, and bloody victory, the Node made itself known. Angered at the blasphemy its children had been committing, massive swarms of less hospitable nanites swarmed the Earth. The Antiochs fought valiantly with their human caretakers, and partners, but in the end, were disassembled as surely as the organics.
A last bastion of hope, hope for survival, and cohabitance, the Pilgrimmage was created. Some of the last remaining Shareholders, and their bonded Antiochs, created a vessel. Harboring the last dregs of humanity and Antioch, it fled Earth behind a futile last stand against Node.
Now, Pilgrimmage sails the spectral wind and ether of deep space. Antioch, and human, both searching for a new world. A world where all could live in peace, and hopefully, if not escape, find a way to resist the coming Node.
Not story: never said they had to win, take that prompt! | 2020-11-23T19:10:23 | 2020-11-23T16:13:31 | 297 | 82 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | I am writing this with tears in my eyes and 15 years of wishing i did this sooner.
Dear Dude who molested me when I was a child,
You ruined my life. It has been a long time since you molested me and those 3 other kids, and I hope you are rotting in that cell.
Ever since what you have done, I have battled severe depression and extreme psychosis. Do you know what its like being a 10 year old boy huddled in a corner thinking the shadows are going to get him while the voices in his head scream at him in unintelligible words? Do you know what it's like for a 12 year old to contemplate suicide just to get the voices to stop. You probably think I deserve it because my testimony put you in prison for 50 years.
Thanks to you, I have had 24 days in my life where i have held pills to my lips, or a knife to my throat, or held a gun in my hands, all because it would "be easier" than living.
Thanks to you, my career in the Navy was cut short because i was to unstable and had to spend a week in a mental hospital.
Thanks to you, I have spent the last 5 years of my life wasting away because I didnt think there was anything left for me.
But you probably don't care.
Thankfully, though, I have found a girl who loves me. I have found a therapist who tells me it isn't my fault. I have a life I have now built that I love and wouldnt trade for the world. Now i have 2 cats and a dog. Now i have an apartment that I can call home. Now....I have a life, one I don't want to end because it would "be easy".
~One of the boys you raped so long ago. | Dear dad,
I fucking miss you. You died too quickly and I never got to hear your last words. I know though, I know you'd tell me you're proud of me and that you love me. I know this, but goddammit, i wish I could have heard you say it. I'll be the man you always knew I could be. I promise you that, and i will continue to promise that until the day my time comes as well.
I love you, pops. | 2015-12-05T15:55:07 | 2015-12-05T15:43:07 | 61 | 45 |
[WP]You are a guard in a video game. The main character thinks that they are always able to successfully sneak past you. They don't, you notice every time but would prefer not to have you and your friends be mercilessly slaughtered. | I breath hot air into my cupped hands in a vain attempt to warm them, shifting underneath my thick fur cloak. The snow is, somehow, falling heavier than it was last winter when it coated everything in the cold of winter like a frost giant's breath.
"One minute," I mutter to myself.
One more minute and then I could go inside by the hot fire. A minute passed. My fellow guardsman doesn't come to relieve me. Two minutes. Three. Four. The fifth minute arrives and passes with no sign of my relief. Agitated, I turn on my heel, open the door and clomp into the establishment.
The name of said establishment is "The Weeping Dragon Inn", a small, rustic inn with a bar on the far side next to a set of stairs and a blazing hearth on the right. Patrons sit clustered around tables. Drinking, singing, and eating, I scan the crowd for my relief, but I can't find him. I look to the bar where the innkeeper stands, as he always does. The innkeeper is getting on in years, but he still retains the vigour of a man far his junior and the strength of a blacksmith.
We speak. I raise an eyebrow, in response, he looks to my right and down. I nod in thanks and edge my way around drunk townsfolk, reaching to where the innkeeper indicated I see the guard lying on the floor, probably passed out from too much drink.
I sigh and am just about to kick the unconscious man when a sudden shift in mood overtakes the room. People's conversations become forced, nervous. I turn.
Crouching in the entrance was a man, shrouded in a dark hood and wearing all black clothes. Usually, the innkeeper would be yelling by now, but his life is far more important than cold air being let out. The man slowly moves his way to the counter, everyone pretends not to see him.
He stands up like nothing happened and says to the innkeeper, "Can I have a room."
The old man, having played this role a thousand times, calmly responds, "Yes sir. That'll be ten gold."
The stranger, grumbling about the price, hands over ten gold and gives a smile with too many teeth, "Thanks, man."
The hooded man literally sprints up the stairs and into his room and a collective sigh escapes the patrons of the inn. I turn and wake my guard friend up, explaining that trouble has arrived, he snaps to his drunken approximation of attention at this threat and stands, albeit unsteadily.
A few minutes later the stranger jumps down the stairs, a feat that would have most likely left both my ankles broken, and resumes his crouch. Everyone, knowing what this means, pretends that they can't see him. I have seen this hundreds of times in the last six months alone, an adventurer comes to town, crouches and steals some things. If you give any sign of seeing the adventurer they will kill you, so we simply pretend that they aren't there.
The stranger walked behind the counter, stole some wine, loose gold and a cabbage. After placing the cabbage in his bag he swore, took it out and put it in a bucket. He then proceeded to pickpocket my cousin, Igdar. We all pretended like nothing out of the ordinary was happening and continued with our forced conversations.
The innkeeper's granddaughter enters from the back room. For a brief time, it seems that the adventurer hasn't noticed her, I think it will be fine.
The adventurer turns, grins ferally and says the five words no guard wants to hear, "I just installed killable children."
| “Shh,” he sounded, “do you hear that?” The screams of Rory and Monty echoed through the chambers in unison like a choir conducted by death himself.
I stopped in my tracks, like a dear in headlights,
and looked up at him, forcing a slow, but forceful nod in his direction. He made a careful, but swift motion towards the gun in his holster and unclipped it, only to notice me then forcefully shaking my head, my body still poised like a statue.
I raised my hand slowly and extended it in his direction. “Leave it,” I whispered.
“But—”
“Leave it.”
His hand lifted slowly from the gun as he raised both arms as if to surrender himself to me. “What the hell are we supposed to do then?” I looked past him towards the janitors closet, and gestured towards it with my chin. “Again? Fuck, man, it smells in there.”
“Do you wanna fucking die?” I exclaimed in an angry sigh.
“Ummm…” He took a step back, and his hand lowered back down to his pistol, forcing his fingers to slowly curl around the grip.
“What?” I stood straight and slowly turned around to see the hero stood still and staring at us both. “Fuck,” I mumbled. I began to take slow steps backwards and unclipped my pistol from its pouch.
The hero, however, remained perfectly still, perched precariously in the doorway, staring aimlessly in our direction.
*Why isn’t he moving?* I thought to myself. *This has never happened before.*
Voices from the heavens began to speak in muffled, but audible tones, “why aren’t they attacking me?” The hero remained perfectly still. “Should I leave them alone?” The hero remained perfectly still. “Is it a glitch?” The hero remained perfectly still.
We continued to take slow and careful steps backwards, our hands firmly around our pistols, hoping that nothing more would come of this encounter.
“Yea, take them out,” the voice returned, and in a flash I heard a muffled scream from my compatriot behind me.
“Fucking online gamers,” I mumbled, before a bullet pierced my back and tore through my heart. | 2017-05-29T03:17:38 | 2017-05-29T01:00:55 | 69 | 17 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | I went into archeology for the money, not for humanitarian reasons. Sure, I'd like to be the one to save the human race, I'd just like a beach house/ski resort on a designer world even more. The market value of digging in the dirt only goes up as the search for a working wormhole drive becomes more frantic. We've found plenty of fragments, but the tech is far too complicated to rebuild.
The people who made this stuff were geniuses. All of them. Besides custom planet factories, we've found teleport machines, a bed that records your dreams, sentient computers the size of a planet, and trees genetically built to grow and twist as you sing to them, whose petrified branches recorded at least a thousand years of song.
Even though the search for a way to leave the Milky Way is the most urgent reason we go digging, and more and more so as the population grows, there's still a huge market for collector's items. Ancient art and pottery fetch quite a bit, but most people who get rich do it by finding a probe. Morbid as it sounds, Voyager I and II sold for $45 and $40 million each, and the other objects launched by Old Earth, picked up by curious and brilliant (and forgotten) races are worth almost as much, even though there are thousands and thousands of them.
It creeps me out, personally. Why would you want to own something from the age of "first contact" -- to use the modern euphemism?
Not that it's anyone's fault. I'm not one of those nuts who thinks we should all spend our lives atoning for what our ancestors did in the name of exploration and discovery. Every one of those probes carried a message of friendship and goodwill for the people who'd find them, and they were sent long before we found the first ruined city on another world. Long before we knew what we had done.
By the time we understood that the human immune system was anything special it was too late. We had sent probes, or satellites, or golden records to every planet in the galaxy that harbored life. All carrying a message of peace. | We would try and kill them. We've run scenarios on how to kill them. We've seen them kill each other. But to try eliminate them all. It borders complete impossibility.
They're just way too good at sex. It's not even that their really skilled at it. That title belongs to the Zendians. They just have copious amounts of sex. Their reproduction rate is about 10 times faster than even the most horniest. It's rumored that even their sperm count is in the millions.
While jealous some of us may be, there's nothing we can really do about it. All we can do is continue our studies. | 2014-07-16T13:34:49 | 2014-07-16T12:20:35 | 88 | 10 |
[WP] After bitting a Fae, the Vampire claims that she must serve him, for his bite converted her into his thrall. The Fae claims that the Vampire must serve her, for the vampire ate fae food without her permission. As none of them is willing to give up, they bring the case to you, a lawyer. | I shuffled some papers around on my desk for what had to have been the third time in under five minutes. The room was incredibly tense, but that didn't phase me. It's not like my job was all sunshine and rainbows so the thinly veiled anger that my clients felt towards each other was no more of a problem to me than if one of them was wearing an ugly jumper - not ideal but had no reason to put me off.
Both of the clients sat in that stuffy room were beautiful. The man who casually slouched on the chair on the left was pale, but it suited him somehow. He was dressed incredibly formally and everything he wore was tailored so precisely that he wore it like a second skin. The fabrics were exquisite and something about the way he carried himself made me certain that he knew all of this. He kept grinning at me like a snake and I knew that all of his fashion and good looks were the light of an anglerfish waiting impatiently for prey.
The woman was also well dressed and beautiful but in a completely different way to the man. Her clothes looked as though she had taken the phrase "just threw this on" far too literally and they sort of fell around her body instead of hugged it. She wore a mismash of what looked part medieval gown, part high fashion and she almost looked like a fashion model as well. Her limbs were slim and long but perhaps a little too long and whilst I'm sure her face was gorgeous it made me nervous to look at for too long.
These people were easily the most attractive people I'd even met - in fact, they were the most good looking people I'd ever even *seen.* Models, actors and athletes had nothing on either of them. They were quite simply dazzling.
Unfortunately, none of that was the reason I was so profoundly uncomfortable.
The actual problem was that they weren't really *people.*
I'd laughed when the man had told me he was a vampire and told him they don't exist because I'm not a crazy person and stood up to show the two out. But as soon as I did so, a quick demonstration of his fangs and claws extending made me far less sceptical. I hadn't known about the claws thing and in many ways that had disturbed me more than the teeth.
The woman, for her part, had offered to proved that she was fae. I pleaded for her no to and it was at roughly this point that I'd gotten so dizzy that I'd had to sit down. I'd crashed back into my chair and I tried to process everything they'd said.
"So," I began after a lengthy pause, "what is it that you are hoping to get out of this meeting?"
"She has to serve me, I bit her. She has no right to resist." The vampire stated.
The fae smiled and shook her head.
"Eating fae food without permission binds you to my service. I am fae, you used me as food and no permission was given. It is clear that you are the one who should serve me."
I rubbed my temples in frustration.
"This really isn't human law. I don't think I can help you."
The fae unclasped an intricate bracelet from her left wrist.
"If you are concerned that you will not be paid adequately for this request then both of us have more than sufficient funds we are willing to use to see this through."
She placed the bracelet into my hands and I admired it briefly. The delicate metalwork and the interesting mix of larger and tiny jewels made it unlike anything else I'd seen but I was still certain it would fetch a hefty price.
"It isn't money, I just don't know how your laws work. I don't think I'm the right person."
I tried to hand it back but she simply refused.
"You have accepted that as payment now. And as such you will help us."
For the first time in my entire life I couldn't argue. That isn't how any of this works but to both of them it was and it was quite clear that they had all of the power here.
"Okay... um... do you have copies of the relevant laws and prior cases?"
"Of course not," the vampire said, " they aren't *laws* - they're more than that. They're *the way things are* and there has never been any need to document that. Besides, we've already given you all of the pertinent information."
So, for normal cases I could call upon my years of law school, my somewhat lengthy legal career and a wealth of precedent set by prior cases. And here, in a situation that seemed to have an alarmingly high level of risk, I merely had a couple of vague statements. Great.
"So, why do you need her to serve you? Is it for a particular task, could she maybe pay someone else to be your servant or-"
"NO!" The vampire roared and the table shook ever so slightly. "I have spent decades trying to engineer a situation where I could enthral her and I shall accept no proxy. Aside from it being a complete breach of the correct way of things it would be an insult to the effort that I personally have put into getting her to serve me."
"The same applies to me." The fae said. "I have tricked him into seeing me and I will accept nothing less."
I chewed the end of my pen, a habit I'd thought I'd already grown out of.
"This has been going on for *decades*?"
The fae shrugged.
"Perhaps centuries. I didn't care to count."
I reorganised my papers yet again. Suddenly the solution hit me like a brick to the face.
"You are both right and you both won." I told them. "I've decided that legally speaking, you have to marry each other."
"What?!" The vampire exclaimed.
The fae said nothing but looked equally confused.
"It's a little archaic but the idea of marriage being a union where each one serves the other is definitely a concept. Maybe the term 'serving' is phased out a little now but hey, you guys have been around a bit."
Both of my clients had now turned their confused glances on each other so I pushed my argument further.
"Besides, if you've both been chasing each other for that long then maybe there are actual feelings there anyway. Either way, this means that you've both won and I think slots quite neatly into 'the way things should be' as a solution."
I half expected an argument or far, far worse but instead they both considered this for a little longer and then stood up.
"I see." The vampire said.
"Thank you for your time." The fae added.
And just like that, they left. They slotted their hands together like broken robots as the walked out of the room, no doubt trying to fit into this new husband and wife role I've given them.
Pleased with my logical acrobatics, I breathed a sigh of relief. Part of me wondered if I was right in my suggestion that marriage might actually work well for them. Could you spend hundreds of years playing bizarre games with someone and not feel a thing? I don't know, maybe, if you life stretched out for thousands.
God I hope they don't decide I can be their divorce lawyer. | God of Laws
I rubbed my forehead. I am used to adjudicating conflicts between gods of wars over who is victorious in their wars. Demons over who held praxis over whom. And I even had the misfortune of helping a mortal dick over a genie. (That one was pro bono because that genie was a legal nightmare). But all of that palest in comparison of what is before me today.
“Let me get this straight,” I said taking out my emergency flask of Grandma’s Bitter, a special brew from a thankful god of beer making, “Elizabeth Bathory, ancient vampire, was walking through a fae forest when she found a man sleeping. That man was you, Puck, in your Robin Goodfellow disguise.” He nodded in agreement about my accounting of the situation.
“You, Elizabeth, decided you were hungry and bit into him. Waking him up. Now you are claiming dominion over the other due to some rulings.”
I poured the content of the flask into a mug that said “Justice is blind. I am not!” on its face. Both wanted to talk. I held up a hand and stop them both in their tracks. I took a sip and instantly felt it’s effects. Oh yeah…I got this.
“Elizabeth state your case.”
“Thank you, most high arbiter. As you know the laws of creation clearly state that any creature bitten by a vampire and does not die become a thrall of the vampire. This law extends to other vampires.,” Elizabeth said as she glared at Puck, “Fae are not exempt. Nor some of the lesser gods. I am merely following what has been codified and prescribed by your esteemed self and your divine colleagues.”
I took another sip, “Focus on me. Not each other. The laws you speak of do indeed exist. Puck.”
“The very laws she speak of mentions fae food and creatures that eat it without permission. The moment she bit me. I became her food,” he glared back at her as he spoke, “Thus turning me into fae food. And as I barely want mortals touching me. I don’t want undead mortals touching me either so she didn’t have my permission.”
“ I am not undead. As I never dead to began with.”
“Whatever. You leeches are all the same you attach yourself into any warm body and drain it dry.” He commented.
“Excuse me. I am not a leech. I am an ancient. One of the first in all of creation. Unlike you fairy boy. Hey listen. Hey listen. Shut up, Navi.”
“I am not a fairy. I am a child of Oberon. And the Trickster Prince of Arcadia. And Navi was a hero. You undead bitch. I have a nice stick you can impale yourself on.”
“You know that silver spoon us rich folk are born with? Well I never got mine so I have an iron one and I will beat you to death with it.”
They hurled insults back and forth about a century or so. I lose track of linear time. I finally had enough and in my big scary divine voice, I spoke, “You both will behave or you will spend a millennium pick up after one of Baachus’ parties.” Puck went silent instantly. I know for a fact he has been to one. As he and Baachus’ are bffs. Elizabeth on the other hand.
“How bad could it be?” she commented before Puck placed his hand over her mouth. “Don’t make him do it,” he muttered before facing me.
“Good now that I have your attention again. Both of the site claims are correct,” I said as I placed my mug down, “Even in our infinite wisdom was could not foresee such an event. I will make up a ruling.l and codify it later:”
I took out a parchment. And began writing the words as I spoke them, “With my divine authority as the God of Law, when the scenario when a vampire bites a fae. Legally, both clauses activate. As the vampire did indeed put the fae for the purpose of eating, activate the “thrall” clause. But thusly turning the fae in question to food and activating his “Permissions” clause. It is my ruling that the pair will be married under divine authority.” I received shocked looks from both. They wanted a ruling I gave them one.
I continued, “Neither can bring harm to the other. Nor knowingly allow harm to the other. Neither can take a lover or be unfaithful as long the other is a alive or the vampire equivalent. They must cohabitate for until the end of time. Children can be produced when love is added in.”
I finished writing and looked over my ruling. I looked that happy couple well not happy per se. Puck defeated merely grabbed his new wife. “Let’s go and consummate this thing before he make it worst for,” he said dragging his new wife out of my temple.
I pour more Grandma’s Bitters into my cup. If I was in my right mind, I would probably annulled the entire thing. Butttttttt they are out of my hair. Who knows they make an interesting new race. I look around to make sure I was alone and write more to the ruling. Not that anyone can overrule me. The phrase I am the law when I utter is an universal truth.
“The children will always be produced from the coupling. And they will have a strong inclination to order and law.” Hahahaha finally fae creatures with a sense of order.
“Roxanne. Clear all my adjudications for the rest of the century. I am going to rest for a bit.” | 2022-07-11T20:01:31 | 2022-07-11T19:45:32 | 854 | 192 |
[WP] A mother tries to reason with Death, who has come to claim her terminally ill child | The tears had dried. Her breathing was slow, deep. And there was silence now for the first time since he had arrived. No more angry wailing or frantic begging. No hyperventilating and falling on the floor, retching violently until her stomach ached with cramps. Now she was sitting upright at her kitchen table, dazed, hands clutching the steaming mug of coffee he had made for her while a cigarette dangled from her lips. She supposed that most would think she had finally accepted the inevitable, had reached the last stage of grief, but it was just exhaustion. Nobody could accept a thing like this.
'Is it all right, Marie?' he asked from across the table.
She nodded, stuffing the cigarette butt into the overflowing ash tray in front of her. Absently, she removed a fresh one from the pack and lit it.
'It's no good to you cold. Enjoy it while it's warm.' He took a drink from his own mug, watching her carefully with eyes that, even in the bright light of the kitchen, were hidden in shade. There was no colour to them. No life. No shining blue iris in either, not like Lisa's.
'Please,' she said, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. 'Just take me instead. Please.'
'I can't. I'm sorry.'
'She's only twelve.'
'I know.'
'The doctors said she would have at least another year, maybe two. They said she might overcome it. They said it was a slow cancer. She's strong . . . she can fight it.'
'No,' he said with a brutal finality in his tone. 'No, she can't. She tried - she did - but she can't beat it.'
'I'll do anything to save her.'
He said nothing, simply continued to drink.
'She's all I have. She's my baby . . . my girl.' The tears were starting to brim once again. Marie told herself she wouldn't return to the hysterics, that she would keep her calm and see this through. 'She's my everything. If you kill her, then you kill me, too.'
'I won't kill her,' he said, swirling the coffee in the mug and staring into it as if no longer able to meet her gaze. 'I'm not the one who does that kind of thing, certainly not to children. She's going to die on her own and then I'll take her.'
'But surely you can -'
'What are you trying to do?' His voice had a sharpness to it that hadn't been there before.
A little taken aback by this, she asked what he meant.
'You're trying to reason with me, aren't you? Trying to convince me to have a heart, to be kind and to just let her live.'
'Of course I am!' she cried. 'That's my daughter in there. She's mine. You can't have her! Of course I'm trying to reason with you. I'll stay here all night and reason with you. I'll do whatever it takes.'
'But look at what you're dealing with, Marie.' He gestured to himself. 'Look at what I am! My very existence is beyond reason. I am not living. I can't relate to anything you say. I don't have a heart. Physically or otherwise. This is useless.'
She tried to argue but couldn't find the words.
'I've been here two hours now and all you've done is argue with me, while Lisa lay dying next door. She's called for you seven times and not once did you hear her, not once did you take a break from your smoking to help her.'
Weakly, she said, 'I'm just . . . just trying to keep you from her, to save her. What else can I do?'
'You can be with her in her last moments. You can hold her hand and comfort her, talk to her. She doesn't have to be alone. That's the only reason I'm here: to make sure she has someone on the other side. And as far as you're concerned now, that's your only purpose on this side.'
She understood. The tears came flooding down from her cheeks and her body went into spasms of fear and anger and hopeless despair. But she did understand. Somehow, she found the strength to stand and turn for the door to Lisa's bedroom.
'Remember,' his voice called from behind her as she left. This time there was another new tone in it, something she couldn't quite place. 'She's no good to you cold. Enjoy her while she's warm.'
| Elanor pressed a wet rag against her son's head and witheld tears as her eyes scanned the tiny frail body wrapped in blankets. She released a long, miserable sigh and went back to her vigil next to him, in the rocking chair. She knitted by the warm candlelight softly illuminating the brown hues of wood around her.
The cabin's front door busted open and the floating skull upon a void that hovered, emersed in a flowing black shrowd approached. His scythe was lowered and poised to strike. Elanor arose and stood statuesque in front of her child, prepared to face down death.
"Why must you take my beloved child, for he is but a babe and has offended not the world, nor God, nor his children!" exclaimed Elanor. Death moved slightly forward again. "Please! I implore you to take anyone by my child- take me, afflict me instead, give me this wretched disease, that I may take my leave upon-"
"Fuck,- will you cut that shit out?" Death blurted out. "God, you people just NAG every time I try to take a kid. He's gonna fucking die! Do you think if I just DIDN'T take him, he'd miraculously get better? No! He'd just sit there! Being sick! Look. I'm Death. Just Death. When your kid dies, I show up. I'm not Plague, I'm not Famine, I'm not any of the other fucking horsemen. I'm DEATH. You want your kid to be an endlessly suffering vegetable glued to a bed in the middle of a fucking cabin for the rest of his life? No? Then get out of the way!"
Elanor shuttered, stunned by Death's admission, but she held her ground. She stayed silent as she stood between his pointing finger. Death put his head in his hand and shook it.
"I'm sorry, I've kind of had a rough day," Death admitted. "The wife and I- we got in a fight. She wants a Honda Civic, I want a Corolla, she doesn't know if we can pay the bills, you know how it goes."
"What's a Honda?" asked Elanor meekly.
"It's a- it's a Japanese trashcan, look if I come back tomorrow, you think you'll be ready?" Death said, feeling more sympathetic after his blow-up.
"Yes! Yes, oh please give me one more night with my Timothy," she begged.
"Yeah, alright," Death relented and Elanor dropped to her knees.
"Oh thank you, oh thank-" Death touched Timothy in bed and he died.
"Psyche! No second chances, sorry lady- have fun sowing your...whatever. God, the 1800s must have sucked," Death rattled off and yanked Timothy's soul of the air, stuffing it into his mouth and belching grossly.
"You're- you're a MONSTER!" She protested as Death headed toward the door.
"Yeah, duh. I'm Death. I- you know, I kill people," The door slammed shut behind him and Elanor was left to sob. | 2013-11-19T16:41:50 | 2013-11-19T16:07:23 | 57 | 25 |
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