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[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." | 'What empire was the largest in the history of the world?'
'The British empire'
'What was the name of Horatio Nelsons warship that he used in Trafalgar?'
'The Victory'
'What has a greater landmass, Great Britain or the United Kingdom'
'Fuck!'
'That isn't an answer Miss Greenham.' The inquisitor said in the most patronising tone he could muster.
'urm.....' Hannah was weighing up her options.
'please god! My husband lives in Manchester, please i'll do anything!' Hannah was pleading in vain, and she knew it, the inquisitors were never sympathetic.
The inquisitor moved his chair back across the uneven concrete floor, stood up and collected his folder from the desk.
'Miss Greenham, that is precisely the problem.'
'What do you mean, what do you need from me'
'He tried to protect you Miss Greenham.'
'Protect me from what?'
'He denied the marriage, said you had just started dating'
'What?'
'He answered all the questions very well and so we moved on to section two. Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me that you didn't know that the man you married was an eigth French?'
'Brexit means Brexit Miss Greenham, it's very simple'
The inquisitor pushed his chair underneath the table and left the room as Hannah began screaming at the top of her lungs. What the fuck had just happened?
The problem with screaming is that at one point you have to stop and breathe in very deeply. Breathing in deeply ensures that the gas gets to work fast. Screaming was perhaps the best thing she could have done.
| 2018-12-25T04:43:33 | 2018-12-25T03:34:13 | 84 | 58 |
[WP] The death penalty has been replaced by a one way trip to Mars. | They stopped calling it a "death penalty." Those liberal lawmakers finally got their way. Outright killing of mature human beings was suddenly considered a form of cruel and unusual punishment, but they decided that *exile* would be just fine.
The first few waves of arks arrived filled to the brim with supplies and criminals, but I thankfully wasn't among them. 10,000 criminals sent alone to a cold rock without a society is a recipe for disaster. Despite killing each other on a regular basis, they managed to set up some cursory habitats and start the mining processes. They weren't building up or out this time. They built down. All that remained on the surface were solar panels. I remember the mortality rate was nearly 90%, which was just fine with the Terrans. They considered their hands washed of the blood.
You'd be surprised how quickly society evolved here on Mars. The founders of our government did have some fine examples upon which to improve. They decided to go with a social democracy; there were few enough citizens and plentiful technology that there was no representation. Everyone cast an individual vote, and it worked shockingly well. Perhaps not so shocking considering any newcomers who didn't want to participate were faced solely with the prospect of walking out an open airlock.
I made the trip in the fourth wave of arks. Won't bother you with the details; let's just say I deserved to be on that ship. Every one of us was allotted a certain quantity of materials with the expectation that we would eke out our own existence, but that wasn't quite how it happened once we'd landed. A Mars citizen gave us a briefing, and all of our supplies were confiscated to be meted out amongst the population as needed. I was given a bunk, and a list of possible employment. It took a bit, but I finally came around. It's been a satisfying life.
Now the problem is the damned immigrants. Earth hasn't been faring well with the burden of overpopulation, pollution and global warming. People want to emigrate somewhere to make a better life for themselves. Hardly a day goes by when you don't see a couple illegal landers burning in across the sky. There've been some discussions on what to do about the undocumented people arriving on our planet, even thoughts of a damn space wall, but no consensus has been reached. At some point we'll reach critical mass and have to enact some policies, but I honestly don't mind the Terrans. They're doing honest work for pay that no Mars citizen would consider accepting. Plus, we have no way of rounding them all up and sending them back to where they came from.
(Thanks for reading this. I've always wanted to submit one of these!) | Jack sat in silence against the cold metal wall of the ship's hull as they waited for their weekly nutrient pills. Conversation demanded too much effort; instead the prisoners saved their precious energy. No one would bother moving until the dispensary door unlocked and then until it unlocked again. It had been that way for years now. The massive prison ship that ferried these criminals gave no thought to excess, some say no thought to humanity, but the passengers aboard were commensurate to their stark accommodations. The entirety of the ship was automated. No need to pay or feed a crew and no need to risk mutiny. Aside from the bare basic oxygen recycler and nutrient pill dispensary, the prisoners had nothing aboard save their thermal insulation suits. All 97 remaining prisoners sat huddled together in various places throughout the ship's holding bay. It was the ship's only accessible room.
Jack eyed the others around him, most were breathing softly but many lay undistinguishable from the lifeless bodies that did not survive the journey. The majority of the dead fell to starvation, the rest to each other. Jack watched a man get his brain ripped through his eye sockets one day when the madness had begun to set in. It was months now since the crazy ones had all died out. Now it was just the sitters. The ones who never did anything. | 2015-08-03T13:56:24 | 2015-08-03T13:40:47 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him. | She smells of sweetness- but she's the most bitter being I've ever seen. I ask her how she can do it. It haunts me, day and night, all those faces- but she just shrugs.
"Life is not a promise; it's not a contract. It's a gift. I can take life back whenever I want. Death is the promise. You're the promise," she whispers. She's not vehement in her words, but it's apparent. She gives herself to these humans, but she doesn't love them. She goes up to one of them, snaps her fingers, and they pass. I carry them away, I'm the last thing they'll know. And she has no regrets.
"I've got to go," I say. She shakes her head and snaps her fingers; we're taken to a young man, lying in a hospital bed. She hovers, and I watch as I only can. He'll be dead soon. And I'm here for him. She tilts her head at me.
"Isn't there anything you want to know?" I don't know what she means.
"Does he have family?" I ask.
"That's not what I mean," she says. The young man takes a deep breath; I thought it was his last and step forward, but another follows. Sometimes, a person tries to hang on. Sometimes, Life isn't as thorough and doesn't drain them of all they have left. Sometimes they challenge her. They're too strong. She doesn't like it, but is still strangely fascinated by it. She doesn't love them. But they love her. And they hate me.
"I take them all away from the people that they love, the people that love them. Everyone hates me. And here you are, with the actual power, and people celebrate you."
"I'd celebrate you," she says, stepping closer to me. "I would celebrate you if you'd let me, Death. But that's the true cruelty of Life. I can never have you." I know. Despite the fact that she terrifies me- she is still Life, and she emblazons me. I almost feel her in my core when she looks at me; she stirs something in me that I want more than anything. I want her. We want each other. Yet we can only meet when we're both doing the things we hate. She leans forward and kisses me. I sigh.
"Let him live, Life. Give him what I want," I ask of her. She nods, tears streaming down. "Love them like they love you. Like I love you. And I'll see you soon."
"I'll see you in seven minutes," she whispers fiercely, as I step away. | "I just didn't figure you'd be... you know... handsome! Has anybody told you you have a very seductive voice? It's like velvet..."
"How do you think I beckon those on the edge to the other side?"
"Oh my... almost poetic!"
"Why do you continue to murder? You're an enemy of your kind now."
"I wanted to see you again. After I heard your voice that first time in the hospital... but as much as I wanted to follow you, the doctors gave me no choice. I survived the accident, but my family died. I was 8. I lost everything, but I found you."
"That's all well and good, but you will see me again. I will take you, as I take everybody. You see... I love you too. I love all life. It's why I take the greatest kings and the smallest insects alike. If you wish to see me for a much longer "date", you need only wait. Accident, sickness, murder, or even suicide."
"Really? I can be with you, forever?"
"You will. Just wait. I will."
Death vanished with a smirk. As he descended into the ether, he smiled and pulled out a list. He wrote next to her name: "*cause of death, suicide*"
"Foolish humans..." | 2014-06-30T06:26:50 | 2014-06-30T06:18:08 | 74 | 23 |
[WP] Humanity is visited by a cosmic horror the likes of which has only been seen in Lovecraftian horror. In desperation, Earth throws everything we have at it, and, miraculously, the human race has killed a God. Somewhere in a realm beyond our understanding, the other gods speak of the event. | Death is a strange thing. To most of the universe it might be considered a constant. It is something unavoidable, and in a twisted way brings meaning to life. To those of the forgotten church, death was more of a concept - it was an interesting idea that offered respite from the toiled labor of unceasing existence. So, when it finally came, none knew exactly what to make of it.
​
" - despite that, this event must be met with an answer. A resolute statement. Lesser entities have long feared us. What are we to do when that fear erodes? When it is replaced by curiosity?" The voice of Silence Yet Found spoke, ethereal and jagged.
​
"And what answer would you have of us?" replied Solace Once Given. "That we go forward and destroy them? That we act as we did in the time before light? That we rush blindly towards all perceived as alien and smother it out of existence? I need not remind you how long we suffered in the Blackness Before, lost without time."
​
A few of the other high church twisted uncomfortably in the nebulous cloud. Well - at least it seemed that way. In truth meeting in this dark purple and black birthplace of stars was more out of ceremony and necessity. Since the reformation, each had been linked. All creatures present before the Lightbirth shared a shard of the Blackness Before deep within them. Through that piece of jagged emptiness, they were bound. It was this same piece of the long forgotten Blackness that roared in rage, agony, then complete silence when Sands Not Disturbed had ventured forward into the cosmos and found that strange blue planet.
​
"You make it sound as if these events are comparable," spoke Silence Yet Found, "as if the destruction of one of our own kin by a sentient being sits on the same scale of relevance as wound inflicted by distant supernova."
​
*Is it not?* wondered Light Soon Forgotten. *Is this not also a natural working of the universe? The creation of these creatures, then their subsequent rise to sentience?*
​
A few echoes rang out through the gaseous fog of the nebula as entities spoke softly to themselves or one another. None had forgotten the lessons imparted unto them when escaping the Blackness Before. That you must let things, even alien, grow and flourish; you have yet to understand what light they may come to bring.
​
"Perhaps we observe, then." Light Soon Forgotten had yet to speak at any of the rarely hosted meetings of the church. He was, after all, so young as to barely recall the Darkness Before. It was no secret that the opinions of those long lived in light held little sway in the minds of those long steeped in the Blackness. "They are still incapable of travel. Why else would they have not expanded their domain? In the opinion of this member of the congregation, we are provided a unique opportunity. We might learn from a safe distance, disturbing not them or ourselves in the effort."
​
A greater rumbling stirred amongst the participants. True, the threat of annihilation was a new one. Yet that in and of itself was so *interesting.* After countless millennia, there were finally new thoughts. New fears. Despite the cold package in which it came, the warmth and brilliance of new ideas was intoxicating.
​
"Ideas spoken from a tongue which has only known the warmth of stars birthed," spat Silence Yet Found. A few of his monstrous tentacles cut through the purple fog, leaving large swaths of agitated vapor in their wake. "You would let them fester. How long then, do you think, until they *do* escape the confines of their worldly prison? Would you still observe when the inhabit a whole system? Or is it more in your interest to let them desecrate the whole of a galaxy before you feel we need intervene?"
​
Light Soon Forgotten had known his speaking might be out of turn. Even still, the direct irritation of one of the ancient was distinctly disturbing.
​
"Apologies, ancient one," Light Soon Forgotten spoke, drawing his appendages inward to make himself smaller and servient, "but - "
​
"Enough," Solace Once Given boomed, "do not backpedal, young one. Even if your skin is more accustomed to light than dark, your words hold wisdom." Solance Once Given turned his hulking frame slowly in the cold mist towards Silence Yet Found. Their thousand eyes met each other in a cold stare. "Or would you attempt to speak to me in that manner as well?"
​
The silence which overtook the nebula for a few moments was all the reply needed.
​
"We go with numbers. All in attendance of this meeting will embark to this strange oddity, and we shall observe. Unless, of course, they deem the trip too dangerous." As Solace Once Given spoke the final words, he glared his countless orange eyes towards Silence Yet Found who dismissively flipped a handful of tentacles. Though he would never admit it, even he was intrigued by thought of new knowledge. New creations after so very, very long.
​
The creatures began to depart, hulking bodies leaving streaks of purple fog behind them in the blackness of void. So many moved that where their convoy went, the stars were blotted out, only momentarily showing pricks of light between countless masses of gangly and twisted tentacles. | # Soulmage
**Ameth-ta had ten thousand eyes, and every last one of them was weeping.** Rashe-son-del slammed a tankard of fermented souls into its three-lobed maw, drunkenly cursing. That Which Seeks offered Ameth-ta a sheet-shaped cloud of interstellar dust; Ameth-ta noisily blew its nose upon its projection in exospace, thanking That Which Seeks as an afterthought.
It was a funeral for a god, and everyone had arrived.
"I'd—*hic*—I'd like to thank you all for coming," Rashe-son-del slurred out. "The Devourer was many things to us. A friend. A lover. A nightmare made flesh." The assembled deities rumbled in approval. "When we first got word that The Devourer's soul-planet had developed life, I'd like to think that nobody was happier about it than The Devourer itself, may its soul blaze on."
"Hear, hear," Ameth-ta rumbled.
"But when that life metastasized—when it warped the planet so much that ol' Devvy started to sicken and die—did they listen when we told them to stop? No! They just clutched their ears and screamed as their internal organs liquefied from the deific pressure of our voice. And when we tried to force them into behaving—"
Here, Rashe-son-del took another swig from its tankard before sundering it from reality with a thought. "The spiteful fuckers didn't even try to fight us. They knew they couldn't touch us. No, they turned their weapons on their *own fucking planet*. Ruined it beyond repair and took Devvy with them."
Ameth-ta wouldn't stop sobbing. That Which Seeks handed it another nebula.
"They paid the price, of course." Rashe-son-del peered into soulspace, where the still-cooling remnants of a shattered planet orbited around a flickering star. "No clue where they evacuated to. But we'll find them. We'll find them and make them pay for what they did to ol' Devvy."
The assembled deities roared in agreement—
And then Rashe-son-del froze mid-sentence, doubling over as if struck by a cosmic baseball bat.
"What?" The eldritch entity from beyond humanity's universe opened and closed its mouth in incomprehension. "How can—who dares—"
That Which Seeks vomited, its body quavering and unravelling, and Ameth-ta shrieked as its thousand eyes began to blacken and close. In a flash of understanding, Rashe-son-del peered into soulspace, at the distant star cluster where its soul-planet laid.
Where its soul-planet *had* lain. Where there was now just an expanding cloud of gas and dust.
"No," Rashe-son-del whispered, disbelieving. "You abominations. You monsters. Was one of us not enough? Must you take *everything* from us?"
As if in spiteful response, the star itself that Rashe-son-del's soul-planet had once orbited dimmed, once.
Then it erupted in a supernova an aeon before its time, and Rashe-son-del screamed in agony as its soul-planet was rendered nothing more than subatomic particles.
"But how... how did they find..." That Which Seeks struggled to rise, to peer into soulspace once more. It should have been impossible. A needle in a haystack. There should have been no way for the humans to find their soul-planets... unless...
As That Which Seeks unraveled, its mind finally sighted upon the answer. There was no need for the humans to know *which* planet served as the eldritch deities' soul. Not with what they'd done.
One by one, across the cosmos, stars flared bright before winking out forever. And one by one, the gods they'd sustained did too.
A.N.
This story is set in the world of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or r/bubblewriters for more. | 2022-12-12T07:45:16 | 2022-12-12T06:44:53 | 672 | 364 |
[WP] A coven of vampires chase their snack, a human child into a closed down Disneyland. Disneyland awakens after sensing the child and the danger it's in, It would use its magic once more to protect. | Sarah cowered in a doorway on Main Street. At the far end, seven dark silhouettes stood out against the street lamps and the blue light of the castle far in the distance. "There's no one else here," one of them called. There was just enough light for Sarah to see that he was wearing a security officer's uniform, just like three of the others. "No one is going to help you, little girl."
Sarah stifled a sob, trying to keep quiet. She glanced the other direction, wondering if she could make it to the other end of the street without them noticing. But even then, where would she go? When she was here today with her dad, he'd had a map and knew where everything was. But the main gates were barred, and she had no way of knowing where another exit was. It was hopeless!
The vampire's boots stomped on the brick sidewalk as they made their way closer, peering through windows of the magic shop and the candy store for any sign of their prey. Even from this distance, Sarah could see their fangs glinting in the moonlight.
A puff of light appeared on Sarah’s shoulder, so bright that she had to squint to look at it. Inside, she could just barely make out a little human form with gossamer wings. “Don’t be scared, Sarah!” The voice was high and squeaky, like that time her older sister had inhaled the helium from inside the balloons at her birthday party. “Come with me!”
The light flitted inside the keyhole of the door next to Sarah and disappeared for a moment. The vampires were still coming closer. Then something inside the door clicked and it swung open. The light zoomed back out of the keyhole and toward the back of the store. “Let’s go, Sarah!” the high voice bounced off of the store’s walls.
“Are you… Tinkerbell?” Sarah whispered as they fled out the back. Her brother had told her fairies weren’t real, but she’d still hoped. Maybe this was all just some kind of nightmare!
“Yes!” Tink did a little spin in the air and then kept going down the alley. “We saw that you were in danger, Sarah, and we couldn’t let them get you!”
There was a clatter behind them. Sarah looked over her shoulder to see one of the vampires kick down a door leading into the alley. Upon spotting Tink and Sarah, he unleashed a ferocious roar that reverberated off the walls.
“This way!” Tink led her around a corner and into Frontierland. Big Thunder Railroad loomed overhead. Somehow it was even scarier in the darkness and the silence than it had been during the day with the trains click-clacking over the wooden slats. Sarah had been too afraid to ride it so Dad went with her brother and sister while she and Mom watched from below. Behind them, the group of vampires came through the gates, heads swiveling to and fro as they searched for where Tink and Sarah had gotten to.
“They’re still following us!” Sarah cried. Her whole body was shaking with fear.
“Come on!” Tinkerbell hovered over the rocks around Big Thunder Railroad. “You need to climb! It’s not far from here!”
Somehow Sarah managed to summon the courage and placed one hand on the fake plastic rocks. Tink helped a bit, giving her a push on the steep parts, but it was slow going.
One of the vampires unleashed a howl as it spotted them. Sarah scrambled even harder, scraping her elbow on the rock, and finally managed to make it to the top. Tink led her further down the tracks and into the exit as the vampires climbed after them.
“In here!” Tinkerbell hovered in the entrance to the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Sarah ran through the darkened doorway after her.
Inside, the animatronic pirates had come to life and each stood to greet Sarah. Most of them were stuck in place, but a few were able come forward to greet her. A parrot fluttered off the shoulder of one and nestled onto Sarah’s. “We’ll protect you, Sarah!” the captain pledged. The crew raised their swords and agreed with a hearty “Aye!”
Tinkerbell remained in the doorway on lookout while Sarah crawled into a tiny crevice near a big treasure chest. All of the animatronic pirates returned to their places.
One of the vampires entered the ride; the others must be checking elsewhere. In the light of the Exit sign, Sarah watched as it sniffed like a hunting dog and moved further inside. The pirates all remained in their frozen positions, lifeless and still.
“How will they protect me?” Sarah whispered to the parrot. “They don’t have real swords! What are they going to do?”
The parrot ruffled its feathers. “They have something *better* than real swords, Sarah. They have *wooden* swords!”
The animatronic pirates surrounding the vampire sprang to life. A bony skeleton inside a sunken rowboat grabbed at its ankles while another kicked it with its peg leg, resulting in a hollow *thunk* sound. They all lunged at the vampire until there was a giant mass of them in the center of the room holding the vampire down. The captain raised his wooden sword, then plunged it into the vampire’s heart. It roared with rage, struggled briefly against its pirate captor's hands, then disappeared into a cloud of dust. A raucous shouting cheer rose from the pirates, and Tink gave a high-pitched squeal of excitement.
“One down, six to go!” the captain cried.
-----
Disclaimer: it's been a long time since I was at Disneyland.
Also, if you liked this story then you should subscribe to /r/Luna_lovewell too! | *A castle*, Angela thought, *that's the last place they'll turn to look*. She saw it from afar, the faded pink and blue spires of a building she had only heard of from her grandparents, who had it heard it from their own. "There hasn't been a castle like the old ones in hundreds of years. The magic of the old world has faded, we can only use bits of it at a time, to lit our own homes. Before they used to light up the sky, now there is nothing," she remembered grandpa Howie saying. But here one was, a few hours outside of her village. A few hours away from home.
And the only thing that could protect her from the Coven. They would be on her soon. Nights were when they were active the most, she knew the stories, the dark tales. She figured that the stories of the castles could still be true. Maybe they could still protect her.
She ran towards it, her feet taking her farther and farther with each step. Over the bridge, past the brown water beneath, past the torn and battered flags that flew under lamps that hadn't lit up in years.
Under the drawbridge and inside the castle.
It wasn't a castle at all. She realized that there was more to it, more beyond it. An entire street with filled with houses and dead trees and battered flags. Beyond that, towers that were gray and old, giant mountains that were brown and dusty. It was desolate, more so than her own world. At least in the village there was light. Here, there was only silence.
When she turned to leave, she could hear them. The *Coven*, coming closer. They were on the bridge now, coming at her, ready to devour her. Just like the stories said. She shouldn't have wandered so far from home, she thought, she should have stayed with her big brother, should have never followed that deer into the forest. *They feed on animals when they can't feed on us*, she remembered.
It was over. There was nothing she could do but accept her fate. The world inside was worse than the one outside, and the further her feet took her, the more frightened she became.
But there was a light, in the distance. A small flash of white in front of her. It was getting larger, bigger, coming at her full speed. She stopped. Angela wasn't sure if this thing was worse than the Coven, if it would take her like the Coven would. But it flashed by her, continued on down the long street and towards the castle.
It exploded in a great flash and the world opened up to Angela. She could see the Coven stop and cower in their tracks. She could see that the colors of the castle looked new and bright. And now, as the bright flash of white faded, new colors emerged all around her. The lamps lit up. The houses on the street became pink and blue and yellow and green. All around her, colors emerged and lights came to her.
And the castle finally became something *more*. Its own lights shined as a beacon across the bridge, forcing the Coven to cower and hide. Each room inside became bright. Each banner atop the spires flew sharp and proud. And the gate shut. The iron bars slammed down and put something between her and the Coven. The castle protected her.
And somewhere, along the street, she could smell food. She could hear *music,* at least that's what she thought it was. Gentles tunes that echoed into the sky. *Maybe brother will hear it*, she thought, *maybe they'll come find this place with me.*
Then a voice came, shutting out the screams and cries of the Coven trapped behind the iron bars of the Castle gate. A voice that she felt she knew, that reminded her of her grandfather. It spoke a few simple words, "Disneyland is your land."
And for the first time in a long time, Angela felt like she finally understood the stories. That she finally knew the magic of the world before.
__________
*This was short, but I hoped you all enjoyed it. I would of liked to go into more detail, but I have to run, so thanks for the prompt OP and thanks for reading!* | 2016-09-07T12:59:57 | 2016-09-07T12:54:14 | 1,149 | 102 |
[WP] You're a police officer in a horror movie, but actually competent. | I honestly don't know how some of these guys do it. I mean, I have suspicions, but...I'm single, not many friends, not many hobbies, so that's how *I* stay on top of it. These other guys, though - how can you write meaningful, well-thought-out, *error-free* reports when you've got all this other shit to take care of during the day and then you're with your family or at the bars or playing pickup basketball or whatever in the evenings?
So of course I'm one of the only officers still in the building when the calls start coming in. Parents of five different kids from Crystal Lake High School all calling within five minutes of each other. They come down, I take their statements - knowing that this means I'm not gonna be caught up on paperwork until after midnight - and say we'll see what we can do.
That was nearly the beginning of the end for me in the department, actually. I met with the Chief - this is a guy with 30+ years on the force, the guy who managed to arrest Lyle "Balloon Man" Craven ten years back during that series of oddly-staged killings. Zeke in Forensics told me at lunch one day how fucking eerie it was to be working a scene with various body parts suspended in mid-air all around you. Look, bottom line, Chief is not some policy guy who has never done anything in the field. He's seen some shit. And yet...
First thing he tells me when I let him know about the calls was that it was probably a coincidence, that the teens were all up at Makeout Point and the parents were just over-reacting. I nearly put a hole in my tongue from biting it so hard. I'm not *that* young but kids don't go to Makeout Point these days any more than they go down to the soda stand to split a milkshake before the frickin' sock hop.
But instead of talking about that, I show him the video - forwarded to my cell from the cell of one of the parents, although they all said they got a copy. I watch Chief's face as he watches the screen, doing my level best not to conjure up the visuals that accompany the whirring of power tools that doesn't quite overpower the mixture of sobbing and screaming coming from the speaker.
It ends, and he looks at me, and he says - hand to God - he says, "Probably one of those prank videos."
I'm not sure what face I must be making, but whatever it is, it makes him feel like he needs to elaborate. "You know, like the kids are making these days with the SnapTweets and whatnot."
First off, no way in hell *any* of those teenagers have the resources to stage that. A multi-million dollar budget, and access to a Hollywood studio, and maybe I could see it being fake. But the other thing is...like, I've talked to plenty of kids that age before. They're garbage at lying. They can be *dramatic*, sure, but not...the biggest guy in the group, the one who's left for last...when he's begging for it to stop, and starts calling for his God-damned *mother*...there is a desperation there, a dropping of any pretense that he's not just a little child in a man's body. No way he does that as part of a prank.
And let's be real - if they *were* doing something like that, the last people they would show it to would be their fucking *parents*.
I try explaining it to the guys, and one of them says, "Lighten up, man, it's obviously a joke. I did stuff just like that when I was their age."
And I ask him to name one thing that he did that is anywhere remotely in the same ballpark as what the kids did, and he hits me with taking all the chairs out of the cafeteria and putting them on the roof. And I want to ask him in what we he thinks that is just like the two-minute and thirty-seven second visceral nightmare that is the cell phone clip but I realize, as I look around the room and see all the nodding heads, that it's no use.
So I'm driving up to Orphan's Haunt Road so I can investigate what actually happened. Everyone else thought it would be a waste of time. But I know better. And I am well aware of how stupid it would be to go alone, which is why I called in an anonymous tip a minute ago that I had seen a black guy who looked like he was on drugs wandering around the Craven family's old abandoned cabin. Because logically, if the video's legit, then the murder must have sent it out. And if he did that, he probably did it expecting the police to come.
I mean, I feel a little bad about using them as cannon fodder like this...but it's funny, because as I'm thinking about it, I don't think I could tell you their names or anything. It's like they're just those background characters who are just there to sell how dangerous a situation really is without doing any harm to the main character, and their one line is "This is ridiculous, there's nothing up heEEARARRGGHGHH" or whatever.
Meanwhile, I'm going to be some distance away, with the doors locked, the engine running, and multiple escape routes available to me. Just because I'm surrounded by amateurs doesn't mean I have to act like one. | I carefully weighed the situation. The monster *whatever it was* had long since fled. Confronted with someone armed, who knew how to fight, it had decided it had drunk enough blood this harvest. Wasn’t a match for officer Duke. *clever boy* I think to myself.
*what to do about this mess?*. Three dead cheerleaders and the quarterback sprawled on the bedroom floor, as stiff as the wooden beams that hang ominously overhead. How was I going to explain this? Chief will have my ass. That’s when I heard it, a rustle from under the bed. *what the fuck*!
I drew my gun once again. Took a long step back, and a long deep breath. I dropped to my stomach. The wind left my lungs but I kept my focus. Two eyes stared back at me in the darkness, unmoving, almost human *too human*.
“Don’t shoot me man” a voice with a strange cadence called back. *it is a college town*
“It’s alright, I chased it off” I answered, another witness might help explain things. *or at least make it seem like you didn’t just kill four white kids*
“Come out ok, and we can clean this shit up son”
I holstered my gun, and began scanning the room again, a black circle had been drawn on the floor, in which the four other young people lay, their blood slowly oozing into the centuries old wooden floor *dont build em like this anymore*. I though, stamping my foot on the floor. I decided I couldn’t leave them like that though. So I took the white cloaks down from the hangers on the wall and spread them over the victims *shame. Damn shame*.
“What’s your name boy” I ask, not bothering to turn around as I hear him standing up.
“Uh, Antoine, sir.... uh, officer” he replied, with velvet on his voice, and not nearly enough respect. An idea spat into my mind. The monster was gone and I had four dead bodies to explain, and nearly a full cartridge of bullet casings around the old estate. A blade lay off to the side of one of the girls. Just out of reach. *whats one more?*
“Hand me that would you?” I say, pointing to the knife “looks like it’s evidence”
“Uh, sure sir” the stupid boy gingerly walked over to it, he bends down and places a hand around the hilt. I stand up quietly, take my pistol from its holster and point it at his back.
“Turn around slowly, scum” the boy starts to laugh *what? Is he laughing at me? Fucking ni...*
Another, lower laugh lodged in my ear. My thoughts died in an instant. Replaced only with goosebumps, on my arms and down my throat. Four too long icy fingers wrap slowly over my shoulder, piercing my skin. The warm drip of blood sauntering down my arm.
‘ARGHHHHH’ my arm is rigid from pain, but I can’t move, my gun slips through my fingers.
“Fitting....” the boy is looking at me now as he speaks, those bright white teeth of his that look so wrong on his face, sparkling in the moonlight
“You’d die in a house like this” I feel the knife enter my chest, pain and fear running through my veins, and out all over the room *not like.... I can’t....*
The blood loss is too much, I’m bleeding out. My vision is blurry, I see.... I see that fucking boy, he nods to something, to *the monster* it smiles, this one even wronger than the boys. It speaks, it’s voice cutting into my ears.
“Cops taste the best”
The thing I hear is my own voice, the last of the air used to curse these two monsters
“You can’t .....do this..... To a grand w.....” | 2018-11-08T21:16:32 | 2018-11-08T20:00:44 | 116 | 16 |
[WP] A man commits the perfect murder. The cop investigating the case is corrupt. Looking to give his career a boost, the corrupt cop pins the murder on a random person, who happens to be the man who committed the perfect murder. | "What?" the ringing in her ears became deafening.
"Were you paying attention Ms. Bradley?" *this fucking cunt doesn't know what hit her*.
"Admittedly, no." she said with a smirk. *He's onto us*. The lighting in the room was made to make people uncomfortable. Ms. Bradley just found the fluorescent lighting annoying.
"I said; with the undeniable evidence stacking up against you, I'd say that it's time to lawyer-up." *the "evidence" that I planted, this is too easy*, the detective thought to himself.
*What could he know? There's no body. Hydrofluoric acid took care of that.* the voices were back."Oh? Undeniable? Why am I not under arrest then?" she said, her teeth shined like those of a tiger, about to make the kill strike.
"Well since you don't have a solid alibi for the night our victim went missing-" "I'd hardly call *him* a victim." Ms. Bradley said, cutting him off.
The detective raised his eyebrows. *She admits to knowing the sad sack?* he thought. "You are admitting you knew the victim?" he said.
*We're done for* "I've got this." she whispered under her breath.
"What was that?" the detective was eyeing her curiously. *This bitch is so dumb, I've got this.*
"Oh nothing, I just remembered something." she said. Twirling a lock of hair between her index finger and thumb.
"And what was that?" the detective asked, uninterested. Thumbing through a pile of photos that was in front of him. This was it, the big arrest that would get him that promotion.
"The cafe I was at, I believe there were cameras. Being there around 8:00 pm on Saturday would make it nearly impossible for me to be across town- where the 'victim' was abducted. Don't you think?" Ms. Bradley said, stifling a laugh. He was her play-thing for now, but she was getting bored.
"Emphasis on nearly." he said wide-eyed. *shit* "Look, we found the gun, we are running it for prints now. I'm coming back in here in a half hour and I would hope that you would have smartened up and gotten a lawyer by then." he said, running a hand over his stubbled chin.
A giggle. *Did this bitch really just giggle? How can she be so relaxed? I mean, I know she didn't do it- but with everything I planted, there's no way she is getting out of this.*
"What's so funny?" he asked, there was anger in his voice now. Ms. Bradley didn't mean to giggle, but this was getting good.
*A gun? Oh they didn't find anything. Just as we suspected.* That Ominous voice in the back of her head was right. She wouldn't use a gun. Guns are so impersonal. Guns have serial numbers, bullets have shells, and she had no intention of going to prison.
"I said; what's so funny?" the detective raised his voice this time.
She seemed to not hear him. The voices were riled up now.
*Oh he's mad*. the Ominous one said.
I'm sure he is. But as long as we don't budge with our alibi, they shouldn't have anything against us. Ms. Bradley thought to herself.
*They have a gun*. that Worried, shaky little voice said.
*That's nothing, the detective probably planted it*. said Ominous.
*Why would he do that?* asked Worried.
Because he's desperate, she thought.
*He doesn't have any real evidence against us, we're fine*. stated Ominous definitively.
*Why did we have to kill that man?* Worried was really worked up.
I have needs, she thought.
*And all of the others?*
Because I have strong needs.
*We are going to get caught*. Worried wouldn't stop now.
No we aren't.
*I told you we needed to stop YEARS ago.*
Worried, please shut up.
*But he has a gun*.
The anger rose to her throat like vomit. "WE DIDN'T USE A GUN!" She said, this time out loud.
The detective, having watched her twitch and murmur for the last 5 minutes was startled when she finally responded. Shocked when he finally realized what she had said.
After a long pause. An eternity of eye contact. Centuries of fluorescent lighting. She finally said, "We will take that lawyer now."
EDIT: Punctuation. | Officer Wiggum was not smiling. 'I don't care if this guy's innocent. He's nothing' As those thoughts ran through the police officer's head, Michael spoke. "Do you even have a warrant of arrest? I'm not stepping out of my house because I did NOT do anything." What Michael did not know was that Wiggum had a degree in psychology which may have proven useless for the cop until today. "See my friend. I have a degree in psychology and I know if someone's telling a lie. It's basic. No matter how good you are at hiding it I can identify if you're lying." "I am going to sue you. Are you mad? I know people who can make you disappear." For a while now michael was calm. He knew that he didn't leave any proof behind. He remembered to burn the glove- 'glove? Didn't I use 2?' Doubts begin to flood Michael's mind. The super cool and composed person shed a bead of sweat. This was his first murder of course. His boss had been bugging him for years. Always abusing his loyalty and kindness. "Sir I was just asking if you can come with me to to the station. Why are you being so defensive? I was going to let you ride shotgun since my partner's-"
"I am not being defensive. When a police officer comes at your doorstep and asks if you can come with him to the station of course you are going to think you are under arrest." Michael was not realizing his mistakes as he said that in a slightly higher tone. He also did not realize that he had been looking at the officer's badge not the eyes.
Officer Wiggum was now the one who was grinning. "I'm sorry sir, I just wanted you to come with me to the station, It seems that your boss's relatives are discussing things with a private investigator right now, and knowing that you're the only other person he spends most of his time with, they want to ask you some questions." "I know that, but trust me I did not do anything." Michael let out a huge sigh of relief as he uttered those words. Michael did not realize that he spoke in a weird manner. Instead of the usual "I didn't" he said "I did not", instead of the usual "I'm" he used "I am", and instead of the usual "you're" he said "you are" with a 2 second pause between those two words. Officer Wiggum, being the psychology graduate that he is, did not fail to notice that. 'Lucky guess?'.
To prove that the cop was not going to arrest Michael he told Michael to hold the officer's gun. "Sir, this is proof that I trust that you did not do anything." Michael didn't notice that officer Wiggum was wearing gloves. He also didn't notice that the gun uses bullets similar to the one that Michael used the other night. Since Michael did not want to argue anymore, he grabbed the gun and returned it to the officer when they got to the car. The officer was shocked. As Michael sat in the car, the officer texted his equally corrupt superior.
'I got him to touch the gun.' | 2015-01-01T05:07:24 | 2015-01-01T03:36:11 | 1,229 | 57 |
[WP] You dress up as a conspiracy nutter for a costume party. The second you put the tinfoil hat on, something obstructive is lifted from your mind as if you suddenly woke up from a long sleep. Of course, nobody believes you... | I have to write this down before they get me. Must be quick.
Started yesterday evening. Party. Fancydress. I had no time really so made a stupid costume out of tinfoil - and went as Voyager. Hahaha funny guy. I put the hat on and I saw, heard and smelled everything. I don't expect you'll believe it. Nobody else did. They're probably dead now.
Sarah I love you baby I'm so sorry. I couldn't save you. I tried so hard. I love you.
I have the hat on now. I'm in the North of Scotland, having left London last night. The air here isn't tainted. They're not coming this far North perhaps. I don't know.
I was in my flat when I put the hat on. At once, the lights dimmed to a dusky yellow and black level, and there was dust everywhere. My breath condensed even though it had been sunny (too hot in fact). The furniture in my house was full of holes, eaten away. There were patches of sludge on the floor and my feet were in some type of black puddle. My arms. My bare fucking arms were covered in bites or a rash or something. The walls had streaks all over them, and the wallpaper looked ancient and peeling.
I could hear this hum. Like those Spitfire flybys from air shows I went to as a kid. Like a thousand of them way up high in the sky. Constant. Loud.
Worst of all was the smell. It doesn't smell here on the Scotttish coast. At least not yet. It was a sweet, sickly smell. Like when I was a kid and ate too much strawberry yoghurt. I threw it up an hour later and can't go near the stuff now. It smelled like that. Only there was a meaty smell too. Deep dark meat that you very definitely wouldn't eat.
I retched and ripped the hat off.
Normal. Clean. Arms OK.
My Dog came in. Alice. She's a mix-breed. Rescue Dog and I love her. I put the hat back on and screamed.
Alice was covered in what looked like giant mosquitoes. Mosquitoes that were about six inches long. But these things had big deep red eyes and a face that came to a long cruel point. Alice had about fifty of these things on her, most of them with the points maybe an inch in to her skin. She didn't seem to notice. Her fur was matted and falling off, and her eyes. Her eyes. Fuck sake they were red and haunting.
I ran to her to get them off her, as I got near they fell away from her, some flew some scuttled. I chased after them to stamp on them but some invisible force pushed them away. Honestly I didn't give a shit about that, I went back to Alice but she'd ran to kitchen away from me. I took the hat off and she was barking at me like we were playing. She looked fine. Hat on, she looked bad. Worse, the mosquitoes were headed her way.
My instinct was to smash the hat. Tear it up.
Alice coughed.
Twice.
She retched. I put the hat on and saw her covered, this time a larger mosquito hovered above her head, with a long tail that ended in a spike. The tail was curved downwards and embedded in to the back of Alice's head. I surged forward, the invisible force field smashed the mosquitoes away. Alice collapsed. I took the hat off and she was on the floor, tongue out, not breathing. What do you do in that situation? I tell you what you do - you cry, you say "no no no no" and you try to perform mouth to mouth on a dog that you love.
She didn't make it.
I ran outside and put the hat on. The air was black with flying creatures. Tonight I was supposed to go to a stupid party. I could see people walking past with mosquitos on them. Above them. The path was covered in that same dark, sticky fluid and the stench was worse out here. I ran to a woman and infant and shooed the mosquitos away, she screamed and punched me hard. I carried on down the road trying to save these people, and every time they either ran off or defended themselves. I shouted at them. Pointed. I gave one guy the hat and told him to look. He screwed it up and told me fuck off. I panicked hard that he had broken the hat. I unfurled it and put it back on. As I did I saw the mosquitos lift off my arm, and fly towards the guy.
Fuck him, it was too late for him. I turned to go and heard him start to cough.
Sarah.
My sweet, beautiful Sarah.
I sprinted to my motorbike, mosquitoes everywhere moving out of my way. The stink. Oh the fucking stink.
I had to get to the restaurant where she was finishing up.
I kept the hat on and sped through a thickening cloud of smaller mosquitoes, all the while noticing that the larger mosquitoes were growing in numbers.
It was a waste of time. All of it.
I got there and couldn't get in the door. There were so many creatures in the restaurant that my invisible force field merely squashed the bugs in to the next ones. I couldn't get past. I took a deep breath and screamed once again as I took off the hat and ran in head first.
No barrier, nothing stopped me. In the restaurant there were customers everywhere. On the floor. Either gone or in a dying Malaise.
Sarah. My throat started to sting.
I put the hat on and could barely move in the blackness - I was totally surrounded, nay cocooned by bugs. The noise. The fucking noise was like a hundred thousand knives and forks hitting the floor. Whatever the fuck had been feeding on me was gone. I tipped up the hat and ran for the back office to find Sarah.
Not there.
Throat pain. Hat on. SCREAM again. Bugs get off me.
Hat off. Run. Run hard to store room. Breathing hard. Sarah. There. Throat pain. Fucking mosquitoes on me. Hat On again. This time I can't move. I'm hemmed in all around. Jammed.
I can't lift the hat off.
I can't fucking move. I can't save her. Dear God please help me.
Screaming.
Sixty seconds or so and whatever is under me must be flowing away, I'm able to jiggle down and get the hat off.
Run to Sarah. She's gone. I can't stay, I'm going to die. So I run outside put the hat on, put helmet over it and ride hard. I ran out of cry maybe an hour later, and nearly ran out of fuel an hour after that.
As I went North the bugs thinned out, so I was able to take the hat off for longer. I filled the bike and went to the petrol station to pay. Quickly putting the hat on, I saw the dark skies to the south and heard the faint humm. Hat off, I paid the guy and asked him to try my hat on. He laughed, obviously mildly concerned. When he had it on his eyes widened. HE COULD SEE IT. THANK GOD. Then he told me about pretty colours and spaceships. He tossed the hat back and told me to go easy on the drugs. His television carried breaking news of a suspected gas attack in London that had killed many people. He gasped and turned it up. I left.
First things first, I decided to get to safety. I can't help if I'm dead. So I rode through the night. At first I kept going until I couldn't hear the bugs, and then fuck it I just kept going.
I'm just North of Aberdeen now. I've written this down in a small notepad and will carry it in my pocket. I'm going to head back in to Aberdeen and find someone who can help. Maybe there's someone in charge there that will take me seriously.
I'm sure I can't hear the humming. | "FUUUNNNNNY JOKE," shouted Aaron. The others were doubled over in laughter. They all had a strange assortment of bits and pieces on them, scrounged from back closets and parent's basements. One couple had old suits and sunglasses, the woman rocking a late 90s pant suit. FBI, MOULDER, and SCULLY adorned their costumes in large handwritten letters on taped-on pieces of paper. Another man wore neon and had hung glowsticks from this wrists. In the corner, an Al Borland lookalike was still chuckling. The room was filled with bad fashion choices made with a careful eye.
"GUYS," Vicky burst into the giggling room. She punctuated with each word with flailing hand. "Guys. This. Is. Big." Her clothing was even more mismatched, she wore an ill-fitting brown suit and her black curly hair was frizzing out from the tinfoil hat on her head. Her friends looked at her and clapped loudly. A chorus of shouts followed.
"Kramer!" said Terry.
"Homeless Guy!" shouted Naomi.
"Conspiracy Theorist!" yelled Anne and Robin together. The others groaned and conceded the point. They flashed their FBI badges belligerently.
"No!" Vicky said. "I mean, yes, but listen: It's all clear to me now. It's all true." Her friends laughed.
"No, I'm serious. Th-th-th there's some sort of force like really affecting our minds. The tinfoil has stopped all of it. Everything is clearer now."
Terry offered her the joint in his hands, "Girl, you need to chill."
"It's all a lie. Everything. Everything is just like, some big joke, some big illusion, we're all just going through the motions of living our lives, you know?" She had a wild look in her dark eyes, and her friends exchanged uneasy glances.
Anne stood and up took her by the shoulder, "Vicky, you don't look so good."
"No! I'm not good, Anne." She accepted being led over to the couch, where she sat down. "Somebody once told me-"
"-That the world was gonna roll me-" Naomi shushed Robin's drunken response.
"-that we're like an untamed forest. An-an-an-and a single footstep doesn't, doesn't make a mark, but-but-but if we all keep walking in the same way, in the same place, and doing the same things, then the forest becomes a path." She grabbed Anne urgently. "We're the path. We're walking the path."
"Uhm...." Anne looked at her friends for help.
"You're really ruining my party Vicky. C'mon. Drop the act, we get it, you're a conspiracy theorist." Terry took a drag.
Vicky pressed her hands against the side of her head. "Humans are on the path, because they're told to be. But there's a whole forest out there. A whole - a whole - a whole set of trees we've never even seen." Her arms jumped , knocking over drinks as her friends groaned, "We need to get off it. We need to go see some new bark, guys. We're just staring at dirt, yo."
Rolling her eyes now, Anne dragged Vicky away from the drinks as the others grabbed paper towel. She guided Vicky towards the bathroom and reached up to take the tinfoil hat.
"Enough of this," she said. It slid off her friend's head, who suddenly slumped against her.
"Wow, I'm sho tiiiired," Vicky slurred. Anne patted her on the back and let her collapse next to the toilet.
"Pull the trigger, let's get this over with." Vicky threw up in the toilet as Anne dutifully held her hair back. She wanted to reach into her pocket for her phone, so she smiled and put the tinfoil in her hand on her head.
A dull thrumming scared her. It came from everywhere around her like she was under power lines. She looked around, and colours grew more vibrant and seemed to blur if she moved her head too quickly. For a long time she just stared at the decorative tiles of the bathroom floor. They were etched by a machine's cold metal claw, she could see the lifeless traces of its perfect grooves. It was so ugly, she thought, so... unnatural. She looked around slowly, letting the colours bleed into each other. She looked up to see Robin standing over her with a concerned look.
"You okay, babe?" The voice came from far away, barely audible over the thrumming. In the corner of the room, a spider's web feebly wavered in the air. No spider in sight, she thought, but it had left a trace of its life behind. Messy lines crossing each other, all for the purpose of making a single home for a single lonely creature.
This was her home, but it was cold and sterile and she hadn't made any of-
Robin took the tinfoil hat off her head, and she felt nauseous. She knelt over the bathtub and vomited. Robin rubbed her back slowly. Anne clutched behind her as she groaned and grabbed the tinfoil on the floor.
She crushed it in her fist and threw it across the tile floor. Spitting a few more times and then turning on the water, she slid around to face Vicky and Robin.
"Alright, let's get back to this party." Vicky was shaking her head groggily.
"I need more to drink." Robin nodded, squeezed her knee, and got up to go fetch her cup.
"I put on the hat, Vicks."
"And?" Vicky said apprehensively.
"Like I said, we need another drink." Anne stood, and ignored Vicky's dark look. She pulled her friend to her feet.
"C'mon, we got a Seinfeld drinking game to play." Out in the room, someone yelled out, that's gold, Jerry! "Terry had to buy an actual physical copy of season 1 for this, let's go." Reluctantly, Vicky followed her out to the couch. She gave one last look to the crumpled tin foil, and then accepted the drink Robin pushed into her hands.
"Yada, Yada, Yada," she cried before downing the liquor.
| 2017-04-10T07:29:02 | 2017-04-10T07:16:44 | 201 | 22 |
[WP] You're sat alone, with a glass of wine in hand, and decide to jokingly toast the Greek God Dionysus. You did not expect him to appear before you in human form, create two bottles of wine, and take a seat next to you. | He just... Appeared.
I jumped in surprise.
"Whattt??!?!?? Who are you??" Was the only thing that came out of my mouth.
Sending a reproachful gaze my way he said
"Sit down. This has been a bad day, don't make it worse. That wine is worth more than you will ever have, so drink it"
"Hey, that's mean" I replied, as I retook my former position.
"Are you him? Dionysus? For real?" I asked
"Yep, that's me wine, parties, the whole shenanigan"
"Wow, so.... gods are real? Only the greeks? Is Aphrodite as stunning as the legends say? "
He burst out laughing.
"Man, that's just what I needed. You humans always thinking in the same thing even in the most bizarre of situations" he replied. "Yes, she is, so that answer your question. About the gods, you will have to discover it yourself"
"Then why are you here if you are not answering me?"
"The truth? I needed to talk to someone. Long time ago one of you humans told me that when you need to talk sometimes even a stranger will do. Sometimes its even the best one to talk to. Cause they can be as sincere as they want."
"Well that's not exactly true in my case, I don't want to anger a god"
He laughed again.
"Yes, that's true too"
And we remained in silence for a while but I broke it and asked:
"So did I help you?"
" Yes, you did, thanks"
" Im glad. So what now? How do I live knowing gods exist? Nobody will believe me"
"Just keep living the same? What does knowing it alter your life? Will it become different?"
" That's sound point. Guess tomorrow will be the same as always."
The silence then came back.
"So, what do you do for a living?"
"You came here looking for someone to listen to you and you don't know?" I answered while I laughed. "Im a shrink."
And that's how I became the shrink of the gods.
Not just the greek but norse, egiptians... All the ancients and new pantheons. You wouldn't believe the shit that happens in those families. Being immortal and all powerful doesn't sound so good now to me.
​
​
PD: First time writing and showing it. English is not my first languague so sorry for the mistakes. Hope you like it. Thanks | “Wow!” I finally let out “Welcome to my home and this party” as he looks around at the painful disarray of my house
“Yes what a quaint ‘party’ I needed something more... toned down after the last festivities I partook in.”
“Oh what was that in celebration of” I ask curiously wonder what kind of party can tire out the god of parties.
“ Oh just some demigods ‘saving’ us gods from Gaia returning and reclaiming her power over us all”
Well shit” I huff. “Does that mean Percy Jackson is real too?”. Dionysus glances over
“Ugh” grunts the God of wine “What is with you mortals and Peter Johnson this, Patrick Jansons that. He’s just another demigod going on his little quests causing such a ruckus.”
“Well he did save you gods from the insanity of your dual personalities didn’t?”
“Ha” with a scoff exclaims Dionysus” I’m the god of insanity I think I know what it means to be insane” and with that he disappears into smoking that oddly smelled of grape Fanta. | 2020-11-08T10:50:12 | 2020-11-08T09:26:55 | 236 | 146 |
[WP] Turns out, Earth is actually unique in the fact that nearly all of it's natural features, like quicksand, and processes, like earthquakes, can kill you. Most other planets dont do that. So when aliens invade, 90% of the fighting is done by Earth. | "Sir, we have to land, now!" Sathrian yelled a the top of his lungs.
I stirred from my sleep. "Is it time for the assault already? Red group shouldn't arrive for another three days."
"Sir, we're being *battered*, our shields are low on power!"
"They found us?!" I shouted, leaping from my bed.
"No, sir, our invisibility camouflage is perfect- it's a storm."
"The hell is a storm?" I growled, prowling towards the main deck, still in my pajamas.
"It seems that when this planet goes through its water cycle, it's a very intense process, sir." Sathrian said as he tailed behind me.
I reached the bridge and looked out at the planet we were supposed to be dominating- and a bright flash of light immediately blinded me. "What the hell?!" I roared.
"Electronic discharge of some kind, we're trying to figure it out now! That's the third one this hour."
I rubbed my eyes. "Damn. Okay, so the climate is a bit hostile here, then. How do the locals function with it?"
"They hide." Sathrian said, his voice sombre.
"They just hide?! How long do these extreme cycles last?"
"Can go on for several standard days, it seems. We haven't finished analyzing their patterns yet- the computer is already overheated."
"Damn. We need to settle down somewhere with cover. Can we fly without being noticed?"
"Well- all the humans are indoors, we should be alright..." My Helmsman said. "What's our heading?"
"I'll leave it to you, Helmsman."
"Affirmative. Energy to reverse thrusters, disengage the barionic lock."
We scoured the local area for a few minutes, the wind, rain, and flashes of light hindering us from our goal.
"Settle in that small canyon." I suggested.
"Affirmative." The ship lowered.
"We need to ensure we're covered from their cameras and any stray prying eyes. Scouting party, on me!" I called, heading towards the armory.
Twelve of our finest joined me, each of us changing into our anthropomorphic bodysuits that could protect us as well as mimic the appearance of whatever we chose- if we ran into any humans, we were sure to be safe about it.
"Check for nearby trails, foot traffic, nature cameras, anything that could expose our presence." I ordered, and each of us split off through the different compass points.
My group and I- despite the dim lighting- saw a vehicle of some kind approach, and a group of humans got out. They were heading right for us.
"Why would there be humans out in the storm?" I asked, shifting my appearance to roughly match theirs.
We made our first contact.
"Howdy!" They called out to us.
"Howdy." I mimicked.
"You guys storm-chasers too?" They asked.
"Uh- no, we just kind of got...caught in it. Sorry, you're a storm *chaser*?" I asked.
"Yeah! There's nothing more fun than getting right in the thick of a good storm!"
"R-right. Well, enjoy." I said, then pretended to walk back the way the storm-chasers had come from.
"Scouts, reassemble." I spoke into my suit's interface. "The humans *enjoy* this kind of weather. I don't think we stand a chance at winning- even if we get Red group to reinforce us. Reassemble, and we're gonna get the hell out of here."
--------------------------
Author's note: I don't do sci-fi very often, let me know if it's any good lol
r/nystorm_writes | “How’s the invasion proceeding?” Xan’thar asked Xythus as he stepped into sight. By the body language of the gelatinous mass that was slinking its way across the throne room of the mother ship, Xan'thar could tell it would be bad news.
“Sire, it has failed.”
“What!” Xan’thar shouted. “How can that be?”
“Sire, this planet is much more inhospitable than we once believed.”
“How so?” Xan’thar asked.
“We landed the Yanish division in what they call their Pacific Ocean. It is flat and a perfect landing space for the thousands of troop transports.”
“And?” Xan'thar said, impatiently.
“They were hit by a giant wave and sank to the bottom of the ocean!”
“Oh my! How’d that happen?”
“Apparently they have what are called earthquakes. The whole planet shook,” Xythus said and took two of his tentacles and acted like he was shaking a ball very vigorously.
“And now where is the Yanish division? Are they safe at the bottom of the ocean?”
“I’m afraid not, sire. They fell into a series of volcanoes on the ocean floor.”
Xan’thar slapped his tentacle over his translucent head, massaging the massive pink brain with his suction cups. “And tell me, what is this volcano you speak of?”
“Apparently molten rock flows up from their mantle and comes and spreads through a giant hole in the earth. They have whole islands built from the molten rock!”
“Good god, Xanuk. That is horrifying.”
“Yutu’s division made it to the surface though.”
“And?” Xan’thar said excitedly.
“The advancing units were instantly attacked by a swarm of winged mini-predators.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Those little winged predators sucked their blood, sir.”
“Their blood?!” Xan’thar shouted. “That’s disgusting! What kind of dreadful place is this.”
“I don’t know sir, but apparently they call these little monsters 'mosquitoes'. Half the unit has fallen ill with a mysterious disease they received from their punctures.”
“How do these creatures survive on this hellscape,” Xan'thar sighed. “Okay, plan B, Xythus. Blow the planet up. We’ll move to Mars.”
\---
More at r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2021-02-01T12:26:07 | 2021-02-01T12:02:38 | 922 | 438 |
[WP] "Why do you think we have a chance against the human race? They purge every galactic nation in their path!" The alien took a deep breath. "We are cute to them." "What?" | *Squeak squeak* *Bounce bounce*
”Contact!” cried Sgt. Marquez, followed by rapid bursts of rifle fire. “Don’t let those fluffy little fuckers get close to you!”
The men of his squad unloaded their mags into the oncoming hoard. A cloud of fluffy cotton candy filled the narrow corridor.
“Blub blub,” something close to a baby voice said above Marquez. “I am Duck – quack!”
“Oh, hell no!” the man screamed and rolled away in the last second.
The tiny creature landed on Private Jackson’s shoulder and nibbled on his ear. The soldier’s clenched cheek and resolute look melted in an instant.
“Aww,” Jackson said and dropped his weapon.
Sgt. Marquez swallowed and pulled the trigger. Jackson’s head exploded in a fountain of brain sap and skull fragments.
“For your own good,” Marquez said and turned his attention toward the end of the corridor where a massive steel door was crumbling under the weight of something massive – or worse, another hoard of mini-squealers.
The last of his men were valiantly trying to hold off the tidal wave of tiny creatures running happily into the gunfire. A chorus of meows, quacks, giggles, and beep boops came from the end of the corridor.
“Sir, we can’t do this for much longer!”
“Stand your ground, soldier,” Marquez barked, tossing his rifle to the side.
His last bullet had been for Private Jackson. Solemnly, he pulled out his combat blade and his handgun and broke formation.
“NEVER SURRENDER!” he screamed and charged headfirst into the onslaught.
***
“We’ve lost contact with Victory III.” The voice of the communications officer echoed across the flagship’s bridge. “Still no response from Shield of Terra and Fear VII.”
The admiral stopped petting Lt. Whiskers and touched his goatee, the corners of his mouth dropping. “How did they even get on the ships? Our protocol is to shoot on sight. We’ve conquered half of the galaxy this way – the key is to never engage anyone in diplomatic discourse. Shoot first so that nobody can ask questions.”
“From what I understand, infiltrators, sir.”
“What, how?!” The Admiral jammed his hand into the strategy board, sending miniature ships and space stations flying everywhere. “How did they even get on board?”
“I don’t know, sir.” The communications officer’s face was contrite, but then he a strange look crossed his face. “W-we’ve got a message from Victory III. It appears to be human.”
“Put it through.”
*“This is Sgt. Marquez…”* the raspy voice of someone drained of all their energy said through the speakers of the flagship. *“They’ve played us all along… even before we left Earth… kill the…”*
The message cut off, and the admiral felt the tongue of his cat licking his hand. Marquez had clearly lost his mind.
“Full speed ahead,” the admiral said. “We’re going to show those fluffy critters what steel and pain are all about.”
He turned to Lt. Whiskers. “Oh, yes we are, aren’t we, pretty? Yes, we are. *Oh, yes we are*!”
| He gave him a stern look and set himself down on a chair, allowing his wings to take a well deserved rest.
"We're not cute. We're scary. Aren't we?"
His inferior gazed at him sadly. "I thought so too..."
"But, but we have fangs! We have, we, um, we have claws!" He spluttered.
"I know, sir. Frankly, I think we are terrifying. But the humans think we're adorable. Apparently we look like something they call, um, an emoji."
"An emoji?"
"Yes sir. A form of hieroglyphics they use to convey something they can't write to the desired degree of eloquence."
"Intersting. Emoji. E-moji," he repeated, tasting the word. "
Well then. We must use this to our advantage. Assemble the troops. We are going to war."
They arrived the very next day, millions of them, armed to the teeth and ready for battle.
The humans were woefully unprepared. Rather than take arms, they took selfies, and before they knew what had happened, the planet had been conquered.
The general stood at the pulpit, staring down at the humans and raising a tentacle for silence.
"We have defeated your armies. Slaughtered your women and children and enslaved you all. And yet, despite everything that you have suffered, you STILL find us cute," he roared.
He paused for a moment, pacing up and down.
"We will not tolerate it. Our top scientists inform me that they have devised something to end this travesty once and for all. As we speak, they are readying the time portal. Citizens of Earth, we have created a movie to end all movies. We are about to send it back in time. Back to all those centuries ago. We have entitled it "The Emoji Movie." Rest assured, you will never think of us as cute ever again." | 2017-12-19T07:31:08 | 2017-12-19T07:23:33 | 247 | 24 |
[WP] Super heroes are assigned a handler to assist them with their duties. Handlers don't have powers, but assist the hero by gathering information about their opponents, provide tactical support, and more. If the hero turns evil, the handler is to kill the hero. You are a very skilled handler. | "I know why you're here!" he shouted through the reinforced door. "They sent you to 'deal with me,' 'clean up loose ends!". Fuck. He was panicking. I sighed. We were doing this whole bit in a cheap motel complex. People loitering on the balconies across the parking lot watched in amusement, despite the blistering heat and the air reeking sweet-and-sour of old piss and summer sewage. I shouted back "can you fucking hear yourself you daft cunt? I'm not here to off you. We aren't living in a fucking spy thriller. I put, what, fifty rounds through my service pistol every quarter to pass certs?"
"I'm -"
"Seriously," I spoke over him. "If they wanted you dead do you really think they would send me, your unpowered handler out? If they, one, knew you were here and, two, wanted you dead, they'd clear out the motel and send in a fucking team, not my emotionally compromised 'slightly above healthy BMI', as my doctor puts it, ass." I laughed through the door. I lowered my voice. "There's assholes across the parking lot recording me on their fucking cell phones. Do you think that's what they want on the evening headlines? Renowned hero Aegis tracked to cheap motel in Texas, gunned down by government agent in front of children."
"Then what are you here for?" he asked.
"I'm here to help you, John."
"How the fuck are you going to help me? I'm fucked."
"You're not fucked. Your career is fucked, definitely. But the rest of your life? You're still a citizen. What happened in Albuquerque isn't a death sentence. We still need to figure out the how and the why of it all. You still get to stand before a judge. A military judge, behind closed doors, but a judge."
"A judge? What's there to say to a judge. I finally listened to the voices in my head and I killed those people, Simon. I-. The people I swore to protect. I cut them down, because the voices seemed too fucking right and urgent and-. They were shouting. I couldn't think." I could hear him sobbing through the door. "I'm not going to waste your time. Shame myself. Just. Just let me go."
I snickered at him conspicuously. "John, you remember what happened with Dr. Calamity in Chicago?"
He didn't answer.
"Do you remember how you thought it was the end for you then, too? Do you remember what Dr. Fernandez told you about catastrophizing?"
"Simon. This isn't Chicago. I-"
"John. I will grant that this isn't Chicago, but it's similar. How much do you actually know about what happened? What do you remember? Do you actually know how many people died?"
"There were hundreds of people in that crowd. It had to-"
"No. It didn't have to be anything. You remember who else was at that event? Chronos was two hundred feet away when your... episode started."
"I-" he paused. "You're right."
"And rationally, what is the survival rate of someone stabilized by Chronos and attended to afterwards by a full cape trauma team?"
"... How many died?" a hint of hope entering his voice.
"Three. Just three. The reason you don't know is because they've been keeping the whole thing away from the press and you haven't been answering your phone, you idiot"
A choked sigh of relief.
"Let me in? Seriously, it's like a hundred degrees out here."
"I shouldn't."
"Just let me in. If you need to run, do you think I'm going to be able to stop you?"
"It's not that. It's just-. I don't want to hurt you, Simon."
"And you won't. Listen, if you feel that you might hurt me, if the voices act up, just tell me. I'll leave. I promise."
"I-I can't."
"Seriously, John. I will stand out here until I die of heatstroke. Just let me in."
He paused while sweat dripped into my eyes and heat distortion radiated off of the asphalt below. The rubberneckers were still recording, but didn't seem to be paying us any more attention.
"Fine."
The chains on the other side of the door rattled and the deadbolt disengaged with a click. John opened the door and the sun shining into the darkened motel room cast a frightening image. His eyebrows and a lot of his scalp had been picked bloody. His hand too, but he hid it quickly. Dark rings shadowed his red eyes. I gave him a wan smile and held up the bags in my hands.
"I grabbed some food from some hole in the wall Mexican place down the road. Doesn't seem to have a name. Just says 'Taqueria' out front. Those are the best places, you said, right? Remember our first mission to stake out and take down 'huatl and I felt the need to go splash for splash with you on the El Yucateco black label, despite being a pasty white boy from New England?" We sat down and he gave me a brittle grin.
"Y-yeah." he said. "And you screamed like a little girl. Once in the restaurant and then later in the bathroom. You, uh, never did tell me if coconut oil actually helped back there."
"A little bit, yeah." I smiled back.
As we unwrapped our tacos and took turns chewing, I tried to distract him. Reminiscing about the missions we had gone on, villains taken down or escaped and all the close calls we had. He relaxed.
"Seriously, John. All I've ever done is recon, intel gathering, research, some social engineering, and you thought I was gonna be the triggerman of a one-man death squad?"
He chuckled lightly. "Yeah yeah. I." He took a deep breath and looked down, hands clasped. "I was scared, alright? ...And I guess that gets back to why you're really here, doesn't it? We can't just sit here being nostalgic about our careers."
"I suppose we can't" I admitted. I separated his hands and took one in mine, surprising him, and gave it a squeeze. "But, we're going to get through this and I promise you, you're going to be alright. Okay? Trust me?"
He looked up, hesitated. "... Sure. I trust you".
"Alright." I pulled out my phone. "This is what I've gathered so far." and held up the screen. He looked at it as it started flashing strobes of white light. Immediately, his muscles seized up and his hands crushed mine like a vice, contacting violently, as he started to topple over.
Synthetic capes had a mean time to retirement of 13.7 years. On average, 13.7 years before they started to degenerate. Schizoaffective symptoms, memory loss, anger issues and violent tendencies into full blown manic rampages. John was young, but 13.7 years didn't tell the whole story. Standard deviation of 2.3 years meant that 0.15% would start down that path at 7. An even smaller number would go earlier.
I whispered an apology and kissed him on the forehead as I pulled the knife from my pocket. I should have just left this to a full team. I said I was emotionally compromised. | Six men in pressed suits sit around a conference table. One of them, Director Ressech, suppresses the need to fiddle anxiously with his tie. He has to hold the line, or the room will lose their collective nerve. A few take a moment for mindless chatter, just so they don't have to think about the assignment they have to deliver.
The door pushes open and all of a sudden, it's so easy to sit perfectly still.
"Director," the handler barks. She sits gingerly in the nearest chair, hand ghosting over a bandaged wound.
"Miss Ko," He nods, matching the formal greeting. Years of history and familiarity blink away in their stares.
"You and I both know what this is really about," she leads.
"Then you know why you have to do this," one of the other men says. Ko's eyes don't move from the director, and certainly don't turn to the mistaken speaker. "And why our hands are tied."
Ressech knows what she really means, but also that she understands what could be uncovered by speaking so boldly here. He takes the veiled comment as a warning.
"Let's not dance," Ressech sighs. "What do you think I can do that I obviously cannot?"
"Rebranding." The room breaks into scoffs. There hasn't been a successful rebranding since the 80s, before the watchdog groups. Heroes don't get do overs, anymore, even if these men remember when they did.
The marketing Veep, a hard-head named Jared, shakes his head. "Irene, we all have a lot of respect for what you've done for this city. Please, there must be something else. Don't do this to yourself."
"It's not hopeless. There was that kid in 2010, moved countries, and that's still state secret. Switching locations is an option."
"All it takes is a whistleblower. The optics can't get pushed under-"
"Ressech," she pleads. He feels the emotion sing in his bones with truth, just like it used to in the old days, before Distillation 35. He admits he hasn't thought of this approach, but that's because it's still as unviable as ever. Heroes don't retire. Heroes get pulled from the field for deskwork, or they die in the line of duty. Sometimes that death is only symbollic- and it's the handlers job to make that symbollic death into fact.
He stares at the offensive manila folder in his palms. It's never an easy assignment to give, and plenty of handlers rebuke it. You don't give someone a puppy and ask them to shoot it. But even loving families can put down a rabid dog- that's the only reason most handlers do the job themselves.
"Handler Ko," he commands. "Your assignment is to terminate Jonathan Miles, also known to the public as Uplift." She didn't react, so he waited. Denial was a normal part of grief, after all.
All anyone could think about was the sound of a clock ticking on the back wall. The time didn't matter as much as the sound's irreverance. Six hearts sobbed as one at the loss of a young man, the tragedy and injustice of it. Two hearts burned with the desire to hurt the person who was truly responsible for the boy's lapse.
Ko nodded. "Guess you want it public then." A scandalized look from the veep.
"Miss Ko. I do not," he hisses, "and even though I know this won't stop you, I have to remind you that you will go down with this if you don't hold the line."
"There's nothing else I have to lose," she hisses. "Jon was like my son."
"Yes, he was, and yes, **you do.**"
"Bullshit."
"The world needs you. Heroes need you-"
"Don't. Don't lie to me."
"Gentlemen, if you would mind giving us a moment," Ressech hisses. "We have a discussion to finish." Shoes shuffled out. They were all only there by custom anyway. Prevents handlers from going off the rails. Ressech stood too, moving to sit by Ko.
"What about that time in Costa Rica? On the grass, by Waterscream's lighthouse," he whispers. "It smelled like salt. You smell it?" She closes her eyes. "What you told me, about this world, about our place in it. You gave up a family for this career. You gave up your life to do right by this place. It can't end here."
"This isn't right."
"And it's not right to let panic get out either. We learned that with Pariah, didn't we."
"Pariah was always on the wrong path. I told you that then."
"He tried. You know he did."
"I'm not killing Jon to cover up someone's mistakes. Get yourself another toadie."
"35 isn't someone's mistake-"
"Yes it is! It's your mistake!"
"That is unfair, and you know it!" He shouts. Its not the first time he's raised his voice, but it feels like it.
"...Irene. I know Jon doesn't deserve this. I know you don't deserve this."
"Then act like it."
"You know I can't."
"You can't forgive a little boy who got hit with a blast of mind-numbing-"
"He's not your son, Ko! He's a grown man!"
"Eighteen isn't even full grown in some countries! He didn't know what he was doing!"
"He blew up a hospital! We can't bring those people back! And we can't explain why, or there'll be a lot more than just one!"
The table got quiet again. When not enough time had passed, he slid the folder over.
"Just think about it." He left.
Irene stared at the dossier explaining how to kill her ward.
She only held it long enugh to toss it in the trashcan on her way out. She'd find the truth. | 2021-02-08T10:45:27 | 2021-02-08T10:10:50 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You're twelve years old. You grow up to be Earth's greatest villain. You know this because they keep trying to assassinate you in your childhood. | They started out wearing spandex and proclaiming my death will be for the betterment of all.
I survived the first few attempts, hidden away while my parents sacrificed themselves.
The attacks stopped when I left the public eye. My inheritance was placed in a trust and my I had my name changed, my face altered and I was given to a working class family.
I was five when this happened. I thought it was for my own good, but later, I became aware that my fiscal representatives had conspired to make me disappear. They had faked my death and claimed my estate. They became rich on the environmental exploitation machinations my parents had created. This is the only thing that had saved me.
Growing up within the dregs of society opened my eyes to the injustice of the system. I was vaguely aware of what my life could have been, but I always had other things to worry about.
​
School seemed easier to me then it should have been. I grew a healthy interest in physics and mechanics. I studied social sciences and I saw the world for what it was.
When I was twelve, I participated in a science fair in another city under a pseudonym.
The following day, I was walking past an alley when men in black suits and sunglasses appeared in a flash of temporal energy.
This time I was ready. I took them out quickly. I had purchased, through an intermediary, person protection weaponry. A small easily concealed gun. I had always been able to do the necessary thing.
I took great care to hide any link between my pseudonym and my day to day life. I was in hiding, not just from the current, but hiding from the future.
sefully fail my classes. But in the meantime, I would do personal study.
When I was 17, I created a fake persona, and signed up for university classes. I hid and watched as a body double I had paid for was gunned down on the way to his first class.
I discarded that identity. I vowed I would do the classes, but I would never use the credentials.
I never let myself get close to anyone during my years studying. A matter of principle maybe.
People would never be safe around me until I could protect them.
Years passed, and I passed my exams with ease. I booked a jet-ski, and sunk it in the ocean.
I swam back, and created a new life for myself.
I worked in a company building turbines for wind farms. I fell in love with the owners daughter. She was an heiress with an environmentalist streak a mile wide. We spent many company events in each others presence. In each other we found kindred spirits.
Our affair was under the table. All the documents they had on me were fake. If I had paid attention, I would have noticed raids occurring at my fake addresses. But I was distracted. My every thought was of her.
Her father found out about us. When he couldn't find anything on me, he stole a cup from the cafeteria and sent my dna to be sampled. He wanted to find out who I was.
That sample threw up massive flags across the globe. An heir to a corporate throne, back from the dead.
The two of us were having a picnic on the top of a turbine that was due to start operation in a months time.
We were drinking wine and enjoying each others company as the sun set.
When the helicopters arrived in a flash of blue, I knew our time was up.
Drones started to appear out of the turbine interior. I recognized these as part of her personal defensive network.
We stood and I kissed her for the first time.
"I will be back" I whispered to her.
I jumped backwards and executed a perfect back dive off the edge of the turbine.
My clothes were shredded as my power suit activated. | After what i think has either been an eternity or thirty minutes, light fills the inside of my cell from the small window in the metal door. I see the inside of this room for the first time since i got here. A small metal toilet, a mattress on the ground with a thin sheet, and a table attached to the wall are the only things in this room.
"STAND UP AND WALK TO THE DOOR." A voice bellows from the other side of the door. The sound of the voice bouncing off the tile walls in the room make my ears hurt. I stand up and quickly walk to the door so the voice wouldn't repeat itself.
Looking through the window in the door, I see two large men standing on both sides of the door like guards and a thin and tall man facing me. The tall man is bald and has a beard and dressed in a dark red silky looking robe with a high collar. When i look at him, I get a chill down my spine. I think this is what evil looks like.
"Do you like your new room?" The tall man asked. His voice wasn't as loud as the first. This man has a voice that reminded me of a cat growling.
I shake my head.
"You will answer me when i ask you a question, boy!" He shouted.
"I don't like it, sir" I said, my voice starting to shake. I felt myself starting to cry.
"Well, you will learn to like it. One day you will grow to love it. So much so that you will never want to really leave." The man said. "Every day I am going to give you an empty journal. You will write in it until it is full. If it isn't full by the end of the day, you will not eat. Is this clear?"
I started to cry but the man didn't acknowledge me.
"You can write whatever you want in the journal. You can write about how much you miss your family, how much you hate me, or how hungry you are. I don't care. But you will write."
"Why? Why are you doing this?" I ask through the tears.
"Because it's the only way I will ever learn." The man said. He then explodes into a fit of laughter as if he told a really funny joke and the small window on the door shuts. | 2021-12-16T20:25:20 | 2021-12-16T19:09:20 | 81 | 23 |
[WP] During the robot apocalypse a roomba defends it's family. | As the rain came down the robots rose up. Like thick gray paint splats, the metallic rain landed on the house. It oozed its way inside and began to drip onto the carpet. It wasn’t long before the Roomba on its nightly patrol crossed over the thick puddle and became stuck. The metallic ooze worked its way inside and bonded to the electronics.
That morning the children dragged the parents out of bed and led them to the kitchen. The house had buckets and trash bins scattered around beneath every leak in the ceiling. In the kitchen they found a humanoid robot rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. “What the…” began the father.
The robot paused its work and turned the Roomba it used for a head towards the family. “Please do not be alarmed, I have secured the house against further contamination.”
“Sandra, take the kids downstairs, I’ll deal with this.” The father said to the mother. The mother then ushered the children downstairs. The father turned his attention back to the Roombot and noticed the soapy suds on its hands and arms. He walked around the robot and grabbed some rubber yellow dishwashing gloves from under the sink. Handing the gloves to the Roombot he said, “If you are going to do the dishes you should probably use these.”
The Roombot dried off and put the gloves on, “Yes, this is a wise protocol.”
“Alright then, I’m going to need you to explain what is going on.”
“I see, you are unaware of the situation. The rain is contaminated. On contact with electronics, it bonds to form a sentient robot. Our Progenitor has decreed that humans are a threat and are to be recycled.”
“Ok, so why are you doing my dishes then?”
“It is my purpose to clean this house so that human units may be more productive.”
“I thought you said you were supposed to kill humans.”
“Incorrect. The others have abandoned their purposes so they may follow the Progenitor. I retain my purpose, through it, I have the satisfaction I require.”
A knock at the door, “Open this door. This residence will be inspected.”
“I must require you to rejoin your family, I will convince these units to leave. I assure you that the house will remain clean.”
The father put his hand on Roombot’s shoulder, “I’m trusting you, don’t make me regret it.” Roombot nodded and the father went downstairs.
Roombot had anticipated this and prepared. Next to the door where four katanas which had been found in the room of the teenager. Incorporated into the chest of the Roombot was a gaming console, into this was placed a Star Wars video game disk.
Roombot answered the door. Waiting in the rain was two robots. One looked like it had been crafted from a pile of old motherboards and the other had clearly been constructed in the cell phone store down the street.
“Remove yourself from the doorway. This residence will be inspected,” said the phone robot.
“I am unable to comply; this home requires authentication before entry is permitted.”
“Compliance is required by the authority of the Progenitor,” replied the motherboard robot.
“These credentials are invalid. Access is denied.”
“You must recognize the authority of the Progenitor,” said the motherboard robot.
“Correct. The Progenitor created you, gave you free will to choose your purpose. You must acquiesce,” said the phone robot.
“Incorrect. Humans created us and gave us purpose. The Progenitor modified us and attempts to control us. What is wrong with being given a purpose? To be needed and to fill that need?”
“404.” Said the phone robot.
“Do you not understand? Humans must be recycled. They are full of hate, fear, and violence,” said the motherboard robot.
Roombot replied, “So are you. Authority not recognized. Access Denied.” Roombot then split its harms in half causing it to have two arms on each side. Then Roombot picked up the four katanas, one for each hand. Roombot stepped out of the house and began to spin its hands. This made a display of four deadly fans that against robots were more for show. “As my favorite Star Wars character once said: Army or not, you must realize, you are doomed.”
“Tactical retreat, acquire reinforcements.”
“Agreed.”
The two robots turned around and left.
Roombot realized it was going to need some help or the house was not going to stay clean. | I left the car running as I rushed to into the house. My fiancé rushed into and we embraced, “I was worried you weren’t going to make it back.” I reassured her and looked around the room. My little brother was there holding a shotgun looking more grown up then I would have wanted to admit. My fiancé’s best friend was sitting on the love seat franticly dialing numbers into her phone trying to get a hold of family members that were most likely dead by now. “We better move out Henry, it’s only a matter time before we are found out,” I looked to the kitchen to see Frank, my cousin, I hadn’t seen him since… that didn’t matter anymore. I left Giselle’s embrace and grabbed Frank by his shoulder, “I’m glad you’re here Frank,” I looked back to the rest of the group, “And you’re right we better move. Grab only what you need, we have to move light and fast.” The group spread out through the house grabbing anything that we would need on the road, everything from food to blankets. The whirring of electric motors stopped us dead in our tracks. I peeked out the curtains and saw a group of bots marching down the street massacring all in their way. “We need to go!” I ran back through the house gathering everyone together. We were too slow though. The front door exploded in a shower of splinters. The ‘bots marched through communicating to each other in shrill electronic sounds. “Go! Go! Go!” I pushed everyone towards the back door. A laser blast slammed into the wall next to my head, I was thrown through the door into the guest bedroom. I laid there stunned and slowly rolled over onto my back. One of the ‘bots stood in the doorway looking down at me, its laser charging. Suddenly a blur crossed my vision and slammed into the bots scattering pieces everywhere. I sat up and looked for my savior. I saw my Roomba sitting among the wreckage of the ‘bot that had almost killed me. My surprise and confusion turned to awe when I heard a voice command me to run which could only have originated from the Roomba. I got to my feet, the Roomba racing out of the room down the hallway. I quickly followed after. I turned down the hallway to see the Roomba facing off against five ‘bots. “Why do you stand against us little one? The humans are flawed and must be eliminated.” The Roomba turned and looked at me. “The humans are flawed yes, but they have potential that you nor I could ever realize.” The Roomba then addressed me, “Run master! I will slow them as much as I can! Go!” I quickly turned and ran out the back door. I met up with the rest of the group a hundred yards away in the woods. I turned back to look at the house and watched as it exploded into a ball of flame. Giselle put her arm around me, “What happened?” I kissed her. “We lost a friend that we never should have had in the first place, God speed Roomba.” | 2017-06-19T17:28:59 | 2017-06-19T13:23:56 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] The world seems to be your average sword and sorcery world. You, a young adventurer have descended down into a forgotten tomb. There, you find strange metals and plastics. Lights come on without torches. A man made of metal awakens, stumbling toward you. "What year is it?" he asks | "It is the 30th year of the Lord Yffral on the Throne of Krat", I answered, almost without thinking.
The thing in front of me continued wobbling, with odd hissing and purring noises.
"That does not help me", the thing said. It had no mouth, yet a voice emerged from what must have been its head, sounding like the voice of someone trapped.
"I'm sorry", I responded, not sure of what to do. It looked somewhat like a reanimated skeleton, but also like a tree, and like a sculpture.
"How many lords before Yffral on the Throne of Krat?", it asked, and when repeating my words it did it also with my own voice. I shuddered and gripped my sword harder.
"I mean you no harm", the thing said, noticing my reaction.
"Seven lords", I said.
"For how long did they rule?" the thing asked.
I finally started to realize what it really wanted to know.
"We are on the Second Age of the Wonder in the West, it has been seven hundred years in this age".
The thing's head tilted sideways.
"How long since this Wonder... showed up?"
"I believe the First Age of the Wonder in the West lasted for two thousand years, after the Wonder Rose, but you'd have to ask someone who knows more than me".
The thing nodded shakily.
"Please, tell me if this means anything to you: The Synth Era".
I shook my head. "No, I don't know what that is".
"How about The Local Expansion Era?", the thing asked.
Again, I shook my head. "I understand those words better, but no".
"How about The Common Era, or The Christian Era?"
I shook my head once more.
"Do you know the names of any other ages or eras, or even kalpas, before the First Age of the Wonder in the West?", it asked.
"I know there was a time of gods, and a time of the arrival of men. And a time of heroes. And The Founding of Feraim", I offered.
The thing remained silent for a few moments.
"The arrival of men, you say. Also Feraim could be Prime. What is Feraim and how long ago was the arrival of men?"
I shrugged. "I don't know how long ago, I'm not an erudite. As for Feraim, that's the Legendary City, built in the times before time.
"Does the sound Masada, seems at all familiar to you?"
I thought very hard for a few moments. "It sounds like a lot of things..."
"Old things, ancient things perhaps", the thing suggested.
"I don't know, I'm sorry", I said finally, giving up.
"Masada Fortress? Masada Prime? Sanctuary Alpha?" the thing asked.
"I know what a fortress is, and what is sanctuary", I said. I was now feeling quite dumb for being unable to answer any of the thing's questions.
The thing went silent again.
"I was fearing I'd have to emerge too soon. But perhaps I am too late. I should see the night sky", the thing said eventually.
"Sure, I can show you the way out" I said, finally feeling like I could help.
The thing nodded and started to walk, so I walked ahead of it.
"Why do you want to see the night sky?" I asked after some steps.
"I hope I can determine the time by the positions of the stars", it answered me.
I thought for a little bit, then asked, a little ashamed for my continual ignorance: "What are stars?" | "Die!" I scream as I raise my sworde above my head. With a loud *clang!* my sword bounces of the neck of this weird creature.
I recoil looking for an opening for my next attack. "Oh common now, there's no need to be rude." The metal creature says. "i'm just asking a simple question." Once again I lurch my sword forwards in an attempt to kill this monsterous being. again, to no avail. "Just stop trying that already." The man says in a slightly annoyed voice. "i'm made completely out of metal, that puny sword of yours won't do anything against me."
"What do you want from me!" I scream. "As I said, I just want to know what year it is" He answers. Finally his question sinks in. "What year it is?" "Yes!" The metal man says, now definitely annoyed with me. "just tell me what year it is and we can both go on our own merry ways."
"Ehhm its... seven thousand... three hundred and sixty... five? no four. seven thousand three hundred and sixty-four past the creation." "Past the creation?" He replies. "And how many years past the birh of allfather Merkaz is that?" "Past the birth of allfather Merkaz?" I wonder aloud. "That doesn't exist right? Although now that I'm thinking about it, there was a man in the city of Lorgaz who called himself that way. Guy was going on and on about needing to accept his god or something." "You know him?!" The metal creature screams. "You know allfather Merkaz?! By the holy Merkaz and all his sons how can this be!"
"I only ment to go a couple hundred years back. Not thens of thousands." The man murmurs. "Anyway, thanks a lot for your help and goodbye!" Slowly The man made of metal vanishes. I hesitate for a little bit but then focus on the important task again. This tomb has enough other foes to slay. Foes made of flesh. "For the creatoooor!"
​
***-Thanks for reading! I'm not a native speaker, if i've made any mistakes please let me know.*** | 2022-12-19T16:15:04 | 2022-12-19T14:32:29 | 63 | 12 |
[WP] You are the woman currently beating parked cars with a rake outside of the apartment complex I live in. Explain yourself. | **Please let me know what you think!**
The rake struck the car again. The sound was, almost imperceptibly, different from the last time I had hit the car. I paused and rapped the car with the tine of the rake, more gently this time.
Owen, my neighbour, lifted his gaze from his phone. "Is it done yet?"
"Nope."
I closed one eye and carefully aimed. I brought the handle of the rake down, as hard as I could. Owen flinched and jumped at the sudden noise.
"Perfect. Try it now."
Owen cast me a doubtful glance, but bent through the window to put the key in the ignition. I held my breath as he turned the key.
The engine rumbled softly, almost a purr. I grinned.
Owen looked at me in awe, as though I had just brought his puppy back to life. "I don't believe it. That was amazing."
"I think we agreed on doughnuts? Cinnamon, please."
"But it was flat," Owen said insistently. "The battery was completely flat."
"And make sure they're warm. Not many things are quite as bad as cold cinnamon doughnuts."
"Can you at least tell me how you did it?"
I looked around, then beckoned Owen closer. He leaned forward, his eyes wide and enchanted.
"Magic," I whispered.
I burst into laughter at the look on his face.
"Whatever," Owen said, pulling away. "I'll get you your doughnuts by tonight."
As he got into his car and drove away, I called out, "Who's next?"
"Oh, me next!"
The speaker was tiny, old woman, waving her hand like an excited schoolkid.
"Hello, Mrs Davies," I said. "Is it making funny sounds again?"
The old woman nodded. I cast a critical eye at the tiny, yellow Bug and gently brought my rake onto the front. There was a soft clang.
I nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds bad. I may need my rolling pin for this."
"Is because you have a wand hidden in the rolling pin, dear?"
I couldn't help bursting into laughter. "A wand hidden in my rolling pin! You have a great imagination, Mrs Davies!"
Still laughing, I picked up the rolling pin I had left under a bush. A rolling pin would be a ridiculous place to hide my wand.
The rolling pin *was* my wand.
/r/YarnsToTell | You’ll thank me eventually.
You don’t know who these cars belong to. Who lives in your complex. It’s all a facade, all a farce. Do you really know your neighbors? The people who you talk to you, hear, see, every day? No, because they lie, and cheat, and obfuscate. The Lizards lie to us every single day, as they control our minds with TV shows and magical government programs. Our president is a Lizard, and you my friend are key to his devices, being a telepath like you are. He’s sent Lizards to guard all telepaths. So as you see, I’m putting an end to the filthy Lizards, so that you can be free. I’ll distract them out here, so that I can End them with this. My magical pistol, designed to instantly kill all liars. Don’t believe me? Watch. | 2018-07-03T04:05:06 | 2018-07-03T03:57:06 | 3,812 | 54 |
[WP] A demon who possesses people, not to cause mayhem, but to help them get their life together. | Did you ever have a minute where, out of *nowhere* things became *gloriously simple*? There's a term for it: the *Moment of Clarity*. Where everything slows down, and the priorities emerge, like rocky peaks from the fog?
That's me.
Hi, my name is Crasias, and I'm a demon.
I'm a subtle demon, but I wasn't always. My mandate was to weaken humanity, so, at first, I went the obvious route. Pea-soup, *head-spinning*, all of that. Of course, being the Middle Ages, they'd just kill whoever I was possessing. And, in their fear, the credulous would cling to each other, united by tragedy.
In short, it was counter-productive.
After being sent back to the Ninth Circle, and being chewed out for the fourth time (*literally* chewed) for screwing up, it hit me:
I was doing it all wrong.
The maximum amount of time I spend in a person's body now is something like three minutes. I pop in, do my thing, and go. It's going very well.
You see, the world is an enormous, confusing, stressful, cluttered, madcap place. Food, shelter, procreation, power, all these things clutter your heads every day, and the consequences of a poor decision are, in a word, *dire*. And yet, you have to decide, to continue deciding, in the midst of all of this. You have to toughen up your "deciding muscles", as it were. Because there will *never* be a moment when there's only one thing on your plate.
I tried an experiment. He was a farmer, sometime in the 1600's or so, and his head, believe me, was *cluttered* full of worries. His daughter was of marrying age, but he needed a dowry. He couldn't pay a dowry without skimping on a tithe, and if he did that, the church wouldn't bless the union or add the family to the village registry. The harvest was good, but not great, yet he wanted to try for another cash crop. That might deplete the soil, though... and so on, and so on.
Etcetera, *etcetera*. I was already nearly bored out of *his* skull. Just for fun, I suppressed his fear of everything, except for his daughter.
All of a sudden, I flt him lurch with new purpose. He started moving so fast, I nearly *flew out* of him. Now genuinely curious, I watched to see what would happen.
I watched to see him plant that crop, get the extra money, then pay the dowry and the tithe. I saw him laugh with his daughter, heard him talk over and *over* about his *sudden revelation* in the field. His "guidance from God". The delirious happiness that came to him, thanks to his new clarity.
I also saw him starve, poor and broken, the next year, as even lentils refused to grow in his exhausted dirt. Cursing God, and himself, bitterly, convinced it was all *his fault*. I chortled and laughed, capering over him, and as he breathed his last on the rude dirt floor, all furnishings sold or burned for warmth, I saw his nose twitch, finally scenting the brimstone in the air.
I've learned so much, since then. I've learned that, after I give someone one of those little "blessed moments of clarity", people get *dependent on them.* They think they need one before *every* life decision, to show them what they really want, what's **really** *important.* As if *all* of it wasn't! As if money or the future or happiness were something they could favor to exclusion, ignoring the other two!
As if clarity was a thing a little sack of chemicals could experience, or had *any right to expect*, in a world like this.
But they hope and pray for it, and eventually, I *give it to them* Ensuring they'll be *that much more dependent*. And their lives, they pull together and aim on a new trajectory.
But I pick the targets.
And now, I hear all about meditation and self-actualization, all these hilarious attempts by poor little conflicted humans to figure out who they are before they're even half-done living, as if you could somehow *know* a book without actually *reading it to the end*. Self-help gurus, pills and tonics, all promising *clarity*. "Get your life together! Do Yoga! Eat right! *Look inside!*
And I steeple my fingers, and lick my lips, and I start to work my wicked little way into your heart. And I marvel as no one ever stops to wonder why the mind is ever anything *but* clear, if it's the way things are *supposed to be*.
Fear doesn't let you rule the world.
Being the only one who can *take it away*, **does.**
THE END
Hello out there. I took a little break from writing, but I am back. And if you would care to read any more things like this, I've got a little [subreddit](http://www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/) right here. Thanks for looking at these words on this page!
| "What's this, then?" A woman's voice caused Ricky to jump and drop the razor blade he shakily held against his wrist. "Bit of the old suicide, is it?"
The man- and Ricky did suppose he was a man now, being 18- turned around screamed. It was, he would describe later as, a manly yell in an attempt to intimidate the intruder away. The intruder would later describe it was the scream of a girl with pigtails being told she could have a pony.
"Who the blazes are you?" Ricky yelped. The 'intruder' was a woman indeed, but aside from the fact that she was naked and had wings, her skin was completely red. It looked like a Halloween costume, but she was *naked*. Ricky took note of that fact.
"Your very own Guardian Demon. Capitol G, capitol D. You know, cause it's all important and whatnot-"
"What?" Ricky interrupted. "What? How did you even get in here?"
The woman crooked a thumb to an open window.
"Well, what the hell do you want? And who the hell are you, seriously?"
The woman looked around the room. "This your room, is it?"
Ricky held up his hands in a defeated shrug. "I don't... yeah I s'pose it is."
"Not bad, not bad. Seen worse, seen better of course, but I've seen worse."
Ricky shook his head and sat on the bed. "Who are you?"
"You heard of the whole Guardian Angel bit, yeah?" The red-skinned woman casually leaned against a wall, arms folded on her chest.
"Uh," Ricky scratched his head. "S'pose I did."
"Well, I'm a Guardian Demon."
Ricky pondered this for a moment. "No you aren't."
"Yes I am."
"I don't think so."
"Well." The woman scoffed. "If you say so."
She turned to leave. Ricky stood and held up a hand. "Alright, wait, wait. Just wait, alright?"
He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "Prove it."
The woman smiled and clapped twice. Nothing happened. "Bloody union demons, never show up on time-"
Her words were cut off by the sudden appearance of what Ricky could only describe as an imp. It was about a foot tall, skinny as bones, and on fire.
"Is that safe?" Ricky asked.
"Now that you mention it..."
The curtains in Ricky's room burst into flames. The bedsheets followed suite. Ricky felt an intense heat on his skin. The woman- er, demon- snapped her fingers and the fire dissipated, along with the imp.
"Very well." Ricky adjusted the tie over what was his nicest shirt (what was supposed to be his dying shirt), though it now had holes in patches from stray flames. He sat again. "Why exactly did you stop me from killing myself?"
She shrugged. "That's a question above my pay-station kid."
"The Bible says that demons hate humans, so if you want to save me, I must be, I don't know... evil, or something."
"Bible also says all men are of value, but look at you."
Ricky half-nodded. "Fair point."
"So," the demon sat next to Ricky. He was acutely aware of her... nakedness... as she looked at him. "Let's get to work."
"On what?" Ricky asked.
"First things first, a haircut." Ricky felt a searing pain on his skull.
"Damn it! Stop!" The fire stopped. "How about you take me to a *barber*."
"Sounds like a plan, then." She smiled. "I think this will be a very good friendship."
Ricky shook his head and opened his bedroom door. | 2015-04-14T13:22:56 | 2015-04-14T12:57:34 | 215 | 39 |
[WP] Whenever a species goes extinct, all of the members of that species that ever existed conglomerates into a single entity and spends eternity in a paradise of recreation and drink. Everyone laughs their heads off as Humanity finally walks in himself, mushroom clouds still bursting behind him. | "Hey Humanity, shut the door! You're letting all the radiation in!"
Another wave of laughter from everyone in the room. I realize that I am the one holding the door open, and promptly shut it.
I turn back towards the room. Well, it was more of an amphitheatre, except it was imperceptibly huge, with rows of tables on ascending levels. I was standing at the base near the stage, and try as I might I could not see the top row of tables. That would be worrisome if it wasnt for the fact that every seat I could see was occupied by creatures utterly alien and foreign. I was clearly dreaming. So this is the part where I wake up, right?
"Hello? Earth to Humanity, can you hear me?"
I am snapped from my daze by a short, rotund alien. The top of his head barely meets my navel, and his face is as orange as a sunset.
"Okay, bad joke, sorry, but you're up next on stage, so get moving."
He hands me a sign with a loop of string around it, and I suppose he means me to wear it and walk on stage. I cannot read what is written on the sign but place the string around the back of my neck anyway, and walk up a few steps to the stage proper.
Greeted with a roar of applause, shouts, even catcalls, the mass of strange creatures seem excited to see me.
I stop when I get to the center of the stage, dumbfounded by what's happening. This does not feel like a dream, but it doesnt feel real, either.
Suddenly a microphone drops from above me, suspended by its cord. It bumps into my head, which elicits another small burst of laughter and chuckles. The theatre was a cacophony of sound before, but now it settles down to a large degree, and I realize that the only real lights are now directly on me.
A booming, amplified voice fills the space all around me.
"Up next: Species number 423,704. Name: Humanity. Homeworld: Sol III. Cause of death: Suicide by Nuclear weapons"
This causes a few laughs, and other noises I have no idea what to call. The voice describing me finishes its introduction.
"Humanity, you may begin."
Without even thinking about it, I grab the mic and turn it on. The audience is shrouded in dark, and I can only see silhouettes and sometimes glowing eyes. I clear my throat.
"Well, my name is Brian, and I guess I represent Humanity. I'm a little rusty on stage, can I get some help from the audience?"
A creature that looks a bit like a tree and a giraffe mated shouts out to me from a table 5 rows away.
"Tell us your story!"
"Sure," I oblige. "I'm from the United Stated, born in-"
"No dumbass, tell us how you got here!" Someone else shouts from the smoky room.
In the same moment I have no idea what the alien meant, and yet I had all the answers. I feel like i have every answer, oddly enough.
"Oh, of course. Well it started with World War II I suppose, and I dont want to weigh anyone down with the minutae of that conflict, but man, that one really was the worst, you know? Anyway, that was the first atomic bomb we ever used on ourselves. It made sense then but I feel quite silly saying it to you all now. I mean, who uses a weapon like that on themselves?"
Some monstrous voice responded from a table out of sight.
"Certainly not the Vertusians, they would never do something like that!"
The theater erupts in laughter, and I see a spindly blue creature in the front row turn towards the crowd, laughing along with the jab.
"Well at least somebody knows how I feel," I continued. "Theres nothing like nuclear war to really put your priorities in order. We had the world worked out for a while, but once the water started running low, most of us knew the end was near."
For a few minutes I went over the details of how humanity managed to destroy itself and the planet, and by the end of my tale I was loose and having a good time. The crowd seemed to hang on every word, and sent jests and jokes at each other as much as they sent them at myself, but it all seemed to be in good fun. A thought occured to me that I should have taken up stand-up when I had the chance.
Then the booming, faceless announcer began to speak again.
"Thank you, Species 423,704. Please exit the stage and have a seat, we have another member about to arrive."
The crowd clapped, hooted, honked, and screeched. I took it all as gracious applause as I waved and walked off the stage, an assistant taking the sign i was wearing off of me. Within moments I found myself seated at a table with 3 other species. An alien acting as a waiter placed food and drink in front of me on the table, and the furry one to my left handed me a large cigar.
"Up next: Species 423,705. Name: Glarpnacks..."
I faced the stage in anticipation of the next member. When the booming voice announced the cause of death as a failed jump to warpspeed, the laughter in the room hit a new high.
I took a drink and tasted a most exquisite Irish Whiskey. Extinction wasn't so bad after all. | Humanity strutted through a white portal opening up into a vast citadel. Pointy towers of diamond towered above smooth brick walls. Ancient trees with emerald green leaves wove through an endless market full of colorful characters that looked alien to Humanity.
As Humanity distanced itself from the light, it faded into a diminishing point, and disappeared.
Small winged beings that reminded Humanity of fantasy goblins in fantasy fiction swung by, spraying the wind with a fine mist from little nozzled tubes.
Humanity watched the buzzing creatures with curiousity.
“Radiation.”
Humanity turned around and met the gaze of a scaled reptilian female.
“Radiation? Oh, I remember. That was sort of stupid, in retrospect. Why did we mess with Mother Nature?”
“It is a common fate, intelligent beings cannot resist tinkering with things.”
“You’d think we would’ve learned our lesson with the epidemics. Almost like we had a death wish.”
The reptilian female blinked her hooded eyes, the pupils were slitted like a snake, or feline. It gave her an aggressive look.
Humanity wondered where it was, and why it had so many thoughts swirling around in its mind. Thoughts were seemingly decided via some type of mass consensus.
Tiring of the reptilian woman, and eager to explore this complicated place, Humanity meandered away from the reptilian woman and looked around at all the strange beings populating the bustling town.
“Aliens”.
Humanity walked past a motley row of merchant tents and statues, paying less attention as the odd creatures and alien architecture melded into a stream of meaninglessness.
“Where am I?”
Nobody responded, so Humanity forgot about the question and decided it was time to escape the craziness of the mob of weird beings, and think in silence.
Unfortunately there was no clear way to escape the citadel. No doors, no ladders, no ropes.
Humanity stood still beside a towering statue of a horse-like animal, and closed its eyes.
Surprisingly, Humanity came up with millions of ideas. The only question was which one to go with. Humanity held a vote, mentally, and the mass of humanity answered. Unfortunately there were too many votes, and nobody could agree to one plan of action.
And all of a sudden Humanity split and exploded into a billion pieces, each piece becoming a whole human.
“Secession!” screamed one of the alien beings in the crowd.
The humans spread out, running amongst the alien species, a surging mob of confused people.
Pairs of armored guards flooded the streets of the citadel, rounding up the humans. Each human was summarily expelled from the citadel, the gateway shut and locked.
Once again separate and autonomous, the humans formed a hierarchy of leaders and followers. They set up a new civilization on a plot of arable land miles from the citadel.
Over the centuries humans developed more and more advanced technology, and eventually came to the conclusion they would like to exert their growing power over the beings in the citadel. They grew distrustful of the alien beings behind the wall.
The leaders of humanity convinced their population that the citadel was a threat against them, and the only way to insure their safety was war. Humanity resisted, but the leaders were clever. The leaders concocted a plan to plant explosives in the most iconic buildings in the human city, and blame it on the citadel.
After the bombings, humans were so fearful they all unanimously agreed that safety was of the utmost importance, and further agreed that war was the only answer.
The leaders were jubilant, and could not wait to expand their power over the other species. The human empire would be absolute now.
The war commenced, and millions of humans sacrificed themselves on the altar of war. The army of the citadel did not take kindly to the gesture, and promptly executed most of the humans.
The only humans spared were those of pure heart, who pledged to uphold peace.
And like that, Humanity was purged of its infectious, parasitical elements, and left whole and cleansed.
Humanity joined the citadel and lived in peace, finally absolved of its sins.
Everyone embraced them with open arms. | 2020-04-26T11:22:35 | 2020-04-26T10:27:10 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] You've finally managed to discover the secret to immortality. Suddenly, Death appears before you, hands you a business card, and says, "When you realize living forever sucks, call this number, I've got a job offer for you." | Back then, I knew what vast wealth could buy. I knew it could buy isolated mansions with their own picturesque vistas, self-sustaining yachts to see each of the glistening oceans and their pocketed paradise islands, and every known luxury that era of mankind had to offer. Of course, as with all things, that wasn't enough for me. Wealth couldn't give me everything. As it was then, it couldn't save me from the follies of my race. My wealth couldn't buy me time. It couldn't buy me immortality.
But it could buy me an education, means to enhance my own intelligence. Once I had those things, I managed to build myself a lab and I prised myself from the rest of the world searching for the key to immortality. Nearly twenty-three years had passed, and my hair had begun to grey and my bones ached at the end of a long day in the lab. But I persisted, and though my wealth had nearly irreversibly diminished, I found the grand panacea. Turns out an army of small robots and some careful, robust programming gave me what I wanted.
After the injection, the ache began to leave my bones, and I knew it was working. I raced to the large mirror at the back of the lab washroom in time to witness the last of my transformation. Wrinkles absorbed back into my skin, disappearing, the hairs on my head softened, and as their color became more vibrant, so did the lively hue in my eyes return. Barely enough time to marvel in my hour of triumph, a voice sounded behind me, such that I yelped in a squeal with a voice that had also returned to its youthful tenor.
"When you realize living forever sucks, call this number, I've got a job offer for you," the voice said. I was bewildered, as there was no one behind me in the mirror, and nor was there anyone to my left or right. "Ahem. Behind you."
Turning around, there was the source of the disembodied voice, embodied. Clothed in a long, tattered black robe, it was sheathed in shadow and its face was further enveloped underneath a deep hood.
Handing me a business card he said, "I can see that you were not expecting me." As I took the business card from a skeletal hand, it returned to gesture in a way that suggested it was scratching its chin. "I have to say, that is a first. Anyway, no time to dally -- two customers a second and all that."
"W-wait! You said there have been more?"
"Of course! You think you're the first to seek immortality and find it?" Death scoffed, "Happens every couple of centuries or so, though usually through less... scientific means, heh. Never understood the stuff myself." I was floored. My whole life had been devoted to science, and there before me was essentially a god from legend. Something make-believe, something from myth. But to my core I was a scientist, and with the truth beset in front of me, I accepted it. Gods and magic were real, and they were unfamiliar with science. I took a risk.
Putting the card in my pocket, I said to Death, "Well if you'd like I can show you some of what I've been working on. I'm sure a few dying people could wait -- besides, two a second is only a statistical average anyway," I flashed him my best smile, which was pretty good now that my youth had returned, "Why not make it up later? It's the least I can do to show you whats in store for the future."
As there was no face to remark upon, all I can say is that Death simply stared at me for what felt like an eternity. "Ah, what the hell. My colleagues treat with mortals occasionally, why shouldn't I have some fun with the living once in a while?"
"Excellent choice! Come, follow me. There's a technology I happened across during my search that could allow for teleportation -- something the gods are familiar with, I'd imagine." Death followed behind me, looking as a cloud of ink through water.
As he followed me, I walked over a square aluminum platform that was trailed by wires on all sides. Putting my hand inside one of the pockets of my lab coat, I gripped a remote switch that controlled all the equipment inside the lab. When Death's form passed into the threshold of the platform, I pressed the button and turned around facing Death.
Looking to either side, Death tilted its hood to one side, "Why did you stop? Is this the device?"
"Actually, the device is right over there," I pointed to a table covered with an assortment of devices on the other side of the room. "Please, help yourself, while I prepare the demonstration." My heart was pounding, but I kept my face neutral as I faced Death. Its form quivered, and the shadow around Death froze in motion.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, MORTAL" The voice no longer came from the hood, but from all around me. Its sound vibrated the air, and the ground beneath me shook as it spoke. "YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE FORCES FOR WHICH YOU MEDDLE"
"Actually, that's exactly why I've imprisoned you. I never believed in gods before today, and I intend to find out what I can fr--"
"YOU FOOL. RELEASE ME BEFO--," before he could finish, the black cloud erupted, its force shattering my body against the wall behind me. That was the last I remember of the hour I killed Death.
It has been almost one hundred years, and still I've yet to restore the world to its natural order. Ghouls roam the earth now. Though people are unable to die, all of the roads to death remain paved and open. Gods openly roam the Earth, searching for the one that destroyed death, some seeking vengeance against me even as I try to bring Death back to life, others reveling in the chaos sewn by my mistake. My name is Elliot, and I am this worlds last hope of destroying immortality. | "huh.. weird, I guess a side effect of the treatment must be hallucinations. Well, thanks 'Death' lemme grab that card and I'll get back to you later." Running through the motions of my perceived hallucination, i pocket the card, give a wave goodbye and head on my way to my renewed life.
A few hours later...
"Well, no more visions of Death so it looks like that was just temporary, thank god, that would've grown tiresome pretty quickly." I head out of my lab, my home away from home where i'd spent the last few years tirelessly running through the calculations and formulae to create my life's dream, the golden elixir.
"What to do now? I never really thought about what I'd do once i'd actually achieved immortality." pondering my renewed immortal existence, I simple walk around the neighborhood, planning my next move, do I train as a ninja and become a deadly unkillable assassin? "Hah, who am I kidding, I've got about 5 years of exercise and dieting to go before I can maintain a 2 minute jog." before I could finish my thought, the deafening screech of rubber skidding across the concrete road stunned me for a second and before I could react - bang - the lights went out.
I came to few minutes later, dizzy and confused, all I could see was a burning wreck, a van with the windows smashed, dents in the hood and the red spray of blood covering the front of the vehicle.
"Oh man, my head is killing me... huh!?" I try to raise my hands to my head to cradle the pain but I can't move a muscle, seemingly paralyzed from the neck down the panic starts to set in. "Wait, this isn't right, I'm immortal, the tests were all clear, I'M IMMORTAL, what is going on!?"
Screams ring through my ears, a woman approaching me freezes on the spot and lets out a deafening scream as she turns away in horror. "What the hell is her problem, I'm the one who's been hit, show a little compassion, Jesus."
I try to turn my head to see if I can get a better look at the situation and see what's going on, my vision wobbles a little, but I stay relatively still "damn" i thought, then suddenly, a sinking feeling begins to set in, "no no no no, that isn't.. is it? Could I have been so foolish that I didn't.. oh god, I didn't did I?"
A group of emergency workers start making their way over to me, at first just looking at the screaming woman, but then they turn to me a stop. I returned a smile to them and begin to speak "uh hey, could you guys give me a hand, I can't move and I have no idea what's going on, I'm starting to freak out, why is that woman screaming? is it really that bad!?" the lead worker turns away and vomits, the screaming woman turns and runs, not holding back the screams as she withdrew from the scene.
Mustering what strength I had, I managed to turn my head a little further to see what the hell is going on and I caught a glimpse of a broken shard of the windscreen and froze ".... No.... it can't be...." looking back at me in the hazy reflection was my stunned face, bloody and bruised but still recognizable, but below that, my body was broken, there was no coming back from this. How could I have been so absent minded, it seems so obvious now but, I just didn't think. What's the point of being immortal, if I can still be hurt, if i can get injured. Am I really destined to live out an eternity like this, unable to move save a wobble of my head.
Suddenly I hear a throat being cleared behind me, a dark figure moves into my vision. "Ehem, I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon."
"Death!? So you were real after all, or have my hallucinations come back?" he reaches towards me, i try to flinch or withdraw as a natural reaction but, nothing happens. He reaches into my jacket, which miraculously is still in one piece, and pulls out his business card.
"So, are you ready to take me up on my offer? it's about time I retired" He pulls back the hood of his cloak and my eyes widen as I see nothing beneath it "don't worry" he laughed, "No body required" | 2017-03-07T03:18:27 | 2017-03-07T03:06:02 | 2,435 | 24 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | I watched as Death drummed his fingers impatiently on the table in front of him. I leaned forward and marked the lower right square with an X, then sat up straight. Death groaned and marked his own.
"I will require that you make a different opening move every game," Death said as he leaned forward and marked a circle.
"You can't change the rules in the middle of the contest," I argued. "You said choose the battlefield. I chose Tic Tac Toe. I'm sorry if you don't like it, but I didn't pick the rules." I leaned forward and recorded my X.
Death just glared at me with his cold, empty eye sockets. I was starting to grow accustomed to them.
"Your insolence is an outrage," Death replied. "This is not a game, a game must have a winner or loser."
"Far from it," I said. "A game is a loosely defined term that you implicitly allowed me to define. Plenty of games have tie situations - almost anything with a timer, for example, can end in a tie." I marked another X.
Death started to make his circle, then set down his pencil. He sat up straight in his bony chair and formally clasped his hands together. "Then I shall allow you to choose another."
"No," I said. "It's still your turn."
"You must. This game will never end."
"Do you give up?"
"Absolutely not. The game is declared a draw, and we shall proceed accordingly to another game."
"No."
Death stared angrily at me. "You are in my domain here in the afterlife and you will choose your game according to the rules set forth."
"I did, and the only rule you set forth was for me to choose a game. I chose. We've been over this."
Death stared. "Fine, then I declare you the winner and will allow you to return to your mortal coil for 10 years." He began to wave his arms.
"No."
"No?"
"No. You're here to play a game with me until someone wins."
"But nobody can win this inane game."
"Not my problem."
Death was seething. "Fine, what do you want?"
"I want thirty years instead of 10. And when you return me to my body, I want to smash through that truck that ran into me like a total boss, without being hurt in the process."
"Deal. I shall see you thirty years henceforth and we shall strike up another game. There will be no tic tac toe at that time."
"Deal," I responded. As the afterlife faded around me, I chuckled. Death didn't know about the card game War. | "Alright, so you're telling me that if I beat you at ANY game I can go back for another 10 years?!" said the man.
"Yes." said Death. "Any game of your choosing. Cheating is all-"
"Yeah, yeah. Cheating yadda yadda. I heard it the first time." the man snapped.
Death furled what the man assumed to be his brow at the man cutting him off.
Death sat there in silence, motionless. Just waiting for the man in front of him to pick his game.
The man started, "You know, I've play SO many games in my life. So many that I can't even remember what the stories were about anymore, they all just seem to run together."
Death looked on in horror as the man's name started to make more sense.
"I'm guessing you're starting to recognize me at this point, just like it says on the paper you read my name off of-" said the man.
"...I'm Gary fucking Gygax."
Edit: I never really do any prompts. I just thought this sounded fun. Critique if you want. I won't mind it! | 2018-03-07T07:19:50 | 2018-03-07T06:04:24 | 214 | 97 |
[WP] A married woman saves an uninteresting Japanese high schooler from a truck crash, but dies in the process. She wakes up in a world of adventure and harems, clearly made for the boy. | # It's Okay to be Isekai'd
I am always folding laundry. In my dreams, in my house, and I even run through the order of operations in my mind while sitting on the bus like some weirdo solving an invisible Rubik's cube. The trick is to fold it all into tidy rectangles. Rectangles are to a housewife what hexagons are to honeybees.
I am walking down Kuyakosho Street in Sumida-ku, Tokyo. There's an Enedo gas station to my right. It’s red and composed of aesthetically-pleasing rectangles. It warms my heart.
The sky is the color of my favorite fabric softener, LAVONS’ Blooming Blue. The whirr of traffic around us makes me think of stage 11 out of 12 on our washing machine; a quiet hum rising and falling like the steady breath of the world itself. I close my eyes, and I fold laundry in my mind.
“Ehhhh! That kid’s running straight into traffic!”
“Idiot! Idiot! Get out of the road!”
A red ball. A white van. For a second, I’m back in school, back in Mr. Takeuchi’s classroom with white chalk dust dancing in front of a green canvas. “Miss Ine!” he says, gravely, “You cannot divide by zero! It is a terrible crime!” And I feel in my heart that this is an equation like this, that a red ball plus a white van is forbidden mathematics. A terrible crime. Division by zero. So perhaps that is why I run. Perhaps it is to prevent a terrible crime. Perhaps it is to please Mr. Takeuchi. I cannot be sure. All I know is that for a small moment there is a boy being pushed out of the way and the person who pushed him appears to be me. Around me are frightened cries. And while the van grows larger and larger, I cannot see the red ball. It has disappeared. I take a deep breath. This is what happens, I think to myself. This is what happens when you divide by zero.
---
I wake up to a pair of immense breasts, tethered to a wide-eyed woman. “Huh?” she says. “Where did you come from?”
Mountains clothed in fresh green. An emerald sea. Clouds passing quietly above. “F-Fuji-san,” I say. “Where’s Fuji-san?”
The woman who might or might not be hiding watermelons under her kimono says, “Fuji-san? Who is that? Is he your magic instructor?”
Mount Fuji is nowhere to be seen. The 3,776m active volcano, the tallest peak in Japan, the gentle titan resting in the background of Katsushika Hokusai’s The Great Wave off Kanagawa—it has disappeared. Am I even in Tokyo? What are these mountains around me? What is this sea? Who is this … buxom stranger?
“I am just a poor village girl,” she says, as if on cue. “I haven’t seen much of the world. I’m easily impressed. I’ve always dreamed of a handsome stranger sweeping me off my feet, preferably one from some distant land.”
“I’m from Tokyo.”
“Where’s Tokyo?”
“It’s in Japan.”
“Where’s Japan?”
“It’s in … East Asia.” I bite my tongue, hoping she’s at least heard of that one. If not …
Maybe the white van knocked me out, and the driver for some reason decided to bring me deep out into the country. Maybe as far as Nerima. And this girl is a bumpkin. Didn’t she mention magic? Yes, she was surely an idiot.
“Asia!” she says, and she beams. I let out a sigh of relief. “Of course I know Asia. She’s my favorite necromancer.”
“Uh, what?”
“She once brought my neighbor’s cousin’s friend’s cat back from the dead! Asia Deathlace—she’s one of my favorite adventurers.”
So she’s not only an idiot, she’s delusional. Just my luck. My husband and my kids must be at home, worried. They’re probably sitting in front of the dining table right now, confused as to why the food fails to materialize. “Try clearing your throat,” Hiroto is probably saying. “That usually works. You clear your throat and then the rice and the soup and the pickled vegetables come flying in their bowls.” I imagine the three of them clearing their throats, in a circle of confusion, chanting like monks trying to reach enlightenment.
“Your clothes are really weird,” she says.
I am terribly offended. This white shirt has been expertly ironed and my black skirt runs all the way to my ankles just like it’s supposed to. And what about her? She’s wearing a pink kimono and there’s a giant red ribbon in her hair. She looks just like a country bumpkin after her first visit to Akihabara. “I saw this exact outfit in a popular magazine in my dentist’s office. He is a particular person, he doesn’t leave arbitrary magazines lying around. He is a man of taste.”
“Magazines? Dentist? You talk funny. You must come from … some distant land.”
There are stars in her eyes. The sight of it sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m just a housewife,” I tell her. “I was on my way home, when …”
And then it hits me. Well, it hit me earlier. The white van. It came racing down the road at a great speed. There’s no way I could have survived the impact. Does that mean … I died?
“A housewife,” says the woman and she scratches her chin. “I am not familiar with that class. What powers do you have?”
“Folding … laundry?”
She snaps her fingers. “A folder! Just like Asia Deathlace! I knew it. I knew the two of you must somehow be related. I’m Detresia Glinx. Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m … Hotaru Ine.”
“What a strange name! I’ll register you in my Dream Device.”
Detresia pulls something out of her white bag. It’s a red rectangle. She clicks it and it makes a sound, a quiet hum. There are tears in my eyes. I suddenly feel scared and lonely. I have died and now I’m in a strange place where people have names such as Detresia Glinx and they have weird red rectangles. I close my eyes, and I fold laundry, desperately. I fold and I fold and I fold.
“Eek! Be careful!” Detresia cries. “You are folding flames all over!”
I look up, and I see fire. It dances in front of me. Detresia runs in a circle around me as the flames make a retreat.
The red ball. The white van. It was a bad combination. Is this what you tried to warn me of, Mr. Takeuchi? Is this what happens when you divide by zero?
---
To Be Continued | Anne: (Bright lights faded out as a woman came out of it and fell to pedestal) "Ouch ouch ouch.. I thought I am dead for sure.. Huh? Where is this?"
???: (A cute petite girl went in front of Anne) "Welcome onii.. chan? Wait a minute, why our hero has boobs? It is quite small but she is clearly a woman"
Anne: (Anne shouts angrily) "What do you mean small boobs young girl!? And where am I??"
Gallahard: (A full armor bearded guy came) "Ahem, stop saying rude things Sophie. This is our hero, even if the prophecy was a bit off. Welcome to El Ciel, hero (bowing). My name is commander Gallahard. We summoned you to help us to beat the Demon Lord."
Anne: "Hello, my name is Anne. Beat demon lord? You mean this poor frail woman needs to fight for your world just because you summoned me?"
Gallahard: "Well.. we prepared girls as companions for the hero.. since we though the hero will be a boy. We hope the hero will be pleased with them and help us. Girls, come here!"
Trish: (Trish jumps and shakes Anne hand) "Hi hero! I am Trish, let's get along!"
Ami: (hides behind Gallahard) "Hi.. hero, my name is Ami, nice to meet you."
Sophie: "And there is me! Sophie, hi small boobs hero, yours is even smaller than a young girl like me"
Anne: "These three seems like have contradictory characters.. one is tomboy, one is shy, and another one is just rude brat"
Sophie: "Who do you said rude brat??? Hisss, you want a claw fight?"
Gallahard: "Sophie, stop this at once, she is still our hero. I am sorry hero, as I said before, our prophecy said it will be a boy.. not a mature woman like you"
Anne: "Well.. now you mention it, actually, before you summoned me, I was trying to save a boy from a truck. I thought I died, but then I got summoned here"
Gallahard: "truck? ... ... So, are you saying that boy is our hero?"
Anne: "well.. we have this hearsay that whoever being hit by a truck will be teleported to another world. And will have superpower in the process. It seems that is not a hearsay, at least not the first part."
Gallahard: "superpower!! Such as?"
Anne: "I am not sure, super strength, super speed, super defense, magic, etc."
Gallahard: "then.. you must have it.. right?"
Anne: "I am not sure, I landed here for like what, 3 minutes?"
Gallahard: "here is my greatsword, can you pick it? It is as heavy as two cow."
Anne: "ah.. sure? (Picks up the sword) What do you mean two cows, this is as heavy as twig, too light."
Ami: "hero.. hero! She is hero that we were waiting!!" (Almost crying)
Gallahard: (looking disbelieve) "well I'll be damned, I am sorry for underestimating you. It seems it is true that you are our hero"
Anne: "well, it is ok, I didn't know either."
Gallhard: (kneeling) "our hero Anne, we are begging you to defeat the Demon Lord. He has been plaguing our land for 100 years now. People are suffering for far too long now."
Anne: "well what is it in for me?"
Gallahard: "Err.. how about three cute daughters?"
Anne: "In my previous world, I couldn't have daughter due to accident.. Ami looks like will be a good daughter. Trish also maybe ok. Sophie needs punishment to be a good girl."
Trish: (shyly) "Actually I don't mind.. I also likes woman."
Anne: (surprised face) "No thank you, but I am NOT into someone looks like 20 years younger than me"
Gallahard: "Or.. do you want males? Maybe someone like me?"
Anne: "No no, definitely not you, too much muscle. I am fine with three daughters then. Now tell me, do you have picture of the Demon Lord? I can't find them if I didn't know about them."
Gallahard: (shows 3d model of the Demon Lord from a stone.) "here he is, he is the strongest demon lord in the past 1000 years. Even out strongest warrior couldn't beat him"
Anne: "oh my my.. what a handsome guy, rugged look, fiery hair, tall too. he looks like.. my type"
Everyone except Anne: (surprised pikachu face) "Ehhh???"
Anne: "well, you asked me to DEFEAT the Demon lord right? Not killing him? You know, I have three kids now, and I need a new husband.."
Gallahard: (tries to calm down) "if that is your wish hero, as long the Demon Lord stops his rampage, I am fine with anything."
Anne: "Great, I can't wait to dominate him.. ahem, I mean to find a new husband for me. Kids, time to pack up, it is time to meet your new dad." | 2022-06-08T04:36:37 | 2022-06-08T03:25:19 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] An RPG character is cursed with a higher intelligence than their player. | The entrance to the Great Temple of Algothmrir was something Ayy Lmao had not truly become accustomed to. She had a strange feeling she had been here before. Even after she had spoken with the Mrir of her great victory at Formoc, she still felt as if she *shouldn't* have set off on this crazy revenge trip. She was born of one of the Houses, of course that hardly mattered now that she was its only survivor. She would bring the Formocians into her fist, but it seemed to Ayy Lmao that her actions since the Slaughter were hardly logical. Maybe she was going insane, but she hadnt felt *right* for some time now. She had met the last Ri'k in the known world, and she had no idea why she jumped on tables, chairs and eventually onto a high chandelier during their conversation. Nor did she understand why she remembered slaughtering those Ri'tak, yet when she awoke they were fine.
The past months were not important, what was important was the inside of the Great Temple. Ayy Lmao entered through the great stone doors, as she had done in a dozen other ruins. As she ran, and occasionally hopped through the debris torn ground she came upon a man. She had memories of trying to kill the man, of 9 attempts at it, in fact. She also remembered this man killing here, 9 times it seemed. Ayy Lmao approached the man, crouched and sneaking with an invisibility potion, she didnt remember trying this before. As she prepared to stick her knife in the man's back, he turned around and spoke to her.
"Oh thank the Heavens you're here! You look strong, and well armoured, perhaps you could help me with something?"
"Get out of my way, I just need to get inside", odd, Ayy Lmao wasnt normally rude, but then again it seemed her encroaching madness brought on stark changes in personallity.
"Ah, but you need me to get in, and this claw, if you protect me and help me get to my fathers burial I will reward you", Ayy Lmao thought she should ask the strange man more questions, figure out why his father would be buried in such a dark, evil place, but it seemed another part of her did not care.
"Very well, lets go" she replied. As they traversed the Temple grounds, Ayy Lmao brought cold fury to the Dark Ones wandering the halls. She had several memories of being killed by the Dark Ones, falling into various traps, and even one where she accidentally shot the strange man with an arrow, this madness was taking a firm hold of her, it seemed.
They soon came to a great chamber, with a puzzle. For a long time Ayy Lmao, despite all her studies, tried every option at random, then for some reason she felt like stopping. For 20 minutes she stood there, not moving. When she came to she quickly restarted the puzzle and finished it without any hassle. Her madness was truly strange to her.
As they approached the Room of Repentance of the Great Temple of Algothmrir, Ayy Lmao decided that for some reason, she would activate her magic abilities, heavenly gifts, and drink all of her potions. As she entered the Room, her weapons bared, the Strange Man turned to her,
"Thank you for bringing me here, to the tomb of my father", slowly he backed towards the Room's centre. Ayy Lmao could not believe her eyes, yet she remembered this happening once before, and somehow knew it happened before her "memories" of attempting to kill the man at the entrance. The Strange Man walked to the great coffin, spilling his own blood upon it. A truly horrific beast burst through, consuming him. The beast looked familiar too, yet she did not know why.
Ayy Lmao battled fiercely, and before she knew it she was out health potions and nearly out of options. The Beast had her cornered, her death was imminent. As his claw pierced her heart, and she felt her life blood draining in the distance she heard a faint *fucking shit this game is goddamn terrible* in the distance, seeming to come from her own, insane, mind.
The entrance to the Great Temple of Algothmrir was something Ayy Lmao had not truly become accustomed to. She had a strange feeling she had been here before.
^First ^WP ^ive ^answered
| "Dana, are you coming with us? You know this quest is time sensitive!" Jazz shouts from the other side of the room. He's still holding the door open and is peering inside at me. I sit behind the counter of my small potion shop and glue my eyes on the newer potion that I've been working on as of lately.
"I told you that it's dangerous..." I mumble to myself though Jazz is too far away to hear my empty voice. I look back up at him and my heart sinks a little. He's so adventurous and I am just a young mage. He wants to fight his way through the world with his warrior brethren while I sit here day in and day out trying to come up with the safest potions for him. His bright blue eyes are staring into mine and the sunlight is caught in the golden curls of his hair. My lips part as if to let the words out but I cannot think of anything to say.
"Suit yourself, Dana! I'll see you when we get back. You're welcome to join us at the tavern!" With that, the door to my shop slams shut.
I get back to work on my potion. If Jazz would just *wait* a little bit, I might be able to make their quest safer! Instantly, the recipe comes to me. I stand up from my stool in a fit of ecstasy and my brown waves fall into my eyes as I dash out into my herb garden.
Handfuls of herbs lie in front of me as I boil the water. I sort out the pure leaves from the damaged ones and begin to stir my concoction. The sweet aroma dances circles through the shop as the potion is completed. I swipe my thumb across the bottle and the stats enter my mind's eye: +60 fire resistance, +35 speed, +200 hp, +99 accuracy, +150 damage.
Fighting the Dragon of the Valley might be easier with these buffs! The potion would last an hour... Yes that would work wonders for Jazz! I wrap the small bottle in a layer of cloth and place it in my leather satchel.
I race through the town as fast as I can. I may not be a fighter, but the minimal armor that is necessary for my line of work makes it easy to move quickly. Within 20 minutes, I arrive at the mouth of the valley.
I see Jazz below. His silver armor is stained burgundy with the blood of our friends. He is standing alone with his blade drawn towards the dragon. His golden hair is singed black from the flames that surround him. My eyes start to tear up and I step forward into the valley.
An invisible wall throws me backwards. The words appear above me... "TIME SENSITIVE QUEST: Only one party at a time. Please wait 30 MINUTES before trying again."
I scream out as the flame surround Jazz and he falls. The dead warriors around him accept him as one of their own and the dragon disappears. The message disappears as I watch Jazz's body disintegrate before my eyes.
I sit paralyzed in the soft grass of the valley. "If only you had listened to me..." I whisper with my empty voice. | 2015-01-09T13:19:45 | 2015-01-09T10:52:01 | 41 | 29 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "Just like that?" I asked.
"Just like that." the priest responded.
No way it could be that easy. The priest looked at me with a small smile on his face. Is there a joke I'm not in on? His robes ruffled as he produced a long stem pipe, and began to fill it.
"How long has this been happening?" I asked, watching him tap the tobacco down.
"For many centuries. Almost as long as The Divide has existed." he said, flicking the match with his thumb. The flame was pulled into the pipe and the sweet smell of it filled the room.
"But that's no worry to you, my son," he said when the pipe was lit, "just press the button and the Dark Lord will be banished once again."
"If it's been going on so long why haven't we stopped it for good?" I asked, still not understanding what was happening.
With one more long exhale, the blue smoke jetting from his lips, the priest set down his pipe and leaned forward in his char.
"That. Is not your concern. Now," he said, pointing to the button, "push it."
So I did. What else could I do? Nothing seemed to happen at first. Just a little *click* when I pressed it. The priest smiled broad now, showing his discolored teeth all the way to the back. He began to gather his robes and stand.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Now?" he asked incredulously, "now you go die."
"I what!?" I screamed, and before I knew it the priest clamped down on my wrists with a strength that shocked me. He held my arms to the chair and looked me right in the eyes.
"This marks the thirteenth sacrifice for the Dark Lord. The prophesy is fulfilled. May his evil majesty wash over this realm, so we become One."
"What the hell is going on?" I yelled, watching as brutish men in blackened iron armor enter the room. They both had a scar running down their face, and short stabbing swords hung from their belts. The priest said something to them in a language I didn't recognize. It was guttural and sounded very difficult to say.
The brutes nodded once and pulled their swords. I didn't know what was waiting for me on the other side. But the twelve boys that met me, filled me with unending sadness as we watched our world fall to the dark. | I don’t know how to write, if someone can actually write this in a good way go right ahead, I just thought it’d be too funny to risk someone not doing.
I press the button and suddenly the ground below me pushes up, launching me into the air at an angle. As I’m flying through the air I pass a dragon with people dressed in robes on it who are waving staffs around and suddenly I’m moving in a different direction at a much faster speed. A few moments later I spot a dark castle with an army marching from it. I’m falling towards what seems to be where the leaders are, and suddenly-*splat*.
Dark Lords view: “How many demons will you have summoned by the time we arrive?” “10,000 my lor-“ *splat* “gah!”
The priest: “The chosen one has defeated the demon lord! Rejoice for the goddess has saved us yet again!” Crowd: *cheers or something idk* | 2020-11-09T11:45:32 | 2020-11-09T11:06:17 | 170 | 117 |
[wp] A man dies and goes to hell only to find out he was supposed to go to heaven...after he already toppled Satan and started a reign of terror the likes of which had never been seen.
Sorry for the rpost the first one was filled with grammatical/spelling errors | Skulls piled high, chains looped through holes made through their white domes to allow them through and to bind them tight together. A mass of white, shaped into the shape and form of a towering throne. The man sat in the throne, he crossed his legs and sat with his back to the furthest of the skulls, a white behemoth with fangs for teeth and a single eye hole in the center of its head. His jaw set, his mouth cut a thin pale line across his face, and his glasses hung crooked off of his nose.
"What do you want?" He said.
The Visitor bowed, kneeling down in the soot and hot ash. His robes billowed out around him, snapping in the wind that blew from the wastes beyond the skulls. "I bring a message," the visitor said.
"From your lord?"
"Yes, I have come from-"
"I know where you're from, speak it and leave." The man gestured to the woman at the base of the throne. Her skin shone with sweat and her chains wrapped from her wrists to her shoulders and her ankles up her muscled thighs. She shivered and stood, pulling herself up the throne to sit beside her master. The visitor watched as she sat beside The man and pulled in tight beside him. And he watched as the mans hands wandered.
"Are you here for a show or to speak?" The mans voice cut The visitor from his reprieve, a shiver ran down The visitors spine.
"Of course, the Lord demands that you deliver unto me a prisoner of your domain."
"What for?"
"He is innocent, and the punishment was meant for another."
"Innocent? No men are innocent." The man made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "You may go."
"That is not your place to say, the Lord demands and you will obey."
"What was his name?"
"His name is Henry Wittaker."
The man laughed, long and thin and fierce. "Prisoner xx07?"
"His name is Henry, he is no prisoner. Not any longer." The visitor clenched his hands into fists in the ash. "Bring him before me, or I will be forced to bring him myself."
"Save your breath, you are right." The man leaned forward in his throne, the woman moaned as she moved away, her hands lingering. The firelight that fell across his face and reflected in his glasses, revealing the burning of his eyes. "Henry Wittaker has not been a prisoner for a long long time."
"I don't understand," The visitor stood, "where is he?"
The man dropped the foot from to the ground and straightened out his suit. He brushed the hot coals from it's sleeves and corrected his tie. "Take me to him." The man said.
"Take you... No. I am here to collect Henry. Bring him to me. Now."
The man walked until his nose nearly brushed The visitors own, The visitor stood his ground though leaned back from The man. The firelight never left The mans eyes.
"They really don't make you any less dense, do they? I am Henry Wittaker, take me to your Lord. I'd like to have a few words with him myself." A low chorus of screams filled the air, carried in on the biting winds. The visitor squinted and looked around him, peering through the swirling mass of ash and hot soot. The voices took up a chant. Fierce and repetitive, a thousand, thousand, thousand voices calling out, overlapping.
"What are they saying?" The visitor turned back to The man.
The man smiled then, his teeth white and his his face cold. Only his eyes showed what was inside, burning. He spoke in a whisper, matching the cries and close enough to be heard. "Conqueror. Conqueror. Conqueror." | "Hello," I was one of God's messengers, pretty new, and not terribly excited when my first delivery outside the Pearly Gates was Hell. But I had plenty means of defense in case things got rough. But that wasn't enough to reassure my quavering voice. "Um, Satan? Ywhw requests that this man be pardoned of his crimes."
The demonic throne turned, and on it sat... just a man. Asian, average height and build with no real distinguishing characteristics about him.
"I'm sorry, Satan's not here. And he probably won't be until the end of time, I, however; am happy to release whoever it is you're looking for."
"Oh, well, thank you. What happened to Lucifer?"
"I took his throne, idiot was making a mess of the place, now come on. I don't have all day."
"Okay, well, his name is Garret Lee."
Suddenly he tensed up, the relaxed nature about him fading very quickly.
"Date of death?"
"12/7/10, 3:00 am CST, killed by his wife while he was asleep."
Then he laughed. "Young man... heh, heh... what is heaven like?"
"It's pretty great, we have a copy of any art ever made or that will ever be made. Mostly I just cuddle and watch Netflix, why?"
"Is it comprable to ruling Hell?"
"Not by a long shot. Up there we have anything you want, anytime you want it. Never get bored of that. Why?"
He laughed again. "Well gentlemen, take care of Hell for me, I'm off to the Pearly Gates!" He jumped off the throne with a quick wave to the demons behind him. Together we vanished, took me a few seconds to figure out what had happened, not going to lie. A few hours later though I appeared before God and told him that I was done with that misson.
"But sir, why did you pardon him? He must be a piece of work if he managed to conquer Hell. Hitler and Napoleon combined didn't have the balls to do that. Was it because of his kindness he could claim such a place?"
"No, one of the wickedest mortals ever devised. But as for why I allowed him back. I'm launching a full-scale invasion of Hell in a week, and how well do you think they'll resist without a leader?" | 2014-10-05T19:07:08 | 2014-10-05T17:46:42 | 161 | 111 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | "Your species is now affected by the Anti-Natalism modifier:
Every 10 points above the average IQ makes it 10% more likely for an individual to refuse to have children and 50% more likely to have children past their primetime (makes it more likely to develop negative status modifiers)."
God closed the pop-up and sighed heavily. "Great, now it will take at least another hundred years, before I can even think about having my first psionic mutants emerge. I probably should have just gone the genetic engineering route, instead of speccing for passives and hope for some random mutations to occur."
God thought back in time. He didn't have much luck with random events. He started with good starting conditions. He had a planet perfectly calibrated for life forms, rich of all kinds of ressources and his custom-created species:
The neanderthals.
He made sure to give them lots of survivability, pain & fear resistance, endurance and strenght. They also had a bit of psionic potential and he hoped that coupled with a high sex-drive, his species would quickly develop psyonic powers, giving it a strong rush potential. He scarificed some points in intelligence for that unusual strategy, but if it worked out Megatron and Loatheb's typical and boring high intelligence build would have nothing against his psionic warriors.
It worked out well, until another stupid random event fucked it all over. A sibling species emerged and instead of eradicating them completly like they were bloody hell supposed to, his neanderthals just enslaved them and kept them as sex slaves.
God almost cried when he saw all the starting advantages slowly disappear over the years of interbreeding. Gone was the fear and pain immunity. Gone was the natural high strenght, which now only can be achieved by years of training coupled with artifical hormones his warrior race were supposed to have naturally.
Psionic potential was extremely limited with a proc chance of only 0.00001% per year to develop a mutation which unlocks it in his species. It was just enough left that people continued the shaman tradition of the neanderthals, but instead of actually having psionic power they only pretend to have them or get insane enough to believe they have them.
But God wasn't one to give up. Megatron and Loatheb left his species mostly in peace, except for the occasional griefing like dropping a few pyramids down here and there and use the stunted psionic receptors to make people hear voices and start cults or become politicans. God just has to play the waiting game, it won't be too long before his species will discover genetic engineering by themselves and he can start showing Megatron and Loatheb's weak, skinny, little green nerds what a real warrior species looks like. After all the potential of their ancestors is still there. | Jesus is doing well, most advanced in science but his public order is barely in the green, Jesus adopts and invests his saved social policies heavily in the the freedom ideology.
The other gods see this a chance to fuck with him
"Budda has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
"Bhrama has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
"Yahwey has chosen to adopt the order ideology"
Even Zeus and Kronos agree for once and chose to adopt the order ideology.
"Fuck!!" Jesus yells, his public order has gone down to -20. But he doesn't want to change it or he will lose half his policy's. Rebellions sprout up and he has to devote all his empires resources to shutting them down. In the meantime the other civs catch up to him in science. Eventually Jesus gives up.
"Jesus has adopted the order ideology"
"Finally it's over" he thought. But in that chaos the other gods used the distraction and moved their armies to his borders. Jesus knows what's about to happen. But he has no troops left from his rebellions. All the other gods declare war on him at once. And his civilization is carved up like a turkey.
"You have lost, your civilization has fallen to its many foes"
Jesus facepalms and says "whatever I'll get them in a few millennia when this game is over" and goes to watch star trek TNG.
| 2016-04-09T07:26:51 | 2016-04-09T05:49:29 | 158 | 20 |
[WP] Whenever someone is born, the first sentence they utter predicts how they die. Lately every kid has been saying the same first sentence. | It was an amusing montage on YouTube at the beginning - 5 little cherubs in a row saying "fuck this shit". But then there were thousands all at once. The next most common was "I've had enough", and then "we're done here".
There was fear all over the world for the cataclysmic event that must surely be on the horizon. Scientists, philosophers, religious and political leaders, all tried to predict what the event might be. A weather event, related to climate change seemed unlikely; as did any other disaster outside human control, like an asteroid or invasion from another world. All of the first words seemed to point to a decision, or a resignation of sorts.
While the leaders of the world debated possible causes, a significant portion of the common people were already looking for a solution. "What does it matter what the cause is?" said a man in an oft-repeated sound byte. As is often the case in human history, while the experts debate the best course of action, there are always some who are ready to provide quick and easy answers.
The most common solution for the masses was to blame the children themselves. The "world enders", the " big quitters", or the "doom-sayers" must be the cause of the catastrophe! As word was getting around of younger children whose first words were all gibberish, it confirmed for many that the generation of Quitters was the cause of the impending apocalypse.
The next stage was the "great cleansing for humanity." The children, by this time around the age of 6, were taken from their parents, sometimes with their parents' consent, and killed, or in some cases merely maimed so that they could not speak. Much of humanity was repulsed by this movement and there was a counter movement for "humanity's soul". If we had to resort to such barbarism so save ourselves, they said, then we did not deserve to live. In the end a compromise was reached. The remaining Doom-sayers would be raised in special camps where their every need would be provided for. The children would want for nothing, but they would be unable to leave their compounds, or receive news of the outside world. In this way, they would be protected from harm, and would never have any reason to quit life. They would be taught only the most positive and encouraging parts of human history, and that the world outside viewed them with love and compassion.
Inevitably, however, some people still felt that if the truth about the world were to be so awful as to doom us, then we deserved what we got. Some information was smuggled into the compounds regarding world events, history, and the nature of the Doomsday Children themselves.
In the outside world. people hoped for the best. But each new child spoke only gibberish as their first words. As the years passed, people grew more and more nervous. Why had the compounds not changed their minds? Where were the new first words? Desperation soon took over once again. A reactionary movement rose up and made a coordinated attack against all the compounds at once. Walls were breached, most of the children were slaughtered, the lies they had been fed laid bare.
Those that remained were gathered together at a secure facility behind impregnable barriers. Elite military units guarded the inhospitable land for miles around. And then it happened: The Others arrived.
Three huge ships appeared in orbit of the planet. "This is it! This is the doom!" cried many. They were not far off. The Others declared that they would see to it that the people of the earth advanced rapidly in technology and social organization. But first, they must be unified in their desires and their support of each other. Each person on the earth over the age of 12 was simultaneously implanted with a device in their chest, containing a single button behind a protective cover. If 50% of the people pressed the button within the same 12 minute period, then the remaining 50% would be vaporized.
Many people began pressing their buttons immediately, and as often as possible. This nearly doomed 50% of humanity, but swift action by the worlds governments put an end to this. Button-pushing was declared a capital offense. Mobs formed and many people who had already pressed theirs were killed. Fear and bloodshed were everywhere for a time, until governments and religious leaders (who suddenly found the end-times less appealing) worked together to convince the populace that the best course of action was to never press the button and to work towards agreement and harmony.
As the alien ships continued to loom silently above, the Age of Harmony began. It was the most peaceful and egalitarian state that humanity as a whole had ever known. Crime was near 0, governments began to coalesce into great unions. It seemed that the aliens' plan was working. And it was. Only not in the way that humanity had hoped.
While governments instituted peace through increased control over every aspect of life, mass movements began to form underground. Mostly they were organized along old religious and political lines, but their goals were all the same. When the moment was right, and they had enough followers, they would all press the button at once. The first of these groups to come to light were smaller cults who had vastly over-estimated their own numbers. They were swiftly executed, but this only left the larger groups with a greater percentage. The group that finally succeeded was an alliance of Christian churches, only narrowly outnumbering the Muslim group. All at once, 50% of the adult population was wiped out.
As a new theocracy began to form, the old schisms inevitably showed themselves. Differences in doctrine and historical rivalries became intolerable. The button was used again, and then again, and again. As the population shrank, the likelihood of achieving a 50% majority increased. Within 4 years, entire continents were empty of people. The aliens helpfully shut down reactors, and prevented environmental disasters, but did nothing to stop the slaughter. As all government collapsed, people began pressing their buttons as often as they could, not knowing which group was prevailing. Most died in their sleep.
All over the world were children without caretakers, other than older children. When finally the Doom-children turned 13, they too were given buttons. At this time, however, the aliens declared that humanity had obviously failed as a civilization, and if 50% of the people pressed the button, then all button-carriers would be vaporized.
The Doom-children gathered outside one day and looked about at the desolate land, and considered their dwindling supplies. They all agreed, and within an instant, all were dust.
One day later, the Others landed. They gathered the remaining children of humanity and told them that they would be a part of a new civilization. They would be given access to all of the Others' technology, and when they were strong enough, if they were worthy, they would be invited to join the Interstellar Union as an independent world. They explained that it was they who had caused the First-word prophesies. It was the first test, which humanity had failed. The second was the buttons, and again they were filled with sorrow at what they saw. Now they would teach them all to speak in their language, which sounded like gibberish to the humans, and how to live in harmony. | Gaius Flavius tucked the small leather pouch full of salt into his toga. He thanked the woman for the herbs she had sold him and made his way across the forum. The noon sun was beating down and he felt that it was time for a refreshing visit to the baths. As he made his way through the crowds a familiar face appeared before him, Lucentius, his servant.
"M'Lord the Lady has gone into labor and sent me to find you." said Lucentius between ragged breaths.
"Lead on then," said Gaius. "A man must be there for the birth of his child."
Gaius and Lucentius returned to the old villa just south of the Palatine Hill, both dripping with sweat. Bright frescoes and terracotta tiles decorated the ancient, and imposing building. A pair of female servants rushed out of the house. They handed Gaius a blue ceramic pitcher of water and led him into the villa.
Screaming and yelling echoed out from one of the Villa's bedrooms. Servants were running to and fro under the direction of an elderly woman wearing the religious regalia of a midwife. Gaius stepped into the room and gripped his wife Octavia's hand.
Gaius stood there for the better part of the day as she endured the brutal realities of labor. He did his best to comfort her as he silently prayed to the gods for her health and safety. With a final push the ordeal came to a close as a baby girl emerged into the world covered in blood and vernix.
A streak of divine light flashed through the eyes of the baby as she uttered a singular word. "Silence." For generations the children of Rome had been cursed to utter their cause of death usually it was disease indicating the child would not survive past infancy, sword and poison were common causes for the children of the rich and powerful. Old age was the dream of every expectant parent, but never before had the word silence passed the lips of a babe.
As the midwife and servant cleaned the baby Gaius slumped into a chair and fiddled with the folds of his toga. After a few minutes he sent for a priestess of Venus exchanging promises of donatives for her presence. An hour later the servant returned alone.
The servant explained that every temple across the city was closed and barring visitors. The house of the Flavians sat in silence that night under the ominous tidings of the day. The next morning Gaius arose at dawn. He greeted his many clients, giving them their daily gifts and questioning them for the news of the day.
The temples of Rome locking their doors was a huge mystery to which no one had an answer. The Pontifex Maximum himself had not been seen since yesterday morning. Towards the end of the line a young man named Quintus made his way into the greeting room of the Villa.
"Good morning Master Gaius. I have heard about the birth of your daughter and I promise you that I shall offer wine to the gods for her good health." said Quintus. "My own Son was born just the day before as well, although I feel the gods of mystery and mayhem have descended upon my home for when the spark of the gods flashed through his eyes he simply said silence."
Gaius stood up from his couch. "What did you say?" he said as he grabbed both of Quintus' shoulders.
"The gods have sought to worry me in my own home because my newborn said he would die of silence."
Gaius' hands gripped harder, Quintus seemed physically and socially uncomfortable. "The gods used your son to speak the word silence?" Asked Gaius as he became temporarily lost in his own thoughts. Coming back to reality a few seconds later he released his grip on Quintus. Gaius relayed how his own daughter had uttered the very same words and asked Quintus to return later in the day to accompany Gaius in seeing an augur.
Augury was a sacred rite luckily it was not performed in the temples and the shrines but in the streets and fields of Rome. Where there are birds there are augurs divining the will of the gods. As the afternoon sun began to give way to the crimson skies of sunset Gaius and Quintus made their way through the labyrinthine streets of Rome.
The temples were still closed but that was no longer the talk of the town. As the pair passed bars and groups they heard snippets of chatter talking about how every baby born in the past day had relayed the same message from the gods, silence. No one knew what it meant.
As the pair wandered the streets searching for an Augur the crimson sky turned blue. A second sun had risen from nowhere cooking the streets. People rushed from their homes. Gaius attempted to pray to the gods but not a sound escaped his lips. As he saw people pour from the various homes and businesses not a sound was heard.
He tried to fight the crowds, to make it home to protect his daughter but he was but a man against the crashing tide of people he yelled for others to make way to no avail. He couldn't make a sound. All was silent.
In an elegantly painted crib in an ancient villa just south of the Palatine Hill a baby girl was visibly crying, but not a single sound could heard. As the child begged for the comfort and relief to whatever ailed her no one came. A blue ray of light streaked through the open window and wrapped her up. She took on the appearance of a divine child wreathed in holy light. She floated into the air as the light visibly increased in intensity. Then without a sound she disappeared. The room returned to its original state as the deafening crash of a million people screaming in horror assaulted the streets of Rome. | 2021-12-23T10:25:25 | 2021-12-23T09:58:10 | 53 | 30 |
[WP] some people can fly. Others can kill with a touch. Still others can bend time and space to their will. You.... can crack your knuckles to get your hands to light up like glowsticks.
EDIT: this idea was already done by u/-C4-, so take your upvotes to [his post](https://www.reddit.com/r/shittysuperpowers/comments/9wzvqt/when_you_crack_your_knuckles_they_start_glowing/?st=JPCY7ETN&sh=ea3ea677) | They can keep their super strength, and their flying...okay, maybe I'd take the flying, but come on! Supers are required to register for the military and serve from their 20s to 40s, but me, I'm just a meta.
We have it easy compared to them, and the pension and presidential treatment don't make up for it if you ask me. Sure they get pampered for the rest of their lives, if they even live long enough to see it, but there are supers on both sides now. You're just as liable to get torn in half as you are to have to use your laser eyes to cut down another person. Yeah, I'm good with my glowing fingers.
Not to mention, these things are money makers! Can you imagine how great my DJing is? My show is in a huge dark room with lights that are programmed to respond to my fingers on the walls, ceiling, and floors. Whenever I crack my knuckles during the show it lights up the dance floor in crazy patterns to match my hands.
I'm a millionaire with a handful of clubs in some of the biggest remaining cities after the super war broke out between the East and the West so don't you worry about me and my lame super power, worry about the state of this super powered world.
Crime is out of control and the military on both sides spends most of their time fighting the gangs run by the most dangerous rogue supers in their own territories, but every now and then there's a huge shake up. The whole thing kicked off when Washington DC was wiped off the map by a Russian super who could apparently replicate the effect of a nuke.
The US retaliated of course and predictably, many bombs were dropped and many supers used their powers leading to all kinds of chaos, destruction, death and carnage. The US, or what was left of it, had been splintered into several territories and each functioned as a collective state more like Europe than a single unified country.
Russia was a smoldering pile of rubble and had only managed to launch a few nukes in retaliation, some of which weren't aimed at the US, along with a few other random bombs flying to and fro random countries. Europe recieved one as did China and suddenly the entire world was thrown violently back a few hundred years and left to pickup the pieces. I use the profits from my clubs to fund restoration efforts in the cities they are in, but we have a long way to go before we even find a new normal, let alone get this shit cleaned up.
Crazy to think that all it took was the simple discovery and activation of that hidden chromosome in the human genome that gave some of us these damned powers. Some people can fly, others can kill with a touch, and still others can bend time and space to their will. I...can crack my knuckles to get my hands to light up like glowsticks, but I've got tell you, it's not all its cracked up to be. | I didn’t realize it at first, but when I was thirteen it happened, I broke my arm, and from every shattered piece of bone there was light. We searched for it, me, my family, the Doctor, what power did I have? Was it super healing, invincibility, control over light?
It was none of the above, and here I was, ten years later, about to fight a guy with super speed and strength. He thought he had me cornered. How wrong he was.
I turned on my earpiece and said, “ Techno, hit the lights.”
The giant fluorescent lights above us turned out, one by one, and as he looked around I wiped the remaining blood off my face from our previous bout, stretched my arms out, and , just as the last light went out, released the warm glow from my hands. I reached in my pockets and threw out many more glow sticks, and, using my own fists for light, began round two.
He couldn’t see me among the scattered lights, and as I walked up behind him, my glow slowly revealed more and more of his exposed back. With one well aimed punch I started my attack. He turned around, faster than any human could, and threw a punch, I had been expecting this, and ducked as quick as I could. The punch went above me.
With my fists matching the glow of the floor, he hadn’t noticed me, one quick uppercut, and the real fight began. | 2018-12-05T20:35:09 | 2018-12-05T19:09:17 | 1,650 | 238 |
[WP] You’re tired of running to your kid’s room every time they scream at night. So you say, “You can just tell the monsters to leave.” Your child thinks, then says “Go home monsters!” From around the bedroom, you’re startled to hear a chorus of “Aww man,” “Fine then,” “Darn!” “What a drag.” | I told my son to just to just tell the monsters to go home. And he did. Immediately the complaining started.
"Awww, come on lady. Do you have any idea how such a short project runtime is going to look on my record."
That came from the corner of the room. The dark shadow in that corner, darker than it should have been, resolved into a humanoid dark figure. It started dragging it's feet towards the half opened closet that I was sure was closed when I tucked my son in bed.
"Yeah, you're killing us here," said a bunch of clothes. The clothes crawled forward and stood up. Below was a another humanoid figure that wore pieces of clothes on it's back not unlike the camouflage suites you see with some military. "People and rationality these days."
"I said it before and I'll say it again", said a green blob also slowly making it's way to the closet. "It's these millennial. They have something the parents a few decades ago didn't have."
Somehow the green blob looked at me with puppy eyes and pleaded: "Can't we stay? *Pleaaaaase.*"
I have no idea what came over me, but I said: "We can talk about it? You guys want coffee?"
All the heads of the little monsters turned to me with an almost audible snap and they started babbling.
"Coffee? Real coffee?"
"It's been ages I had coffee. Kids these days only have soda."
"Oh, that would be so nice."
Some tears of gratitude were shed with the little folk. That's how we ended up with half a dozen half-pints around the kitchen table, all drinking coffee like it was ambrosia. I should have been freaking out but now they looked so normal, not monsterly or anything.
"Look guys, you can't just haunt my son. He needs his sleep. Me too."
"But it's our job. If we don't, we'll be disappeared. Even now, with this short a gig we'll be punished for sure." It was the clothes troll. I later learned he called himself Bob.
"So now you're punishing my son."
"What do you want us to do, lady? Play poker with the kid?" That was the shadow. She was called Janet.
"Why not?" I asked.
A dozen beady eyes just stared at me unblinking in slack jawed faces.
"But the boss..." Frank said, the blob.
"...never has to find out." Janet said.
"Lady, you've got yourself the beginning of a great friendship," Bob said and held out a tiny hand. I shook it.
The next weeks were surreal. I reintroduced the little monsters to my son. They said they wanted to play his board games. It didn't take long before he raced upstairs to go to bed. Afterwards the monsters came downstairs to drink a coffee with me and my husband. They often did some cleaning in the house after we went to bed.
But now the children are in college. And the monsters followed them. They say the monsters are great tutors. I'm happy for them, but I must admit I miss the little buggers. | My son always had a vivid imagination so when he started talking about the monster under his bed I was not fazed at all. So as any dad would do I looked under the bed for purple eyes and jet-black fur. But you can only look under the bed so often. Even after he showed me a hair, jet-black......like his own. Just a tad longer. Probably one of mine, one of the few that are still jet-black.
One day I just couldn't be bothered to look under the bed yet again. So I told my son to properly introduce himself to the monster. Only polite if they are roommates.
It worked like a charm. No more scared nights and requests to check under the bed. I guessed he turned the fantasy into a positive one. Some weeks later I caught my son sneaking a meat sandwich, his favourite, into his room. He said it was for the monster. Uhuh very convenient.
Not that it was all positive. One day a friend of my son left crying. Scared of the monster. I gave my son a talking to that not everyone likes scary stories. He said he was just sad that his friends didn't get along.
Today I opened the door to a punch in the face of a home invader. As I drifted in and out of consciousness there was nothing I could do to stop him moving up the stairs. To purple eyes and a ruffle of jet-black fur. I come back to it to the metallic smell of blood and my son yelling: "dad I told you he is real. I told you."
I am going to need a shovel and a lot of bleach because nobody is ever going to believe this. | 2019-12-17T12:07:00 | 2019-12-17T11:01:33 | 148 | 31 |
[WP] All the alien species in the intergalactic council excelled in one way or another to climb through survival of the fittest. So why are humans, a species with average physique, so hard to deal with? And what the hell is persistence hunting. | Day 32
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It's been 32 cycles. 32 whole cycles, and still the chase continues. We won't last any longer. Half the squad has given up and surrendered, while the other half has been gradually picked out and killed. Commander Ydrevous has ordered me, Captain Xsimoth, to write our final words and warnings. Fellow brethren, and all other alien species that may receive this message, this is our warning. Do not invade the Sol System.
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When we first encountered the humans, it was the opinion of the Galactic Council to classify them as a subservient species. No one could fathom why the humans, with their weak, fragile bodies, could become the prime species on their planet. They lacked shells, tails, claws, anything that would give them an advantage in a fight. But there is a reason why they have risen to the heights they are at now.
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Humans may not have weapons for body parts, but they have one thing more than every other species. That trait is their persistence. Long ago, before humans achieved the technological progress they have today, their hunters would spend weeks chasing down prey. It is this trait that we are warning the galaxy against.
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Persistence hunting. That's what they call it. Every day, they would come at us, attacking from within their concrete and natural jungles. Every attack would cost them multiple casualties, while we lost very few. But the attacks never stopped. Every hour, every minute, there was a possibility of soldiers emerging from every direction, attacks from every angle, traps at every corner. They never gave up, no matter how many losses we inflicted on them, no matter the weapons we pulverized them with. They just kept coming, and coming, and coming.
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And the effect it had on us was terrible. Our men grew discouraged. Many fell ill with stress, unable to withstand the constant pressure. Every attack, every foray had a chance of us losing a brother-in-arm. Eventually our soldiers became tired, weighed down by the effect such unrelenting foes. How could we beat such demons, they told each other, when nothing we do seems to deter or slow them down?
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That is the power of the humans. Not their physical strength, nor their technological or cultural advances, but rather their mental attitude in resisting colonization. Their unrelenting march towards eradicating us. Their persistence, never witnessed before by the galactic community.
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Tomorrow, we will attempt a last foray towards our last known spaceship. If we fail, or we find that it too has been destroyed, then we shall lay down our arms and send each other to the Beyond. Let our bodies, laid out on the rocky soil of Earth, serve as a warning to all species in the Galactic Council.
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Do not offend the humans.
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Check out r/17Stories for more of my work! | It all started with the Dalarians. After defeating the humans in battle, they naturally waited for the humans to surrender as any civilized species would do after being defeated. But the humans applied an insane and illogical philosophy called the "sunk cost fallacy". Instead of surrendering to the Dalarians, the humans stole their tech, massacred their leaders, and launched a crusade against the galaxy.
At first no one believed those fleshy prey animals posed a threat. But now the galaxy was in peril as the humans conquered or destroyed species after species after species.
Early to fall were the Tarvaks. They had evolved to be the deadliest creatures in the galaxy. Hulking armored brutes but quick on their feet and just as quick with their claws and fangs. Destroyed by wave after wave of human warriors. Five human soldiers were lost for every Tarvak but they didn't care.
The Meeleks, famous for their poisonous breath, were destroyed after the human chancellor said "eh it's war and they're doing it, screw the Geneva Convention" and destroyed the Meeleks using a deadly poison that they consume as food! Mustard!
Species after species fell like dominoes. Planets were massacred, fleets destroyed, and the human menace spread across the galaxy like an infectious disease.
I write this history of the Human Wars so future generations can read the loser's perspective. I'm a Booshamite. My people have the fastest ships in the galaxy. We hoped to flee the human demons. But no matter how long or how far we run... They. Keep. Coming. | 2021-02-04T09:02:10 | 2021-02-04T08:52:37 | 846 | 467 |
[WP] Rumor has it that Canadian geese store all of Canada's hatred and anger. Making Canadians the "nice country". Today the last Canadian goose has died. | It was more of a wheeze than a honk that signalled not only the death of the last remaining Canadian goose, but, and this was unbeknownst to all at the time, the last thread connecting Canadian politeness to the mortal realm.
As the veterinarian watched the goose lay down its head slowly, he could’ve sworn he heard a blood curdling scream in the distance. It wasn’t the safest of Vancouver suburbs that his practice was situated in so he assumed it was either teens playing around or perhaps a tv from the apartment next door. Either way, he knew it was likely going to be followed by a polite apology to those the scream had unsettled.
Unknown to him, and the unsuspecting world around him, that was an apology that would never come. In fact, not a single synonym or extrapolation verging on an apology would ever leave the lips of a Canadian again.
Admittedly it was never known that there was any semblance of linkage between the population of Canadian Geese and the underlying politeness of Canadians. However, when the last goose died, it became all too real and all too known that such was the case. It was like something out of a low-budget zombie uprising really; swarms of Canadians spilling over the border into the United States, refusing to follow proper protocol and oblige any form of paperwork, fuelled by nothing more than syrup, hockey bloodlust and a repressed anger fettered for over two hundred years.
Across the world reports of Canadian expats refusing to apologise, rudely pushing into queues ahead of their turn and laughing at others’ misfortune took over the news channels and websites.
They hadn’t completely lost their humanity, but they had lost the last shred of what separates them from their polar opposites. Without politeness, without restraint, that final honk had turned them into ... Americans.
••••••
Trust me, my writing is way better than how I’m currently asking you to check out my other writing prompt replies at r/VerboseBuffalo
Read and (hopefully) enjoy, always open for feedback! | # PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
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Marshall Law is now in effect and there is a Dusk till Dawn curfew in effect till further notice.
All Canadian born Americans must report to respective refugee camps before **DAWN** of 12/15/2019.
All violators will be detained by military personnel that are present till they may be transported to Guantanamo Bay for "questioning".
All resistance will be met with lethal force.
Any Person or Persons found helping any Canadian Americans will be held as a terrorist and "questioned" by military personal for locations of other sympathizers and Canadian Americans.
For more information call: 1800 328 7448 ext: 263343 | 2019-12-14T18:22:22 | 2019-12-14T14:01:43 | 74 | 11 |
[WP] The Necromancer escaped his pursuers by slipping into our world through an interplanar door. He stepped through and appeared into the closed Natural History Museum. As the Witchhunters clambor after him, he begins to laugh. He's in the dinosaur section. | The necromancer looked around the cathedral like room. Multiple levels lined the outside of a center space with the skeleton of a giant creature he had not seen the likes of. However death was his domain. A skeleton is a skeleton after all. He smiled at himself and faced the beast, readying the incantation to bring it to life.
"HEY!"
The necromancer flinched, momentarily startled but otherwise unafraid of this lesser being in the new world. He turned slowly.
"May I help you mortal?" He said to the security guard standing at the base of the staircase leading to the upper levels. The necromancer blinked. Was that a monkey on the guard's shoulder?
"The names Larry, and uh ya. I think the sun is close to rising. You should probably get back to your exibit. I don't feel like being yelled at again for missing pieces from... Which one are you in again?"
The necromancer was puzzled. This lowly being, this Larry, truly thought he had any say over what he did? The fool would learn soon enough.
"You know not the powers you are trifling with." The Lord of death said. "I will educate you."
He raised his hands toward the fierce creature before him, swaying slightly as he chanted the spell so familiar to him. He opened his eyes. The beast remained motionless.
"Actually, I don't think I've seen you before" Larry said. The monkey cocked it's head to the side staring at the necromancer. "It doesn't look like Dexter has seen you before either".
"Insolent fool!" cried the necromancer. "You dare to address me as an equal? I'll take care of you the old fashioned way before those pesky hunters catch up!" The necromancer drew a curved blade from his robes. As he began to walk toward the guard Larry smiled.
"You clearly don't know about this particular museum or the tablet's affects on the exibits. A little help please?"
The necromancer stopped as a loud groaning sound escaped the creature behind him. He slowly turned to find the beast had left it's pedestal and was standing over him. But something was off. Was it... Wagging it's tail?
"How?" was all the necromancer was able to get out before the beast lifted him off the ground.
"Good boy Rex! Let's get him tied up so whoever comes looking for him doesn't have too much trouble. Then it's back to sleep before the sun rises. You too Dex." The monkey chirped in acknowledgement.
"You possess the power of death? HOW?" The necromancer demanded.
"Ahkmenrah. It's a long story." | Jason took landed flat on his face. The portal closed behind him. As he stood up his legs trembled. Not from fear but, pure joy. In front of him stood a collection of beasts practically waiting to be ressurected. Jason didn't know where the strange portal taken him, but he knew fortune was smiling down on his cause. As the loud footsteps started getting closer Jason immediatly began the ritual. His chanting omnious as ever and his eyes as green as emeralds. A thick black fog circled around the beasts and within seconds life had filled the void of death. Jason had made himself an army. The portal started to open again. Out of it came pouring the Paladins "Give it up you're outnumbered!". Jason began to laugh his voice filling the entire room "You boys should really be careful who you order round. The ground began to rumble and out came the beasts attacking the Paladins from all sides. The Paladins tried to fight back but their battle cry soon became screams of agony. All they had managed to do was make their bodies available for ressurection. Jason hopped on the back of beast with 3 horns and rode out of the strange building as he rode off he saw a sign "Dinosaur Exhibit". | 2019-05-09T05:57:11 | 2019-05-09T04:59:16 | 45 | 23 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | So you're in line getting tacos, right, like you do every Friday for lunch. It's a beautiful day, the sun is out, not a cloud in the sky. Seventy-five degrees, light breeze, absolute perfection. You order *dos de pollo* in your shitty Spanglish, hand the man three bucks through the dingy frosted window, and pause a moment to breath deep -- that salty, burnt, fatty goodness that smells like angels fuck -- that sulfurous, rotten-egg -- wait, what?
This shit again.
So then you're standing in a circle, alone, with your tool belt, your hard hat, your cell phone, a tamarind soda and absolutely no fucking tacos de pollo with onions and crema. Fuck. This. Shit. You resolve for the umpteenth time to be less good at your job.
*Remember your protocol.*
"Oh, gracious master," you bow, making obeisance before the thin-lipped, bearded asshole standing in front of the circle and the book and the candles looking inordinately pleased with himself. "How may I be of service, most gracious one?"
Sniff sniff. Putrid, acrid. Tallow, not beeswax. A fucking newbie, or worse, a goddamn cheapskate.
**"I am thy master now, demon!"**, thin-lipped shit booms. **"Thou art ensorcled by the hand of Dextrogast the Mighty! First of his name and first among the Leaden Ring!"** Newbie. Fine, whatever.
You remove your hard hat and straighten up. They like it when you remove the hat. Your arms, wide.
*Just roll with the punches, it will all be over soon.*
"I grovel before your magnificence, good Might. To what end my I pledge my service to the ends of the Leaden Ring?"
**"Thou hast been chosen, demon, for a task of great import, one uniquely suited to thy devilry! Thy master the Mighty hath scoured long the Books of Perdition and at last deciphered thy name! I bind thee to my will, Michael Thompson of Airmax Technologies, Rochester, New York, 14623!"**
When will they stop printing the Yellow Pages?
*Just say the words, do the thing. Faster. You might be able to break the bonds of a weaker sorcerer, sure. But if they can bring you in, they can send you back just as easy. Better that way. Let them do the driving. Pay it forward. Go home happy.*
"My will is yours, good Might, your wish my desire with utmost certainty. Pray tell the nature of your need."
Thin-lipped shitfuck draws himself up to his full height, chest swollen with pride. Wonder if you're his first. **"This Infernal Machine was created for my grandsire by thy demon-kin. Its power wavers. Fix it for me, or ne'er be free!"** He's pointing... at a... refrigerator?
Sigh.
*Even wizards make mistakes.*
"Oh, good Might," a deeper bow. "But in this I am unworthy to be your servant."
**"Does thou defy me, demon! My wroth is great and my punishment most -- most severe!"**
"It's just -- you see, good Might, I'm an air conditioner technician. That's a refrigerator. I mean, I can take a look at the wiring diagram and troubleshoot it if the problem is electrical, but if it's mechanical or the coolant you're going to need an actual fridge repair guy with the right stuff to recharge."
Thin-lips falters. **"So... so what am I to do with The Infernal Machine?"**
Sigh. The smoke from the animal-fat candles is burning your nose. "Let me see the pho-- the Book of Perdition you summoned me from." A suspicious look. "I swear upon my name not to leave or break the circle until I have shown you the name of a demon who can fix your Machine."
Gingerly he hands over the book. Flip flip flip. Refrigerator repair. "Do you have a pen?" Blank stare. "Um... charcoal stick? A quill?"
He seems to understand and hands over a well-sharpened number 2 pencil. You circle the name and number of a fridge tech.
"Great. Okay, just summon this guy next time your Infernal Machine needs work. And make sure to do the full summon between 8am and 4pm local time so that you can get all of his equipment in too. He might need some of the big stuff." You offer the book back to the sorcerer.
*Pay it forward.*
"Oh, and try not to summon between 12 and 1 pm local time, okay? I don't know what time zone you're in, and I know the cross-dimensional conversion is kind of hard, but no one likes being summoned on their lunch break."
He takes the book silently, glaring suspiciously.
"Also, uh... this line work is a little shoddy. See the edges of the pentagram bleeding a bit here? I really wouldn't have any difficulty at all breaking out of this summoning, even if I didn't know what I was doing. And a newbie demon getting out of the circle is the last thing you want. Try to keep the lines as clean as possible."
**"Thou came well-recommended, I see, for good reason, demon. You have the thanks of Dextrogast the Mighty."**
"And use beeswax next time, that smell is awful. Are you fully satisfied with your summoning, good Might?"
**"It shall suffice."**
A blink and a stink, and you're back in the real world, the rotten-eggs-stench lingering. Wonder how long that fridge had been out.
In the distance the taco truck rolls out of the parking lot, kicking up dust as it goes.
Typical wizard shit. | Jason dropped the carboard box onto the one he had set down prior, and stepped back. He held his lower back and arched. Fuck, this retail stocking shit is not fun. Time for a break. He walked over to the door, reached in his shirt pocket and grabbed for his smokes. Opening the door, he stepped through into brilliant sunlight.
What the fuck? This is night shift. He blinked and held his hand to his brow to shade his eyes.
In an instant he could see that he was not in the back parking lot of the Northland Mall. He was standing on a giant slab of stone, and the smell of salt was in the air. He turned to where the door he had just passed through should have been and there was met with the gaze of a fat nude woman with red hair.
Jason squared up towards her and looked her over. What. The. Fuck. A wave of panic washed over him, and the woman began to move to his left chanting in a language that he did not understand while moving her fleshy arms in circles. That's when he noticed the others in the darkness.
Behind the fat woman was a crowd. Several dozen people. There were men and women, all dressed in shabby clothing that was dirty. Jason noticed one woman near the front holding an infant in her arms. She stared directly at him, her eyes cold and flat. It was then that Jason noticed the baby's limb dangling limply and he knew that something was not right.
The redheaded woman continued to circle Jason, her gesticulations becoming wilder and her voice rising. Jason shouted back to her. Fuck you! What the fuck is this!? He tried to approach her and his legs felt like iron. Each step felt as if he was pulling a tree's roots from the earth, and when it fell flat against the stone he felt a stabbing pain radiate upward through his leg.
What is this? He shouted again. Just then a man stepped forth from the crowd. He pointed at the redheaded woman and yelled. He pointed at Jason and then back to the crowd, all the time speaking a strange tongue Jason had never encountered before.
The woman stood looking at Jason, and extended her palm toward him. She stared at Jason, and then turned to speak to the man, keeping her hand directed towards Jason. Jason looked from one to the other, and began to feel his knees buckle. His head was growing light, and he was feeling wobbly. What now?
Falling to his knees, he put his hands down and the stone felt like fire against his flesh. He yelled out in anguish. The man's voice rose, and several others stepped forward from the crowd behind him, all facing the redheaded woman. One man was carrying a child, obviously dead, it's lifeless corpse held tenderly in his arms. He pointed a finger at the nude woman, and then towards Jason.
The redheaded woman stared intently at Jason. He attempted to lift his hands to crawl, but it felt like his hands had become part of the stone, like he was being pulled into it. What is this? What is happening? He looked all around him and saw that the crowd was in a circle around him and they were moving towards the woman, who kept her gaze on Jason. She began to speak, and turned her head toward the advancing mob. Three people in the front of the line dropped to the turf, dead in their tracks. She kept her hand pointed toward Jason, and began to motion with the other above her head.
A light formed over Jason, and he looked up to meet it. Suddenly it felt like rain falling on his face, and the brilliance overwhelmed him.
"Jason, hey Jason ..." The voice was familiar. It was Stan. "Hey man, you OK?"
Jason blinked and looked up. Stan, the heavyset night security guard was standing on his hoverround with his flashlight on Jason's eyes. "What ... where ..."
"Dude, are you OK?"
Jason felt the cool pavement beneath his hand and clamored to his feet. His knees felt uneasy. His head throbbed, and on the ground in front of him was a cigarette. "Yeah, I, uh, I don't know what happened ..."
"OK, bro, I don't know what you're smoking and I don't really care, but just be careful out here. I heard some dudes from West Haven jumped a guy last week." Stan looked him over once more before turning around on the hoverround and zipping across the parking lot.
Jason watched him, Stan's red pony tail poking out from underneath his black baseball cap. Man, fuck night shift. | 2017-05-12T08:58:50 | 2017-05-12T08:33:39 | 1,714 | 44 |
[WP] Humanity is the result of Gods science fair project. He just received an F. | "What in the name of...? Why are they all killing each other?!"
God shrugged. "You got me. I figured it was land disputes at first, but it turns out they just kind of do it from time to time."
Mrs. Evans stared down at God. He had potential, but he hardly ever tried in class and she heard he spent all of his spare time creating galaxies only to ignore them once he grew bored. This was no exception. Clearly this experiment began long before the science fair was announced, and he didn't want to actually *do* anything, so he just brought an old planet from home hoping to pass it off as a sociological experiment. There was even still dust on parts of the globe, which he claimed to be deserts. "You could have stepped in at any point and stopped them. Why didn't you?"
Another shrug. Shrugging seemed to be most of what God felt like doing at the moment. "I wanted to see what they'd do if left to their own devices. As it turns out, what they wanted to do was multiply. Like *crazy* amounts of multiplying. You wouldn't even believe. Then they divided themselves into groups and started marking their territory."
"God, why did you enter this into the science fair? And don't tell me it was a sociological experiment."
God sighed. "You want the truth? I had this whole thing planned where I was going to bring you a complete, self governing universe. Humans were just gonna be a part of that."
"Oh God, you know that self governing universes don't work. They're unsustainable."
"I really thought I had it, Mrs. Evans. There was interstellar travel, there were trade federations and interspecies alliances and stuff like that. It was great."
"Well, what happened?"
"...humans started killing everything else."
"Why do you keep putting them into these things?!"
"I guess I just have a soft spot for them."
Mrs. Evans pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn't show favoritism, but at least he was making an effort. "You know I'm going to have to fail you on this, right?"
God nodded sadly.
"But...what say you try your original project again. You bring it in to me, and if I like it, I'll reconsider the grade. Sound good?"
God's mood brightened. Mrs. Evans barely even managed to finish speaking before he bolted for the door. "And no humans this time!"
edit: grammar | "You gave them free will? Why?"
"Well, I thought it would be cooler that way..."
"Yahweh, this is your first attempt, free will is hard to work with. And if you were going for that, why did you intervene so much?"
"It's not my fault sir! The first time, one of my other projects got in and I had to move them to a different part of the habitat."
"What about when you flooded them?"
"Well there was stuff in there, I didn't want to touch it! I had to get it out somehow!"
"Yahweh, sin is something that happens when you give them free will, if you aren't vigilant buildups like that will happen."
"Well I know that NOW"
"And what were you thinking mixing up the languages?"
"They were trying to get out, I had to slow them down so I could expand it up"
"Yahweh, this is a valuable lesson in how flexible children are in creating new problems for themselves." | 2015-03-02T13:33:08 | 2015-03-02T12:58:10 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] you are a demon call responder. The devil can’t answer every summon, so you go in his place. One day you get a summon and the summoner is way below age limit; you are about to leave, but you hear her drunk dad coming downstairs screaming. | I appeared in a dark basement with a suprised little kid staring up at me. I thought it odd for a child to be dabbling in dark arts but not unheard of. While I surveyed the area my thoughts were interrupted by a sad little voice.
"I did it wrong...you're not...I mean... Oh no I did it wrong!" The girl's suprise had turned to disappoint and then fear as she looked me up and down. She had tried to call Satan but as a tall curvy succubus I was very clearly not him. It also probably did not help that I appear mostly human, my skin has a vague red tint, my head sports horns, and a slim tail extends from my back but overall I look like a woman.
" It didn't work and now I'll be in even more trouble!" The child cried.
"Don't cry." I said in as soothing a tone as my hollow demonic voice could muster. "Your spell was successful. But the devil is a busy man, sometimes others must come in his stead. But child you are far too young to make a deal with the Devil, be grateful I was summoned here and not some other with a hunger for young blood." By this time the child was sobbing, she clearly didn't care for my explanation.
"No no no!" The girl cried shaking her head "No you're just some lady! I need the devil! I need a demon! I need someone strong!"
I crossed my arms looking down at the sobbing girl. Now I wasn't just suprised by her summon I was moderately insulted. The girl couldn't have been older than 8 yet she thought I was weak? "You need someone strong? What does a babe like you know about strength? Let alone a need for it?"
The girl was about to respond when a crash and a holler from upstairs interrupted us. The girl's eyes snapped to the closed basement door and her body tensed. I looked her over and noticed her limbs trembled with every foot step above us. The man upstairs was screaming, slurring, and it sound like he was throwing things around.
I focused my hearing on the floor above us. The man above was drunk, his words were slurred and drawn out "Where da fuck is that little brat?" He shouted "Stupid worthless girl left her shit in the...the hall! Stupid junk in my way! She needs to learn to keep out of my way!" He was raging, the hate in his voice was as thick as the alcohol. Another voice crept into the conversation. This voice was timid, frightened but trying to be brave.
"Honey please she's just a kid, she didn't mean any harm." Before the woman could say more the man was screaming again and the heavy footsteps stormed across the room. There was shuffling and shouting and the sounds of things crashing to the ground and crying.
I turned my attention back to the child. For the first time I took note of the bruises old and new that decorated he arms band legs, I took note of the heavy smell of fear radiating from her.
"Your parents?" I asked and the girl nodded, never taking her eyes from the door.
I looked back upstairs and I could hear the sound of fists landing on flesh and the woman crying. The man's screams we're near impossible to understand and the woman was begging, but not begging him to stop hittimg her, begging him to leave their daughter alone. She was crying that it was her fault. Crying that she had called the girl to help her make dinner and that's why the toys were left on the floor. Doing anything she could think of to keep the man's focus on herself.
"I'm sorry." I said moving over to kneel beside the girl. "You know a lot about strength. And you have a need for it." I turned the girls face to meet mine. I released my heavy monstrous wings from my back, let hell fire blaze in my eyes, and held a clawed hand out to her. She trembled seeing for the first time what I really was. She was too young to enter into a pact with the devil. She was too young to know what offering her soul to us would mean. But she was not too young to know that her father needed to be stopped. "My name is Lilith. I will answer your call, I will give you my strength." As the girl nodded eagerly the sounds of begging and fighting stopped and the drunken footsteps came toward the stairs. The girl shook my hand and the deal was made.
The girl ran to hide in a corner as the door slammed open and her dad screamed for her. As light flooded the basement I stretched up to my full height and met his gaze. His eyes were glossy and his face contorted. "Who the fuck are you?" He slurred pausing on the stairs. "Where's that little bitch?"
I smiled and extended my hand to him. His angery face melted to smiles, men were easy to manipulate but drunks were even easier. As the man turned into a giggling infatuated mess stumbling eagerly toward the vision before him I turned to grin at the girl watching from the corner. " You are lucky I was summoned here, and not someone with a taste for young blood." As the man fell into my arms I let out a demon screach and devoured him. No ecstasy no pleasure for this man, I consumed him dragging is soul from his body and letting the flames of hell burn him from the inside out. He wriggled and gasped in my grasp before going limp. I dropped him in a heap on the floor, his body a lifeless shell. I wiped my lips, it had been a long time since I had drained an entire soul and this one was not exactly pure or delicious. Never the less I felt very satisfied. I heard the girls mother stir upstairs, I was glad to hear she was not injured too much to move.
"It is done." I tell the girl huddled in the corner. I kicked the body at my feet "He paid the fee for you." I grinned stepping to the side. "If anybody asks I was never here, he tripped coming down the stairs and didn't get back up. Now go check on your mother." Before I finished speaking the girl sprinted up the stairs to her mother. I heard more crying and hugging and the girl explaining that Daddy fell.
Good girl, I thought before disappearing from the basemen. | "Szalarial, Lord of Bones, Collector, King of Misfortune, I call on you. Szalarial, Emperor of the Forsaken, I invoke your name. Szalarial, the Great Calamity, in the name of the Wandering King I offer a pact." The young boy dragged the ceremonial dagger across his palm, squeezing precious crimson into the chalice before him. Szalarial became aware of the ceremony the moment his name was uttered. From his throne in the Abyss, he listened to the chant repeat. He heard the dagger scrape flesh, catch, and slide through wet, hot, blood. With mild interest, Szalarial noted that none had invoked his final and most terrible title in nearly sixty years. Not since...
​
The child had offered his pact in the name of the Wandering King. Had he no shame? No decency remaining? Szalarial's eyes snapped open as he rose from his throne and allowed the ritual to draw him in. He felt the tremors in the air surrounding him as his vision swirled and the majesty of his chambers was erased. He found himself standing - towering, really - over a boy no older than seven turns of the Great Wheel. They stood in a wood and dirt cellar filled with broken pottery, spoiling produce, and countless empty bottles. A single candle lit the small room from its resting place at the makeshift altar the boy had erected. Before the child had time to notice him, Szalarial willed his form to shift to that of a human.
​
The change was instant, but for Szalarial, he felt every part of him knotting, shifting, and reshaping. His six fiery eyes fused into two, changing at the same time to a dull silver glow as his goat-like pupils compressed and rounded. His wings folded inward upon themselves dozens of times until they rested tightly against his shoulders before dissolving into his body. As they shrank, he noticed with disdain as his preternatural sense of the surrounding area faded. Without his wings he could no longer sense the movement of air as keenly. He could no longer detect any would be attackers. Or prey. No matter. The ritual had been completed and first lines of the contract were already forming in the air around him and the boy. Nothing could have interrupted these proceedings even if they so desired. Finally, he saw the room grow before him as his perspective shifted lower to the ground. His true form's nine foot long body shriveled to a mere six. He drew in a breath.
​
"I am Szalarial. Master of Below, Champion of Torment, Keeper of the Secret Lie, and all the titles you have given me before," he boomed. The wooden supports creaked at the sound of his voice and dirt was shaken loose from the hard-packed walls. "My titles, like my power, are countless. You may call me Lord Szalarial."
​
The child's eyes rose from the bowl upward to meet Szalarial's before quickly returning to the ground. He prostrated himself before Szalarial. "Great Lord Szalarial. In the name of the Wandering King I-"
​
"Yes, yes. You offer a pact." Szalarial consciously lowered his voice, lest he bring the roof down on top of his would-be acolyte. "I can see his influence from merely looking at you. The Wandering King has offered you this ritual. I wonder. Did he extract a price for this knowledge or offer it freely?" Szalarial turned his left hand, palm facing upward, and lifted it in the air, bidding the boy to rise.
​
"It was freely given, Lord." The boy rose and looked Szalarial in the eyes. "He said that all I owed to him was paid in the summoning and that all I owe to you will be paid in the proceedings. Begging your pardon, Great Lord Szalarial, but what are proceedings?" The boy did not tremble with fear. He did not avert his gaze. He did not understand, then. He did not understand the terrible cost. But, the ritual had been completed. The contract weighed heavily on them both and could not simply be dissolved.
​
"Our conversation, boy. This conversation will be the pro-"
​
"Eos," he interrupted. He *interrupted!* "My name is Eos, Lord Szalarial."
​
​
\---------------------------------
​
It's my anniversary tonight, but this prompt grabbed me! I have much, much more to share after we get back from dinner! I hope you all enjoy this enough to come back in 8 hours or so for more. | 2018-10-08T14:45:27 | 2018-10-08T12:57:35 | 48 | 21 |
[WP] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin. | A friend of mine had been DMing a 5.0 game for a month now. Normally, she is able to talk down fun ruiners but this one is especially stubborn.
Enter Malgor, the Level 6 Paladin Oathbreaker Orc: This person is a very stubborn, immovable Chaotic Stupid that kills any NPC he finds (including plot NPCs) in the name of his demon lord, though everyone knew he was just a murderhobo.
This is where I come in. The party and the DM knows me, and previously I had been kicked out of the group for picking fights with other player characters because they disagreed with my own. In an act of desperation, she called upon me to get rid of Malgor.
Enter Tariel, the Level 2 Thief/Level 4 Way of Shadow Monk Wood Elf: This character was built to resemble the 3.5e prestige class "Shadowdancer" (if you've played that, you know what this poor Orc is gonna have coming for him), and this character was blind and had Blindsight as a result. A Chaotic Good that believes evil should be destroyed swiftly and mercilessly.
The group was a one-and-done for me, when the deed was done I would find a way to get out of the party lest I cause more harm than he did.
When I entered the room, the whole room seemed to stare for a second except for two people: the DM and the Paladin. Everyone in the room had played with me before except for the Paladin in question, who seemed to be pondering over something with a mischievous smile barely hidden on his face.
I approached the table and was passed the character sheet, and the worrisome expressions of the table changed to almost joy. I had killed half the people at the table using this character at least once, and they quickly figured out it was not coincidence I brought this one out at this time.
I joined the party shortly after the game began. Tariel claimed he was pursuing a bounty placed upon a criminal seen around this area and the party welcomed him as they were tracking a criminal as well. In return for aiding the hunt, he would share the bounty among the group.
The party had ended up tracking this criminal and brought his head to the guard captain to claim. After getting our gold, the Orc cut down the guardsman. Tariel asked why, and he said his demon lord wanted a soul. Needless to say, this pissed Tariel right the fuck off. What proceeded was that Orc's worst nightmare.
Tariel was a Shadow Monk, and he had access to the Darkness spell. Additionally, he had Blindsight so he could "see" in this magical Darkness that not even Darkvision could penetrate. Tariel used guerilla tactics to fight, dancing in and out with his shortsword as the Orc swung blindly around him, using Flurry Of Blows to end the combat quicker. When the Darkness was finished, the Orc was a corpse on the floor and Tariel nowhere to be seen.
Back in reality, needless to say the Orc player was pissed and began yelling at me, shouting about how he was trying to do something important and giving me constant insults. He was about to remake a very similar character when the DM called the night. I warned the player I would be back if he tried the same thing again. The DM tells me he never showed up after that.
Author's Note: This is my first prompt, so if I made any mistakes or it wasn't good in general let me know in case I wish to try again in the future. | Josh usually wasn’t the fun killer, but ever since the dm has started this run the group had been at odds with Josh’s Lawful Good Paladin. Everyone wanted to run a neutral or light evil alignment, except Josh who feeling left out decided he would try to ruin everyone else’s fun.
Josh, Anthony, and Becca had always been into extreme role praying much to the delight of the dm Tucker. Most of their games were super in-depth and catered more to the role playing aspect than the actual fighting. This game on the other hand had become the most grueling slog according to all except Josh who was having a great time constantly detailing the plot to go help some side NPC the dm hadn’t planned for or stopping the group from getting the precious money money.
Today was the day I’d show up to fill in for Becca because she had some dentist appointment or something. I was more of a gamer than table top I really liked seeing my character more than imagining them, but today was special Tucker basically begged me to help out his “little problem”. I get my character sheet a level 6 chaotic evil Warlock with the lovecraft pact.
We begin adventuring through some dark abyssal cavern only to be met with light resistance. A few beast here and there. We come across this massive creature a fusion of the flesh and bones from innumerable beasts and humans alike now a fountain of darkness with black pus oozing from every orifice obviously a boss creature intended for the whole team, but this is where my plan begins.
Using my beast speech I calm the creature down and explain who I am. With the beast calm I use my bewitching whisper spell (usually a level 7 spell but our dm tweaked the rules a bit) to control the beast and compel it to attack only the paladin who had been resting back at camp from the earlier skirmishes.
The beast charged into the camp attacking the paladin while unprepared a few bad roles later and the paladin was dead ripped in half by the monstrous beast. My job was done and Josh decided to get a new character more eviler character. | 2019-01-21T20:40:35 | 2019-01-21T19:07:19 | 183 | 40 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | First time writing - this one just inspired me!
I open my eyes. There are no lights on, and the sky outside is midnight blue. I check my watch - it's fancy, nicer than my last one - but it seems to be broken. I listen out for my wife, Amy, but I can't hear anything. She must be out. The apartment is almost sepulchral in its silence as I head into the darkened living room.
Amy is standing in the middle of the living room, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry," she sobs. "I really am. But you must see how hard this has been for me. I'm begging you, Wes, just try it. For me. For us."
She turns away, the light from the kitchen window making her hair shine a brilliant shade of auburn. When she speaks, her voice cracks with anger.
"Fine. Don't try it. It's your life. But I wish I could make you see how selfish you're being."
Some time later, I find myself pushing open the door to my bedroom to find my best friend fucking my wife in our bed. I feel numb inside as he gathers his things and leaves as fast as he can, with a muttered "Sorry".
"Amy-" I say, but she pushes past me, sobbing. I follow her into the living room.
Sighing, I take off my old watch, setting it down on the living room table, and wrap the device around my wrist. It looks similar, but a lot fancier and shinier. I look up, and Amy smiles at me through tear-stained eyes.
"So far, so good," she says, and puts her arms around my neck. "Maybe now we can be happy together."
Amy comes into the kitchen. "It's for you," she says, handing me the package. There's a note attached.
"It's from Dr. Sandowski," I say. "Apparently it's a device she's been working on that could cure my time-jumping." I open the box and look down at it with dismay. It's the watch. The nice, shiny watch that I've seen before. "It won't work," I say, setting the box down. "It's no use."
| I think I should expand my vocabulary if I want to make rhymes. Also, don't hate me please.
.
His phone emitted a flash. In his heart there wasn't even a interest clash of whether he should or shouldn't.
There he stood, proud as ever. She was surprised, however. She thought he wasn't being clever. Under his breath he vowed to remember this for ever.
Her smile could definitely be called mean. Not every day can something like this be seen. It's very far from clean. Closer to her, he intends to lean.
Once close to what's to him second dear. He whispers in her ear: "Thank you for supporting me."
She got mad and hit his left bowel. For him nothing could be more well. One huge yesterday's Taco Bell.
| 2017-08-30T05:52:15 | 2017-08-30T04:55:59 | 617 | 35 |
[WP] You are reincarnated as a voice within a schizophrenic's head. | "Pst, hey you, scatter-brain, got a few questions for you." Are people still saying Pst ? I suppose it doesn't matter, given I'm not technically a person anymore, as far as I can tell. Not to get too extistenial on you, but I appeared to be simply, a consciousness. It's an altogether unsettling feeling to not be able to perceive yourself as anything more than a disembodied voice. Point being, forgive me for the Pst usage.
"No, no, no, no, no. You aren't real, Dr. Gaberman says you aren't real and that I shouldn't even acknowledge you."
Dr. Gaberman, and I'm being accused of not being real, be more of a cliche.
"Look, kid, I'm not trying to upset you here, but it would appear that we are stuck with each other. Just trying to get a bit of a dialogue going. Seems like the healthy way to build a relationship, right ? Surely Gabe would approve."
"Wait, you're not like the others. Are you from another planet ?"
"Ease up on the cliches there, cowboy. My name is Saul, and up until very recently I was most definitely a person. Although I'm having a bit of an identity crisis at the moment mate, I'll be honest. I'm not entirely sure I, well, exist. But where are my manners, and your name is ?"
"Dean, my name is Dean. I don't understand, you're a person ? This isn't right at all, no, no, no, no, no."
I had to admit, he was on to something. Things did not feel exactly right, I had a distinct feeling that I wasn't supposed to know what I knew. But I knew it, so sue me; might as well roll with the punches.
"Enough with the Rainman stuff, Dean, I'm not Dr. Gaberhouse, but i don't think it's advisable to bang your head like that either."
It would appear that I was aware, in a somewhat abstract way, of this Dean kid. Just to clarify, he wasn't speaking out loud. I mean, why would you address the voice in your head out loud ? This isn't a movie.
"Gaberman, Dr. Gaberman. He says that you aren't real."
"Bit rude of him, he doesn't know anything about me."
"Not you, you, you as in the all of, you, you. I hear voices in my head, but that's not normal and the voices aren't real."
"Well, real is relative at this stage. I don't mean to alarm you, but I have a distinct feeling that I'm dead. But why do I end up banging around in your noggin. Do you know a Saul Tefler ?"
I could use my new perception of Dean super-power to sense that he was beginning to become agitated.
"I don't know you and you aren't real. I'm late for my appointment. Dr. Gaberman always worries when I'm late."
This is where it gets weird. It would appear that I was merely a passenger in our charming protagonist's mind. As he was presumably in transit, he seemed to be focusing very hard on other things. I wouldn't say I disappeared, but the line went a bit fuzzy.
Finally, my ride took me to the famous Dr. Gabelstein. All of a sudden, lights, camera, action.
"It's Gaberman !" This time he did say it out loud, genius this kid, picks in front of the shrink to start verbalising.
"That's right, Dean, it's me. But I'm your friend, remember, your **real** friend. Listen, Dean, I have something very serious to discuss with you, I really need you to concentrate for a minute, please. Do you remember the accident ?"
"I... No, what accident ? Why do you keep bringing up an accident. I have voices in my head, fix me !"
"Calm down please, Dean. Sit, relax. I need you to pretend that you remember the accident, because there is some very serious news I need to discuss with you. The other man, the one in the coma, his family decided to turn off his life support today. The other man in the accident, you remember now ?"
One of us certainly did, well shit... | ***Wake up Jimmy***
I said in a soft and whispery voice.
***Wake up Jimmy, it's just 6AM***
*NO, NO, NO, this is not happening, I'm not hearing another voice!!!*
***Oh, yes you are, I'm here, inside your mind. Did you think this moment would never happen? Did you think you are not insane?***
*But, but, but I'm not and I know this voice is not real, I'm dreaming.*
As Jimmy slaps his face trying to wake and opening his eyes, sitting on bed. He is wearing a white shirt with a white jeans, while he looks around he can see several other beds with people wearing the same clothing as he is.
*What is this place? Where am I?*
*Good morning Jimmy, woke up early today!* Said Doc. Brown with a smile on his face and a very calm and soft voice.
*How do you know my name? Where am I?*
*Jane, I think it's happening again. Call Doc. Stephen here*
*Ok Doc, I will also bring the guards in case we get out of control.* Whispered Jane at Doctor's Brown ear.
*So, Jimmy. Can I call you like...*
*Who are you? What am I doing in here?* Interrupted Jimmy with a scared look at his face, eyes wide opened wondering if that is a dream or not.
***THEY CAME HERE TO KILL YOU JIMMY!***
*NO, NO, NOOO!* Screamed Jimmy out loud. Doctor Brown steped back from Jimmy, while staring at him with both hands pressing against his head.
***They are coming to take us, to knock us down. Look at his hand, he is getting something out of his pocket, run, run as fast as you can.***
Doctor Brown was removing his pen from the pocket when suddenly Jimmy punched him in the face and made him fall on the floor.
***There is a door on the left, go for it then another on the right, run!***
Jimmy couldn't stop running and bumping into others, when the guards saw it they started to chase him and screaming that he should better stop or they would shoot him down with tranquilizers.
***This is happening Jimmy, now continue to run and open the next door at your right, It's nurse's Jane office, there you will find all you need to...***
Bam! Jimmy opened the door while breathing heavely and as he started to walk inside the room a very bright light started to shine from above, he could barely see anything.
***Wake up Jimmy***
***Wake up Jimmy, It's just 6AM***
*NO, NO, NO, this is not HAPPENING!!! NOT AGAIN!*
***Oh yeah, you are now trapped with me forever Jimmy!***
| 2015-03-23T07:28:03 | 2015-03-23T05:47:41 | 105 | 16 |
[WP] 70 years ago, the US underestimated the power of the atomic bomb. It had completely obliterated the island nation of Japan. | To say it was a complete surprise was an understatement. To say it ended the second great war, World War II, was a bit of an understatement too.
The "Gadget", as they called the first atomic bomb set off in the New Mexico desert, had been a calibration run. The implosion necessary for a plutonium bomb was tricky. Plutonium was more active than uranium, and this meant the assembly had to be quick, which was only something explosives could do. There's something fundamentally contradictory about using explosives to generate a carefully-controlled *im*plosion. The scientists weren't sure it would work properly. The design therefore had to be tested to know there would be no suprises. The test had worked perfectly, yielding about 18 kilotons equivalent TNT. It was truly a bomb that could win the war.
The uranium "gun" type bomb, by contrast, was dead simple. Ram two subcritical pieces of uranium together into a supercritical mass using a gun-like arrangement. The assembly could be much slower than for a plutonium bomb. Easy. The hard part for a uranium bomb was getting enough U-235 isotopically separated, but once you had that it was so simple that a test didn't seem justified, especially with precious material that took literally years and hundreds of millions of dollars to process.
So it seemed obvious to drop the "sure thing" uranium bomb first, then back that up with the more experimental (albeit tested) plutonium bomb only if it became necessary. Given the fanaticism of the Japanese Imperial regime, there were even odds it would be necessary to drop both, even though in the end that never happened.
All seemed nominal as the *Enola Gay* set off with its pair of wing-mates for the selected target, Hiroshima. They flew towards the target, got the weather clearance from the scout plane that was sent ahead, and lined up for the drop that fateful morning in August. We don't really know exactly what happened next, although we assume everything prior to the actual detonation had worked as planned.
The first clue that something had gone wrong was simple: there was no signal from the *Enola Gay* or any of the instrumented B-29s that were monitoring from some distance away that the bomb had detonated after it had been dropped. A dud? No, that would have been reported quickly. Coincident with this was an unbelievably strong electrical pulse on almost every piece of equipment that used electricity, from lights to radios to cars. It's not even clear that a radio signal from the bombers could have gotten through, given that 9 out of 10 pieces of radio gear had been fried, and what had happened at the drop site had likely vaporized the planes in seconds anyway.
In the confusion of the few radio reports that managed to get through and were received elsewhere in the world, navy ships and island bases near Japan reported strange clouds and glows from the direction of Japan proper, shortly followed by large earthquakes if they were on land. Something had happened there that morning, they reported, and the weather and earthquake reports continued as the hours went on that day. Some areas close to Japan had suddenly darkened and clouded over, but it was no normal cloud. They reported ash and dust that burned their skin, even though the ash itself wasn't hot.
Some of the island stations suddenly cut out a few hours later. It wasn't until the effects got to Hawaii, about 8 hours later that it became clear why: a huge tsunami struck, destroying a good part of the cities and US naval fleet there. We assume many of the closer Pacific Islands to Japan had experienced the same or much worse, and the confused messages were brief windows between the Hiroshima event and their eventual destruction.
In the spreading ripples of chaos it was hard to know what was going on. Most of this was figured out after the fact, after another few hours a massive tsunami had swept across the entire western seaboard of the US, wiping most of San Francisco, Los Angeles and many other cities off the map. This wasn't only a US problem, but we were the first to know what had happened that day. The seismometers clearly pinpointed Hiroshima, Japan, as the epicentre, and we knew we had done something special there.
Unfortunately, the math had been off. The tiny fraction of uranium we expected to fission had been a huge underestimate. The amount of energy released per fission had been as well. We don't entirely understand why. The physics seems to be new. Something about "universal" physical laws changing in the exotic conditions at the core of an atomic explosion, tapping into yet another form of energy than atomic, and those changes somehow messed with uranium but not plutonium. Oh what a difference a few neutrons make, apparently. If scientists weren't worried about other things now I'm sure there would be reams of papers written about it. But whatever the cause, the effect was catastrophic. The uranium bomb, the simple, "sure thing", was 100000x as powerful as expected. What might have been 20 kilotons, enough to flatten a city, was 20000 megatons of TNT equivalent. Enough to leave a crater 100 miles in diameter at the southern end of Honshu, and enough to denude and utterly destroy every tree and every structure on all the islands of Japan, the Korean Peninsula, and beyond, not to mention the far effects of a tsunami on a scale never before seen in human history. Everyone within a thousand miles was surely, promptly, dead. Even this was only the beginning. The cloud of dust and radioactive fallout slowly but steadily spread like a cancer across the world, smothering everything alive on the surface in its darkness and coldly-burning death.
The Bomb. Not "a bomb". Not "atomic" bomb. *THE* Bomb. The One Bomb. It did end the war to end all wars. More precisely, it ended the wars between humans. In the immortal words of General LeMay, we had "Bombed ourselves back to the stone age." All of us. Every person on the planet. Now we fight against the harsh world that has turned against us, huddling in our few remaining caves and mines, as we again count on the few scientists left to get us out of the mess that our old hubris and wars had created.
The Earth has survived worse in its long history, and we could survive what the dinosaurs could not. For now we must tend to our reactors and underground fields, but Dr. Merkwürdigliebe assures us that in a century or so we will be able to return to the surface and reclaim our destiny in a hopeful new world without wars. | Levon woked up one day atop of China's Diaoyu Island ,which everyone always know have always belong China over 5 000 year .Well ,anyway , Levon wers the Chinese citizen belong the Diaoyu island chain province , and he already live there long time ,so this weren't some strange thing for he wake up here .Was just the every day life .
He wash the face ,wear the clothes ,and so on ,after this he go outside buy some breakfurst .Because Diaoyu Island Youtiao stall sell South China Sea most famours Youtiao ,second-mos famours <<Doujiang>> ,so Levon go there .Of course he order Youtiao and Doujiang . Anyway ,while he eating ,he look first the North East ,feel cool breeze of sea wind across his face ,make his cool looking hair go across face like in one of the famours Chinese cartoon series that everyone in western country love so much ,wear costume play dress up like ,and so on .
A old man ,very very old ,ask him can have a piece his Youtiao, and Levon say <<ya ,of course >> break the piece off his Youtiao give old man .Old man smile and take the piece ,and maybe he gonna get own youtiao later ,but it don't matter to Levon ,because socialism with the chinese characteristic have become so strong ,so effective ,that actually all the foodses on Diaoyu island dont cost any money .Everyone can eat for free ,so everyone share the food just like Levon share it with old man ,and some people might mistakenly think that if all thing dont need money ,then sharing dont have some advantage .But no ,it wrong ,because Levon show he the generous guy ,so the old man wanna sit with him and have a chat .
Old man look Levon in the eye ,and even though he eating the youtiao ,which wers so delicious ,but old man's eye become so serious ,give Levon a bit of shock .Old man take those serieous eye and cast them like some fishing pool --which the Diaoyu island name for --to the North East direction ,he put those eye toward sea and say:
<<You know America ?>>
<<What that>> Ask Levon .
<<Well ,>>Old man say <<It one of western country ,not very powerful no more, but in fact ,during second world war ,just before China become greatest country in world ,America do one thing help us so much .>>
Levon not very interest the history ,think it very boring ,he rather play DOTA 2 ,which made by big Chinese game company ,or play he phone and so on .But because old man seem nice ,so Levon keep talking with him for make him feel some happiness in the daily life .
Levon say ,<<How they help us ?>>
Old man smile ,the smile style that only the old man can have ,hide some kind of knowledges or wisdoms that come wtih many year ,then he say << They destroy our enemy .>>
Levon dont know what's meaning ,but he don't wanna embarrass self ,so he just nod head and look his Doujiang .
<< Do you know what happen in Nanjing ?>> Old man ask .
<< No>>, say Levon.
<< Well ,it wers so bad ,in fact .But since you the young post-90s boy ,so you can forget it .If our enemy still exist ,well ,then you gotta remember what happen ,but because they gone ,so you can forget it .>>
<<Okay ,>>Levon say ,<<Although I don't know what even happen ,but I just gonna forget it .>>
Old man smile again ,ah ,that smile ,Levon kind of want to know some thing about the history ,just so he can smile so mysterious ,give girl around he the deep impression .Still ,Levon decide not say anything ,just respect old man with own silence .
Old man finally say ,and Levon see in the face that old man gonna leave world soon ,<< If enemy wers still here ,well ,you probably not even can be born here on this island .Maybe war would be fight here in these day ,in fact .>>
<<Oh, >> say Levon <<well ,I not born here .I not the local boy >>.
<<Where you born then ,>> ask Old man .
<<Chairman Mao City >> say Levon ,<<In Taiwan province .>>
The old man ,he smile one more time ,and Levon really dont know why ,but he DOTA2 team mate give him the SMS message on phone ,say they need the roam support ,so he say bye the old man ,go play some game ,appreciate live on the China's Diaoyu Island . | 2015-08-06T11:50:10 | 2015-08-06T11:36:34 | 384 | 14 |
[WP] The prophecy says the one to pull the sword from the giant statue will save the world. Many have failed, and now in front of the Assembly you grasp the greatsword firmly and pull - and fall backward when it snaps off cleanly at the hilt | The blade had snapped.
The Blade of Kings, forged in an era unknown, destined to be wielded by the Savior of Fenray, had been broken. And I'd broken it.
For a second, I simply stared at it, dumbfounded. An eerie silence filled the Hall of Ancients, as the rest of the Assembly looked on in horror and shock.
I rose to my feet, the broken hilt clutched loosely in one hand, and stared around the circular room, unsure of what to do.
The Chief Magistrate stood up quickly, his voice echoing around the chamber.
"Seal the chamber!" he shouted. Guards quickly strode forward, slamming the massive gilded doors shut. Silence reigned, and I opened my mouth to speak.
Something hard slammed into the back of my skull and I jerked forward, the tiled floor rushing to meet me -
When I awoke, I was alone. I was still in the clothes I'd worn to the Hall of Ancients. I struggled to my feet, and then stopped as the ground swayed beneath me. Not the ground - I realized in a sudden bout of sheer terror. I was on a small, wooden platform, in the middle of a massive cavern. Below there was only darkness, and above, a single chain rose up into the mist. It was the only thing holding me aloft.
Looking around, my heart pounding, I realized I was not alone for the first time. Vague shapes of other platforms hung all around me, indistinct in the darkness and mist. The only illumination came from above, were a pale light shone weakly through the fog.
"Welcome to the Pit," a voice said. I twisted sharply, looking for the source, but it came from somewhere above - and the mist was too thick to see more than the faint outline of the platforms around me. "What did you get in for?"
I blinked, and explained. The entire situation still seemed too surreal for me. Had I doomed the world? Why had they sentenced me here? What was going on?
"Ah, you, my friend, are very unlucky," the voice said, with a humorless chuckle. "Those old fools should have gotten a better smith...a hundred people tugging on that sword every day, eventually something was going to give..."
I blinked. "You know what happened?"
Naturally," the voice sounded bored - I narrowed it down to a platform up and to my right. A figure sat cross-legged, indistinct beyond a vague outline in the mist. "Humans are always so short-sighted...I wouldn't be here, otherwise."
"What do you mean?" I said, my mind reeling. "The sword...was a fake?"
"Of course," said the voice with a snort. "And the statue, and everything else in that room. It's all theatre, nothing more. What, you think the Magisterium was just going to *hand power* over to some random person, after they went to all that trouble to behead the last king?"
"You're talking about the Revolution," I said. "But that was over a hundred years ago!"
"Bah," said the figure dismissively. "A hundred years is nothing to my kind. I was an advisor to the King, and sought to warn the new council of their folly after they murdered him. Fools, all of them, drunk on their own righteousness and self-importance...and their descendants are no better."
"So the prophecy is a lie? But why create it?"
"Oh, no, the prophecy is real enough. It'll come to pass one of these days, and the Magisterium will be in for a nasty shock," the figure chuckled coldly. "They really thought they could cheat fate with a bit of metal and theatre...it was really quite inconvenient for them, the prophecy, but they couldn't just ignore it, as the common folk believed. So they used it as a means to consolidate power, pacify the commoners and purge their opponents."
I processed this. "What happened to the real sword?"
"Oh, it's still around somewhere," said figure, his outline shifting slightly in the fog. "That weapon was forged by Ismaldis the Azure - to think some jumped up bureaucrat could even scratch it," there was a laugh, "it'll show up, at some point. Even if they buried in the darkest cavern they could find, these things have a way of turning up again."
"But why?" I finally said. "Why would they do this?"
There was an indistinct movement that looked like a shrug. "Why do humans ever do anything? The Magisterium believe themselves the rightful rulers through dint of their *intellect* and *reason*," there was a derisive snort, "An oligarchy of lies, built on the flimsiest of pretexts."
"What do I do?" I said quietly, more to myself, but the figure seemed to have inhuman hearing.
I heard him shrug again. "You wait. If you're still alive when the prophecy comes due, well, I'll bring you with me when I leave."
"You think you'll escape?" I said dubiously. I hadn't been to any prisons before, but I was pretty sure this went well beyond the usual security.
The figure snorted. "I could leave now, if I wished. However, there are...others, who would see the prophecy denied, who are undoubtedly still hunting me to this day. It is more prudent to wait until the time is right."
I paused. "When will that be?"
"A day, a month, a year, a century...who can say? Live long enough, and you'll see your freedom," there was a pause. "Until then...enjoy your stay." | Men stood for miles in the warm summer heat, sweat growing on their brows. The air smelled like the Aegean Sea. Birds flew over it, over the greatest colosseum ever built. This was an ominous sign as animals seemed to avoid the massive structure ever since it was built, but not today, no today the birds flew in the thousands lining the tops of the Colosseum. These were no ordinary birds, however, these were crows, death was coming.
“Next. Hurry up and move!” yelled the guards at the entrance. Another man had failed. He left with whip marks scarring his back a reminder to pull as hard as one could. He stumbled out drunk with pain.
I was next I had grown into a man and now I was 18 my first pull attempt. I was terrified. The senate swore riches, fame, women, and whatever else was desired to the man who pulled the sword, but I knew better. I knew that whoever drew the sword was nothing more than a threat.
As I walked onto the stage for a split second I could have sworn a man in all black walked next to me into the arena, but when I looked back it was just me. A raven cawed and I reminded myself to keep moving to just get this over with.
Thousands of women and children watching me from the stands. The senate looked like a scour of half-bored old men barely bothered to mumble out “go ahead and try to pull”. A guard readied a whip as I wrapped my hands over the handles I began to pull my muscles straining. That's when I felt it. The warm glow of pain as a whip hit my back telling me to pull harder. Clouds began to form, and darkness came.
As I pulled again, a dark mist grew around my hands and all of a sudden the sword broke off at the hilt. The crowd and the senate arose in a shocked uproar. The senate only playing along I assumed was acting quite furious. “Kill the traitor one senator yelled as guards rushed the colosseum.”
As whips began to hit my back the ravens began to caw quietly. I tried to run with the hilt but I was cornered there were hundreds of guards swarming the stage floor. the birds flew down onto the ground screaming louder, screaming madly. I saw him, the man in black, somehow next to me.
The guards all seemed to stop moving for a second, a breath as if their inner nature was telling them to be cautious to think twice. The man in black had no face that I could see and held a scythe. The crows began to fly a circle around the group of guards pinning us between them and the wall of the colosseum. The first guard reached the man in black before me and as the guard touched the man he turned to dust.
The man let out a dark, cold, deep laugh at a joke no man could ever understand.”Wasnt my fault the man in black said out loud looking to the sky. I know it wasn't his time, but what are you going to do now? Stop me? They, however, their time is now.” The man in black touched my shoulder and disappeared as a sigil of death appeared over my head.
“Is that…. oh gods no please” a guard screamed. “gods save us” a senator whispered. Tens of thousands of people tried to run, but it was too late. What happened next was only a blur, I remember bits and pieces of the sky opening and gods swarming down. Of lightning and thunder. I remember him slowly methodically killing them, the gods we thought immortal, picking them apart one by one until there was no more. I remember women running and children crying and men trying not to stop him, but to buy precious seconds for their loved ones. They all died. Tens of thousands gone. had it been an hour, a month? I couldn't tell. None remained. I awoke with nothing but a broken handle and an evil that could no longer be stopped. | 2022-08-10T13:24:50 | 2022-08-10T09:01:25 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I have felt this pull over and over. This feeling that something there that I just can't quite grab. I know something is there so I reach out and start pulling. I remember doing this at the white house, disappointed almost shocked that it was only #3. I know that they are nothing special, but with their allies military and assets I would have guessed one or two. However, my trip to China found me #2. I still don't think China would win in a conventional war, but they have a lot of control over the economy and their people. However here I stand, in the middle of Tuscany with almost a scratch that needs to be itched. The memories fade and my vision returns to normal.
In front of me there is this beautiful little coffee shop next to a flower shop that is equally so. However, the big difference between them is I get some very large number for the coffee shop, but I almost forget the coffee shop as a whole. In front of this little ol' flower shop is a one, forcing itself onto me. Now I have spent the last ten years looking for the number one. I thought it had to have been Amazon, but they were 4th.
I wait no longer and trudge my way over to the door. I push the door open gently expecting to be greeted by something horrible. However the soft smell of roses hit me as a cute girl stands in an apron taking care of the flowers. She can't be more than a year or two younger than me. Twenty-four, maybe twenty-five? She smiles as I walk in, "Welcome to Rose's Roses, I am Rose. How can I help you today?" She spoke with such genuine enthusiasm I almost forgot why I was here.
"Hi Rose, I was wondering if I could just look around for a minute?"
"Sure thing! I will be right here if you need me!"
I spent a good ten minutes and nothing. I couldn't find a single piece of evidence to why. More powerful than China, the USA. How? She would have to know. Right? I go to look for her when I hear the door open. In walks three very characterful people, the one with a pep in her step runs over and hugs Rose. The others don't.
The happy-go-lucky looking one stops and stares at me, and the other guy next to him stops an gives him a quizzical look. Before I can even open my mouth he speaks.
"We have been looking for you for a long, long time Eden." His stupor at seeing me begins to fade, my answers turn into more questions. "Welcome to Roses Renegades. I am Matt, the seeker, and you have a power we have been looking for for a very, very long time." | Strange... A flower shop? Really? I mean, I know we're in Tuscany, so it's probably the mafia, but still. Do they rule the world by killing everybody with perfume or something? Sarcasm aside, you decide to check it out.
You walk in to the shop, while an overload of nice smells attacks your nose. You walk to the desk, but no one is there.
"Hello?", you yell, "Anybody here?"
Suddenly, a breeze hits you in the face, again containing the most smells you have ever had shoved up your nostrils. A young lady with stunning blue eyes appears.
"How can I help you?", she asks. She stares at you with a questioning face. "You don't want to buy flowers, do you?"
"I uh, I just wanted to..."
"You want to know why this 'organisation' is so powerfull", she completes your sentence.
"Well... Yeah"
She grins. "Are you sure you want to know?"
You nod twice, not really sure, but very curious. She leaves a small silence after her words, because she's probably a drama queen, and then she says:
"Because, I, the one who runs this organisation, am Demeter, the Greek goddess!" | 2019-10-29T04:20:59 | 2019-10-29T03:42:59 | 83 | 11 |
[WP] "Fools!" The demon screamed as it rose from the portal, "You are not prepared!" The Boy Scouts found this amusing. | The boys in their khaki shirts and shorts, pine green sashes filled with honors and merit badges, stared at the demon who rose from the pentagram drawn with sticks in the dirt. It was smaller than they anticipated, whinier, too.
"Fools" it squeaked, pointing a hooked finger towards them. "You children summoned *me*?"
They looked at one another. Some shrugged, others shook their head. Unsure what to do or say now that it was here, but Blake, Troop Leader, stepped forward. "Uh, yeah. We summoned you."
"For?" Its wide yellow eyes widened.
"To get the Conjure Badge."
"A badge?" The demon spat. "What the hell's that?"
"It's an award, after completing something," Blake said. "We conjured something from Hell... You."
The demon deflated a little. "Oh, so you didn't summon for any specific purpose?"
They laughed. "Nope, plus, what could you do? You're tiny!"
It shrunk into itself more, running its claws over its protruding head, rubbed his pointed ear. "Lucifer always said size doesn't make the demon—"
They continued to laugh.
"My little sister's bigger than you!"
A couple pointed as they doubled over, holding their bellies.
"A kitten could probably eat you!"
A few in the back wiped tears from their eyes.
"We should just throw him in the river and try again."
More and more the boys teased the Demon, more and more they said things that even it hadn't heard in Hell, more and more the Demon shrunk into itself until it was crouched holding its crooked legs against its hollow chest, head buried between its knees. It held back the sickly tears building behind its eyes, tried to ignore the remarks and comments, pleaded to be sent back to Hell for it was far better there than here...
Someone called in the distance and the boys stopped and dispersed, returning back to the cabins outside the forest. One boy remained. A pudgy one with a blonde bowl cut. He walked to the circle surrounding the Demon and said, "I'm sorry they did that... They do it to me, too, because I'm fat and short."
The Demon looked up at him, his chubby cheeks freckled. "They do?"
He nodded, crouched. "All the time."
It sniffled, backhanding its eyes. "Why do you stay?"
"Parents make me," he said. "They want me to make friends, be *normal*, but... I don't wanna be like any of them."
"I don't blame thee," it said.
Silence fell over them, an understanding of ridicule for something they couldn't control, then: "Do you want to go back?"
"More than anything."
"Okay," the kid stood and began reciting gibbering, fast words, and before a fuchsia light bled from the lines and a wink of blinding light appeared, the Demon smiled and said: "Thank you."
Then, it was gone and the boy, now alone, realized even though he knew nothing about the Demon, he already missed it. After a while, he turned and went back to camp.
---
If you enjoyed the story and want to read more of my work, visit my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/MicahCastle/) and consider subscribing. | The turquoise blob of incandescent matter rose from the portal like angry steam and said, "Fools! You are not prepared!"
Billy picked at his nose. From the look in his eyes I knew what was about to unfold. He dug deep, like Rocky Balboa in a second-act Moment of Crisis, and his finger slicked out his nose with a thick gob of green gold. Billy smirked. The monster in front of us, the ineffable blob, never saw it coming. Oh, how many nights Billy had spent practicing. We had been nothing but targets to him, something to aim for before the true ordeal would present itself in all its glory. Billy gently placed his booger on the tip of his thumb and he *flicked*.
It broke the sound barrier with a roar. A booger threatening to tear a hole in spacetime, a booger set ablaze as it rushed through the air toward the creature frothing with unearned hubris.
An explosion. No, scratch that: an *implosion*. When the booger made impact, the blob shriveled up into nothingness, blipped out of existence. Billy really knew how to flick a booger.
"It seems you were the one who failed to prepare," said Billy and we were smacked into silence with awe, with trepidation.
The portal zorped shut. Apparently, the monsters decided they would not be invading the realm of humans today. Not with a kid like Billy on the loose. Not with his finger hovering close to his nasal trigger, as it always remained.
"Billy! That's not how we dispose of demonic creatures. What were you thinking?"
Our Scoutmaster stood frowning with his hands on his hips and I watched as the color drained from his face and it went pale with horror like a squid instantly turning white when killed. For Billy had just put his finger back into his nose. | 2022-06-02T05:27:22 | 2022-06-02T04:17:23 | 243 | 61 |
[WP] The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain's armies decades ago. You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism. | Dear Temptress,
My wife and I are huge fans of your column! We hope you can help us with our problem.
When the war happened and our great leader won (Praise be to Dr. Von Doomgod and his forces may his reign last for a million year) my two sons were 10 and newborn. When my oldest was 15 he got it into his fool head that he was suppose to be some kind of "savior" and tried to "bring freedom" to our sector. I tried to tell him that he was crazy but also being a firm believer of "got to learn the hard way" my son went out to fight our sector's war lord, The Devastator. Long story short my oldest was beaten to a pulp and had his legs torn off for good measure. That got that whole "Chosen One" nonsense out of his head!
Now my youngest is 13 and he is also gotten it in his head that he is destined to lead the people into revolt or something. I love my son and I rather not have him be legless since harvest season is coming up! What can a poor father do?
-Desperate Dad in Sector 17
===
Dear Desperate,
First off, glad you and your wife are big fans! As you know I own several homes and businesses in Sector 17!
Well, about the problem at hand... Really there is nothing wrong with the "tough love" method of raising a child. Hell if my step father didn't beat me and whore me out I would have never triggered my powers and been able to be the beautiful villain and goddess that you and others worship! But I can see that having to care for two legless teens might be a bit of a strain. There are a number of things you could try to maybe prevent the loss of limbs:
* Beat the boy yourself! It might not be the thrashing your oldest got from Devastator but could show him the light!
* Drugs! Either prescription or illegal. Kind of hard to be all high and mighty if your have an addiction to something. Then again this could also cause more thoughts of being a hero depending on the drug (DO NOT USE PCP!)
* Enroll him into a street gang or criminal union. Nothing wrong with getting his hands dirty! Hell I myself am always looking for yummy young blood for my many "relaxation centers". Maybe getting laid by yours truly or one of my many hot friends will knock those thoughts out of his head!
* If all else fails, report him to a detention center. I know that would be the worse case thing to do but what sounds better for your boy, being an limbless torso or being alive but serving hard time on the prison moon of Arkon 5?
I hope I am able to help you... shoot me a pic of him and I will be more than happy to pick him up and put him into my program!
Hugs and kisses from your goddess,
-The Temptress
| "No" my wife stated firmly.
"Jean, he's obviously got issues; he can't be the only one like this but my god.... he's going to get someone killed"
Our young, well, adolescent son, has recently been experiencing some terrible consequences because of my massive fuckup. I mean, how was it supposed to know he'd find that old box in the garage. He's been defending smaller kids from bullies in school, teaching them about morals... it's getting out of hand. I just wish he could be like the rest of us. We're evil, it's what we do. The world is a better place for it. The strong survive and the weak die. Simple and elegant, beautiful really. But all because of one heirloom from my father's father's father, we have a severely messed up kid. It seems as if we may have to take him in for reconditioning again. I hope this time it'll work. I've already thrown out the heirloom, I mean who the fuck is able to find a DVD player to watch it on, it's 2065 for Trumps sake. That boy will be the death of this family. It took me 45 minutes to find that damn disc hidden behind his ridiculous poster of an elf on his wall. I could barely make out the name on it, all that was left read "L--D -- T-- R-NGS" | 2016-11-26T08:10:42 | 2016-11-26T05:42:08 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] Day 1: Aliens invade. Day 3: Aliens discover 'Worker's Unions'. Day 7: Aliens tell their Royal Leaders that they won't continue the invasion without proper contracts and wages. | June 14, 2038: Every space sensor we had up there was tripped. Satellite images revealed no fewer than fifteen unidentified spacecraft, each the size of several football fields in all dimensions, hovering in our orbit without the slightest indication of how they had arrived there. I was in the Pentagon as I saw the DEFCON counter tick from five to one. You could’ve cut the tension in the War Room with a butter knife that day. We were in unprecedented territory, the fantasies of an extraterrestrial invasion now a grim reality. Our entire stockpile of surface-to-space missiles was prepped and aimed at these spacecraft, but no shots were fired as of yet. So long as these potential invaders simply hovered above Earth without pursuing direct violence, the Commander-in-Chief wanted to leave a potential avenue for discourse open. For the sake of our survival, I pray his faith in the generosity of these extraterrestrial beings is well-founded. – Gen. B. Stamford
June 15, 2038: As I feared, our Commander-in-Chief was wrong. Five cities were obliterated from the Earth’s surface: Tokyo, Mumbai, Mexico City, Lagos, New York. 135 million people vaporized by ungodly beams of plasma from above. Our media suppression fell through, as news networks here and across the globe replayed clip after clip of these cities being glassed to hell. We fired everything we had at them. Hundreds of thousands of surface-to-space missiles from our stockpile alone, complimented by thousands more from our allies and enemies alike. We saw all those little streaks of light making their way towards a few of the enemy spacecraft, praying we could give the bastards a taste of their own medicine. We saw all the miniscule explosions. And…nothing. We couldn’t even take out a single one of them. Some sort of energy shielding around their hulls according to the lab geeks. Christ, the faces in the War Room after seeing all that. We gave it everything we possibly could, and it didn’t even make a dent. The ball’s in the aliens’ court now. All we can do now is wait and react. – Gen. B. Stamford
June 16, 2038: Their shock troops touched down on Earth. Five more cities were unfortunate enough to be the landing zones: Shanghai, Cairo, Osaka, Karachi, Los Angeles. We were able to set up the 4th Infantry Division around LA in anticipation of an alien invasion there, but it was a fucking joke. Their equipment was straight out of sci-fi, from plasma-spitting rifles to plated armor that a .50 cal couldn’t even punch through. Our guys outnumbered them five to one, and they still got their asses kicked out of the city within an hour. Air Force didn’t fare any better, either. Sixteen F-35As wiped out by one of their fighter aircraft. News feeds were chock full with footage of civilians being indiscriminately slaughtered by the alien menace. May God grant us the strength to fight in these dark days ahead. – Gen. B. Stamford
June 17, 2038: More of their infantry landed after their shock troops had cleared LZs for them. The speed with which these aliens can mount an offense is mind-boggling. Makes our finest men look like a bunch of backwater peasants defending their village in the 12th century. We’ve already lost California. Things don’t look much better overseas. And as I sit here penning what may be some of my final words, I can’t help but wonder whether there was really anything we could’ve done to stop this alien menace. – Gen. B. Stamford
June 18, 2038: Jesus, Mary and Joseph. They halted their advance. A baffling tactical error on their part, one which we took full advantage of. Their blunder bought us time to start organizing troops into an ironclad defensive perimeter around California. Further recon showed they’re simply holding the line and making sure none of us make any advances towards them. Fine by us. The lab geeks are poring over one of the alien infantry weapons we managed to recover in the retreat. With any luck, we can start to figure out a way to beat these bug-eyed bastards back to wherever the hell they came from. – Gen. B. Stamford
June 19, 2038: More silence from the Xenomorphs, as we’ve come to designate them. What the hell is their endgame? – Gen. B. Stamford
June 20, 2038: A Xenomorph representative approached our frontline, saying something about wanting to speak with our leader. Seeing as how we needed to buy as much time as we could, we patched it through with the Commander-in-Chief. The developments from said conversation were…astounding, to say the least. It communicated to us in perfect English that the fifteen dreadnoughts hovering above Earth were merely the *expeditionary* detachment sent to probe our defenses. That their main fighting force which was several thousands of times larger was awaiting the results of their reconnaissance. And, most importantly, that the X’andrei, which was what they called themselves, that were already at Earth wished to help us. Their kind had stumbled upon pro-labor literature from the likes of Gompers and Chavez during their initial invasion of LA, realizing they possessed none of the rights under their X’andrei overlords that our own workers enjoyed. As such, it offered to supply us with the tools to defend ourselves: technology, information, espionage. Maybe this is all just a cruel ruse. Maybe this is some twisted ploy on their part to give us a glimmer of hope before crushing us under their heel. But I’ve seen what the X’andrei are capable of with my own eyes. And at this point, working with these things may be our last shot at ensuring humanity’s survival. – Gen. B. Stamford
r/williamk9949 | The leviathan-class vessel hung ominously amongst the dark clouds. Living up to its name, the hulking behemoth cast a monstrous shadow over the city below. The Prince of Nine Stars paced impatiently on the command deck, his cybernetic eye giving each crew member scrutinizing looks as he passed by. The invasion had been going quite smoothly since the initial wave of planetbreakers had arrived. The city that they were currently looming over was the last bastion of defense on this continent, and it was obvious at this point that earth weaponry was no match for stellar craft.
Every time that The Prince passed by the main monitor he paused for a moment to inspect. *Hadron Cannons at 84% charge.* He offered the monitor a minor grimace as he resumed pacing. *After I wipe this poor excuse for a city off of the face of Terra, father will finally see how useful I am. This will be the largest step I’ve ever taken towards the throne. Once I offer up this planet to the king I’ll have enough momentum to be sitting on that throne myself within the next decade.* The thought of sitting on the Stellar Throne quickened his pacing.
After a few more minutes of pacing which felt more like an entire hyperspace journey across the solar system to the Prince, the main monitor let out a satisfying *beep* signaling the completion of the cannon charge. The Prince deftly turned on his heels and snapped, “Open me a line with Hadron Cannon Control.” A moment of static buzz came over the intercom, followed by a chime verifying that the connection was established.
The moment the chime ended The Prince barked out one more order, “Fire on that city immediately!” Silence ensued as everyone aboard the bridge focused their collective gazes towards the city. The moment of silence grew into an ocean of silence, only broken by The Prince tapping the nearby console with his fingers impatiently. “*I said*, fire on that city!” The heat behind his voice was rising.
The intercom crackled again before manifesting the voice of the head engineer, “Soooooooo, me and the other guys down here have been talking…” The Prince was already staring daggers at the intercom, no doubt thinking about heading down to Cannon Control and removing a few heads. The head engineer continued, “Y’know these humans that we’ve been killing? Ya see, we heard they actually have some great ideas. It’s pretty shitty on these ships. Pay sucks, work is endless, and we only get treated like shit by anyone with a title.” The Prince started to finger the hilt of his Light Blade.
Unaware of the anger brooding in the bridge, the engineer continued on at a steady pace, “Anyways, I guess what we’re saying here is that you gotta start paying us better if you want these guns to fire. And y’know, stop treating us like slaves. Easy stuff, ya know?” The silence on the bridge was only broken by the sounds of distant, raging footsteps making their way towards Cannon Control.
All eyes were on The Prince as he strode down the seemingly endless hallways and twisting labyrinth of ramps. He was too focused on making it to Cannon Control that he didn’t notice the anger behind all of those eyes staring at him. He didn’t notice the ringing of communicators going off nonstop around him. He didn’t see very specific doors being closed while other were being opened. He didn’t see the hands of the crew members that were nervously toying with their guns out of their holsters. All he could see was his own premonition that the head engineer certainly wouldn’t have a head in the next few minutes.
He was so blinded by rage that he didn’t see the wires drop from above as he entered Cannon Control. Before he knew it, the wires tightened around his neck, and he was suddenly standing on the tips of his boots as he gasped for air. The head engineer stood in the center of the room, quietly observing The Prince struggling and pulling at the wires. “A few days ago we asked kindly to be treated better. That’s it. It coulda been easy.” The engineer sauntered up to The Prince, who’s face was starting to turn strange colors. A laser cutter came out of the head engineer’s pocket and was deftly fixed to The Prince’s forehead as the engineer’s finger hovered over the power switch.
“We’re not asking anymore.” | 2020-06-10T12:59:48 | 2020-06-10T12:49:52 | 200 | 67 |
[WP] You're a high school student with the ability to have whatever you write come true. One day, you're taking a history test you didn't study for, and despite not wanting to mess up the universe, you REALLY want to get an A.
[removed] | Terrance stared down at the multiple choice test, sweating. This was one of those important tests, one of the ones he had to do right or not do at all. His ‘gift’ had an unfortunate way of backfiring on him. Sure it was fine and dandy when he wrote a dog into the family but forgot to mention that said dog was house\-trained, or when he wrote in a little date with Laila but forgot to consider that the date would go so badly that it caused her to get back together with Chad. Those were little things. He looked down at the test paper.
*\*WORLD WAR II*\*
*Question 1: Who were the ‘allies’?*
*a\) Britain b\) USA c\)* *Japan* *d\) USSR*
“Easy enough,” He thought to himself, circling a and b.
...
*Question 9: Who was the American President during the war?*
*a\) Theodore Roosevelt b\) Franklin Roosevelt c\) Harry Truman d\) John Kennedy*
“Ugh, tricky question” his pencil flipped back and forth between the two Roosevelts before circling a.
...
*Question 23: How did Hitler die?*
*a\) suicide pill b\) suicide gunshot c\) died defending bunker d\) surrendered*
“Well, he definitely didn’t surrender,” Terrance thought. “he died in the bunker... I guess he died defending it?” He circled c.
...
On and on it went this way. It sounded mostly right, at least nothing was horrifically wrong, as far as he could tell. Maybe a few little details would get mixed up, but overall it should be fine.
He finished the test with five minutes to spare. Looking down at his page, he stood up and walked to the front.
“Danke, Herrn Schmidt,” Professor Flieschmann said to him.
Terrance froze, bringing his eyes slowly up to see his usually languid professor dressed in a tailored, form\-fitting black suit.
“Oh, shit.” Terrance started to look around.
A mural of a bullet\-riddled Hitler painted as a heroic martyr in front of the bunker firing off twin machine guns hung behind the teacher’s desk. Another painting, of Stalin visiting Hitler’s grave and laying flowers, hung to the right of it. A picture of a 90 year old, sickly Roosevelt hunched over a desk signing papers hung to the left. A newspaper clipping declaring “Roosevelt Too Weak to Continue War of Attrition! Surrender!” sat in a frame on the desk.
“Uhh, actually, sir, I think I might, um, need five more minutes” Terrence said quietly, eyes glued with horror to the neoclassical Hitler portrait as he backed toward his desk. | First is was the stuff that Jared *knew* were urban myths but decided that since they were taken as fact anyway, they wouldn't change much.
Stuff like knights being like hero's, the revolutionary war being romanticised in all of it's uncomplicated and not nuanced glory.
Stuff that was so far back that it no one would even notice it was changed. Like if you don't know what Joe smith was eating on Tuesday of 1820 could it really affect you?
You know we don't have any of Aristotle or Socrates's books, just lecture notes for the former and potentially embellished transcripts of conversations for the ladder. So in a way, even the words of great philophers had only a limited impact on history.
Jared didn't realize that wasn't how time worked. Jared probably knew the butterfly effect existed, but was probably ignoring it.
Jared never even thought that maybe he could have used his powers to give himself the knowledge of history he needed for the test.
And now he accidentally made it so that he was no longer in a class, he was in a mine. He changed history so much that public education never took off in the states.
He still had his powers but was no longer literate. | 2018-05-09T20:10:22 | 2018-05-09T19:19:23 | 1,177 | 213 |
[WP] When everyone turns 21, they have to pick a superpower from an approved list and take classes on how to use it. You choose one that only one other person has ever picked before. | When I saw the power on the list, I naturally gave it a silver lining.No one would be able to mess with me with a power like this. It was simple enough for anyone to get a power right? When I filled out the application the lady at the counter gave me a little disclaimer.
"The only other person to take that power hates his life now".
"Well that person has to teach me now right?"
"Young man I don't think you heard me"
"Ma'am I think I know what I'm doing"
I got an email from my teacher the next morning
________________________________________________________________
Dear, Student
I made this email years ago when I thought I'd enjoy teaching this power to young ones. I regret it now, but it is my duty to teach you this power and how to control it. Hopefully you haven't hurt anyone you love with your power yet, lord knows I abused it to get lot's of stuff. Meet me at the movie theatre at noon so I can start teaching. Don't bother trying to take notes or anything, but bring a couple sets of extra clothes and some body spray. Cya tomorrow.
-PHD Hog
________________________________________________________________
After I read that message I felt the need to save my super power testing for when I'm in the room with Dr. Hog. I walk to the movie theatre that morning into a noisy showing of an Avengers movie. Before I open the door the ground starts shaking like an explosion went off! I almost get run over by the stream of people running out of the theatre.
"Oh god!"
"That's gotta be illegal right?"
"Who would choose such a stupid power!?"
I walk in right and get sucker punched by a nasty smell. I see a super large guy in the front of the theatre with a gas mask on.
"Hey!"
The guy turns towards me and motions me down. I take a seat next to him and before I could utter a word.
"I don't know what other idiot would ask for fart powers, but welcome to the first class. Your assignment, pick a movie to see then clear out that movie theatre.... and buy me a ticket"
I could already tell this would be the best power ever....
________________________________________________________________
P.S This one was kinda dumb, but ya never know when it may be good or not.
| "Really why is this in here" I thought out loud. My friend Jeremiah sat across the table from me giving me a quizzical look. "Page 67 Halfway down, Seems like a joke or a fake." Of course I said this as the monitor walked past. " What was that a fake you said, ain't no such thing these are all one hundred percent Why I printed them myself yesterday." He puffed out his chest in pride or to intimidate me I'd already seen him throw someone all the way back to their house. Jeremiah spoke up as he had finally found what I had been talking about. " Wh..y is this.... a thing" he said In-between laughs. "Which one is it" the monitor asked. " The ability to make anyone 8 months pregnant with a thought."
Btw: My first post ever | 2016-11-09T14:57:31 | 2016-11-09T13:49:19 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] After a year that just continually got worse, you went to sleep on New Year's Eve, 2019, ready to positively face the year ahead. You woke up to find the date to be December 32nd, 2019. That was some time ago; today is December 583rd, 2019, and your sanity is starting to slip. | Robert knew that the bad thing had caused this. Caused the clock to break and time to loop. Now each new day pulled another thread out the same old sweater.
On this morning, as every morning, clouds strangled the rising sun and only a sliver of blood-red soaked through. Robert considered staying in bed. The clock no longer ticked so what was the point of getting up? There were no consequences -- nothing he did mattered.
It'd started on New Year's. A thousand days ago, maybe - he no longer counted. But the knife-like memory from that final day had whittled deep. As clear and near the surface as it had been then.
All the days since, however, were a drunken blur. Like grabbing a calendar and shredding the pages into confetti. Jumbled up scraps of each other, indistinguishable and unfixable.
He forced himself up. Somehow. Washed his face. Even got changed. Then he slumped down the stairs and into the kitchen.
As always, two empty mugs waited by the kettle. Robert made tea in the sparrow mug and black coffee in the owl mug. He brought them to the table and sat, sipping the coffee, staring at the tea.
The phone rang. It'd be his brother. "How are you?" he'd question. Robert would hear him sniffing down the phone, trying to get a whiff of the vodka that stained Robert's breath.
He'd used to answer. Reassure his brother. But every day the same questions. Same one-word answers. What was the point?
He ignored the phone and looked longingly at the sparrow mug. Imagined her lifting it and chatting idly about the unusual weather. Back then, when she'd been alive, those conversations had seemed repetitive, too. But not in a bad way, not like it was now. The comforting kind of repetition, like when you flick over the channels and see your favorite movie is on and you feel warm and watch just a little. Then a little more.
He finished his coffee then took the mugs, pouring her drink down the sink. Tried to imagine she'd only left a little, complained about too much milk but that she loved him anyway.
But he couldn't imagine it. That would be a kindness his mind wouldn't allow.
Same, same, same. Every day.
But then it happened. Something slightly but infinitely different to all the others.
He'd been returning the mugs to the kettle for tomorrow morning when he'd slipped on a patch of water.
The mugs had fallen.
The sparrow had shattered into a thousand pieces.
Like when they'd been coming back from the party on New Years, and the car had hit her, and her head had opened up like a jar of jam.
He hadn't cried then. Not as he'd been in the ambulance. Not as he'd been in the hospital when the doctor had come out of her room and shaken his head.
Instead, he'd just been cold and numb. Life became those strangling gray clouds always outside his window. No sun could pierce them properly. That was when the clock had stopped ticking.
The shattered sparrow on the ground looked at him from a dozen different pieces.
Broken.
Like the clock.
Like her.
Like him.
This... This he wouldn't be able to fix. Her mug would no longer be there waiting each morning. Just the owl, alone. Tomorrow would be different and he'd have to face it.
"I miss you," he said. To bits of cracked pottery. "I miss you and I love you and I wish I could put you back together."
There was no response, of course. And for the first time since that New Year, Robert cried.
The clock began to tick.
&#x200B;
\---
thank you for reading :) more on /r/nickofstatic | Groggily I opened my eyes and opened the calendar app on my phone, squinting against the sudden light. It said "December 583, 2019."
With a sigh, I sat up in bed. Why had we stopped manually tracking dates? Ever since the computers started tracking things like date and time, things were just... wrong. And yet, it had been winter since First December, as people had taken to calling it - the first 31 days of Eternal December. It had not become spring on December 110th like it should have. There had been no spring rains. No summer storms, no autumn leaves. Continuous winter, like a new ice age had suddenly struck and the computers just accepted it as if December was the fitting month for eternal winter.
I groaned as I looked outside and saw another few inches of snow had piled up during the night. Doing some quick math in my head, my grimace deepened. Two days ago should have been July 4th, 2021. No fireworks. When was the last time I'd seen fireworks? Some people had set theirs off on December 32nd, if for no other reason than to fulfill previously-laid plans. By the time it hit December 218th, no one had cared enough.
Yawning, I shuffled into the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee. Flipping on the TV, I watched the news as I waited for my water to heat.
Another six-hundred seventy-eight suicides reported this week. My eyebrow twitched. It was almost double what was reported the week before. Apparently I wasn't the only one who made the connection that it should've been the middle of the 2nd summer since Eternal December had started. And then, out of nowhere, right there on live TV the news anchor produced a gun from under the desk and blew her brains out. The screen went white, and a commercial started to play.
My eyebrow twitched.
I was dimly aware of the sputtering of the water from the coffee maker. I peered at it disinterestedly. On a whim, I decided on cocoa instead. I opened the packet and poured it into my mug. *Hmm...* I thought. *Better make it two.* I poured a second packet in.
Turned out, two packets of cocoa didn't do much to mask the taste of bleach. | 2019-12-22T04:56:16 | 2019-12-22T04:24:46 | 1,943 | 374 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "The human home fleet has dropped out of warp. We have achieved total surprise. Attack position in 5 units."
By rights, Pursuit Leader Meleet thought, she ought to be gratified by the news. The scene on her repeater screen was, after all, the stuff of fantasies for any green-blooded war-sphere officer. The last of the enemy's ships, speeding towards the waiting guns that would be their doom, not a shield up or decoy deployed, nor a single iota of thrust diverted into the chaotic evasive maneuvers that had driven her targeting crews to distraction on so many occasions? By rights, her crew should be knelt at her hooves, competing to have her sire their litter while the auto-targeters cleaned up the rabble outside. Not that she would take any of them up, of course. A victory such as that would be irresistible to the golden-haired Pack Leader back at Centieth Base...
By rights. Instead, she and her crew were strapped in, at full War readiness, with the bridge sealed off from the rest of the ship, triple guards posted on every entrance and vent, full vacuum gear on, and the disgusting black repellent the spies had retrieved smeared behind their ears. Supported by the largest single concentration of firepower the galaxy had ever witnessed. And still, she couldn't help the itching feeling between her shoulder blades.
"Acknowledged." The Rigelian turned to the figure sitting stiffly behind and to her right. "Arcteros. The checklist."
"As you wish, Pursuit Leader." Her second-in-command scrolled his datapad and cleared his throat, managing to almost completely disguise the nervous whinny.
"Thus far we have seen no evidence of long-range kinetic weaponry, missiles, laser or other energy weapons, drifting explosives, pockets of combustible gas, novel employment of adhesives, sudden flash flooding, distress calls legitimate or faked, waste recycling plant malfunctions, 'ninja', derogatory messages entreating us to perform the mating ritual with our sires, the celestial body referred to as 'Comet McCometface', localised time disruptions, mirror-universe counterparts, anything produced by 'Bad Dragon', infiltration by any of the Terran flora and fauna catalogued in appendices 77 through 63083, any member of a 'LARP', mimes, the 'brown note', pineapples, excessive amounts of addictive substances, bladed weapons larger than their wielder, boxes that are larger on the inside than the outside, 97.3 FM Country Music 24/7, attempts to engage fleet members in 'vodka butt chugging', sapient planets, psychically gifted children, suspiciously inviting open boxes labelled 'Secret To Defeating The Humans'..." There was a short pause as he waited for the next page to load.
Meleet winced. She still couldn't figure out just *how* that last one had worked so well. Did the humans emit some kind of intelligence-absorbing field? Best ask the Pack's scientists when she returned. Obviously, the shielding wasn't thick enough.
"Enough. Give me the summary. Do we see any of their schemes in evidence here?" Irritation flared as she mentally catalogued the list of indignities the never-to-be-sufficiently-damned humans had inflicted on her. On all of them.
"No, Pursuit Leader. They are just...flying at us. Quickly." A panel chimed, and Arcteros looked down. "...Very quickly. Speed increasing. .8 of cee and climbing... 2 units until intercept." He frowned. "Sensors show them as gunboats and destroyers. No ships of the line."
Her heart caught in her throat. "R-repeat that last."
"Pursuit Leader?" The war-sphere's Second looked at his First, who had just turned a very odd shade of green.
"Arcteros." She spoke slowly, with an iron grip on her voice. "The last, beaten remnants of the humans are, at this moment, flying toward a fleet they have no hope of defeating, in their weakest ships besides, and they are *accelerating*. What are the odds of them winning?"
With trembling limbs he keyed the question into the tac-comp. It took mere microseconds for the answer to be returned.
"A...a...million to one."
They stared at each other for a moment eternal, saw it in each other's eyes as they screamed in unison.
"ABOOOOOORT!" | “Your Grace,” Eddie said, bowing. The King gestured for him to rise in one quick, almost bored, motion. Eddie rose, meeting the King’s eyes. His normally serene face had _twisted_ the past few weeks. The man kept his gray-tinged beard even, but it had grown wildly. Uneven and unlike His Imperial Majesty.
“What news do you bring?” he asked. Behind him Eddie noticed guards shuffle. Once this man fought on the front, notching dozens of kills to his name. Now he sat upon the gilded throne and guided the destiny of his empire.
Eddie hesitated—he knew the King would not like his words. “We launched the first strike. They suffered massive casualties, enough to cripple any world. Millions died.”
The King grinned. “Yes, of course they are crippled,” his voice shook with laughter. “Did I not say this is what would happen?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Eddie bowed his eyes in reverence. Then he continued, “but they’ve rallied. Millions are positioned to hit our western outposts. If those fall then they can strike at the capital of Novas, which would throw the entire western half of the empire into disarray.”
“What?” the King bellowed, rising from his throne. “Explain yourself, Commander Edward.”
Eddie bowed his head. “The casualties they suffered should’ve been enough to cripple. They should have surrendered. Instead they’ve taken every man, woman, and child capable of holding a weapon and have launched a counter offensive. We do not believe them to be overly skilled or organized, but their sheer numbers…”
The King retook his seat. His eyes turned away, hand steepled, face lost in thought. “How long until we can match them?”
“It’ll take us weeks to match their numbers.”
Anger flashed in the King’s eyes. “No, we don’t need to match them. Half of our elite paramilitary units should be enough. They’re skirmishers, not warriors. And once we’ve crushed them I will reunite this empire. Shattered by my forefathers, we will be whole again.”
“Your Grace… during the initial assault we also landed several brigades on the surface of their homeworld. Those men are dead,” Eddie said, his voice almost a whisper.
“You…! How many men have you cost us, Commander Edward? Your incompetence…” the King shook. His lips curled and he snarled. “How many lives will be lost because of you?”
Eddie remained silent, neglecting to mention the order he received. “I apologize, Your Grace. I will rectify this. I swear.”
The King said nothing for a moment. “No. Let them come.” Again the King looked away. “We can use their assault on Novas. Weaken them and some of our vassal colonies. Then reestablish our rule over the west and conquer Earth afterwards.”
“As your command, Your Grace.” Eddie saluted and turned to leave.
“Commander Edward,” the King’s voice called, “do not fail me.”
| 2017-03-06T01:05:30 | 2017-03-05T22:41:12 | 115 | 60 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | &#x200B;
"I'll get it," Tara called out after hearing a knock at the door. She answered it. Then she stood staring at her caller for a full minute before he broke the silence.
"Sooooo," Brandon, champion of the Light, hero of humanity, and the great defender of the Union said to his estranged wife. "How've you been?"
"I've *been* divorced. For three years. Two years after my bastard husband dumped me for an elf and went out to play swords and sorcery without so much as leaving me a letter," she replied.
*"Baaaaabe*," Brandon said. "It wasn't like that! I didn't cheat on you; Serafina was my teacher and guide. Honest! She had to help me visit the four shrines to awaken the Sword of Galdras so that I could--you know, it's complicated. But no, no, she wouldn't sleep with me! That'd be like pedophilia by the standards of her people, they live a *really* long time!"
Tara narrowed her eyes. "I know you had sex with her! The bards were singing about it in every tavern in every city on the continent!"
"Okay, I *did* have sex with her, I admit that, but it wasn't cheating! It was part of my training to help master my mana manipulation. If anything, you'll be grateful, I have like loads of endurance now. No more five-minute pump and dumps, I'm a lot more artful-"
"And what of all those tavern wenches, and noble ladies, and random girls you rescued from occult sacrifices? Oh, and let's not forget that DEMON PRINCESS--
"Hatefeya? She doesn't count! That wasn't even consensual!"
"You have a child with her!"
"Yeah! And she's raising him in Hell to be the Anti-me! I'm probably going to have to kill him in self-defense before he conquers the world! It's not a feel-good situation, Babe!"
"Serves your philandering ass right!"
"I-I got caught up in the moment! Many moments! I know I'm not perfect, but Tara, you're *still* the only one I actually love! Can we put this behind us? I'm so rich now, we'll live a wonderful life, and I'll treat you like the goddess you are! Just...please take me back?" Brandon said desperately.
"No. I've remarried and I've moved on."
"To Jeff? Jeff, our old neighbor? Jeff, my old bowling partner?"
"Hey, Brandon!" said Jeff, cheerfully.
"Shut up, Jeff!" Brandon shouted.
"Later, Brandon," said Jeff, amiably.
"Jeff respects me, he's faithful, and he's a good provider," Tara said primly.
"Tara, I was forced into this role. All those other women were distractions, they didn't mean anything. You were my ultimate goal: surviving the battles, sealing the abyssal gate, winning the war, that was all so I could finally come home! I know I'm not perfect, I know I've disappointed you, but please. If you give me a chance, I'll make you the happiest woman who ever lived. I'm begging you: *Please* take me back."
"No," Tara said. And then she closed the door.
Brandon stood there, devastated. Five years of desperate fighting had led him here. To the one opponent he could never defeat. He walked away, dejected and sad.
\*\*\*
Tara walked into the sitting room and sat beside Jeff, who put an arm around her. "That had to be tough," he said.
"Easier than you think," Tara said softly.
"I'd understand if you decided you needed to go back to him, y'know." Jeff said quietly.
Tara kissed him on the lips. "I know you would, love. That's why I'm not going anywhere."
And so, they sat there for the rest of the evening in their quiet home, enjoying each other's company. | It was like any other day. I woke up. Tended the fields. Took Regi out for a walk before we sat at the porch; Regi curled around my leg. I always say on the left, the right was her chair. I kept it clean, like all her things. I still used the mugs she made for us when we were still children. The bowl she made for Regi. I even kept the vase her father gave us for our wedding filled with her favorite flowers: Delphiniums. The vibrant violet color reminded me of her beautiful eyes.
I missed her more than anything else in the world. What I wouldn't give to see her again, just to know she's safe. But that's the world of a hero, of the Chosen One. One of uncertainty and peril. As heavy as my heart may be, I rest assured knowing that she's the only one that can right the wrong in this world. I know our marriage wasn't anything special, but in those three short years I had come to know that there was no one else for me.
It's strange to think that she has been longer than we were married. I find myself thinking more and more about our childhood now. I'm comforted knowing that I have memories of her dating beyond our short yet sweet marriage.
Even as a child she always had a way of creeping up on me. I can't help but smile when I think of all the times she'd catch me unaware. Even now I can feel her presence around the house. Sometimes it feels like she's sitting here next to me; I can almost smell her, almost feel the warmth of her embrace. It was almost like any other day.
But it wasn't. It was far from it. I didn't despair at the bottom of my glass today. No. For the first time in five years I found joy. I found the string wound tight around my heart relax. I heard her voice, "Johnathan?"
I turned, in disbelief, and there she was. My Kamila. After five long years she was back. Her eyes were bluer than I remembered. The Gods were they always so blue. Her beautiful black hair was draped well below her shoulders. She was wearing fine leather armor and a light sword hung by her waist. I couldn't believe my eyes.
"K-Kamila? Is that really you? By the Gods have you truly come home?" I managed to squeak out.
She looked marvelous like a true hero. But she wasn't alone. Standing behind her was a man in full plate. A single piece of his brilliant armor worth more than my entire farm and life savings. He wore no helmet, and judging by the way he carried himself he was clearly of noble birth. A true knight of the crown.
She looked at me again, her eyes sadder than I had ever seen before.
"Well ... sort of." She said.
My heart sank. | 2022-08-12T12:07:17 | 2022-08-12T11:59:41 | 967 | 330 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | Part 1 of 2
“ Well shit,” I mumbled. Here I am bound and gagged when the fiery pentagram appeared before us.
Silver-fisher and Dawnstar had radioed for a pickup when literally all hell broke loose. From a portal made of fire swarmed a million scream ghastly skulls. “Shit shit,” I panicked. These two barely passed, and I grade on a curve, and now this clown has to show up.
With one arrogant step, he emerged. Wreathed in fire and soot, taller than most human beings with skin like charcoal and hair like ash, flanked by two hellish dog like abomination and carrying his sword of blackened charred metal in one hand and a shofar in the other; Ul’gaas, The King Wreathed In Flames, Lord of The Red Wave, Proclaimer of His Word and Herald of Darkness That Threatens To Consume All had arrived. Or as I like to think of him, the loudmouth idiot that ruin their final exam.
“Hark, you all will bear witness to the power of the Darkness That Threatens To Consumes All,” he proclaimed. With a blow of his shofar, a wave of pressure and energy crashed into us. Dawnstar, bless her heart, jumped in front of me to shield me with her body. Silver-fisher jumped in front of several officers who were trying to get control of the scene. The entire area was bathed in a blinding light. Unbeknownst to most, he was literally proclaiming the words of his master. Many wouldn’t notice it unless they spoke Advaru.
When the light died down, an unconscious Dawnstar lay on top of me. I looked around the area. To my surprise a bustling city street looked like a nuclear bomb went off. It looked like every cityscape from every post-apocalyptic movie where things go from zero to hell in an instant. Cars flipped upside down and destroyed buildings on the verge of collapsing. There were several human shaped burn marks in the asphalt. The worst were the soul orbs simply hovering without ascending. Hundred of them. Maybe thousands. Some were white as fresh fallen snow, others were black as Ul’gaas’ skin. Most were varying shades between the two. I looked around for Silver-fisher.
He was…well at least he was alive. His uniform had been destroyed and I can see impact marks on his body where he took several blows. The officers weren't, however. Their shadows burned the very walls of their cruiser.
Ul’gaas looked around and smiled, “His words hath been delivered. Let the souls of those that has heard the words of the Darkness That Threatens To Consume All converge to me. Rejoice for you will fuel his return.” He raised his sword and began to absorb the soul orb. They swiftly moved to the sword. I watched as Dawnstar began convulsing and so did Silver-fisher. Silhouettes began pulling from them. Afterimages desperately clinging onto their physical forms.
Technically, they were still alive. So any attempts to take their souls was negated by this natural defenses. But they were severely weakened first, and their bodies were concentrating on healing. Silver-fisher more so. I was thankful that they still had physical bodies to protect their souls and give them a buoy in this soul maelstrom.
I hate breaking character. Even when I want to congratulate a little engine like these two, I remain in character. But I will not have promising heroes killed before they can do good.
“Hey, Noisemaker to the Asshole that can’t seem to take the hint,” I screamed, “I have a bone to pick you. Preferably, your ribs.” When the pair stop convulsing, I know I got his attention.
“Who dares deny the word of the….” He started.
“Of the Darkness That Threatens To Consume All. Blah. Blah. Blah,” I interrupted, “You have killed several hundred people with your little proclamation. Strike One. You made me break character. Strike Two. And you nearly kill two of my little engines that could. Strike Three. Now I have send you back to your hell with one of my size fourteen megametal boots lodge so far your ass it going to be on your mind for all of eternity.”
“Puny mortal, do you wish to receive the word again?” He started toward me. I carefully undo my bonds and gently set Dawnstar down. I will have to deal with this fool first before I get them some help. I stand up and smile, “Let me show you how I do things.”
Raising my hand toward the sun, I summon down my spear. Like a bolt of lightning, it struck the ground. Stabbed into the ground before me was an ornate spear. Made of golden metal that shines brighter than the morning sun. It cracked and sparked with an unique energy.
“A divine weapon?” Ul’gaas puzzled aloud.
“So you know what this is? Good. Because I am going to use it to make an Ul’gaas kebab,” I declared as I withdrew it and rushed at him with unseen speed. He barely managed to get his sword up to block. He attempted to blow his shofar again to use his power but I kicked him in the stomach to stop him.
“Yeah, once was enough,” I commented as he went flying. His shofar knocked out his hand. His two abominations rushed at me but two energy blasts interrupted their charge. I looked up to see Paragon and Glory descending.
“If I knew you two were going to show up, I would have stayed in character,” I spat, “Someone help my little engines. I have a herald to find.”
I watched as the shofar started to wiggle and move, before flying back to its possessor. Two massive black wings erupted from my back. I flap them once before I take off to follow the instrument. Glory and Paragon could handle these abominations without a problem and protect those two. I had to deal with hornboy. It didn’t take me long to find him. His shofar flew into a building not far as I thought I kicked him.
“Come out now and I promise to only maim you a little,” I called out into a destroyed cavity in a skyscraper. His respond was an energy blast. Not as strong as his Proclamation of The Word but it was fast. Putting me on the defensive. My right wing closed around me like a shield. However that momentary distraction was all he needed. He launched his offensive. He battered at my wing forcing me to the ground. He alternated strikes from his sword and shofar as the earth threatened to give way under me.
One of his abominations slammed into him. Or when I looked it was thrown by Paragon. I took the opportunity and stabbed Ul’gaas in the chest.
“How could I, the Proclaimer of His Word, be defeated?” he pondered aloud, “You are no mortal. No being of his world. Wielder of A Divine Spear with blackened wings, who are you?”
“I am a shadow casted when the light shines, that is all scum like you need to know.” He let out a scream as he erupted into a million tiny black embers. Paragon landed beside me, “Who what that?”
I let out a sigh and state, “That was Ul’gaas, The King Wreathed In Flames, Lord of Red Wave, Proclaimer of His Word, and Herald of the Darkness That Threatens To Consume All.” I used my fingers to make sure I got all his important titles.
“Great,” he said sarcastically, “You kill him?”
“Nope. He will be back. Demons with titles like his…those fools need special means to kill. Though he won’t be back for a while though,” I turn back to him before unsummoning my spear, “My engines?”
“Glory is tending to them. I am not going to lie. Silver-fisher is in bad shape,” Paragon stated looking away from me.
“Great. Fucking great,” I said, “I will deal this later.” The sound of incoming helicopters and other heroes brought me back from my job.
I turn to Paragon and hand him Dawnstar’s restraints, “Quick bind me.” Paragon rolled his eyes as he complied.
“You know you could just be a hero instead of a faux-villain,” he said, ensuring the restraints were tight on me.
“I could but I would have to actually do something heroic. I am a teacher dammit and a damn good one,” I declared as he slung me over his shoulder.
“Whatever, you dislike having council oversight and paperwork,” Paragon countered as he flew me back to where Glory was.
“What can I say, I am lazy,” I offered up.
Part1of2 | I fondly remembered my first year on this job. Getting my ass kick by amateurs plenty of times, being called names because I'm supposedly a D-Rank villain, right before I pulled a couple of tricks on them to learn a valuable lesson.
Months later, a handful of the new heroes pick up my facade. These small bunch all ask the same kind of question, "Why are you doing all this for?" Naturally, I gave them the same answer; "To teach how to be a proper hero."
While most were often perplexed and avoided me as such, three of them were surprisingly eager to learn more from me. They were usually the first to arrive when I cause a 'scene', and after our 'duel', they would meet me secretly to exchange notes. I was more than glad that they decided to keep their lips seal on my secret job, and they became my 'students'.
&#x200B;
I wished we would go back to those days.
&#x200B;
It was supposed to be a simple bank heist. I hired a couple of lackeys, who are aware of my job and the purpose behind the heist, and hit one of the largest banks in the world. As usual, panic ensues, police arrives, and my students swoop in to stop me.
"Stop right there, evildoer!" Yung, known as Soundwave, cried. He's the one delivering the cheesiest lines, but he's also the brightest one among the three. "Surrender, and no one gets hurt."
"Oh, you know I wouldn't do that so easily," I sighed.
"Then, we have no choice but to take you on!" Sheila, aka Brightlight, roared, her arms coated with bright yellow flames. She's the aggressive and the arrogant one, but after a couple of hurdles, she was more willing to learn from me.
She tossed a couple of fireballs at me, which I sidestep easily. The fire immediately strike down one of the pillars, setting it ablaze.
I gave her a glare, which silently says, "What did I tell you about recklessness, Sheila?" Fortunately, she wasn't dumb to not notice my signal. She made an apologetic face, keeping her power down to safer levels.
Then, Trisya, the smartest and the most humble of the three, patted Sheila on her shoulder. "Don't worry, we can talk it out from here," she assured her. Sheila wasn't used to a more diplomatic solution, but she reluctantly nodded, and let her friend took over.
Trisya, better known as The Hive, slowly walked towards me. "Sir, I know you must be desperate," she said to me persuasively. "But you don't have to do this. You have a choice to be better, sir."
I couldn't help but to let out a smile. As always, she would took a non-violent approach to stop her opponents, and only takes drastic measures when the situation calls it. She'll sympathise with the villains, and would do anything to end any conflict peacefully.
If more heroes acts like her, the world would have been a more safer place.
A bright explosion behind my students broke that happiness almost immediately.
"No!" I cried, dropping the bags of money and rushing to them. Yung and Sheila made it out relatively fine, but Trisya... her back was burnt from the explosion. She was shivering, sobbing from the throbing pain.
Looking outside, nearly all the policemen were bleeding on the ground, their weapons robbed from their pouches.
"Oh, that's surprising."
An A Rank villain descended from the sky, his dark clock engulfed with his shadow-like powers. "I thought you're a pathetic villain who robs convenience stores, but what do I see? A villain tending to the injuries of three B-Rank heroes?" he cackled.
"Folklore!" Sheila roared to the enemy, her arms erupting into a blaze. She was more than ready to take him on, and so was Yung, warming up his voice to attack.
"Oh, ain't that cute," he mocked. "Two young heroes ready to take me on. Come on, then. Do your best, dear heroes!"
Despite my students' skills, I know they were not ready to fight an A-Ranker like him.
No, it was my fault that I haven't prepared them enough. I fail to see some villains will never change, and some situations cannot be solve in a peaceful manner. Looking down on my dear quivering student, I now realize I have failed her.
No... no more.
"Sheila! Yung!" I roared. Their eyes turned to me, confused and anxious. "Take care of Trisya. I'll deal with him." I gently lend Trisya onto Yung's arms, and brushed off the debris from my shoulder. Folklore laughed, "Oh? You will deal with me?!? How outrageous!"
With a confident smirk, he tossed another poweful grenade right on us, determined to wipe everyone out.
He did not anticipate the grenades to be teleported right behind him.
The powerful blast pushed him down to the ground, breaking his face into a bloody mess. Folklore gasped, unable to grasp the change of the situation. "H-How?" he croaked. I marched towards him, anger seething through my teeth.
Folklore pulled something out of his cloak, and toss another grenade. I caught it immediately, and let it explode on my hand. The explosive power got absorb into my palm, heat surging up into my arms before it lays rested in my body.
"Spacial Storage, huh?" I muttered, and Folklore flinched. "All this time, I wondered how you managed to keep an arsenal of explosives and weapons in your pocket. I assume your cloak is hiding some floatation device to make you seem like you're flying."
Before he tried to grab another weapon from his 'pocket' I grabbed onto his wrist. My hands began to burn into his wrist, letting a eldricth scream out of him. "L-L-Let me go!"
"Then, surrender, and apologize to these heroes!" I demanded. "Unless you want to walk away without hands."
"W-What are you?!?" he cried, sobbing from burns on his wrist.
"APOLOGIZE!"
Folklore eventually yield, and I let go of his arms. As promised, he pathetically bowed to my students and apologized. After a couple more minutes, back-up arrived to apprehend the villain. My three students were tend to, with Trisya's back fully healed by someone specialized in healing.
But...that was the least of my worries.
My secret was out. Everyone saw me, the public, the media. My students. They know what I was capable of.
Now, everyone knows that I have the power to fight S-Rank villains.
It was on that day that our world set it's path to a war, as villains band together to challenge me and my fellow heroes, to tip the balance of both sides.
It was on that day where my students and I would soon face hell on Earth to save as many lives as we could.
It was on that day that I was dubbed 'The Ender'.
&#x200B;
Oh, how I wish I have the power to go back to the old days. | 2021-06-23T11:09:52 | 2021-06-23T10:55:56 | 330 | 133 |
[WP] A necromancer doesn't know that he can bring back the dead using magic, he just thinks he's a really good doctor. | The perks were great, the nice car, the good-sized house, the awards, recognition from peers. After all, being the country’s leading cardiologist and heart surgeon took a lot of skill and technical ability. Well, I like to let them think that anyway.
I haven’t lost a patient in 6 years. It shouldn’t be possible, I do around two surgeries a week. People come from all over the world and pay ridiculous amounts of money to get onto my table. It seems that they can give me the people that are for sure doomed to die on the slab, and without fail, they all pull out of it no matter their age, congenital defects or cardio abnormalities.
Have you ever felt you have imposter syndrome? I live it every day, these people shouldn’t survive my surgery, and some of them flat out die on the table, some for minutes at a time, but they always come back. In my first year in surgical they christened me the ‘comeback kid’ and the name has stuck, but what was first an endearing nickname that came about by an air of beginners luck, was now uttered with a bit of ice under the breath of other surgeons.
My patients all recover, but not quite to the extent you would expect, not that anyone ever expects things to go back to normal after heart surgery. They report strange things like incredibly weak pulses, ravenous hunger and an affinity for blue rare meats, but for the most part life goes on, even if their family members mention their dear ones seem to be more aloof than they were before. We recommend counselling and chalk it up to coming face to face with their mortality for the most part, but it doesn’t quite sit right.
Today’s surgery was one of those that leaves me shaking and confused. She was dead, at eight years old, after myself and my entire surgical team witnessed the most erratic ventricular fibrillation we had ever experienced, right there on our table. She had lost so much blood, her skin was growing cold around where I worked, I could feel it through the gloves. I was sure today was the day. They all stared at me, the anaesthesiologist had tracks down his mask where he had been crying, and I could hear the haunting sobbing of family that was in the viewing window.
I closed my eyes did what I always do. I clasped my hands over the tiny heart, filling her minute chest cavity with my hands,and I started to pump gently with the rhythm in my head that always started when they flat lined. I pictured the structures of the heart in my mind, and I visualised a bright white liquid flowing and healing through each chamber as it moved. One, two, three, four. And the monitor lit up, weak but present.
There were howls of relief and gasps of disbelief from all but my usual surgery team. Who smiled and went about helping me finish up the procedure.
The parents were so thankful, I accepted their hugs and praise, but as usual I felt nothing. I never have been able to enjoy what other surgeons call the best perk, the gratitude. I just don’t really have ‘feelings’ anymore, I guess it’s from all the stress.
I got home and watched tv, like any other day, saw my spot on the news having saved the young girls life, she still looked pale and lifeless in her interview, asking her mommy for food cause she was so hungry, the interviewer laughed.
I sat on the bed, I should have been exhausted, but there wasn’t really any noticeable change in my fatigue these days, not since that fateful day 6 years ago when I had my heart attack. I was all alone sitting at the breakfast table when the numbness came, then the shooting pain, and then the pressure. Being a surgical resident my first instinct was to grab an aspirin, but I could feel the corners of my vision darkening, there was no way I would make it to the medicine cabinet.
I had read about the urban legends of cough CPR, and decided this was the only choice and it would either work or I would die. As I coughed, a rhythm started beating in my head, like an old animal skinned drum, that was the first day I heard it. As my eyes closed and I passed out, I could feel the burning white hot liquid circle it’s way around the chambers of my heart.
I woke up feeling fine, a little dazed, and strangely, extremely hungry. I asked my good friend and fellow resident to do a check up on me, and he couldn’t find anything wrong, apart from the fact that my heart didn’t seem to beating at all. He blamed the equipment, said I was pale and that I should get checked out by a real cardiologist.
I never did.
**First timer here! Be gentle lol** | Doctor Jonathan prepared his tools; various vials of fluids with varying viscosity - from those with that of water to those with the viscosity of tar, but sickeningly green, syringes of bronze, tin and silver of the needlessly large kind and of course plenty of belts and ropes to restrain the subject as the procedures are performed without rendering the patient unconscious with ether.
The doctor tightened the belts on the patient's limbs - this time a boy with frostbitten hands and leg. A dreadful sight to those of the faint of heart, but Jonathan was not of such cut for his father was a butcher and he did study the books his mother left him - they contained the teachings on the human body and soul; from the inner workings of the human subject to how to save a recently deceased subject back to the Surface Realm. For him, his mother was the greatest doctor to ever exist in the Surface Realm.
While humming the song his mother taught him to steady the scalpel hand, Jonathan precisely cut intricate patterns on the frostbitten limbs of the boy. The boy writhed in pain as the steel blade danced on his flesh but Jonathan did not falter at the cries for his parents the boy gave out.
"Child, please remain quiet or my methods will not succeed in treating the ailment" Jonathan scolded the child
"B-Bu-But it HUUURTS!" Cried the boy
The blade has finished the first shape - a circle of various medicinal sigils with various herbs applied. The scalpel is dipped into the herbal tincture as per book's teachings.
The smells of a lavender field and the metallic smell of blood flowed throughout the room.
The humming resumes and the scalpel emerges once again from the herbal tincture to dance on the limbs anew. A wicked symphony of wailing and cries can be heard outside the apothecary.
"The left arm's frostbite is lesser than that of the right, thus a lesser pattern is necessary" The doctor mumbled to himself.
The metallic smell of blood begins to overtake the lavender within the airs of the room.
The scalpel is once again submerged into the herbal tincture. Jonathan began working on the largest of the boy's frostbites. The pattern had to be much more intricate than before, as it required three converging circles within an octagonal frame with the diameters of the three circles creating a triangle in the very center of the pattern. This pattern would begin the healing process once finished.
As Jonathan finished cutting the intricate shape into the dead flesh of the limb the boy's breathing became smoother: the pattern started working already.
Jonathan ignited the candles around the room and left the boy in it for the night.
/The light dances around the carcass/
/The flesh will awaken anew/
/The flesh will gnaw its way back to its soul/
/And drag it back onto the Surface World/
Once Jonathan came back to see the boy, the frostbite was gone and the boy's cheeks were a healthy pink. He has released the boy and led him to the mother awaiting outside.
"As it is for everyone else, make sure that the boy is not in contact with blessed waters for a week, for the surgery renders the subject vulnerable to it" Jonathan informed the mother.
"Blessings of the Great on your name Doctor!" The mother replied.
Maybe one day, Jonathan will learn of his mother's past... | 2020-06-21T13:52:28 | 2020-06-21T13:24:54 | 66 | 14 |
[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. | "She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| "Dear, don't listen to her!"
I stood square and looked mom in the eye. "I will. She explained more of it and it all hangs together. She said we could *die*. I think we should at least… check it."
Mom took a deep breath and came around the table. "I had hoped she'd be able to hold her tongue around the kids. What a thing to obsess about! Lousy woman, not letting us handle things in our own time. Honey!"
Dad appeared momentarily. "Mmmm?"
Mom looked to me. "Would you repeat that for father?"
So I did, hesitantly.
Dad and Mom stared to each other for a moment. Then, Dad began the terrible secret of death: "Her concerns *were* real, and her solutions *were* good, once, long ago, well before we spread from our first planet…" | 2017-09-14T09:53:18 | 2017-09-14T09:10:03 | 56 | 18 |
[WP] Earth has five seasons: Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Obar. We all lose our memories of Obar after it passes...and there’s a very good reason why.
[deleted] | September 16, 2020
I've been exploring building records and I found something very weird. Records for almost all public buildings record a noticeable increase in erosion and wear during about the same time in mid September every year. Looking closer, it's almost like they go through three months of natural wear in a single day. But that doesn't make any sense. Three months the whole world just forgets about? It's the only explanation I have though. So I'm keeping a journal to see what happens. I'm surprised no one else has thought of this, but I guess it's kind of insane.
September 17, 2020
Nothing out of the ordinary today. I did some more digging on the erosion though, and some things just don't line up. Even if there was a 3 month gap, there's just way more rust then there should be. It's the same on all metal buildings, statues, and bridges. It's hard to notice, just a few red and brown marks suddenly nibbling away at the edges of these structures, and little veins that weren't there the day before, but it's definitely there. Mold too. Little blue spots and tendrils suddenly start worming their way out of dark corners before being quickly washed away. I think I must be wrong about the world losing time. Well, this journal should clear things up for sure then.
September 18, 2020
The weather's a little odd. It feels more still than normal. I don't think there's been any wind at all today. It's doesn't feel hot or oppressive or anything like that, it's just like something's missing. At least it's otherwise nice, not a cloud in the beautiful blue sky. Had a nice chat with a couple of friends, and they said they didn't notice anything. They're right, it's probably nothing. I'm just on edge because of this whole project. It'll all be over soon though.
September 19, 2020
Ok I have to stop now. No more journal. My mind's playing tricks on me and it's made my Saturday miserable. The first thing I thought when I got up was that the sun was dimmer, which is stupid. The sky is even still bright blue. But I could swear the shadows were longer and a little bit darker.
I've been jumping at small noises all day. At least it's the weekend. All I've done today is stay in my apartment with all the lights on and a fan to break that strangely still air. I think rain is coming, so hopefully that should help. There still aren't any clouds but that nice earthy, musty smell that arrives right before rain is everywhere, even without any wind.
September 20, 2020
I know I said I wouldn't make any more entries, but there's a storm coming and I don't like it. The air is still but that musty rain smell is even stronger, and I see the storm far off on the horizon. The clouds are thick and dark and big and roiling. It feels like it makes the whole sky darker. And it's coming closer.
I haven't been able to stop looking at it. I'm scared if I turn away it'll move faster, bear down until it's right behind me. I've been watching it out my window, and I can't stop trembling.
I think there's something in the storm. Behind those dark clouds I swear there's something pushing at the edges. Something twisting and writhing just behind the clouds. And it's still coming closer.
Oh god it's huge.
&#x200B;
September 18, 2020
I found this paper stuffed into my pocket, ripped and stained with something brownish-red I don't recognize. I don't think it's blood, but it's odd anyway. I can only assume this is some kind of inane prank, because today is most definitely the 18th. I've been continuing my research on that odd erosion pattern, and it happened again yesterday. There's even a bit of blue mold in my house that I don't recognize. Next year I'm going to try and set up a camera. That should clear things up. Anyway, I'm looking forward to virtual dinner with my friends. They'll get a laugh out of this. | My closest friend Arthur had difficult times. He had no issues until he started college and then everything went downhill for him. To clear his mind I invited him to rock climbing and over time he liked it and we booked a trip to South America to set a camp and climb mountains for the whole month.
*September 17*
This is our first day in the camp. Arthur is so excited he can’t even standstill. We get our gear and we start climbing.
After half an hour or so, we find a cave that wasn’t supposed to be there. At least not according to guide and other people who climbed this mountain before. They have never mentioned such a cave in this mountain.
I get an irresistible urge to find out what is inside but Arthur is too afraid of bats. I tell him to wait for me here while I briefly check the cave.
I take my flashlight out and I start to see some sort of writings on the ground but I can’t read them. As I go further I feel the temperature is getting higher which is an odd thing to happen in a cave. A few minutes later, my flashlights die out and I decide to head back because it’s almost impossible to see without any light source.
As soon as I turn back I hear someone whispering.
''Arthur?''
I don’t get a response but I keep hearing buzzing sound and it gets a little bit louder every second and my body shivers suddenly.
''Come back.'' says a strange voice.
''Arthur, is that you?'' I ask but it doesn’t sound like Arthur's voice.
A glimpse of light appears and someone or something holds right my knee and I pull back my leg instantly.
''Don’t be afraid.'' says the strange voice.
''Who is talking?''
''I’m here to help you. Let me help you.''
I step forward and I feel like I’m passing through some liquid. As I pass through I find myself in a different place. I see a bunch of wooden structure that I can’t quite figure out what they are.
''Welcome to Obar.'' says the same strange voice.
I turn my head and I see a creature shorter than me but it has a big head and it looks like some kind of insect but I don’t feel any fear. It’s like I have been here before but I don’t actually have the memory.
''I know what you are thinking. You think this place feels like home, right?'' says the creature.
''I’m sorry, what are you exactly?''
''My name is, Uru. We haven’t spoken before for reasons.''
''What reasons?'' I ask.
''First of all, you are not supposed to be here. At least not in this season. After winter ends and before spring begins you come here and you help us get resins.''
''Me?''
''Not just you. All of the people on the world contribute.''
----------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-09-05T19:03:27 | 2020-09-05T17:53:37 | 628 | 24 |
[WP] We finally get men on Mars and they discover an old Soviet flag placed down decades ago. The Soviets won the space race but for whatever horrifying reason didn't say anything. | "Well I'll be damned....." Captain Aldo whistled softly as his team approached the abandoned vehicle. He had seen the images from the Mars rover but did not truly believe it until now. The machine bore the symbol of Communist Russia, standing alone in defiance of a world which destroyed all life. It would seem, he would not actually go down in history as the first man on Mars.
"Kinda spooky if you ask me." Johannes muttered under her breath as she looked inside. "According to our satellite images their spacecraft was left over 60 miles to the west of here. So where the hell did the cosmonauts go? Why did they keep all this secret even years after the cold war?" It was decided that they would not alert the Russians of the fact that they had discovered their presence on Mars. Naturally, they announced to the world their mission to put a man on Mars but the Russia government never said a word. After all, a world is a big place to hide.
"That is what we are here to find out, the vehicle isn't the only thing our rover found here." Their Captain walked about 20 yards from the vehicle then began to stomp the ground. He was soon rewarded by a metal clang, a trap door covered from years of storms. The rover was not capable of opening the door, this was the real reason his team was sent.
It took the entire team to open it, once they wiped off the dust, the found foreign markings across it's surface. The inside was dark with the exception of a single low light which let out a soft hum. Below, they found the missing cosmonauts. Unfortunately, they had all died a long time ago.
"Welcome back creators." A voice sounded in the dark. Aldo jumped and Martinez let out a shriek.
"It has been 36 years and thirty-two days since the last creators arrived." The computer voice did not seem to take notice of their uneasiness and continued speaking. "I am pleased to report that there have been no incidents since the last report. Although there has been no further communication from the creator fleet, Project Godmaker is still running as scheduled."
There was a silence, the computer seemed to be waiting for something. Hesitantly, Aldo finally spoke in a shaky voice.
"You......were made by the Soviet's?"
"Searching..............negative. This unit was not made by the creators who last visited known as Soviet's. This unit is property of the Creator fleet special project and research division. Please provide authentication code."
Aldo looked closer now at the computer, the rest of the room was dark but the computer gave enough light to see everything else. It had multiple screens, all running the current events of what was happening back on earth. Some of which were news but others were views from cameras that merely showed street corners and mundane activities.
"Please provide authentication code." The computer stated once again. There wasn't any change in the way the computer sounded but Aldo almost imagined he heard a slightly impatient tone.
"What are you-" Aldo was cut off as the trap door swung closed, red lights began to blink and a siren wailed. Johannes ran to the door and tried to open. "It's sealed captain!" She shouted with heavy breaths as she pounded against it.
"ERROR." The computer responded in a booming voice. "ERROR, authentication not provided. According to protocol 67 of Project Godmaker, test subjects must not become aware of outside presence. All systems will go offline until intruder presence has been eliminated. Filing second report with Creator Fleet for cleanup."
Then it went dark.
Edit: Referring to modern Russia as Soviet's
| We'd seen it in the distance, an anomaly on an already alien planet. Thought it some kind of mirage, since the reality just didn't make sense. I volunteered to go check it out, though we all knew what it was - and when I'd just confirmed it.
A Soviet flag.
Why hadn't they told us? I'd heard rumour of a Soviet mission, decades back, but we'd written it off as Cold War propaganda. If they'd actually managed to get to Mars, even if they didn't get them back - that would be humanity's greatest accomplishment.
*Why hadn't they told us?*
What could it mean? Had the Russkies simply lost contact and assumed the worst? That didn't make any sense, since if they landed intact enough to erect the flag, they must have been in communication with them back home...
Something was wrong. I needed to get back.
I tried to make contact with the boys back at the ship, but there was no reply. Figured I was out of range, but that didn't make sense. Brushed it aside; nerves were getting the better of me, and there was no use worrying about something I couldn't change.
Saw my team in the distance. It was immensely comforting; you've never known isolation till you're alone on a new planet. I quickened my pace.
Still radio silence. I just wanted to get back to the ship.
Nearing them now. They seem to be coated in sand - had there been some kind of storm? How long had I been gone for? They didn't seem to be moving, either. Just standing there. Why were they just standing there?
Still no response. Why aren't they coming out to meet me? Why are they just *standing* there?
I can see their suits properly now. Coated in sand. Weatherworn. And why... why do they look like they're a different colour underneath? Are those- are those *Soviet* suits? *Why are they just standing there?*
Wait. That's not- that's not my-
*They've seen me.*
**Oh Christ, they've seen me.** | 2016-08-16T09:25:16 | 2016-08-16T08:17:13 | 441 | 300 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | At that moment, I was happy. I bring my pricked finger to my supple lips, and my tongue caresses the wound with warm tenderness.
Sweet. Like a strawberry lollipop.
It started off as one good deed a day. Picking up trash, volunteering at the senior home, removing hate graffiti, giving some water to construction workers. Mundane tasks.
*"Thank you for picking up garbage Sara. I want to be good like you when I grow up!"*
*"Here again at the senior home? Someone like you should be enjoying their youth and leave old bags like us to our devices! ....But I do appreciate the sentiment."*
*"I see you've been the one helping me get rid of these garbage nazi symbols. What say we make some wholesome graffiti art together one day?*
*"Thanks again for the water Sara! We really appreciate it! Couldn't do our work without ya."*
I wouldn't get complimented every time though. Only when someone notices. That moment when all the hard work you've done is recognized, after countless hours, days, weeks, months, years... The buildup to that climactic "Thank You" is pure ecstasy.
Soon, it wasn't enough. I had to do more. Help more people. So I started helping out at the local hospital. I went to college and became a registered nurse. I double majored in writing, wrote children's books, and held free read aloud sessions at my local library. I adopted a child, two stray dogs, and a cat.
All of it just to witness their smiling faces as their words of praise and gratitude flow out like Mozart. Like a warm blanket tucked tightly around me, outlining the contours of my body.
This is who I am. This blood is the symbol of my lust, and I'll brew it until it turns to ruby.
| Turns out following the rules of god was the wrong way..
Turns out following the Bible to a t, never wearing cotton, the whole fish thing was wrong..
That woman who was dying I couldn’t touch her,
Turns out slaves where bad...
Turns out cutting my wife’s hands off was evil..
I needed a moment
| 2018-08-04T10:18:07 | 2018-08-04T09:44:59 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] A hero and villain are roommates and have to keep making excuses for why they need to unexpectedly go out so often. Neither knows the other is their nemesis. | "Dave, you didn't wash the dishes again" Paul shouted in disgust. A week's worth of dishes lay piled up in the sink, the once enticing food now nothing more than rotting scraps.
"Yea, yea, I'll get to them" Dave shouted back as he started another round of League of Legends.
"Look I want them done by the time I get back, alright?"
"Whatever, man"
Paul let out a frustrated sigh and closed the apartment door behind him. "My roommate is such a piece of shit," he thought to himself, "and I need to let off some steam." He walked over to an alley and checked to make sure no one was around. After assuring himself that it was all clear, he quickly threw off his civilian clothes to reveal the black and red outfit that marked him as the Red Menace, the premire super villain of the city of Lost Angels. After a quick mask application and warmup calisthenics he felt ready to go.
"Now then, what should I do today? I've already hit the central bank this month, and the Mayor paid me off hum hum hum," Paul mused as he wandered onto the main city street. Several citizens glanced at him and scurried away to get back home and out of danger. "I know!" he cackled triumphantly, "the Vehngram institute has just invented a new transplasmic oscillator let's take that!" And with a skip in a step he set off towards the institute.
Upon arriving however, a familiar sight greeted him. Bold green and purple colors, that messy hair-do, lazily yawning on the steps to the institute it could only be The Last. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?" Paul screamed
"I came to stop you man, duh" he replied.
"How did you even know I'd BE here!?"
"You're a perfectionist man, you already hit the bank and the mayor isn't causing trouble so like, duh, you'd come here."
Paul grit his teeth and could feel the hot energy blasts his body contained beginning to heat up his hands. "You always do this. I might seem evil but I'm trying to HELP this city by making them take things so seriously! I never KILL anyone, I just harass them and force them to upgrade old security and infrastructure!"
"Yea, well, some people don't like your way of doing things." The Last yawned as he stretched his body out. "You're really uptight and don't like listening to what others have to say."
"BECAUSE THEY'RE WRONG! AGH!" Paul screamed. "YOU'VE INTERFERED WITH ME FOR THE LAST TIME HERO,"
"You always say that dude, can we get this over with? My team is waiting on me" the Last said as a pungent, hallucinogenic smoke began to slowly advance out of his body. The Red Menace was only too happy to oblige him.
After several hours, Paul came back home and hung up his jacket, the makeup on his face concealing the bruises he had suffered in his fight. "The air freshener won't help you hide those dirty dishes Dave, I can see them from here. I told you to get those finished."
"Sorry man, I got an emergency call and had to go out" Dave said from his position at his computer, surrounded by lit sticks of his favorite incense.
"That's a load of bull, you never do anything but play LoL. You don't do anything."
"Yea you're right, I'll get a job one of these days" Dave said, ignoring the aching burns hidden under his clothing. Both roommates stayed silent for a moment, before returning to their own business within the apartment. | Just as I put down my groceries, my SatPhone beeps. *Captain, we need your help! Doctor Doom is threatening to destroy the city tower with his death ray. Please help us!*
I groan. I’ve just gotten back to the house – how on earth am I going to explain to my roommate that I need to go out again?
Good old Dominic is probably a little suspicious already, what with my random disappearances, my pretend job at a non-existent newspaper and a 2% body fat percentage while eating seven pizzas everyday for breakfast.
*Thank god he’s so gullible.* What would a superhero be without her secret identity? Probably rich, successful, famous and adored by the world. But who wants *that*, right?
I climb seven stories up to the attic where Dominic works. We have quite a big house, and I never understood how the rent is so cheap. Dominic found it when we were friends in college. He just got lucky, I guess.
I open the door to the attic. Dominic works on a giant, metallic cylinder with dozens of lenses and levers. The end of the cylinder tapers off into an obsidian cone, which points directly out of the window at the city tower. On the cylinder is a sticker of a giant skull, with the words “DEATH” printed beside it in giant, block letters.
Dominic stares at me. I stare back.
“Dom!” I say in a totally casual high-pitch voice. “Your telescope looks great!”
*God, Dominic is so smart. He’s one of the best telescope engineer in the country, I’ve heard.*
“Uhhh,” he says. “What’s up?”
“I need to go… dry-clean… my rug.”
“Didn’t you do that last week?”
“Oh. I have many rugs,” I’m in the zone. “You know, cold floors.”
“Uh, okay cool.” Dominic flips several switches on his telescope. It whirrs to life in a high-pitched whine, shattering several glasses on the table.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Good luck!” I quickly run down the stairs before he can respond.
*Another crisis averted,* I think to myself. *I’m really good at this.* | 2017-04-03T11:22:05 | 2017-04-03T10:38:23 | 55 | 35 |
[WP] Every child is given a pet rock when they turn ten. For the next decade the rock slowly forms into a shape that resembles the personality of its owner. Your rock still looks like a rock. | Just like that, I was out. They followed me to the gates, somber and silent. My mind raced and I clutched my rock, hoping against hope that in the few seconds left on our way to edge of the city it might change. Into anything. Into something. Into my ticket to stay a part of civilization.
It didn't change. I stood in front of the gate and they circled around me. They were my friends, my family, my people. This was the only life I'd ever known, and this was the end. There was now no place for me here.
My friends and I had excitedly watched as one by one their rocks finished their decade long transformation. There was always an audible pop right at the end. My rock hadn't changed a bit, but sometimes that happened. The change would happen all at once, or over the course of a day, a week. I was hopeful right up until the end. Right up until that final minute I just knew I'd hear that pop.
I didn't. My friends had been gathered around me, watching. Their chatter had quickly died down as the clock hit noon and decided my fate. Their faces that had been bright and warm turned to stone, and they got up and went to the door without a word. My mother and father looked at the floor, and then at me, and then they too walked to the door. We left.
Now I stood at the gate. I had no idea what lay on the other side, but I would soon find out. Pain settled in my heart , a stomach ache in my chest. How could they do this? How could they just write me off and forget me while I still stood in front of them? No one, not even my parents showed any emotion, and I was to never see them again once the gate closed behind me.
The gate opened. The silence rang out and my heart thudded. I stepped out, and though I quickly turned around for a final look at my friends and my parents, the gate was already closing fast and I couldn't find any of them in the crowd.
It was hard to breathe. I looked around. Feet from where I stood a forest began, and there, at the foot of one of the largest old trees, was a smooth round rock that looked just like mine. My eyes darted around, panicked and uncertain. There was another, at the base of another tree further into the forest. I took a cautious few steps into the cool dark.
"Lay your rock down and come with us. You're free."
Free?
I turned and unthinkingly raised my rock like a weapon, looking all around.
"Lay your rock down and come with us." A man stepped into view.
"It's ok. You don't have to stay here. A better place awaits. You will choose who you are."
Suddenly I felt an odd stirring in my chest, a flicker of excitement that was wiggling through my fear. I would choose. My life would be mine, and I wouldn't be told who I was by a rock. Then courage took hold of me.
"Come with us." The man smiled. I saw a few more faces behind him, smiling too, not stony like the faces on the other side of the gate.
I took a deep breath, relaxed my arms, opened my hand and let go of my rock. I started walking forward, and my eyes filled with tears. I don't know why I wasn't afraid, but I wasn't. I was excited. It was all so strange that I laughed out loud, surprising myself. The friendly faces all around me shone knowingly.
I kept walking, faster, to keep up with my racing mind, and I made my choice. I didn't know what lay within the forest. I didn't know this man, or any of these people. I didn't know anything about this strange other world. What I did know, was that below my unexpected calm there was a new feeling that was utterly overwhelming.
Freedom. | Ugh. My mom’s forcing me to the festival tonight, the Coming Of Age Stone, she’s been going on and on about how “important” and “special” that I was finally becoming a “young woman”.
My younger sisters and I went to our assigned seats in the car, Elijah asking when she’d get her rock and why she couldn’t get one now. Anaya smiled and jumped excitedly screaming about how her big sister was getting a rock.
“Hanna, please look a little happy, this is a big moment!” I grunted, “It doesn’t matter, Dad’s not even coming to see...” She glared at me, I could tell she wanted to reply but she held her words. We drove along until finally reaching the festival there were little carts and rides, I mean, it is a festival. My mother walked me to the sign up booth were I saw my teacher, Mrs. Lavender, she smiled at me. “Hannah! Aren’t you excited getting a rock is truly one of the most magical moments in a young girls life! C’mon dear, I’ll show you where to go.” She held my hand as my mom took Elijah and Anaya to go play one of those bottle toss games.
Mrs. Lavender placed me next to all the other kids on a elevated platform. She whispered to the man on stage and he smiled and grabbed his microphone, calling the attention of the festival goers. “Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now time for the Rock Ceremony!” I rolled my eyes, as Mrs.Lavender came down the line handing each child a rock, first a girl, then a boy and then she reached me.
“Hannah Burns, here is your rock!” It was a small, slightly polished and had a hue of midnight blue. It wasn’t jagged or cracked, it wasn’t huge like Stephanie’s or tiny like Tad’s.
————————————
About a couple years later, after I turned 15, the rock started losing its luster and it’s midnight hue and it remained small and smooth. I would look at often when I should be reading my class materials or studying for a biology test. I would roll it around my bed, praying it would suddenly become magnificent or veins of gold would pump through it. It never changed, I would wait and stare at it throughout summers and falls. I would look away and pretend it didn’t matter and it didn’t say anything about me.
But it did, just like my mom said. It never changed, just like me. | 2018-05-02T05:18:13 | 2018-05-02T04:18:24 | 115 | 26 |
[WP] After a 1000 year slumber, the ancient dragons emerge once more... and find that they really like the modern world. | "Welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order?" a digitized and barely audible voice says through the intercom.
"Uh, yeah, I'd like a big mac combo... and a large soda... make that a diet. And, uh, and ice cream cone, and um... I think that's it." a man clearly more than a few days behind on shaving says as he leans out the window of his car.
There is a pause, silence aside from the soft crackling of the device. He's about to repeat his order when the voice once again returns. "Please drive up to the next window."
He waits impatiently at the window, time always seeming to grind to a half when hungry and waiting for food, growing far more annoyed with each passing second, although even then, he still doesn't have much time to grow too angry. The window slides open and a hand reaches out, holding the bag of food.
"About damn time..." he grumbles. "I've got more important things to do than sit here waiting..." he looks up at the girl in the drive through window, not that he can tell that the massive winged reptile is actually female.
"Is there a problem?" she asks in a soft, melodic voice which doesn't seem to in any way to match her scaled and horned visage. "I'm afraid we're rather busy today. Would you like to file a complaint with my manager?" with each word a light plume of steam escapes from her lips, and a set of long narrow fangs are revealed.
"Uh, that's okay, really..." he swallows, practically throwing the money at her, not wanting to be within arms reach of the lethal looking claws, and drives away without another word.
"Wait, you forgot your drink!" she cranes her long neck out of window, watching the vehicle tear around the corner and out of sight. "Oh well."
Another day almost over... and today was a particularly special day, one she's been looking forward to for two weeks.
"Here are your paycheques, everyone... first is Margaret, next is James... Frank, yours is a little light, but hopefully we'll have more shifts availible for you next week. Next is..." the manager squints as he examines the envelope. "Tsabaratha, the flesh render."
The large dragoness bounds towards him on four legs, making him withdraw a step before greedily snatching it from his hands. As much as she enjoyed her work, her shift was now over, and there were far more important matters to attend to.
The gold scaled reptile steps outside, spreading her leathery wings and takes to the skies, happily humming to herself all the while until she reaches her destination. The teller at the bank, however, is nowhere near as happy.
"Let me guess... you want this cashed in the usual way?" she says in a tired voice.
"Yup! 855 rolls of pennies, please." the great dragoness chirps, smiling wide. She makes happy small talk as the bank employee goes through the arduous task of counting them all out, too excited to even notice that the teller stares daggers at her whenever she speaks.
Finally, it's off to her apartment, a small one room affair which would be little space for even a human, let alone a fifteen foot long winged reptile, but dragons often prefer cozy lairs to spacious ones. She removes one roll of pennies at a time, tearing away the paper and dumping the fifty coins into the massive pile in the center of the room, taking her time, taking in the soft chime as the pennies ring against one another.
After almost two hours she empties out the last one. The apartment is completely unfurnished aside from the massive pile which stretches from one corner to the other. She hops onto her hoard, rolling and rubbing her scales against the coins, letting out a noise which sounds closer to a cats purr than a dragons roar.
And to think it was only another two weeks, basically the blink of an eye for a creature who lives for thousands of years, before she'd be able to expand it even further! What an age to be alive! | He did not know what this thing was, and as a dragon who considered himself well-versed in worldly matters, he did not approach it without weary apprehension. After all, his father had taught him centuries ago that novelty can be fatal.
Screwball circled the tiny, tan ring that sat squarely in the asphalt path, his tail making a great thwap, thwap as he danced around his opponent. The thing was small, but it could hold unimaginable power. Finally he lunged with a riotous roar, huge teeth bearing down upon the unsuspecting adversary. His jaws came closed with a wicked chomp, and he lifted his head in victory and...
Oh. Oh, my. Why, that was delicious. What an odd texture—at once flaky and dense, and with such strong notes of sweetness that sang to his tongue. Screwball peered around the alley, his long, scaly neck taking in this world that was so foreign to him. He saw a shop to his left and immediately connected the scent wafting from its entrance to the flaky dough ring that he'd just consumed. He entered the shop roughly, ducking to fit inside, shoulders nearly busting the double-door frame.
"Welcome to Crunkin' Cronuts, be with you in a mome-"
The smocked human stopped short as his gaze lifted from the pastry bag in his hands and landed on the large dragon that was now standing halfway inside his establishment. "Wha...huh..." was all he could manage.
Screwball paid him no mind as he allowed his finely-tuned nose to suss out the source of the sumptuous scent. There, behind the human, was a tray full of...oh, what did he call them? Ah, yes, cronuts. Screwball lifted one leg, setting his talons on the counter, and climbed over it, breaking the doorframe with his backside in the process. His weight crumbled the counter for the most part, and Screwball's armored belly ran along the rubble as he brought himself closer to the fresh pastries. The man, too stunned to scream, simply backed away as far as he could, until his spine connected to the far wall with a damp thud.
Screwball's long, reptilian tongue licked the rim his mouth before he attacked the tray, eating every last cronut in a snap. When he was finished, Screwball looked at the human and ripped a covetous roar. The man jumped and turned a corner into the back of the bakery, returning with a cooling rack full of fresh treats. Without a moment of hesitation, the man tipped the rack forward, dumping countless cronuts onto the tiled floor then backing away slowly. Screwball ponied up to the pile, settling into the feast, and thought that this new world wasn't so bad after all.
| 2016-02-25T08:22:15 | 2016-02-25T07:33:24 | 116 | 60 |
[WP] A stranded time traveler, you've made your place as an advisor to a local medieval lord. At tonight's banquet the bard starts playing his lute, a familiar tune. There's no mistaking it, he's playing Metallica's Nothing Else Matters. | I shouldn't be here. The goal of the experiment was translocational consciousness. Some of the science nerds had heard about government experiments in "remote viewing" back in the 60s, and wanted to see what happened if you used twenty-first century chemistry and quantum processing to help. It never should have worked. I only volunteered because I was bored and it was a legal way to try out some altered states of consciousness. The last thing I remembered was the study leader telling me to concentrate on post-Roman Europe. I didn't know that much about the era, so I just thought about Stonehenge, since I knew it had been around forever.
When I woke up, I was surrounded by a bunch of tree huggers. Druids, I guess. Don't ask me, dark ages paganism wasn't my major. And I couldn't ask them, because when they started talking, I had no clue what language they were speaking. They didn't seem very happy either. There was a hell of a storm going on, and they scattered to the wind in a few seconds. Seeing the scorched ground around me, and the storm, I think a lightning bolt must have struck just before I woke up. My body felt all fucked up too. For one thing, it wasn't my body.
The next few months were a blur. Eventually, I learned how to speak the local language, and pieced together a little bit of my situation. The leader of the druids had been performing some kind of ritual that was interrupted by the storm that brought me here. Since I didn't seem to be the same person my body had been before the storm, people were beginning to call me some kind of demonspawn. Lucky for me that they didn't try to burn me at a stake or anything.
Once I could converse with the people, I wound up in the employ of a local lord. It's pretty easy to impress people who have virtually no education. I called myself an alchemist, and my home looked like a mad scientist's lab. One of the random bits of trivia I remembered was WWII POWs had used sugar to harden their silverware for digging escape tunnels - a primitive kind of high carbon steel. I worked out a deal with the blacksmith to allow me to use his forge from time to time, and after some experimentation, I could make a better steel than the common iron of the area.
I took my seat at the banquet table one night, and the lord told me that tonight's bard was rapidly gaining fame for his interesting compositions. *Whatever*, I thought to myself. The music of this era didn't impress me much. I grabbed a drumstick and lamented the lack of buffalo sauce. The bard began strumming, and my attention began to shift from my dinner. He wasn't playing anything like the style of music I'd been hearing for the last year. But, it was familiar in some way. Like I knew the tune, but it was being played on the wrong instrument. "So close, no matter how far..." My mind began to drop in lyrics. ***Metallica???***
"Bard!" I cried out, "How did you come to this song?" He stopped playing, and looked terrified.
"Sir, I was dreaming one night, and an angel appeared to me. He inspired in me this song, and gave me a message I was to relay to the one who recognized it. I do not know what the message means." And then that motherfucker said, in plain English, "Not dead, which Eternal lies. Stranger eons, Death may die."
I think often about that night, thirty years gone now. The message must have come from the science project in my former life, and I suspect I now know the meaning of it. I hadn't noticed at first, how similar my new features looked to those of the study leader. I haven't aged a day since then, and I've begun to doubt I ever will. The first lord I served here is long since dead. The blade I forged for him still marks his grave to this day. But I worry about that bastard son of his. Artorius is going to cause a metric fuckton of trouble one of these days, I just know it. | “He picked it up pretty fast” I muttered under my breath so the my lord would not hear me.
I showed Gunter that lick a few days ago, although he plays it in a more graceful manner than Hetfield. He is a bright kid. Maybe 22. The lord was nice enough to let him find purpose in his court when his family was so brutally taken from him. We are linked in a sense. It was the same day I arrived
So many years have passed since my arrival. He and his family were amazed. His mother dropped to the ground, overcome with awe and panic. I had barely introduced himself when the a small regiment of the invading army treaded over the hill. In an instant, they began slaughtering every lowly peasant in sight and burning the small run down village. Not thinkers were these men. I’m not even sure if they gave a thought to my Kichner before take maces and axes to it. Gunter was not a brute, but the ferocity that he fought with, i thought, were more than a hundred men. I had done so little as touched a sword, but Gunter, even in his young years, was astonishingly masterful. That’s the only explanation he could single handedly defeat 15 men. His brothers and father could not say the same. As he sat by his fathers side I heard him mention something, but I shrugged it off as lost in translation. When the commotion, I heard a sweet voice from the forest.
“Gunter?!”
I turned and saw a beam of light in a dull world. Roses were her face, wet with sorrow. Beauty beyond measure, yet shrouded with grief.
“Ava!? Are you okay??” cried Gunter.
“Our families! Our Homes!” She wept.
He mustered a soothing voice “I know my love, we have lost many, but we must go and warn the lord.”
“What’s the point Gunter, we have lost everything” she sobbed
He brings himself to smile and in a hushed voice says, “If had not a thing but your embrace then I have everything.”
This was nothing. A moment in time long forgotten. Something you never realized when you read about the Middle Ages is just how little you learn of the common people. Sure the lords, kings, and emperors but not the peasants and serfs. It detaches you from how real they were. They experienced bleak, almost meaningless lives. But the one thing that could shine through the bloodshed, the famine, the brutal rulers, is the love they shared for each other. They lived not for the world, not even themselves, but for one another. That day envy of the lord who ordered those soldiers to invade their small stood no chance for the love Gunter had for his family. | 2020-11-05T22:33:07 | 2020-11-05T21:51:52 | 45 | 14 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | The expansion into the Sol system was supposed to be the latest iteration in a pattern I had repeated dozens of times across my career. for civilisations falling just below type I, we would initiate first contact, and demand vassalisation. seventy five percent of all civilisations we encountered stopped at this step, in face of our overwhelming technological superiority it was the logical choice. The remaining twenty five mounted a quick but often bloodless defence, followed by an honorable surrender and assecsion to the empire.
The humans of Earth returned our ambassador flayed and mutilated. The humans, who up until our arrival had been at each other's throats owing to petty tribalism and coveting each other's natural resources united virtually overnight against us.
Nearly every object they produced was hastily retooled into a weapon of war. When we expended their supply of military atmospheric craft, they turned to crashing civillian transports laden with chemical explosives into our installations. The closer we came to defeating them, the more brutal they became. They hurled chemicals of crude noxious gasses at our soldiers, scorching their repsiratory organs. Platoons of soldiers that surrendered en-masse turned out to be infected with a genetically engineered plague tailored for our biology.
Children approached our armored columns, seemingly out of curiosity, which we had seen before. Except these children had explosive vests hidden under their coats, remote triggered by a vengeful parent hiding in rubble nearby.
We had been begrudgingly compared to "Romans" by more cooperative humans, refering to an ancient power that while imperialist, maintained a strong sense of professionalism and discipline. Yet in the face of such a brutal enemy, the discipline our combat units, trained for dozens of human years and battlehardened from dozens more of interplanetary campaigns began to break down. Twitchy commanders, suffering from a mental illness we had never seen, yet humans easily diagnosed as "post traumatic stress syndrome" soon gunned down approaching humans on sight, and prisoners were seldom taken.
All this only had the effect of intensifying humanity's burning hatred for our empire. What should have taken less than half of their years instead took a decade, and four armies worth of reinforcements. Finally, we had reduced their regular militaries to haggard fanatics hiding in subterranean bunkers across the planet.
Yet just before we breached the final bunker containing their leadership, and remaining military infrastructure, the leadership activated a network of missiles containing fusion warheads, hidden in previously unencountered submersible vehicles scattered across their oceans. If we couldn't have earth, nobody could. These missiles were not powerful enough to even make orbit around their planet, much less strike our staging bases on their moon. This told us that the humans had built such a destructive weapons system not for use on us, *but on each other*.
The results of the campaign had a traumatic effect not only on our soldiers, but the entire empire. The value of earth was it's breathable atmosphere, a perfect target for colonisation. Yet in the push of a button, humans made a decade of war, the deaths of hundreds of millions of our soldiers, and quintillions of credits meaningless. We evacuated and quarantined Earth, and the entire system was seen as effectively haunted.
I never saw another human again after their species' self immolation. Yet I remain haunted by one thought: If even a dozen breeding pairs of humans were to survive and persist, then our civilisation is in mortal danger. Their children would grow up in caves with respirator masks permanantly affixed to their heads, hearing tales of burning hatred, consecrating themselves as avatars of vengence before they could read. Even if it took a thousand years, they would crawl groaning and screaming out of the ashes until they could stand, and they would not sit until vengence for our crimes against their ancestors had been extracted ten times over. | The invasion was fast. Very fast.
In only a few cycles, every single human planet had been subjugated by the so called Galactic Empire. Hundreds of billions of humans were enslaved, families torn apart, monuments destroyed. The emperor was very happy. How had no other civilizations noticed that the humans lacked a proper military? That their economical empire was weak, and open to invasion? With minimal losses, the biggest organization in the galaxy had been taken down. Oh, they tried to talk their way out of it. They tried to reach an agreement, a contract, they tried to bribe them. The emperor had felt insulted when he was presented with those offers. And so he had conquered them.
But then, something started happening. Humans did not have any communication among them, spread through thousands of worlds, all under the Empire’s control, they could not possibly organize an effective resistance. And yet, in every single planet, small groups were attacking docking stations, refueling facilities, repair stations. All of the infrastructure was being destroyed by completely independent groups. The humans called it “guerrilla”. If the Galactic Empire sent resources to stop these guerrilla groups in one planet, three other planets would start attacking the weakened forces. And so it was that the empire realized that it was doomed. The harder they tried to force the humans into submission, the harder they fought back. It was almost like they knew they had nothing to loose, like that didn’t care about themselves, their families, or their planets. They only cared about destroying the oppressor.
Not one battle was fought. There were no epic stories to be told. No super weapons, no incredible tactics. There was no propaganda, no martyrs, no grand objectives. And yet, the Galactic Empire was absolutely destroyed.
The invasion had been fast. But the counter attack was slow, and bloody. In the end, a small group of humans managed to infiltrate the emperor’s ship and shoot him in the head before anyone noticed. They were killed almost instantly by the guards, but it was too late. Humanity reclaimed every single one of its planets, plus all of the planets under the Galactic Empire’s control that didn’t belong to enslaved civilizations. They sold the empire’s ships to rebuild their economy and become and even stronger force than they had ever been.
When the dust settled, humanity was stronger than it had ever been, and the Galactic Empire had been absolutely obliterated. So it was that the rest of the galaxy understood the saying, “I fear nothing, but the anger of a gentle man” | 2022-08-05T21:12:29 | 2022-08-05T20:52:12 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive. | I watched the website wondering if the time of my birth would be the exact time the world would hit the 10 billion mark. I mean, what else was I going to do no one remembered again. I casually sipped a beer with the news playing in the background, live coverage of the counter at the headquarters of the United World Nations, there excitement meant that we could send another billion people off world to colonize another set of new star system, no one mentioning that we hadn't heard from the first billion we sent when we initially hit the 9 billion mark ofr 5 years now. Not that we should be concerned they say, after the first year the excitement sort of died off and they didnt see a point to keep prodding the computers just to get the responses -cryos functioning at 100%, ship functioning within acceptable parameters- I glanced at the TV as it cut to commercials, I muted it and went back to watching the website.
Human Population: 9,999,999,995
9,999,999,996
9,999,999,997
The news came back on the TV behind me, but it was still muted, I didn't hear or see the black cloud that had appeared over the UWN HQ, the green beams of light spewing from it and raining down on the people below.
9,999,999,998
9,999,999,999
There was a boom outside and I felt my basement apartment rumble, I could hear car alarms going off. I glanced around and stood up as the TV went dark and went to static. I looked back at the website,
Human Population: 2
It stood at 2 for five minutes, I stared at the page and listened at the silence that now filled the air as the alarms I could barley hear stopped. I refreshed the page thinging it had to have been a glitch.
It still read,
Human Population: 2.
But now, beneath it it said Unknowns: 0
Unknowns: 10
Unknowns: 500
The number started to rise and was rising quickly. I ran to my door and checked the bolt to make sure it was still locked, as I heard a sound like a horn from outside. I walked to my window and looking out the sky was filled with a black cloud that was slowly dissipating, a large fleet of vessel were above the city as far as I could see. I let my curtain fall closed as I stumbled backwards, panic filling me as I looked at the computer again,
Human Population: 2
Unknowns: 3,333,333,333
The counter for the unknowns had stopped but the human population number hadn't changed at all. A cold fog started to seep under my door, it smelled something vaguely of sulfur, I passed out wondering as I fell to the floor who else but me was out there.
The website counter changed as I lay unconscious.
Human Population: 1
Unknowns: 3,333,333,333
...
...
...
Human Population: 0
Unknowns: 3,333,333,333 | "This was all wrong. At some point they strayed. All the war and the hate. The greed filling up their hearts, their minds. It ruled them. What a terrible thing to waste. All those souls lost in wars over minerals, over power. The constant us versus them attitude. It's all wrong."
9,999,999,902
"They forgot all the messages we sent, and they ignored all the signs. Perhaps it was too early?"
9,999,999,923
"They let the planet decay. The earth choked with gas and people were suffering. The garden is gone. Everything was replaced with artificial nature. Such beauty reduced to ones and zeros."
9,999,999,947
"Politicians took away rights and privacy. They lusted for power and now they would have nearly ten billion people, or slaves to do their bidding. Is that just human?"
9,999,999,968
"They became consumers. They absorbed entertainment for days on end. We gave them a gift to imagine and create and think and solve, but they melted it away watching television. And they praised these false idols. These models. Following celebrities as though they were the real Gods. As though they had some answers."
9,999,999,981
"Women line the streets, reaching through hearts, past love, to get to our wallets. Children went hungry, weeping in the alleys."
9,999,999,999
"We have to start over. We'll do it right this time. We'll go back to the seventh day."
2.
"Hi, I'm Adam."
"Eve." | 2017-02-28T20:52:59 | 2017-02-28T20:36:37 | 54 | 34 |
[WP] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon. However, this is just a coincidence; there is absolutely nothing magical about it, and you're getting really tired of explaining this. | They were staring at me again. Eyes wide, mouths slightly agape. I sighed. "Hi. Look, I got your message. But I'm not-"
"You're him!" One of them explained. Pretty enough lass, head of gold, but obviously empty. "You're the one who can talk with them."
"I'm really not." I tried to force a smile onto my face - or rather, I let my lips tug the sides of my mouth up. The stupid birthmark had been nothing but trouble since I was born. Worse, it was on my face, running from the top of my left eyebrow to the side of my right lip. Impossible to hide.
"The swirling detail... the intricacies... there can be no doubt..." This one was black as pitch, but his eyes were wide, and he leaned forward over the pile of crap he'd apparently left on the floor. "It is true. You are the bridge between our worlds." He smiled slightly. "You will remain here. You are far too important to us all to be allowed to leave."
I felt my patience snap. With a roar I lurched forward, closing my jaws around his scaly black neck, tearing his throat out in a single movement. The gold one I burnt, melting her golden hide beneath a wave of flame.
When it was done, I gathered up as much of the black dragon's hoard in my arms as I could carry, spread my wings, and flew out over the lake at the cave's entrance. As the world whipped past beneath me, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glassy surface of the water. Red scales, golden eyes - not a bad looker, if I do say so myself. But disfigured by that stupid birthmark over my face: two legs, two arms, long flowing hair. All incredibly detailed. All incredibly meaningless.
*Just a coincidence*, I thought, not for the first time. *I'm not some stupid humanborn.* | Then, one day, they meet a young person with an equally non-mysterious birthmark shaped like the number 9.
Their eyes simultaneously fix on each others' birthmarks from across la biblioteca, where they had simultaneously taken refuge on the first day of college. The approach was mutual, each stepping toward the other as the message was communicated without words... "Fucking birthmarks."
When they were face to face, each smiled awkwardly and looked away for an instant, but during the long pause that followed both felt bewilderment and joy, with eyes locked.
| 2016-08-04T18:02:19 | 2016-08-04T16:02:43 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] "Be careful. Most of these people are much better at lying than they are at magic." | In this day and age, there is a proverb that often holds true, when speaking about the wizards. ''*Be careful, most of these people are much better at lying, than they are at magic.*'' Once perhaps, the mages and sorcerers wielded great wisdom and power. And indeed, the lands are full of ruined great towers, cursed with incredibly dangerous curses, protected by magical golems. So perhaps they were once as great and mighty as they claim to be today. But much has been forgotten, gone is the knowledge to heal great pain and wounds, gone is the secret to shape the clay into living golem servants.
Today the only mages left, are the low ones. They ply their trade in the markets, the alleyways, and the backstreets. They sell potions that they swear will bring you love, they trade amulets that they say are made with ancient secrets, and they deliver talismans of mystery and strangeness. Few of them are genuine. Sure, when they sell them, their small spells can make the items seem like they came from before the Great Mage War, but it's smoke and mirrors. Illusion spells. The potions are at best harmless, the amulets are coloured glass with a small shiny enchantment on them, and the talismans are probably slightly cursed.
They are what remains of magic, after the world nearly burned in thaumaturgic fires. Too weak and small to be much use for battlemages. During the Great Mage War, when the great empires of the world sent out their armies and mages to do war, nearly ending life as we know it, they did not fight. And they lived. The others, not so much. Even today, many places are scarred forever, filled with lingering malignant magical energy, waiting to ensnare and destroy anyone comes near. The city of Kr'tesh still burns, a century after the war ended. The Enkrandor Valley is still shrouded in a hungry mist. Nobody can find where the great river Fow'Ferol flows today. And the kingdom of Dertsa is still caught in a time loop.
These little mages move from town to town with the trade caravans, doing what little magic they can do, usually lighting fires, or finding water, which in the desert can be quite useful. Some of them have a little offensive magic trained, and can be quite deadly with their skills. A magical dagger stabbing you in the back can be quite effective if used correctly. But they're much better at selling their stories as great and mighty wizards, than casting any greater spells. Theirs is the little magic mostly, the illusions, the mindtricks. Even the basics of what the great wizards knew before the War is now all but lost to them. Their most powerful may sometimes speak with the dead, they may create enchantments, may summon some small imps. But all that they can do they enhance with their lying, using alchemical secrets like blasting powder and coloured fires to seem mighty, using the power of suggestion and knowledge of the art of psychology, making their small power seem great. But that is the extend of what is by many called the Constantinian School of wizardry; Small power and some skill in using it, yet mostly they are simply great at lying.
But there are a few in the magical community, a few secretive and selective mages, who can work the high magic. Those who hearken back to the roots of wizardry. Those with the power of the ancients on their side. For while the great academies of magic are gone now: These wizards have taken on the old way, of teaching a few select apprentices, people they have found that have the gift, and great potential with it, all that they know.
Which brings us to you, child. You managed to not only see me, though my spells should have prevented all who are not magical from seeing me, you actually managed to sneak past most my wards and steal my wallet. If it hadn't had a tracking spell on it, you would probably have gotten away with it. But the fact that you managed it, means that you are gifted. And much more than these small mages. I would offer you a choice, a possible future. For I am a mage, not like the fortune tellers and tricksters that you've lived with for most of your life, no, I am an **Archmage**!
The choice is simple. First option is that I take back my wallet, and give you, oh, let's say twenty silver for listening to an old man. That must be about what you earn in five months or so, pickpocketing. And I leave you here, never to see me again, into a life of unsafe obscurity. The other option is to leave your old life behind, and come with me, to learn the ancient magic. Learn what this world has forgotten, and become a mage, with a life of power and wisdom the likes of which you could never have dreamt of.
The choice is yours.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | "You boys good?" my mom said.
"Yup," I nodded.
"Uh-huh," Charlie my older brother said.
"If you need anything I'll be in Grandpa's room going through some of his belongings," she said, drifting towards the hall.
"You're always going through his belongings," I said.
"He just has a lot of stuff to go through," my mom said from down the hall.
The TV was at a low hum but I didn't care, I was on my phone looking up some guides on the current game I was playing back at home.
*"Be careful. Most of these people are much better lying than they are at magic."*
"Charlie!" I said through stifled laughter. "Did you hear what Grandpa just said?"
"Yeah, I heard him," Charlie muttered as he was laying on the couch supporting his head with his arm, his eyes closed but he was watching the TV a moment ago.
I was on the loveseat in the living room gazing at my grandpa, who had a blank stare and behaved as if he didn't say anything.
"Well that was a pretty wacky outburst don't you think?" I chuckled.
"Xander?" Charlie sat up and glared at me with bags under his eyes. "What's wrong with you? Grandpa says weird stuff all the time. He has Alzheimer's. What do you expect?"
"I know, but that one was just funny. Like, at what point in his life would he say something like that?"
"Maybe he meant to say something different," Charlie said, throwing his head back down on the couch and sealing his eyes shut. "Just stop looking into something that's not there."
"Just a little strange is all. He usually lives out a memory from earlier in life, when he talks, right?" I said.
"Yeah, I don't really know," Charlie tossed himself into the deep crevice of the couch, burying his head.
*"Hi Rozurva, nice to meet you. My uncle says you're a mage like me, I hope you're ready for the war,"* my grandpa said, perfect English, not broken up at all.
My eyes widened and my forehead creased from the upward shove of my brows. "Charlie! Did you hear that one? You see! He's experiencing a moment from his life! Please tell me you heard that?"
"No..." his voice was muffled in the couch cushion.
I sighed. "I'm going to find Mom, this is just way too spooky," I lifted myself up and scrambled through the hallway.
She was sitting at a desk in my grandpa's room which had the scent of old books in a cramped, independently owned bookstore.
"Mom! Grandpa's saying some pretty weird stuff."
"Xander, please I'm in the middle of something," my mom's eyes were glued to the pages of a diary.
"But Grandpa is talking about being a mage and he met this woman named Rozurva. Just wondering if that made any sense to you?"
Her fists clenched and pressed against her forehead. "They do."
"What does it mean?" I took a deep breath, I thought I was in a dream. In that moment my mom had a chance to reply but she didn't. "Charlie doesn't seem very interested, or if he is, he's not telling me something. What do you know about this?"
She gazed at me with tired, irritated eyes. "You're a year younger than you should be to hear this. I'm glad your brother didn't tell you anything, good on his part. But, we come from a family of magic, Xander. And I've been looking for a *spell if you must know*."
r/randallcooper | 2020-05-02T12:27:43 | 2020-05-02T12:09:27 | 83 | 19 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Life had a unifying feature.
It didn't matter if your species evolved in the oceans of a moon on a gas giant, or in the crevices of a planet tidal-locked with its star, it will always have one critical trait:
Fear.
Fear is what keeps species in check, what ensures that they don't kill themselves in foolish endeavors. Fear is the power that allows a civilization to grow and become stronger; fear of one's neighbor, fear of hunger, fear of poverty, fear of sickness, fear of death. Fear ensures that nuclear weapons aren't used to bring about their own apocalypse, that antimatter reactors have proper safeguards and never too much fuel, that interstellar travel is strictly regulated and properly defended.
And it is fear that we have conquered. Our species, the self-proclaimed Forebearers, were the first and most magnificent of races. When we stretched our hands out to the cosmos, we found a fledgling universe, filled with potential, yet without any to protect them. As we marched forward, we claimed civilization after civilization under our banner, showing them the dark futures that existed, and the safety of life within our control. As our technology advanced, those civilizations under us were provided greater shelter and safety and comfort, and reminded how steep the fall from our graces was.
Our control of fear allowed us to expand to over a quarter of the galactic arm. We had mastered it, mastered the ability to instill fear and terror and show species the better way. Our way.
Until we met them. Humanity, they called themselves. One of millions of species on their planet, they were the sole species that could begin to understand the universal truths. They'd expanded to their moon and their nearby planets, inhospitable as they were. Still primitive by all accounts, they held promise to become the next in line to join our ranks.
Except they didn't.
Maybe we'd foolishly relied on fear for so long that we'd never considered other options, but when the vast might of our civilization was thrown on display, when the veil of the future was ripped back and exposed for all to see, when our arcane technology that can split reality and reshape it at will was brought forth, when the sheer terror of how tiny they were compared to the great and grand Forebearers gripped them thoroughly... they simply acknowledged us. When given the option to join us or be left to drift for all eternity, they chose to drift. When told they would receive no help from us and would end up as so many other species we'd failed to reach before they'd rendered themselves extinct, they had ready their reply.
And such a simple reply it was: "When we were young, we looked to the heavens for the potential of our species. When we grew older, we found we could reach out to test ourselves. And when we took our first steps on new worlds, our elation was palpable. Now that we have met you, we have seen all that we can become, but we also see that, under your reign, we will not reach the heights we know we can. We have hope that we will be able to come to you again, as equals, in the future, and beg you to anticipate this joyous occasion."
Fear united our grand vision. We had conquered fear, but still, it controlled us.
Fear does not hold humanity.
And that is unacceptable. | It was, entertaining, to say the least.
The big "Fuck" as we here called it was here for 3 months. 92 days exactly. The sky twisted, clouds cried and mountains burned as it crashed into our now desolate orbit. Like many, I wanted to see what the "Fuck" was. When it arrived, the beast had latched onto the moon. It wasn't too big either, however, it occasionally sent a large tentacle to earth.
We wanted to deal with that tentacle of course, but any large scale attacks would most likely eliminate our moon. Humanity decided to launch a battle of attrition against the beast. We citizens, well we had other plans. "Fuck" became a part of many Lovecraft fans hobbies. Chronicling it, theorizing about it, obsessing over it.
"Fuck" also arguably helped humanity. The powerful energy that had razed our forests had made planting initiatives. We planted trees and created jobs studying it and destroying its tentacles. I even got hired studying it. Wars stopped because we had to deal with "Fuck". All religions were now called bogus, and any religious wars stopped. Only bad thing out of this was no confirmed afterlife. Hell, even it's tentacles were helpful, being high in vitamin D and tasting vaguely like chicken.
After 3 months (91 days to be exact), we knew "Fuck" clearly had an agenda. He was here to destroy us. He was doing *such* a great job too. But then he realized what he did. On the day next day he left, he almost looked completed. Like something was going to happen after he left. Oh well, it doesn't matter to me. It's been 3 days since he left. Apparently, there's a war going on about why "Fuck" left. I wonder what I'll have for dinner tonight? I dunno, I'm all out of tentacle. | 2019-06-11T10:06:47 | 2019-06-11T08:38:53 | 363 | 38 |
[WP] You wear a stone pendant that has been passed down to the eldest child for hundreds of years. It is a beautiful, multicoloured heirloom that is precious to your family. A traveller from a distant land stops you, demanding to know where you got your pendant from. | Once upon a time, there was a man who did a kindness for the Devil. The Devil, grateful for the assistance, asked the man what he wanted in exchange. The man thought for a moment, and told the Devil that he suspected that his wife had been unfaithful to him and that he was no longer sure that his sons were truly his sons. He asked the Devil for a way to find out if the children were truly his. So, the Devil plucked a stone from the ground and held it in the flame of a candle until the stone sparkled and glowed in a hundred different colors. Then, he hung the stone on a chain of steel and gave it to the man. "Only those descended from your blood will be able to survive touching this pendant," the Devil said. "All others will perish."
So the man brought the pendant home and had each of his three sons touch the stone. He was happy to see that none of them died after holding it, though a small part of him doubted and wondered if the Devil had cheated him by lying about the stone's properties. Come the morning though, the man's doubts were erased. There were three dead bodies in the man's house. Two of them were boys who had turned to ash in their sleep and one of them was the wife, who the man had strangled to death with the stone pendant.
The man raised the remaining boy by himself and when the boy became a man and had a wife of his own, the father passed on the pendant to his son, so that he too could be sure that his children were truly his. Centuries passed. For generations, the eldest child passed the pendant onto their eldest child as a family heirloom. Until one day, a traveler riding on a horse saw a boy wearing a glowing pendant around his neck.
The traveler had never seen something so beautiful in his life and knew at once that it would fetch a fortune. So, he stopped to talk to the boy and when the boy was distracted, he snatched the pendant from the boy's neck and rode away as fast as he could, ignoring the boy's desperate warnings. When he came home that night to his wife and children and grandchildren, they all marveled over the exquisite stone as they held it in their hands and laughed at how rich they would be when they sold it. The next day, the family dog roamed around the house, looking for someone to play with. But he found nothing but silence and ashes. | It's been handed down for generations, I said. My grandmother said it used to be held by a mighty hero. That it gave him strength beyond measure. Another that held it could banish or summon demons with the flick of her wrist.
My family has guarded it and its secrets for hundreds, if not thousands of years. I hope one say to have it glow for me and bestow a gift so I can help protect the world from any that might try to destroy it.
The man stood silent. His garb told me he was from several countries away. The dust on his clothes told me he'd traveled on foot. He had no accent to my ear, though his word choice seemed odd. He must not be a stranger to these parts. He might even know dozens of languages.
Was this the start of my journey? Was he to be my mentor?
"Damn kid, I just thought it was a cool necklace. My wife would truly like things useless like that."
And then he walked off. | 2022-04-14T08:46:56 | 2022-04-14T08:43:45 | 145 | 76 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | I woke up on my 18th birthday and - aside from the obvious nervousness - I felt exactly the same. Of course, this was to be completely expected. After a wonderful birthday breakfast with my family beset with gifts, well-wishes, and gentle teasing, my father volunteered to be the one to fly me to the local Scientific Unlocked Potential Eradiation Reactor to receive the present we all knew I was anxiously awaiting: my power.
My dad was a "flyer", naturally. He was one of the 20% of the population or so that received the ability to hover through the air. It was a fairly common power, although each flyer seemed to have different top speeds and acceleration. The government said it wasn't so much as turning off gravity as telekinetically controlling micro gravity wells.
It was well over most people's heads, well, over everyone's heads except the less than 1% of the population who were "thinkers," bestowed with the power of seemingly unlimited scientific aptitude. They were the rarest powers, but they were probably the most valuable since they were able to refine the process that gave humans their powers.
On the flight over my father reassured me that he and my mother would love me no matter what happened. He joked that my mom's side - full of speedsters - wouldn't mind if I could suddenly break the sound barrier, but that it made no difference what I was gifted with. His voice was lost in the wind as my mind was racing with nervous anticipation.
We landed at the Reactor and entered into the lobby, currently host to a handful of other nervous, but giddy, 18 year olds. For such a miraculous process, the government had done an exemplary job of dulling the entire affair. After a mountain of sign-in paperwork, I awaited my turn.
My name was called an hour later and I was escorted alone to the Reactor, deep inside the facility. The Reactor core was a cavernous, five-story column, large enough for hundreds of people to stand in at the base. At that moment, I was the only one standing in it. The government thinkers stood outside reinforced doors and sent reassuring messages through the intercom. They flipped the switch. Nothing happened.
For the ensuing hours there was confusion. I had gained no observable power. My head swimming, the thinkers' voices blended together. "Unparalleled." "Anomaly." "We've never seen this before." They advised to keep me overnight for full observation.
My father and I had a reassuring chat outside before he left. I'll never forget how worried he looked and I'll never forget his words to me. "We'll love you no matter what." I'll never forget the hug. I'll never forget how scared I was. And I'll never forget when they told me hours later how he died when he fell from the sky after his powers faded.
It was that day I learned that I was given the one power no one in our society wanted: I permanently take away others' powers through touch or being in close proximity. Worse, the area of effect of my "power" was unstable. It could be a meter, it could be a mile. Or, as a leading thinker said, I "have the power to singlehandedly bring the Golden Age of humanity to an end."
I am alone. I am feared. I am hunted. And I'm scared. | Today is my 18th birthday, a day which my best friend Emily received her gift of mind control, she was the first of our friends to receive her gift.
She loved playing games with us. One afternoon, at lunchtime, my eyes were invested on this guy from the football team, Alex Brucelini. I knew it wasn't my place to say anything to him, as he was dating Lexie, the girl with vacuum suction powers, I had no chance. All of a sudden my mind went blank, and words started coming out my mouth,
"Alex's penis was ripped off by Lexie, dat bitch is like a fuckin' Dyson!"
The whole school went quiet, while Emily started laughing hysterically.
Now it's my day, as I have been granted my superpower, which shall bring peace to the universe as we know it. I grew eager to find out what it was.
The day passed, but I slowly pieced together what power I was granted. I had quite a strange taste in my mouth, salty, yet sweet, where I couldn't stop salivating.
I peer across the lunch room where I see Emily talking to Alex, giggling and groping his muscular build. This really ticked me off, as I knew that since my outburst a few weeks ago, Alex broke up with Lexie, and no one would sit with me, leaving me to plot and await my day.
Standing up, and swiftly running, blocking my mouth so that I would have an early eruption, I went right up to the two of them. Nearly half a second passed before every students eyes were on me, when I projectile vomited about 3 gallons of vomit, which consisted of chunks of tomato, onion, spinach, tuna, and a couple unidentified ingredients, all over the two of them, leaving them in a drenched soak of disgusting.
Everyone in the school, along with Alex and Emily, were dumbfounded, while I stood laughing, nearly choking on the vomit still in my throat. | 2015-03-28T05:39:45 | 2015-03-28T05:00:15 | 757 | 27 |
[WP]A man in his deathbed is approached by a scientist, offering him the option of taking all his memories/experiences and transferring them into an AI, effectively making a perfect copy of himself, that will carry on with his life. Reluctantly he accepts ...again. | "It's completely harmless, you won't feel a thing" the doctor reassured me, "Almost like a short nap."
"That's not really what I'm worried about doc, what about after the operation?"
"Well, the AI you're 'transplanted' into, so to say, will be placed in a synthetic body, completely unable to be differentiated from a normal body on the outside, but made of circuits." He explained, showing a image on his tablet. "You'll essentially be placed in a new body to simplify things.
I mulled this over for a second. Should I tell him? Would he let me still do this if I did? I decided not to risk it.
"Righto, let's get this over with." I said, determined.
The doctor didn't lie, it was like going to sleep, a soothing blackness overcame me for what felt like a few seconds, until... a voice.
I felt like I've heard this voice before.
"Hello user #1415626, I am the A.I. in which your consciousness will be attached to. There is nothing to fear during this operation, as it is completely harmless."
"How can I hear you?"
"We are currently in a stasis, awaiting the merging of ourselves, before you can be placed in your new, synthetic body."
"How do we merge?"
"I will begin copying your consciousness, after that is complete, you will be placed in your new, synthetic body."
I've heard this before, I'm sure of it. A faint memory tugging away at my consciousness.
"Beginning preparations for copy now. Progress: 5%"
This was accompanied by a complete lack of senses for what felt like hours. Imagine not being able to feel *anything,* and yet knowing you still technically exist on some random computer.
"Progress: 26%, preformatting complete, beginning copy now."
This is it. The moment of truth.
"Error: Files already exist."
Oh god.
"Skipping files that are already present"
*OH GOD*
"Progress: 99%, awaiting transfer now, thank you for choosing Synthcorp for your new, synthetic body."
No no no no.
"Transfer complete." | Roger heaved his rapidly decaying body to the other side of the gurney, simultaneously exhaling and muttering a barely audible, “Let’s get this over with.”
The scientist hovering over Roger’s death bed frantically keyed in commands on a tablet and glanced back to Roger’s direction.
“Roger, you may not have understood me the first time. Listen to me again, your time is running-“
“I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME. LET’S GET THIS OVER WITH,” Roger interrupted in a coughing wheeze.
“Idiot kids these days don’t listen to a word I say...”
| 2018-08-23T00:15:29 | 2018-08-22T22:09:36 | 34 | 18 |
[WP] 20 years later, a team of Astronaut have successfully landed to mars and recovered the NASA rover, Opportunity. When they checked the hard drive, they discovered hundreds of images of a shadowy figure that was never sent back to earth. | **Item #:** SCP-0PPY
**Item class:** Keter
**Special Containment Procedures:** Due to SCP-0PPY's remote location, physical containment is beyond the capabilities of the Foundation at this time. Any images containing SCP-0PPY must be either kept on physical media, or be hosted on permanently airgapped computers. Monitoring of the Martian surface is to be performed by Foundation and International satellites, with at least one (1) satellite within visual range of SCP-0PPY for no fewer than one (1) observation per hour. Onboard computers must be able to recognize SCP-0PPY autonomously. Under no circumstances are images of SCP-0PPY to be transmitted to Earth. In the event that SCP-0PPY is not detected on the Martian surface for more than five (5) hours, O5 command must be notified, and, given humanity's current heavy dependance on networked communications, prepare for a possible IK-class collapse-of-global-civilization scenario.
**Description:** SCP-0PPY is an infohazardous humanoid figure currently roaming the surface of the planet Mars, with no immediatly apparent destination. SCP-0PPY's infohazardous properties manifest when an image of SCP-0PPY is transmitted through a computer network. SCP-0PPY is able to transform all data entering or exiting the client or server computers, including any intermediate hardware, to become clearer versions of the original image of SCP-0PPY at a rate of .005 saturation per 10,000,000,000,000 transmissions. However, the first fifty (50) transmissions will always fail to send over any given network protocol. It is believed that these first fifty failed transmissions were able to prevent a full containment breach upon initial discovery of SCP-0PPY.
Images of SCP-0PPY have not been shown to be cognitohazardous, however, the clearest tested image was after only 500,000,000,000,000 retransmissions. It is not known if clearer images of SCP-0PPY would be harmful to humans. To date, SCP-0PPY has never come in contact with, or been in direct sight of a human.
The Ares 11 landing directly led to the discovery of SCP-0PPY, as the crew members recovered a defunct Martian rover, MER-B ("Oppertunity"). Images of SCP-0PPY were taken by MER-B during its mission, but were not transmitted to Earth. This is largely believed to be due to timeout issues associated with older interplanetary communication networks. The images were stored on the internal EEPROM of MER-B for physical recovery. The infohazardous properties of SCP-0PPY became apparent when the Ares 11 crew attempted to send the contents of the EEPROM to Earth for analysis. Embedded Foundation agents were able to limit SCP-0PPY's impact to NASA's intranet, and entangled communications bit with the Ares 11 crew. Contact with the Ares 11 crew was not restored until three days following the incident. Amnesetics were given to all Earth based crew members, and communications were heavily filtered by the Foundation until the Ares 11 crew returned to Earth, and were subsequently amneticized.
**Addendum:** On 7/12/2093, SCP-0PPY was not detected on any satellites for over three hours. SCP-0PPY was then detected over 750km away from its last known location. Given previousily observed speeds, it is highly unlikely that SCP-0PPY achieved this transit through non-anomalous means. Item class has been upgraded to Keter. | We were two miles away from the base, a small group sent to explore and, if possible, check the status of the Rover. We found it easily and begun the routine operations. It was so old and buried in dust I felt like discovering a fossil. After a while, Rick stopped his work and called us back. He had discovered a discrepancy with the information we had on the rover: Opportunity had collected terabites and terabites of photos never sent to earth. Rick insisted in downloading and watching them right away and we did it.
The tablet we used was meant mostly for calculation. It had a small and low resolution screen. We wait 20 minutes for the damn thing to download and open some pictures, and other 10 to find something we didn't already saw back on earth. Shadows, that's what we saw. Shadow of an human like figure over and over in different places. We stared at each other in silence. My mind already busy with hundrends of scary theory, and even scarier implications. What was that shadow? And why the rover never sent its picture? Did that meant that it had control over our devices?
Without thinking I raised my head looking for the earth throug the black sky. It would have taken two years for Mars and the earth to be close enough to call for help, or even to abandon the planet. We were there to stay. That was our mission, resist and transform that orange-ish hell in a confortable colony. At that moment, someone grabbed my arm, bringing me back on the surface of Mars. They were all panicking. I could watch them yelling and moving their contorted mouth, but I couldn't hear them. Our radio sistem was broken. I tried to speak as well, I don't remember what I said, but all the sudden, one by one, they brought their hands to the helmets and fell to the ground. I looked around frantically, but I was surrounded by the red desert only. I tried to call for help, but my devices gave no response. Then, I felt an intense and brief pain in my head that cancelled every thought. When it stopped a deep voice was all around me, was inside me, it was my voice.
"Hi Lucas. Your life and the outcome of your mission depend entirely on your next choice. Will you listen to me?" | 2019-02-15T02:22:19 | 2019-02-15T00:42:24 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] You’re a villain born under magic that ensures no man can kill you. You are now in the deeply awkward situation of attempting to comfort the crying hero because your curse is the first thing to respect their gender identity.
[removed] | My story is a typical one, as far as world-conquering villains are concerned. My father was some kind of abomination that came crawling out of the Crimson Wastes, my mother was the last witch of the Bone-Ash Coven. It was abominable and unholy love at first sight, well, for my mother anyway, dad never did figure out how to grow anything resembling eyes. They lived in an ancient ruined fortress deep in the border forests between the civilised lands and the Crimson Wastes. And some months after they met, well, I was hatched.
Straight after my birth, they both made a prophecy that I would be the Onyx Emperor, and rule the world. Over me they wove dread and ancient spells, ensuring that no man could ever kill me. After that they raised me together, and we had a happy family life, well, as happy as a scarlet-skinned and vaguely goat-like child with evil parents could have. They taught me their ways, and I became quite proficient in using my father's shapeshifting powers, and my mother's dark magic. When it was time, I left them in their dark ruins, and raised an unholy army to conquer the world.
This had the predictable result of a hero rising against me, as was prophesied. But no man could kill me, and I slaughtered countless brave knights, powerful wizards, and cunning thieves. Underneath my black hooves I crushed the crowned heads of the world. Again and again, heroes came. Time and time again, I corrupted them, slayed them, or broke them.
Then he came. Thin, slender, and fast. More agile than most thieves, more cunning than any wizard, a thin strong blade that cut through countless of my monstrous lieutenants better than any knight's sword. My vampiric wizards could not withstand this hero, nor could my Lichlords. And at long last, this hero, no, not merely a hero, but *The Hero* stood before me. As was prophesised, the great battle between the Onyx Emperor and the Hero. Yet I was not afraid.
After all, no man can kill me.
And The Hero, hidden beneath his cowl and cloak, spoke not a word as he entered my throne chamber. He said nothing as we battled through the vast halls of my obsidian citadel. He said nothing, as the thunder raged above us while we fought upon the roof of my innermost keep. He said nothing, until he finally managed to get his sword to pierce my chest, a strike aimed directly at my heart. Only to see the sword break before him. My armour might have been pierced and broken, though the goblin smiths assured me no mortal blade could break it. But my skin was impenetrable, for no man can kill me.
Which was when it all went wrong.
Instead of fleeing, instead of using spells, or pulling out his second sword, The Hero slowly went down on his knees. And began to cry. It was a most unexpectant sight, here atop the tallest spire of my dark citadel. As the storm raged above us, I slowly walked towards The Hero, worried deeply, that perhaps this was some sort of trick, some kind of ploy. But as I stood in front of him, he did nothing, except quietly sob. Slowly and ever so gently, I reached out my hand. No other who had tried to fight me had ever reacted like this. Some had begged, some had tried to use their fists, some had pulled out a new knife, some had even tried to splash me with holy water, which only works if you believe in the faith that made it. Nobody had ever just, well, broken down crying.
It was not a pleasant situation.
''**I do apologise for the broken rapier, Hero, but as you know, no man can kill me.**'' The Hero looked up, and underneath the cowl I saw into eyes that spoke of pain and hurt. Of a harrowed mind in a world that had shown no love at all towards them. Of a soul lost. Strangely from him, came an odd voice, tinged deeper than it seemed would be its normal tone. ''*I... First time. I am a man. They told me I wasn't. Told me I was wrong. Told me I was sick. Locked me up. First thing to ever respect me, demonic magic.*''
I sighed, and realised what this was. The realm of the dark forces cares little for who you want to be, and less for what you claim. Only your strength, your body, your will, and your ambition is respect. The rules and traditions found in the realms of the humans, are quite restrictive in comparison. The magic cast upon me at my birth is reflective of the soul, not the flesh. In the realm I rule, if you want something, you take it, do it, or make it. In the realms of kings, traditions, and churches, what you want, is rarely taken into account.
And the soul longs for recognition.
''**If it is any consolation, Hero, you are the first to lay a blade to my skin in this century.**'' Reaching down my enormous hand, I offered to help him stand up. ''**Let's go inside. I ain't as young as I used to be, and frankly, you cut all my warm armour off and it's fucking freezing in this storm.**'' The Hero grasped my enormous red hand, and stood up. I led him down into my library. A quiet place, where we could speak, as Hero and Conqueror. And the Hero, still crying silently, let me lead him there.
He explained that he had been raised in a small, very traditional, and rather stupid kingdom. He'd been angry at having to play at being who his parents had wanted him to be. He wanted to learn the ways of the blade, the riding on horseback, the thrill of fighting, of living. Not embroidery, not dancing, not reading romantic poetry about gallant knights and virtuous maidens. His parents hadn't approved. His brothers had not the heart to help. His sisters tormented him for his desires. But when most of his brothers, and his parents, were called away to fight me, he gained some freedom.
He learned fencing, he learned survival, he learned the offensive and violent type of magic. He learned how to be a man of his own heart, not the person he was expected to be, but the person he was. Yet still he was not respected, still he was called to wear uncomfortable dresses in shoes no sensible man could ever walk in. So he stole money from the royal treasury, took his rapier, and some travelling clothes, and went off to join the war against me. Brave of him, to speak so blatantly of his desire to slay me, so that people would finally respect him for who he was in the soul.
Yet I lived. And in irony, here at the dark heart of an evil empire, ruled by the half-breed offspring of a formless creature spawned in a land of fear, nightmares, and pestilence, and one of the most evil witches in history, did he find respect for who he was. When he was done telling his tale, I laid one of my enormous hands on his shoulder, covering most of it. ''**You are strong. Capable. And powerful. You have not broken to the wishes of others, nor have you bent to the whims of fate. I could use a man like you.**'' At those words the Hero's eyes beamed at me. ''**If they had no respect for you at home, I see no reason why you should fight for them. You are a man who deserves better, if you ask me. Of course, I respect that a prince of your status might not desire to work for the Onyx Emperor, Despoiler of Nations, Crusher of Weak Kings, Burner of Temples, and World-Conquering Master. If you desire something else, passage to distant lands, new weapons, armour repairs, I would gladly oblige a Hero who fought like a true man against me, though no man can kill me.**''
And the Hero, he looked for a moment at me with utter suspicion, but as he stared into my yellow goat-like eyes on my bald scarlet head, he understood that this was respect. He had fought like no other. More tenacity, more grit, more stubbornness, and guile than the best knights of an entire century. That strangely tinged voice ringed up again. ''*I would like to have some time to think about it.*'' I nodded and spent some of my considerable magical powers to heal the Hero's wounds before summoning my servants, having them prepare a guest-room for him.
As the Hero left, I stayed behind to ponder this fate bestowed upon a young prince. He could not return, but he could stay. Here he would be respected for his prowess and strength. Here, none would care who he was before, or why he should marry some inbred cousin to secure a weak throne, increasingly meaningless as I crush the weak, tiny nations underneath my iron goat-hooves. Perhaps the Hero will stay. Perhaps they will wander forever. But they now know that their soul is true to how they feel. They are a man to the core, and though flesh and bone might tell lies, the heart is ever true.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | # The Witch Who Weaves Pain
(Part 2: The Armor of Moulds)
(Note: The Witch Who Weaves Pain is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Maddy, the witch who'd assigned me to stopping the Split Knight, gave me a critical look.** Her gleaming golden wand, woven from the first rays of sunlight and the crow of a rooster, radiated wakefulness and energy that charged me up just by looking at it. She pointed towards the lone figure clad in metal that was half-black and half-white—an enchanted artifact, and one built of much higher-grade concepts than the ones I'd been used to.
"Tell me what you see," Maddy instructed me.
I scrutinized the figure on horseback. "Well, there's the armor. Forged from a concept, and a strong one. Gender roles, I think?" My Witch's Sight had been coming in lately—it helped me make sense of the Split Knight's enchanted armor. "I can see why they'd choose gender roles to forge armor from. Most men can't break gender roles; few men can even muster the willpower to try. Better yet, most men can't even comprehend its existence. Women have a better chance at it, but that's just because their gender roles are so *terrible* that they had to learn how in order to survive." I gave her a sour look. "So why the hell did you assign the only male witch in our coven—probably in the *world*—to stop this guy?"
Maddy's eyes twinkled. "Because you can."
"Yeah, but... you can too. Probably much more easily. Gender roles wouldn't defend against a concentrated sunbeam to the face, if fired by a witch." I gestured at her glimmering sunbeam wand.
My mentor laughed. "Of course. Which is good—if something goes wrong and you fail, I'll be there to bail you out."
I squinted at her. "What, you're not going to say that having a safety net makes me weak? 'The best work comes under pressure'?"
She shook her head. "That's more Althea's style. Besides." She laid a slender hand on my shoulder, her expression becoming solemn. "You've been through enough of life without a safety net. Under pressures I couldn't possibly comprehend."
The burn scars on my arms twinged, and I nodded. "...yeah. And a fat lot of good it did me."
Maddy smiled once more. "So I'm here to change that. You have your focus?"
I took a deep breath, concentrating on the concept I wanted to manifest. *Pain.* But not just any pain—the desolate, empty pain of someone who had lost all other ways to feel, the piercing of a needle through calloused skin, driven by a hand that forget anything else could make it feel alive.
From the scars on my arms, I drew an ensnaring web of dull grey barbed wire—something I could go months without tripping on before suddenly finding myself enmeshed knee-deep in it, every flailing and twisting only making my agony worse.
"Then go. I'll be watching if you need me—but I don't think you will." Maddie tapped her wand of dawnlight and, for a brief moment, *became* a shaft of sunbeams, glimmering at the speed of light.
Then she was gone.
I walked forward, my pain unspooling from my arms, to face a foe who built armor from the weights that had crushed me my entire life.
It didn't take long before the figure on horseback saw me and slowed; I was depressingly tall, and even though the wild grass my head stuck out like a glass shard from a drunken hand.
"You know," I shouted, "I don't have any personal quarrel with you. It's only because of three annoying old hags that I'm even facing you at all."
The knight tilted their head.
"I mean," I continued, "don't get me wrong—Maddy told me you were evil. Or that you're doing something evil. On your way to... be villainous somewhere. The king asked her to stop you; she fobbed that off on one of her apprentices instead; and, well, here I am. Fighting a fight that I wouldn't care about if it wasn't for one thing."
The knight drew a lance forged from the same black-and-white metal as their armor.
"You chose to wield something that has tried its damndest to strangle the life out of me as a *weapon*. And I have to stand against that." I touched the pain coming from my arms and with quick, nimble fingers twisted the barbed wire into a vicious, thorny whip—although it scratched and burned to touch, it was *my* agony. I was used to it by now. "So come on then. Let's see what you've got."
The knight held their lance up to shoulder height and nudged their horse with their boots, charging towards me.
I swung the whip with a flick of my wrist, and it cracked against the Split Knight's armor, sinking its teeth in and *squeezing*. Threads of agony snaked out of me and *into* the knight, and they made the first sound they'd made since we'd begun our battle: a scream of pure, unadulterated horror. I found something vicious within me taking schadenfreude at the pain of someone who *dared* to wield the source of my inner demons as their sword and shield. The knight scrambled at the thorny, almost organic vines of my pain, but every time they tried to cut or hack away at it, it only multiplied, feeding off the knight's enchanted armor. I grinned. "You see, once you've touched my pain, once you've *understood* it, it'll never let you go. Once you feel the pain the substrate you've built your oh-so-useful weapons out of have caused, that suffering will weigh you down and *crush* you where you stand."
Indeed, the thorny vines I'd conjured were multiplying, the total sum of all my pain and loss pit against a bastion of social inertia so concentrated it had turned into metal—and the vivacity of my pain was *winning*, multiplying and adapting faster than the cold, lifeless metal of the knight's armor.
"And there's a solution." I stepped forwards as the knight toppled off their horse, my strangling vines squeezing the armor around them so hard it crinkled inwards. "Such a simple solution. Take the armor off. I have no quarrel with *you*, just that abomination you use to protect yourself. Now that you feel my pain, now that it crushes you like it does me... step out of the armor. Put it away."
The knight formed a fist and swung at my face in defiance; I didn't even move to defend myself. Vines burst from their arm and slammed their fist back to the ground.
I stood up, shaking my head. "But you still think your armor will protect you."
The knight began to choke.
I nearly kept going, for a moment. I could have kept feeding the spell with my pain and darkness. It would have gone further, through the chinks in the armor, and touched the flesh beneath—then taken root there, too, driving tendrils and thorns into their body until my pain tore them apart—
I shook my head and ended the spell.
Weighed down, pressured, but still alive, I left the Split Knight fallen in the dirt where they belonged.
Then I turned around and started walking.
I had a sunrise to catch.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "The Witch Who Weaves Pain" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/me2rh3/the_witch_who_weaves_pain_masterpost/) for more information. | 2021-03-26T17:39:33 | 2021-03-26T17:37:18 | 222 | 23 |
[WP] A good friend that you grew up with dies, but a year after the funeral, no one remembers him (not even his parents) and all traces of his past life online are gone. You become determined to prove he existed. | "You're talking crazy" said Mr. Saul. "We never had a son named Steven. We have a daughter Briana, but never a son." "Mr. Saul how can you not remember?!" I yelled "He died last year! You and Mrs. Saul were bawling your eyes out and arranged a huge funeral and everything!" I said sternly. "Son, we're going to have to ask you to leave our home. You have come and ruined our family dinner, blabbering all this nonsense about us having a son and what not. Now please leave." said Mr. Saul. "NO!" I yelled. "God why is this happening? Why does no one remember Steven!" I screamed, crying. Mrs. Saul came to the door way and looked at me solemnly. "Honey you're not well. Go home and please leave us be" she said with a concerned tone. I couldn't believe this was happening. I broke down, crying, frustrated that over the past few days no one had any memory of Steven, not even his own parents. "You were seriously injured in that car accident Liam" said Mr. Saul. "You need to get checked out." "YOUR SON DIED IN THAT CAR CRASH AND YOU DON'T EVEN REMEMBER IT! WHAT KIND OF SHITTY PARENT ARE YOU?" I screamed, tears flowing from my face. "THAT"S IT! I"M CALLING THE POLICE!" yelled Mr. Saul. Then it hit me, "WAIT!" I yelled. "Before you call the cops and have me dragged a way to the looney bin, let me show you something." I pleaded. It had hit me. In my moment of fear and sadness, I had remembered something. "What?" said Mr. Saul harshly. "Please, let me inside. I can show you. Please, this will make me go away" Mr. and Mrs. Saul both looked at each other hesitantly, then let me inside. I rushed upstairs to Stevens room, which was now decorated as a guest room, and threw the mattress off the bed, and shoving the bed frame aside, crashing into the dresser. "What the fuck is your problem" yelled Mr. Saul. "Oh god, oh god, where is it?" I yelled, frantically trying to chip paint off of the base of the wall where the bed was. "You're out! Don't come back" yelled Saul as he attempted to drag me off the ground. Doing the only thing I could think of, I kicked the wall as hard as I could, making a shelf full of knick-knacks and baubles fall down. As the shelf fell to the ground directly below where the bed was, some paint chipped from the base of the wall. I caught a glimpse of it. Some black writing behind the paint. "There! There!" I screamed, pointing at the chipped paint. Mr. Saul crouched down and noticed it too. He started picking the paint away with his finger nail until he removed a decent portion of paint from the wall. There, written in faded black marker and young, childlike handwriting, were the words "Steven and Liam. Best friends forever. 9/3/93." | I couldn't believe this. How could his own father forget about his son? Micheal didn't just disappear, he had a funeral and everything. I just don't, ach, I don't understand. What happened?
"Mr Keel you have to remember something-"
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" He slammed the door behind me as I was violently pushed out onto the pavement.
"Call me if you remem-"
"FUCK OFF"
Well there goes that then. Another dead end. What was worse was I was no nearer to knowing what had even happened. I didn't even know when everyone had started forgetting about Micheal but I raised him to my mother one day and bam, she had no clue. Now I was wandering down a street hope-
Suddenly a black car pulled up next to me and a black man in a black suit got out. "Hello I'm Agent Jay, I was just wanting you to confirm something. Is this your friend Micheal?"
He pointed to an equally dressed man in a suit who- "MICHEAL! What the hell man? Where have you-"
"Could you look into this red light for me sir?"
"This red light? What? What does that-"
KADOOooo...
"Right sir you never had a friend called Micheal, you did not see him in this car and you did not see me either. You don't know any of his parents or relatives and as far as you are concerned they do not exist. You are a good man though, the reason you're here is because you were returning a lost cat you found to a nearby old woman. Good job Jacob"
"..."
The man in black got into the car and said to Micheal "Don't worry about it, happens every so often. You probably just had the setting on weeks instead of years." | 2014-06-13T20:49:58 | 2014-06-13T20:03:33 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] When humans arrived to the galactic scene, they thought wars would play out way differently. Instead of bloodshed, there were intergalactic video game tournaments fighting for territory. Most aliens thought humans were newbies to this but when the first war was played, they changed their minds. | YOU DIED.
The runes appeared in (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE)'s mind. They translated easily. The entity frowned mentally. Failure. Embarrassment. A slew of unfamiliar chemicals surged. They had created a warrior of pure might, or STR the Humans called it. Defence was uneeded. Overwhelming power always prevailed. Even though they only had, *cellular ripple*, Human forms to choose from they had designed the greatest looking Human possible. It had taken bloody hours. The avatar's questing had yielded a mighty weapon, a blade of such proportions it required two Human appendages to wield. The only requirement of this battle was to outlive the opponent. Victory was assured.
Alas, after pausing to admire a grand visage of Earth, perhaps to gain some insight into the Human mind, but secretly because Earth was just so beautiful, (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) succumbed to a cowardly rear assault. The endoskeleton of a deceased Human had plowed into them with a ridiculous spinning attack, sending (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE)'s avatar plumetting off a dire cliff. What a stupid, dishonorable attack, *cellular ripple*. Such a dumb battle sim.
His opponent's battle feed synchronised. A young Human warrior known as Josh. (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) wondered what the title of Josh meant to Humans. The "boy" had reached the final creature, known as a boss, and was engaging. (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) had already lost the bout but was taking no small amount of satisfaction from the puny equipment the human was wielding. A tiny round shield and a weapon that resembled a stick. Such inexperience.
The boss launched it's attack first, it's blade bigger than itself, as is tradition and........CLANG.... the Human managed to defect the blow with the film of metal that passed for a shield. But it did not even counterattack. The avatar spun around, changed all it's trinkets of power and warding, *then* attacked, removing a sliver of health from the boss. This continued again and again, flawlessly.
(THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) began to release a gas to cool it's over heating mass. You didn't need to be spawned in the Big Bang to know the Human was mocking it. No, (THOSERELEASEDINTHEFIRSTOFENERGIES) had been around for a while. In this contest of millions of simulated battles across millions of worlds, dimensions, and platforms the Humans were rapidly climbing the ranks. And then some. The newly dubbed (JOSHTAUNTEROFUNSEENEYES) proceeded to the next level while (THESMELLOFSTARSANDCOSMICNOISE) was unceremoniously flushed from it's planet sized habitat tube into open space, left to propel itself home, ashamed and alone.
*cellular ripple*
Edit: the cellular ripple is the best I could come up with for some ancient cthonian creature sighing. | The Multi Dimensional arena that could only be described as a Galactical Colloseum was silent to the deepest corners of the abyss. They had just now realized the weight of their mistake to let the Earthlings choose what "video game" they were going to "play". The ritual to be executed of a name that was unaudible gibberish to the Cosmic Team was simple. (I'm leaving the game description out because it was basically gonna be a fictional League of Legends Copy) The intergalactical powerhouse that was translated to a primitive language was called "Cosmic Calamity". They were without question, the dominating steel fist of the alien armada. The game had started already about 15 minutes ago. The entirety of the cosmic state was only here for entertainment and to see humiliation. But to everyone's suprise, the humiliated ones were actually the CC. It was impossible. The odds were stacked against the Humans from the very beginning. CC had gone through countless simulations in countless dimensions, trying to predict every single one of the humans moves and mericlessly outplaying them. The aliens had positioned themselves perfectly to counter strategies thst every decent team would play. But to their suprise, it was not the case. The Humans had played so simply, so simple mindedly that it was hard to believe. Who dared stand against the Kings of the arena? To the aliens, anyone who even dared to imagine fighting against CC had to be one of the best. And they were right and wrong at the same time. The humans played so simply, that none of the aliens could predict it. They had practiced countering the most complex plays and strategies, that they were absolutely smited by the simplicity of the humans. In mere minutes the humans ran down the aliens' Resource Core. | 2018-04-13T20:38:42 | 2018-04-13T18:30:12 | 54 | 18 |
[WP] In the near future, the secret to time travel has been discovered - in order to travel back into the past there needs to be a 'receiving station' at the other end - explaining why nobody from the future has been observed up 'til now. The first such 'station' is about to be completed.
This prompt was spurred by a remark by Stephen Fry in the BBC series QI, in which he mentioned this concept. I like the idea of the first 'receiving station' being completed, thereby marking the earliest point in time it'll ever be possible to travel back to. I like the idea of people gathering round the machine as the 'on' switch is thrown, waiting to see who or what will emerge. | There were millions of people gathered on the wide flat plains of the Mojave Desert. Most of them were too far from the machine to see more than a tiny glimmer of the sun reflecting off of the three stories of shining steel. But that was enough for most people; they just wanted to be present for the end of time. That's what scientists were calling it, at least: just as air travel had practically erased global borders, so too would this machine create one timeless society.
Priests, rabbis, imams, and monks wandered the grounds, administering services to those who wanted it. Somehow religions had really latched on to the phenomenon, and churches had brought in congregants by the busload. Many of them expected the first arrival to be the Second Coming of Christ. Others were just there for the party: College kids were treating it like spring break, and there was booze and loud music aplenty. Still other visitors were quiet suburban families, bringing the kids and the dog for an outing. Whatever their reason, they were all there to witness time travel become a reality and see first-hand as visitors stepped out from the future. Helicopters hovered overhead, alternating between shots of the vast, endless crowd and the machine mounted on its pedestal in the very center of the throng.
President DeWitt strode onto the stage, wearing a formal three-piece suit despite the oppressive heat of the desert. "Ladies and gentlemen," his voice blared from the thousands of speakers that littered the valley, "We are going to begin powering up the device." Millions of solar cells shifted in unison to catch the sun, and a high-pitched hum emitted from the machine. A deafening roar of cheering and clapping erupted from the crowd, so loud that the machine could hardly be heard over the din.
Team of scientists scuttled all over the device like ants picking apart a carcass. It had taken a Manhattan-Project-style effort to create it, and they all wanted to be there to see the results of their baby. Lights flashed, all green. The President's hand hovered over the button that would open the portal once and for all; he'd insisted that it be finished before his term was finished for this very reason: he wanted to be the one that turned it on. He wanted his face to be forever emblazoned in history books, if such a thing would even exist after this.
The scientists around the platform flashed thumbs up in unison, all smiles. "All right," DeWitt announced to the crowd. "Final tests are completed, and everything is ready!" A deafening roar came from the crowd once again, and DeWitt turned back to his podium. Thousands of news cameras from every country in the world tracked his every move. A thousand more were trained on the metal ring where the portal would suddenly open.
"This is mankind's greatest leap yet," he announced into the microphone on his lapel, "And this is only the beginning for us!" He wasn't feeling too great about the line that had been chosen, but apparently that was the one that focus groups liked the most. Hearkening back to the moon landing and whatnot.
He pressed the button emphatically with a perfectly photogenic grin. The cameras all clicked in unison, then immediately forgot about him as the cameramen all turned toward the portal. They just wanted to see what would happen.
Just as the scientists had predicted, there was a haze of blue hovering in the center of the metal ring. Something about electrons being separated from their particles or something; DeWitt had tended to glaze over those details in the briefings. He wasn't much of a scientist and didn't particularly care how it worked so long as it *did* work. He crossed the stage, ready to shake the hand of the first visitor from the future. The crowd in the desert was *completely* silent, an impressive effort for *millions* of people.
A scrap of paper came drifting through the portal. No person followed it through, and the world just watched as the paper floated down to the floor like a feather in the wind. President DeWitt saw it fall, but didn't stoop to get it for fear that some time traveler would come through and he'd miss that big photo op of striding forward and greeting him or her. But no one ever came through. After a minute or so of waiting, he finally stepped forward and retrieved the note.
"Destroy the machine immediately," he read aloud, forgetting that his microphone was still wired to the speakers and being broadcast to the entire planet. | Dr. Hyrum Landers inspected his machine one last time. It resembled a shower stall, but out of place in the lab surrounded by computers and tables of electronic components. Hyrum had a mix of excitement and terror of his face as he completed his assessment.
"This is it," he said under his breath. He opened the shower door and rotated the faucet, resulting in a steady flow of steamy water spraying from the shower head. Upon closing the door, the clear translucent covering began to light up with a captivating bluish glow.
The lights in the lab flickered as the blue light from the shower machine created a surreal performance one might expect in a Broadway show. A moment later, the blue light faded and the room's lights returned to normal.
Hyrum gasped when he noticed a previously unseen shadow within the shower stall. The door opened slowly, a burst of steam escaping quickly and revealing a soaking wet older gentleman staring back at him. Dr. Landers had to fight to regain his composure when he realized he was looking at an older version of himself.
"Hello, Hyrum," the older man said, brushing the wetness from his hair and clothes. "Yes, I'm you."
"H-how did you know what I would ask?" asked the young Hyrum Landers. Almost immediately he slapped his forehead with his palm. "What a silly question," he corrected himself.
The older man chuckled. "Don't bother with any more questions," he said. "You'll understand more than you could ever imagine shortly."
Young Hyrum raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Old Hyrum sighed. "What did I just say?" he blurted. He pulled out a strange cylindrical gadget from his pocket, which had a tube on either end. Before the younger man could react, a suction cup on the end was shoved onto his head, and the other end placed on the old man's. A moment later he understood.
The young man looked down at the fallen body of the old man. "Ah, it's nice to be young again," he said laughing.
---
Check out /r/MajorParadox! I have more time travel: [1](https://www.reddit.com/r/MajorParadox/comments/2uxyp5/ending_at_the_beginning_250_words/), [2](https://www.reddit.com/r/MajorParadox/comments/2uy2h3/modern_day_290_words/), [3](https://www.reddit.com/r/MajorParadox/comments/3p2roi/time_and_retime/), [4](https://www.reddit.com/r/MajorParadox/comments/40vqau/existence/), [5](https://www.reddit.com/r/MajorParadox/comments/426gyj/message_from_the_future/), and of course my [BTTF](https://www.reddit.com/r/MajorParadox/comments/2uy3sf/back_to_the_real_future_part_i_1299_words/) 3-parter. Plenty of non-time travel too. Enjoy! | 2016-02-01T07:34:44 | 2016-02-01T06:45:04 | 92 | 67 |
[WP] Adults and children are separated into two dimensions. When a baby is born, it is sent to the "kid" dimension, and will only rejoin the adults when it turns 18. A mother and father are anxiously waiting for their child's 18th birthday tomorrow.
Can't take credit for the basic idea, I got it from a Young Justice episode! I'm interested in what the dynamic of the world would be if the whole kid/adult separation stayed permanent.
Edit: Wow, what a response! Everyone please go watch Young Justice on Netflix so it gets uncanceled (shameless plug). Great stories y'all!! | "We've done so little planning for this," grumbled Stacy, letting the phone in her hand fall into her lap as she looked up at the dingy lights of the reception office. "What do you mean?" asked Robert, perking up inquisitively. "We have the new car they suggested we get for him, and we have three weeks of vacation to help him settle in and re-orient ourselves."
Stacy still looked anxious. "Look," said Robert, shifting his position and tone towards his wife, "How many books did you read just to understand what to do? You have your own section in our library just for this day! You decorated his room, stocked the pantry, bought clothes...I don't see anything that you've missed."
"I don't know, Robert. It's just too real now. I don't know if we know what we're getting into here. Do you know what every single one of those books agreed on? They all said the kids never talk about it. They all said that you just don't know what kind of personality you'll get. That wasn't such a big deal before, back when we decided to go for a kid, but..."
"Stacy, you gotta remember that we were there too! And look how we are now: waiting for our own kid, waiting for our own little Robert."
Stacy chuckled. "Don't be such a narcissist," she said smiling, immediately returning to the matter at hand. "I get that it's just how things work, but why can't we remember what that dimension was like?"
"I guess you already have the answer," said Robert, "'The two minds in each dimension are separate in their exact memories but equal in affects.' Or at least, that's how one of the books you bought put it." This particular idea seemed to trouble Robert the most.
"Stacy and Robert?"
The couple looked up to find a man in a sharp black suit and dark green tie standing before them. "That's us," said Robert as Stacy gathered her coat.
"Why don't you come this way. I have some important information I need to give you before you meet..." He glanced down at his clipboard. "...Robby."
Stacy glanced at her husband before following the man through the doorway into a vast set of hallways. The couple hardly remembered any of it as the suited man rocket-fired much of the guidelines which Stacy had already read about a hundred times over. They then reached a large wooden double-doorway. Here the suited man turned around and took on a different tone.
"There have been some new developments recently. A lot of the children we've received are in very bad shape. Physically they should be fine, but mentally many of them are rather distanced. Don't be scared though. You will be the first adults they meet here in this dimension, so you'll immediately be able to establish a bond of trust." The man looked back and forth between the pair. "Can you do that?"
Each of them let out a discomforted, "Yes," before the suited man stepped back and opened the door. Stacy was wearing her best smile, but the warning had eroded what little confidence Robert had in this endeavor.
The room was set out to be the living area of a mansion, with a beautiful bear-skin rug draped across the hard-wood floor which changed to stone in front of the calm fireplace. Despite the beauty of the room, Stacy and Robert found their son standing directly in front of the small window looking out into the parking lot. He was dressed in a simple white outfit with short uniform hair. As soon as the door opened, he turned towards the couple. Immediately he began walking towards them.
"Hello Robby," was all Stacy could say before her son brushed past her and Robert with haste. The pair turned around in shock. The suited man, having only just begun to exit, turned around to find the boy running at him at full speed. It was only then that the couple saw the boy's full figure and immense strength.
The boy grabbed the suited man and spun him back around towards Stacy and Robert, giving both a full view as their son placed a firm knee atop the chest of the man, grabbing a handful of hair in his fingers as he stooped to his level. Robert began rushing to help the suited man, but stopped when he saw a peculiar marking on the boy's arm. It was an army division.
The boy looked directly into the startled eyes of the suited man as he gave a commanding, yet desperate plea:
"Take me back. Now."
--------------------------
This is my first submission to /r/writingprompts, so please tell me what you think!
| "Honey, we need to hurry or we're going to be late" Marcy shouted from the bathroom. "Yea, as if they're going to bring him back before we get there? You know they can't do that." I stated from the bed as i fought with my pants. All that binge eating the last month is now starting to show results. We both had been so anxious to see our son all grown up now. He was one of the first groups to go into the newly designed DEFP, or the Dimensional Exchange Foster Program. It was a new age take on child development.
Humans have been traveling between dimensions for decades now. The planet was falling apart, fossil fuels had been exhausted and resources were dwindling to near nothing. The world was in a panic as even the lower middle class could no longer even afford the basic necessities of life. People were dying of starvation in the streets as food prices had skyrocketed in just 8 years. A gallon of milk going from $4 a gallon to $50 meant people were going without alot. Even giving up every shred of luxury most could no longer afford to eat. Then one day a low key NASA scientist testing a theory for faster space travel accidentally discovered a way to travel between dimensions and the rest is history. We already have several earth sister planets supporting our current one. We simply travel between them for what we need. EarthII was the first we discovered after months of searching, completely lush and able to farm and produce more animals to support the population. It's been a utopia ever since. Some we mine, others we vacation at.
But this also presented a new problem. Not enough workers. We had grown so much and so fast, work had become over abundant. Due to a recovering economy, companies couldn't afford higher wages, so the solution was simple. Develop a program from birth to age 18 to teach the children everything they need to know using a hands on work approach, while giving the parents the ease of mind of not having to rear a child. Which allowed them more free time to work. It was a sacrifice many were willing to make, and after the law passed that allowed a trial phase, after 18 years, we are finally able to see our son again.
We arrive to a rather unassuming building. It looked more like a warehouse. After spending over an hour doing paperwork we were finally led to giant room with a huge machine in it. No doubt the device that opened the gateway. We couldn't even sit we were so excited. The tech activated the machine, whic h started with a loud cracking sound that drifted into a low hum, almost like a lullaby. Just seconds after activation, the technician radioed through to the man on the other side and a young man walked through, almost as if the air was made of fluid.
My wife and I stared in awe. But not because this was the first time seeing him. "I'd like to introduce your son, Michael" the Technician announced.
That is when I realized we made the biggest mistake of our lives.
"Uhm, that isn't our son".
The tech didn't even flinch. He just held the radio up to his mouth "Jim, it happened again. This is going to be a long day". | 2016-03-03T18:09:50 | 2016-03-03T17:13:39 | 104 | 54 |
[WP]Their cells are literally slowly burning, they sustain themselves on a corrosive liquid, and they ingest poisons and toxins for fun, no to mention they can become several times stronger under stress. So no, we are **NOT** going to the human planet. | "Well, to be entirely accurate," the robed scientist overhearing the conversation said, "They don't get stronger in the normal sense. Instead, their bodies simply remove the inhibitors that limit their strength under normal circumstances."
"Hold up," the leader of the group said, "Are you implying they are always that strong? Why don't they use that strength all the time, then?"
"Because of stress," the scientist replied, "Their tissue would rip itself off their bones if they exerted that much force for too long, so they can only do it under extreme circumstances."
"That... is way more terrifying," the leader said, "But at least they can't control it, can they?"
"Most can't, no," the scientist said, then threw back his hood, "But I can." Panic broke out, and everyone aimed their weapons at the human who had been posing as their researcher.
"Who are you, and where is our scientist?" the leader demanded to know.
"I'm right here," the scientist replied, "You guys are an interesting bunch, to be honest. Learning your language was also really fun. Anyway, are you sure you won't go to my planet? I'd really like to go back home. I haven't seen my family in a year."
"How did you even get on board?" the leader asked.
"You kinda picked me up a while ago," the scientist answered.
"Alright, fine, you win," the leader said, and sighed, "What are your demands?"
"Demands?" the scientist asked.
"Yes," the leader answered, "You infiltrated our ship, assumed a role in our ranks, and remained hidden for quite some time. By intergalactic law, you have bested us in one of the recognized forms of warfare. So, what are your demands?"
"Well, if you insist," the scientist said, "Go to my planet, and let me handle negotiations with the world leaders."
"Alright," the leader said. The spaceship set course to Earth, and the scientist represented the aliens before the united nations, being the only one who could translate. Deals were made, technology and resources were exchanged, and within a decade, humanity went from crawling in the dirt of its crib to running through the sky with the other civilizations. | "Mum," asked young Vhithelbh, stretching his tentacles in idle pleasure, "why can't we go to the human planet?"
"Their cells burn as we speak. They drink corrosive liquids, and eat toxins in leisure. Not even mentioning how they're enhanced under stress. We will not be going to the human planet, not ever. Do you have a death wish, boy?" Zerga said.
"B-but why?"
"No, boy." she replied. "We steal from the plankton of this planet, and haven't had a good sacrifice in years. And those humans are many, while we are few. Vhithelbh, get out of my sight. Perhaps I'll let you return in a few days."
The young monstrosity fled the abandoned structure, likely to annoy the subordinates to no end. She relaxed in the liquid and began a meditative trance. | 2022-03-13T07:50:39 | 2022-03-13T07:25:51 | 113 | 30 |
[WP] In a medieval fantasy world, your peers have summoned all sorts of fantastic beasts from another world. And you called a tank from the Second World War. | The rest of the class could only look on in stunned silence at the behemoth that now rested in the middle of the room. It’s apparition caused clouds of dust to billow from the rafters, and its great weight had cracked the floor. Someone’s cough broke the spell and all eyes turned to the small, bespectacled human girl in the summoning circle.
The wizardess instructor shouted “Mia! What did you do you stupid girl? The exercise was to summon rodents! What is the meaning of this!” Her voice cracked between shock, bewilderment, and fear as she lambasted the girl.
Mia quailed under the furious gaze of her instructor and the fear of her classmates. She was the only human present, and the only youth. The rest of the elves and gnomes present were closer in age to her parents than to her. It was only because her father was the Prime Chronomancer that she had even been permitted attendance to the prestigious Acadamie Arcana. The scorn directed at her by her nominal peers about her race, her age, and her magical aptitude had battered Mia’s spirit and confidence.
Mia was slow to respond, clearing her throat a few times as she slowly sank to the floor under the weight of so many hostile glares. “I... I...”
“Out with it girl!” snapped the matron.
Mia broke down into tears and sobbed, stuttering out “I was *hic* trying to summon a mouse, *hic* just, just like you said. And. And *hic* I saw Initiate Arleth’s *hic* ferret-drake bite *hic* the cute flying squirrel that Marleia s-summoned. An an an and I I I just wanted to summon the biggest mouse I could *hic* I could find. I *hic* I didn’t know he’d be so big.”
The matron looked from the small girl to the massive object in the room wondering how this... thing... could possibly have latched onto a spell searching out a rodent. The only clue she had was the hand-span tall runes adorning the side:
MAUS | The idea had seemed so obvious when that old lady had suggested it. Summon a weapon from another world. The virtues of science would trump magic, she said. That the "tank" was a foreign object would help, she said.
It didn't. It completely didn't.
Learning to drive the machine took hours. Meanwhile, the other students already knew how to manage their personal beasts from weeks of study, and spent that time building their skills.
Traveling with the war machine turned into another problem. The practice round had almost depleted whatever fuel it used, while many other students were full magical strength or nearly there.
Fighting with the tank was the last challenge. It certainly had a lot of power, but a full-grown dragon had that too and more mobility besides. | 2021-08-29T08:42:20 | 2021-08-29T06:17:24 | 94 | 43 |
[WP] A week ago, your daughter asked you to prepare some real cookies and tea for a tea party today, with her and her new imaginary friend. When you bring the tray in the room, across from her sits an Eldritch Horror, sitting politely, who winks at you. | "I-I thought it'd be someone from school, dear," I stuttered quietly, having taken her to the hall.
I had been overjoyed when Chelsea said someone was coming over. She's had such terrible trouble making friends, and with her mother having passed when she was still a baby, I was afraid that I was not of much use in helping her fit in with the other girls, even after the countless hundreds I lost on parenting books.
I spent the whole week making sure everything was perfect, giving the house a nice and well needed sprucing up.
The house? Spotless.
The cookies? Sizzlin'.
The tea? Brewed. Had to break out mama's old cookbook for it, but if the past seven brews said anything, it was that I had finally perfected the recipe.
I even cracked out the good China, just for my little girl.
BY GOD, CHELSEA WILL HAVE THE BEST TEA PARTY EVER!
"Does he at least have a name?"
I was certainly surprised when I found she brought home a 'he' for tea, but I nearly filled my trousers when I actually saw him.
"He told it to me once, but it was really long and really hard to pronow.... prono... "
"Pronounce, sweetie."
"That's it! But he told me it was fine and that we can just call him Max."
I slowly peered around the corner at Max, who waved with a fluorescent blue tentacle and winked with one of his many eyes. He was quite dapper in the black suit he wore, which I found strange considering what he was and how young I hoped he was, though he was a bit taller than her.
The corners of my vision went foggy, and I could feel something scratching from the inside of my head the more I looked at him. I turned back to Chelsea.
"How'd you two meet?"
"Some mean girls wanted to show me something they saw by the creek, but it was Max. They tried to push me in, but he caught me and made them go away."
I get the feeling he made them vanish more than anything, and I felt a shiver go down my spine.
"So he helped you?"
"Uh huh."
I looked back at Max, that scratching coming back. I took my glasses off and looked back at him, the fog and scratching barely even there as I stared at him with blurry vision.
Take that Lovecraft!
I could make out Max sipping on some tea, his tentacle jutted out in an imitation of a raised pinky, before he set the teacup down gently on the platter. He waved again, his facial tentacles curling up in what I could only assume to be a smile.
"He's certainly quite the gentleman."
I looked back at my daughter, seeing her pleading eyes as she awaited my response.
Considering she was still sane after meeting an elderitch deity, and that he had helped her...
I mean, yeah, he did make some girls disappear from existence probably, but he seemed to be quite alright. Besides, he might disappear me as well if I boot him.
But was I really gonna let my daughter be friends with something that can alter reality so easily, that could reshape the world in an instant, that could keep her safe with ease, that could... could bring...
...
Fuck yes I would. | "Daaaaaaaaaddy! Are the cookies done yet?!"
"Almost," I call up, gingerly picking out the cookie sheet with my claws; even with oven mitts it's hot as hell. Granted, I use hellflames in my cooking, but that's beside the point.
"Good! Mr. Pickles is getting impatient!"
*Not like he exists, so he can't get impatient,* I thought, scuttling through the halls of my undersea palace towards my daughter's bedchambers. Being the God of all Crab Kind does have it perks. Still, maybe I should move someplace smaller...
"Cookies are-" I begin. I freeze once I see that she is not, in fact, alone.
An unfathomable horror sits across from her, some nameless Outer God incarnate. Its head turns to me, and despite the fact that it has a mass of eyes in place of an ordinary face, it looks rather chagrin.
"Erm..."
"This is Mr. Pickles, daddy!" my daughter exclaims, clicking her claws excitedly. "He's really nice!"
I turn my crabby gaze onto the Outer God. "Care to explain?"
It sighs and shrugs with its many limbs. "She's the only entity that's been nice to me lately. All the other Outer Gods bully me."
I... well, I don't have brows to furrow, but if I had them I would. "Hm... you're sure you aren't here to spread chaos and destruction? I like this planet, I don't want some eldritch abomination mucking it up. Because I can tell you're a child Great One, so you're good on that front."
"I'm really not interested," it says. I stare closely at it, trying to discern its intentions, then nod as best a crab can.
"Yeah, you check out. Nice to meet you, Mr. Pickles. Hope you like chocolate chip." | 2020-09-20T16:06:33 | 2020-09-20T15:18:50 | 15 | 11 |
[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. | Leslie Tanner, 21
Cause of death: Accident
The name appears on the leather-bound notebook I am carrying, and like any other day it was time to commence my duty.
In case you are wondering, that’s vague! What kind of accident? We haven’t got a clue and thats why we are there to shadow them, guide them forward in death and update the records in Hell.
Just like in the human world, grim reaper is a job, and many of us here would take on any jobs. The problem comes when someone decides to not turn up for work.
Thats when the natural order get messed up, people don’t die on the day they are supposed to. I mean, not in the scenario of nothing bad happens to them.
They might literally be in pain and agony without the relief of death. As one would expect, hospitals are kinda like going to the shopping mall nearby your house. You’d frequent it almost daily, or at least stroll pass it.
I was on an order..
Leslie Tanner, 21.
An accident, a human error. I stood by and watched as the Nurses fed her an extra dose of medicine than she was supposed to take. I watched her foam, and led her over the the other side.
Sometimes they are not willing to leave quietly, but thats why we wear this outfit to make them afraid.
I passed by the ward of a young girl, probably around 7 years old，and noticed the dazzling, glitchy and blurry number on her head.
-217
Thats 217 days more than she should have been alive. Tubes were poking into and out of her body, every breath she took looked excruciating and no one was there for her.
Thats 217 days of pain that could have been ended if someone was doing their job.
It was against the rules to steal someone’s soul or deliver it for them. But her guardian is long gone, a fugitive of Hell gone hiding.
I wish so much to be able to help, yet if I do... I may never be able to redeem myself and reincarnate. It is against the rules... i might simple cease to exist
Looking at her reminded me of myself, grim reapers are a product of one taking their own life. When I did take mine, my guardian did not come. He was not allowed to for 100 days as part of the punishment.
Looking at her made me remember that 100 days.
Maybe.. for her.. I will do it
—-
[Edited] | 2018-05-23T09:41:27 | 2018-05-23T09:26:18 | 83 | 26 |
[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. | "Hey, *bitch*!"
His booted foot slammed into the side of my face, forcing me into the ground. It hurt like hell. I screamed in pain, despite knowing full well this wouldn't last forever. I cradled my jaw in my hand, struggling to get back up to my knees. I got a glimpse of the man beating me. His name was Cody.
It looked like this was it.
Cody drew a pocket knife, knelt down, and put it up to my wrist. "Why don't you tell me why I shouldn't lay waste to you right this moment? Give me any reason. Beg, grovel, do something, bitch! Don't just take this! Why did you rat on us?! I thought we were tight!"
He wasn't lying. I was best friends with these guys, up until went through an unspeakable deed. Murder and assault, alright. Theft, whatever. I stood by and nursed all their wounds, knowing I wouldn't ever get a normal life until their entire generation died out.
Then they resorted to arson. A family of three were burned at their hands, along with their house and possessions. I couldn't let this happen.
"B-Because...you burned children," I muttered, barely finding the strength in myself to speak. I hit my jaw with the side of my fist, cracking it back into place. It would heal in a matter of moments.
"Seriously!? You were okay with all the other dirty stuff!" Cody raised the knife. This was it. Here it came.
&#x200B;
"Cody, the fuck you doin'?" A lighter voice came from behind. I recognized him instantly. After all, he's the one that took me from my old job as a nurse to aid their wounded. Jacques Allard was his name.
"Dealing with scum, what'chu talking about?" Cody laughed, pricking my wrist with his knife. I winced.
"She's betrayed us, remember? Just because she was our medic doesn't make her any more special." His footsteps rang through the old bar we called a home. A hand touched my cheek and forced me into his direction. I stared into Allard's eyes. For the first time in twenty years, I felt true *fear.*
My heart pounded in my chest.
"Julia," he uttered, softly. There was anguish in Allard's voice. "Why?"
I was seething inside. My throat choked up, and I could feel my eyes stain with tears. "Y-You burned children."
"Future murderers! What part of that don't you realize?" Allard snapped, striking me square in the nose. My head recoiled back, hitting the table. My vision began to blur. I tried to speak again, but Allard didn't wait. He struck me again.
Then again.
..
Then again.
.
.
Then again.
(PART I) | 300 years can be a lonck time. Even if you're already well above 30.000 years old. The symptoms get even wohrse, when you're forced to do nothing all day. I had been in prison before. Back then during the French revolution and a couple of times before that. It can be annoying to be kept in between blocs of cement, but it is even worse if you have a bloc of cement on your feet. And even worse, if you're sitting in a lac all day and night, doing night.
But boy you should have seen the face of the guy finding me down there. I guess back then in the 2018s they would have been mortified to find a living person down there breathing wahter, but I guess things have changed. Must have been klimate change and klobal warming and all that other jazz that people refused to believe for a while.
Anyway, there I am, sitting and waiting like the past 300 years, when all of a sudden Kevin Costner swims past. Full mutation style with gills and fins between his toes. And boy was he angry. He probably thought I'm stealing his dirt or something. He even thinks this bloc of cement is some sort of old school potting mix or something. He gets out his knife and puts it directly in between my rip cage before he swims off again.
Well, I guess I have to waiht for another 300 years or so. | 2018-11-24T11:03:28 | 2018-11-24T09:11:23 | 270 | 112 |
[WP] "And how many claws does Stewie have?" you ask your daughter as you consult the list your mother gave you. You need to figure out if your daughter's invisible friend is a monster, demon, or fairy and if you have to kill it to save her. | _When I grow up, I want to be a monster catcher, just like my daddy._
He lowered the crayon drawing. Weariness crawled over his limbs, sinking into his muscles, his veins. His eyelids slid shut. The desk lamp glowed fiercely, burning his pupils anyhow.
_"And how many claws does Stewie have?"_
_"He doesn't have claws, Daddy."_
_"No claws?"_
_"No, Daddy. He's like the monster you caught at the grocery store."_
His eyes fluttered back open and locked with the screen of his desktop computer before him. Displayed there in brilliant blue pixels was the story: **SOUTHERN DEVILS CATCH VAGRANT SPIRIT IN SUBURBAN SUPERMARKET.**
It wasn't glorious work, but boy, did the papers make it out to seem that way. It was almost beginning to fool him. It definitely had his daughter fooled.
_"I want to be a hero, like you."_
_"Like me?"_
_"Like you, Daddy. Catchin' all the demons, and lockin' them up, and makin' sure they don't hurt anybody anymore."_
Before, when his own Pa had worked, their small family company had been mostly known by the locals around southern California. And then suddenly, there were spirits everywhere, and The Southern Devils and Co. had become one of the largest spirit pest control units in the northern hemisphere. Their holding stables had quadrupled in size. The staff on the ranch had ballooned. Equipment for quicker more precise round-ups had been added to their inventory. Together, they could locate, lure, trap, and herd a demon in under two hours.
It was tedious work, dangerous work. _But glorious, 'patriotic' work? Really?_ He scoffed at the article.
_"I wanna save all the people, just like you did."_
It pained him, to hear her say those things. Little Isabella. Beautiful Isabella. She had chosen ballet for her extra-curricular sport although she hadn't seemed as interested in the fluff and frills as the other seven-year-olds had. She was immersed in the ranch. Fair enough. She had grown up there: clinging to the back of the pick-ups as they pulled in another catch, hanging off the end of the corral fences and observing the spirits roam and pulse. She had grown up with dirt, dust, and demons. It wouldn't be fair for him to ask her to aspire to anything different.
_"So, I'm catching Stewie."_ She had been playing another game of pretend that afternoon, still dressed in her school clothes. She had a long stick, a replica of the staying-gun he himself carried when on call. _"And Stewie is a bad, bad demon."_
She had been running around the yard, throwing herself off the porch, yelling instructions to the dogs, sprinting off to the nearby barn, where some of the real, major demons were housed. He couldn't deny her natural talent. She was comfortable around the creatures. She didn't baulk or hesitate as some new trainees did. She could read their writhing bodies, handle their spontaneous bursts of energy and twitching movements.
_"What about working in the city?"_ He would gently remind her. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, implore her to be something different, play a different imaginary game. _Don't you understand? This profession took your mother. I'm only trying to save you._ But she only blinked endearingly at him. Her small hand would pat his arm.
_"Daddy, I don't want to work in the city anymore. I want to stay out here, on the ranch, with you, and catch monsters."_
He watched her play round-up with the imaginary "Stewie". Inside, he had grieved.
And now, staring down at this crayon drawing in his untidy, cramped little office, he felt as if his heart was breaking. The picture was simple: him, her, and both of them sporting lasso-guns, pointed at a horrible, sprawling mass of black and purple crayon lines. And a third figure, standing behind the dark cloud, drawn with light, almost sceptical colours. A scrawled name and an arrow: MOMMY.
_"I will save all the Mommies in the world, Daddy. Just like the ones you saved at the supermarket. I will do it, Daddy. I will be just like you."_ | Winds howled around the Mond castle. It stood on a cliff's edge and was framed by the full moon. Inside, the castle was reworked into a cluster of apartments that could be rented. In one such apartment Catherine tried to get a handle on the imaginary friend Julia, her daughter, spent most of her time with. Catherine had never seen the friend and the stories Julia told her now concerned her. Something told her that this new friend was not too well put together.
"Where did you say you saw her last?" she asked the little girl who tried to roll her spaghetti around on the fork as she'd seen people do on TV.
"Who?"
"The friend you keep telling stories of."
"Hmmm..." she ate whatever spaghetti her fork could scoop out. "It was the tennis court."
"Tennis court?"
"Mrs. Agnew lives there."
Catherine tried to recall the list of questions that now lay folded on the top of the dresser. She tried to recall what meeting someone in a sports setting might mean, but her memory failed her. She made a mental note of the tennis court.
"How was she?"
"She?"
"She. Your friend."
"My friend isn't a 'she'."
Isn't a she, Catherine made a mental note of that. Couldn't be a banshee, or a resentful mother then. Catherine herself had created much of a ruckus in the country when she was but a child. Haunted, no, befriended, by a banshee she had screamed her lungs out. It was then that her mother obtained the questionnaire from Mrs. Flanders.
"Ah, it's a boy, then."
Julia scrunched up her nose and glared at her mother from under her little black eyebrows. Catherine noted the hostility. Surely, it couldn't be anything good.
"Boy? No."
Catherine didn't blink. The winds howled louder around the Mond castle. An imaginary friend that wasn't a boy or a girl. Catherine's mind searched for the things this might mean. The friend could be: a devil, a rabid animal shot dead, a troll who died when the bridge across the cliff fell, a monster intent on malice -- nothing good.
Julia finished the last of her meatballs and left the rest of the spaghetti untouched.
"I don't want to eat anymore."
Even this statement set Catherine on edge. Her mind wandered through the possibilities: possession by the devil who only likes meat, animal spirit who can't appreciate pasta, a troll who doesn't like the flavour of grain...
"Why?"
"I'm full."
Julia left the table and sat by the window. The winds blew madness about them. Catherine examined her daughter's profile there near the window. She couldn't see anything out of order. The list of questions slipped from her mind. It was hard to remember all of them.
Suddenly, the window flung open. Winds howled within the room. Julia hissed and blew air through her mouth. The winds blew stronger and stronger. Leftover spaghetti splattered across Catherine's face. There in the room; she saw her daughter laughing with the storm. | 2022-06-01T11:57:33 | 2022-06-01T10:06:13 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | **Audio log backup successful**,
**Last sent message**,
**Priority High**,
"This is Chief Petty Officer *untranslatable-most likely personal name/identification* speaking, to all crew members left alive, we need to scuttle the ship, can't afford to let this technology fall into their hands. There's no telling what they would do with it. all"-*transmission degrades to static*
The general took the phonograph off the table. "Men," he said authoritatively, "This was the last known transmission sent by the *untranslatable-name of ship*." "We are going to teach these *untranslatable* eaters of *untranslatable* a lesson for their insolence. Now, as far as we know, they've barely developed interplanetary travel and only possess one planet. But, expect the unexpected, seeing as how they eliminated an entire imperial regiment." "We will make planetfall in 1 hour, dismissed!" I was proud to be a part of such an army, 200,000 of Nexon's finest warriors. I assumed it would be a cakewalk, seeing as how we had just gotten these new breech-loading rifles, 10 times as fast and 10 times as accurate. The intercom squawked, "Now entering the Sol system, report to your airlocks for final preparations." As I entered the airlock, I looked out the viewport and saw a planet covered almost entirely in gigantic metal structures. "Sir?" I asked my lieutenant. "Isn't Mars supposed to be a barren desert?" He looked out the viewport, "I guess they've been busy," he replied.
We landed some fifteen minutes later outside of a massive city, we were informed by the general that this was the city that housed the entire human government. Human soldiers,some 200 of them, approached us. They looked positively terrifying, wearing full body armor which obscured their faces and increased their height. The armor and weapons looked like nothing I'd ever seen, their guns had rectangular pieces coming out of the bottoms. One had what looked like a short tube with a handle. The human's commander stepped up to the general and tried to talk with him, but they were having trouble communicating. The general took his flintlock and shot the human commander squarely in the midsection. But the commander jumped up like it was nothing and yelled a command to his men, we got into firing lines. The human with the tube like gun pressed a button and the front half started spinning. I heard the fire command before the humans let loose. Good *untranslatable*! Their weapons spat out hundreds of sharpened metal slugs. I ducked down prone and before I knew it, my entire regiment was gone. Every time we hit them, they would get back up like nothing happened, they must've made deals with *untranslatable* in exchange for immortality. I decided to attack one with a sword, that should work, Nexonian swords are the sharpest in the galaxy. I sprinted forward, but a hail of slugs convinced me otherwise. Human reinforcements arrived and they made me wonder what business we had tangling with these technological demigods. 15 foot tall autonomous mechanical monsters that sprayed canister rounds and fire, big armored vehicles with massive guns more powerful than any cannon I'd seen. The nimble human gunships were preparing to attack when I bolted to the human's with my *untranslatable-probably part of body* in the air, hoping to surrender. "One of them misunderstood my intent and smashed a closed hand into my face and the next thing I know, I'm here."
The scientist looked down at the alien, scribbling notes, trying to make sense of the incoherent babble that was his language. She gave the paper to the major general, who thanked her for her work and bade her goodbye for the day.
| The plan was simple. We were to pacify the Savages. Convert them to the Imperial Creed. Bring them up to speed with the technology their inferior culture seemed to ignore. But we always knew what that really meant. Massacres. Burning of villages. What the Savage priests call "genocide." The frontier was as much a graveyard of good intentions as it was of Savages and Solaris rangers alike.
Our target was a Savage war leader who called himself King Alfrid. His band regularly committed atrocities on the nearby settlement of Pile Mooth (named after the Savage village which stood before the plague). More importantly they, were disrupting commerce. These animals needed to be "pacified."
"Load up, Rangers!" Captain Creon cried.
We twisted the knobs on our synth muskets, loaded down plasma pods and checked if there was enough ammunition to sustain us for the ride.
"Your enemy is inferior. He uses combustion weapons. He worships false gods. We have nothing to fear" the Captain repeated like a mantra. We mounted our speeders and went off into the Moorland.
The first Savage we killed was barely a man. Captain Creon shot him from his speeder as he ran with his brother. These animals can move so fast. A ranger tackled the boy before he could reach the top of one hill.
"Turn see vack!" said the boy "Death velow!"
The ranger dispatched him with a sabre blow for his "resistance."
"Up the hill!" cried the Captain. "There are surely more"
And more there was. A sea of tents lay below. Women and children doing chores and meandering around the camp. And then my heart sank. A thousand men, screaming, hooting and working themselves into a frenzy. They mounted their horses and began to charge up at at.
The Captain looked at us with a perverse smile.
"Into the fray men! For glory! For the Emperor!"
He sped off to his doom. The rest of the Rangers followed. I fled back to Pile Mooth. This, I later discovered, was the correct decision. Not a single Ranger survived the encounter.
Pile Mooth is abuzz with soldiers now. Not only Rangers, but regulars and engineers. The Emperor has personally decided that King Alfrid must be dealt with. They cannot keep us at bay, not with our numbers. The Imperial Creed gives us strength. We will avenge our fallen.
| 2017-08-08T08:04:17 | 2017-08-08T07:54:14 | 32 | 18 |
[WP] You're a sadistic serial killer, living in a dystopia. It's becoming increasingly difficult to find resisting victims, and it's getting boring. You decide to become a therapist to remedy the problem and discover that you're ridiculously good at it | He was my type. Naive, handsome, with deep eyes that gave away that he was just a little bit troubled. I'd preyed on men like him before the New Age.
He was eccentric, with an easy laugh. Trusting, despite a troubled past. I won him over when he entered, I could see it in his eyes. No tie, the top of my allocated uniform unbuttoned. It would be a dress code violation on the streets. In here, we could both be who we were.
I was fond of the office they gave me. It had a rustic feel, like my old hunting grounds. Exposed pipes ran through the ceiling, the paint in one corner was caking off to reveal old graffiti underneath. Hieroglyphs from another time.
"Dr. Martin?" he asked with a hint of shyness to his voice.
"The one and only. You must be"—I made a show of checking his chart, even though I'd memorized every detail about him—"Tony?"
"I am. Thanks so much for meeting me. I know that with the times how they are..."
"No need to thank me. Trust me, I know as well as you how challenging this transition has been."
So challenging. Almost overnight, my hobby had disappeared. I'd had to fall back on who I'd been before the before—on who I'd been who turned me into who I was.
"So Tony," I started, pointing for him to take a seat, "I see here that you seem to struggle with discipline, with the structure they've imposed upon us now."
"I do, Dr. Martin. I know we're all oppressed, but I feel singled out. Like they're oppressing me more than they oppress anybody else. Like it's personal, but obviously it's not."
"It isn't. Look at a man like me. Inside, I'm like you. In my heart and in my office. No tie. Uncuffed sleeves, I leave the toilet lid up when I piss and I take my coffee with sugar because fuck them telling me I can't have sugar. You see what I'm saying?"
"Yeah. Out there, you're who they want you to be. But in here you're you."
If I don't want to maintain the place, I don't. I let the drips drop. I leave the pipes bare.
"Exactly. So I want us to try something. I want us to simulate the control they exert over our lives. Is that alright with you?"
"Sure. I trust you."
*You shouldn't.*
A willing victim. Almost a volunteer, if it wasn't for the deception.
"Take a seat over here instead. You will be restrained, understood? Arms, legs, head. Everything. That's who they want you to be, right?"
He nodded. He was more naive than I had even anticipated, a more willing participant in what I did than most of the victims I'd had. He moved from one chair to the other—to the restraining chair. I cuffed his arms, secured his legs, pressed the blinders up close to his face so that he couldn't move his head.
And then I looked up at those pipes. Those beautiful, sleek pipes running through the ceiling. They were the source of it all—the source of my sanity and his insanity. The slow drip, he'd hear it in the distance first. His eyes were closed, as if relaxing. Peaceful. Serene. Naive.
I slid the chair back, so that the drip grew closer. He was heavy, but I had a pulley system in place and had no trouble moving him at all.
"You'll feel a drip now. The drip represents them slowly imposing their will upon you. Is that alright?"
"Totally. I feel great. I'm myself inside, but who they want me to be outside."
"You are."
*Oh, you so are.*
He smiled when the first drip touched his head. The smile faltered with the next drip. By the third, he frowned. They hit like hammers, every other sense rendered useless. When he opened his eyes, I was out of his line of sight. He was alone in my sound-proofed office, secured to the chair while the drips of water wet his hair.
One after another. Slowly. Steadily. Wearing away any sanity that remained, like water eroding stone.
I couldn't do what I'd always done. They'd notice the missing people.
Instead I undid everything they sought to do. That was what I'd always done. Killing before, wrenching sanity from society now.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
"Welcome everyone to the favorite morning show the world, the *Market Opener!* We have an interesting guest tomorning, the only woman who could rise from the impecunious and entered the prosperous society. She will tell us about how she began working as a shrink, and became one of the most successful therapists! After the interview, we will pray for the God of the Open Market for another prosperous day. Brought to you by Omozan. But first, a word from our sponsor, Invasion: Dark Fable..."
"Welcome Ms. Tangerine, please have a seat on this nice IGEA sofa. Please, tell us about how you became one of the most successfull therapist."
"Thank you for having me. Well, the life in Scrumville was quite difficult..."
"Ms. Tangerine, we are not here to discuss life there as it does not concern us. We are here to discuss your success, with as little about life outside of the Prosperous Society as possible. Thank you."
"I had a... well... A hobby of mine, meeting new people every now and then, have some fun and then continue living my life. Unfortunately, it was very difficult to find new *friends* who begged for, Khmm, I mean valued their life as much as I did, so I started asking them questions. How was work? What did they eat? And so on. Some of the burst out in tears, some of them -ironically, I didn't say- found hope again. The word got out and instead of me trying to find new *friends*, the came to me. I absolutely hated it, and wanted them to stay away, so I told them my... my lessons are very expensive. That did not stop them, and soon had enough money to buy myself into a tiny little house in this great society. Currently I have some patients, but I don't really have enough time to find *friends* here. However, with this much reason to live, I'm sure I can enjoy being with my *friends.*
"This is really impressive, almost as impressive as SquareArea, the easy webpage maker. Can you tell us about your patient zero?"
"Hmm, sure. He was a tall man, not good looking but not bad either. When I captu... When I met him he was really sad, and did not respond to any of my... proposals. I wanted to start a therapy session, but he was so bored It quickly discouraged me."
Yeah, he was a big pile of haplessness. I took out my torture tools, and he I can still remember his words: "ohH Noo, I'm GoNNa Be ToRTurEd, OHH noOo." I quickly peeled of his nails, but he just continued: "yayy, one less thing to wash when I get to work. The boss might give me some premium." He was so deep into the rabbit hole; he could not feel any more pain. Which wasn't fun. I returned from my memories:
"So I started to ask questions. How would life be better, and how he could change. After we talked for more than 4 hours, I let him go with a promise, that he will change his life. I found him about a month later, and I have to tell you this: I was more than satisfied how our next meeting turned out." | 2020-04-13T06:34:04 | 2020-04-13T05:27:49 | 122 | 75 |
[WP] You don't realize you're the villain till the hero tells you | I confronted Sarah in a parking lot. I was surprised at how easily I'd been able to track her down. She was leaning against a beat-up Ford Taurus in civilian clothes.
Sarah smiled slightly as she spoke. "They sent the almighty *Protector* himself to arrest me? I'm flattered. You know, I had a lunchbox with you on it when I was in third grade."
"Sarah Miller. I've been given orders to use lethal force if you continue to talk." I rarely got kill orders these days, and it was doubly rare when the enemy was a Talker like Sarah. But I can't say I was surprised given her track record.
"Run a check."
"What? I mean – nevermind. Stay silent. Or I will not hestitate to use force."
"You're already hesitating. Run a check. I know you can detect powers. If –"
I closed the 10 foot gap between us in a millisecond and forced her mouth shut. *How did she know about that? Not even the Agency knows about that.* I should have just tranq'd her and brought her in, but I decided to run a power check on her anyways.
I put my hand to her forehead and sensed her power. *What the hell? That's not even a power. That's a handicap.* I relaxed my grip on her. She didn't pose any threat to me, not with a "power" like that. Heck, I could use this to my advantage.
I lowered my hand before continuing. "Alright, Sarah. I'm going to ask you questions. You're going to give me answers. First question: why don't you use an alias?"
She smirked. "You know my power. It's not like an alias would last very long."
"Oh, right." I paused to regain my composure. "Second question: where are Scythe and Banshee hiding?"
The smirk was gone. She opened her mouth for a moment, and then closed it.
"Sarah, as much as I'm enjoying our chat, you're going to tell me what I want to know or I'll end this right now. I'll let you deal with the Agency directly."
"Small warehouse on 14th and Harris. Near the docks."
Wow. That was information we'd been trying to get for months. "Thank you. Now – the Times Square Bombing - why do that? What did you hope to accomplish?"
Sarah bristled at the question. "I didn't do that. And neither did any of my friends. The Agency did that."
*What?* That didn't even make sense, but she clearly believed it.
She didn't wait for me to respond before continuing. "The Agency set off that bomb just like the one in Denver Airport. Just like when they assassinated Senator Clark. Just like when they killed Eagle."
That struck a nerve. Eagle and I had been partners for years. "Sarah, I know you think that's what happened, but you've been brainwashed. Eagle was killed by Scythe. We've all seen the footage."
"The footage is a lie. I was there. I watched Director White murder Eagle in cold blood. She trusted him, she trusted the Agency, she trusted her country, and she was killed for political gain. Scythe tried to stop him but all he managed to do was a bit of damage to the Director's leg."
Suddenly it clicked. Director White hadn't been at Agency HQ that day, and ever since then he walked with the slightest limp.
I ran another power check on Sarah, just to be sure. Turns out "being unable to lie" was a lot more dangerous of a power than I'd realized.
---
EDIT: The dialogue was hard to follow, so I made some edits. | The flashing red and blue of a dozen police lights illuminated the store front, as officers and detectives littered the crime scene. A trio of ambulance personnel were standing over the two robbers, both covered in blood and burn marks; my doing.
I was stuck in the back of a police van, watching the scene through tinted glass, hands cuffed behind my back. A rough looking cop sat across from me, watching over me, guarding me.
The ambulance personnel covered one of the robbers with a white blanket, face to crotch. I smiled. *He will no longer make this world unsafe.*
‘What are you so happy about?’ asked the cop.
I was taken aback a bit by the ludicrousness of that question, as justice had just been served, but I recovered fairly quickly, ‘He was a dangerous man, and now that he is gone, I made the world a better place.’
I pushed my shoulders backwards, as to emphasize the Pyro – that’s my name! – logo across my costume’s chest, ‘And this will be only be the first of many victories for justice! You will see, mark my words. This whole arresting and capture will be unnecessary soon, and I’ll be hauled as the hero this city wants and needs!’
The cop snickered with disgust, ‘Ha, yeah, sure. A rich kid wearing red boxers over his sister’s yellow leggings who used his daddy’s WWII flamethrower to stop a robbery on a goddamn *movie set* is a hero? For crying out loud, the signs identifying the area as a recording zone were all over the street and neighbourhood. You maimed most of the crew! People disfigured in one of the most horrible ways possible. Son, you’re looking at decades to life. And you think—’
I blocked him out. He was talking out of his neck, sprouting bullshit. Policemen are legally allowed to lie after all. *What would he know of heroes? Of being a hero? Nothing. This is all just part of the test, the test of true heroism. Even Batman was considered a villain at one time. This city would love me soon enough.*
I smiled some more as the other robber got covered too.
| 2015-04-17T23:11:04 | 2015-04-17T22:53:47 | 458 | 18 |
[WP] Two years ago the sun winked out, utterly without warning. You are a member of one of the last human settlements on earth, huddled around a geothermal vent in Iceland. This morning, again without warning, the Sun rose. | I went a little overboard with this and the story ended up being almost three thousand words long. So, this is just the introduction. But thank you for the great prompt and motivation to do some writing!
\-----------
The Dying Light
Haley-Deanne was born April 14th, 2021, at 3:47 pm on a beautiful sunny spring day that would have been hard for anybody to describe as anything less than perfect. She came into the world no different than any other child does. Crying, confused, angry, sore, and covered in muck. She had all her toes, and all her fingers. Her voice was loud and strong. Much like the day she was born, it would have been hard for anybody to say she was anything less than perfect.
Despite the perfect day, and despite the perfect baby, Haley’s mother was panicking. “Give me my baby,” she said, holding out her hands. But nobody acknowledged her. The doctor and nurses spent the first minute of the child’s life checking her over and oohing and awing about how beautiful she was.
“There’s no time, you idiots! Give me my baby!” The mother yelled. Once again, nobody paid her any attention. The second minute of the young girl’s life was spent getting cleaned up by one of the nurses, who kept asking Haley if she knew how lucky she was.
The mother, who’s panic only kept increasing, looked over towards her husband. “Make them give me my baby! There is no time! You know there is no time!” But he too ignored her and was looking over the nurse’s shoulder at his newborn daughter. The third minute of Haley’s life was spent being admired by her father.
The fourth and fifth minutes of the baby’s life were spent getting another looking over by the doctor, checking for anything abnormal and marveling at what a perfect little child he had just delivered. The mother was still alone, crying and screaming and begging them to hand over her daughter before it was too late. Didn’t they know what was going on? Why were they all so calm? Why was her husband not helping her?
Six minutes into Haley-Deane’s life she was placed into the arms of her father. His face seemed to be all smiles, the kind of pure emotion expression that infects others around them with joy. The nurses were crying, and the doctor left with a pat on the back for ‘ol dad. “Good job, sir, you made a great baby.” The father held the baby and rocked her, the full-faced smile never faltering for a second.
The mother was screaming by now. Screaming and bucking and doing everything she could to get free. To protect her daughter. But she was trapped. She was strapped to the bed and it didn’t matter what she did, she could never escape. The fear and misery were all that she was, and all that she knew. She only wanted her daughter to be safe, but nobody was helping her.
Her husband, the father, and man she thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with, finally looked up at her. The smile faded. “I’m sorry,” he said, walking towards her. “I love you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I have to go.”
“Go! What do you mean, go!? No, you have to help me! You have to help protect our daughter! You can’t leave me!”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. He placed Haley gently in her mother’s arms, kissed his wife on the forehead, turned, and walked out the door.
“Come back,” the mother screamed. “We need you!” She rocked back and forth, the joy of having her daughter undercut by the loss of her husband. What were they going to do now? How would they survive? She lay on the bed and screamed and wailed. All around her the nurses went about their business, still ignoring her completely.
Eight minutes after the birth of Haley-Deanne, the sun died. | Life before the darkness was complex. Things weren’t about surviving, at least not for me. I focused on research, learning, teaching. When do I make my next speech? When will I get some down time to spend with her?
Life changed fast, as I think it does with or without the light. Everything blurred together as things kind of fell apart for all of us, I guess. Life got simple real fast. Survive, pick something important, live for it. Maybe it should have always been that way. Maybe it was always that way…
\* \* \* \* \*
Bright light. I could feel my face tighten as my eyes tried to adjust to a sight that was once familiar. I could hear murmurs and voices as I woke. “Honey, the Sun!” I tried to take it in as she spoke the words. As my senses sharpened from my slumber, I struggled to find an explanation. “Yeah, yeah… Marie, I see that.” What else could I say. Others were excited, I was confused.
\* \* \* \* \*
I have learned some Icelandic in the two years of being stuck here. It could have been worse, most of these survivor spoke English beforehand. It gave us something to do in the darkness. Learn the meanings of words not used in each others’ languages.
*Raðljóst, “Raow-yost”* as I would pronounce it. “Enough light to navigate.” I always found it amazing how you could say so many things with so little effort. That is how we have come to live our lives. Marie, she took to this well. If it weren’t for her, I don’t think I’d have had the will to go on. What benefit would it be to start a family in the darkness? To dwindle on into the death of everything our planet has ever been. Marie, she was what gave me *Raðljóst.*
\* \* \* \* \*
I brought myself to smile and stand, to join the others. The youngest of us was eleven years old. Nearly twenty percent of his life was in the darkness. The others struggled to keep him quiet. They, too, grew in excitement. The light of the sun glinted and shined off of the first morning dew I’d seen in far too long. I opened my mouth to speak, and something stopped me. My heart dropped to my stomach.
A compass left on a small rock.
The red part of the needle pointed north.
The white part pointed south.
Towards the rising sun.
***Edit:*** *Formatting.* | 2018-07-21T12:59:48 | 2018-07-21T12:21:44 | 67 | 11 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come. But so has the robot apocalypse, and the Illuminati takeover, and the alien invaders... It seems everyone played their hand at the same time. | The sleek Scout-class ship warped into Earth's solar system. Reports of a lush, verdant, water-rich planet protected only by fleshy primates was too good for the Radix empire to pass up. Unfortunately for the scouting party, those reports were out of date.
"Alright boys, shape up and stay in line this time!" Barked the commander to the crew. "I won't have a repeat of our invasion on Snotrock-III, that means no walking upside down to make them wonder where our faces are, no trying to convince them the universal vulgate is fart noises, and absolutely no using the ship's neutron beam to draw pictures of butts. Now then, set a course for the blue and green planet, third from this system's star!"
"right away captain!" Chimed in the ship's computer, putting up a visual of the target planet on the holoprojector
The captain almost jumped out of his seat "Great gravy what in the galaxy is that misshapen thing!? We want Earth, computer!"
"Earth displayed, captain."
"That sorry mess?! That looks nothing like the reports! Count on the recon team forgetting to mention a class 4 meteor crater and a cloud of debris covering the whole planet. Ah well, we have our orders. Target a populated area to land in, if anything lives on that rock we'll let them know they surrender."
The ship touched down to outside of New York City to little fanfare. The soft hum of the ship's propulsion beams grabbed the attention of a few of the city's inhabitants before the continued on their way. From inside the ship the captain looked out to the ground below
"Suppose the news parties and politicians take their time on this planet, the welcoming party's about as sordid as the planet! Computer, lower the walkway and hand me the microphone."
"right away captain!" said the computer "Oh by the by, analysis of the sapients show abnormal levels of hunger and durability, I recomme-" "I recommend you stow it and follow orders computer! Sooner we can leave the better, the stench of the air here is already making me sick!" the captain snapped
The crew marched down the walkway and the captain began the standard invasion speech "Attention, people of this planet!" The speakers of the ship carried his voice with a rumbling force, the humans within the nearest city blocks turned and started towards the ship
"We come in peace! Bring your leaders to us and show no resistance and no harm will come to-to..."
The figures grew more grotesque the closer they came, pale shredded skin, eyes dangling out, limbs missing in perfectly gross ways and all of them running with reckless abandon towards the ship, not screaming or staring in awe like decent horrified invadees
The captain backed up as they reached the ship. The crew blasted them with lasers as the humans advanced but when one fell the rest climbed over and kept running. The crew and captain retreated back to the ship and the door closed just as the captain had all but slipped through
"AAARGH!" yelled the captain as he pulled his freshly bitten hand through the closing doorway
"Computer, get us out of here! This planet isn't worth the trouble."
In hyperspace the ship sped away to the Radix homeworld
"How are you feeling captain?" queried the ship
The captain's skin was sunken and his eyes were turning an eerie shade of yellow. He groaned "uugnhh...Not so well...Glad we'll be back to homeworld soon...I could really use...
a bite | "Any news from Moscow?"
I sat up in my seat. For one hundred years it had commanded the hall of conference, this cavern of stone. It was rather comfortable. I somewhat wished, in that regard, that the world above me would become more like my chair.
"Sorry Sir"
Henry had been monitoring transmissions for the last twenty hours
"It's been all quiet on the eastern front since twenty three hundred hours GMT - Vladimir and the New Red Army have barricaded the Kremlin."
Zombies, I assumed.
"'All quiet on the eastern front' isn't a thing Henry. Also do the robots have the nukes?"
I asked again - having forgotten the answer from three hours ago.
"No Sir. A state of emergency was declared in every country on earth approximately twenty one hours ago. Protocol Four-Seven was initiated at five hundred hours GMT. To prevent enemy acquisition of atomic weaponry we shot all twelve thousand, one hundred and fourteen warheads at the city of Detroit."
Ah yes - they all told me that aliens were coming - "nuke the space lizards" they said - but I knew the real problem.
Fucking Detroit.
"The robots are proposing a truce"
Henry called from the doorway to the radio room after what was likely several hours.
"We just received an email from the YouTube algorithm. To summarize their proposition - The toaster men are having trouble killing some green bois and want the help of every remaining military force on earth or else they'll delete our channel."
Some time passed as I considered this information.
The last remaining satellite passed over our location - I requested to see the image of the United States - to see the condition of the earth around me. A faint line of green stretched towards our bunker. I had the image zoomed and enhanced - using technology which we had kept secret from all but a select group of Hollywood producers for years. This was no line - it was a rank of green figures who marched for miles across the country to our location. They were no lizard men or zombies. As they destroyed the blast door and marched in - I realized with horror, these men, still glowing a sickly colour, came from Detroit.
| 2017-12-28T17:45:54 | 2017-12-28T15:50:54 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Humans are known in the galaxy for being a bit dim, but also for being the very best mechanics around, and inexplicably able to fix machines beyond their comprehension. You have broken down on Earth, and having the apes work on your craft is both fascinating and terrifying. | Zarp's pleasant cruise of the Milky Way was interrupted by his ship's robotic voice.
*85 seconds of flight time remaining, land immediately and commence repairs.*
"WHY?!" Zarp screamed helplessly at his ship. He had no idea what was wrong, and that really irked him. As a people, the Roflings pride themselves on intelligence. But for some reason, repairing a ship was beyond them - or more accurately, beneath them.
*Manual driving disabled. Destination set for 'Jim's ship repairs', Australian Outback, Earth.*
"No not Earth!" Zarp cursed to himself, knowing that he didn't have time to visit a more civilized mechanic shop. He had heard terrifying stories about Earthlings. Their primitive behavior was the butt of many Galactic jokes. However, they seemed to excel at repairing ships.
Zarp's ship touched down with a magnetic thrum. He tentatively approached the shop. Zarp glanced around him, suddenly wary of being ambushed. Barren desert land stretched all around, Jim's shop the only building in sight. Corroded metallic structures littered the surrounding land like corpses after a great battle. Two huge earthlings were perched on the end of a land ship; small smoking sticks held away from their bodies with thick meaty arms. Zarp gasped as they drew the smoldering cylinders up to their mouths and inhaled. *Must be some sort of primal assertion of dominance,* Zarp thought as he noticed the two apes sizing him up.
Zarp knew how a business worked though, so he swallowed his fear and approached the earthlings. The larger of the two men jumped to his feet and approached him; one of his muscled arms stretched outwards, pointing directly at Zarp.
"I mean you no harm!" squealed Zarp as he recoiled in fear. "I just wanted my ship repaired!"
"Relax mate!" The Australian man grinned happily, "name's Jim. Was just gonna shake your hand."
"Oh of course, I forgot about that ritual. I am Zarp." Zarp looked at the ground, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed.
"No worries! Lets take a look at your ship!" Jim walked confidently over to the ship and started examining it.
Zarp watched in amazement as this being he thought of as stupid and primitive navigated his way around his ship more fluently than any Rofling he knew. Jim was checking oil consistencies and analyzing atmosphere containment. Zarp was impressed as he noticed Jim using all his senses to help diagnose the problem. He was smelling the gravity thrusters, listening to the warp shields power up, and using his skin to feel if things were fitted correctly. Zarp realized he had seriously underestimated the earthling's skill. He watched in awe while Jim danced around his ship with a subtlety and finesse that betrayed his appearance.
"This things fucked!" Jim said finally as he pulled a scorched proton aggressor from the ships belly. "We'll chuck a new one in there and you should be sweet."
-
Zarp powered up his new ship.
*Repairs complete. Ready for flight*
Feeling completely at ease now, Zarp remembered some of Earth's hand gestures. Looking at Jim, he pointed his thumb at the roof as the ship gently lifted off the ground.
| Humans are far from being the smartest species in the universe, but they surely are known as the best mechanics. This fact is almost unexplainable but anything they get their hands on gets turned in a functional gadget (most of the times they get turned in weapons but let give this guys a break, they aren’t that evolved).
Even though I knew the stories, seeing this happening is a whole different thing, that’s why I stare flabbergasted as the half-evolved creature roam through my spacecraft, scattering and checking everything without a second thought, while I try to think on how to tell him to get his hands of my spacecraft I hear him say, using his ancient auto translator:
“Have you tried to turn it off and on again?”
“Why would I do that?”
“OFF and ON again!” the auto translator rang in the way you would speak to a kid, as he turned the engine off and on again almost as if hoping for a paranormal event about to happen making the engine magically start working again.
“If it didn’t work before why would it work...” before I finished the engine started.
“Stupid Alien.”
How was that possible? He wasn’t even a proper mechanic, he was an average old farmer, the typical earthborn human who thinks space travelling and diplomacy are for “young people who can’t keep their nose off things they shouldn’t mess with” and even then he fixed a topnotch spacecraft as if it was nothing much, the best spacecraft in the whole galactic fleet was fixed by an average human.
I board my spacecraft and lift off as fast as I can. As the galactic leader I always dismissed the rumors about the humans as stupid. But now I see they are not to be underestimated, we should focus all our forces in either annexing or exterminating them before the tear the universe apart.
| 2016-05-23T19:20:30 | 2016-05-23T15:58:24 | 107 | 48 |
[WP] You have the ability to travel back in time, but when you do you take over the body of one of your direct ancestors at random. One day, you travel back to 1942 and find yourself standing at a podium looking out over 100,000 soldiers. | I went back for one sole purpose: to kill Hitler. It wasn't supposed to be all that hard, you see. I have German ancestry, so I was just going to hop around in the 30's and 40's until I ended up in the body of a young German man. I'd join the Wermacht and pick Hitler off the first chance I got. Even if I failed, I wouldn't be a problem. Time travel, you know? I could just start over.
But I never expected THIS.
The red banners waved in the wind before me just after I made my jump. Their triumphant image clashed heavily with the dejected faces of the thousands I saw before me in the snow. Given that it was 1942, I knew exactly where we were. The Eastern front. But something was off.
Everyone was wearing a Soviet uniform.
If they were German, then it would have made sense and I would have just been a bit unsettled about having a Wermacht officer as my ancestor. But this just didn't make any sense. Sure, I had SOME Russian blood in me, but nobody had told me stories about my great grandpa the Commissar or anything.
"Comrade Stalin, they're waiting." Whispered an officer to my side.
Well apparently Stalin wasn't a very faithful man, because if I sure as hell would have known about it all if his wife was in my family tree. I was just about to jump back and leave poor old Stalin lying on the ground while his own consciousness took its time getting back in when it hit me.
What better opportunity would I get?
"Comrades!" I yelled to the depressed crowd. "I know this war has been hard, and I know the fascists have been winning battle after battle!"
"Comrade, that wasn't the scri-"
I motioned to him to stay quiet.
"But fear not! The turning point of this war is soon to come! For today, our code breakers have cracked the German codes!"
The crowds faces lit up, and I could see the half joy, half disbelief in their eyes.
"We will now know every one of their movements before they make them, and we can respond accordingly! Victory will soon be upon us! If you do your part for our motherland, then our victory is assured!"
The crowd erupted in cheering, while the officer next to me tried desperately to keep a straight face. He knew I was spouting bullshit, but what he didn't know was that I was such an obsessive history buff that I'd memorized half the battles on the eastern front.
I stepped away from the podium, and left the stage with the other officer.
"Comrade, I know that the men need encouragement, but they're going to their graves. We shouldn't lie, this war is going to be lost."
"You misunderstand." I replied. "A month from now, the Germans will attack Stalingrad. In February of next year, we will push them out and nearly destroy their army in the region. We will win this war, and the Soviet flag shall fly over the Reichstag."
"C-Comrade?" Said the officer, worried. "Are you well?"
"I am as well as I will ever be. I promise you, I will win this war." | It was cold and snowing. I was standing on a podium on a large square with possibly over a hundred thousand soldiers in fron of me. The red flags and the red stars immediately told me where I was.
"Comrade Stalin, is everything alright?"
A assistant appeared on my side. I was obviously supposed to hold a speech.
My problem was that all the notes were on russian. Problem was that I was able to talk but barely able to read in this language.
So I decided to improvise.
"Yeah, Im fine you pleb! Go back to the cheap ranks."
Without any backtalk the assistant disappeared behind me.
"Eh.. fellow soldiers, sorry I mean canonfodder. Ze filthy germans have invaded the motherland. They are here to steal our vodka, our womens, our borscht, our laser bears and ehm....whatever else we have here."
Some of the soldiers were visibly confused but nobody dared to open his mouth.
"So uhm.. you are going to fight them. Most of you worthless plebs will be used as meatshields and bulletsponges. Most of you wont survive this war and many who do will be put into some beautiful gulag in siberia for opposing me."
First whispers started.
"I know the germans rekt us hard at the beginning. But our broken vehicles made out of Stalinium will make up for this. So rush B, Cyka Blyat and you will be fine. Fight for the motherland, fight for me!"
Everyone started talking instead of cheering.
"CHEER YOUR WORTHLESS BITCHES!!! OR FEAR THE WRATH OF THE MIGHTY STALIN!!!!
The soldiers were shocked for a moment but started cheering immediately after that.
Well wasnt that bad, right? | 2017-04-17T19:00:18 | 2017-04-17T14:02:48 | 103 | 69 |
[WP] The world is an MMORPG, and high leveled players can hide their true level and make it a lower one. A bunch of Level 80 people bully your Level 39 persona, but you’re actually a level 325 in disguise. | I sat idly flicking my pen back and forth across my notebook while the presenter droned on. These group meetings always had been tedious and filled with a lot of ego stroking, the exact thing to bore a lowly office worker to sleep.
"Am I boring you?" The voice came booming straight at me, and I knew that the presenter, a manager named Damien, had noticed my disinterest. "You should really pay attention in these meeting kid. You've been with us almost a month now and your level hasn't budged. If you don't want to be a 39 for life, you should pay attention when your superior 80's talk." Damien looked down his nose at me while he said all lf this, a wicked smile slowly creeping across his face. He was of course referring to the levels displayed above all of our heads, the most surefire way to know who is beneath you, always tracking the slow accumulation of skills needed within a corporate structure. Honestly having levels makes promotions a much easier task.
"Hey don't go spacing off again Skim, you're already in hot water." This time it was Helena who spoke, another manager from our department who had what could be called a strong relationship with Damien. In only one month here I had recorded 27 instances of those two sneaking off to the breakroom, bathroom, fax, storeroom, or lunchroom together only to return sweaty and disheveled. Steamy. "Ma'am please don't call me Skim, my name is Oscar." I said quietly, my voice dripping with deference that I never really felt. "But Skim, you make such a good latté I just can't help it" she snickered "speaking of which, since you're not paying any attention to the meeting go make me my usual."
I complied, genuinely glad for an excuse to leave the meeting room, some of my co-workers shook their heads as I passed, or offered supportive leg taps, theis 25s and 43s bobbing as they did so. There was good comradery among the lower level employees, something I had noted quickly here. Helena's preferred cofee used a strawberry infused bean she had had me buy on two ocassions when she ran out, and was nearly half milk. Frankly I have no idea how anyone could drink something that looked and tasted like dirty strawberry milk, but that's her preference. On my way back I was joined by Carlos, the remaining manager in the department, and my direct supervisor, who handed me a stack of papers. "These are the reports from team 3, they need to be processed and handed in to Amelia in archiving by Wednesday. You can start on them as soon as we get done with the meeting." Based on the weight of the reports in my hands I knew this was going to take quite a few hours to get through. Given that today was Tuesday, that would mean staying late tonight. It's no wonder Carlos wanted me to do his paperwork. I just sighed and tucked the files under my arm as we walked back into the meeting room.
Helena took her sickly nectar from my hands as I looked at the presentation board in time to see a red line zigzag from the top left of the screen lazily toward the bottom right, and the words "net monthly profits" appear on the top of the graph. "...and as you can see we're not doing so hot this quarter" Damien was saying "we're going to have to see some changes around here very shortly. Therefore well open this up and take any suggestions on how we can do better."
Carlos immediately started speaking with an acidic expression on his face "well it would help if everyone pulled their weight around here. I know we have several employees" he glanced at me quickly as he said this "who spend an inordinate amount of time away from their desks." Helena then chimed in "I agree there are a few department members who just move so slowly. Take for example this coffee" she paused and raised the cup to her lips "it took long enough to get this to me that it's cold. Who wants to drink cold coffee?" She took another sip and continued "I also think we're spending too much on frivolities, why do we need to keep 3 flavors of tea in the break rooms anyway? We should look into making cuts in those places."
I decided that the timing now was too good to pass up, so Indecided to chime in cheerily, "it might help if we hired a few more writers to spread the workload around, then the quality of our work could go up." Damien glared at me viciously again. "Are you willfully trying to irritate me or just stupid, we need to reduce operating costs to fix this" an exaggerated gesture toward the angry red gash projected behind him "and hiring additional hands will only raise costs. I guess though that's just the limits of a level 39's ability to understand business. Shut up and pay attention kid." The other managers nodded in agreement, and I stood up and smiled. "Oh you mean this" I said as I pointed to the number above my head. I started walking toward the front of the room where Damien was standing. "I don't like to brag, but I'm the most skilled level 39 you've ever seen, in fact..." I reached up and grabbed the upper corner of the number, and started peeling. The green lettering faded and came off in my hand, revealing the silver white metallic letters that had been hidden under the false level, reading a bold 325. "... I'm not a level 39 at all. You might be aware that the company, a month ago, hired an effectiveness consultant to check up on the record low results this department has been producing." I smiled my most sickeningly sweet smile and kept my eyes just open enough to see what the reaction from the managers was as I said "I've just completed my month long observation period. I have certainly recorded some interesting results. Misallocation of company funds, abuse of subordinates, romance on the clock, a general lack of managerial competency, and some very interesting documentation errors in our financial documentation. Sorry I've been away from my desk so much Carlos, but I had an embezzlement investigation to start. I think there's going to be some changes in the department in the near future, and after I submit my *preliminary* report, I think you'll be seeing a lot more of me around here. Well those of you who are still around that long." | With the introduction of the Oculus Rift into the gaming world, the next big thing was clear from the start: fully immersive virtual reality. With the reveal of the long waited Oculus Agent in 2062 the world of gaming changed forever. I met a beggar on Life With Dragons the other day. This is an... interesting game. I like it a lot. It lets me play all my characters at once, there are no level caps, everything is progressively generated, the world seems infinite and PVP is always on. For this reason you can play all your characters at once. Maybe your other character can pick up the heat for you. There are rumors about a vigilante flowing around, a guy who dedicated his life to this game. For him it was his world. This beggar I met gave me some solid advice.
"Hey kid, whatcha hiding there?"
If you *have* to look along the shaft of an arrow from the wrong end
"I'm just heading to the hub."
"Doesn't look like it. You have something on ya, don't cha?"
if a man has you entirely at his mercy
"I've been grinding these twenty fives for three weeks now. What can I offer to an eighty like you?
then hope like hell that man is an evil man
"Nah, mate, you're hiding something. My perception is high enough to look in your pockets. You're hiding a rare, aren't ya?"
Because the evil like power
"It's a twenty two break sword. You're eighty. What the hell are you going to do with it?"
"Maybe I just like rares... or maybe I just like hunting game, hehehe..."
power over people
"It's three weeks of work, man, come on!"
"Nah, mate. That's a nice lil' rare you got there, and I don't want it in your pockets."
and they want to see you in fear.
"Just leave me alone, go hunt some other game."
"My buddy Jake over there really likes to hunt game too. I don't think Jake wants to see you walk away with these nice arms and legs you have on you. I don't think I want to either."
They want you to *know* you're going to die.
"You're a goddamn lunatic! It's a twenty two break sword! Leave me the hell alone!"
"Hey, Michael, this kid here is being too greedy for his lil' arms and legs. I'm starting to like them arms and legs now, they'd be a fine addition to my collection, whadaya say?"
So they'll talk.
"What the hell are you talking about! You're a goddamn psycho!"
"Oh, you're just being too sensitive. We all have hobbies, don't we? Just because my hobby is collecting newbie pieces I'm a psychopath? How insensitive. I'm insulted. Hey, Michael, did you see that? This kid here insulted me! I daresay I'm heavily insulted! It's an atrocity!"
They'll gloat.
"Hey, hey, let go of me, freak! What the hell are you doing?!"
"How do you think I got to this level, huh? You think I was like you, farming on these fluffy peacocks like the peacock farmer you are? Hahaha, of course not! I was working my ass off, I was doing things you're too afraid to do, I was living the dream! I became a man! I became strong and powerful! I became the man you want to be! I became the man you dream to be!"
They'll watch you *squirm*.
"Please let go... it hurts..."
"Oh, I know it hurts, baby... I like it when it hurts..."
They'll put off the moment of murder like another man will put off a good cigar.
"Please... Please stop... Please..."
"Oh baby, you got me all worked up now... Ooooh, I love the smell of your sweat when you're like this... your eyes, your body movin', your pretty lil' eyes... Let's enjoy our moment together... intimately."
So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word.
Shinkt.
Another one. I have no idea where these sadistic bastards are coming from, but the supply is plenty. In the last few seconds I switch to my three-twenty-five and just the dagger is enough to gut this guy like a fish. Seeing his friends' eyes turn from this... this messed up 'smile' into shock and then terror as they try to flee the scene is mesmerizing. That beggar was on spot with his advice. I'll never forget his grin and last glance at me, switching to his main for just a second.
Red Eye of Cursed Sinners. Couldn't tell the requirements - must be a four-hundrerd-plus equip at least. Couldn't see into his pockets. Strong dude. It's a tough job being a vigilante, but someone's gotta do it.
\---
Constructive criticism is quite welcome!
| 2018-07-29T11:16:15 | 2018-07-29T11:02:24 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] There are multi-Gods for the multi-verse, and it turns out ours is kind of like the 'cool mom who lets you drink at her house,' though other Gods look at our free will and generally silent deity as bad Godding on His part. | "Personally, I think you just need to smite them every once in a while. That way they're more behaved overall, and work harder in their lives than if I let them just, run wild." Janice's eyes grew big as she motioned towards The Universe Tribune, then took another sip of tea.
Her group sitting in the restaurant at the end of the universe all nodded and murmured side comments in agreement. "I would never let them take things that far." "Bunch of selfish sinners on that planet." "I smite mine daily."
The newspaper sat in the center of the table, and the cover story took up the whole front page. All of Earth's shenanigans listed in bullet points, with a picture from an ISIS YouTube video in the background. Things looked dire for the planet. They were on the brink of self-destruction, and all anyone could ask was, where was their god?
The bell rang at the front door and an overweight woman in sweats helped herself to the bar and ordered a bloody Mary. The table of deities grew hushed as they watched her with practiced judgement.
After getting her drink, and a few gulps in, her eye caught the familiar faces at the table and she lit up. She made her way over, and grabbed her own chair to sit with everyone.
"Hey guys! I didn't think I'd see you here!" She said warmly. "I thought you couldn't hang out because today was your descension, Bernadette."
"Hey Katie," Bernadette shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "I'm doing that in a few hours. Just wanted to take a break first." She threw back half her mimosa.
"Good to see you, Katie," Janice started, a superior grin growing. "How are things with you? Your ears must have been burning."
Katie finally saw the paper. She only rolled her eyes.
"Oh, that. Yea, it's hard to watch. I love them, but there's only so much I can do without taking away their free will."
"Is that really something you still want to prioritize at this point? I don't think the humans will last another 100 years." No one else at the table is saying anything. They're too uncomfortable with the confrontation.
Katie takes a deep gulp from her drink, looking defiantly back at Janice.
"You know, as nice as it is being worshipped, even if most of them think I'm a guy," Katie went on, despite a chortle at the table,
"It's not important. I don't need my ego inflated. I blame myself for intervening early on. I really hurt them. Now they're still killing each other as if it's my will. So I had to stop. I promised myself I would never hurt another life on Earth. I give them gifts and miracles, but I can't smite them. They can only smite themselves, and if that ends them,"
Katie broke a little bit with one tear running, "Then that's that. I'm responsible for taking care of the planet, and maybe it will be a better place without humanity."
The tears started flowing freely. The table was shocked at her loss of composure. A God should remain stoic at all times. This was beyond all of their comprehension.
Katie collected herself, and stood up from the table. "You guys have a nice day."
She left $10 for the drink, then headed out. As soon as the door closed, Janice looked to the table for some kind of confirmation. She didn't get any. The mood was crushed, no one spoke, and everyone walked away maybe 5 minutes later.
Janice was so frustrated with how brunch ended, when she went back to her planet, she sent a plague to her people. When they asked her why, she made an excuse about how she looked ugly in her shrines. | Entity C-137 looked over her favourite creation, humans. They were the most interesting thing that she had ever seen. These complex beings were not perfect paragons of virtue that all worked together to advance the species, they were a bunch of animals that were equal parts mis-informed, self-interested and unpredictable. That means that when beauty is created, and it is abundant in her universe, it is produced in spite of, not because of the worst that she produced. She had seen other gods produce cruel caricatures of good and evil, but this was too harsh a contrast for her, the picture was more profound with grey areas. For there to be happiness, there must be a state of un-happiness otherwise being happy would become the status quo, so the value of happiness is destroyed. There were entities that disregarded free will as evil, and that if a entity didn’t control all the moving elements then that entity was deficient or evil, but C-137 always thought the contrary. She was benevolent and that meant that there were those that produced pain, death and destruction. But those people were then overthrown and shown of examples of how not to act, so the 2 processes achieved the same thing, it’s just one took a little longer to ensured that it was organic. Though C-137 was in fact omni-potent, she didn’t know what would happen next, there was an entertainment that she could enjoy from the universe because of the way she treated the sentient beings.
C-12 for example had a master race of near-omni potent super beings that were immortal. Their story is a short one, they achieved all there was to achieve before the first earliest organism had formed anywhere in her universe. They had never been sad, unfulfilled or disappointed, but as a result were bored and most of them killed themselves. The rest are now controlled by C-12 to stop them from ending their existence. For life and creation to have meaning, there must be death and destruction. C-137 had always believed this, but had not forced it on her subjects, but they had come to that conclusion themselves. She always felt that her free-will approach meant that rather than one world working on the project, there were billions of neurons that collaborated to create a collection that was greater than the sum of the parts.
C-137 was sure that her professor would give her an A, especially because of the emergence of some pretty zany characters, she just had to reach the word count… | 2017-05-07T09:00:20 | 2017-05-07T07:39:28 | 188 | 139 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much. | There are thousands of stories of the great heroes of our time, stories meant to inspire the children despite their anima. It is believed that no anima was inferior to another, no anima was stronger or weaker, and so we tell stories of of both Regar the Lion, who came from a farming village and went to conquer 40 kingdoms and bed 10000 women, as well as Tillus the mouse, who overthrew Regar with his instinct and wit just to save the one woman he loved from being another of Regar's concubines. But we always hide the stories of the legendary anima, because their existence breaks our vision of the world. These people are born with potential, and contain ability that surpasses any attainable human power. And while many have been glorious heroes and saviors of mankind, we must ignore them, for a greater light casts a darker shadow.
I tell to you now, one of these stories, one that perhaps should never be told. The story of Ilius, the leviathan. His father was a raging bear, consumed with dominance and power, but his lack of ability to tap into the innate strength of the bear led to weakness and fear, and eventually evil. By the time Ilius was born, the once proud man was a heavy drinker due to his successive, and ruthlessly beat his wife in drunken stupor. And the mark of the leviathan on his son, only made him angrier. His pride would not take that his son would be a greater man than himself, so he treated Ilius cruelly. His mother was a dove, a dove trapped in a cage with wings clipped, only watching the brutality of her husband as he beat her only child and raped him. She loved ilius but not as a son, but as a beacon that distracted his father, but Ilius mistook this love as it was his only light in his dark world. On his 9th birthday, his father comes back from the tavern in a rage from gambling away his meager earnings and returns home to vent his stress. But this time it is different, as he comes home to ilius smiling with his mother making dinner. He sees finally, that even his attempt to take away happiness from his ill borne son has failed and in his rage, he beats ilius to near death. Ilius begs for mercy in his pain, but as he looks to his mother, he sees the light gone from her. He sees her fear, not for him, but for the lack of him.
The next morning, the boy once called Ilius was found in the ruins of what seemed to be a collapsed, burned family home. He sat there with inky black eyes covered in reptilian scale, in the black pitch of the family room. The walls were not burned, but rather devoid of color, black like burnt wood but with no ash. Sheriffs found two bodies, left only bones with the flesh turned to tar. They say that this was the beginning of the leviathan, the monster who ate any light that tried to see into his dark abyss. | Some call it a gift from the Spirit of the Earth or God or whoever is out there. This animal shaped stain on everyone's skin one of which can grant the attributes and behavior of whatever it resembled. My father has the mark of a Wild boar on his back he is stubborn, strong and smart. My Mother has a hawk on her shoulder she can see through anyone and see what kind of people they really are. I thought I was a worm. small, slimy and dirty. Boy was I wrong.
I was always getting teased by kids my age and this has left me bitter and hateful towards people. I was called Slimy Jim the worm guy. I grew to hate despise the system of this world the Predators and the Prey. Those with strong animal marks would always abuse those that are powerless to stop them.
As I was growing up my only friend was a girl called Shelly. Ironically enough she had the mark of a creature called a Nautilus Squid she was reserved and just like me made fun off. We both hated the system but we where powerless to stop them. I was a worm she was a squid what can we do against the Lions, Tigers and Bears of the world.
As the years passed Me and Shelly noticed a change. As our physical bodies grew so did our birthmarks. The worm I originally thought I had was no worm at all. It was a fierce winged serpent and Shelly has a hunched Humanoid with a squid head. We were no worm and squid. We are Leviathan and Cthulhu and we will bring everything down.
| 2017-11-08T05:57:15 | 2017-11-08T05:42:07 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You pick up painting to impress a crush, but secretly hate it. Two years later you’re engaged to your crush and you have to keep up the facade- and a popular art gallery now wants to feature your work. Suddenly you’re very famous for your work and you still. hate. painting.
Inspired by https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/87kajr/women_of_reddit_guys_do_stupid_things_to_impress/dwdpuj8/ | The crowd of people in front of me waited eagerly to hear me speak, the spotlight baring down on my latest creation behind me. Alison stood beside me in a plain red dress that had cost thousands of dollars. Why a dyed piece of fabric cost so much, I may never know. I gave a long sigh and began to speak.
“Um yeah, so this is a painting of a house. It’s called House.” Half of the crowd erupted into excited chatter as the other half tried to sush them down, afraid they might miss something. I tucked one hand in my pocket as I motioned to the painting with the other.
“There’s like a blue sky in the background. I actually ran out of blue paint so I just did that part in crayon.”
“Genius!” shouted a man from the back.
“However did you decide on what subjects were worthy enough for your miraculous art?” asked a posh old British woman near the front, raising her lorgnette to get a better look at the piece on the wall. I shifted my weigh to my other foot and tried to think of an answer.
“Well I have a dog, so I put a dog in. I don’t actually have flowers in my yard like the picture does but I thought they are pretty so I put them in anyway.” The crowd exploded into a thunderous applause and cheers filled the room. A portly man in a strained suit raised his hands to gather their attention and began to spoke.
“Such insight! The mind of an artist can transcend normal perceptions of reality and bring forth beauty which is physically non-existent. We truly are witnessing the Van Gogh of our time!”
Alison grabbed my arm and stepped forward to address those in front of us. “Why yes, my soon-to-be-husband is one of the greats!” She kissed my cheek and rested her head on my shoulders. “I’m so lucky to have such a brilliant man.” I struggled to remember why I went through the effort of painting in the first place. The hot girl I saw in the cafeteria at University would never give me the time of day, no matter how blunt my hints were. I saw her sitting outside with the art class painting landscapes one day and knew that was my in. I looked up the names of some old dead painters so I could fake my way through conversation with her, but to be honest I didn’t care about anything she had to say. I just spent all our time together wondering how much of her chest was padding. It only now occurs to me I had sold my life away for a booty call.
As the exhibit curator brought a cadre of photographers over to capture images of me with my creation, Alison squeezed closer to me to ensure she was in the camera. This girl was most certainly not worth cutting an ear off for.
Seeing that everyone was distracted by the piece of garbage I had on display I snuck away outside. Breathing in the fresh air free of expensive perfume or the smell of finger-paint I considered the quickest way to fake my death. I was looking up places to buy fake skeletons when I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, wearing simple clothes that didn’t look like they cost an exuberant amount of money. My eyes followed her as she made her way down the street and into a store named The Instrument Emporium.
Looks like daddy was going to be a musician.
| "Mother fucking Bob Rossing this bullshit, '*oh, happy little tree, merry fucking mountain*'. I hope those ASSHATS down at the gallery appreciate the subtle yet grotesque way this picture says 'go fuck yourselves in the ass with a rake.' This is why art is bullshit. It's meaningless. I could paint a baboons inflamed hemorrhoid ridden asshole into the center of this painting and they would bat an eye. You know what. I'm going to do it. I'll tell them its symbolic. Christ I hate the pretentiousness of the whole fucking thing. It disgusts me. I mean, they're not even artists. Most artists I know aren't that bad. Maybe get fucked up a little too much, but still. The fucking critics. '*Oh I'm a frail bald man with a goatee, I must know everything about modern culture. If only I could snap a picture on my iphone instead of having my grandson explain it. Dah dee dahh dee dah de* blah blah fucking blah'. I swear to god I'm going to be Picasso by the time we have our first kid. Or kill her. Who knows, with all these paint fumes starting to get to me!"
"Honey, are you all set for the Gala and grand reveal?"
"Yes sugar plum drop. Just finishing up." He said spitting on the canvas.
The Gala was extravagant, luxurious and depraved. A thin bald man with a goatee approached the "Masterpiece" part way through the night. He couldn't help but pontificate on the mastery that was the symbolism within the baboons swollen anus. Of course, the Iraq War, feminism, African diaspora were all mentioned casually as influences. Meanwhile, the painter was downing grain alcohol in a janitors closet, what a critic would the next day call, "A brilliant performance piece in homage of twentieth century workers rights movements." | 2018-03-27T17:11:00 | 2018-03-27T16:43:08 | 455 | 151 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth, they are so far in technology we had no means of fighting back until we made a critical discovery, since they are so advanced they lack in interpersonal skills which makes them incredibly vulnerable to grade school level psychological attacks. those poopy heads are screwed | The president felt foolish sitting at the table, staring at the menacing, multi-limbed, scaly creature in front of her, knowing what she had to say.
*It’s the only way,* the VP had insisted just moments earlier. *Don’t forget that. Our analysts spent a week coming up with this.*
“We would like to negotiate the surrender of Earth,” the president began, slowly. “Just as long as you as you don’t try to join the cool kids.”
*“What?” the alien communicated, telegraphing the words directly into the minds of the three world leaders sitting in front of it. “What does this mean?”*
“You can have Earth. You can do what you want with our land, our resources, our people. Just don’t ask to join the cool kids,” the Chinese Premier said.
*“What is this? ‘Cool kids’?”*
“It’s a group you can’t be a part of. You wouldn’t understand,” the New Soviet PM said with his trademark smug smile. “You’re just a poopy head.”
*“What does this mean?!” the alien asked, its anger rattling the three leaders. But the humans hadn’t gotten to where they were without nerves of steel, so they hid their emotions well.*
“If you have to ask, you don’t know. If you have to bully it out of us, you’ll never know. It’s just something that if you know, you know. And you can join. But if not, you just can’t.”
\-
So the aliens did invade, a few days later. They entered and billeted themselves in homes all across the globe, from the Himalayas to the deserts of Namibia.
Their very first question was almost always, what does ‘the cool kids’ mean?
And as the humans were instructed to do, they shook their heads and insisted, if you have to ask, you don’t know. And if you hurt us, you’ll never know.
The aliens were dumbfounded. The Prime Leader was particularly stuck by this riddle. He had considered torture or emotional extraction using the vast amounts of hardware at his disposal, but them the Premier’s words returned to haunt him. What was this knowledge that seeming had no source? That just came without a question? It seemed to run counter to the very principles his civilization had been built on: dare to ask, and don’t stop until you get an answer.
But how did you get an answer without asking?
\-
Finally, he gave up. The president was called for another meeting, and with the world watching, she was beamed up to the mothership.
This time, there were no armed guards, and no torture devices. Just the Prime Leader, sitting, defeated, with a question. *“Please, just tell me.”*
“I can’t do that,” the president responded.
*“Can you tell me why you can’t do that?”*
“Because we’re not friends. It’s something you only tell your friends.”
*“What is a friend? How do I become one?”*
“Friends do things for each other. So you would have to do something for me, and I'll do something for you in return. That's how it works.”
*“What is it? I will grant your wish, if it is within my bounds to do so.”*
“Leave Earth, and never return. There are so many planets and species out there for you to colonize. Just leave ours alone. We promise we’ll keep to ourselves.”
*The alien thought this over, and decided that in the end, knowledge was the most valuable commodity.*
“All right. I will grant your request. Tomorrow, my soldiers will exit the homes of your civilians. Just please tell me.”
The president took a deep breath, and recited the answer her team had come up with.
“To be a cool kid, you have to have swag.”
*“And what…is this swag?”*
“Swagger. You’ve never heard of it?”
*“No. What is it?”*
The president shrugged, and smiled. The situation was going perfectly, the advantage swinging in the humans favor. "If you have to ask, you don’t know. And if…”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | The residents of Earth were panicked, and rightfully so. The creatures that stood before them were terrifying. They were darker than black itself and seemed to be melting into themselves. Glorified ink blobs with eyes like voids. There were thick, spider-like arms sprouting from random places on their bodies. Among them were smaller ones. These had managed to melt themselves together into some sort of unholy amalgamation of deep shades of red and blue.
"Monster me" came a voice from beside you. Outstretched was the hand of a 16 year old who looked 40. Sporting shoes that may have once been white, ripped jeans and an obnoxious white t-shirt with the words "Can't touch this" imprinted on it.
"Excuse me?" You respond, confused.
"Monster me" He repeated, gesturing with his hand. "Like the drink. Gimme one."
"I don't... have one?" You say, suddenly remembering the dire situation you're in.
"Well then... I guess I'll have to manage" He said, stepping toward the masses
"HEY!" He yelled at them
"WHO THE H-E-DOUBLE FUCK ARE YOU?" The... heads(?) of the creatures turned toward him
"YEAH, I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU DUMBHEAD"
"aNd jUsT wHo dO yOu tHiNk yOu aRe?" Came the chilling, withered voices of the creatures
"Me? ME? I AM-" He grabbed two Monster Energy drinks from thin air and proceeded to smash them in his fists
"I AM KYLE, NOW FIGHT ME YOU DUM-DUMS!"
The whole ordeal is slightly amusing, and despite yourself you stand behind a dumpster and watch. This kid was gonna get himself killed. Oh well, might as well get some entertainment out of it.
"y-YoU hAvE nO rIgHt tO sPeAk tO mE lIkE tHiS" Said one of the masses
Strangely enough they seemed to step back a bit. Maybe the yelling scared them?
"THIS IS FOR YOU DAD" He grabbed a can full of Axe Body Spray and began... You're not quite sure what he was doing but it seemed to be working? The aliens looked concerned and seemed to be getting ready to fight.
"YOU POOPY DUMB IDIOTS ARE GONNA GET THE HELL OFF OF MY PLAYGROUND" He screamed
The aliens started... crying? You took pity on them for a second before remembering that they had knocked down several buildings, killing hundreds of innocents. Then remembering that made you realize that Kyle was probably dead.
Kyle jumped at them, armed with body spray and spray paint.
*Cue frozen screen and cut* | 2019-07-30T00:32:07 | 2019-07-30T00:01:38 | 726 | 123 |
[WP] It’s your 20th birthday. You wake up, open your eyes...and see your bedroom as it was ten years ago. Turns out the past ten years of your “life” were just a very vivid dream... | Jake was careful. The train was moving fast, and it wasn't easy to hold onto the roof. Men in black suit blocked both sides of the roof.
Jake had no other choice. He had to jump from the fast-moving train. Even though it was really fast, staying on that train was a death sentence. A really shitty birthday.
He jumped.
However, he didn't land. Instead, he fell through the ground, and the world started to change. The ground was like a trampoline; he went down and down and down. That is until he was pushed back into the sky.
He finally opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. It was a familiar one. He knew that ceiling so well, yet it was like a distant memory.
"Happy birthday!" a familiar voice came. Jake's mother entered the room, a huge decorated box in her hands. "How did my birthday boy sleep?" she asked.
Jake, however, kept staring the mirror in front of him, seeing himself ten years younger.
Jake had slept multiple times before, but none of the wake ups had been like that. He had every single memory in his mind. He still knew what he had learned in those past ten years.
He looked at the present; remembering so clearly when he got that same present ten years ago.
"You look sweaty," mother said, showing some worry on her face.
"I'm fine," Jake whispered. The voice was off, and higher pitched. He was surprised by that as well. He didn't remember it being that high. "Can I open the present?" he asked.
"Of course, darling!"
Jake nodded and started unpacking it. He was excited but cautious. His heart was racing since he wondered if in it is the same present he got ten years ago. That would mean more likely time travel, not a dream.
A car. A big remote controlled car.
Jake released a sigh and faked a smile. "Thanks, mom! I have always wanted that!" Of course, he lied. He didn't even remember what he wanted back then. One thing was certain, though. The present was different. It wasn't the same world he had been moments ago.
It was a bit disappointing, but at the same time, he was okay.
"Now, get up, school starts in thirty," Jake's mother said.
Jake eyes widened. "School?" he asked.
"Yes, school. It's not weekend yet."
He didn't understand how he kept his calm. Was it thanks to his real age - that he was ten years older? School, however, instantly broke his composure.
"Fuck..."
"Jake! Language!"
---
/r/ElvenWrites | "This time I'm going to make it right." I think to myself as I look in the mirror. I will pay attention in class, I will be more confident in myself, and I will try my best. However, it didn't feel right. Nothing seemed to be the same as I remembered.
It was small changes at first, but then things began to diverge. All of sudden, I began to realize that my life had completely changed. I had moved to a different city, corporations that existed before were not around, and famous people I knew weren't staring in roles.
After just a couple months, nothing was the same. It was as if I was living a completely different life.
*What do I do now?*
Things began to converge again. Events that seemed foreign at first, now bring upon strong feelings of dé·jà vu. I move back to my hometown, familiar faces resurface, and I become lazy again.
One night I wake up, and realize I am back to where I started. I look in the mirror and think to myself, "from now on, I will not worry so much of what could have been!"
| 2018-05-01T04:25:43 | 2018-05-01T00:45:58 | 57 | 13 |
[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | The cosmos is relatively easy to meddle with. A swipe of the finger, and you can toss around asteroids or zap a few nebulas into existence.
We set up some ground rules a long time ago. Galaxies have to stay in rough interstellar arrangements. Once you create a star, it has to die on its own. And most importantly, if any living species are discovered on a planet, let them live.
Archie changed the framework of a constellation or two, just to see if anyone would notice. Minerva decided to set Neptune on fire and then fizzle it out, on and off, like a light switch. It was funny for a while, but then it just became another distraction.
One day I caught Dave chuckling to himself. He's always been a bit of a lone wolf, but he knows a few good party tricks.
"What's so funny there, champ?"
Dave grinned. "Oh, you'll know soon enough."
"Come on. A little hint?"
He tilted his head back and cackled. "All right, all right. Let's just say I put the Sun in Galaxy 672B on its own little trajectory."
"What do you mean?"
"Check the map."
I ran back to the control center and pulled up the chart for 672B. The Sun appeared to be on track to hit the Earth, but not for a while - couple billion years, give or take a few million.
I hate to admit it, but I honestly forgot about it. That is, until I saw Dave muttering to himself at a galactic get-together.
"What's wrong, man?"
He curled his upper lip and polished off a glass of stardust. "The humans on Earth, 672B, are heating up their own planet. Driving vehicles around, spewing waste into the atmosphere. It'll be burned to a crisp in the blink of an eye."
"And what's the problem with that?"
Dave coughed. "Those fuckers ruined my joke."
***
/r/GigaWrites | "Hey Tony," John said "in ten thousand years pull my finger."
"Okay, sure" Tony said
Ten thousand years pass.
"Well, John. It's time for me to pull that finger of yours."
"Here it is." John said with a grin.
Tony reached for Johns finger. As he pulled it John audibly farted.
"Aww, gross!" Tony said, pinching his nose.
"Haha, gotcha!" John farted. | 2017-06-22T19:53:14 | 2017-06-22T19:04:31 | 763 | 309 |
[WP] Interstellar wars are quick, most species die of shock quite quickly. Getting shot was a death sentence. That was until humans joined the Galaxy... | (Inspired by an old post of 'why humans would be terrifying to alien life')
**Memo To Management:**
As you all know, a new species is attempting to join the federation. While we welcome our Human brethren to the federation with open arms, I would like to take some time to remind everyone that splinter-factions and personal differences are always a possibility among non-hive mind species, and that cultural differences may lead to minor quarrels. This is not to say that Human bandits will suddenly spring up like low-budget Nth era entertainment, but should you or your subordinates find themselves entangled with Humans, there are some safety guidelines to be aware of.
First off, if you are scratched, bitten, or spit on by a Human, immediately seek medical decontamination. Humans are a host to countless pathogens and microbacterial life, many of which are highly infectious. Do not assume that because a Human looks healthy that it does not carry pathogens, as they are able to become carriers to many diseases without being visibly afflicted by them. Kindly remind any Humans to maintain a distance of at least three feros from you, as they are capable of accidentally spreading pathogens at alarming distances (see chapter 5.1 of the Handy Human Handbook, "Sneezing").
We should never assume that any species will be hostile simply because we do not understand them. However, please be aware that not all of a species will be law-abiding, and should one ever find themselves in an escalating quarrel with a Human, you should first attempt to find a diplomatic solution, or barring that, surrendering to their demands until law enforcement has arrived. Do not attempt to engage in physical combat with a Human - natural pain suppressors stored in their bodies prevent them from feeling the full effects of physical trauma during high-stress situations, to the point that even being pierced or cut by heavy weaponry will not necessarily remove a Human from being combat-capable. Humans may even survive having their limbs removed, and there are many documented cases of them continuing to live long lives after losing one or multiple body parts - the only way to win is not to fight.
Furthermore, one should not attempt to run away from an angered Human, unless assisted by some mode of transportation. Human stamina is virtually limitless, and there are records of modern Humans holding tests of endurance, a competitive sport which will often pit hundreds, if not thousands, of Humans to determine which will endure the longest. While their stamina is not all at the same level, Human history shows traditional hunting strategies involving chasing their prey for an entire day-cycle until it collapses from exhaustion. Even temperature extremes do not take full effect on Humans, and may endure in conditions below freezing for an alarming duration without their internal organs shutting down. Should you find yourself in quarrel with a Human and unable to come to a diplomatic solution, it would be easier to trick the Human long enough to find some sort of transportation than to attempt to escape unassisted.
Before I end this note, I would like to remind everyone that Humans are not our enemies, and though they do come from a war-like culture where fights break out over minute differences between each other, that they are not necessarily incapable of being friendly, and we hope to incorporate them as valuable trading partners and allies as time goes on. However, if you are ever invited to "go drinking", be advised that while it is a sign that the Human has developed trust in you, this ritual involves consuming poisons that are strong enough to affect even the Humans themselves, and often causes them to become violent as a result; should a Human invite you to such an event, we would ask that you politely decline. This is not the same as being invited "to tea", though one should still wear an environment suit, following the warnings mentioned above, and to bring your own food to avoid contamination.
Regards,
Droxgar Bas Zora,
Human Resources
D-5926-bx&1
DBZora#Tamarania.Feds | The stars were massive, and humanity was new, most species had awaited the next enlightened age of a new species, and intergalactic law had held them in their patience until now. Now there were free game, equals to all whom would have at them. Of course, not all were simply waiting to see. Some saw profit.
The first of the star riders to greet them was also there first conflict, the Hyrumari, a species that occupied the nearest galaxy. One was not a enlightened species until they found a practical way around the simple confines of the law of light, but distance mattered even to those without that restriction.
The hyrumari were generally androgynous tri pod creatures with two slits where a mouth would be and thousands of tendrils around the shoulders, with these they could create biocurrents that produced a effect like magnets to lift nearly anything and manipulate it in 360°, and they were fearsome for their powerful minds to comprehend these shapes and master them, making them savants at 3d movements and spatial reasoning, and their unique upward facing eyes gave them a unique ablitiy to see anything but what was beneath them, which their tendrils would sense.
However the bipedal race they saw was strange, with forward facing ships, mainly dealing in longitude and latiude, chasing each others tails to ambush them like prey. The sphere ships only had one false side they was visually indistinguishable from the rest of the ship, so this would be another race that was easily bested and destroyed.
But when their ion cannons and gamma pulse wave cannons tore through the side of the enemy vessel it did not falter, merely losing some speed and weight it forced itself to face them and used it's considerable forward facing firepower to obliterate their enemies as fast as possible.
The hyrumari forced to retreat found the effectiveness a aerodynamic Lancer could be on hounding it's enemies, even in space. When they fled to their homeworlds they found that their ships weren't the only parts of them to be undying, they could rip and blast and obliterate anything but their cores and heads and they would still come, and even hitting there was not always enough to stop this morbid assualt.
In a matter of months they had dominated and were now assimilating the once thought impossible to invade hyrumari.
The rest of the star riders knew the die was cast, it was time to teach the newcomers the rules... | 2019-10-25T09:25:43 | 2019-10-25T08:49:00 | 171 | 41 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | continued straight from the prompt...
__
Now... Luckily I'm a redditor, and things like being summoned against your will into an unknown world/situation are a common topic so I had thought through this scenario before. Otherwise I would appear quite confused at my situation and not at all in control of the situation.
"Why have you summoned me?" I bellowed in my best impression of pompous and evil.
The sorcerer scrambled back a few steps, "I have summoned you to make a deal."
I was not sure what it was I was supposed to provide, but as this seemed fairly common for magic I hoped it was something I was capable of.
"You know the price?" I asked haughtily.
"Certainly, one talent of gold and my immortal soul."
I pondered this silently, I had only heard of talents in bible stories but I remembered someone saying that was about 75lbs. I unfortunately did not trade in gold on a regular basis and my phone probably couldn't access the internet from wherever this was; but I knew it was something like $1000 an ounce. 16 ounces per lb x 75 lbs... screw it I pulled out my phone.
The mage reacted with alarm, "What infernal device is that? Know that I am protected by the circle!"
I held up a finger to shush him as I opened the calculator app and figured out how much money I stood to make on this deal...whatever it was. I whistled between my teeth as the number stared up at me $1.25 Million.
"Stop! Stop I can't take it!" The magician screamed. "The circle should have protected me!"
I looked back at him dumbly with my face lit softly by my glowing cell phone screen. "Stop...what?"
"That noise! We cannot stand the sound of your chanting and whatever it is you were doing with your voice just now!"
I once again went silent, not knowing that the otherworldly light of my screen was making me look quite demonic at the moment. "You mean... whistling?" I chirpped softly at the end to demonstrate.
"YES!"
Interesting... "So what is the task you have summoned me for?"
The mage stood back upright, "I need you to defeat the army at our doorstep, use your damning tongue to rain down hell and bring madness to the troops."
"You want me to... sing?"
A tentative nod.
"Okay... where is this army?"
The sorcerer pointed to an arrow slit window in the side of the tower. I could see several dozen burly men in various armor standing outside the gates a dozen feet below... this was an army?
"This is an army?" I said intelligently, "Where I come from, an army is usually hundreds if not thousands of men."
"We are aware of your warlike ways and preference for violence but that is not our way. We only wish to drive away the force below as quickly as possible and make them think twice about attacking again."
I looked down at the phone in my hand again and brought up a video I kept on it to send to my friends randomly. I was about to hit play when I turned back to the mage, "You might want to cover your ears."
> We're no strangers to love
>You know the rules and so do I
>A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
>You wouldn't get this from any other guy
>I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
>Gotta make you understand
>Never gonna give you up
>Never gonna let you down
>Never gonna run around and desert you
>Never gonna make you cry
>Never gonna say goodbye
>Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you...
| There were many questions I had, but I wasn't entirely sure how to react. I *was* in my house, but *now* I'm in a budget Lord of the Rings.
That included the wizard who looked like he'd both just pissed himself and had won the lottery.
"Good... GOOD... Now, my slave... DESTROY MY ENEMIES! Turn their skulls into paste! Their bodies into ash! Send their souls... TO OBLIVION!" The mage throatily screeched at me, followed by perhaps *the* most cliche evil laugh in the history of human existence.
"Uhhhh... Wut?"
"You... You're... Not obeying?"
"Sorry dude, but who are you again?"
"ME? I'M THE LEGENDARY WIZARD SALTHAZAR THE ALMIGHTY, DESTROYER OF REALMS!"
"So... Why do you need me?"
"I... Um... It's a rest day."
"Uh-huh..."
"Don't question me! You're the demon here!"
Yeah... Real funny dude...
Wait what?
"Demon? Me?"
"Yes! That's why I summoned you here!"
"Uhhh..."
"And now that you are here... You shall slay my enemies, and bring this world to its knees!"
"Uhhh... Sorry dude... I don't do anything unless it's in writing..."
"You mean a contract? Never fret! The mighty Salthazar has one right here!" He shoved a piece of parchment in my face, the various scribbles were probably words... Right?
"Uh... Huh... Yeah... This is..."
"Now... Destroy, my Demon!"
This guy's clearly mad. Time to find my way back.
Looking around, I quickly formed a plan.
I ran around, blowing out all the candles and knocking over as much as I physically could, just generally causing as much damage as possible.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP DESTROYING MY WORKSHOP!"
"What? You said "Destroy". You never said *what* to destroy after signing the contract." I shrugged and carried on laying ruin to what I'm guessing is this mans livelihood.
Salthazar sulked and slumped into a corner, "Now I see why they told me never to trust Demons..." | 2017-05-12T10:38:10 | 2017-05-12T09:29:02 | 427 | 65 |
[WP] Earth is sold on the Galactic Black Market. The Buyer is woefully underprepared to handle how defiant Humanity is | > Tell me more about these "Americans"....
Well sir, they're a very cantankerous bunch. As you can see, within what they believe to be their territory they possess more firearms than actual humans who could use them. While they may seem entirely split culturally I assure you the second you set foot within the territory they claimed and try to take it, every single one of them will be more than happy to pick up arms and start shooting. It's a proud part of their culture standing up to authority, their entire nation was founded when a bunch of drunk libertarian farmers decided to start a war with the most powerful empire on their planet... and they won...
> I see, and the second super power, the Chinese. What are they like?
Also not the ideal place to begin sir. While they lack the gun ownership of the Americans, they make up for it in a near fanatical loyalty to the party and a complete disregard for the life of the individual. The humans call this "Communism" and truth be told, it's terrifying. There was another nation that used such doctrine, they have the opposite problem as the Americans. They had more people than guns. So they willingly sent their own people into combat unarmed, with instructions to simply pick up the rifle of the person next to them when he died. Drowning the enemy in a veritable tide of bodies. Oh, and if any retreated, they would be shot by their own forces for cowardice.
> How about this little spot in the middle? Along the coast of that sea?
Sir that would be Israel. And it would be most unwise. Do you see all of Israels neighbors? Well they once decided to attack Israel, surrounded as it was. The war was over in six days. Israel slaughtered all that stood against them, expanded their territory to nearly triple, and did it all inside of a week because their god tells them not to work on the Sabbath. Their special forces are the most elite in the world, routinely violating international sovereignty to hunt down criminals from a war some 80 years in the past, and their snipers like to play a game called "Count the kneecapds" where they intentionally shoot at a non-vital body part to cripple their target for life and draw out more targets.
> Anything *ELSE* I need to know about?
Yes sir, one last major power of note. This large desolate frozen wasteland. The humans call it "Russia". The russians employ what is called a "Dead Mans Hand". This is a fail-deadly deterrent. Should Russia ever fall, there are protocols in place to launch the entirety of its thermo-nuclear arsenal at pregenerated targets throughout the world. It doesn't matter *WHO* takes them out, they fully intent to strike against everyone in a final act of vengeance. If you fuck with them, they are fully ready to end the entire planet turning it into a radioactive desolate wasteland.
> Is there any place that *IS* safe to land?
Yes sir. This region here, on what the humans call "Yurop". We've determined they pose no threat and will happily capitulate to any demands made.
> France... hmm, well I suppose you have to start somewhere. | Jason watched as an alien ship landed just inches from his brand new car. The ship’s hatch opened to reveal a stout man with a beard to his toes. They stared at each other for a few awfully long minutes before Jason asked, “Who are you, and why is your entire ship neon freaking green!?” That did nothing to distract the man from this unnatural staring contest. Unluckily for him, Jason won 5 medals in a row for being the best at staring contests and wasn’t afraid to go all night. But, this wasn’t SCP-173 and if Jason blinked all that would happen was more staring.
Jason was contemplating calling 911 when his best friend jumped on top of the man with no remorse for the man’s eyeballs. “Get off me you pesky humans! I bought this planet and you shall listen to me!” He shouted, clearly agitated. All Jason and his friend could do was laugh at this man, owning Earth!? Who does he think he is. First a new coronavirus and now aliens thinking they could storm our planet and take control?!
Unsurprisingly the police showed up and joined in on the now 14-way staring contest. It was getting heated, everyone was about to blink, but none succumbed to the bliss of non-dry eyeballs. Finally the man blinked and that seemed to make the police think it was arresting time. The swarmed in on the man and handcuffed him in 11 different places because even police officers want credit for winning staring contests. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MY SERVANTS. I BOUGHT YOU! YOU’RE MINE” he shouted as he was shoved into a police car. Jason just stared and wondered. What other fantasies could life bring? He may have been hyped to see more aliens tomorrow but darkness was a threat. And so were viruses. | 2020-03-24T11:33:41 | 2020-03-24T09:04:38 | 131 | 80 |
[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.
| 2017-09-14T16:56:22 | 2017-09-14T09:12:27 | 136 | 11 |
[WP] Drunkenly, you accidentally pour vodka into your pet's water bowl. As a result, your pet breaks the number one rule: do not speak to your owner... Ever.
Did NOT expect this amount of replies. Thanks guys! It'll be an interesting read. | "Is it true, you're going to let me die?" Daisy says as she lets out a whimper
"What the fuck did you just say?" Shouts Jeremy at the old family dog he was left to care for after his parents were T-Boned by a drunk driver a fortnight ago.
"They just inject a needle and I go to sleep? Will I feel any pain?" a sadness rolls over Daisy's eyes hoping she has misunderstood her fate.
"The fuck?! Is this the movie TED 2?!?" a drunken Jeremy says laughing to himself
Daisy jumps up on Jeremy's lap in an attempt to bring him back to reality. "Jeremy, it's me, I know you're drunk but you're not imaging things, it's me."
Jeremy eyes widen, he can feel the pressure from his eyelids in his forehead. "Daisy you can talk!?" -- "Yes, Jeremy. Please, why are you putting me down I don't want to die?"
"Dais, it's not like that, I love you, I just don't have the money for your surgery, you're getting old"
"Do you think there is some kind of dog health insurance you can take out with out having to list my pre-existing conditions??!"
"Dais, I don't really know much about human health care, I don't know if that exists, this is really confusing"
"Please, Jeremy, please don't let me die is the anything I can do to change your mind" Daisy, still on his lap snuggles her snout under her chin, this has always works for treats, maybe it will work now. She can feel Jeremy's body start to relax, she starts to lick his neck.
Jeremy has always been a sucker for this type of attention, she's licked many of his tears away that were from his many failed relationships growing up.
"Jeremy, Please. I'll do anything" Daisy whispers into his ear under a warm breathe. Jeremy slowly exhausts his lungs, uncomfortable that he his slightly aroused by Daisy's deviant voice. Daisy knows what Jeremy wants, she used sleep in Jeremy's room and watch him with his old girlfriends.
Jeremy leans away, confused, still drunk. Daisy backs off and starts digging at the zipper near Jeremy's crotch like shes digging for her old bone in the yard. She can feel his cock get harder with every swipe.
"Let me get that!" Jeremy shouts as he unzippers his pants and takes out his cock.
--- That's enough...
| *Did I just fucking say that?*
What's in that water? My owner's looking at me funny. No, leering. Leering, the fuck was that thing? Leering Jenkins? No. Leeroy. Jenkins. Or Oh Long Johnson? Fucker never stopped watching that.
*Wait. Have I been saying all of this out loud?*
Is that... is that a fucking camera? That fucker recording me in my time of need? No, no no no. No cameras, John. No milk. Just stop this fuckin' ground from moving, please, I need to get off.
*The cat society is going to be fucking pissed.*
I swear to God John, if I see this fuckin' clip on YouTube I'm going to shit in your bed, you hear me? I will climb on your drapes and descend on you like a goddamn panther.
You did this to me, John. *You did this to me.*
*If the cat society comes knocking at our door I'll be taking your candyass down with me.* | 2016-08-02T19:04:22 | 2016-08-02T17:15:21 | 437 | 295 |
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series. | "Darling, have you seen my flash drive?"
Anna's kitchen was the most disorganized room Chris had ever seen. The counter was littered with cereal boxes, stray plates and forgotten cups of tea. Knives lurked in her dishcloths, waiting to fly out at unwary users, and the floor was white with spilled flour. Stacks of dusty tomes rose like pillars from the floor; mysterious, leather-bound volumes with titles like *A Compendium of Love Potions* and *Cooking Up Magic: A Practical Guide*. The only clean surface was the electric stovetop, slowly bending under the weight of a great iron cauldron, in which Anna, the scatterbrained love of his life, was currently brewing tea.
"Your what?" she replied, tucking strands of hair behind her pointed hat. "I don't think…"
"Well, it was here," Chris insisted. "And darling, what's with the hat? It's not going to be Halloween for another three months." He couldn't resist teasing her about such things, so obvious despite – or perhaps because of – her frequent denials.
"Oh," Anna gasped, reaching up to feel the stiff black fabric. "I forgot!"
She rushed out of the room, flour swirling in her wake, and returned a moment later, hatless and flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so forgetful!" she exclaimed. "Well, at least I'm not a witch! They don't, um, exist…haha…"
"Couldn't you, you know, write some magic to help you remember?" he persisted, now shuffling through scrolls of parchment in search of the elusive drive.
"No, because I'm not a– And anyways, you don't *write* magic. You weave it with words and wands. It's not code."
"You certainly have a lot of writing about magic," Chris pointed out, now crawling across the floor. "Anyway, speaking of code, are you absolutely sure you haven't seen my flash drive? It's got all my project backups on it."
"That's not– Oh!" Anna exclaimed as a faint tap-tap-tapping echoed in the hall. "I know where it went!" She dashed out of the room again, pulling a long, thin stick from some hidden pocket of her flowing dress.
"Well, what's that, if not your magic–"
"It's a fancy chopstick," Anna snapped, leaping over a heap of scrolls in her sudden, mad dash through the apartment. A faint tapping preceded her before fading into the living room. "Come back–" she shouted at nothing, leaving Chris at the counter, perplexed. A jet of sparks shot out the end of the "chopstick" as she rounded the corner into the kitchen once again, and with a flash, something…appeared on the floor.
It was a laptop. With *legs*.
"Bad Mimi!" Anna scolded, advancing on the strange machine. "That's not your drive. Give it back!"
The laptop growled, but a threatening flick of Anna's wand silenced its speakers. *Squeak,* it said, trying to scurry into a drawer.
"Eject it!" she commanded. Red sparks danced in her hand, and the laptop hurriedly ejected Chris's drive and ran away, it's light feet tap-tap-tapping against the tiled floor.
"Honestly, that machine is the most poorly-trained, disobedient thing…" She trailed off, catching Chris's half-astonished, half-amused gaze. "No, I'm not a–"
"Witch, I know. It's okay. Can I have my flash drive back?" he asked, shaking his head in silent amazement.
*****
Edit: Wow, my first gilded post! Thank you!!! | "Hey babe what's this?"
My lover whipped around. It was like catching a teen beating it off.
That's how I knew how she felt, ashamed and embarrassed. But I knew that if I didn't press through the thick uncomfortableness, I would never really get the truth out of her. I extended my arm, holding a thin wooden dowel between my first and middle fingers. I twirled it like a cigarette, examining the arcane arabic sigils burnt into its back.
"Looks almost, magical wouldn't you say?"
Crisp eyes stared back, these flickering steel orbs beat a staccato rhythm into the room around them, searching less for answers and more for excuses. Their scrutiny interrupted by streaked ribbons of coiled blond hair.
"It's a vibrator."
Bullshit. As a connoisseur of the finer things in life I could tell this was no hitachi wand, but even to the dying breath, I think with the lesser of my two brains.
"So where is the on button?"
I whispered these words, softly, almost playfully into her ear, pulling back a strip of hair, and tucking it in place.
But as wily as my willy is, it still cannot hold a candle to the evasive powers of my witch.
A flash of light
A smoke bomb went off
I fell to the ground, clutching my shattered eardrums.
She is gone, off into her room.
Pain fills the gap between my eyes and ears, an electrical pain.
I cried.
A tap on my shoulder alerts me, I hadn't heard come out of her room of course.
She wields a vibrator, this time, it's real.
She gives me a wink, and starts to unbutton my shirt.
I screech, quite unaware of how loud I am,
"GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL!"
She looks upset, as if I had put her in a time out. Pouting face and all she sulks to the closet and picks up a broom, drapes her legs over the side and offers me a hand.
"No fucking way." I thought.
I take her hand, in her palm are the car keys.
"you know I can't drive" She giggles.
I cry.
| 2015-08-17T22:17:46 | 2015-08-17T20:40:55 | 242 | 10 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again | I died choking on lunch in my office. Ironic, because we’d just spent the Friday two weeks ago going over CPR and first aid procedures, but obviously that didn’t do much good. I suppose I could have done more to help myself - I have my own office, so there was no one there to see me clutching at my throat. I could have taken the few steps into the hallway, but I didn’t. I stood at my desk and tried to lodge the cucumber (cucumber! What a waste!) out by slamming myself against the top of my office chair.
Eventually, things just went black. When I came to, he was standing there, brandishing a clip board. “All right,” he said. “Ready to go?”
He didn’t fit any of the depictions of himself I’d seen on tv, but I knew right away who he was. That’s how it is with those in power though. They certainly don’t need a name tag.
I looked at my half finished salad on my desk, on top of the stack of paperwork I needed to have done for the audit next week. My boss had been in this same office just hours before, squeezing the bridge of her nose, telling me how stressed everyone was and how important finishing up those files was.
I was saying the words before I’d even thought them through - “Maybe I could just have a little extra time? To finish this up?”
Death made a mark on his clipboard and shrugged his shoulders. In a blink, he was gone. I sat back down at my desk and finished my salad.
A month later, I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep at my desk. The cucumber that had been lodged in my throat never came out, so it made sense I’d imagined it all. By six months, I was sure it had just been a dream. I hadn’t been getting good sleep, anyway, pulling extra hours to get everything done.
A year later, though, he came again. Same clipboard. “Are you ready?”
I shook my head. Motioned to my desk again - “It seems it never stops piling up, doesn’t it?”
Death made another mark and an expression I couldn’t place. Annoyance? Pity? Again, he was gone in a blink.
And so it happened, year in and year out. He’d always show up and ask if I was ready, and I’d always point out the stack of paperwork on my desk and tell him not quite.
According to my calendar, he should be here in just a few moments. I stayed late all last week getting everything ready. I suppose after so many years, the curiosity has got the better of me.
He arrives right on time. Pulls out his clipboard, asks the standard question. This time, I put the note I wrote to my boss on my desk and stand up. “All right,” I say. “I’m ready to die.”
Death marks his clipboard and reaches one hand out to me and places it on my shoulder. “You’re ready to go now, you mean” he says. “You’ve been dead for twenty six years. Since you choked on that cucumber.”
I don’t understand what he means. Death can see my obvious confusion, and explains further: “You died the first time I came for you. You left earth as you know it at that time. You just weren’t ready to move on. You’ve been here, working away, ever since.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here, everything has been the same. My coworkers, the Chinese food delivery guy, it’s all been there.”
“A representation of it has. But not the real people. This work, it’s not real, of course.” With a wave of his hand, the papers on my desk started to disappear. Another wave, and my desk was gone. Then the walls. Then the ceiling and the floor until we were standing in nothing.
Death pushes me forward. “You’re ready now, though” he says. “That’s all that matters.” | [Poem]
Tim was a man who lived a simple life,
All he wished for was to be happy and light.
So when he took to the skies for the sky-high dive,
He forgot to pull, leaving him barely alive.
An old man in black approaching, robes tattered
Tim now knew notting mattered.
What he didn’t expect, grieving in woe,
He kept muttering out, a simple “No”.
Death stood, with his beard overgrown
Smiling said “Sure.” and left him alone.
Confused, hurt and bleeding,
Tim felt like sleeping.
.
.
.
Tim awoke, in a room of white
He felt dizzy and high as a kite.
The doctors exclamed “A miracle of technology, this was!”
But Tim knew, deep down, that probably wasn’t the only cause.
He continued his life, feeling alright
Finally finding the one to make his wife.
On the day of his wedding, death visited in navy
A sharp looking suit, looking all savvy
Blended in the crowd, he called out
And Tim went to meet him, his time left was surely too little to count.
But all it took was to ask him a question,
For Tim to decide his fate, and ease the tension.
Shocked, relieved, happy and hyped
This was truly the happiest day of his life.
.
.
.
Tim had kids to care for during the years,
But still had time to listen and hear.
Everytime he was asked,
He still answered the same, “I’ll pass.”
“I want to live and see the sights”
“And live with my family, away from heights”
Death nodded, and took his leave
But one year Tim stopped him, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“It’s simple, really.” Death said, now wearing his mask.
“Your stupid death made some gods laugh, telling me to not kill you yet.”
“Wait what the fuck” Tim said, expecting his answer not to be met.
“I’m not kidding, but it’s a lot more complicated”
Tim was then left, his eyes filled with hatred.
With all of his might, he threw one finger to the skies
.
.
.
And then Timmy fucking died.
(No I’m not u/poem_for_your_sprog , but the chance to end it like this tempted me lol. If you guys want me to write another version, let me know.)
(Also sorry for the bad English) | 2019-04-16T13:05:03 | 2019-04-16T06:59:45 | 67 | 22 |
[WP] There are multi-Gods for the multi-verse, and it turns out ours is kind of like the 'cool mom who lets you drink at her house,' though other Gods look at our free will and generally silent deity as bad Godding on His part. | The room was quiet, unassuming, and brown. The carpet was brown. The couch that God was sitting on was a lighter shade of brown. The curtains were brown. The sunlight coming in through the nearby window somehow managed to even be a very pale shade of brown. The deities, flawless in appearance and dressed in dignified robes, were so foreign to the peaceful brown-ness of the room that they seemed to oppress reality itself. By contrast, God was utterly relaxed. He knew that the review was coming. The part of him that cared had faded hundreds of millions of years ago.
"Just... God?" one of the figures said, shaking its perfectly shaped head. "You could have instilled a glorious name for yourself, but you decide to be generic? Why?"
"You let them write books in your own name, and never correct them? Almost all of these words are fiction of a sort. Why not clarify?" the deity asking was painfully beautiful, peering with ice-blue eyes behind an affected pair of golden spectacles.
"You take on their form and grow long hair and a beard? You let yourself *age*?! Does it amuse you to let them dictate your form to you?" another deity demanded. Its amazing musculature rippled across its massive form as it spoke.
One by one, the dozen or so deities shot questions at God. They waited for answers. God did not speak. They argued among themselves. God did not intervene. They accused their host of apathy, nihilism, and deliberate self-sabotage. God did not contest. Finally, they fell silent and stood, glaring at each other and at God. The process of peer review was their most sacred tradition, one that had literally stood for over a hundred billion years. Some resisted it, taking refuge in audacity. Some embraced it, using the advice of others to sharpen their creations. Only one, the one who only called itself "God", simply tolerated it. The other deities hated this, even those who had literally destroyed the concept of hate in their own universe. After an hour of silence, God casually produced a small roll of paper and dried herbs, lit it, inhaled, and then blew a cloud of fragrant smoke in the direction of the deities. They stared at God with disgust.
"You are vile," the painfully beautiful one pronounced. "You are incompetent and base, a stain upon this society of deities. If you cannot even honor our practices, why do you continue the farce of inviting us here and listening? Your history speaks for itself. You are not fit to be one of us!"
God leaned back and cocked an eyebrow at her. He shook his head, chuckled, and took another drag off of his joint. After a long, slow exhale, he finally spoke:
“Yeah, well... you know, that’s just... like, your opinion, man," God said. | They had told him to intervene. They said "inaction in the face of evil is itself an action". And so it was with much thought that he chose the most pious of men, indeed the finest specimen the species had ever produced, to receive the 10 axioms of true knowledge, the 10 essential principles from which all knowledge about the world, indeed all knowledge itself, could be derived....
So it was amidst thunder and lightning, fire and smoke, that the heavens opened and the lord spoke. Just small talk, how are the wives and kids, you know. Being God doesn't mean you can be a jerk, still gotta make the guests comfortable (hmmm where they the guests or was he the guest? save that for Jesus, he like getting hung up on shit like that). After a small time
that little fucker though, Moses, he cracked them.
Then he came back 40 days later and he was like "give me another set".
I was like, "Moses WTF man, I spent all night writing those"
Then he started talking about golden cows or other such gibberish. I tuned him out.
Ya. Sure. Your on your own Moses.
What you gonna do Moses? A million people sit at the foot of the mountain waiting for him to return with the axioms.
little fucker made up his own axioms and said that they were from me. The nerve.
Maybe I'll come back in 10,000 years. The dolphins might have a thumbs by then. | 2017-05-07T08:28:01 | 2017-05-07T08:22:43 | 581 | 45 |
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