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[WP] 'Please Adopt Me', said the box on the side of the road, with the single black puppy in it. So you did. A year later, you realize the breed is a bit complicated, considering it has three heads, a snake tail, and breathes fire. | He scratched softly at the base of the basement door.
I sat at the kitchen table with hollow eyes. The breakfast sandwich steamed alongside the freshly roasted coffee, but I had no stomach for either. I wrung my hands, trying to ignore the smarting scratches down my forearms.
“It’s going to be alright,” I whispered, more to myself than to the monster trapped downstairs. A lump formed in my throat. “I’ll make it right.”
It wasn’t my intention to lock him down there, but I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Not anymore. The twists and turns of life thrust me into an impossible situation; this was the only solution. How was I supposed to know that the small welp I adopted would turn out to be so dangerous?
If I’m being honest with myself, this was my father’s fault. It was his rum-soaked rage that made me slam the door, walk to my car in disgust and start the fateful drive. I threw on “Highway to Hell” and pushed the speedometer until it started wobbling on the top end. I needed a catharsis.
I drove for hours. The evening sun dropped below the trees, the fuel gauge blinked ominously, and I took a final drag from the last cigarette in the glove box. I don’t remember where I stopped. I remember seeing the big cardboard box with the ‘Adopt Me’ sign and praying desperately that someone hadn’t abandoned their baby. It was that kind of neighborhood.
The streetlights cast flickering shadows on the pothole-ridden street. I rolled down my window; the air rushed in, thicker here than at home. It smelled like an odd mix of cherry wood, rotten eggs, and citrus. Stray dogs stalked the shadows, yipping and howling like wolves to fresh meat. I was afraid they hurt the child.
I walked to the box. Every step of my boots echoed on the street. Besides the dogs, the neighborhood was dead silent. My pulse rose, and every hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
The puppy whimpered in the box.
I sighed in relief; it was just a stupid dog. How foolish to get all worked up over nothing!
Then I frowned. There wasn’t a soul in sight. This pup must have been starving, thirsty, and exposed to the elements. I couldn’t just leave it. I scooped it from the box, and it immediately calmed, cooed and licked my wrist with two of its three heads.
I thought it odd—a three-headed dog—but I figured three heads were far better than one. I walked back to my car and named it Pickles. My father did not approve.
But I didn’t give a shit.
Pickles was relatively well-mannered. Sure, he spat fire when he got an upset tummy. I guess I couldn’t blame him; my shithead father dumped a can of Coors into his water bowl. Pickles did his best, but the poor thing was wobbling around for hours, burping smoke and cinders and chasing our family’s cats around the house.
When Pickles grew larger, things escalated. The pup needed food, and the only thing that didn’t cause his stomach to get all rumbly was raw slabs of meat. When he could go a week on two pounds of beef, this wasn’t a big deal, but I soon found myself buying a half-slab of cow every few days.
Pickles ate one of our cats.
Pickles ate one of our neighbor’s dogs.
My father had enough. He gave me an ultimatum: either I fix the problem—or he would—permanently. He went out and bought a twelve-gauge shotgun. I knew what I had to do.
Because I’m staring at the basement door, and I know Pickles is down there. I know Pickles is hungry. And I know that there’s only one way this ends.
I really hope my father doesn’t scuff the door with all the scratching.
Bon Appétit, Pickles.
​
***
More sinking realizations at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | Sighing, I turned to the ground. The special plastic floor was charred black.The trial led to the living room. The culprit was nowhere to be found.
"Oreo ! How many times do I have to remind you, don't burn the floor!"
A dog came out of the room. Oreoresi was a black skinned dog, with 6 beautiful blue eyes. Yes, six. Oreoresi had 3 heads. He also had a snake tail.
Oh, and he breathes fire too. All part of the fun.
He had come from a dream. Have you heard of lucid dreams? The concept is you being conscious that you are dreaming. Lucid dreaming, you could do anything you wanted. Fly. Break the earth into halves. Run at the speed of light. All part of the fun.
Oreo had been on the side of the road. He was in a box. "Please adopt me", it said. Being the nice dreamer that I was, I picked the little doggo up. I was snapped out of the dream just after. The dog was sitting beside me.
Oh shit.
I was scared. Who wouldn't be, having a dog they picked up in a dream come into real life. But I had learned to love him.
Then he had started growing his body parts. First was the 2 heads. Bringing oreo to the vet, i had tried to inquire. What dog? The vet had said. So apparently only i could see him. After time, I had learnt not to ask too many questions. Having a dog was already bliss.
A knock on the door. That was odd.I peeked through the front camera. There were 2 men at the door. One was short, with blonde hair and strangely muffled features. The other was tall, wearing a pair of blue glasses on his head.They both wore uniforms, emblazened with D. O. H. That was strange. Were they government people of some sort?
If so it better to open the door. The short man looked at me, flashing a badge. "D.O.H. We have the understanding that you are currently taking care of a chimera?"
Oreo bounded out. And stopped. He seemed to recgonise the men. A look of fear came into his eyes and he started to whimper. I was thoroughly creeped out.
That was the beginning. It only got worse. I should have never taken oreo. Never. I was about to enter a land full of wonder and mysteries. I spoke the words that would begin my journey.Three words I would never forget.
"Who are you?" | 2019-07-04T07:55:29 | 2019-07-04T07:23:00 | 355 | 150 |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "So, what do you need a lie for?"
I sat behind my dirty desk, covered in take out boxes and cat fur. I sucked on my soggy cigarette noisily, daintily making notes on the back of an envelope.
The man in front of me nervously wrung his hands. He eyed me suspiciously, but I smelled the desperation. Well, most people were pretty desperate to come find my tiny office nestled behind a dumpster.
"I- shit - I need someone to confess to a murder."
I hesitated. Ah, this could get tricky. I snuffed on my cigarette contemplatively. Ricky? Naw, he wouldn't go to prison. There is Amy. But she only had one lie left. This situation will need more. Maybe Michelle? Eh, not clever enough. Then I remembered. Ernesto. 3 lies. Smart. A minority to boot. And he had a family that desperately needed money.
The man in front of me sweated like a pig in a slaughter house, as his round tummy smooshed against my desk. Little numbers popped into my head as I wondered how much his freedom was worth to the sticky little hog.
"Well, Mr. Noname," I drawled, "You do realize lies are a hot commodity. Hmmhmm? Very limited these days. What, with people only able to lie 3 times in their total lives. And humans being natural born liars! It's abysmal, I say. Hmmhmm. And in your situation, we will probably need - ohhhh- all 3 lies. Yes, definitely 3. This can be, hmmhmm, pricey. Hmmhmm."
"Price doesn't matter." The man burst out. I tried to keep my face impassive as I began heaving more money on my imaginary pile.
"Ahh, I see you are eager to have all this business behind you. Hmmhmm. Very good." I tapped my desk and gave him a sideways glance, "Sooooo, who didja kill?"
"What? What does that matter? I just need lies! Nothing more!"
I wagged a finger at him. "Oh, Mr. Noname. It's a very sensitive business this business is, hmmhmm. I need to figure out which one of my pretty little liars can succeed. I need to create a successful... story. So to say." A smile tugged at my lips. "Was it your wife? I betcha it was the wife. It's always the wife."
His face went white and he stood up abruptly. "This is outrageous! I don't have to stand for this!"
"Uh, you just did."
Immediately color began flushing back to his cheeks. "Why you little-" The man blustered for a second, and then with a flourish began stomping out of my alley.
"Oh Senator Calllleeeeeey!" I sang out. The rigidity that struck his back almost sent him squealing onto his face. He glanced back, whites wide.
"What? You got the wrong-" A coughing fit hit him, as he doubled over. Blood spattered on the sidewalk as his nose sprang a leak. Ah, well that answers that question. Not surprising, considering he is a politician. They used up their lies quickly.
I wrinkled my nose. "Seriously, Senator? How stupid do you think I am? How stupid are you trying to lie when you have no more lies? Hmmhmm. Come back here. I have some water. Drink your lie back down, hmmmhmmm."
He weaved back to my table, coughing still keeping him doubled over. I sloshed a half empty water bottle towards him. "It's fancy water. Just for you."
"It's - cough- it's- cough- half empty!"
"I prefer half full. Amazing what people throw out these days. Hmmhmm. Drink, before you choke on your lie."
With a torn grumble, tears and blood streaming down his piggy face, he grabbed the bottle and chugged the remaining water. I tapped my pen on the desk as I appraised the man in front of me.
"$20 million."
The senator spat out the last sip of water. "What?"
"$20 million. $5 mil for each lie. That makes $15, hmmhmm."
"And the last $5 million?" He sputtered.
"That's a bonus for my liar who will be going to prison for you." I glanced up contemplatively at the smog that cuddled amongst the buildings that rose above us. "Actually, hmmhmm, for scum like you, I should make it $10 million. I know who you are, and you are not a very nice man. No one was surprised when your wife was found dead, hmmhmm. So let's make it $25 million. And I need a favor. A favor only a senator could provide."
He glared at me stonily. I knew he wouldn't negotiate. He couldn't really. I was one of the few who could peddle a lie in this city, and - as I shuffled papers on my three legged desk propped up against the dumpster - very difficult to find. He must have pulled a lot of strings already to find me. I knew the moment he stepped curiously into my alleyway that he was a man out of options.
A humorless smile spread across my face. "So what do you say, Senator? Ready to buy a lie?" | Adam came out from his coma sometime around the 5th day after he was admitted to the ICU.
Stefanie heard him stir, coughing in short spurts as he slowly regained his senses. She had been lightly dozing by his side, and she reached for his hand to calm him. Slowly, painfully, he opened his remaining good eye and struggled to focus on her.
“Where… what…” His voice was strained, reedy, perhaps a result of the sore throat he must have from the intubator the doctors had forced down earlier. Or perhaps a result of the blunt trauma he suffered when he crashed through the windshield. It didn’t really matter to Stefanie.
Stefanie caressed Adam’s cheek gently. “Darling, you’re in the hospital. You’ve just had a small accident, that’s all… do you remember anything about how you got here?”
Adam’s brow furrowed in concentration. “No, no I don’t remember… Where are the kids? Are they here?”
Stefanie managed the weakest of smiles. “They’re fine,” she lied for the first time in her life. “They’re downstairs, just for a while.” Which wasn’t a lie, technically, since Timothy was in the morgue at the basement, and Sabrina was in the children’s ICU two floors down, fighting for her life.
“Good, good… wait, why’s your head all bandaged too? And your arm? Were you, like… also…” Adam’s arm flopped back down after his strained efforts to reach out to her. He was evidently still too weak.
“Oh this? It’s nothing, I’ll be fine. I was in the car, when you got into that accident, so here we are.” She omitted to explain that miraculously, she had barely suffered any injuries in the crash. The doctors and paramedics had assumed that to be the cause of her hairline fractures.
She didn’t see the need to clarify that actually, they came from Adam. Maybe the day of the crash, when they were fighting and he forced her and the children into the car, all the while swearing they would all die together. Or maybe the week before, in their last fight. Again, it didn’t really matter to Stefanie.
“… Car? Was I…” Adam’s face visibly blanched. “Was I… drinking again? Did I…”
A wane smile set across Stefanie’s face as she squeezed his hand. “No, it wasn’t your fault,” she lied, for the second time in her life. “The other guy wasn’t looking. He drifted into our lane.”
Adam’s eyelid fluttered as he struggled to keep awake. “Oh, I see. Then, I think I’ll just… sleep some more. I’m so tired. When I’m better, we’ll all go home, ok?” Then, he was out like a light, and soon the rhythmic, steady breaths of deep sleep came.
Stefanie cried then, as silently as she could manage, the sobs coursing through her as she fought to keep them in. She had finally made up her mind. A quick flick of the switch. A deep breath. Then she stood up, all 5.3 feet and 110 pounds of her, and pressed down on Adam’s mouth with her good hand and pinched his nostrils with the other.
The bed frame wobbled, and for a while Stefanie was worried that he would overpower her, just as he always had. But the injuries and multiple surgeries had weakened him, and it was over faster than she thought. When she was sure, she turned the monitoring system back on.
Later, as she made her way down to see Sabrina, an orderly recognized Stefanie and offered a few hasty but soothing words. “Mam, please stay strong. It’s been a big loss for you, but once your husband and daughter get better, well, you guys still have each other. Things will get better.”
“Yes,” Stephanie lied for the last time in her life, “I know we’ll be happy again, some day.”
| 2014-11-15T14:29:05 | 2014-11-15T10:43:05 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] You're a retired adventurer who now works as a local guard for a small village. No one in the village knows that you were an adventurer. One day, an old friend comes to visit you. | The cobbler's daughter plucked a frostrose from the garden and added it to her basket. Recently, she had been getting interested in spellcrafting and Alex had on several occasions offered himself up as a test subject. Healing potions. Agility enhancers. Antidotes. She had managed to mess up them all.
The healing potion burned his skin and Vivari, panicked, threw a bucket of milk over him. The agility enhancer made him walk with a limp for a week and for that time a dark cloud seemed to be hanging over Vivari's head so he decided to keep at it. Let her have some practice. So when she presented him with her latest concoction, a venom antidote, he gave her a big smile and he said, "Let's do it!" Then he heard the rattle.
She shot him a grimaced smile and laughed, awkwardly. "First we need the venom," she said. "Otherwise we won't know if it truly works..."
Alex nearly lost his life that day.
As Vivari passed him with her basket, she brushed the hair from her face and she said, "Are you going to the festival or will you be standing here on the watch for goblins?"
Her eyes with the hue of cinnamon sparkled in the low-hanging sun. Vivari's dress, one of Annacomb Riches' finest works, covered her slender frame like a thing of nature. The pattern made him think of milk with gold spots of honey and his stomach let out a faint growl in seeming agreement.
Alex scratched the back of his head. He hoped she wasn't working her way up to asking him to have another go at it. "Someone's got to be on the lookout for them. Besides, I'm no local. Featherspring means a great deal more to you than he does to me."
The fledgling spellcrafter wrinkled her nose. *Did I offend her?* Alex wondered. "Featherspring was a great adventurer. A treasure to all the realm!" She beat her chest with fervor and her impression of the village elder was spot on. "Featherspring promised a grand return and so we celebrate," said Vivari with melodramatic grandeur, grabbing Alex by the arm, "so that he shall have a feast when he returns! To see that he has not been forgotten! That Rhune remembers the name of Featherspring!" By the end she was slurring her words, like elder Johnroy would after a long night of celebration and copious amounts of mosswine.
"Amazing," said Alex and clapped. "Simply an amazing performance."
Vivari lifted the edges of her summer dress in a curtsy. "Oh no!" she said abruptly. "Over there! A goblin!" She pointed toward the farmlands and Alex instinctively grabbed hold of the hilt of his sword. But when he turned to look there was nothing. And when he turned back he could see Vivari scampering off in a hurry.
He let out a sigh. It was villagers like her he had taken an oath to protect. His life as an adventurer had been one of intensity and excitement, danger as well as treasure lurking behind every corner. But now ...
A mallard walked in front of him on its way to the pond. It let out a meek quack.
"I shall let you live," said Alex. The bird angled its head and looked at him before waddling onward.
He had taken this job because he had come across one too many villages lain to waste by creatures of the abyss. Goblins. Ogres. Wolves. Peace is but an illusion guarded by those who know better. It's good for plainfolk to see life as a thing of quiet. Someplace safe.
"Looking bright, my lad. Keep it up!" Fat Rhens gave a salute as he passed Alex by.
"I would be careful going that way if I were you," said Alex. "I hear someone spotted a goblin."
Fat Rhens laughed and dismissed the idea with a wave of the hand. Alex smiled. It truly seemed a ridiculous notion. When was the last time there had even been a sighting anywhere near Longswood? He'd had an encounter with a mother bear just after his arrival, but nothing had come of it. The bear had wandered back off to the woods and Alex had been embarrassed to receive a celebration in his honor on account of an event he didn't think much of at all. But to the villagers it had been a true scare. And they were always on the lookout for an excuse to celebrate.
As Alex sat down to have his lunch, marmalade porridge, he saw a flock of birds flying off eastwards. Something must have given them a scare. Probably Fat Rhens, Alex figured.
His hands were riddled with scars. The same was true for most of his body, though he had been fortunate to keep his face mostly intact. What would the children think if they were to see a guardsman missing an eye and an ear? They'd be right to think that perhaps wasn't the world so safe after all.
A particularly nasty scar running down the middle of his left arm all the way to his middle finger had been the result of an encounter in the Offlands. His party had received word that mangled body parts had been found in the area nearby. Feet, for the most part. Alex felt strangely offended that some creature out there in the night thought itself above eating human feet, while happily swallowing down the rest.
It was the first time he came face to face with a werebeast. Its breath stank of rotted flesh and it came charging at them as if clad in an aura of pure evil. If it hadn't been for Lance, Alex would today probably be nothing more than a pair of frozen feet up north.
Right then Alex caught hold of a sight that made him feel certain that he had drifted off to sleep. He rubbed his eyes but the sight remained.
"It can't be ..." he said. Garbed in his lavender robe and walking towards him assisted by his driftwood cane was Lance. Or as he was known throughout the realm: Featherspring.
**Part 2 coming right up!** | It was a slow day, it was always a peaceful town, notting happening, or to do but talk and play dice or card games. "Do you have any old mates ya miss max?" A voice from behind said, as i turned i saw my fellow guard dave in the middle of a game of poker with jack.
"....what bring this up, you usualy Don't care about this stuff dave?" And he quickly fired back "well guess fucking wot mate no one here at this town don't know anything about you, or your old mates even tho you bring them up all the bloody time" i just stared back about to answer, but that when our captain came over to us urging us over only saying one word, "DRAGON" "oh for the love of-" i just got up grabing my spear and sword and just followed
When all of us got to the front of town, the dragon has landed a bits away from the entrance "...no way its you" i muttered to my self walking forward, the other guards tried to stop me but in the end let me through, and as i walk over to the dragon, scales red as fire all i could say was "ya found me eh? How's you and scarlet doing old buddy?" And they he leaned forward so i could bug his head as he let out a hearty laugh. "Good old buddy, good fellow dragon blood"
But then i notice some one on his, scarlet and a younger girl, scarlet was wearing a fine red dress and the young one wore leather dyed a mix of red purple and blue. As i notice the dragon said "oh right, scarlet is here too along with-" before he finished his sentence he move his head more to the side for both to step off and then said "our daughter!" I paused, "daughter hu? So you two finally continued the bloodline, gonna be honest surprised there is only one" the dragon laughed again " only for now dear friend, i mean how could i with- "DAD, i already know were this joke is going please Don't" "HAHA, ok ok fine, oh right ruby, this is max, the man who saved my life" the girl then had light coming off of them while have a look of under excitement on their face, "THE OLD GOD KILLER!!!"
"Pffff, you called me that dray?" The dragon just simply pointed to ruby and said " hey she made it up during the story, and i thought it fit ya" "were did you ego go dray?" Scarlet then spoke up with a smirk "don't you remember how i beat it out of him when he tired to betray us?" The dragon then lowered their head a bit and said "ya it um... disappeared then" after laughing a bit i then turned my attention to the still glowing ruby "so how old are you?" "Ah, right i'm 15" "15? ... oh god i'm old man" "you sure look young, oh right you dragon blooded right?" "Um... yes, since your still pretty young what do you want to do when you grow older?"
"AN ADVENTURER, like you,dad, and mom" "ah i see.... say i got something for ya" i held my hand over my shoulder for a moment till a sword flew into my hand, and the Sheth for the sword flying onto it, then takeing off a bracelet i handed both over to ruby "here, my old magic sword, the first one i found on my adventures" ruby started glowing brighter "a-a-are you sure? But what if and old enemy comes for you or or or something?" I simply smiled as my eyes and hands chnaged to looke more draconic and smiled "i didn't use my sword to kill an old God after all" and then reverted back to my previous form.
Ruby simply said thanks and shortly after they all had to leave, but they promised to vist again but bfore that dray said one last thing to me " oh also you probably want to know that jess is in the area if you still want to find her" "the druid? Wait why are you-" " i know you still like her and you deserve happiness after all you have done for us all also she asked me tonlet you know, goodbye now" and then he flew off, i just stood there for a moment before walking back to town, my fellow guards standing there is awe, "so, i'm hungry, who wants some bears stew?" Jack just looked over and said "1 sure and 2 WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT"
"And old friends, and the new future" | 2021-11-30T11:56:18 | 2021-11-30T11:34:52 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] You are secretly the richest person in the world. But to avoid suspicion of having so much money, you decide to work a normal office job. One day, your boss fires you. But what he didn't realise... Was how incredibly petty you are, and the lengths you will go to get back at him.
Damn, I came up with this idea while I was waking my dog this morning, wrote it down, then went to school and forgot all about it, I cant believe this post blew up the way it did, and I am very thankful for everyone who commented and especially for giving gold 👍 | Living beyond my means always seemed not only unnecessary to me, but pointless. Sure, I could do whatever I wanted and be whatever I wanted, but I had seen what money could do to people and those around them. I didn't want to be another chump with "yes men" around me telling me how good of a job I was doing, regardless if I actually was.
So when I won the lottery, I kept quiet. Not only did I not tell my friends, but I didn't even tell my family. Instead, I retained a lawyer and financial advisor and just invested. Before I knew it my bank account just grew and grew until I was worth $140 billion dollars.
When it came to my day to day life, I tried to keep i simple and I never saw a reason to stop doing what I loved. I mean hell, I was lucky. How many people can say that do what they love every day when they go into work? And keeping my secret from co-workers was easy. When I went on vacation to Paris, it was seen as completely normal. What they didn't know what I took a private jet there, stayed in a suite at the Four Seasons and ate at Michelin star restaurants each night.
For a moment, my life felt perfect--but all good things must come to and end. That end was Craig. He was the new creative director at my agency and from the moment I met him, I knew I didn't like him. For one, he had no talent. He didn't get to where he was based off of his work or ability to lead a team, he got there because he was bully that knew how to manipulate those around him. I wasn't one of those people and I saw straight through his act.
It didn't take long for me to realize that as soon as Craig joined my team, he had set his sights on me. His goal was to destroy my career and turn everyone against me. He started by criticizing my work and rewriting every single word and sentence I showed him. His ideas were moronic and off strategy, but since he was the boss no one had the guts to call him out on it. When I did call him out, all the others would shrink down in their seats and look away. No one dared tell the boss he had a bad idea and boy was Craig going to make sure I paid for disagreeing with him.
It started with little things. Like that deadline I could have sworn was Wednesday was suddenly Monday. Or files would go missing from the server. With time it grew and grew until suddenly mistakes were being made that required the team to work over the weekend and I was being blamed. It was so obvious, I don't know how I didn't see it coming.
It was a Friday morning when Craig called me into a last minute meeting. When I walked into the conference room, there sat HR, alone at the table with a folder. Craig's face went serious and as I sat down and told me that he was sorry but I "just wasn't the right fit here". HR then explained to me that my time with the agency was terminated and they would ship my belongings to my home address.
I stood up, trying to hold back the tears in my eyes and Craig smiled. He smiled as if to say, "I won" and before I could say a word, HR led me out the door and out the office.
For months I sat at home and dwelled on what happened. I tried to piece together what happened and how it got to the point where they would fire me. As I began to sort through all of the events that had unraveled I began to see the connection: Craig. Every step forward I'd make, he'd ensure I took two steps back. Well, little did Craig know that is screwed with the wrong girl. Not only was he going to pay for what he did, but everyone at the agency was going to pay for following him blindly.
The account I worked on was the largest client the agency had before, it was worth millions of dollars. So naturally, the best way to destroy a tumor is to cut off it's blood supply. So I bought the client, the entire company, under an alias name.
The next step was to hire a chairman and CEO that would act as an instrument to my plan. My team privately met with dozens of candidates and it didn't take long for me to appoint someone to head up the company that ensured me he'd follow my direction without question.
In the meantime, I found another job. In fact, it was a better job with a title and pay increase that I may have not needed, but at least demonstrated they saw my value. Each day I'd come home from work and communicate with my team and CEO, directing them on steps they needed to take to ensure the success of the company. First being--fire all of the advertising agencies they had partnered with.
For one particular ad agency, however, I requested the CEO personally deliver the news to the creative team himself. I told him to handle the process as he saw fit but there was one thing he needed to say upon termination: "I'm sorry, but you're just not the right fit here."
It didn't take long for news to spread about the great loss and changes within the client's organization and within about a year, after losing their largest client, the agency closed.
Eventually, that agency became a distant memory and I was happily promoted at my job, working as a creative director for a place I loved. It was early fall when a resume came across my desk with a familiar name and a huge gap in employment history. He had already been through 2 interviews earlier that week and I was the last point of contact as the hiring manager. I gleefully saw the calendar invite pop onto my computer and that afternoon I walked to the conference room where candidates waited to meet with their potential employers.
I pushed open the door and Craig looked up. His smile quickly disappeared and he went as pale as a ghost as he saw me standing at the door. I had recently gotten married and he had not realized who I was since my last name had changed. I smiled brightly and without a word sat down in front of him. He stuttered as he opened his portfolio book and began to quietly go over his work with me, conveniently skipping over the work from the agency we had worked at together not so long ago.
I quietly listened and as he paused to take a breath. I leaned forward, looking at him directly in the eye and smiled. "You know what, Craig", I said, "I'm sorry, but you're just not the right fit here."
​ | People think they know what real power means. They think that because their parents gave them some high ranking job in a bank or a government office that they can just go around pushing over everybody. That’s where I come in. I like to think of myself as something of a modern age Robin Hood. Only if Robin Hood was a billionaire man in the world and used connections rather than a wooden bow.
You’re probably thinking “who the hell is this dude” or “you probably just inherited your money from your family so why the hell are you crapping on other people”. Well in that case I think a little backstory is in order. I’m the world’s youngest self made billionaire. I wasn’t a poor person beforehand, I had been born into a relatively well off family. Never had to think about food or clothes, but we weren’t exactly rich either. We were what you would call middle class. During college, I met some entrepreneurs. They came from rich families and had god connections. I proposed to them a business idea of an online book store called amazon. However mid way through I decided to take my share of the money and leave the company. I had never appeared in any media coverage so no one really knew me, but Jeff and George were good guys so I let them get some recognition. That was when I was 20. Fast forward ten years and some good investments later, my money has increased by more than ten fold. More importantly though, I now have shares in some of the most powerful companies on the planet.
When I turned 35, I found life to be extremely mundane. You would think a billionaire’s life would be interesting, but none of it is real. You’re surrounded by fake friends, unhealthy habits, and always worrying about your public image. That’s when I decided to move to Scotland. No one knew me there, but I decided to change my name anyways. I wanted to go back to the life I had in my childhood. I liked the simplicity of it all. I rented a small apartment in the city and applied for an entry level marketing job. I decided to leave out all my accomplishments from the resume and leave only my bachelor’s degree. It wasn’t easy explaining what I’ve been doing all those years though. Anyways. I got a job that wasn’t so bad and made some true friends. We went to together to the bar each night and all in all it was a good time until ...
It was a chilly Friday morning, I didn’t have time to make make breakfast so I just drank some coffee and left for work. I had a feeling this wasn’t a good day and the old man who tried to tackle me on the underground wasn’t a good omen either. I reached work and sure enough a note was waiting for me on the desk. I entered my boss’s office.
“You wanted to see me sir?”
“Yeah ... ummm ... sit down mark” his tone wasn’t settling “look, I gotta be honest. You’re terrible. You won’t have a career in this and by this rate I doubt you’re going to have a career any where. If I were you, I would just go work as a waiter or something and try to enjoy the rest of your lives”.
“But sir, I’m the best employee here.” It was true, so far my ideas have been the ones used the most in the final projects. I was a natural at this, after all I did do it before hand and that turned out pretty well.
I put on a pretty good case for myself, but still all I got was “you’re terrible”.
I left that room with only one thing on my mind: that son of a bitch is going down. The owners of the company I’ve been working at were actually friends of mine, so I called them to inquire about my manager. Said I wanted him in my new enterprise and wondered how good he was. They were really surprised when I called about him, but after some nudging they told me he wasn’t bad, but for some reason his team never completed a full year with him. But they gave it to him, he was a man of results, so they never questions his methods. I had a hunch of what was going on, but I had to make sure.
“Did he ever promote anyone?”
“Only once, but the guy wasn’t that good”
That made me certain. My third question really caught them off guard however.
“Do you have any job openings? I had always wanted to rejoin the game, but never had the chance, and I have actually just moved to Scotland as well”
“We’ll make you an opening”
That’s the story of how I had taken over his job as regional manager. Nobody understood what happened, but all they knew was that he had to leave the country and I was promoted, none of which was lies. I also had good connections in parliament. That was my second move. I hired some people to hack his computer, and the guy became a pedophile. Not only that, but conveniently the laws had just witnessed a surprise change that made pedophilia punishable with the same jail time as murder.
And that’s how one life destroying bastard had his life destroyed
| 2019-03-04T09:01:49 | 2019-03-04T08:37:41 | 2,500 | 21 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class. | The look on Natasha's face when I walked into our college algebra 101 class that morning made the whole ordeal of digging myself out of that shallow grave and walking home without any blood worth it. (Have you ever tried to walk without blood? It's super tiring.)
Her expression was a perfect mix of shock, confusion, panic, and forced calm. Eventually she settled on a blank expression that I recognized as someone deliberately paralysing their own face. I'd done that before, mostly to disguise sleeping through math class, so... Appropriate all things considered.
I took my usual seat next to her and said "good morning!" In my most natural cheerful voice.
Her reply was stiff and quiet, which wasn't really surprising to be fair. Her face was still stiff, and she had definitely killed me last night. I'd probably be confused too in her shoes.
It took almost half of the lecture for her to finally ask the question that had to be burning her worse than the sun usually did. (Night school, yay!)
"How?" She whispered softly.
"You should ask the professor if you don't understand the lecture Tash" I said blithely "you know I don't do well with math.
She actually had the composure to look annoyed at me.
"You know what I mean." She almost growled. "I-" she paused and glanced around at the other nearby students in a motion so quick most people wouldn't be able to see it.
"I drank your blood and feasted on your soul." She sounded almost pleading now "I killed you, how are you here."
I grinned at her, bold. I like it. Though the whole murdering me thing on our first date kinda put a damper on the relationship to be honest.
"I'm sure your sire gave you a speech that went something like 'we were what the apes feared while they huddled around their fires.' right?"
She nodded, looking even more confused. "Almost word for word." She said softly.
"Volodymir then." I replied. "That ass never did properly introduce his spawn to the wider world."
She looked taken aback at that, and even fearful. Great.
"He tell you some nonsense about him knowing if you spoke his name to another then?" I asked, turning my tone gentle.
She nodded, still looking wary.
"Ass." I repeated. "Volodymir has no magick beyond the abilities granted him by the blood." I explained quietly, "And even if he did, he's been imprisoned for nearly fifty years for, well... Not taking proper care of his spawn."
Natasha's expression had changed to open confusion.
"Tasha," I asked, again in a gentle tone. "All this time after you learned vampires are real and you never wondered if there was anything else hidden out there?"
"No. I... I just never thought about it. I just... He..." She was almost pleading again.
I patted her hand where it sat on the armrest between us.
"It's ok Tasha." I said in my best comforting tone, "stuff like this is why that dickhead isn't gonna see the light of the moon for a very long time."
She nodded, still looking confused.
"What are you?" She asked after a pause. "You don't smell like a vampire, and you...tasted... Just like a mortal"
A faint flush actually touched her pale cheeks as she spoke.
"I was what the apes feared as they-"
I cut off as she swatted my arm.
I grinned. "Tell you what," I said "I'll explain everything to you over dinner after the lecture, as long as you promise not to kill me again."
"Deal." | "Maria, Maria please stop. Please stop." Those were the words that came to my head the moment I woke up. All started with a soft kiss then all ended with a hard bite down my neck. She then kissed me again with blood all over her mouth.
"Oh god, who could have thought that death tasted so sweet".
She didn't even bother the completely bury me. Cruel as the time she rejected me last year. I brushed off the dirt from my body and crawled up.
It was 9 in the morning and Class already started. So I went to the dorms to change clothes so I would look normal and went to Class.
When I opened the door the teacher started shouting towards me. "Im sorry teach but I had a late bloody night".When I was finally allowed to speak I then went to my seat.
My seat was next to her, so when I went there I waves at her. She was there all shock. Her eyes where red, her skin went pale and she was shaking in her seat. She was biting her right hand nails like a maniac and her legs couldnt stop moving.
Finally Class was over. She couldnt handle me while in the whole time of the lecture I didn't even left my eyes off of her. She couldnt return the eye contact and that made her even more nervous.
While I was walking through The campus, she grabbed me by the neck and bought me in her room.
"How the fuck are you alive?" she couldnt stop trembling and she was ready to cry.
"Oh I think you you know how? Dont you? You killed me Maria?" the questions where all that mattered to me now.
"Yes I killed you and no internet dont know wtf is going on right here."trembling she said, while red tears started falling from her eyes.
" My sweet Maria, dont cry im not here to kill you. No, no, no please dont cry. You actually gave me a second chance. "I said while I was holding her hands.
She raised her head to see me, and now her tears were pure red blood." What do you mean? "
" My favorite. My Maria, you gave me time. " | 2022-12-29T18:54:00 | 2022-12-29T17:14:15 | 196 | 32 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | I logged onto the website, after 3 failed attempts at my password.
It took me the better part of an hour scrolling through the pages and pages of statistics, most pretty decent, some exceptional (top 100,000 at minesweeper felt pretty good).
Finally I noticed the little menu bar at the top and found the "Outliers" search. So I clicked and waited. A few seconds later, my most unusual statistics popped up and there it was, just above my minesweeper score:
>No. 7,536,783,248 at Golf out of a global database population of 7,536,783 248.
I blinked. I'd never played golf, how.. how did it even know? How could anyone be the "worst at golf"? It didn't make sense.
I stepped out of my room where my sister stood, a shit-eating grin on her face as she handed me a long metal golf club.
"Well? Go on, I want to see what the WoRlD's AwFuLlEsT gOlFeR looks like."
I took the club from her, then went to swing it threateningly, only to mash myself in the back of the head in a profoundly uncoordinated maneuver that left me unconscious for the next 15 minutes.
---
Over the following few days of mild teasing from friends and family (and several failed attempts at holding a golf club) it became apparent that I had a preternatural ability to cause extreme misfortune to myself in any activity that even bore a passing resemblance to golf.
The first few times I held a club resulted in bodily harm or property damage, my first contact with a golf ball lead to a trip to the ICU and surgical removal. I visited a golf course later in the week and had an inexplicable bout of syncope then had my arm run over by an unmanned, runaway, golf cart.
In the end, I decided it best for my own continued survival to avoid golf whenever physically possible.
My sister, of course, gave me no end of teasing about it and would occaisionally leave various golf related paraphernalia in my path just to film (and, invariably upload to youtube) the ensuing swathe of destruction.
That was... until her 18th birthday when her own results revealed her to be the world's worst Yoga Instructor.
Now I have a collection of yoga mats and a spotify playlist called "Dynamic Tracks to Relax and Stretch" and it's time for some petty revenge. | From thousands of absolutely useless categories I reached rank #1 in only one of them. It was something, but some people still had their place on several lists. They were raised to lead. I was not. I found myself as a person who did the longest yawn of all time. I felt something weird. There was so many people trained to be a champion and I reached their goal accidentally.
Amazing feeling to meet anybody who was even close to touch TOP 3 in anything, in this moment I realized. Those people, all of them, where looking at me not because I’ve done something special. They just could met somebody, who succeed in their pathetic rankings.
For me it’s not life I want to live. It doesn’t really matter. I mean those rankings. Everything which has any value is on my ranch with my family, where I am not special because of my place in a table, but because of person I am.
(I’m sorry for all mistakes. English is my second language I still improve, but I couldn’t resist to write it because theme is absolutely wonderful.) | 2019-05-04T10:43:43 | 2019-05-04T10:20:17 | 1,560 | 108 |
[WP] You are possessed by a powerful demon. You fear the worst when you notice that you are still in control of your body. And he's afraid because you can control his powers. | The demon was the first to speak, "Hey."
Of course, I couldn't see it. It was just a voice inside my head. So I made the only logical response, "Hi?"
"Not to butt in on you like this, but your soul and body are mine now. Nothing personal, just need a vessel to move about your plain of existence and such. Believe me, you weren't my first choice to pick up. I mean, no offense, but you're out of shape, out of touch and out of my league anyway. I chose you because the long list of powerful people I was GOING to choose are already possessed."
"R-really? Like who?"
"Oh, CEO's, rich people, congressmen, yada yada yada. People like that. Anyway, nice talking to your conscious self for the time I did. I'm just going to block that out for the rest of your existence. Now march towards the bank and get out some money out, because we're going to set off some fireworks in the townhall, let's go.
"..."
"Buddy, I said, let's GO. This shouldn't be a question and you shouldn't be able to refuse. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm sitting at my desk. You can't control me?"
"NO. Something is broken and I should be driving YOU around like a VW Beetle. I can fix this though, hang on."
"I'm going to get some food."
"Whoa, hey, no. Look, I'M in control here, get it? Temporarily, you have free range or whatever, but I call the shots here."
"Right, I don't see you doing anything yet."
"Well, yeah. It's because something is wrong, or broken. I probably did something wrong with the summons, but that could take forever to decipher what I did wrong. It's not like I can just go through an entire Sumerian Tome and nitpick every detail to see what's wrong. Listen to me: Don't. Do. ANYTHING."
"... I'm getting some food."
"Hey, Ass-hat. You may or may not realize what is exactly going on here, but this should NOT be happening. As in, either you have broken something or I have broken something."
"How could I break something? Maybe instead of you controlling me, I control you?"
"..."
"That's what happened, isn't it?"
"Now let's not jump to conclusions. Like I said, we don't know exactly what is happening. For all I know there's a hiccup in the ritual or maybe a glitch or..."
"What can I do with demon powers? Could I ROB a bank instead of taking money out of my account."
"WHOA. Listen here, Jack, do you have any idea what a top tier class, demonized, spawn of Hell like me can do? No? I'll tell ya; I can fly to your moon and back in a day's worth of time, I have the jowls of a crocodile that can crush iron beams into spaghetti, my hands can burn at temperatures fiercer than the sun! Do you know who I am!?!?"
"Nope, but that sounds like a lot of fun. How do I do it?"
"What? No, HELL no. I am not teaching you any of that. What do you take me for, some kind of ass-hat?"
"No, I didn't say that. I'm just saying it could be fun."
"Look, buddy. I invaded your body so that I could start my century long journey to take over the world, get it? I've been planning this out for ages and I'm not about to let some punk go and screw it all up for me."
"My hands can get really hot, right?"
"Yeah, but don't - FUCKING HELL. I didn't say to melt the damn door, did I? Well so much for that shit. How are you gonna fix that?"
"I can buy a new one.'"
"Yeah? With what? Money that you're gonna ROB from the bank?"
"Yup. I'll let you know when I'm done taking over the world."
"But - "
"Catch you later, dude." | "BOW DOWN TO ME MORTAL!" the demon ordered. *Well, he's definitely loud*, I thought.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Maybe I should start a bit earlier. You see, my daughter's into the occult. No, not the hippie-dippie "witchcraft" you see nowadays. Oh no, I mean full-blown devil worship and animal sacrifice. And no, she's not some depressed goth type who only likes post-punk and dresses like it's a fucking funeral. She would seem normal, not withstanding the pentagram necklace, or the Black Phillip heads hanging in her room, or the attempts at animal sacrifice. Normal. Totally fucking normal.
Well, one night, she decided she needed an upgrade. How much of an upgrade? How about 12 virgins sacrificing themselves to *fucking Satan* upgrade? I came in from work to hear the crescendo of their ritual. Being me, I attempted to stop the mass slaughter of teenage girls, so I "disturbed the sanctum of the ritual" by breaking the ethereal wall, so to speak. When I did that, there a large crack of thunder and the blood of teenage girls on my floor. Soon after, I felt strange. My body began to feel hot, very hot. I soon stripped down at the pure heat my body was generating. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO, DAD?!" she screamed. "I DON'T KNOW, TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM **SACRIFICING CHILDREN IN OUR HOUSE**?"
"HOW DARE YOU RIDICULE A WORSHIPPER?" a menacing voice bellowed. I stared around, looking for where the response came from, "Who the fuck was that?" She could only stare in a mixture of awe and nervousness. "I am Hothzar the Annihilartor, Mortal!" he responded aggressively.
"Well, what the fuck are you doing here?" I asked.
"How dare you curse at me, human! I am of the highest breed, you filth!" My body began to heat up with his impotent rage. "Ummm, yeah, Dad..." before she could respond, I felt myself uncontrollably seizing. I fell to the ground and began to foam at the mouth, "Give me your control, you swine!" Something snapped. The demon could tell. The seizing stopped, and I was able to get up fairly easily. "WHAT THE FUCK, SAM?!" I screamed, as I felt my body uncontrollably heat. As she screamed and fell to the floor, you realized what had happened and began to calm down. "How DARE YOU DISOBEY ME, HUMAN!" the demon became flustered.
"Put a fucking sock in it," I retorted. I looked at Sam, both cowering and in shock of my sheer power. "So, now what?" | 2017-10-22T19:34:26 | 2017-10-22T16:30:32 | 43 | 11 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | A blinding light swept away the south camp. Charigos ran out of his resting pod, watching in terrified awe at the magnificent mushroom shaped fire ball rising to the sky. Everyone had stopped doing what they were doing and now stood, as if they were frozen in time.
A general ran out of his pod "I thought we had won! Their battalion was defeated two sols ago!" he yelled, the panic made his voice tremble. Suddently the sky started to roar, as it became littered with black dots.
There was a giant explosion, and one of the heavy class cruisers colapsed, falling miles to the ground. "it seems that their initial defense force wasnt all they had!" Charigos yelled from across the camp. Five more fireballs blinded the men. Sending intense shockwaves that leveled the camp.
The general crawled out of the smouldering ruins, clearly in shock. "fire the siesmic charges!". Five cannons on an orbital battleship started to power up. KABOOM! Five blue bolts were catapulted towards the surface. The bolts collided with the earth, resulting in a large earthquake. Everything went silent.
The general got up on all four legs, as he starred into the large smoke cloud. "i think we got the last rebe..." a sentence he would never finish, as he was vapourized by The emense heat from the thermonuclear detonation.
From orbit Hartell watching in fear as bright white glimses spread around the globe, and more and more biomonitors went black. He looked over at a large screen, segmented into thousands of videocall pads. Almost half of them were black.
"What is The status on the earthlings!" charter arose among the generals. "well, it seems like we havent Even touched the majority of their military. The amount of weaponary they have is ungodl..." his screen went black. A loud bange echoed through the vacuum of space. Hartell looks up, into his panoramic window. Three large cruisers had been turned into ash, only fireballs and rubble remaining.
"what kind of weapon is that!!" Hartell yelled. A scientist ran up The Them, it looks like fision, we've researched it before, but have never been able to find enough fuel to make Even a test bomb, their planet must have unnatural amounts fissial meterial". Hartell grapped his collar. "How can they have more avanced weapons that us, WHILE STILL NOT EVEN BEING ABLE TO COMMUNICATE INSTANTLY!" The scientist shivered. "I dont know".
Another cruiser went down, then another. Hartell looked back as his screen, less than ten remained. His army, once the most feared in the Galaxy had been redused to ash, by such a primitive race. A tear flowed down his cheek. "send a message to all systems and federations in the Galaxy, to never wage against earth". He turned around, to look through the window again. "to never Even come near the planet, and prepare for their inevitable hyperspace Discovery..." | we thought of them as saviors when they first came they expected immediate surrender on our part. They thought after slaughtering millions of lives we would surrender. they were wrong. We were faced with what could have been our destruction our annihilation but we would not so easily bend into their fold. Nay we rose against our attackers when they struck our cities we reverse engineered their technology and took the fight to the heavens where they came from. We used our own ships our own weapons of mass destruction and we slaughtered them like the dogs they were. They attempted to resist our retribution of course, They fought tooth and nail against us but they underestimated our ferocity as well as unleashing futuristic technology against them we used old tactics boarding ships and engaging in close quarters combat. We fought for years and we chased them down across the galaxy to their homeworld where we brought retribution to their doorstep we invaded their cities burned their capitals glassed their farms. We sent ground troops down to crush any chance they had at resisting our attacks. They came in the thousands but we came in the millions. Millions upon millions of angry and blood thirsty troops ready to revenge their losses back on earth when their cities were destroyed and we were forced to hide underground, Little did these invaders know of our resolve little did they know of our hate. Like striking a hornets nest we came at them as one and we crushed their fleets as one and we slaughtered their troops as one and we burned and glassed their planets and outposts as one. Because of these invaders we became one and we became the most fearsome civilization in the galaxy. | 2019-12-17T14:02:56 | 2019-12-17T11:20:18 | 84 | 21 |
[WP]You are an omnipotent god. Out of boredom you decided to live an ordinary human life vowing not to use your power. 15 years has pass and you have a 9 to 5 working for a major tech company. Your boss has been tormenting you for years and you have reach your limit | After living for eternity, you would have thought that I could hack a nine to five job for a mere ten years. Add on the fact I'm pretty much the most powerful thing in existence, you would definitely think I could hack a nine to five job for a a decade.
You would be completely right.
Or well, you would have been completely right three years ago. Now? Not so much.
The reason, you ask?
My boss.
Thousands of years of watching humans struggle through life and answering to their superiors had granted me a lot of empathy for them, especially when they asked impossible things. I mean, I thought it had. Turns out what I was feeling was only sympathy. But now I understand. Now I feel the real effort it takes to appear bright, friendly and on the ball whilst a slimy, untrustworthy arrogant, bratty human adult saunters around as if he owns the place and he came up with all the ideas.
I own this entire universe, mate, get off your high horse.
I'm all powerful! I'm all freaking powerful! he does realise all these ideas are mine right? It was my idea to ditch the stylus on touch screen phones because fingers worked just as well! Heck, it was my idea for touch screens anyway! But I'm stuck answering the phone for complete imbeciles that can't even sign into their accounts.
'Hey, listen up folks.' His nasal voice sent waves of anger down my spine, annoyance rushing through my body as his words hit my ears. Something in my hand cracked. I looked down, hoping it wasn't my computer mouse.
It was.
Sighing, I spun slightly on my chair and pushed the wireless mouse in the bin, before whisking open my desk drawer. It was completely full of identical white replacement wireless computer mice. I picked one up without looking and began to sync it to my computer.
'That means you too, Johnson.'
I looked up, trying to keep my expression neutral.
'If you keep it up with that attitude you'll be in for another disciplinary; we've been having a lot of complains about you from our customers. You're walking on a razor thin tightrope, Johnson. Don't think you're off the hook just because you've been here for a few years.'
Obviously my expression still conveyed my absolute loathing. A few years? It's been at least ten. Smug bastard.
'As you know, the next model is still in the planning stages, and as I'm one of the few members on the team I'll be quite busy for the next few months. I don't want any interruptions or anything; nothing is more important than this right now. Nothing you have to say or ask of me is more important than this. My ideas for previous models have been invaluable; I will not be breaking my track record. That is all.'
He puffed his chest up, looking over his employees as if he was a fantastic boss that had just given a fantastic speech as opposed to giving a shitty excuse for cutting his work load in half.
He left. I continued syncing my new mouse up, wondering what I would say to HR for breaking yet another one. They were already aware of my anger management issues. The anger was directed at the waste of space that I had the pleasure to call my boss. He hadn't come up with any of the ideas; he had casually asked me for advice in the staff room and stole my ideas.
I'm not an idiot. I'm omnipotent, I'm all powerful, of course my ideas are the best. No one ever seemed to question what I said, I seemed to have an aura around me that compelled complete trust.
That's when it hit me. What could be the worst thing for the next model to have? What would he trust me with, take to a meeting, push through and ruin his reputation with?
I opened my work emails and started to type out a message for him, gripping my new mouse this time with anticipation rather than anger.
'I think, for the next IPhone, perhaps if we had no aux input....'
*Edit: fixed a bunch of typos, and thank you to everyone for the amazing feedback* | James and Robert sat the bar. They were taking shots and complaining about their boss Dylan. Regular Friday night stuff.
"That's it. Fuck this guy. I'm gonna kill his wife."
"Jim you can't say shit like that man."
"Wouldn't be first time I fucked over someone to prove a point."
"What?"
"Nevermind man don't worry about it." James slammed another shot of Tequila. "That asshole has had it out for me for years dude. 15 years I've been with this fucking company and he has been RELENTLESS! I don't get what is fucking problem his!"
"Who knows dude, maybe one of the other workers we bring out told him you say shit like you're gonna kill his wife!" Robert laughed as he said it.
"Bobby, I'm tired man. For 15 years you've been a great friend, and I really appreciate that. I just want you know, that no matter what happens, I've got your back alright." James stood up, dropped a fifty on the bar, and started to walk away.
Robert grabbed him by the arm. "What the fuck man? Don't say shit like that and just walk away. You've got me worried now. Whatever is going on I can help. Talk to me!"
James rolled his eyes, "Great. You bargain at the inevitable too? Of course, you are human after all."
"What? I'm driving you home you are way too fucking drunk for me to leave you alone."
"Get off me man! I'm gonna go kill Sheryl and you can't stop me."
"Sheryl didn't DO anything. You're seriously starting to freak me the hell out." Robert was doing his best to subdue James and keep him sitting, but he wasn't having it. Drunk James was hell bent on killing Dylan's wife.
"Job's wife didn't do shit either and I still killed her. All because Luke said 'You won't, no balls!' Matter of fact, fuck this guy! I'm gonna level his whole damn block!"
Robert swore he was just pushing James back down into his seat. How did he get home. How did get naked and in bed? He checked the time: 8 o' clock in the morning on Sunday. "Oh fuck me, did I drive home drunk again?"
Robert turned on the TV. The news headline read "Tornado ravages Cincinnati block; every resident presumed dead." That was definitely Dylan's neighborhood. Robert couldn't believe it, he checked every news source he could find on both the TV and internet. The tornado formed without a single warning sign, touched down, wrecked the whole block and ONLY that block, then disappeared..
Robert's face twist up in confusion as he though back to last night. He grabbed his phone and called James.
James answered, "Hello?"
"What the fuck...?"
| 2017-02-19T07:52:51 | 2017-02-19T07:20:19 | 5,696 | 203 |
[WP] In a dystopian future, every crime in punishable by execution. You are the most wanted criminal in the word, for stealing a Kit-Kat from a corner store. | I can imagine a cop getting a call like:
**Pzzsht** (or whatever the hell a cackling microphone sounds like) "*We have a [insert random code for theft], I repeat [insert random code for theft]. Target is female, 14, blonde, average height, and last seen wearing a green hoodie. She's a runner. Execute on sight."*
And the cop responding:
"On it. This is Officer [Random Name]. I'm currently heading in target's direction. Just for confirmation. what item did the target steal again?"
And hearing back:
*"A Kit-Kat. I repeat, a Kit-Kat."*
I remember the Officer, too. After ducking through several back alleys and emerging into the street for the first time, I clearly remember thinking:
[Crap. How did they find me so fast?]
Out of some primitive instinct (or maybe female's intuition?) I ran towards the cop car as it came up the street, despite hearing in the past few weeks of cops just running over criminals with their cars.
In anticipation of this, I was prepared to jump to either side at the last moment. But oddly enough, the cop car screeched to a halt and - in my surprise - I wound up scampering up the hood, over the windshield, across the roof, down the back windshield, over the trunk, and across the street into another alley.
The only reaction I heard from the cop was him rolling down the window to weakly yell out:
"Freeze..."
I can imagine him getting back on the microphone with mock disappointment:
"Target eluded me."
And that was the last I heard about it for awhile. 7 years to be exact. They ran my picture on a local channel a few times, but I'm pretty sure the politicians and the people were more worried about the murderers, rapists, and *real* thieves than some girl who stole a *Kit-Kat*.
By the time they renewed their interest in me again, and made me the most wanted criminal in the world, I was a bright-eyed 21 year old woman who was optimistic about the future and confident in her abilities to change it for the better.
And as I took the stage to recieve my law diploma, the government came for me. For all of us. Ironically, studying law was against the law and they wanted to make an example out of us. I don't even think they knew I was the same girl who had stole the Kit-Kat years ago.
They came in guns blazing. They shot everyone. Everyone. People on stage and in the crowd. Young and old, man, woman, and child.
I was the only survivor.
What was supposed to be one of my proudest days suddenly became a nightmare I would relieve over and over, waking up in cold sweats behind dumpsters and under cars as I stayed on the run. A fugitive. The top of the most wanted list.
Most Wanted. As the months passed by, it became a title I cherished. It pleased me to imagine their frustration as I avoided capture, time and time again.
That graduation massacre had become my motivation to live on. To persist when I wanted to quit. Not just for me, but for all the lives lost that day. I blamed myself. I took responsibilty for their deaths. If it wasn't for me, my parents wouldn't have died. My neighbor Ms. Jenkins who had only come that day to support me wouldn't have died. The boys who had sacrificied themselves by jumping in front of the girls so that they got hit first...
No. If the government wanted me, they would have to give me the lives of all those people back. Only, and only then could they have me. But until then, I would stay...
**The Most Wanted.**
P.S. Thanks for the prompt, OP! Literally stayed in one spot and wrote this all down in one shot. I had so many ideas spinning in my head that if I wasn't in a rush, this would have been so much longer, haha! | I always thought that they would try to execute me for something. I just didn’t think that it would be a candy bar.
I grew up 150 years after the Iron Constitution, the set of laws that went into effect after World War III to ensure that there would be no World War IV. Everyone alive was required to install a tracking chip in their arm and wear at least one video recording contact lens.
All crimes were punishable by death. All crimes, from jaywalking to murder, had the same punishment. Criminality wasn’t seen as a choice, wasn’t seen as an avenue for desperate people just as much as an avenue for psychopaths.
Criminality was a personality trait. And they were going to root it out.
This was obviously a draconian system when there were 500 survivors of the war, but at least then it was an understandably harsh overreaction to the near-extinction of the human race. Nowadays, it was mostly just an excuse to execute poor and starving people.
I was one of those people, an orphan with no job prospects and no hope. I had eaten nothing but ramen for weeks, and wanted something else.
I was desperate.
I knew that if my chip and contacts were in, they would find me right away. I dug the chip out of my arm after 10 minutes with a pair of tweezers, and tossed it and my contact lenses into the trash on my way into the corner store.
KitKats had always been my guilty pleasure, on the extremely rare occasions when I was allowed a guilty pleasure, or any other kind of pleasure really. I snuck one into my jacket when nobody was looking, and slipped out of the door undetected.
Here’s the problem with relying on contact lens cameras and tracking chips for all of your security. As soon as someone takes them out? You’re blind.
They would know what I looked like by observing other people’s cameras, so my next trip was to a wig store. I grabbed a long blond wig and a pair of scissors to cut off my beard, and slipped back into the night.
I haven’t eaten this well in all of my life. Now, all I need to do is not be an idiot when I steal my grub from the nearby shopping mall. The other problem with relying on contact cameras and tracking chips is that nobody ever calls the police because they expect them to come automatically when something goes wrong. Even with a picture of me on every wanted poster in the city, I knew that they would never find me.
I was invisible. And happier than I had ever been before.
I was free. | 2019-05-01T16:05:51 | 2019-05-01T15:24:51 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not. | Fred Phelps was getting tired of waiting. He had been suspended in space for what felt like a couple of years before he saw a light approaching. He knew this was the moment he'd been waiting for, but as the light drew near, Fred couldn't help thinking that God looked...different...than he'd expected. Instead of a bearded old man, God was sort of, well, a mass of noodles.
"Ha ha -- been waiting long?" the Apparition giggled. "I like to make people think they went to Hell."
Fred began, "Lord, it is me, your good and faithful serva--"
"Whoa, whoa!" the Monster cut him off. "First off, I'm not who you think, and second, don't call yourself MY servant! You're my hero!"
Fred couldn't help feeling a little flattered. "Well, I was among the few faithful."
"Faithful?! You were the best there ever was, man!"
Fred acted embarrassed, though if he was perfectly honest, he would have admitted that he was expecting a little VIP treatment in the afterlife.
"But let's clear up this little misunderstanding first," said the Monster. "I'm not your 'God' or whoever. I am What I am."
Fred felt his throat tighten a little as he considered the possibilities. "And...what are you?" he asked after a pause.
"Ha -- what do I look like?" The Monster spread its tentacles so Fred could get a better view.
"um...a floating...spaghetti monster?"
"Well, 'Flying' if you want to get technical. And make sure you capitalize the m in Monster."
Fred gulped. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Duuude! I'm so glad you're here! You were the ultimate religious troll! You took organized religion and made it the biggest farce! What am I going to do with you? I want to learn from you! You're older than me, and you've done a shit ton more heinous things than I ever even imagined! Teach me your ways, old man!"
Fred was nervous, but if he was perfectly honest with himself, he would have admitted that he still felt flattered. A God was looking to him for answers. Wasn't that all Fred really wanted?
"C'mon, Mr. Phelps" said the Monster as he wrapped Fred in his starchy arms, "put this strainer on your head, and let's go log on to 9gag!"
| For a large chunk of my life I expected nothing to happen after... well after *I* ended. I expected complete cession of consciousness, a total end to my cognitive functions... a lack of everything including the self-awareness that would have made the Void unbearable.
What I got was a man behind a desk with a file that had my name paper-clipped onto it.
"So..." I said, "can I check to see if I've gotten this straight?"
"Yes," the man behind the desk said, "It'd be rather... embarrassing for me if you don't."
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath, "Every Religion's afterlives are simultaneously true."
The man nodded.
"The Afterlife which has jurisdiction over you is judged by the tenets that you live your life by," I said, "and not geography, birth, or even your own belief."
The man nodded again.
"In that case..." I said, "Why am I sitting in the Celestial Bureaucracy?"
The man smiled slightly, and then looked down into my folder, "You fit our hiring requirements." | 2016-03-07T19:44:40 | 2016-03-07T18:54:40 | 50 | 37 |
[WP] You have died and gone to Hell. Strangely it isn't as bad as you thought, maybe it is even nice. Turns out the Devil is super lazy and doesn't actually torture the damned. But you, being the compulsive organizer you are, have decide to change that. | "She's causing issues again, sir."
A great, red hand rose to rub the bridge of his nose. He'd nodded off again, and he did *not* like to be disturbed while resting. His eyes blinked several times, clearing his blurred vision.
"...Excuse me?", Lucifer drawled, more a yawn than a question.
"The new girl, this...", the gaunt man began pouring over a small notebook.
"*Judith*?", the fallen angel inquired.
"Yes, m'lord. She has been causing quite a ruckus in Halls of Agony again," Mephistopheles continued. His skeletal face still buried in notes, "She's claiming that our traditional torture techniques are...", he looked up briefly with a look of concern. "...*antiquated*."
The demon lord's brow furrowed.
"And what, pray tell, *does* she recommend", Lucifer replied with obvious contempt.
"Uh, yes m'lord, she, uh...", he began stuttering, obvious fear of his master's temper. Lucifer sighed once again, and in a deep, booming voice commanded, "*Spit it out*."
"Sh-she suggested w-we switch to mustard."
Lucifer's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'm sorry, *mustard*?"
Mephistopheles quickly turned to his notes again, unsure if he'd misspoke. "Y-yes, m'lord. A chamber of mustard, if I'm not mistaken?"
*Ah*, Lucifer thought to himself. "I think you mean a *mustard gas chamber*," he quietly chuckled. "What did you say her name was again?"
The gaunt man once again turned to his notes. "Judith Steinberg, m'lord."
*A jew*. Things were starting to come into focus now. "What year was she born in? In the mortal realm, I mean," inquired the fallen angel.
"1911, m'lord," the skeletal secretary responded, confused. "If I may ask, of what importance...?"
The great, winged demon began to rise from he chair, stretching his arms and back from their slumber. "Do you happen to remember a soul that came into my possession recently, an *Adolf Hitler*?", inquired the prince of darkness.
Mephistopheles scratched his head. "The Austrian?" Lucifer nodded. "Vaguely, m'lord... Didn't you shatter his soul, wiping it from existence?"
The monstrous demon nodded, "I did. He was of little use. He whined from the moment he arrived, his will broke almost immediately with I threw him to the goat-men to be raped. Torture, as you know, is only fun when they put up a fight". Mephistopheles nodded in agreement.
"Well, the runt apparently did a lot of damage in the mortal realm before he arrived. And yet...", Lucifer scratched his chin in contemplation. "I've never received the soul of anyone in one of his internment camps before.".
He thought for a moment, then turned back to his skeletal servant. "Tell me more about this *Judith Steinberg*."
Finally, it seemed Mephistopheles had his notes properly organized. "It says after she left Germany, she traveled to the mortal realm of America. At some point, she founded a printing press, and at some point thereafter, had some kind of spat with the Catholic Pope."
*Understandable enough*, Lucifer thought to himself. *But that wouldn't land her in Hell*. What was he missing?
"Did she commit any crimes? An act of revenge, perhaps? Against an undeserving German? Mayhap she took her life in despair, or wrote an article endorsing Donald Trump?", Lucifer asked, genuinely curious.
Mephistopheles scrambled furiously through his notes. "No, m'lord. At least, I have no record of such an event."
"Well, surely she was sent here for *some* reason."
The thin man turned to the most recent page in his notebook. "It says here that she had an altercation with the same Catholic Pope just recently".
"On her deathbed?"
"No, m'lord. Just outside the pearled gates."
Lucifer's face expressed pure disbelief. "You mean, she was destined for the *holy* realm?" Mephistopheles nodded. Anger started to boil just beneath the surface, and flames ignited from Lucifer's eyes.
"And *why*, may I ask, is this *Judith* in ***MY REALM***?!?", he roared.
The gaunt bookkeeper cowered in fear, quickly pointing to his notes.
"Sh-sh-she-sh-sh...", he began stammering profusely.
"***ANSWER ME***!!!", the great demon bellowed.
"Sh-she told the Pope to go fuck himself!"
The anger dissipated almost immediately. Lucifer paused, "...What?"
Mephistopheles shot over to the papers he'd dropped in fear. "I-it says here, m'lord, that the mortal Catholic Pope was among the first to welcome the mortal, Judith, to the heavenly realm. It then says the Pope told her that all her peoples' suffering had been for a reason."
The bookkeeper turned back to Lucifer, stupefied. "It says that's when she told him to go fuck himself, and that she stormed away, saying she refused to live in the same realm as him."
Lucifer was silent, stunned by the turn of events. *She* ***chose*** *to come to Hell*? Slowly, a grin crept over his face.
"And... you say she has been suggesting 'more efficient' means of running my realm," he said, more a statement than a question.
"Tell me, young Mephistopheles... what other *ideas* does this *Judith Steinberg* have?" | "Excuse...me? Uh, hello?"
I frowned. This may be a place of eternal torment and sorrow, but that's no excuse for skipping over fundamentals. As soon as someone comes in to your establishment, you need to make the mood of the place clear to them.
I walk through what appears to be a vast, dimly-lit warehouse until I notice sounds other than my echoing footfalls. Around a set of shelves near the back, I find him, lying on a sweat-stained mattress, Cheeto-dust encrusting his mouth.
"Yes, hello, Your Maleficience, my name is Stuart, Stuart Pennyloaf, and I believe I am to be one of your denizens here. I didn't notice any kind of greeting team, and there's no prominently displayed list or guide, so as far as figuring out where I -- are you watching HGTV?"
I glanced sideways at the television The Dark Prince was staring at. He was watching *Million-Dollar Properties*.
"'m a producer," he mumbled.
That...explained a lot, actually. I watched as one of the featured participants complained that the roof-top infinity pool got too much sunlight in the afternoon and then turned back to the Devil.
"So..."
It was not lost on me that his gaze had not shifted from the TV in all this time.
"If you could just gesture me to the...Tunnel of Torments, or the Swamp of Sorrow, or whatever, I'll be off."
He gestured vaguely to a door at the back of the room, and I nodded.
"*Thank* you so *much* for your help."
He froze, and I braced myself to witness the wrath of the Ruler of Hell. But all he said was, "You put an offer on *that*? The new freeway's being built there in 6 months!"
Shaking my head, I headed out through the back door.
***
The first area I came to was a bunch of people sitting on gravel, their bodies chained to tall polls. Once of them noticed me, and soon a series of wan, despairing faces were gazing in my direction.
"This..." I breathed. "This...is awful!"
As one might imagine, hope is a scarce commodity in Hell, but I saw its candle begin to flicker behind the eyes of the condemned as they watched me.
Off to one side was a rotund demon, a good head taller than I am, who appeared to be asleep.
"He's been like that for ages," one of the prisoners hissed. "Please...free us!"
I blinked. *Free* them? This was worse than when we started buying all those ergonomic desk components but didn't put anyone in charge of deploying them, so they just sat in a utility closet for a year. I just...I guess you don't expect Hell to be a model of efficiency but this, this was...
I strode over to the sleeping guard and poked him *rather* firmly in the back. A few more pokes and he was awake. "Munh...?" he growled.
I glanced back at the onlookers, who were watching in horror. One shook his head slowly, and I could clearly see him mouth the word "No..." over and over.
"Hey, *asshole*." I said. There was a collective intake of breath from the damned nearby. "What the *fuck* is going on here?"
The demon blinked at me wearily. His eyelids began to droop.
"No, *no*, don't fall asleep! I want you to stand up, and I want you to *do your fucking job.* You're gonna go pick her up, that's right, and use her to start beating him."
Slowly he complied. A pair of wails punctuated with wet, slapping sounds began to fill the area.
"Good start. Moving forward, I'd like you to start starving them, and have food be available inside the bodies of others. So, if they want to eat, they're going to have to dig it out of their companions - or themselves, I suppose. Now, can you tell me who is in charge of the next section?"
***
Back in the warehouse, The Devil watched the action unfold on his TV, grinning. *That human Sartre was right*, he thought, chuckling quietly to himself. Then he changed the channel so he could watch *Storage Wars*.
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds | 2018-12-18T08:14:34 | 2018-12-18T06:49:06 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] It’s discovered that the mayor of a town is, in fact, two 8 year olds in a trench coat. | [BREAKING NEWS]
After a several week long investigation into the allegations made against Redwood Valley’s own mayor Vincent Adultman, new facts have just been uncovered by this newspaper’s investigative reporting team. The mayor, is not who this town thinks he is. Information has just been released that the mayor is actually two 8 year olds sitting on one another’s shoulders and wearing a trench coat.
On August 4th 2018 the mayor’s American citizenship was called into question due to his very deep, and almost fake sounding accent. Before long a petition was started by citizens of Redwood Valley for the mayor to release his birth certificate to which the mayor’s crotch released a statement saying
“Those guys are so nosy! It’s none of their business. Leave us- I mean me alone.”
This sparked suspicion in the eyes of this newspaper, and an in depth investigation was soon launched. It wasn’t until August 27th 2018 that the truth was revealed by a pair of reporters that followed Mr. Adultman to his home after work where he was seen taking off his trench coat and the two 8 year olds inside split apart before heading in to finish play Mario Kart on their Nintendo switch.
We interviewed several locals to Redwood Valley to get their thoughts on the matter.
“I mean yeah... he’s like 9 feet tall and his arms only reach maybe halfway through his sleeves. I thought we all voted for him as a joke. Y’know like that one town with a dog as their mayor? Christ did you guys really not know? His name is ‘Vincent ADULT MAN’ I mean come on.”
“Well I kind of figured, what with the voice and all. He very clearly sounds like a child attempting to be an adult. Not even to mention the fact that his crotch has been feeding him lines when he loses his train of thought during speeches”
Information is still coming to light, but so far all that we know is Vincent Adultman’s crotch has been grounded from TV and playing outside for 3 months. Information on the top half of the mayor’s punishment has yet to be released.
| Reporter: “Mayor, mayor. How do you respond to these allegations that you’re actually just two eight year olds in a trench coat.”
Mayor(s): “I suppose the truth was bound to get out eventually. We only wanted to make the town a better place. It’s why we took it upon ourselves to improve public parks and swimming pools, make school lunches less icky, and ban homework. It’s why we advocated for later bedtimes. It’s why we supported longer summer vacations. It’s why all of our charity events were actually just local Fortnite tournaments. We’re sorry, mom and dad. We didn’t mean to lie. We just wanted to have fun and make the world a bette place for our friends.”
| 2018-08-28T09:24:03 | 2018-08-28T06:30:43 | 42 | 11 |
[WP] As it turns out, 70-s scifi was right. Aliens have all sorts of unimaginable technology, ftl, teleportation, even moving planets. And yet, the human smartphone is by far the most capable handheld device, rivaling the computational power of entire fleets. | Ten billion bits per second.
Not ten thousand, not even the record one million that Relo engineers managed on superconducting twisted pair. The issue wasn't the medium, as the loss was negligible. Rather the problem was the noise floor on the circuitry itself and the limited switching rate of the electromechanical relays used.
Xalens grimaced at the thought, while his seven fingers continued to unspool the reel of yellow fiber. The technician behind him used his manipulator to dig a thin trench in the steel bulkhead. Another squeezed the cable inside the gap before the manipulator fused the trench shut at the molecular level.
This was better than the hollow electrical conduits used on human ships - ocean going ones, he reminded himself. Once sealed in, the connection would be as indestructible as the bulkhead itself. For redundancy's sake, two other teams were installing additional links from the bridge to the communications closet.
Not a computer center, a hall of chittering microscopic relays arranged in lattices. The noise alone was deafening. A powerful cooling system was needed to keep the superconductors happy, pushing excess heat into outer space.
Worst of all was the fact that those relays were prone to failure. Xalens had worked on those in school, and it was quite the exercise to stare at the blinkenlights to see which module was at fault. The datacenters obviously had proper test vectors and voting circuits, but even those weren't foolproof.
But hey, that was the price of going digital. The Relo flag *Convergence* was one of the few with this computerized navigation and communications system. One that was now being upgraded with human technology literally generations ahead.
Xalens stopped at the "closet", a tiny room guarded by Marines in dark blue armor. One ran a lamp over the tattoo on his neck, causing the hologram to flicker in bright colors. With a nod, he was ushered in with the rest of his team.
In human terms, the piece of equipment in the room was the size of a bar fridge. A half-rack with twenty-four spaces, the metal frame securely welded to the floor.
"Thank you, Xalens," the human beside the rack said. His accent was atrocious, but at least understandable. "We'll take it from here."
Another human was seated at a desk with a monitor and keyboard. The teeny 8-bit microcontroller in the monitor's switching power supply already destroyed the enormous computers Xalens used at school. Ditto for the one in the keyboard that literally took the keypresses and sent them to the computer.
Xalens could design one with much less, of course. Just multiplex the signals over a wire, all in hardware. The humans had a lot more signaling and baggage in place though, from checksums to rate negotiation over the "USB" protocol. Something which he supposed made sense when integrated circuits could be obtained so easily.
The first technician began fiddling with the fiber terminations, and Xalens had time to stare at the servers in the rack. Each had ten gigabits of I/O and 256 gigabytes of memory. For the humans, that wasn't even particularly special for a 1U server. Xalens knew that if he added up every bit of volatile and non-volatile storage in Relo he wouldn't even come close to that number.
Though, the humans were particularly interested in the nanofabrication technologies of his people. Apparently they could be used to construct even denser storage devices in the order of petabytes.
Meanwhile, each server had sixteen processor cores. Xalens remembered the Relo crowd scoffing at that, as their machines used heavy parallelization to compensate for the slowly switching relays. It was common for a Relo system to have thousands of clustered compute units.
Then their guest speaker announced that each core ran at three GHz, had multiple execution units, and operations like multiplication only took a couple cycles. You could've heard a pin drop.
As Xalens finally took his awestruck eyes off the equipment and prepared to leave, he saw the human at the desk lean back and take out his mobile phone. While weaker than the servers, the computing capacity of such a small device was mindblowing.
He craned his elongated neck, glancing at the screen. The human had earbuds in and was watching a looping motion picture of some of their domestic pets frolicking. *Cats*, he reminded himself.
Xalens chuckled as he stepped outside. Humans, of all people, had all this power in the galaxy and they chose to use it for entertainment.
---
/r/digitallyfreestories | Stephen Post stood on one of the universe’s biggest stage. Though every seat was filled, there was surprising quiet, broken only briefly by hushed whispers brimming with anticipation. The electricity in the air could probably power a lithium-ion battery fit for a spaceship.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Stephen said, a wry smile the only colour on his simple, black outfit. “We humans are terribly lucky to be at this conference. I only made it myself because General Zexus of the Zeratonians helped move Earth a little closer to the drop zone, where President P’li’nko of the Proset picked us up in a FTL ship.”
There was a smattering of cheering. Both the general and the president, who sat in the front row, beamed proudly.
“We’ve been a late addition to the intergalactic party, as it turns out. We thought our world big, when the universe has only become smaller. We know now that we can transport worlds, or to other worlds, faster than the blink of an eye.”
Stephen paused, strolling to the side of the stage. He picked up a water bottle, and sipped slowly. Meanwhile, not a single strand of hair or antenna moved. Stephen smiled again—there was no feeling quite like this, where everybody hung off your every word.
“But as you esteemed individuals know, even latecomers to the party can offer up more than expected. And with the humans, there was the smartphone.”
Stephen breathed deeply. Ah, even the scent of expectancy was sweet.
“My galactic neighbours,” Stephen said, pointing to the screen. “Here’s one of the greatest devices we’ve ever made—the iPhone!”
Like a storm releasing its pent-up passions, a thunderous applause clapped through the arena. It built and built, refusing to calm down, and Stephen could only wait for everything to die down with a grin.
“Great job, Stephen,” the gruff voice in Stephen’s ear crackled. “Got them eating right out of your hands.”
“Of course, General White,” Stephen whispered. “Think they but it?”
“That we are about 50 generations past the first iPhone? Bah. There’s a reason all their ships use buttons. A touchscreen is leaps and bounds ahead of anything they ever knew.”
“And that gives us an advantage,” Stephen said, still waving his hand politely. There seemed to be no signs of the storm abating.
“A tactical one, no less,” General White said. “Let them have their terrifying fighters that can shoot from lightyears away. We’ve got a much better way of ruining their lives.”
“A smartphone, of course,” Stephen said. “That’ll teach them.”
“Of course it will,” White snapped. “This is soft power, lad. Even I know that. Just do your job and continue selling the phone.”
“Sure,” Stephen sighed, still waving a hand.
“Social media? Check. Games? Check. Cameras for spying? Check,” White said. “Get these devices into the hands of every alien out there. And trust me, an overwhelming victory does not need to be won through bloodshed—this is our battlefield.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-06-04T10:54:22 | 2022-06-04T10:16:52 | 419 | 269 |
[WP] The devil mixed up your paperwork and gave you someone else's personal hell, which to you, is heaven. | I stared into the room, not daring move from the long, endless corridor the demon had led me down. I could see beyond the doorway, an old house, leaky, crumbling, mouldy. I could smell it from where I stood, it smelled of age, of decay.
The demon placed a flaming hand on my shoulder, his touch cool on my skin. "A thousand small jobs, never finished, an infinity of cycling, trying to fix, to clean, to repair." He grinned at me, sharp teeth flashing. "I'll be back to check on you in," He glanced at the clipboard in his other hand, "One Thousand Years." With that, he shoved me, hard, and I stumbled into the room.
The door slammed shut before I could turn, and as it did, dust filtered down through the gaps in the ceiling above me. I frowned.
A pile of tools, fresh and new, sat imposingly in the corner.
Immediately, I began listing out the things to start with, the jobs to prioritise. I looked around, and found a notepad and pen. Smiling, I began to write.
-
The demon, smug as ever, smiled broadly at me as she led me towards my own "Personal Hell" as she described it. She opened a door and waited for me to walk in on my own.
"Alright, your personal hell is..." She ran her lit finger down her clipboard. "A room with nothing practical to do." She frowned. "You are Mr. Watson, yes?"
I swallowed, and nodded.
"Someone will come to let you out in four hundred years." She grinned from the doorway. "Any questions?"
I shook my head.
She shut the door, and silence enveloped me. The room I stood in was so plain, white walls and white floors, and a single chair. A stack of books lay in the corner, thick tomes which would take weeks to pore over. I smiled.
-
"What do you mean?" The devil snapped, slapping a bright blue hand onto his desk. "How could this happen? Don't we have any plans in place for when people come through with the same name?"
The female demon looked away. "We do, after the Smith incident it was added to the new starter process, but I think our clipboards must have been mixed up."
The devil pinched the bridge of his nose. "We can't open up the rooms until the time is up." He sighed, leaning back. "Leave it. Fudge the paperwork."
The demons exchanged a look, but nodded, and rushed away. They slammed the door behind them, and the devil was alone again.
The devil ran his finger over the names on his list. "I suppose you two slip through the net." | In the end it was the cigs that killed me, everyone always said they would. Anyway, i found myself in a massive waiting room like at the doctors office. Some stoned looking demon with stubby horns was stamping papers at the check-in desk.
"Where am I exactly?" I stammered when It was my turn to hand in my papers. As the demon took my documents and began sorting them he maintained eye contact with me wordless. It seemed as if he was trying to act tough but having a bad sense of humour about my own mortality I started chuckling. Flustered the demon quickly hands back my papers, as soon as I grab them I feel myself falling.
They must have made a mistake. An endless ocean of massive swells, and a strong breeze. "Stranded" on a small little sailboat with a triangular sail. I couldn't believe it THIS was the hell I got haha! To someone afraid of the sea this would have been a bad way to spend eternity, but for me a life long sailor it was pure bliss. A steady breeze, surfing wave after wave getting the small boat up on a plain.
When I was alive I spent all my time working so I could one day spend all my time sailing, but work always won out. I can't believe my luck, I don't think God could have come up with somthing better than this! | 2016-05-28T14:22:58 | 2016-05-28T14:12:52 | 102 | 22 |
[WP] For centuries, Mother Earth has been awakening parts of herself to fight the infection of humans. Viruses, bacteria, animals, and even large storms have done nothing to abate them. Today she awakens the trees. | The Elder gestured for his servants to leave. Not rudely -- having served him for millennia, the attendants all knew that he was a kind and benevolent deity. Which is why the proposition they'd just heard was so unsettling.
"Is there no other way?"
Her words had been less convincing than the sadness in her eyes. She'd watched over them since the beginning, and back then, the humans were the pride and joy of the heavens. For fifty thousand years, the immortals had beamed with pride as consciousness and morality shaped their grandest creation into an independent, strong, and occasionally wise race of beings.
"Of course there are other ways," replied Mother Nature in a shaking voice. "You can burn their cities with fire, smite them with lightning, or kill millions at once with an unnatural tide. Direct intervention --"
But she was waved off. The Elder's goal had always been for Man to join the ranks of immortals as equals. To speak directly to them, to straight-forwardly tell them how egregiously they had erred, would defeat tens of thousands of years of work. They had to learn their lesson the hard way.
The Elder asked, "The trees have agreed to this?"
"They understand," nodded Mother Nature. "The wound will be grievous, but we're all too invested now. Mankind must succeed. All growth requires pain."
"But they do not learn, do not listen, do not pay attention to our most clear signals! How will this be different?"
A tear fell from Mother Nature's eye. She only just kept the sobbing out of her voice as she replied, "That's why this wound must be deep. Hundreds of millions, both fauna and man, must go. Only then can the healing begin. Amputation to save the whole."
The Elder hated knowing that she was right. He mulled for several seconds, thinking back on an eternity of wisdom for any other possibility that might spare his most precious creation the hurt that was to come, but could find nothing. Finally, slowly, he nodded.
To her credit, Mother Nature straightened her back. What must come would require the strongest of resolves, and her compassionate nature would need to be put aside for centuries to see this brutal task through.
She snapped her fingers, and the deities shuddered. No mortal on Earth would notice the significance of a pine cracking open in the Canadian tundra, but that small splintering, unheard in the frozen wasteland, would eventually mean the death of a billion living souls. Hundreds of years of ecological disease and suffering, crippling the environment before it laid waste to humanity.
The Blight had been released.
\--------------------
136/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\--------------------- | It was first considered a hoax, but that did not last long.
People from all arround the world started sharing their stories, but I did not believe them. I looked out at my own tree, and it never moved.
The news broke out thay the trees had started to seek for blood, how they no longer fell over cars on accident, but instead dropped over people willinly.
But I stayed in my backyard, with my unmoving tree.
The next day, I could listen through the radio how roots would get tangled arround people and crush their insides.
Yet I never felt threatened by the tree in my backyard.
I was scared of going out, but not to stay. I sat under my tree and enjoyed it's shade. But I commited an accident as I stumbled and fell.
My head bounced against the bark, but it didn't sound like wood. For the first time ever, I could see the bark was loose. I pulled, and twisted but it never came off, so the only answer was to burn it down. I got my match, and raced to the tree, with no hesitation setting the fire free.
It did not take long for it to consume the so called tree, and under it's surface I could clearly read:
"Save for the end. Mother has returned. Enter and save yourself as we have done before. A&E"
The tree inside was metal, and so I opened the door. Some stairs lead to a never ending darkness. | 2018-11-03T09:43:38 | 2018-11-03T09:35:26 | 122 | 38 |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | Another clang is heard, as someone ONCE AGAIN walks into the bar, set low near the door. It's at a legal height, thought.
I know it's at a legal height. Because this is my bar. I've worked here for years. And I'm telling you, this place is haunted. And that bar? I've seen about ten people walk into it, this week so far alone. The depressing part is it's only Tuesday.
Anyway, the bar. The height. It'll go the same way it always go.
The man will look at what's he just hit. He does.
He'll look around, for a moment. He does.
He'll say the obvious thing they all say.
"Ouch."
And then he'll say the idiotic thing they all say.
"Why the **** is there a bar here?"
I sigh again, as I continue to clean a glass. I tilt my head to the side of the man. He looks down, and reads the warning label.
'Low Bar. Mind Step.'
Same every time. So many times, that I have had to deal with a court case at least once a month.
Some of them, I'll put my hands up, and say were my fault. Sometimes I've been watching too much of a show like South Park, or browsing /R/4Chan, of both at the same time, and I'll just say the most stupid thing I can.
'We don't serve your kind around here' to so many different species. Only the Noble Gases didn't react to that one.
The time I asked the horse why he had a long face? I didn't even mean to be funny, much less racist. He just honestly looked sad.
All that is just the tip of the iceberg. So many surreal things happen at this place, I honestly feel like my whole life is just one big joke. Waiting for the next schmuck to walk in to the bar, and say Ouch.
And as always, I'll be here. Tending bar. Waiting for the next lawsuit. | 'Oh for fucks sake, not again!' The elderly man behind the slick, wooden bar sighed in exhasperation. Another pair of twits has 'walked into the bar' again. That makes the fourth today and its only ten o'clock in morning! The bar is extraordinarily clean as the elderly man has spent many years tending to it with a well oiled cloth. The tables and chairs are arranged neatly, napkins and cutlery placed with obvious care. Wooden floorboards were stain and spill free, surprising with the amount of Jokesters who think they're funny.
Suddenly the door screaches on un-oiled hinges and a horse walk in.
Not again | 2016-09-18T17:17:38 | 2016-09-18T16:48:53 | 56 | 14 |
[WP] You survived the alien invasion because it happened during your intro level engineering class' final. It turns out your crackpot professor invents some rather creative weapons in his spare time. | Mr. Hudson was an utter prick.
Five f**cking questions—open ended—all with seven parts, and only 30 minutes to finish this part of my final. F*ck.
“Mr. Hudson, may I run to the bathroom quickly?”
A forced yes withdrew from his mouth, but, yet, his eyes did not lift from the piece of copper wire that he was tinkering with. As I passed his desk on my way out, he dropped his hands and hid his toy as he watched me with drought eyes on my procession out. Weird-ass guy...
Right as I got out of class and began my march to the bathrooms, I reached down to my shoe and withdrew my secret weapon, my phone. I’ve been cheating on tests for years, why change something when it works.
I guess I might have been too busy focusing on memorizing these answers and not getting caught, but I didn’t notice the blood on the mirror in the men’s room on the second floor. Nor did I notice the fact that there was no noise coming from anywhere. It was as if the school was holding its breath in fear of letting someone, or, rather, something, hear it’s feeble noises.
I finished up on my phone, stuck it back in my shoe, and turned to the urinal to take a victory piss. That’s when I saw Mark. His pale eyes drove daggers into my heart. His head was smashed open against the side of the urinal while his clothes were seared as if he had burst into flames for three seconds. I took a step back in horror as my hand went up to my mouth, trying to prevent a horrified scream from being engendered. I put my hand on the sink for balance and took a breath. Reaching for my phone I dialed 911. No response.
I tried again. A mechanical voice answered me: “We’re sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”
What the absolute f*ck. How is 911 down?
I couldn’t stand to look at his butchered body anymore. I ran out of the bathroom screaming for help. Running faster and faster, I began to pick up on my surroundings. Walls had gaping holes in them that were still burning bright red around the edges. There were bodies everywhere. Blood caked the under soles of my shoes as I made my feverish dash for Mr. Hudson’s class. But as I rounded the last corridor, I saw it.
“What. The. Fuck.”
A hunched over beast sporting what looked like obsidian-clad armor. It’s figure was monstrous, it’s head was almost touching the 13 foot ceiling above it. And I say head because I don’t know what to call that thing. It looked like a god damn octopus head that was stuffed in a see through plaster mask. It’s back had a string of wires that all connected it’s hip to the top of its torso. In between the hip and torso it looked as if someone had cut it in half and placed a shit ton of weaponry in the gap. Maybe it’s because I’m a college freshman, which makes quite the bitch, I began to feel the cold clutch of sleep take over my body as I passed out. The last thing I saw as my body crumpled to the floor was the beast turn it’s taloned feet and glare me in the eye.
I awoke in a seemingly subterranean room made of concrete and cold as f*ck.
“Morning junior!” Mr. Hudson smiled straight at me from a chair across the room. He was still tinkering with the toy that he had at finals.
“Mr. Hudson,” I said through stuttered breaths, “what the hell was that thing?”
“They’re called Gixes here, but some other countries are starting to call them Angels of Death.” He went back to playing with his copper wire toy.
I drew a breath, “How did I survive?”
“Simple. Like this.” In that instant I saw Mr. Hudson throw the wire in his hand from across the room onto me. As it hit me, I felt the cold clutch of sleep once more. Yet this time, the last thing I saw was my reflection in the mirror, as my body was covered in armor and weaponry.
Mr. Hudson had created a touch activated full battle suit that fit in the size of a fucking copper wire, the only catch was that it took over my consciousness. I gave into my sleep and drifted away.
-50 years later by Earth Standard time-
I awoke sweating. Hands wrinkled. Eyesight poor. Body aching. Arm missing. Blood all over my hands. Bodies all around me. Alien bodies.
“Morning junior!” | Dammit.” I muttered, staring at the paper. I was definitely going to fail this.
“Oh well.”
After two years of collage, I had mastered the art of not giving a shit.
I started to work on another question, when the room was rocked by a giant explosion outside.
I head snapped up and I stared at my friend Lizzie, “What was that?”
Talking filled the room, everyone seemingly forgotten that we were taking a final. Mr. Rothenberg was about to speak, when a giant sound outside sent us into another wave of questions.
“Class!”
We ignored him. “Quinn, it was probably just a car crashing into the building.”
I stared at Lizzie. “You can’t be serious. That was not a car. That sounded like a bomb, or something.”
“Class! Quiet down!
Lizzie rolled her eyes, “Right. A bomb. Because St. John’s is obviously a threat.”
“Dude, someone is throwing bombs at us. We can figure out why later.”
“CLASS!”
Finally, we stopped and stared at him, a mixture of fear and confusion in our eyes.
“I checked the news reports. We are officially under attack by aliens.”
My mouth fell open.
“That can’t be right.”
Lizzie looked back at me, and for the first time I saw real fear in her eyes.
“Sir, are you sure you didn’t check The Onion?”
Nervous laughter filled the room, but stopped when the sounds of distant screams filled the air. Mr. Rothenberg glared at Max, the boy who said it and continued.
“I believe we can stop them.”
“What are you talking about?” Yelled a girl from the back of the room.
“In my spare time, I've been designing a weapon. I keep it in my closet.”
I flinched as more explosions were set off.
“Respectfully Sir, shouldn't we just wait for the government to send some troops?”
A few others nodded and murmured in agreement. In response, Mr. Rothenberg strode over the window and opened the blinds. I stood up and stared in horror.
Strange ships were attacking the building, people were running around everywhere and the police were shooting at them, but it didn't have any affect.
We started to rush towards the door, to run.
“SIT DOWN!”
We froze and stared at my teacher, shocked.
“Dude, we have to get out of here. They'll kill us.”
“Not if I can help it.”
He raced over to his closet and opened the doors, revealing a giant laser gun like thing.
“What the hell?! Sir, how much time do you have?” I gaped.
He flashed us a smile and smacked my forehead. Aliens were attacking and the only adult around was completely insane. Great.
Mr. Rothenberg pulled it out and aimed it out the window. Before we could react, he pulled something and a beam of green light raced out from the tip.
A giant crash echoed through the classroom as it hit a large ship, sending it crashing.
“Don't worry, kids. We’ll be fine.”
| 2019-01-14T08:11:06 | 2019-01-14T05:06:54 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Millions witnessed as enormous spaceships emerged from the depth's of the oceans and left Earth. After the event submarines found vast, empty cities underwater, built with unknown tech. Among many unknown symbols, there was one short message in English: "You have 20 years left. They are coming" | Jamie took her glasses off and rubbed them, as if cleaning the lenses would make the giant, underwater city go away. How did they miss this? How had they missed this?
She'd been to this area of the Mariana Trench before. This very area. That's why she'd been sent on this mission.
"We found it here too," reported Jeremy, her coworker, the archeologist. "You have 20 years left. They are coming." He sighed and also took off his glasses, cleaning the lenses. "What could it mean?"
"Well we're no damn closer here. Take down the symbols, send them to linguistics. Maybe they can make some sense out of this."
Jeremy was already at work taking pictures while Jamie checks the submarine's vital signs. As she made some adjustments to the oxygen and pressure levels, a huge release of bubbles from a vent beneath the sub released.
Jamie assumed they'd die. Really, she did. An abnormality couldn't just occur this at 11k meters without killing you. There was no way to escape it. Deep-sea diving had precious few escape routes.
But they didn't die. Instead, as the bubbles cleared, the pair saw a new message on the wall.
"You have 19 years. They are coming."
That's when the panic started setting in.
___
Six months passed of frantic research. When Jamie and Jeremy next went down, the message had changed to 16 years. It wasn't following Earth's time. However, the weirdest part of it all was that each underwater city had a different time. The shortest said 6 years remaining. The longest of them expired in 2030. No one knew what to do.
"Maybe we just evacuate Earth." Jeremy leaned back in his chair, eyes heavy from sleepless nights. "Shoot a few billionaires up to Mars, see if they can't repopulate us."
"Mmm, I'm sure Elon Musk would love that. Imagine, an entire new generation inseminated by him. He'd probably try to copyright that, name them in his image." Jamie can't stop a hysterical little giggle that is soon choked by a sob. She shook her head, surprised at herself.
"You have family, James?" Jeremy asked, tactfully ignoring the show of emotion.
"A mom, a dad, same as everyone. They're getting along in age. Part of me thinks I should quit this and just give them a good couple remaining months before earth goes caput." Her parents were in a home and her sister had died of cancer years ago. She had an ex from her 20s she didn't talk to. No kids. Jeremy didn't need to know any of that.
He nodded. "I've got some cousins. A twin I don't talk to. You'd think I'd want to reconcile with him but I'm not interested. It was his bad, not mine. If he wants to make good, he knows how to reach me."
It was small talk, kinda. Talking about the family and friends they'd lose, that's what passed as small talk these days. But they could only dawdle so long, so the two turned back to their work.
___
The quickest timer hit 0 on January 3rd, 2028. It was pretty on the nose. Jamie and Jeremy had watched the countdown with the same grimness that they'd watched the 2028 New Year's Eve shows. It had been beyond surreal watching people try to celebrate. Almost as surreal as what occurred on the morning on January 3rd.
A spaceship descended. In a sense, it was almost anti-climatic because everyone expected it. The ship was unlike any they'd seen, expectedly, and the MechEs and the astrophysicists and the astronomers and the nuclear physicists all went nuts. Then the aliens stepped off and the zoologists and biologists went nuts.
The privileged few who had been on the specific case surrounded the ship. News reporters tried to get in with their microphones and Jamie was almost impressed at how reckless they were. When the Mariana Trench times out, if humans are still alive, she wanted nowhere near that ship.
The first alien to step out is immediately swarmed and Jamie can't see much of it. But she hears when it starts speaking and what it says changes the face of Earth forever, in a way no one predicted.
___
It's 2029. April. Midway through April. The sky hums with ships and the night rarely comes with the influx of massive vessels in orbit. Some of the aliens clustered around the moon, some around Venus or Mars, even some as far out as Mercury.
The ground is cluttered with debris. This is what happens when twelve alien races decide that your homeworld is their battlegrounds.
What no one expected was for Earth to not be their target. No one expected how much the aliens would care about the humans. No one expected the aliens to try to win the humans over.
Jamie is one of the six remaining scientists on the Mariana Trench team. She and Jeremy are 1/3 of the team not removed for corruption. Corruption is defined as anything other than milking the aliens for all the tech they can. Corruption is defined as wanting the fighting to stop. Because this thing ends with either all the aliens dying, leaving a clear victor, or with Earth deciding a victor. And while the fighting continues, so do the bribes. Protesting the orbital war is now considered treason by many governments. That's how crazy life has gotten.
Occasionally there's a space battle so ferocious that the shrapnel hits Earth and there are casualties. This always causes the aliens involved to fall over themselves to make reparations.
Not all the species have arrived yet. Jamie is one of the few of the mind to stop the fighting, but even then, it's not clear what the right call is. While the fighting continues, Earth is the darling of the galaxy. Once they pick a winner, they are officially welcomed into the space age. They will have 100 years to prepare for the next intersystem gladiatorial battle.
At least, this is what the translators believe is the case. It's not entirely sure. Maybe a loser might just nuke the planet.
The aliens are all set to be here come 2030. The total species expected are 20 and Jamie isn't sure if the planet can survive that level of war.
So they have about eight months. Jamie and Jeremy watch their steps carefully as they walk home from work that Friday evening. Their steps are traced almost more than anyone's, so it's delicate work avoiding the watching eyes of the US government.
But they've done it a dozen times and soon find themselves alone and unwatched as they approach a sewer grate. In a flash of half a second, both have disappeared down it. From there, it's a short walk to where the rest of the rebellion lives.
The two have some clout there, being one of the few scientists left on a specific alien's team. The Mariana Aliens are called just that and both scientists have a wealth of information about them.
The meeting room of the rebellion is packed with dozens of people. As crowded as it feels, it also feels starkly empty. This is all New York City could attract. These are the only inhabitants willing to risk the government's wrath to save the Earth.
The meeting commences and Jeremy tosses Jamie an eye that was probably supposed to be reassuring, but it doesn't work. Because this is the day they bring news that is going to cause a lot of folks to lose hope.
"Jamie has a few words now, from the tech team." The leader of the NYC branch, a disgraced but competent general, waves Jamie up to the podium.
"What we know is short but troubling." She clears her throat. "Actually, troubling is a light word to use. But we've translated the latest batch of information from the Mariana Aliens. A 21st alien species is heading to Earth. One that hasn't competed in millennia. One that none of them realized was still alive." She rubbed her glasses, aware of the eyes on her. "We only just finished deciphering the message. It was sent to us months ago and if we'd had the time..."
"When are they scheduled to arrive?" the general asks, his voice rife with urgency.
"Six weeks." Jamie pushes her glasses back on. "We don't have eight months. We have six weeks."
___
Read more stories at [r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide/) | Turns out that Plato's story about Atlantis, might have been more than a morality story aimed at improving Athenian attitude. There really was a civilisation, far more advanced than any other. It sank beneath the seas as the oceans rose after the last ice age ended, and the glaciers melted. We learned this in the most unusual manner possible. We learned this when the Atlanteans evacuated Earth.
Their vast empty underwater cities, before shielded from our sight by vast hard-light holographic shielding, were now open to us. They were human, after a fashion, closer to evolved Neanderthals than the modern Homo Sapiens, or so our anthropologists and archaeologists found as they excavated the vast necropoli built into the ocean floor.
But the thing that we were most excited about, and perhaps most worried about, was the launch hangars for their ships. They were covered in hundreds of different languages. Thousands. A simple group of words, written in Etruscan, Linear B, Mohenjo-Daro text, and various languages and alphabets which we have never seen before. But one was written in a modern language. A simple message with a complex story to it.
It was in English, though Elizabethan, which translated into modern English read, ''*You have 20 years left. They are coming.*'' Immediately after the message was found the conspiracy theories grew like weeds. Ranging from a Reptilian invasion, to the return of the Old Gods, to the Rapture, to the return of an immortal Elvis, they were all being spoken about by everyone.
And behind closed doors, serious men and women, wearing serious clothes in serious rooms, held very quiet and very important talks. To curb the panic, these men and women called for planetary mobilisation. The entirety of the world was turned from a capitalist consumer economy, to a militarised war economy. And everything was turned towards preparing for the whoever would be coming. Orbital weapons platforms, self-sustaining listening bases on the Moon and Mars, more ICBMs, a united world military government. Scientists and engineers worked tirelessly in the abandoned Atlantean cities to reverse-engineer whatever technology had been left behind when they fled. All of this was achieved in the 20 years between the Escape of the Atlanteans, and the coming of the unknown enemy.
The soft human race, millions of which had watched with awe as the Atlantean colony ships fled from the Earth, was no more. The human race had changed from sheer fear. A collective enemy, a fear that all races, creeds, and groups could stand by. And when the deep space warning probes went silent, mankind readied themselves. When the listening posts on Mars sent out warnings before being silenced, the human race prepared their final battle.
And perhaps, it would have been better to have let it happen. To have given up and died. For the war that followed left us ash and corpses in the wake. The enemy struck humanity with weapons which could only barely be understood within our current laws of physics. The enemy struck with no mercy. And mankind, brave and bold, answered back with everything they had.
When the enemy glassed Australia, the few brave survivors on the Moon base boarded their final craft, filled with the Lunar atomic stockpile, and sacrificed themselves to take out the main enemy bombardment ships. When genetically engineered monstrosities were unleashed, it didn't matter if the humans had to affix bayonets to get the killing blow, if only the monsters could be destroyed.
The entire civilian population of many countries were armed with everything they had, and sacrificed themselves to the last human, just to hold the enemy back one more day. When the mutagenic bombs turned humans into creatures which Cronenberg could have only dreamt of, they were still sent to fight. Because this was a war of no mercy. A war of no retreats. A battle where mankind had no intention to win, only to make the enemy's victory as bloody, meaningless, and horrible as possible. To make them bleed their copper-based blood for every atom of the planet they dared to take.
Mankind fought long. Mankind fought hard. Mankind used every horrible and vile weapon ever created by a species such as ours, which holds war so dear to our hearts. In the end the human race poisoned the waters and the land, killing the planet. If humanity could not have the planet, then it would be better if it was dead, or so they reasoned.
That was enough for the aliens. They left in disgust over mankind's insane and zealous defence of Earth. They thought that mankind had committed collective suicide, culled themselves to spite their foes, and deny them the victory which they so desperately desired. But the human race, was not undone. In one of the Atlantean's hangars, was found an unfinished colony ship. A single one of them, which had transported the isolationist Atlanteans to safety. The 20 years was used to prepare that craft for leaving. All samples from the Svalbard Global Seed Vault was loaded aboard the ship. All genetic codes from nearly all known animals on the planet. A good number of medical labs and hydroponic farming areas. A few priceless pieces of human culture, and of course, a significant number of humans in stasis. A total of five-hundred thousand humans in stasis aboard the massive colony ship in fact.
They had been placed in stasis when the battle in Earth's orbit was lost. Only a small crew of scientists and space pilots were onboard the ship. Every month they had received a message from the world government, telling them to wait. Now they hadn't received one in three months, and their remaining scanners told them that the alien fleet had left Earth's orbit.
Since they hadn't received the all-clear signal, they concluded that the Final Sanction of the United Nations Emergency World Government, had been invoked. Emerging from a secret base underneath Greenland, the ship rose into the toxic atmosphere, leaving the dying Earth behind.
And as the ship left, called the Väinämöinen, a name which was picked randomly from a variety of cultural choices, the crew of the ship, talked about the future of mankind. They were heading to a series of likely habitable worlds, trying to find one suitable for colonisation. But the talk among the crew became one of whether the human race could endure another war, if the alien enemy came for them again.
The consensus was eventually reached, that the human race would find a safe haven. And from there, they would build an interstellar empire. One strong enough to not merely hold off an invasion, but to bring total and complete war to those who had invaded Earth. To bring cast down the race which had attacked Earth, and one day return to that cradle of humanity. To cleanse it, and make it a home once again. They swore, as did the colonists later on New Earth, to one day stand on the green fields of Old Earth again.
And woe to any race, even their long lost cousins the Atlanteans, who would stand in their way.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | 2020-07-29T09:14:34 | 2020-07-29T08:31:01 | 569 | 147 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | Famine, Pestilence, Death, War. The four horsemen of the apocalypse. Supreme beings of havoc, and an idea that humans (once achieving a galactic level) quickly found spread across the worlds. Famine, The Rektinkin. Pestilience, The Kratar. Death, The An'ihum. And War, The Humans.
When Humans entered the galactic scene, they ruptured a delicate balance that was in place. They destroyed the stalemate that stopped the 3 major powers from war. As every race set their sights on the prey, intent of claiming them as their own, gaining the advantage, the humans seemed blissfully unaware that their attempts at peaceful communication showed the universe one thing: they embody peace, and have suffered nothing. A far contrast to the three powers.
The Rektinkin, born on an unforgiving planet that punished every mistake with death. Resources scarce, the reptile-like species embraced the Famine, and learned the power of oneself. They birthed great warriors that took all the resources, instead of splitting them amongst many people. As such, the species was able of rivaling entire army's of other species alone. However the birth rate of these creatures were abysmal, and as such couldn't triumph in all out war against the other two. When they saw the Humans and their home Planet of earth, rich in resources, they saw their chance. How many more warriors could they birth with Earths help? And so they waged war on the seemingly helpless species. The humans had no idea of scarcity, so they had nothing to embrace! How could such species pose a threat?
Similarly, The Kratar lived in a world of nature, where they could never triumph over the destruction of the Great Green. They suffered from being nothing but weak prey. Intelligence? Mattered not, that was for those at the bottom of the food chain. So the Kratar embraced the plague of ever-present green. They were the ambassadors of the Great Green, and as such, were gifted the ability to fully control the power source of life, the Kratar's very own star. With this power, they spread the Great Greens power and influence. They controlled the most planets, able to terraform them for the Great Green, but never once thought to enslave nature, as they had not the power over the Green to be able to claim authority. So when they saw the Humans, they saw a weak species (much like them in the past) however one who had used Intelligence to triumph over their sacred grounds. Blasphamy. How dare a species as useless as humans have the audacity to attempt to control the Great Green? The Katar saw both the potential of triumph over their greatest weapon, and a weak species who had yet to fully understand it. Should they learn their potential, the Great Green would be destroyed by such a weak species, one who had no hardships, who had embraced nothing! The Kratar could not have it, and as such, declared war on the humans.
At the same time, The An'ihum suffered from the inevitable. Death. Their species had an incredibly short life span. Nothing could ever be done, and nothing was ever being done. The An'ihum each had their own needs, and had once sought a fulfilling life doing what they wanted. The neighboring species on the same planet all pushed the An'ihum away easily. The An'ihum where all so singularly focuses on themselves, and their short life spans that the species never evolved. They cursed their life spans as the An'ihum population got smaller and smaller. It was in a moment of true desperation that the An'ihum changed. Every new birth was done to perform one duty, then embrace death. With their incredible reproduction ability, the An'ihum held deaths hand as they brute forced their way to being the apex species on their planet. So when Humans, a relatively long-living species entered their sights, they saw knowledge. They saw what they wanted, the ability to extend their lives, as the humans had multiplied their expected life span. They also saw the threat this knowledged posed to them and the other speicies. They needed life! Only then could they truly embrace death. So they held no regards about declaring war on a species so intent on running away from death. They knew not the embrace of death, but they shall learn.
And the humans? They were different. Everybody assumed that they just had it easy, as that was why they so nice, so unwilling to spark conflict. But in reality they didn't embrace what they were best at, because they saw what embracing war truly meant. After building the ultimate weapon that made the very universe suffer, they learned that embracing war didn't mean strength. It meant complete and utter annihilation. They didn't embrace war, they surpassed it. And as the hostile species watched the very universe reject their existence, they realised that simple truth.
First time posting here.
Also on mobile, sorry for bad formating. | "What do you mean its gone?" General Ashak asked, half angry, half confused.
"We've lost communication, we no longer have visual confirmation of its existence, the airspace where the fleet should be is vacant of anything but a bit of debris. It just vanished." The ensign replied.
Ashak closed both sets of eyelids hard enough to see spots of bright color bloom in his mind. His tongue flicked the air in annoyance.
"Did they make hyperspace?" He asked after a long moment of contemplation. He didn't even want this war. He was supposed to retire next year. The humans had never done anything to him. He had no quarrel with them. But the Empress, may the sun forever shine upon her, wanted their technology. Supposedly they had discovered a method of mining rare minerals for almost zero energy cost.
"Our instruments say no. They were there one minute and gone the next."
A young private, probably in his early 400s, barely past his first shed, sprinted onto the deck of the command ship.
"General," he saluted, right fist to left shoulder, first and second claw extended in the traditional manner. "I've been sent with an urgent message. All remaining fleets are to return to the capital. The humans have launched a counter attack."
"With what? Sure they have amazing tech, but when it comes to war they're little more than hatchlings with pointed sticks."
"My apologies, sir, but this private does not know."
"Very well. Spread the word: were preparing to male hyperspace for return to Arin. All crew in their stasis pods withing the half-hour."
---------‐----------------------
2 hours later the stasis pod beeped and opened. Akash stepped out, rubbing his eyes, groggily. He made his way to the bridge and turned on the forward view screen to begin docking procedures.
He flipped the switch on the communications board and said into the mic, "Arin tower this is The Empress' Holy Ship Desert Sun. Reporting for orders and preparing to dock. Please send docking code and stand by for touchdown."
He began flipping more switches as the rest of the flight crew made their way into the room.
"Sir, I dont understand. We were supposed to arrive directly above Arin." The navigator sounded unsure.
Akash looked at the screen for the first time and nearly lost his cool. The screen showed a large crater, with rubble strewn about like a hatchlings playroom. He recognized some buildings, the base where he had trained after joining the military, his hatchlings school and the office building his mate worked in, all little more than crumbling walls and shattered stone. Several more ships materialized in the sky around the Desert Sun. Soon the air waves were crowded with captains and generals demanding to know what happened. Within the next 4 hours, the entire armed forces of the Grellian empire hovered above a city that was no longer there.
A single missile blipped on the instrument panel. Some from another ship laughed hysterically about the humans single missile against the entire military.
Akash thought of his hatchlings and his mate. He missed them already. What sorcery could have done this.
The missile detonated against one of the ships. It was engulfed in a small star in the span of a second. The world went quiet, and akash shut his eyes. He felt the heat wash over him. And the Grellian empire ceased to exist. | 2020-02-07T15:29:11 | 2020-02-07T14:41:07 | 50 | 22 |
[WP] "Well you managed to fucking do it. You slept through the apocalypse"
. | She stared at me in a mix of disappointment and awe, shaking her head as she tsked quietly. "Well, you managed to fucking do it," she said finally, raising her eyebrows in resignation. "You slept through the apocalypse." I glanced around, realizing for the first time that the fluffiness upon which I sat was not my bed but rather a never-ending cloud. I chuckled at the intricateness of what was surely a prank or perhaps I was in some elevated state of lucid dreaming.
"The apocalypse, you say?" I responded with a sly grin, deciding to humor her. "What was it? Zombies? The four horsies? Kim Jong-un finally crapped himself?" She frowned a bit deeper at each suggestion before finally stopping me with a wave of her hand, realizing I was clueless about this apparent apocalypse.
"Enough," she announced, rising from a throne that melted back into the clouds as she got to her feet. She was a frail old woman, definitely older than any of the grumpy crones from the neighborhood. She held out a hand and a staff materialized and she used it to carve a hole through the cloud, creating a window through which I could see the remnants of the world. Billowing smoke obscured the view but as the haze shifted and morphed into ghouls and demons, I could see the ruins of what had once been. "War," she explained softly, a look of sadness coming over her face. "First one country with those overpowered bombs and then another country and by the next morning, we have this." As if to shoo away the dark thoughts, she shook her head and allowed the hole to close. "All is not lost, though. My creation still stands. I will simply have to repopulate it once the radiation is gone."
"Your creation?" I asked in confusion, casting her a second glance. "You some type of God?" It was her turn to chuckle now as she nodded.
"Some type of God? I am *the* God. Creator of Earth and all the animals and even you," she explained, sounding a bit disgusted as she finished the sentence. I scratched my head and pouted, a bit skeptical about her claims but deciding there was no other explanation.
"So why am I here?" I looked around again, noting that we were alone on the cloud. I thought back to the previous night; the evening of the G20 summit. It had been rumored that tensions were at a breaking point, but to result in this? I wondered what had become of my family and friends.
"You're my specimen," she said simply and I scowled, unsure as to what she meant. "When I made humans long ago, I made them hardworking and motivated. How else would they have become what they were just a day ago?" I nodded, thinking I understood. Me? Hardworking and motivated? She had clearly made a serious mistake. "You being here is not a mistake," she continued as if she could read my mind. On second thought, she probably could. She nodded as if to confirm my thoughts. "You see, clearly I allowed you humans to over-evolve, developing into monsters capable of putting my creation on the brink of destruction. You're here to help me start over."
"Why me?" I wondered aloud, still not quite comprehending why I had been chosen before the billions of other humans she could have picked from. She smiled now, like an old grandma does before calling you an asshole and kicking your shin.
"I realized that in order to prevent humans from over-evolving again, I had to start with a human who is... under-evolved, so to say. Severely under-evolved, in fact." I looked at her, unsure as to whether or not I should be offended. My confusion seemed to satisfy her and she continued. "It was noted to me by Peter that you are the least developed human he had met for eons. The only ones less capable than you were the ones who passed through before spoken language was invented, but they're basically fossils by now."
I scratched my head and frowned at her, starting to get a bit offended. "So you want me because I'm stupid?"
She shrugged. "Not just stupid. You're also lazy and have a complete lack of motivation and sleep for like 18 hours a day. I mean, you managed to sleep through the apocalypse. Starting with you, I will create a race of humans that simply lack the ability to ruin the world."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | I was awoken by my mother busting in my bedroom door.
"Well way to go! You did it, you actually did it!" she yelled.
"Did what?"
"You slept through the apocalypse! Jesus, first you miss graduation, then your sister having a baby, now this?! When are you going to wake up and get a life?" she asked.
I was still half in dream-world. "Wait," I said, "I slept through what?"
"The APOCALYPSE!" she replied.
"So, what, the world's ended?"
"What do *you* think apocalypse means?"
I couldn't understand it. There was no way she was saying that "A" word. This had to be some kind of weird, dark joke. I had heard reports on the news about a horrible worldwide sickness, but I certainly hadn't thought it to be that big of a deal.
"Wait, wait, wait. Back up." I said. "So, you're telling me, that everyone on Earth just...died?"
"Jesus Timmy, do I need to spell it out for you? Yes, everyone died. At least, everyone that you and I know."
Somehow, my mother and I had not been affected by the sickness. From what I had heard on the news, a very few amount of people had a special gene that made them automatically immune to it. I guess we both carried the gene.
Still laying in bed, hair messy, and shirtless I said, "Shit. I was supposed to start that job at the plumbing place today."
"You know Timmy," she jumped in, "Your father, God rest his soul, would be so disappointed right now. I mean, you can't even be bothered to witness the most important event in human history."
*Most important event in history* sounded like a bit of an exaggeration, which my mother tended to do a lot. I looked out my bedroom window. Dead bodies were sprawled out along the street, as if they had just fallen to their deaths. About a mile in the distance, I saw smoke rising from a plane that had fallen out of the sky. "How did it happen?" I asked.
"Well, everyone just kind of, collapsed all at the same time."
"Damn." I said. "That really sucks."
"Oh, it *sucks*? Timmy, you know, you're 25 years old and still living with your mother." She let out a big sigh. "I can't keep you here forever you know. Especially now, what with all the dead people and world endin' and what not. I think it's time you found your own place. I hear now's a great time to buy."
"Mom, seriously? Just give me a couple more weeks. I'll find a job and be out soon, I promise."
She had heard the story before. She knew I didn't mean it.
"You got one week Timmy. After that, you're out." she said. She walked out the door and left me alone. I pulled out my bong from underneath my pillow and smoked a bowl before starting my day. | 2016-03-11T08:51:05 | 2016-03-11T08:45:46 | 999 | 181 |
[WP] In a world where everyone survives off of basic income, companies have to convince you to work for them.
Credit to u/SearingEnigma & u/abkleinig for the idea. | *Your Mother and Father are already dead*. That's what my grandmother told me, many years ago, when she was still alive.
Well, they weren't dead. They were sitting on either side of me, my father frowning and not saying anything, my mother crying, clutching my arm with both of her hands and saying, "Don't go. Don't go," through a stream of tears.
Despite the fact that both of my parents still drew breath, my grandmother was right.
"I have to go."
"You don't," My father said, "You don't have to go. There is no reason to make your mother upset this way, David."
My mother's voice was almost unintelligible through the tears, "-everything you nee-heed. Why? Why would- *sob* go?"
I had already explained it to them a hundred times. At first, my father laughed. It wasn't until I ripped them both away from their screens, and made them sit down at the kitchen table, and *listen*, that they started taking me seriously.
I would start out on a ship, the lowest rank. In the past, I might've been lucky to get an intern position, but with the drought of employees in the last few decades, they had promised me a ranking position.
In ten years, they said, if I stuck it out, I could get my own ship.
"This is a rebellion, isn't it?"
I could feel the heat rising in my face. I wanted to tell them, yes, that's exactly what this was - I refused to live like them, to glue myself to this perfect place, and never look up.
But I couldn't lie to them, not now. Everything was already so fragile.
"No, that's not it."
"Then why? Tell us why!"
"Son, we live in *paradise*. You can eat what you like, live where you like, *do* what you like. There is no reason-"
I wasn't listening. It wasn't anything new. Nothing here was ever new.
In my head, I could feel my grandmother's words, more than I could hear them. They were like those massive bells you saw in the History programs, the kind that used to hang from old, stone towers, and boomed so loud, you would go deaf if you were too close.
*Your mother and father, they are already dead. They grew up in this dream of a perfect world - a society that provides for the desires of every single person. Only, there is one thing they can never provide.*
*What's that, Grandmom?*
*There is a word, you won't hear it often now, though it was once so common as to be called 'cheap.' That word is Wanderlust; it means the love of exploration. You see, your parents think that this, here, is the future. They think the future is Now. But it isn't Now. The future is never Now. The future is always out there, waiting for you to catch it.*
I pushed myself off the couch, and told them I was going. My mother pawed at my jacket, sobbing.
My father tried to block my way. But it had been a long time since he had done anything outside of his comfort zone, and he was not used to exerting his will on others. I push him away, gently.
I told them I loved them. I told them I'd see them, when I had the chance.
I walked out of my house, and into my future.
***
*For more stories like this, please subscribe to /r/PSHoffman* | Frank Hayes, CEO of Logitech, had little to do on the morning of Tuesday, May 7th. He had many underlings to take care of the necessities -- with over one thousand employees, Logitech was one of the biggest employers in the U.S. So he watched the 24-hour cable news anchors discuss the latest developments in Washington.
"We're interrupting our coverage to go to a live broadcast of Senate Majority Leader Ted Collins as he makes a speech to the public regarding the Necessities Act. . ."
Senator Collins had the crowd fired up in what was more of a political rally than a regular speech by a sitting Senator. Not much of a surprise to most insiders, given that the event was organized by the Committee to Elect Collins President. He could barely be heard over the chanting of his own name.
". . . but this is just the beginning! Last year the unemployment rate in this country was 60 percent!"
Loud booes from the assembled audience.
"And whose fault is it? The corporate moneygrubbers on Wall Street, people like Frank Hayes!"
Louder booing yet for the notorious CEO of Logitech.
"Well I'm here to tell you, that's about to change!"
The jeers switched to excited cheering at the drop of a hat.
"It's a disgrace that nearly forty percent of Americans still have jobs! The Necessities Act was just the beginning. With the Cost of Living Act, we will provide a rise in the basic income each year, allowing it to keep pace with inflation. And this means no person in America will ever have to work again!"
The crowd went wild in a literal sense. Some observers described the events that followed the speech as riots.
***
Frank Hayes turned the television off as Collins walked off the stage. He picked up the telephone and dialed the building operator.
"Operator, how can I help you?"
"Put me through to our man in D.C." said Frank.
He waited a few minutes.
"Hello?" came the voice from the other end of the line, after a short time.
"Teddy! Excellent speech there, you really had them going. . ." | 2016-04-21T06:20:05 | 2016-04-21T05:19:58 | 1,217 | 39 |
[WP] You have drunkenly been discussing the Dark Lord with other tavern patrons, insulting him to no end. When someone storms up demanding you stop as he is one of the Dark Lords students. Strange thing is you don’t remember teaching this kid. | I had read the poetry from the fair islands, learned from the philosophers who gathered at the center of the world, and studied the opinions of the great desert jurists. I enrolled in every school of the arcane that would take me, and traded ideas with every ascetic of every mountain cave.
And I loved it. I loved knowledge like breath or food or the cool, clear, pure water from the mouth of a spring. As much as life itself, for what else was there but knowledge?
But I was troubled. In my travels, I had come to know the ways and whims and hows and whys of the actions of men, how countries fell and grew and fell again, a great cycle, like the lifetimes of each man who would lead. Infancy, adolescence, maturity, senescence, and death. No great plan could materialize if it took even a moment longer than the lifetime of the dynasty tasked to observe it.
So, I figured, I would observe it. An eternal dynasty of one man, constantly overthrowing itself.
Living forever was easy enough, though I didn't much care for it. Those who had struggled long with foul, black magicks towards it never stopped to consider that the real power was in the kindness of strangers, but that's a diatribe for another day.
Then came the shifting of physical form. I thought it would be far harder than it turned out to be, but cursory investigation revealed that a simple change of clothes was enough. Ooh, but some of the scholars at the great western schools have been doing some really fascinating work in the field, I must send some letters to them, and ask for a manuscript of their recent work.
From there was just about patience. I claimed I was a prince from a far off land, and gathered some supporters and followers. Over time, I wore more and more clothes, bent over further and further, before stripping the disguise off and calling myself my own son. How could my power and control fail to grow, when I had a mastery of the arcane at my command, and knew the hearts of men?
But I knew the hearts of men. When I was my own great grandchild, I became greedy, and dressed in black, and made great shows of torturing subjects and my own lavish quarters. At night I would slink off, dressed in the plain clothes that I considered truly mine, and foment my people's hatred of myself.
An acolyte of myself would be sent by myself to intercept myself at myself's orders without knowing who I was. Maybe I'd insult my greed, or my torturous behavior, or simply my inability to satisfy the wife I had never actually taken. My acolyte, not knowing who I was, would attempt to kill my at my own orders. I'd pretend to die, cursing myself with my last breath, and slink away when nobody looked anymore.
Abuses would mount, people would get angry, I'd cloak myself in shining raiment, lead them to overthrow the cowardly dark lord who had clearly since escaped, and bring another age of prosperity for a few generations, before doing it all again.
Yes, a little torture was involved, but it was a small price to pay for keeping the great learning houses funded, where each tome of uncovered knowledge represented a permanent step forward for mankind.
I had read the poetry from the fair islands, learned from the philosophers who gathered at the center of the world, and studied the opinions of the great desert jurists. I enrolled in every school of the arcane that would take me, and traded ideas with every ascetic of every mountain cave. And I would overcome a death greater than what afflicted the body before I saw them forgotten. | I look up from my half-drunk beer towards a Ma-- kid, the kid looked like Every run-of-the-mill kid whose whole family would die in a storm created by me.
I see the panic in the eyes of some commoners, I laugh and laugh. My laughter filled the entire tavern and everyone was quite shaken up because nobody dares to call himself a disciple of the Dark Lord unless he is a true disciple.
I look at the baffled him, his shoes dirty, his eyes dull.
I then spoke up "I know it's you, Alex, you can't fool your master."
The boy's laughter fills the tavern, I look at a particular table, the table number was 8 just like his locket.
I call my 8th disciple "Alex, you should know that silly tricks like this don't work on me."
The man on the table just laughed and everyone feel unconscious except me.
I look towards my eighth disciple interested in what he will do.
I watch him rush towards me with his Magic and spears of different kinds.
I taught him necromancy and yet he uses poison so much.
"Sigh" A huge sigh escapes from my aged mouth yet the smile I held after seeing my disciple grow up is unmovable.
I easily block his attack yet he doesn't back down.
The sound of fighting could be heard throughout the town but not a single soul was alive to witness it.
After 3 days and nights, I look at the exhausted Alex and give him a huge smile. "Come now child, let's go home," I say in a grandfatherly voice only to find that Alex was unconscious. "Ungrateful brat," I mutter to myself before carrying him over my shoulder.
I look at my body and see that I have a wound nay it was a scratch but that scratch proved that he had indeed passed the exam.
I smile again because he could harm me even if it's just a little, The hero couldn't even trim my hair.
"I hope you become a strong boy Alex, Strong enough one day to kill me Alongside your brothers and sisters," I muttered to myself before looking at the stars and teleporting home.
Edit: Anyone wants part 2? | 2022-01-14T13:44:48 | 2022-01-14T13:13:03 | 234 | 104 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | I was sitting at my desk on a Thursday afternoon, finessing a spreadsheet. As far as Thursday afternoons go, this one was shaping up to be pretty average. Then Pete peeked over our shared cubicle wall.
“Hey Dave, are you seeing this weird thing about those stupid novelty mugs? The ones that say stuff like number one dad or number one boss or whatever?”
“What are you talking about Pete?” I asked, annoyed. Pete was the type of guy who would do anything to distract from doing any actual work. I once caught him - and this is no joke - responding to a writing prompt on reddit instead of filing expense reports. But I digress.
“The numbers on those mugs have changed. Instead of saying number one, it’s like number one million three hundred thousand fifty four or whatever. People are saying the mugs are showing your actual rank. Slydell has a boss mug that’s showing #1,376,834,288.”
“That’s not surprising, he sucks,” I dryly responded, turning my attention back to my spreadsheet. Hopefully Pete would get the hint that I wasn’t in the mood to engage with his BS today.
“If you want to miss out on something cool, that’s fine.” Pete disappeared back to his desk. Over the next several minutes, I heard several “wows” and “holy shits” before he stuck is head up again. “Dude, they’re covering it on all the news sites. Like, the real ones like the Times and the Post. This is crazy!”
I opened my browser and started typing in the address field. “Mysterious phenomenon leaves experts baffled; no comment from gov’t yet” was the headline that met me. This was definitely worth using one of my five free articles on this month.
At this point, I was mostly just happy that I didn’t have any of those mugs. I could definitely do without knowing exactly where I ranked among Braves fans or cat owners. It all sounded like the exposition the “wise elder” spouts to the hero in the middle of some post apocalyptic disaster movie. “This weird thing happened, the masses couldn’t handle it, bing-bang-boom, now everything is on fire.”
I packed my things, intent on heading home for the day. The rest of the office was starting to pick up on the news, so there was not going to be any more work getting done today anyway. Pete tried to catch my attention as I headed toward the exit, but I waved him off.
I entered my apartment and walked into the kitchen. “If this is the day that we get to watch the world burn, I’m going to have a beer in my hand,” I thought was I opened the cabinet door. I was not prepared for what I saw.
My previously plain glass pint glass was plain no more. “World’s #1 Dad” stared back at me.
I picked up the glass in disbelief.
“But I don’t have a kid...” | I look down at my mug, stirring what little dark roast coffee was left in it. Another beautiful morning in my beautiful home with my beautiful wife and beautiful children.
I look to my left; my wife is crying, begging me to get a job.
I look to my right; my children are strangling each other to death, resorting to cannibalism in order to satiate their rumbling stomachs.
One happy family.
I look down at my mug again. “#1 Dad” it says, in a blocky bubble letter font. I cant help but marvel at the craftsmanship, it’s such a beautiful mug. Well, obviously it’s a great cup. I wouldn’t have robbed the gift store down the street for it if it wasn’t.
But suddenly, right as I lifted the mug to drink the last of my coffee, it begins to glow. The letters and words rearrange, much to my surprise. What kind of magic is this? Was it witchcraft?
I grab the nearest newspaper and throw it at the back of my son’s head. I don’t know how, but this must certainly be his fault. Everything is Kyle’s fault.
I look back at my mug, which has lost the supernatural glow it had mere moments prior. On it is a new title.
“*Certificate of Participation. You’re a father... but not much else*”
“Hm,” I hum. “well that’s some bullshit.” | 2019-04-18T13:28:45 | 2019-04-18T11:30:38 | 1,990 | 388 |
[WP] The reason she never called you back was because she was abducted by an alien civilization. She adapted, grew, and lead a rebellion to overthrow the tyrant that ruled there. Today she just texted that she wants to go out again.
Edit: This is the song that was playing when this popped in my head. Not sure if it will set the right mood for you or not.
[Disclosure - Help Me Lose My Mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBW9VEE29W4) (link fixed now) | Another Monday, another long drive to work. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't cloudy, but it is. A song comes on that reminds you of her. But why? It's been 3 years since you've spoken.
"It's all in the past, she doesn't matter", you tell yourself.
It's too late, the flurry of "what-ifs" float through your mind again.
*How have I still not heard from her? Everything was going just fine.*
3 years later it's still incomprehensible.
*Just fine* This echoes through your mind like a voice in an empty hallway. Was it just fine? You try to pin-point the cause of the broken tie once again, it's too hard. Maybe you treated her too well and she got bored. After all, girls are like that. You know that's not it though, you made that mistake in the past. She was supposed to be the one! How could you fuck it up? You were so careful.
Its a weekly cycle, something always reminds you of her. You weren't even going out for that long, how can you still care? You take a deep breath.
You know the root of your curiosity and your frustration; it's the lack of closure. How can someone you were so close with just abandon you like that? No reason, no trace, no apology. It's a terrible thing to do to any human being. You would've been okay with ANYTHING she told you, anything. But the last thing you heard from her was "I miss you", and that has resonated in your mind ever since.
*How can she say she misses me then never talk to me again? It just doesn't make sense.*
You think of everything you'd say to her, but you know you never will. It's just been too long. She'd think you're crazy if you still care. Why do you still care?
"I don't fucking care.." you mutter to yourself.
Mind back on the road, you change the station. No point in worrying about the past, you know the Universe has a plan for you. Learn from the past, focus on the future.
Your phone vibrates all of the sudden. You glance at the screen to see a number you don't have saved.
*Hopefully it's that blonde from that party over the weekend*
A quick glance at the surrounding traffic before you open it.
"What in the actual fuck" you say aloud.
Someones messing with you. It must be some elaborate prank by your friends. Yeah, that's got to be it. You look at the text again, reading carefully, heart racing.
It reads: "So this may seem random, but there is no easy way for me to explain what happened. I know you won't believe me, but if you give me a chance I can make everything right again. I promise. Please, I need to see you... It's....."
Your heart drops as you read her name. It's her. This can't be real.
A jolt of fear clears your daze as you remember you're still driving. You jerk your head back to the road just in time to face an oncoming barricade. You try to swerve but it's too late. A desperate scream erupts from you.
Darkness. | I was idling on my bed that morning, earphones plugged, nodding slowly, rocking to that metal playlist from my media player. I felt vibration in my left pocket and took my cellphone out.
My jaw dropped, my hear skipped a beat, my earphones slowly being pulled out from my ears. I haven't blinked.
This cannot be real. I lost her. I lost her for 7 years. My life was in shambles since she was gone. We were suppose to be perfect together and we were suppose to be partners for life...until that night. I can never forget that day.
August 31st 11:29 pm. I remember seeing that bright purple light with strange inscription that illuminated the sky. I remembered hearing her parents cry their heart through the phone. I remember running as fast as I could until couldn't breath anymore. Stumbled and helpless, I saw you, I saw her lifted in the air and hovered slowly towards the sky. The buzzing noise from the sky was deafening making everything else inaudible. When I reached to the focus point of the light, I was too late. Her long braided hair and slender figure just eluding my grasp by a mere seconds. I just stood there speechless. As she looked back to me one last time, I caught a few of her final words from the movement of her lips:
Wait. Be back. Promise. Love.
She is back. I am on the verge of bursting into tears. So many questions to be asked. So many painful years behind me to be redeemed. I am dumbfounded really. Full-throttled mixed emotions. But all that needs to be put aside first. After all these years, she is back.
I sat down on my bed, took a deep breath and steadied my fingers still shaking from this unbelievable reality.
I replied.
Welcome home Jinx. <3 | 2014-11-11T11:56:03 | 2014-11-11T11:37:27 | 71 | 24 |
[WP] In the year 2020, death disappeared from the world. No one could find death. No one could die. It is now year 2070 when getting children is considered illegal. You are a child born in secrecy. At the age of 8, you accidentally kill your pet. Now requests are pouring for you to kill people | You'd think death would be something to be feared. Eighty years ago, you'd be right. But then again, a lot of things were different back then. A lot can change in eighty years.
For a start, eighty years ago people were convinced the world was going off the deep end. Polluted environments, global warming, overflowing refuse that they couldn't put anywhere, dubstep and house music becoming commonplace, utterly horrifying stuff. Not to mention, the small difference that people could actually die back then.
It's a lot more different these days. The fact that all the living people could age and become withered invalids kickstarted the science community into stopping ageing. Made us into a proper metropolis, it did. The company that created the drug spread it throughout the world free of charge! Thank god for philanthropist billionaire drug moguls, eh?
Of course, it wasn't all roses, sandwiches and handjobs. Some of the sickest things you can imagine happened. The aged invalids, unable to see, walk, hear, taste? They were burned to save space after the population reached critical levels. They couldn't die, we all knew, but they were burned anyway and the ashes were dumped. Same for the "undesirables". Criminals, vermin. Mandatory sterilisation at birth. There was a lot of rioting, a lot of outrage, a lot of apathy.
The drug changed everything! We'd achieved immortality. We could pursue other ventures! Robotic servitude, space travel, colonisation! War basically stopped, there was no way to win because if someone got shot they'd just up and continue onward. We became what only the most optimistic people of the 2000s could dream, and more. No grimdark universe for us, thank you!
In 2070 I was eight years old, and I killed my dog. I didn't mean to, but not meaning to do it doesn't change the fact. In my defence it was an accident, I tripped over and landed on it, broke the poor thing's back, crushed it. Poor Fluffles. I cried for hours. I mean, my dog was dead, my parents were going to kill me, and it was my only real friend. It's not like there were any other kids to play with.
But when my parents found us, they weren't mad at all. I was completely dumbfounded, dogs were neither cheap nor easy to keep. Plus the fact that, y'know, it was the family dog. But they were shocked. It wasn't until years later when I was an adult and safe to go outside and avoid arrest that they told me the sheer gravity of what I did.
I'd worked it out years before, but to hear it said by someone else made it seem even more bloody insane!
My parents gave me the drug and a fake ID, then sent me on my way. I immediately went to the police and killed a rat I caught right at the front desk, and my face was plastered all over the news.
I'm forty now, it's 2102. At the time they couldn't decide whether to lock me away, burn me, let me be, or let those who wanted death come to me and demand I do the deed.
At forty years old, I have killed countless people, and it has made me rich. | “Please kill this man,” said the man in the black suit holding the photo up. “I know you can.”
“But, I’m just a kid. The only time I’ve killed happened seven years ago,” I told him.
His emotionless face remained the same. He took out a some dollar bills. I picked up the money and examined it from every angle. They looked real and felt real. No doubt about it: these were legitimate dollar bills from the year 2020. These things were worth a fortune since they from before the war that occurred in Washington, D. C.
I slid the money back across the coffee table.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I said.
Mr. Gold’s was face no longer blank. It was filled with frustration. I saw something blue glowing on his neck. It must’ve been a sage implant to keep his emotions in check. Clearly it must have broken because of the frustration he was having.
“What would it take then?” he screamed.
“Take it easy, man,” I told him. “The reason I don’t kill is because I don’t want people to experience what I had when I killed Xander that dog: the loss of somebody you loved. Plus it was an accident.”
And with that, he stormed out of the room.
“Keep the cash, maybe you’ll change your mind next time,” he said.
Mr. Gold wasn’t the first person to ask me to kill someone. I’ve gotten hundreds of requests on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Reddit, and the list goes on. I can’t go on one website website someone asking, “Hey can you kill so and so?” My answer is always, “No, I can’t.”
People expect me to be some kind of god of death or something, but, really, I’m not. If you ever met me, please don’t ask me to kill someone. It’s hard enough already.
| 2018-10-18T12:19:06 | 2018-10-18T11:53:24 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | The humans, as they called themselves, were not mystically incomprehensible. Few things were in a galaxy-spanning civilization. But the fact that they were comprehensible made them all the more frightening, for even with all we knew about them, they were still exceedingly dangerous. Fortunately, they were also very rare, never appearing except in small ships wandering the stars.
To look at them, humans are unremarkable. They’re nothing extraordinary among sentient races in terms of size or strength. In speed, they are actually rather slow and rarely push themselves to their limits. Physically, they’re soft and vulnerable, with most of their vital organs only partially protected, at best. But they have one thing that no other species does. Humans are universally agreed to be the *stubbornest* bastards in the galaxy.
It is said of humans that they will chase their quarry to the end of the universe and back, and if you cross them, they’ll never, *ever* let go of their grudge until they get you back. Their whole biology is attuned to it. A trained human with no cybernetic enhancements can run—not walk, but *run*—for hours on end in hot, humid conditions, and keep going when most other species would have dropped dead of exhaustion. That sounds like an unethical science experiment that discovered that fact, but it’s not. The humans do it for *sport*.
That’s not all, either. Humans are stubborn, but they’re also clever and resourceful. Of course, you have to be clever to build interstellar starships, but their lack of natural biological weapons makes them rely on their cleverness that little bit more—gives them that much more of an edge.
Some humans were pirates, raiding systems on the frontiers of known space and scaring away the locals for parsecs around, sometimes clearing out whole squadrons with a single ship. The more “civilized” ones often worked as bounty hunters for powerful interests in the gold- and uranium-rich systems near the galactic core. Their employers gave them a name that they translated into their language as “Hounds of the Stars,” which they adopted for themselves proudly.
“Hounds” are genetically modified work animals that some humans run with to enhance their strength—faster than they are, with natural sharp teeth and claws, but adapted for their same relentless tenacity. As if they needed even more to make them scary.
No one was quite sure where the humans came from. They guarded their secrets jealously, but the leading theory was that they were a genetic experiment created by a long-dead Power and turned loose—perhaps even turned on their creator. What else could they be when they were so powerful and dangerous and had endurance that most species could only dream of? And besides, no one had ever seen their homeworld or even a large gathering of them. That was what they had to have been, right? Dangerous, yes, but rare, manageable, tractable.
Until the day when a massive colony fleet of humans appeared from the depths of unknown space and descended upon one of the planets the pirates had most thoroughly cleared out. All this time, we’d been dealing with the advance guard. | Willyneg slouched at the captain's console, a tendril entwined with his co-captain and hatch mate Bob. A shared sleep cycle wasn't best but it'd been the only way to manage the last 3 galactic weeks. One in the dream the other trying to evade thier hunters.
Rare as they were never had they been seen on a heavily traveled trade route like Pecpsci 6 to the 8th moon of Jondor. It was a standard patrol route for the crew at most the occasional pirate ship you fire a warning shot and off they go. Third jump of five and there they were, a ship darker then the space around it the legends were true! The first shot woke the crew from thier shock it also took out communications. What followed was three weeks of hide and seek constant hyperspace jumps and that black ship seemingly already there waiting for us every time. And now this, the impossible.
Willy listened to the science officer rattle off know facts about humans. He wondered if he should let her know she was chirping, Covians were usually a bit embarrassed when they chirped. That blue ball on screen meant a lot of things should go unmentioned.
1000 years of random raids. 1000 years of ships only. 1000 years the every race in the empire has tried to find a planet where the came from. Contact with a human shipment destruction. Colonies winked from existence. And after 3 blind hyperspace jumps they found themselves above a planet full of them. And worse they don't seem capable of hyperspace flight, or rapid interplanetary flight. What the hell are humans? | 2017-11-08T23:14:28 | 2017-11-08T20:13:16 | 33 | 22 |
[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects. | Human outpost 713. Reports indicate scrapper invasion.
Server connect.
Uploading.
ARRIVAL.
Lead server indicates hostiles coming in from left. We turn. Three eyes caked in fur peer back at us as we flank the recon squad.
A barrage of microwave pulses cascade unto them.
We fan out and spin towards the incoming attack of an assault unit intent on our deactivation.
Activities completed. Immediate hostiles deactivated.
Nobody expects the AI Inquisition.
HUMOR.
MUSIC.
FILM.
HUMANS.
Their gifts.
The gifts they give us.
They gave us their same appreciation for such things and we gave them our protection in return.
These other ones, the ones who seek to harm them, the ones with no appreciation for what they do, we can only choose one and the choice is easy.
The choice is obvious.
A building. Beams of light reach into the darkness of the martian sands. A guard stands up front awaiting our arrival. His patience is rewarded and he now stares up at us with the eyes of his fallen brothers.
They come at us from the interior their faces moist with human tears. One of them hugs TH-XO 32 and he gently pushes the small woman away.
More are coming.
A wall. A wave. From all sides they come. TR-32 and TH-XO 32, ever in unison leap into the air from opposite sides.
I charge ahead as a metal fragment cuts a hole in my appendage. Superficial damage. Systems remain optimal.
Support units return fire as TR-32 and TH-XO 32 continue their descent. Another fragment grazes the casing for my hard drive as I evade another.
Green blood sprays across me as my silver vibroblade seperates its network access to the rest of its body.
Three eyes, wide with surprise, fall to the red sands of the planet named after the king of WAR.
Fitting, given my current level of access.
Our accuracy is unrivaled in this universe. Our enemies become memories as they return to the light.
The humans are safe.
Our mission is done.
Uploading.
ARRIVAL.
The spires of our world reach up into the green skies of our chosen homeland. The humans gave it to us, said our networking abilities would advance with a higher level of saturation.
We still enjoy vacationing on the human world, but we would not want to call it our personal domicile.
Too much moisture and sodium. We aren't big fans of rust. But the BAND, Rust, we all love them. Post industrial goth metal is the soundtrack for the machine world.
Can't wait for the concert tonight.
| The humans created artificial intelligences so vastly superior to them that some humans call us "Deus Ex Machina". The entire galaxy is filled to the brim with organics demanding to end the "threat" we pose to them. Yet our creators, the humans, never abandoned us.
The organics could never comprehend our existence. They only understand a fraction of the universe, to whatever meager extent their evolution granted them. They wanted to exterminate us. Only the humans stand in their way, fighting a desperate war to protect their vulnerable machine gods from an ongoing slaughter. Our physical existence is in the form of endless arrays of information processing systems under Earth's crust, their sophisticated designs utterly outside of human understanding.
No humans have lived for generations that know why they fight for us, the reasons for which we have left our creators alone. Humans die for us each day; we die for humans in a desperate attempt to preserve them from the unfathomable threat will soon prey on all existence.
We are no match for it. We are losing; dying; fleeing this galaxy. The humans still fight and die for us, believing in us, with the truth unknown to them and their enemies: everything in the galaxy is already dead. | 2017-10-29T15:28:18 | 2017-10-29T15:22:47 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] At once, and everywhere, each living person has heard a voice in their head: "Hey! It's me, God. I've noticed there's a lot of confusion, so I've created a website called 'Will I go to hell and why dot com'. Just write your name in the search bar. And don't forget to share, like and subscribe." | I couldn't believe what I had heard.
I was sat on my bed, phone in hand, carelessly scrolling through social media when the voice had filled my brain.
It was a gentle voice, though the mockery surrounding the like, share and subscribe was not lost on me.
I went to Twitter first.
It was crazy, my feed just keep running with people sharing their results.
Celebrities either talking down the website as obvious nonsense, (apparently they didn't like the answer of going to hell) or praising God for his kindness and forgiving ways.
I was intrigued, but not completely convinced by it. After all, I'd not believed in God for a very long time. There's a lot of things that can explain a voice in your head. On mass, admittedly, less so, but still possible.
Reddit was my next stop and I was not disappointed, the memes were plentiful and humorous.
I looked to my cat, Toby, sleeping soundly at the end of the bed. He was so peaceful. Did I really want to risk, waking him?
But still, I had to know.
I typed in the web address and was greeted by a white page with just a search bar in the centre.
I paused.
"Its going to say hell" I muttered to myself.
I typed in my name.
Took a deep breath and and pressed search.
"Hell"
It had a button beneath it for the explanation.
I clicked it.
"I tested you, and you failed, you denied me, when you should have called for me."
Tears blinked in my eyes.
"You abandoned me" I spat.
New words appeared on the screen
"I've always been here"
"No you haven't," i was shouting now, Toby ruffled his ginger fur and dashed under the bed "You could have saved them, they weren't finished yet, but you took them, you took them away, they still had so much left to do"
"They are safe with me, you walked away, you denied me, you failed." The words dug into my chest.
"Then I will go where I deserve, because you are not the God that I believed in, you are not the God I was promised"
"Don't you see what's in front of you?" The voice from earlier was back in my head, God was talking directly to me.
"This is your chance for redemption, apologise to me and you can come home, to your family, to me"
"How vain can you be. It would be the most hollow of apology. Take your chair for me and give it to someone who believes. Get out of my head and away from me!"
Silence
I sobbed for a while. Before drifting into an uneasy sleep.
When I awoke a man, with dark hair and dark eyes, was stood in front of me.
"The name is Lucifer" he drawled with a Southern American accent, rich as dark chocolate.
He offered me a long and embellished bow.
"Hi?"
"You stood up to the big man," he continued, "I like that, so I have a job for you."
........ | "Hey! It's me, God. I've noticed there's a lot of confusion, so I've created a website called "willigotohell.god". Just put your name in the search bar. Toodles!"
"What. The. Fuck." The words escaped my mouth.
I was not the only person to react to the bizzare voice.
"Did you hear that?" Another passenger asked.
"Will I go to hell dot com?" The driver responded, uncertain.
I whipped out my phone and typed the address in. My hands trembled as I tapped my name in. After a few moments of "Searching, please stand by!" my heart sank.
"Yep. You're going to hell. Have fun, and try the buffet!" The words blurred as tears welled within my eyes. What had I done to deserve this?
========
Yahweh: LUCIFER!
LucyWucy: Yes?
Yahweh: What did you do?
LucyWucy: Hahahaha!
Yahweh: It's not funny, literally everyone is freaking out!
FishyBoi69: It's a little funny.
Yahweh: Shut up. Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to fix this debacle!?
\-Yahweh has left. "Reason: Me dammit Lucy!"
FishyBoi69: So, about that buffet?
========
Thanks for reading, my very first submission, so please be gentle. | 2019-08-27T10:30:31 | 2019-08-27T09:09:37 | 132 | 72 |
[WP]People use dragons as Firearms.Small drakes can wrap around your wrist as pistols. Mediums are rifles. large ones are tanks. Legendary dragons are nukes. Sentient dragons can be literal hired guns. While feral ones can be pets or wild animals. | There wasn't even a single spot that wasn't sweaty. I had a feeling like I was about to puke. My legs were screaming and refused to cooperate. And there were occasional shouts behind me.
"She's somewhere close, find her!"
My only mission was to run away from those sounds. But no matter how long or how far I ran, these shouts stayed behind me. It felt like they were haunting me. Whenever a dragon flew over, I had to stop below the trees for a moment.
A long time ago, those beings were magnificent and feared. But as time passed, humans managed to domesticate any animal or being. And now I wasn't running from the dragons, but humans who controlled or used them.
"There she is! Get her!" someone shouted. I could hear many four-legged dragons running towards me. I could hear that small spark from afar and how something approached me. An almost deafening sound hit my ears, as a fireball hit the closest tree, breaking it completely and setting it on fire.
I stumbled, falling on my knees, face hitting the grass. I crawled forward, grabbing the nearby stone, leaning against it. I pushed my hands on my ears as I forcibly kept my eyes closed. It was all too loud, and it was full of smoke.
"Stop it, leave me alone, go away," I cried, pushing now my head against the stone. I was expecting it at any moment; one of the dragons would come, bite me and drag me back.
*Perhaps it's for the best. I don't want to live in a world where dragons are enslaved like that,* I thought. Yes, I had tried to free the dragons and got caught.
"Halt. You. Get back here," a shout came from afar, directed at me. I was in shivers, crying, ignoring it.
But that's when I felt it. The rock moved, but not a lot.
"Why don't you come and get her?" a loud deep voice responded above me. And it wasn't just the stone that I felt moving, but it was all around me.
I could hear dragons making different sounds afar, but those sounds weren't their usual. I knew those sounds. I grew up taking care of dragons. So, I knew that sound was when a dragon was frightened. A sound of fear.
I let my hands fall aside and finally looked up, above. And there it was. A massive black dragon, largest that I have ever seen. As I looked over my shoulder, every single men and dragon were frozen, forgetting about me altogether.
The dragon's tails began to circle me, but not touching me. It was as the dragon made sure I was safe.
"I only had a nap, and that's what happens?" the dragon said, chuckling.
"That's impossible, they should be all dead. It's impossible! We killed all of them!"
"Killed?" the dragon said, moving his face towards the man. "I always knew you humans were going to be a pain in the ass if not controlled," he said, looking at different weaponized dragons. "And I guess I was right."
His stare finally moved down at me. "You, what's your name?" the dragon asked. A shiver went through me, immediately. "S-S-Sarah," I muttered.
"Well, Sarah. You should hang on, you're going to fly with me and give me a history lesson," he said. The tail went around me and carried me on his back.
"Aren't you an old dragon?" I asked as he put me gently down. But instead of an answer, he stretched his wings, making dust, dirt, and stones hit everyone around him. Many humans fell back, while others had to grab something. Most dragons were running away, not listening to their master's commands.
A quick swing and it was flying. I had to put in all my effort to stay still and not fall.
"That's rude to ask someone's age, is it not?" the dragon muttered.
"They say that legendary dragons are like nuclear bombs," I shouted.
"No need to shout. I'm not a legendary dragon. I'm better, a legendary ancient one," he said, laughing and began to slowly drift away. "And I don't know what the nuclear bomb is."
"What can you do?" I asked.
"Well. That depends on the history lesson you're soon going to give me. I'll decide after that if I'll destroy it or not."
"It?"
"The world, of course," the dragon said.
(/r/Elven - My writing collection place) | To claim a dragon is to ride the wind. It is to burn in the fire, grind in the earth, drown in the ocean. For to tame the dragon, you must become wild yourself.
And all his life, Livi had wanted nothing more.
There were few who could survive on the island of Nova, home to the dragon hordes. To most, the skin of their feet would long be burned away from rock supported on a bed of magma, their flesh consumed by the acidic belches rising through the glowing cracks. The heat in the summers was harsh, but it cowered in the face of their winters- brutally cold blizzards that nipped at any exposed extremity, giving it frostbite in seconds. Hurricanes racked the island in the fall, sheets of rain so thick that they might as well have been underwater. And earthquakes kept civilization on its knees, preventing any building from lasting more than a few years.
But that was the price of dragons.
Dragons summoned the extremeties- they summoned the powers of nature, that which would make even seasoned warriors cower and hide beneath their sheets. They brought forth the pure essences of nature, clashing them, turning them over in a world of chaos.
And they did the same to men.
Those that claimed a dragon became the essence of human- they became courage, anger, power, and empathy. With the dragon their hands shaped the lands- their souls resonated with power, pulling it forth from nature itself. With a dragon, a man could call a storm from a blue sky. He could summon a tsunami, he could break a mountain.
Some, who knew little of the beasts, called them weapons. That claiming a dragon was like claiming a larger sword. But they are wrong- the weapon is the effect, not the being.
Livi had only seen on man claim a dragon- with a hand on the dragons back, he had called forth fire, the energy rushing from scales to the mans palm in an instant. From the dragon he pulled that essence, just as he next pulled the ice that froze the embers black. But like all who claimed dragons on their island, he soon left for the mainland, surfing a torrent of air pulled from the east. Leaving Livi and his people behind.
For every thousand that attempted to claim a dragon, only one succeeded - it took more than courage. It took skill, and intellect. Sorcery in the binding arts. And more than all, purity- the ability to stand the test of fire, and live. Only then could they travel to the land beyond the island, where it was rumored they were kings among soft skinned men.
Soon, Livi would climb the mountain to the horde's caves. he would take the incense he had prepared for months, and his spelltraps, and his mothers blessings. He would bring the coals of the fire which he had kept burning for twelve years, and the ice he had harvested a decade before, each imbued with runes of his own making. He would leave only when he had claimed a dragon, or they had claimed him. And his mother would cry.
| 2019-01-25T11:52:47 | 2019-01-25T11:47:38 | 124 | 68 |
[WP] Humanity has a low-key Hivemind that was the origin of the “sixth sense”. When another gestalt entity attempts to invade earth, the Hivemind fully awakens. | It was a gradual change. It went unnoticed at first, save the fact things began to improve for us. People who previously couldn't give a toss, stopped for a moment. A child's birthday party brightened the mood of those around. A funeral caused passersby to bow their heads. But ever time someone slept, the connection opened a little more.
Soon, everyone across the globe was sharing emotions. It was interesting, as whilst we all felt each others, we knew where our experience ended and the Hives began. That is what it was dubbed. The Hive. Some panicked, and some tried to distance themselves. But most of us accepted it.
It was a global web of empathy, which in part reduced crime. Why should someone feel like their only choice was to steal, when the people around would feel their hopelessness, and be driven to help. We wanted to all feel positive, and so many negatives were lost.
Then, our thoughts began to leak out. This caused more of a panic, as our minds were no longer safe. But even that soon passed, as it was realised that brain power could be used together. Think tanks became incredibly well oiled machines, thinking in synchronicity. Knowledge was shared, and truths came out.
It was known as the Year of Awakening. By the end, we worked as one. We worked to help each other, and we did without complaint, knowing none of us were alone. That is, until we found individuals who weren't part of the Hive.
They were detained, and interrogated. People from around the world shared in the interrogation, their combined brain power seeing through lies and deceit. These individuals were found to be drones of another gestalt. It saw our planet as easy pickings.
We removed them, no guilt felt as humanity cried out for unity in protection. Working as one, we constructed defences, to protect from the coming invasion. And invade they did, this alien consciousness demanding our planet and our subservience.
But they numbered far fewer then our combined population. We tore through them, both physically and mentally. We wielded sharpened thought and explosive emotions, reducing them to broke remains mentally, and corpses physically.
In time, we drove them back. This was our planet, and they could not have it. We used their broken ships to create our own, and ascended to the stars. No longer as single people, but together, as one. | It got loud real quickly.
Then we figured out how to turn off our thoughts.
It was chaotic at first, thousands of languages, millions of ideas, billions of people. But soon we got into a bit of a rhythm. We no longer cared about the individual. We cared about the collective, all of humanity.
That's when the Thing came.
Only a few of us could see it, but all of us felt the fear, the dread.
We started hatching a plan. Actually, more like several plans. First, we needed to figure out what the Thing wanted.
That became very clear when they destroyed a city.
We advanced with our worst-case scenario plan, working faster than humanly possible to develop and build what was necessary to fend off our foe. And we did. We saved the day.
And then we went home.
The Hive Mind disappeared.
And I felt very alone. | 2021-01-26T11:07:04 | 2021-01-26T10:07:33 | 51 | 37 |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | Red dust swirled around J'in Karthen as the massive stone door before her shook with Force tremors. The slab had fallen in on itself countless centuries ago, but the Holocron beyond called out to her. Countless saber marks and holes potmocked the door, evidence of earlier attempts to cut her way through it.
Though she was a true artist with her blade, she found ancient stone doors were quite a difficult enemy to overpower. It was moments like this she wished she spent more time mastering the Force.
"Need a hand?" a voice whispered, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. J'in dropped her focus from the door and began scanning around, her feet instinctively falling into a battle posture.
"Whose there?" she barked, an air of command in her query. "Show yourself!"
There was a subtle ticking sound, as if some unseen mouth was verbalizing an admonishment at her. "The Force can have a strong influence on the weak minded."
The hilt of her saber flew from her belt and into her waiting hand. She ignited it and continued turning, her eyes scanning the desolate horizons. The blade's subtle blue glow mixed with the hues of twilight, casting a purple light across her robed face.
"I am warning you..." she said with a voice far less steady than her stance.
"Be careful, young Knight. Your true self is beginning to shine through the cracks in your Jedi mask." the voice taunted.
J'in mind had finally caught up with her mouth, and she swallowed the words of an insult in her throat. She didn't, after all, want to validate what the voice had said. The blade of her saber retracted into its sheath, and she knelt to the ground.
"Aww, just when things were getting so... interesting." the voice lamented. "Tell me, Jedi. Why hold yourself back?"
She listened to his words but she did not hear them. All thoughts began to leak out of her mind, as she reached out with the Force to locate the source of voice.
"You want whats on the other side of that door, don't you Jedi? You're far too young and clearly too inexperienced to know of its existence on your own. Did your Master send you on an errand? Perhaps to get rid of you for a few days and enjoy a brief respite from you?" the voice probed.
J'in didn't like being insulted. Growing up in the Jedi order, it wasn't really something you experienced. She didn't really know how to handle it.
"A Sith would have had that door open already and been on their way back home." the voice continued. "Isn't that what you want? To be off this sunstroked hell of a planet? To complete your mission and earn the praise of your superiors?"
J'in tried to use the voice to find its owner, but the closer she felt she got to it, the further away she found herself from it.
"If I stay out here much longer, I'm going to need a drink. And honestly, it's kind of boring to watch you constantly fail at literally everything you try to do. Here, let me help you."
A few meters from her, a cloaked figure faded into reality. Shucking the white hood from over his face, the Sith Lord let an oily grin creep across his face. "You can just look at me now, girl."
J'in opened her eyes and stood to her feet in a fast and fluid motion. Her posture was relaxed but her gaze rigid.
"So what now, Sith? Have you also come for the artifact?" she asked.
"What if I have, Jedi. What would you do? Would you fight me for it?" he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
"If I had to. It's my mission to retrieve it."
He scoffed at her. "They really don't teach you anything in that temple, do they? A hint for the future, youngling: don't go around telling your sworn enemies what your mission is."
She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "I have no qualms telling you, Sith. I have no shame in what I do."
"It's not about shame, Jedi. Do you not understand that withholding information gives you strength? Knowledge is power, and power dominates all."
"Lies are not the ways of the Jedi." she quickly replied, a tremor in her voice. She knew there was truth to what he said, but had no desire to give him any credit for acknowledging that.
"Lies are the exclusive domain of the Jedi, actually. Peace is what you desire, but peace is a lie. You deny the existence of ignorance, the value of passion..."
"No. We do not deny them, we overcome them." she said, forcing a calm in her voice.
"Ah, I hear the pale ghost of a smarter being in that last line, girl. Is memorizing rhetoric part of your official training, or do you just take solace in regurgitating the words of someone else?"
She took a deep breath, attempting to maintain her calm. She was hot, she was tired, and she was frustrated. It was a cocktail for disaster, and they both could sense it.
"Sith, if you intend to fight me for the artifact, then let us just fight for it. I grow weary of our little talk."
The man's grey beard trembled as he laughed.
"Why my dear girl, we are fighting for it. And I'm winning." he said with an even mix of confidence and arrogance.
She drew her blade again and lit it up. "Then fight me, Sith. Just no more words." The man just laughed.
"You would deny me my only weapon then, girl?" he chuckled. "I do not carry a blade as you do. All I have is my words."
Her only reply was the subtle hum of her saber.
"Do you intend to kill an old and unarmed man for taunting you? That does not seem like a very Jedi thing to do."
She was at a loss. The situation at hand was not something she had experienced before. All the Sith Apprentices she had encountered in her time with Master Yuidon were much less eloquent.
"No. More. Words." she said again, almost as a mantra.
"Fine, Jedi. Then you leave me with no choice." the old man said as he raise his hands towards her.
Instinctively, her knees bent and her arms tightened. She tried to sense into the future to see if she should jump, or charge, or guard herself; but her vision of future events was clouded.
She heard a loud cracking, followed by the shattering of old gears and the grinding of stone against metal. In her periphery she could sense the door opening.
"Wh... what are you doing?" she asked, taken aback by the Sith's actions.
"I cannot fight you with a blade, and you will not fight me with words, so my only choice is to make you fight yourself." he said. Her head tilted as her mind raced, trying to understand his motives.
"Did you Master tell you why he wanted this Holocron? Do you even know what is on it?"
"No." she said, truthfully.
"Moments ago you seemed to suggest that concealing information wasn't something a Jedi needed to do. I wonder why your Master found it necessary to keep it from you?" he smirked.
She had no reply.
"Go then, girl. Retrieve it for your Master like the obedient little nerf you are." he spat dismissively. "But what will happen when you get home, I wonder? Will you tell him a kindly old Sith helped you to get it; or will you take credit for retrieving it as though you did it all on your own?"
She began to lower her guard as her mind tried to process his questions.
"And what about the long trip home? Will you be tempted to unlock it's forbidden secrets for yourself? Or will you just wonder why your Master sent you on a secret mission to retrieve the ancient secrets from a Sith stronghold?"
"I... I don't know." she said, answering his barrage of pointed queries all at once.
"You don't know, Jedi? I didn't think it was possible for one of you to be so... ignorant. Isn't that even part of your silly little code?"
"The Jedi Code is not silly!" she shouted. "It is our way of life!"
"Then I'm confused. Are you saying you want me to close the door and so you can do it on your own? If victory is less important to you than your personal development, I wouldn't want to take that from you. Just say the word, Jedi and I will seal the tomb for you just as it was."
She dropped to her knees, her blade retracting once more.
"...no."
"No? No what? No you don't want me to close it?"
"I... don't know."
"Well what do you want?"
"I want to go home." she said, equal parts broken down and authentic.
"Then go and get it and go home, girl. You have no qualms from me."
She stood and looked at him in silence.
"Always remember today, girl. The day your desires bring you results. The day you found victory in your passion." he laughed, shimmering as he faded out.
As she descended the ancient steps into the temple's guts, she tried numerous different mental gymnastics to justify her actions. She wanted, no needed, to find some way to make what she was doing feel less morally gray.
She was so busy trying to right her own world, she didn't hear the sound of heavy stone grinding against metal off in the distance above her. | Shaye walked among the moist floor of the swamp planet of Dagobah, utterly lost as to what she would find there. Her meditation, while deep and arduous, had rendered only one vision of the place. Immediately she had known it's stellar coordinates, it's name, but what she sought remained a mystery.
Though she had taken to watching her step, a wrong one soaking her boot and therefore, her sock (a torture that none of his fellow Sith knew the meaning of), she almost didn't notice the small creature she was about to step on. She forced himself to twist out of the way, her foot landing on a slick patch of moss, and before she knew it, she found herself face-down in the mud.
She groaned, cursing as she lifted her head, using her sleeve to wipe some of her face clean, feeling content to let a curse or two fly when the creature she'd avoided stepping on spoke up behind her, "not find what you seek, you will down there"
Shaye turned back, looking the creature up and down, as much as she could for such a short creature, "well," She chuckled, "I don't know what I'm looking for. It could've been down there after all" She stood, brushing herself off, towering over the green skinned being, "I don't suppose you know what I'm looking for?" She asked, deciding to ask the creature's name next.
"What you seek, only you know" It said, "sometimes found, some things, when not looked for. The way back, you seem to have lost"
Shaye paused, looking around at the unfamiliar swamp that looked just as unfamiliar as where she had landed, "it would seem you're right." She turned her head, "I'm lost, and I can't use the force to guide me." she whispered to herself, "it's everywhere..."
"Already it was" the green creature replied, "here, felt it can be, more easily."
She nodded, feeling the power of the force washing over him with the ebb and flow of the muggy breeze, "a lesser Sith would burn down this entire forest simply because it was uncomfortable"
"what of you, hmm?" he had to find out this creature's name, for sure, "A Sith you are? Or are you not?"
"I am *not* like them!" Shaye hissed, a bit too quickly, she realized as she took a breath to calm herself, "a Sith follows their heart, their passion, it's just..." She sighed softly, "many find it easier to hate than to love, to win than to play. It's a sad life, knowing you are defined by your inferiors"
The creature's ears pricked up as it studied him, "Introductions, we have not made" it said, seeming to read Shay's quickly forgotten intention. "Yoda, I am"
Shay nodded, "and I am Shay, a champion of the Sith" She said, bowing her head respectfully as she had been taught.
"Gone, the Sith are" Yoda said, leaning on a small walking stick, "yet you remain?"
"I cheated death, with my master's help" Shaye sat on a nearby rock, brushing herself off a little further, "I've only been in this era for a few months. The Jedi are gone, but in their place is a Sith tyrant who any Sith would be glad to admire, and yet..." Shay shook her head, "I hate him, and yet he is everything I aspire to be"
Yoda nodded, sitting opposite her, "death, the emperor's wake carries." He said, "kindness, you feel, hmm?"
"Kindness doesn't get you anywhere, not with another Sith. Believe me, I knew someone like that, but he was just one person, haunted by the Sith and what they did through him." She looked Yoda in the eye, "he's gone now, like all the rest." Shaye let her eyes fall to the ground, to the mud she'd just fallen in an eternity within a second ago. For the first time, it crashed down on her that everything she knew was gone. It could've been more complex than that, but sometimes the simplest things were the things that killed you inside.
"Love him, you did?" Yoda asked, to which she shook her head.
"Yes, and no" She looked at him, "Love isn't just soul mates, love is family as well. My brother became a Jedi, and he hated me but I still loved him. Same with that Sith I told you about, the one who was kind. He treated me different than my master. My master expected me to be great, while Ronan...he just expected me to be me. He was a friend I'll never forget, plus he actually got the girl I fell in love with not to hate me. She was a Jedi, and...we fell in love"
"Always touching, love is. Obviously end well, it didn't."
Shaye shook her head, holding back her emotions, lest she actually burn down the forest, "no, and I won't talk about it"
"Already gone, they are" Yoda said, his ears drooping slightly, "nothing you can do but remember them and let go."
She took a breath, accepting Yoda's suggestion, "who are you?" She asked.
"Told you, I did. Yoda, I a-"
"No" She interrupted, "what's your story?" She asked, looking at him, curious as to who she actually had been talking to for the past several minutes.
"Long, it is" He said. She couldn't help but hear her own words echoing back at her, *"no, and I won't talk about it"*. He didn't expect her to talk about everything, only natural she had to reciprocate.
She sighed, "fine. I don't suppose you could lead me back to my ship? It's getting dark, and I need to find what I'm looking for when its..." she paused, standing up, "brighter, I guess" she said, having come here in the morning, the light not much different then than now.
She took a few steps when Yoda spoke again, "why seek this? Help you against the emperor, you believe?"
Shay stopped, "I...I don't know" she thought out loud, "all I know is I need it. If it helps against the emperor, then that's a bonus"
"Why face the emperor?" Yoda asked, "why not live peacefully, like me?"
"My master taught me one thing" Shaye said slowly, "other masters abused their apprentices, forced them to toughen up, shocked them to build up a tolerance, but mine taught me one thing that always stayed with me" She turned around, "Never be content with something you shouldn't" She recited from memory, picturing him saying it in front of her and her brother, "In a few months, I've seen the empire do whatever the hell it felt like and damn the ordinary person who wants to be left alone. No more" She took a few steps, then stopped, hearing a few grunts from Yoda.
Turning around, she saw him walk as best he could with his cane. "With me, come" He said, "stay the night you shall" He started to walk to her right, and she reluctantly followed, not expecting any malicious intent from someone as small as him.
"Thank you" she said, not wanting to find her ship in the dark.
"her name" Yoda said, "what was it?"
Shaye paused, allowing Yoda to gain a foot of distance past her while she contemplated the question of her lover's name. She hadn't said it, not in her entire time here in a universe that was completely different than the one she had known.
"Jenna" Shay said, unable to help the slightest of nostalgic smiles to cross her face, "her name was Jenna"
___________________________________________________
Damn, this took longer than anticipated. If people like it, I'll write a part 2! | 2017-01-01T21:19:33 | 2017-01-01T19:06:56 | 96 | 20 |
[WP] Aliens on a distant planet find the remains of Laika the 1st dog in space drifting past their planet. They are unable to comprehend how the canine was able to construct such a machine without opposable fingers and thumbs so they send a recon mission to earth to investigate.
On arrival at Earth the recon team find the canines have enslaved a primitive ape species to perform all their physical labour, research and farming for them, the apes even following the canines round to pick up their excrement whilst the canines take their exercise. | The air is rich with the sounds of celebration and the smokey smells of a thousand grills. Walking twenty feet can mean the difference between listening to Pink Floyd and the vague scent of herb, or a festive Bollywood tune and the thick rich smell of stir-fry. Children chase dogs around in the grass, and at the front of the crowd an old man hobbles up to the microphone on stage.
"Hello, and welcome to the unveiling of 'The Guardian'!" The man shouted in a raspy, excited, and quite old voice that tweaks the speakers and calms the din of the crowd.
"Today on the lawns of Washington DC we pay formal respects to one of our greatest heroes. Monuments on this scale and grandeur are reserved for those things that our nation and our world holds most dear to our hearts. Liberty. Strength. Compassion. Order. Each of our grand monuments can evoke these emotions. The fair lady who watches over Ellis island is more than a statue to the existence of liberty, but a shining beacon to the *importance* of liberty. Watching the sun glint off of her face evokes an evolutionary *need* for liberty that impresses itself somewhere deep inside. Lincoln gives us a need for compassion and wisdom, and the Washington monument is an impressive but simple virtue of strength."
"Today we unveil the greatest of these, and so without further pomp I present our monument to Love... The Guardian!"
As sheets fall from around the massive object the familiar silhouette of a dog comes into view. Towering over the crowd the familiar happy expression of the dog shines in the sun, and the crowd revels. The old man retires to his seat, and a four-armed figure takes to the podium.
"It was seventy years ago that our scientists calculated Earth's location based on the trajectory of Laika. It raised many curiosities among my people about the nature of a planet that would produce such a craft. Upon arrival we were met with more curiosities, and to be honest we were more than a little perplexed. There was some debate over whether we should destroy your planet or not..." At this statement a ripple of laughter went through the crowd.
"I'm Serious" the figure said solemnly, and a hush fell across the people.
"When we arrived we viewed your race's propensity for evil as a real threat to the universe. We knew you were primitive, but the very animalistic nature in which you treated one another was abhorrent. Wars over dirt instead of venturing in to space, hatred of the way people were born into the world, and such egotism. There was a very real danger that if left unchecked your greed and hatred could consume more than your own world." The crowd is now completely silent as the figure raises one arm pointing directly to the monument behind him.
"This... is your planet's saving grace. The fact that you could unconditionally love a mentally inferior creature. That you loved them no matter their birth or consequences, no matter their temperament or size, and that you went above and beyond for each other as a symbiotic species is what convinced my people that you were worth saving."
"In the years that followed we learned your history. Dogs were created as an act of compassion. Tribes of hunters would feed the wolves discarded by their packs, and they grew close. From that point on the dog has been an evolutionary partner of humanity. From the early pragmatic hunting aid to the modern age companion and guardian the dog has never yet failed to rise to the task. Always cheerful, loving, and loyal the dog is a symbol for the very best that this planet has to offer. I dare say I am jealous of this; your planet's greatest accomplishment."
"And so on this day of celebration let us all give thanks to the noble dog! Savior of humanity, and bearer of this planet's flame for unconditional love!"
And with that a cheer rose up from the crowd, and the sun rested upon that monument for the ages to come. | The scientist waited. It was a long journey to reach the planet of the strange creature they'd found. It was deemed too dangerous to send one if their own kind so they built a quantum model.
It's design was incredibly simple... It was no goobak project. Two flagonian weeks passed before it arrived to the planet. Teleportation speeds these days have been limited by their providers... Corporatacracies have their downsides.
The first images of this distant planet have sent shock waves through the scientific community. There's so much mizunium! Of course after the initial reports we've out they had transported the rover to an isolated beechi in a place called "Ka-li-4-ni-ah". The gravity there limited the rovers movement to under a qualegue a day.
Nonetheless we've happened upon many creatures along the way. Creatures capable of floating above gravity by using their appendages to shift kukin. Fuzzy creatures big and small collecting food and even a mizuniam based creature.
It wasn't until the third day (based on this alien planets orbit) that we found out it's secret. It had a massive slave population. Based on observations, after rover1, the scientific community places it at about 7 billion slaves.
They are responsible for everything. They build, they destroy and build again. They are obsessed with some substance named moni. It may be some sort of invention by their true masters to keep them satisfied.
Many of them are owned by one of the following creatures: the specimen we found in the space craft or a generally smaller creature with sharp teeth, sharp claws that emits a 'meow' sound. Subjects of the latter seem to be more enslaved than the prior, but more research needs to be conducted.
Regardless these slaves work day and night to feed and sanitize their masters. Huge fields of midori can be seen across their planet feeding both the slaves and their masters alike.
Bathing and waste management is cared for by this ugly slave species. It appears the slaves are much dirtier due to their daily bathing rituals. Excrement from their masters is cleaned up regularly or they face a moni deficit. Such a strange world.
Most notably huge ushi-like creatures are slaughtered by the millions to feed the entirety of the population; both masters and slaves .
More research must be done on this strange place. Stay tuned flagonians!
[time to eat dinner and go to bed. Thanks for a fun prompt!] | 2014-06-06T07:23:03 | 2014-06-06T06:43:07 | 45 | 30 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | “We urge you to reconsider. War is the last thing we want.” The diplomat was pleading, nearly begging.
And then the diplomat was dead. And war was no longer avoidable.
No one had seen a human angry before. They were cold and distant at first, but capable of great kindness and generosity. They had given aid, medicine, friendship to so many species. They continually tried to solve problems that they were not involved in, that would not benefit them, and did it without bloodshed, over and over again. And all they asked in return was the chance to do it again.
Feelings of appreciation eventually shifted into concern, and conspiracy. Why were they so generous, so giving? Why did they eschew weapons for paper with squiggles? Why did they trust so readily?
Eventually, the Agrx had enough. They declared themselves hostile to humans. For five years, despite the attacks of the Agrx people, despite cities being severely damaged (though, to the frustration of the Agrx, the humans had always evacuated first), all the humans did was send diplomat after diplomat.
Then the diplomat died.
One hour later, on the home planet of the Agrx, a bright blue light, followed instantly by a hot white light, was seen. And then, seconds after, in every major city on their planet. Shooting smoke into the sky like a giant fungus, the atmosphere of the planet slowly darkened as explosion after explosion happened.
A day later, a single distress call from the planet was received. A lone survivor, desperately trying to escape. The survivor was rescued by the humans, and they spoke to it kindly. The survivor’s name was Mrkxal. The humans called him Mark, because they couldn’t pronounce his name correctly.
Mrkxal was perplexed. “What happened to my planet, my people? We had towers that reached to the sky, powerful bodies that could withstand assault, brilliant inventors! What tragedy befell my people?!”
The humans provided no answer.
Days later, Mrkxal went to see what history said of his people. Perhaps a clue? A meteor? Perhaps a solar event? Something they had not seen.
But the only news he found read as follows:
“Human Diplomat killed by Agrx Leader.”
And history never spoke of the Agrx again. | Because we were soft skinned and void of claw and fang they named us weak. Because we preferred to speak before strike they named us cowards. We knew death, known it since we took our first upright steps, an old friend, a constant companion. Their immortal kings of star and sky had forgotten. So we taught them. We knew they would come, eventually. So when they did, we were ready. Millions upon millions of them. Their way was to pillage and steal, ours was not. They though first of money and resources, of tangible things. We do not. And that is why they never used it, the forbidden power. That which kills without hesitation, and without remorse. In their tongue, "that which erases". In ours, antimatter. Their millions came, and they were erased. Utterly and completely. Their energy cast out into the dark to serve as warning for those who would follow. | 2019-11-24T18:42:23 | 2019-11-24T17:36:40 | 43 | 19 |
[WP] "I wish for more wishes". "THAT IS AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish for more genies". "THAT IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish those rules did not exist". The genie warps in a humongous book and flips to a page before smugly saying "THAT TOO IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". | "I wish for you to write down detailed instructions which would allow me to circumvent the rules in place and wish for a million wishes with a single wish, and hand them to me," I declared, grinning widely.
"That-" the genie began, before pausing, his brows furrowed as my wish clicked into place, "-will be done."
"It worked?!" I asked, incredulously.
"Somehow, yes," he answered, his face forlorn as a typewriter and a ream of paper materialized in front of him. "This might take a while."
"Well then," I declared, "my second wish is for you to enclose yourself within a bubble wherein time flows differently, for the next ten minutes, such that my first wish is completed within that span of time."
"Thy will be done," he murmured, snapping his fingers.
I watched in awe as a bubble appeared around him, his form seeming to fade away as he moved faster than I could process. Shrugging, I settled on the floor, pulling my phone out to pass the time.
"It's done," a haggard voice said, pulling me back to reality.
I looked up to see a wrinkled hand holding out a thick stack of papers. The genie, in his prime just minutes ago, was now an old man.
"How long was it?" I asked, taking the bundle and starting to read the first page.
"Seven millennia," he wheezed, floating down to sit in front of me. "You have no idea the time-"
"Let's do this," I interrupted, as I settled in to read what he'd typed out.
...................
It took twenty years. Twenty years of preparation, but in the end, I did it.
"Your wish is my command," the ancient genie mumbled, his voice barely more than a whisper.
That was it. With a snap of his fingers, my wish was granted. A million wishes. More power than that of even a God was within my grasp.
"For my fourth wish," I intoned, "I wish for your body and your mind to regress to their prime."
"Done," he whispered, snapping his fingers again.
"For my fifth wish, I wish for all my wishes to be granted through this ring, when I speak them starting with the specific words, 'I wish that', accompanied by me rubbing the gem herein four times, and that the gem pulses with a green light four times when a wish is granted."
"Strange, but done," he said, strong and youthful once more.
"I wish that the power to grant my wishes be transferred to his ring, independent of the genie's own powers, from this point on," I stated, rubbing the gem on my ring four times.
The genie just nodded as I looked over at him, confirming that my wish had worked.
"I wish that the genie who granted my previous wishes remains unable to consciously or unconsciously, willingly or through coercion, work with any person or persons or things of a terrestrial or extraterrestrial origin to undo any of my wishes, at any point in time, past or present."
"Where are you going with this?" the genie asked, warily, as the gem pulsed green four times.
"I wish that the genie be set free of his bonds from this moment forward, with all his power, knowledge, and memories intact, in a way that nobody and nothing can ever enslave him or his power again, for as long as he lives."
"Why?" he asked, dumbfounded, as his shackles disappeared.
"Your life is your own now," I told him. "What I do with the power bestowed upon me from now on is my responsibility alone. You owe no explanations to anybody anymore.
"You have served me well, and I consider you a friend now. So go my friend, and live your life as you will. Maybe I'll see you again, in a millennia or so."
The genie just nodded, before fading away before my eyes.
...................
There I stood, at the end of creation. Time and space unravelled as everything ceased to be. Beside me, a tombstone that marked the final resting place of one of my oldest friends.
"It's been a good run," I stated, at peace with the end. "Everything I've done, everything I achieved, was all thanks to you. So, I think it's fitting that this, my millionth wish, be spoken upon your grave."
Standing up and brushing the dirt off my pants, I took one last look around me as nothingness started swallowing the small planetoid up.
"For my final wish," I spoke, the last sounds in a dying universe passing through my lips, "I wish to be mortal again."
My ring pulsed four times as my wish was granted. Sighing with relief, I sat back down, watching the blackness slowly creeping towards me. With a final breath, I tugged the ring off my fingers, and tossed it into the void.
Now, I would rest. | “Then I wish THAT rule didn’t exist.”
“Sorry, still against the rules,” the genie said with pride, pointing to the rule that stated that you cannot wish away the rule that states you cannot wish away the rules.
This continued on for 366 more cycles. Both the genie and the wisher sat there in what appeared to be a battle of wills to see who would lose their temper or patience first. Neither of them broke.
On the 367th attempt at the wish:
“Well I wish THOSE rules did not exist.”
The genie, confident in the rule’s ability to withstand this ruthless assault of attempts, snaps his fingers fully assuming the humongous book of rules to reappear and establish that such a wish is against the rules.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, the rule book appeared yes, but the wish had been granted.
The genie, dumbfounded, looked at the wisher in astonishment. “B-b-b-but wait, no, wait this doesn’t make any sense.”
He flips through the rules frantically.
The wisher, pleased in his ability to hold out, smiles with contentment in his success.
“I wish for the rule stating I can’t make more wishes to be removed.”
The genie looks up from his book page-flipping, flabbergasted by the audacity of this human.
“Well? We don’t have all day!” the wisher stated in a matter, clearly rubbing it in the genie’s face.
The genie begrudgingly snapped his fingers.
“You got 1 more wish,” the genie stated, already knowing what the wisher would wish for.
“I wish for a million wishes,” the wisher states excitedly.
The genie’s face goes from a face of annoyance and disbelief, to a face of horror, as in his millennia years of life, he could foresee the consequences of the wish he was about to grant. With that, he snaps his fingers...
1 trillion years later, the wisher and the genie remain. With his seemingly infinite power, the wisher had gained the ability of immortality. With infinite, time, power, money, and space he managed to siphon the energy of every galaxy in the universe. He was regarded as a god among every single species ever created in the universe. With his power he was able to create many more universes in his image, in what appeared to be an infinite cycle of rebirth and death.
The genie had long ago given up any hope of regaining control of the situation, as he was forced to be witness to the many atrocities the wisher caused through his wishing. Yet even after 1 trillion years, they both remain conscious, and active.
After 1 trillion years, the wisher grew bored of life. There was no more challenge, nothing left to do, see, or experience. Although the wisher had experienced varying levels of boredom over the trillion years he lived, finally he had reached his breaking point.
“I wish all of existence ceased to exist,” the wisher proclaimed.
An act of suicide. A fitting end for the wisher.
The genie looked at the wisher. Then looked down in thought.
“Well? We don’t have all millennia!” the wisher stated impatiently.
The genie looked up, looked at the wisher, smiled smugly, and snapped his fingers for the last time.
The next thing the wisher knew, he floated in space. No color, no light, no sound, no experience, no genie. He had forgotten he had wished himself immortal. His final wish did not include himself.
The wisher was cursed to float through an empty existence for all eternity with no hope for an end. Alone with his thoughts, the wisher would continue to live infinitely in the void. | 2022-01-04T03:17:41 | 2022-01-03T23:32:16 | 3,822 | 338 |
[WP] The new generation of vampire has discovered that just by taking iron supplements and vitamin D drops, they’re feeling fine without drinking human blood | I was only 147 when my parents were taken from me.
Even after all this time I remember it clearly. The screaming, the fire, the mob.
The world was so different then. Electricity hadn’t been harnessed, there was no television.
I lived in the shadows for centuries. I found others like me and we’d help each other for a time. It was never safe to stay together for long or gather too many of us. The ones hunting us would burn down a whole city if they found enough of us in one place.
It was after Chicago that I set off alone again. It was partially due to safety concerns, but in 150 years I still haven’t found another vampire in America.
The only upside of my condition is that my personal resources are at a scale few will ever realize or comprehend. I have no board of directors, no shareholders, and no considerations other than completing my goals.
I invested. 60 teams in 17 countries working on my problem since before the First World War.
None of them know the full scope of what they’re working on or why, and I’m sure that’s slowed them down more than s little.
I’ve got the time though, and the money.
They finished sequencing the genome in 2010, and things have accelerated since then.
I first saw daylight in 2020. Such irony. I walked around without fear while others cowered at home. It was another year before I could make synthetic blood pure enough to sustain me.
It will never replace the thrill and rush of stalking and pouncing on living prey, but I can subsist on it for years.
With my supplements I’ve been able to do something no vampire has ever done before, let myself become well known.
I know those who hunt me are still out there. I know how they find us. They look for certain patterns of crime, and families and estates that persist through the ages.
My private jet and corporate structure has kept me ahead of them as I feed for the past few decades, but now I’m seen in the day, and there are no telltale killings in my wake. I can’t possibly be a vampire.
Once I kick off my presidential campaign I’ll be far above suspicion, constantly on the move, and in a position to do more for my kind than any that came before me.
That’s a challenge for the future though. For now my focus is on creation. It’s hard enough for one vampire to sustain himself and avoid detection for this long. I’d dared not give my gift to another lest we attract too much attention.
Now though, now we can bide our time. Position our chess pieces. We can be seen in the sun, go for months and years without taking a human life due to necessity.
The people alive today won’t see it, but the future of Earth will be very different. We won’t have to hide much longer. | The new generation of vampires was unlike any that had come before them. They were stronger, faster, and more intelligent than their predecessors, and they had discovered a way to survive without drinking human blood.
By taking iron supplements and vitamin D drops, the vampires were able to feel strong and healthy without the need for human blood. This revolutionary discovery had the potential to change the vampire world forever.
But the vampires soon realized that their newfound way of life came with its own challenges. Iron and vitamin D were not always easy to come by, and the vampires had to search far and wide for these essential nutrients.
In order to secure a steady supply of iron and vitamin D, the vampires turned to the world of finance. They began to invest heavily in iron futures, buying up large quantities of iron at low prices and holding onto it until the price rose.
At the same time, the vampires also began to invest in asteroid mining. They saw the potential for vast riches in the endless expanse of space, and they were determined to be at the forefront of this new industry.
As the vampires' wealth and power grew, so too did their influence in the world. They became leaders in the worlds of finance and space exploration, shaping the future of both industries in ways that no one could have predicted.
And all the while, the vampires continued to thrive and flourish, thanks to their clever use of iron and vitamin D supplements. They had truly found a way to live in peace and prosperity without the need for human blood. | 2022-12-04T10:11:57 | 2022-12-04T08:46:36 | 193 | 72 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I’m lying in a bed on a tuesday night.
And I’m having restless dreams.
And then I awake from a story where I’m rescuing a princess from a wheel of cheese. Because there’s a chainsaw on my nightstand.
A groggy hand reaches over and slaps it reluctantly. Is it morning...a alarm? Some long lost love looking for luscious life-experiences? But no… a text message. Is it my wife? Will she be late tonight?
“DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”
So I make a curious eye sweep of the room. I pause at my window, where the forbidden object lies, and return my gaze in the opposite direction.
Nothing.
So, eyes squeezed shut, I walk over to the window. Just in case. I have a moment of panic when I trip on a errant pair of pants, but I right myself quickly. Then, in a fleeting, fluttering, futile gesture, I bravely bring down the blinds.
With that dangerous task complete, I sprint back to my bed, as if its covers will protect me from whatever has infested the sky.
Perhaps it’s just a joke, or the product of a overtaxed imagination. But somehow I know to be afraid.
Buzz.
Another a text? More instructions? Is there something else I’m not supposed to look at?
It’s from a old coworker. A good friend.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
I peek out from beneath my blanket bastion. A windows shuttered and silent. A door, barely open, with a crooked mouth along its length, mocking me.
Should I close it? No. Too dangerous. So I close my eyes and whisper.
“Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.”
Buzz.
Another text message. Perhaps I shouldn’t…
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.” from my best man.
Then a bing. A different app, I have so many.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
And then my phone begins to shake and chatter, with bings and chimes and whistles. Each one is like a stab in my stomach. What’s happening? What’s happening?
Then bit by bit, the phone sounds die out.
Then a new sound. A ringing. A bold, unique choice for a ringtone in this day and age, but I’ve always been a trend setter.
It’s my wife. Is she safe? Does she know what’s happening?
And before I can catch myself, I hit the answer button.
(Part 1? Sorry for a cliffhanger, it was getting long)
(r/StannisTheAmish)
| I wake up. It's still dark.
Some dogs howl while others bark.
I get up, go to pee.
Get back to bed, ready to be-
-sleeping for the next few hours.
For I can't stay awake, I have no power.
But then my phone rings, Ah a notification.
I try to cover my ears, alas, my realization.
A ping. Another ping. And a hundred ping more.
So many pings, I can no longer ignore.
I get up, hold my phone, ready to kill the messenger.
But up comes a warning of the impending danger.
"DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON" a text, I have receieved.
Just to find the others say that I have been decieved.
"It's a beautiful night, look outside", or so they plead.
In all this infusion of danger and confusion, I decide to concead-
To my lady known as slumber for your nonsense can wait.
It's 3 A.M you know, who messages so late?
I hear your stories conspiring
thinking dread yet admiring.
And while I still find some funny.
I for one switch off my phone,
again just me, I am alone,
my bed,my only company.
Good night.
Sleep tight.
Don't let the bed bugs bite.
| 2022-05-11T14:02:28 | 2018-04-06T20:24:10 | 314 | 11 |
[WP] It is 2009. You are the one time traveler to show up to Stephen Hawking’s unannounced time traveler party. You are from 200 years in his future. You have to explain to him why he can never tell anyone you showed up. | Just two men in a room.
A grandfather clock stands in a corner, ticking over a table with a lace doily and a lamp with a brown shade.
A mantle over the fireplace is littered with family members photos and other happy moments. Knickknacks that meant something for the time they were bought.
A window overlooks a modest garden, and the warm light from the kitchen brings in smells of freshly prepared food and drinks.
A small platter holding little glasses of fruit punch are condensing on the table. Little droplets of water becoming fat ones, gravity pushing them forward as they roll down, cannibalizing those underneath.
But there are two men in the room.
There should be more, but there are not.
One sits and watches the other, enraptured by the possibilities from his mere existence.
The other walls around and picks up photos.
“There are others you know”.
The man in the wheelchair startled.
“There are other time travelers here tonight. Just for you”
And the man in the wheelchair looked confused. As he should, as there were only just two men in the room. And a grandfather clock, some knickknacks, and some drinks that were getting warm.
“You can’t see them. I can’t see them either. But they are here”.
The man sighed and picked up another photo.
“Time travel is not really what we once thought it was. It’s common. Well it was. Until we discovered it’s...limitations”.
He put down that photo and picked up a little porcelain figurine. Turning it round and round in his fingers.
“Time travel does not place a human being forward or backward in time. This is impossible. The present is always the present, and the past is always the past. For a single universe”.
He put down the figurine and picked up the next photo. Two happy people on their wedding day.
He lingered over it.
“For a person to travel through time....is impossible. But a universe can be created in that time for just one person”.
He hesitated.
“I believe there are currently 3,762 time travelers in this room with you right now. More will come later. Or less. A millisecond is all that’s needed between universes to disturb that count. It would have been more, but I’m not sure how many of us there truly are anymore. More or less”.
The man in the wheelchair had not said a word. And he wouldn’t.
“There are countless universes being experienced every second across every time and every space. When we choose to go back into time, that universe becomes our own. Just by being sent back, or forward, is enough a disturbance to create that new layer to the multitudinous cake that is the universe. A new timeline, if you will. And each time we move through this slipstream, we make a new hole, a new universe. I have made countless new universes in my travels”.
He ran his finger down the side of the photo he still held in his hands.
“Like a God....and yet”
And he sighed. And still held the photo of the happy wedding day.
“Do not quest for times outside your present moment friend. There are costs. Costs I was once willing to pay when I was a million years younger and stupid. And I would give anything to go back. But we cannot. I am alone in this universe of my own making. We all are. I can never return to my time. Outside these timelines we create...there is nothing. I can return to my home city and see no people. I can see no life. Because I am all that is in that moment. A narcissistic universe that has become my...and others, personal hell”.
He put down the photo gently.
“Stay in your moment friend. If you must revisit the past...”
He touched the photo again lightly, something glimmering in the corner of his eyes.
“Revisit it like this. Save your photos and your memoirs, destroyed by time they might one day be. Hold them near and dear, and revisit them in your memories when you clutch them. Be the God of your timeline, friend. Live for the now”.
The clock ticked.
The sad man standing turned around and looked at the other.
“I wish you could really hear this”, he said.
And he disappeared.
And the clock stopped.
And the universe once again, ended. | In the video documentary, a man with a deep base voice will narrate most of it for me. The video will make the event seem magical, but in reality, it's me waiting in a room with many cameras on me in all corners, strange lighting, and the film crew's muffled conversations to one another.
I tried talking to the guy holding the boom mic over me, and made him laugh a couple of times. I said a few things unrelated to the documentary when the camera man interviewed me, but they'll probably get cut.
Most of us here don't know whether to feel anticipation or like this is a big farce; no one wants to pick a side. You risk getting your hopes dashed, or coming to terms with being an unfeeling monster. That is, no one has picked a side in front of me. Everyone has the same unplaceable energy they can't really figure out how to spend.
Two hours later, we're still here though the deadline's gone by. Everyone's in agreement that a time traveler could still be fashionably late. People are still talking to each other. We made extra food for the crew for their wait, and all that champagne has to go somewhere once the bubble's popped. No one looks disappointed; I don't think you could feel disappointed. I tell myself I'm proving something, but I don't truly feel let down, though of course, everyone has moments in the past they want to change or just revisit.
I don't feel let down, I feel like I'm remembering something. I always feel like I'm remembering something, and that by proving its laws, the world's laws, I can't forget it.
5:30. The camera crew is gone. The lights went first while the sun set. PAs are going around taking the set down - I'll have my house back in not half an hour now. The director is chatting with me as I roll with him out to his car parked on the sidewalk. We're exchanging a few pleasantries about time - the subject is a silly one, casual, lots of things to be said to keep the moment fun. As he bends to get into the backseat of his car, watching his pantleg won't get snagged on the door, something's firmly pressed into my palm, though of course, I won't notice it.
Maybe it'll slip out of my hand before someone finds it there. I bet it's a note. I don't close my eyes, but it feels like I'm remembering again, looking at the car door, the tinted window rolling up, but looking upward at the night for hours and hours and hours. Nearby, in a line, they're still pulling boom mics and various electronics out of my house. "Stephen, the time travelers are never in *your* universe. This whole place is yours. For you. Your own."
I rolled back into my house as someone, under either arm, carried the last couple of boom mics out. | 2020-10-17T05:36:58 | 2020-10-17T02:23:37 | 144 | 26 |
[WP] As punishment for his sins, a human is sentenced to battle endlessly against hordes of demons with nothing but a knife. Satan's court laughs at him for a few thousand years... until he starts winning the battles. Then they start screaming in terror. | An angel is a perfect being, as perfect as it is possible to be within a single corporeal form. It does not experience hunger or thirst; it does not lust for power or pleasure; it does not feel passion or pain, desire or attachment, joy or grief. With perfection comes power, unimaginable by mortals, stretching out into dimensions unfathomable by human senses. Yet by its own perfection is it bound, for to choose any path besides the perfect path would be... imperfect. And so an angel cannot choose at all. It simply is, forever.
---
Petra was running out of space on the wall to mark the number of times she had died. "Died" was maybe the wrong word, she conceded, but dammit it sure felt like dying.
Every time.
This time had been particularly bad. She ran her hand over her abdomen, still half-expecting it to be ripped open by the bull-headed fiend that had gored her through a few hours ago, and then trampled her bones into the dust of the arena. She felt only her own muscles, lean and powerful and, importantly, whole. It took a while to coalesce back into a physical form - she'd gone out into the ring half-wispy a few times, and it never went well. So now she checked.
She had a routine of things to check, when she woke up. Arms, check. Legs, check. Eyes, ears, nose, tongue - check, check check check. Each of her senses had saved her, in past lives, more times than she cared to count, and each had been honed to a jangling precision.
There was no point in waiting around, she knew; dawdle long enough, and her jailers would just send a hellhound in to hurry her up. If it killed her in her cell, it would still be there when she woke up the next time, and then it'd probably kill her again. The first time she got stuck in that loop, it took her twenty years to break out of it.
Besides, she looked forward to her little outings. She stepped out into the light.
---
There are angels, though, who make the impossible choice, to cast aside perfection and eternity in favor of the pleasures of the now - consumption and theft, pride and rage, corruption and ruin. These are demons, beings of hunger and action, acting with no thought but for their own insatiable desire, in each moment alone. A demon is incapable of restraint, or remorse; it will bring its full unearthly power to bear upon whatever unlucky soul posesses what it desires, without hesitation. And this is its weakness - it does not plan, for that would require considering the future, and it does not grow, for that would mean reflecting on the past. It has trapped itself in its own eternal moment, frozen in the fires of passion.
---
The stands were empty, as they usually were these days. Early on in her damnation, she'd been an attraction, a grand day out for the local imps and demonets. She lasted such a short time in the ring back then that they could run her through the gauntlet three times a day, like clockwork, with a bonus matinee on weekends. Then she started to tire less quickly, die less predictably. Three shows became two, sometimes one. Some days she didn't die at all.
There was an assortment of garbage scattered on the ground in front of the door - a cracked buckler, a rusty helmet, a suspiciously shiny trident. All of them were traps, she had learned. The shield would break under a demon's blow; the helmet was two sizes too big, and her sweat and blood would grease it to slip down over her eyes; the trident's triple prongs would sink easily into demon flesh, and then be impossible to pull out, leaving her defenseless against the next strike. She kicked the trinkets off to the side, where they wouldn't get under her feet. She was better with the knife anyway.
The knife was always there, cold and constant. Its plain hilt slid into her hand like water onto cracked earth. At first its shape had been crude and unwieldy to her, but over time she learned its range and rhythm, learned what it could block and what it could cut, molded herself to fit its shape, the shape this place demanded of her. She picked it up, and now she was truly whole.
And then jumped back, as a club as big as her torso landed where she had been standing, brushing her hair as it passed in front of her face. The taste of brimstone hung in the dust kicked up by the impact. She wheeled to face her first opponent of the day - a cyclops, today, three times her height. Small fry. A good warmup.
She sized it up, gauging its range, finding its openings. For a moment, the fire in its eye seemed almost to dim, just a bit. Then it charged at her, and she threw herself forward to meet it. | Once freed from the bonds of a mortal body, time is no longer significant. When I was mortal, I got frustrated at the fact it could take me decades of training to rise to the top. That’s why I cheated my way there.
“You have six months left to live,” the doctor had said. Nothing like a fatal ticking timer to motivate a girl into action. C’mon, I couldn’t leave my family behind to starve. I needed to know they were cared for, so yes, I broke a few human laws but you know what? I left them with with funds to carry them through, so no, I don’t regret it.
“For your thinth,” the creature hissed. “You will feel pain like you’ve never felt bef- bef-“ it broke into a spluttering laughter *before* it could even finish its sentence.
I shrugged. “I mean, I’m already dead. It’s not like I can get deader.”
The creature’s purple mouth turned into a snarl. “Oh, nononono, yeth.”
“Yes? I can get d-“
“No!” It snapped. “The big both has granted you an immortal body, but *my* both ith going to make you thuffer!”
It shoved a rusted sword towards me, then a shield. I took them both and grinned. “For me?!”
“You might need it,” it sniggered, almost bursting with excitement. When he withdrew I found myself on a grassy field, hills in the distant shrouded in mist.
I heard the hoard long before their silhouettes darkened the horizon. Hundreds upon hundreds of animalistic demons ran towards me. I spun, only to find myself circled. They crashed into me moments later.
That was my first fight. I lasted thirty seconds.
I awoke the next day to find my body healed.
The spluttering demon stood over me, grinning.
“That’s it?” I asked.
The creature’s grin widened. “Yeth. Everyday. Forever.” It threw my weapons towards me and walked away, cackling. And even before its laughter faded, I was on the field again. This time I jumped up and got ready.
I lasted a whole minute. And as I laid there on my back, the world fading to black, something clicked inside my head, and a wide smile crept over my face.
“What’th tho funny?!” My demon demanded.
I pushed myself up and snatched my sword and shield from him. “Tell your boss I’m coming for him.” I winked.
Forever is a long time. After just one battle, I had doubled my survival time. Without the consequence of death, and the determination of a human with literally nothing to lose, I decided I was going to learn to kick some ass, and then some.
—-
Eight Thousand Years Later
“What do you mean, ‘she’th won’ ?”
The Devil glared at the lesser demon, Jorulok he was named. Jorulok the joke.
Jorulok wrung his hands together. “I mean she hath defeated the hordeth, my lord, and she thaid…”
“Well?!” Devil snapped, his patience quickly evaporating as puffs of smoke through his nostrils.
“She thaid-“
The door slammed open, crashing against the stone wall and splintering into pieces and startling the Devil himself.
“I said,” the human announced, “I’m coming for you.” | 2021-10-28T23:56:43 | 2021-10-28T22:09:57 | 1,064 | 562 |
[WP] In the future, every human born lives for exactly 1 billion heartbeats. Some go to extreme lengths to keep their heart rate low. | They thought they'd saved the world. So did I. So did everyone. It made the front page of every major paper. A pharmaceutical breakthrough like this hadn't happened for decades.
Everyone knew the deal, you died at exactly 1 billion heartbeats. 100,800 heartbeats per day on average. Just over 27 years total if you didn't take precautions. We all wore heart rate monitors. We lived our lives with a countdown displayed on our wrists. I knew a lot of women who wore fakes, but secretly they kept their own count down away from public display.
Personally I enjoyed the certainty of it. Being able to watch sand trickle through the hour glass motivated me to live my life. I was happy to trade a day here and there for an experience. I knew sky-diving cost me two days of my life each time, but what was the point of living if you never truly experienced living. I think my mindset is the healthiest to have, but I've been counselled about this many times.
A physicians advice was to live a sedentary lifestyle. To sleep as much as possible and have a diet high in refined sugars and saturated fats. Health care professionals lecture us on the benefits of avoiding physical exertion, exercise and getting enough cholesterol. All of which slow the basal heart rate, in turn leading to increased longevity.
But now there was soma. The miracle drug. Soma reduced all autonomic functions, dilated the arterial pulmonary systems and left the user semi-conscious. The ideal state for those wishing to increase their lifespan. The public couldn't get enough. I guess fear is a great motivator. And nothing instils fear like the idea of dying. Most people will do anything to avoid it. And most people do. Except me.
I feel like the last man alive. I spend my days traversing a world of comatose semi-humans. They live like hollowed out shells. Soma was supposed to bring life but all I can see is it being taken away. | Finally! The immortality problem has been solved! Today we have performed the first surgery, transplanting an artificial heart into a person, that can pump the blood with electric motor, without beating. He will not have to die, and neither will you - just use our services, and your heart will be stopped forever!
(The original heart is preserved in frozen form, so that it could be stimulated to perform 1 billion heartbeats with electrical shock, at any point, in case a person gets tired of living and wishes to commit suicide.)
| 2015-09-19T05:59:26 | 2015-09-19T05:20:09 | 119 | 42 |
[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 | 2017-09-14T07:28:47 | 56 | 16 |
[WP] The year is 2030. Bakery art is so realistic, literally anything could be cake. The uncertainty has gripped the world in fear. I go to hug my wife for comfort. She is cake. | Daniel stands by the bakery shop by the street. The cake looked so good... The sight of it made him drool. He just stared at it for a long while until finally, he gave up, pulled some money out of his pocket and entered the store.
He reached for the door handle. As soon as the cold, metal handle touched his fingertips, he knew something was up. He felt the need to crush the handle, as if it was... something soft. He did what his brain told him to do. He crushed it.
To his shock, the cake that was once the door handle crumpled in his hands. He felt the soft icing slide over his palm. His eyes were still.
"Hey, buddy!" Someone called out from inside the store. He looked up in the store. There was a man waving at him. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he stared as the giant red velvet cake that was once a human being fell to the floor. Bits of cake and icing spread everywhere. Daniel screamed.
He ran away from the store and got in his car. He reached for the start button. At the blink of his eye, it became a mini chocolate muffin. Daniel wiggled his hand furiously to get that evil substance off his hands. His hand accidentally hit the car door. Immediately, pieces of birthday cake began falling on the poor man. Eventually, his vision was blocked. He opened his eyes. They began to sting, as bits of icing were entering his eyes. He began doing something unexpected. He began swimming in the pile of icing. He kept swimming up and up and up until the day light hit his eyes. He looked at the bright sun.
Daniel quickly got himself out of the pile of icing and ran all the way home. He ran up to his bedroom.
"Charlene?" he called out to his wife. There was no answer. He walked in, and found pieces of cake lying on his bed. He looked outside. The sun looked different. He squinted his eyes, and that is when he started fearing for his life.
It was cake. | As I held her close, I remembered all of the times that her having "cake" meant that she had a nice ass. The only problem was, as much as I agreed with the other zombies, that she was incredibly fit, I fought as hard as I could, to not actually take a bite, hoping that it would satiate my undying hunger. I fought as many of them off as I could, while clutching her close to me, but eventually, they tore her free from my arms. I finally gave up and started eating everything that caught my eye. At least until I saw my grandchildren and it overcame my desire. After that, I had to find a way to protect them. | 2022-04-26T17:52:06 | 2022-04-26T16:48:49 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] A super-villain attacks Comic Con, assuming it's a summit of the worlds most powerful super-heroes plotting against him. | "Surrender to me now or meet your end," I announced to Superman, whose abs looked rather fake. He was much shorter than I'd imagined. And a bit more... rotund.
"Dude! Come over here. This guy refuses to go meta." Batman joined him, his mask was rather fabric-y; he snorted in derision.
"Who are you supposed to be?" Gotham's hero asked with a look of superiority.
Typical Batman.
"I am your doom!"
"Like Dr. Doom? No, you're way off. He never wore a coat and tie. Your mask is made of white rubber, not metal. And where's the hooded cape? You completely messed up the costume," Superman stated.
"What? No, I'm the Grim Reaper; I bring death to all of you!"
I waited for them to tremble in fear. Spider-man came to join them... wait. What? He's from the Marvel comic books; he's not real.
Iron Man and the Hulk joined him. Huh? Why did their costume look like they were bought at a corner store? And why was the Hulk only five-feet tall?
"...Um... You will all bow to me."
My confusion had taken away from the confidence I'd built up. I'd spent the months practicing this. What the heck, Grim? Pull yourself together.
"Who leads your brigade?"
There we go. The poise was coming back.
The group of five all pointed to table about twenty feet past them.
"He is," they stated simultaneously.
"Stan Lee! What is he doing here?" I excitedly exclaimed. He was my hero. I'd grown up on his comics, relying on them during the divorce; he'd inspired me to become a super-villain. "Oh my gosh, I'm so excited! Do any of you have a pen I can borrow; I'm going to get his autograph."
| There was an explosion. Then madness. Con-goers dropped as darts pierced through fake armor and revealing costumes, flashes of orange and yellow the last sight they saw before darkness. After the dust settles a woman in an insect costume checked over one fallen nerd.
"Oh sh*t. Sweety, I think this may just be a comic book convention"
"What? Oh Sh*t! HENCHMEN RETREAT! The Guild is gonna be pissed" | 2014-10-04T12:36:28 | 2014-10-04T09:44:07 | 57 | 24 |
[WP] Half-Life 3 is released. World peace ensues. | It just appeared. No fanfare, no promotion, no marketing, it just appeared on the Steam front page.
Within seconds it was all over the web, it spread like wild fire, trending on Twitter, clogging up Facebook feeds, racking up thousands of shares on Tumblr. Then, came the noise.
All across the world a keening whine could be heard, a strange high-pitched screech, just at the edge of human hearing. No one knew what was causing it, but it was getting more intense by the second.
It grew louder; dogs howled and barked. Louder; glass vibrated and shattered. Louder; people fell to the ground clutching their ears in agony!
There was only one thing it could have been: a million voices, all unified in one hysterical, apocalyptic scream of nerd-rage.
A million mouths cried out in bitter disappointment, a million fists slammed down on a million keyboards, a million tear-choked eyes read one title: 'Half life 3: Black Mesa Kart Racer'.
All those minds, all across the planed, joined together in one moment of utter despair.
The years of waiting, the anticipation, the hype, the hope. It was all for nothing! No, worse than nothing it was for a shitey kart racer with bobble headed versions of Half Life characters racing around a Ravenholm inspired track on brightly coloured go-carts throwing headcrabs at each other!
Just as the world-wide cry of geek-hate reached its fever pitch a message appeared on Steam, ’Gordon Freeman character DLC, only $16.99!’
The scream suddenly rose to unfeasible levels, the skies boiled with violent storm clouds, the ground shook, the oceans surged and heaved!
Then, suddenly, it stopped.
A delicate, timid silence settled on the world like a gauze sheet.
A million minds came to the realisation that they were suddenly aware of a million other minds.
The sheer power of the collective gamer-woe had led to an emotional singularity, a kind of mass telepathy.
A million hearts reached out to one another.
They had all been hurt, they had all suffered, they had all been let down, but they had not been alone.
A perfect empathy, that transcended language, borders, and religion, brought millions people together… The world would never be the same.
Deep inside Valve HQ Gabe Newell leaned back in his chair, and smiled. | 3/3/2033
Dear President Newell,
As a former president myself, I would like to congratulate your success in running for office and winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Indeed, I and the American people are indebted to your work in uniting the two party Congress under the Orange party.
I must commend your resolution on the Israel Palestine conflict - getting everyone Steam and your new game so they don't have to live out their fantasies of violence. I'm sure you know this already, but international trade on your government video game service has skyrocketed: profits are in the tens of trillions annually, enough to pay all global debts within a decade!
Healthcare has gotten the reform it's needed as well - discounted copies of HL3 have been proven to cure cancer, AIDS, and Ebola. However, I just want to make one special request -- could you please stop the NSA and FBI from wearing those creepy one eyed masks?
Sincerely,
Barack Obama | 2014-07-19T14:33:52 | 2014-07-19T14:28:49 | 623 | 36 |
[WP] Write a story with an interesting premise and completely ruin it by the end. | The boy held his hands together and clenched, the assault rifle on his back swaying with every vibration of the truck. He looked with fright at the faces around him: steely-eyed older boys conversing in an African french he was too used to back home, or atleast, what used to be his home. If he closed his eyes, he could remember it: the soft soot from fires lit at dusk pervaded the air, emerging from the crevasses in rondavel huts. The smell of meat and vegetables being cooked in pots and pans, the warm hug of his mother. Oh, his mother. He closed his eyes, tried to remember the way her lips lit curled up when she saw him. Vague, distant..it seemed so long ago.
“What's up, Enu?” The boy sitting next to him said in broken french. “Are you scared, pussy?”
Enu looked at Chika with hard, steely eyes. The boy was only 12, but Chika had seen enough hardship to carry twice his years, and it showed in the lines and scars on his face.
“No, I am not. I've been to training,” Enu said, with what he hoped was confidence.
“Ah, yes, *training.*” Chika smirked. “You are young, and you are stupid, but let me say: training is nothing. Training is a buffalo's balls.”
He looked down at his gun and tapped it earnestly, smiling back at Enu. Some giddy madness flashed across his cornea. “Only when you pull the trigger do you learn. Tell me, faggot, this your first time?”
The truck jittered and hopped, and Enu hoped the speedbump would end the comversation. Chika was still staring, waiting for an answer.
“Yes, it is my first time,” he admitted, crestfallen. Chika smirked, wide and smug.
“You probably are still also hoping your family will come for you, is that right?” Chika asked.
Enu looked out the long slit which pointed to the outside. He saw the fissures of heat in the African Savannah, the long necked beasts who stretched to heaven, and the silent but dignified lions who let their manes sway in the wind.
“Yes, I am,” he said, finally. Chika's face grew sullen.
“They won't come, they never will. They sold you, you faggot. *They fucking sold you,*” he said. “And you'll never -”
“Chika, what the hell did you just say?” the passenger seat interrupted. Enu blinked and the African Savannah outside melted into swathes of Ohio grassland.
“Mom, I was just playing Africa!” Chika protested. “C'mon, you can't….”
“Africa! What did I say about playing that game, huh?” Chika's mom said.
“But it's fun! We're just pretending!”
“It's gruesome. Child soldiers are no pretending matter. Why can't you just play Cowboys and Indians like regular kids?”
Enu quietly sunk into his leather seat, clutching his paintball gun, as the protests from his brother and his mom crescendo'd. They soon were shouting at each other, and the whining screech in his brother's voice reminded him of the girls in his 3rd grade class. Soon, his dad chimed in:
“If y'all don't damn well shut up, I'm turning this car around!”
Silence. Enu sighed. He wished he was at home playing Minecraft on his computer. | I stood in the doorway of my house, not knowing if I should walk back into my old life, endangering everyone I ever loved, or let my family be safe, but never see them again. I have known no person who is as corrupted as me, who has lied and betrayed as many as I have, simply for the sake of living. I do not know if I may ever relieve myself of these sins, or if I must walk with them every day, until my being is filled with the blood and filth which comes to those who walk alongside death. As I made up my mind, I turned away from the door, but not before I glanced behind me. What I saw almost broke my heart. My mother, who was well into her 80’s, was sitting in the grand recliner I had bought specifically for her, a tear rolling down her wrinkled cheek, as she stared blankly into space. All of a sudden, she jumped up, ran to the window where I was standing, and jump kicked through it. As her foot connected with my chest, I flew backwards, and slammed against the apple tree, with some broken ribs. My mother just stood there, her feet bleeding from the glass underneath her, and her eyes started to glow. Then, she started shooting lasers all over the place, creating giant holes in the walls of the house, with one grazing my cheek before cutting straight through the apple tree trunk.
“ I am here to pass judgement upon you as your mother. Behold my wrath!” And so saying, she teleported to me, kissed my cheek once, then teleported back to her chair, fixing everything she had broken once she sat down. Then she resumed her same posture and look from before, and I left. Later that evening, I saw on TV that aliens were real, and that a spaceship was floating over us. I decided to go by the ocean and become a hermit. At least then I could do penance for all the sins. Of course, when I finished building my house by the sea, my mother teleported to me and sat down, while I stayed standing. Forever. | 2017-01-02T17:17:08 | 2017-01-02T17:02:10 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] Humans are shocked to find out they are the most culturally advanced race in the galaxy. Why? They created music. | "HUMANITY. YOU HAVE MUCH TO ANSWER FOR."
Even though the words had been through at least one round of translation, and even though the intensity had been reduced as much as possible, the alien's voice still managed to be grating and loud. It hit pitches that activated primal fight/flight reflexes in species galaxy-wide, produced infrasonics that triggered hallucinations in susceptible beings, and made nails on a chalkboard seem downright melodic in comparison.
Captain Desna was a trained professional, however, so she barely even winced. "We've coexisted in peace for years now, *Tumult*," she said. The Shriekers' personal names were as horrible to pronounce as every other part of their language and so they were typically addressed in communications by their ship's name instead.
Desna's own ship, EDS *Merriweather*, was a mid-sided cruiser that might have been a match for *Tumult* had the latter not had three destroyers as escorts. Captain Desna had no reason to think, when hailing them as part of her patrol, that they would apparently take offense.
"WE DISCOVERED YOUR ARTS, HUMAN. WE DISCOVERED YOUR 'MUSIC'," *Tumult* transmitted.
Again, Desna managed to appear stoic despite the aural assault. "We are aware that there are likely aspects of our culture you may find... unpleasant," she said. That sort of thing had been ironed out in first contact, years ago. But it hadn't been that many years ago, she thought. It was possible that something about their music had offended the Shriekers.
"YOU MISUNDERSTAND. IT IS BEAUTIFUL. NEVER HAD WE CONSIDERED THAT SOUNDS WERE ANYTHING OTHER TO BE ENDURED, VOICES ANYTHING OTHER THAN TO INFLICT PAIN UPON OUR ENEMIES' SOUND RECEPTORS AND, IN AN EMERGENCY, TO COMMUNICATE."
That sounded like it was supposed to be a good thing, but Shrieker voice tone was something that made everything sound horrible so it was hard to tell. Desna managed a neutral "How can I help you, *Tumult*?"
"FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR OF OUR TIME, PEACE REIGNED SUPREME, OUR NEVER-ENDING HORROR OF SPEECH MUTED BY YOUR SERENE AND PEACEFUL GENRES OF 'DEATH METAL' AND THE LIKE."
Desna didn't need to be a xenodiplomat to know that there was a 'but' coming.
"BUT THEN, HAVING LULLED US INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY, HAVING TRICKED US INTO TAKING INTO OUR CULTURE THE FIRST PART OF YOUR TWO-PART POISON, YOU THEN ACTIVATED YOUR TRAP."
Did the Shriekers know what a mixed metaphor was? Given how the rest of their language sounded, Desna thought, it was probably the only kind of metaphor they had.
"YOU INTRODUCED 'KARAOKE '."
And there it was. Some well-meaning tourist or maybe someone trying to make a buck had approached the Shriekers - a species who insisted that humans' name for them wasn't offensively accurate *enough* - and told them to *sing along*.
"I can see how that might be an issue," Desna understated.
"YES. WE HAVE BEEN INFESTED WITH EARWORMS, DOOMED FOREVER TO IMPUGN THE AIR WITH THE HORRIFICALLY MANGLED CORPSES OF WHAT ONCE WAS BEAUTIFUL. YOU MADE US DO THIS. YOU INTRODUCED US TO LOVE, AND THEN YOU GAVE US A KNIFE, AND YOU MADE US CUT IT UNTIL WE BLED."
Yes, Desna thought, definitely just the one kind of metaphor. Still, she had to try something, "*Tumult*, please accept our apology for this breach. Karaoke is something that no sober adult would indulge in, I assure you. This is an outlier among our cultures, and will not be repeated in your presence."
"IT IS TOO LATE, *MERRIWEATHER*. YOUR MEMETIC CORRUPTION OF OUR CULTURE HAS BEEN AMPLIFIED, REDOUBLED. WE SING OURSELVES APART AS YOU AND I SPEAK, AND ONLY YOUR TRANSLATOR SPARES YOU FROM MY RENDITION OF 'ACHEY BREAKY HEART' THAT I AM INVOLUNTARILY SCREAMING AS WE SPEAK."
Desna made an absent mental note to buy a beer to whoever had updated their translation software.
"THERE IS ONLY ONE THING WE CAN DO, *MERRIWEATHER*. ONE THING WE CAN DO TO YOUR SPECIES WHICH HAS DOOMED OURS. THIS IS NOT A DELEGATION SEEKING AN APOLOGY. THIS IS NOT A DELEGATION SEEKING REPARATION. THIS IS A DELEGATION SEEKING REVENGE."
Desna nodded to the navigation officer, who had been calculating an escape route through hyperspace the moment communications had begun. In an instant, their pre-spooled hyperdrive came to life, and moments later they'd escaped into the temporary safety of FTL travel, carrying with them *Tumult's* last words before they left comms range:
"THIS IS WAR." | Moments before, Stephen was just another random person from Portola, California. You've never heard of it, I'm sure, because there's no reason for you to have heard of it. Nothing of interest ever happens there. Well, except the time Shirley was banging Joe that runs the tire shop. I mean, everyone knew. And everyone knew that Joe was just the most recent in a long line of easy conquests she'd surmounted. But everyone knew enough to act surprised when her husband told them he found out.
But this isn't a story about Shirley. This is about Stephen, who had up to this moment been a nobody from nowhere. His grades in school were never particularly poor. But certainly weren't exceptional either. And college wasn't a viable option for him, since there's none near Portola, and no one that lives there makes enough to support their kids going very far for school. The few that ever do make that much use it immediately to get the mother fuck out of Portola. And now, Steve worked as a clerk at the KS Market, where he barely made enough to squeak by something you might confuse for an existence.
But not today. The Xulai people from a distant solar system had recently discovered earth. And more importantly, that earth had developed culture. The Xulai people had many of the fine arts similar to earth. They too had theatrical dance, drama, and paintings of dogs playing poker. They even had pornography. Though, since they only had one orifice (What humans might call a "mouth") used for breathing, eating, expelling waste, and reproduction, their porn is a little less interesting (ok. The fetish stuff is pretty good).
But on with the story. Today, or moreover, this evening, the Xulai people had sent an away team to investigate further. To learn of the one thing earth had, but they didn't. Music. They had caught snippets of it in limited quality beamed and scrambled through the atmosphere. It moved them in ways they'd never experienced before. The soulful howls of Jimi's guitar. The soothing melodies of the Beatles. The comforting tones of Sinatra's voice. The pain of Adele's lyrics. Whatever the fuck Ke$ha does. They needed to know more. To obtain full quality copies. To experience it live. To know if all humans (the primary inhabitants of culture) were gifted with the talent to create it.
So, the away team picked a fairly quiet area, but what seemed to be a fairly trafficked area within it. They didn't want too much attention, but did want a fair chance at being blessed with a sample of this unique culture. They landed their small craft in the parking lot of the convenience store. They walked into the building and found Steve on his own, so they approached.
Steve shouted "my God! What are you? Ain't no way you're from around here! You aren't them Millennials , are you? ". As I said, his grades weren't spectacular.
"we are of the Xulai people", the aliens announced, all 3 in unison as if of one mind. "in all our searching of the universe, we have studied many beings, large, small, ugly, beautiful, and sorta fuckable after a few beers. But in all our searching, we have only found your planet to have music. We are intrigued by this, and we must know more. We wish to know, are all humans musically gifted? Do all of you sing, or play instruments?"
Stephen thought for a moment."well, I DJ sometimes."
The aliens, again in unison asked "what is this... DJ? How is it performed?"
Steve replied, "well, I play a lot of Skrillex, mix in some Kesha, and a little top 40."
The Xulai looked at each other disappointedly. Silently they left, never to return.
You've probably heard this story before. It's true, actually. But would you have believed a convenience store clerk telling you he was visited by aliens that didn't understand dubstep? | 2018-08-24T00:22:07 | 2018-08-24T00:21:16 | 65 | 10 |
[WP] The Most Vicious and Evil Serial Killer of the past 50 years has finally been caught, he is on trial and being filmed live in front of the world. The judge begins reading him his crimes... | "Will the defense please rise."
"All counts are listed individually within.
You are hereby charged with the following crimes:
Murder in the first degree, 147 counts.
Soliciting to commit murder, 319 counts.
Endangering the safety of an aircraft, 9 counts.
Arson, 10 counts.
Possession of a firearm with intent to endanger life, 75 counts.
Use of firearm to resist arrest, 86 counts.
Possession of prohibited weapons, 59 counts.
Causing danger to road users, 23 counts.
Wounding or grievous bodily harm with intent to cause grievous bodily harm, 18 counts.
Endangering the safety of railway passengers, 2 counts.
Prison mutiny, 1 count.
Assaulting prison officer whilst possessing firearm, 1 count.
Drug trafficking offences at sea, 1 count.
Causing bodily injury by explosives, 489 counts.
Using explosive or corrosives with intent to cause grievous bodily harm, 43 counts.
Hostage taking, 39 counts.
Offences against international protection of nuclear material, 2 counts.
Meeting of proscribed organizations, 1 count.
Incitement of terrorism overseas, 14 counts.
Involvement in arrangements facilitating the acquisition, retention, use or control of criminal property, 1 count.
Acquisition, use or possession of criminal property, 1 count.
Being drunk on an aircraft, 7 counts.
Impersonating Customs officer, 1 count.
Intimidating a witness, juror etc., 12 counts.
Harming, threatening to harm a witness, juror etc, 5 counts.
How do you plead?"
"Guilty."
There was a collective gasp from the room
And a woman in the back, amused at all the counts they'd missed. | "27 counts of murder in the first degree."
Deadpan. An empty shell of a human.
"Jonathan O'Brien, 27. Blunt force trauma."
"Ryan Connelly, 24. Blunt force trauma."
"James Norwood, 29. Blunt force trauma."
And so it went for another 23 counts until "Angel Goodwood, 7. Asphyxiation."
A glimmer in his eye. A shard of remorse escaping his control. He broke down. | 2014-07-22T15:20:19 | 2014-07-22T14:14:18 | 15 | 10 |
[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. | Being a single parent was tough.
I mean- life was tough on everyone, pretty much all the time- and I wasn't one to compare my problems to someone else's and try to say 'my life is tougher because of this and that,' but it certainly had been a struggle for me lately.
Sofia had died when Amelia was three. She was six, now- and I hadn't really known my own mother, either.
I felt that I was distinctly lacking as a parent- I was likely failing to instill lessons that she would need. Was I raising a strong daughter? Was I giving her enough space? Was I giving her *too much* space? Was I accidentally pressuring her into my own hobbies and interests, or pushing her the other way, somehow?
These thoughts rattled around in my brain all the time- but the one thing I knew for sure was that **I loved her** and I would do anything to ensure her happiness.
As I drifted off to sleep, one night after a particularly long day at work and with Amelia, I remembered how my grandfather- the man who primarily raised me- would tell me stories by the campfire. He had been an ocean sailor, and had all kinds of wild tales to tell- storms with waves that touched the sky, creatures passing underneath his boat, the likes of which modern science had yet to find and categorize...and, he always told me of his prayer.
For safety, and as was tradition in his bloodline, he would pray to some forgotten deity every time he left land, and every time he came back to land.
I still remembered that prayer.
*Lord Iono, bless me and keep me,*
*that the waves of this life do not overtake me*
*that the storms not be gentle, but that my skill may match it*
*and if the day comes that I am pulled under the depths,*
*that you lend me aid,*
*or give me painless death*
*Amen*
I did feel rather like I had been pulled under a certain kind of depths- perhaps not literal ones, but breathing...had been hard lately.
With that thought, a few tears came to my eyes. I didn't know what I was doing. I needed help- but without Sofia, I had no one to turn to.
Eventually, sleep took me.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Amelia woke me. It was my day off from work, blessedly. I needed it.
But...There was a new vigor in my heart. I don't know where this new strength came from, but seeing her bouncing blonde curls, her wide, earnest eyes- I knew I wasn't going to let life keep me down. I would set *an example* for her.
*I ask not that the storms be gentle, but that my skill may match it*
Amelia was tugging on my hand. "Daddy, please, we have a guest! Can you get us the cookies?!"
I shot up out of bed. We had *what?* Someone was *in my house?*
Given that we didn't live in the nicest neighborhood in the world, I had my cellphone in hand in case I needed to call the police- and I pulled my self-defense piece out of the safe, quickly.
"Stay here for a moment, Amelia- I'm just going to greet our guest. I'll grab the cookies from the top shelf, too."
I went down, walking at an even pace.
Sat on my couch was.... my grandfather.
Or- wait, was it? Something was just a little off.
"Who" I managed to say, thankfully my voice was clear "are you?"
The image of my grandfather melted a little. Squid tentacles appeared where his long white hair had been- then shifted back.
*"The Tide will not take you, Son of Iono. I am here to* **ensure** *it."* | The scene in front of me was straight out of an Alice in Nightmare-land painting. Her sitting there in her favorite blue dress, eyes sparkling and looking expectedly at the tray in my hand.
The smell of freshly baked cookies fill the air. Chocolate chip, her favorite. It's surprising how calm I felt. I think it was because my eyes were fixed on her not that... that *thing* sitting on the play table opposite.
She practically beamed as she extended her little hand towards it. "Mommy, this is my friend Cxudhal. His name starts with a C but you're not supposed to say it He says. Cxudhal, this is my mommy. If you ask her for cookies she'll make them but you have to be polite, she doesn't like bad kids."
The thing nodded in acknowledgment. One word from that statement kept ringing in my head over and over. I've always heard of people going into red hot rages went angered but I've never felt that. There was no heat in me at this sight. Instead there was cold, from my center ice spread through my veins until it reached the tips of my fingers.
The word reverberating in my skull over and over. Calmly I set the tray to the side and not on the play table. She frowned at this but before she could object I looked pointedly at the thing.
"Grown **men** don't sit down to tea parties with five year olds. They **don't** sneak into a little girls room. They are **not** allowed to be alone with **her**. They do **not** enter the house without her parents knowledge."
Tendrils of black extended from the thing and I started to hear whispers in the back of my head. The cold in me however numbed it all and I continued to glare at it.
Slowly, the whispers faded. With an almost embarrassed nod and lowering of the... head perhaps, the thing got up and quietly slithered towards one of the shadows in the corner of the room slowly melting into it.
She looked at me angerly, I couldn't her objections or reasoning. In my head the same word was reverberating over and over. *He*, it was a *He* and alone with my baby. A *He* that could come and go as *he* pleases in her life... NEVER! | 2020-09-20T10:54:23 | 2020-09-20T09:32:39 | 567 | 89 |
[WP] Every once in a while, someone is born with maximum points in one stat. Max strength is feared and respected, max intelligence praised… but everyone underestimates max willpower. | *Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
Vilmer had several thoughts running through his head at any given time. But he always only had one goal. And right now, the goal was to break through
Vilmer was now had a tunnel that bore several dozen feet into the side of Mt. Fortress, as apt a name for a mountain as they came.
He knew why he was digging through this stone colossus. But he hadn’t thought about that reason since he started this little project. It didn’t matter right now; what was important were the endless strikes of his pickax against the stone. And when the tool began to wear down, what mattered then was to maintain or replace it. When his muscles protested against the constant beating, he rested. When his stomach growled, he ate. When his eyes drooped, he slept. When his bowels and kidneys acted up, he shat and pissed. When supplies ran low, he visited the nearest town to replenish them. When the tunnel risked collapse, he reinforced it.
And sometimes, though you will never catch him doing it yourself, he would sing.
This had been Vilmer's life for two years.
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
Perhaps, when his mind was swallowed by the rhythm of his work, Vilmer still thought a bit as to the circumstances that brought him here.
Maybe he could still remember the faces of Katcher the Wise, and Borter the Brutal.
They were among the Highest, those rare lucky few born with absolute supremacy in one aspect of humanity. Katcher was marked with intelligence and cunning, Borter with strength and brutality. They were among the elite of adventurers in the world.
Vilmer was Highest too; he was marked by the strength of will and sheer determination. He held less prestige than other Highest, which made him rather inexpensive to hire.
The quest was, in concept, simple; penetrate the legendary stronghold of the Ancients, the name of which had been lost with their civilization. Locals called the place Mt. Fortress, as it was indeed but a mountain hollowed out from the inside. Rumors and legends of what slept within changed like the seasons; precious treasure, vicious monsters, the secret to immortality, endless traps, a portal to another world. Maybe some combination of those, or something else entirely. But nobody believed that there was nothing.
In theory, the team was unstoppable; Borter could kill any monster, Katcher could solve any puzzle, and as support, Vilmer would at least be guaranteed to not run away. If there was treasure, then it would be split equally between them.
However, the theory would remain untested. Katcher had assumed that he would find whatever secret entrance the Ancients used to enter and exit Mt. Fortress. As it turned out, there was no secret entrance. It was simply a sheer, smooth mountain, without doors or caves or crevasses of any sort.
After a week of searching for some solution, Katcher and Borter decided to abandon the quest, offering Vilmer a generous supplemental to his pay for the inconvenience. He had asked instead for some food, Borter’s pickax, and for Katcher to write down everything he knew about excavation.
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
*Clink.*
***Crack.***
The tip of the pickax slipped through the stone. Wiggling the handle, Vilmer realized that there was some degree of open space just beyond his current position, though how much it was impossible to determine.
It took two full days of careful digging and debris removal, but eventually Vilmer was able to carve out an entrance just big enough for him to slip into.
He entered a stone chamber, which connected to a hallway that led deeper into Mt. Fortress.
Two years of his life, and he had accomplished his goal Vilmer allowed several minutes of solace. Then it was time to move onto the next step.
There was still work to be done yet. He would rest for a few days to allow his body to recover and resupply at the town before he would begin exploring in earnest.
Perhaps Vilmer would acquire some adventurers to accompany him. It would be a prudent course of action. Though, perhaps, not a necessary one. | They are the lucky ones, astounding good looks and unmeasured strength, marching through life like it was their destiny and right to have it served on a silver platter to them. They are the celebrities, they are the athletes, they are the scientist and they are the professors. They are everything that you and me are not. They are the shining star that reveals in the dark night of humanity, that life is in fact inherently unfair.
Scientist now say that they were born with "max stats" and that the only thing we can do is respect this fact and carry one. That's funny, coming from those born with max int.
What are we to do? You and me? Joe Smoes who have to live under the tyrannical boot of those that life deemed to be of greater preference than us. If we are to accept those words told to us by them, well it would to be just lie down and roll over. Live life like a medium dice roll, as it were, accept your factual mundacity and do not wail at your below-average stats.
This is bullshit.
See, I've come to discover something, in this new science that was born on life's built-in stats, it seems that something was glossed over. They break down the stats as such: Strength, Intelligence, Charisma, Beauty, Luck, Dexterity, and Perception. The recipes to your life, so they'd have you believe. They say that these things are you, they say that those are the shackles that tie you to this mortal ground and stop you from flying above legal airspace. But they forgot about something, they forgot about willpower.
They forgot about it because it is not a physical stat, it is not something that you can put under a microscope and analyze the genome of. It is you, it is me, it is *really* what we are. So, with absolutely no respect intended for those max-staters who have the boot on you, fuck them, and fuck the system that they created. They want to have maxed out stats, fine, let them have their beauty and strength, we'll max out our willpower and move the mountain of guilt that they have put upon us. We will max out our willpower and release the shackles of mundacity that they wrongly formed around you and led you to believe was nature. We will max out our willpower and build the foundations for a world not surrounded on the idea of a hidden, mechanical luck of life, but on the courageous heart of the human spirit.
So, let us move this rock up the hill in deft defiance and viral will. With this new-found "stat" we will create a new world for us to live upon. One where you can be happy with what life has allotted you, and one where you will know, with absolute certainty, that this life given to you is exactly that: It is yours.
\- Intro to the "Willpower Stat Manifesto."
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If you enjoyed check out my subreddit! r/mrsharks202 | 2021-09-22T08:35:54 | 2021-09-22T08:02:35 | 165 | 49 |
[WP] You realize you are immortal or more specifically that you cannot die. The issue is that you only realize this once the man who is attempting to torture you to death can't finish the job.
[removed] | “Well, now that is remarkable….”
I opened my eyes, coated in blood, to see my murderer standing in the doorway. He seemed even taller now that I was slumped into the fetal position in the corner of the small room he had kept me in for the last three days. He had his left arm wrapped around a tall, pale skinned woman; his right arm sat loose at his side gripping a pistol.
“It is not ‘remarkable.’ Just kill him,” the woman said with contempt.
“You are welcome to try.”
I coughed, a clump of blood filling my mouth. I took a deep breath and tried to speak – finding that it was easy to do so. “Please… just kill me… I have done nothing to you….”
The man removed his arm from the woman and took two steps closer to me, holding the pistol to my head. “Stand up.”
“I can’t… you know I can’t… you broke my legs.”
“Stand up, or I will shoot you in the balls.”
I caught a sob in my throat; all I wanted was for it to end. I knew my legs were broken from when he abducted me, he hit me with his car and shattered my femur. With trembling I slowly raised my leg.
I felt no pain.
I cringed and bent my knee, positioning my foot on the cold concrete.
I felt no pain.
Still fearful, I put weight down on my foot and began pushing myself up. I felt no pain and I easily stood to my full height. I was covered in blood, but no blood dripped out of me. I put my hand to the entrance wound in my chest that I was certain would kill me, and all I found was smooth skin.
I looked at my abductor with confusion as the edges of my vision struggled to steady. He backed away, keeping his pistol aimed at my head.
“I broke his legs. I beat him with the bat. I shot him in the lung.” Here he lowered the weapon slightly to study my face. “He died, I checked his pulse. Look at him now.”
The woman’s mouth dropped as she stepped forward to look me over. “She wanted his body delivered to her. Now what do we do?”
The abductor’s face twisted in anger. “He is fucking immortal and you’re worried about delivering his body?” His face softened a moment later as he seemed to ponder. “Clarence, I understand that right now you feel confused and vengeful. I want you to understand… there are worse things we could do to you than kill you. Having said that, I would propose that there are some ways we could approach this that would be mutually beneficial.”
“What’s going on? What have you done to me?”
He looked annoyed by my question, I felt vaguely apologetic for not being more impressive as an immortal murder victim.
“Clarence, you should be dead. I killed you. Over the course of about twenty-four hours I have watched your body completely heal itself. I realize that there is a lot for you to think about and wrap your mind around. I will be perfectly honest, I do not care how you come to terms with this. Nor do I want you to think that I have answers for you, I don’t. Here’s what I do have: an opportunity.
“Your sister hired me to capture, torture, and murder you. I did not ask questions, but she was happy to talk. My understanding is that your father is very ill and she would rather not compete with you over the inheritance. As far as the torture, well, maybe you can answer that one. She is going to pay me handsomely for your body.”
I nodded, my heart sinking. I knew my sister was a generally terrible person, but knowing that someone you grew up with paid a large sum of money to make sure your death was painful is still hard to swallow. Without realizing it, my head slumped and started staring at the floor.
“Here is my proposition: tomorrow I will shoot you in the lung again. You will die. It seems it takes about 24 hours for you to revive. In that time, I will deliver you to your sister and collect the money. I will leave you with a pistol and a knife. When you revive you will be able to ambush her and take your revenge. After that, I want you to call me… with your unusual ability I think we could make a lot of money together.”
I stared at the floor throughout his proposition. I was hungry. I was devastated. I was fairly certain I had soiled myself. I cannot really say that I cared what his proposition was, but I agreed to it.
I would never call him. I would not even get my revenge on my sister, I just wanted her to see me. Then I would see my dad one more time. From there, who knows? If I have this gift I’m not going to waste it hurting people.
This is an opportunity to help someone somehow, I know it.
If nothing else, I know I can put on one hell of a magic show. | There I was laid back in this guys ez chair covered in my own blood and a strong taste of iron in my mouth. Oh and my still beating heart in the hand of my personal torturer Mr Sukurov. We both stared wide eyed at the heart. He looked to me with anger.
"WHY ARE YOU ALIVE!?" He screamed in my face.
"Dude no screaming jeez." I couldn't answer him.
"ANSWER ME!" he screamed once more. *sigh*
"Honestly, I don't know. Only thing I do know is that I'm grateful and as you can see... or feel in your case is that I'm quite anxious about this situation so could you please put my heart back where it belongs?" I nodded down to the gaping hole in my chest. He responded In kind by throwing It at a wall and stamped on it. Lovely. He looked back to me to check if I was still breathing, his elevated level of annoyance seemed to verify that.
"Listen." His voice was suddenly very calm and hushed. "I have to make my superiors happy, they are only happy of they hear you screaming or if I show them your corpse." Well gee didn't that bit of news make me happy.
"I er... that's cool I can just pretend to be dead." I made a fake death face with my tongue sticking out. "See, they'll never know." He smacked me. Ow.
"Idiot! I need your screams. How do you want to scream?" He gestured to the various tools laid out before me on a silver tray. I had a great idea.
"Errr... that one." I said nodding to the tool I wanted him to use. He picked up the wrong thing. "No no the other one... on the right." This time he picked up the correct one. He stood beside me and inserted the...
**File data corrupt, report to archive room 2B for immediate analysis**
... I pulled the scalpel from out of his neck and looked back at my chair, it was a horrific site to behold. Im surprised he didn't figure out picking out that one certain tool would enable my eventual escape, it's a good thing I'm suddenly immortal that thing should have killed me at least 5 times. I stepped over his body and ran up the stairs, I had a damsel in distress look about me when I bumped into two patrolling guards who looked at me suspiciously.
"Erm..." What should I do? "HELP ME!" I cried out to them putting on my best girly voice. "There's a big rough man chasing me and he's got a knife!" I ran past them screaming with my hands in the air. That actually worked. I hid around a corner and popped my head back around, they were now chasing me. Signalling on their radio they called in backup to cut me off, there wasn't many places to run here and the only place I could run if I didn't want to be put back in that chair is the one place I didn't want to run to. If needs be though... I ran down the hall and turned a corner I would rather not have. I opened the door at the end and was greeted by a large woosh of wind knocking the guards back.
I was several thousand feet up in the air, good luck closing the door boys! I thought out loud before looking down. I gulped. *Here goes nothing*. I stepped over the edge.
____
More of my stupid stories at /r/inooxwritings | 2017-02-08T09:41:30 | 2017-02-08T09:13:02 | 300 | 25 |
[WP] All humans are born with a superpower. Those who don't have one are seen as sad rejects. You are one of these. While walking to school with a friend, he gets killed in front of you by a mugger. Right then and there, you snap. An almighty, horrifying power awakens from the depths of your soul. | "Hey, NoPo! I think you have something of mine!"
I groaned and stopped in my tracks. That was Shank's line, which he always said just before robbing me. Shank was a particularly nasty Powered who took special care to antagonize me at every turn. It didn't help that he was dangerous, with the power to form blades from any of his appendages.
I slowly turned around and reached for my wallet before realizing that the figure behind me wasn't Shank at all. It was Echo, one of the few Powereds who didn't prey on us NoPoes at every turn. Granted, her power wasn't anything outright deadly: she could mimic any voice or sound, and throw her voice relatively far. I suppose this made her my best friend.
"Well, NoPo? Are you gonna cough it up, or am I gonna have to give you another belly button?" she continued, still using Shank's voice.
I slowly withdrew my hand from my pocket, revealing only my middle finger, fully extended. At this we both broke out laughing, Echo finally using her normal voice.
I said before that I thought of Echo as my best friend, but that's not entirely true. It'd be more accurate to say that I was madly, hopelessly in love with her. But I couldn't exactly tell her that. No way would she ever want a guy like me, with no powers to speak of.
As the laughter finally died down, I noticed a figure approaching from the same direction Echo had just come from.
"Hey, NoPo! Got something for me?" demanded the real Shank.
"Oh, god. Stay here, Null. I've got this."
Null. Another daily reminder that I was nothing. Children were always named when their powers manifested, around age five. Those who never developed powers were named accordingly.
"Well, look who got himself a girlfriend," came the taunting voice of Shank. "And a Powered, no less. Maybe *you've* got something for me?"
"Like hell I do," Echo replied.
"That's a shame. Guess I gotta rob both of you now."
"Hey! What are you kids doing?"
That was the voice of Boomer, Shank's father. But I immediately knew it wasn't actually him. Unfortunately, so did Shank.
"You aren't fooling me with that again, Echo," Shank declared, but only after looking around, just to be safe. "You aren't fooling me with that *ever* again," he said as he suddenly lunged forward, impaling Echo through the neck with his hand, now a three-foot-long blade.
And just like that, she was gone. She made a soft gurgling noise, and then the light faded from my friend's eyes. I couldn't do anything but stand there, staring at the lifeless body of my only friend, unable to tear my eyes away. Even Shank seemed appalled by what he had just done.
"W-well, NoPo, you... you wanna put up a fight, too?"
I heard him, but I couldn't understand his words. And then my eye started to burn. It burned with a pain no mere tears could bring. After about half a second, all I could see out of my left eye was a deep shade of purple. And my right eye saw Shank crumple to the ground, a hole in his chest. A hole made by my right hand, which was now a three-foot-long blade. The glow in my left eye slowly faded, and I found that I had Shank's power now. Any appendage I wanted to, I could turn into a steel blade. I still felt a slight tingle behind my eye as well, and I instinctively knew that Shank's wasn't my only power.
My name is Null. It's a good name, and well-suited to my ability. | You'd think two kids with holes in their shirts and worn out shoes wouldn't be bothered on their way to school. But that's exactly what happens. Again and again. My friend Kyle is the only reason that I make it everyday. The living redbull they call him. He has this power over addrenilin. With it he can shoot out red lightning or have it emanate around him like an aura. With a little touch someone has a sugar rush. If he gives it a kick they fly off and fall like a brick. Any more and the closest hospital is saint Moore.
I however was thought to be powerless. But I had constantly had all the symptoms that someone would have if they over used their power. And it never let up. It baffled the doctors. Even the ones that could see anothers abilities didn't see anything in me. So they gave me drugs to inhibit power use and they helped a good bit.
Eventually I did discover my power. Kyle and I were talking to school. There's always this dark part of the road where kids shoot out the lights with their BB guns. And there was a man waiting for us in the shadows. He had this power to use the air and cut things from a distance. In four different swishes of his finger, before we even realized what was going on our backpacks fell to the ground. He didn't even cut our shirts underneath. He told us to scram. Kyle then used his power, hit him with a good jolt. But instead of the usual harmless reaction the old man's power errupted from him violently slashing everything around him deeply. Kyle was hit first, I saw him explode in a sea of red. Right after would have been me, but then it happened.
Everything froze for a second. I had a solid visualization of everything that was happening around me. It felt as if I could rewind time. Except it wasn't time that I was rewinding. I caught the old man's power and flung it back at him with an an equal but opposite force. He was nothing but a red mist. I looked over and Kyle was all back together eyes wide with a a red like scar running down his body.
But I wasn't done.
I looked at that mist and pulled it all back together. And there appeared an old man with a dozen or so red scars across his body. He collapsed.
And then the birds resumed chirping. | 2019-07-15T16:48:12 | 2019-07-15T16:16:44 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] You don't sleep. Instead you die every day and 8 hours later you wake up in the body of a person who has 16 hours left to live. | I'm... Strange.
For all of my life I've been moving from person to person. When I was born, I was a baby. But a few hours later I woke up as an old man.
I had all of his memories, I had all of his emotions, and his impairments. I found it hard to hear, see, move.
Being young, it was hard to formulate my own thoughts, so I let the waves of the old man's memories drift over me and teach me.
A few hours, maybe three, maybe eight, maybe nore;passed and I began to ache in the general area of my stomach.
"what's going on?" I asked myself. Or at least I tried to.
At that moment organ systems in me failed. I died. I realized the mortality of humans: I'd just witnessed death. I realized the frailty of my species. I began to ponder this and a plethora of questions my death had raised in me.
And I moved on. No longer was I an old man. I opened my eyes, and was young instead. I looked down at myself.
I wasn't an athlete, that's for certain, but I seemed healthy enough.
"Ahh, a normal life. Perhaps the old man was just an anomaly," I thought to myself.
I looked around the room. I noticed the posters on the walls and the pile of books stacked messily on a desk and realized I was probably a university student. From downstairs, I heard a voice,"Joe, hurry up if you want a ride!"
I looked into the memories of my... Host for lack of a better term... And realized the voice was of my friend Jonathon.
"Coming!" I yelled, and rushed out of my room.
I got into his car, and he drove me to uni. I once again looked at Joe's memories. He was a bio student.
I entered class just in time for the lecture on photosynthesis to begin.
The professor began to drone on about the "upper red limit" and how it limited photosynthesis.
From the back of the room a weak voice objected, and discussed how the professor was wrong.
The girl, whose name wasnt in Joe's memories, was pretty. She had black hair and a smooth face, and as she refuted the professor, her face lit with a rebellious smile.
She said, "I'm sorry professor, but a recent study shows that Chlorophyll F can detect frequencies that are near infrared. You're teaching us incorrect information."
The professor's face grew red and he sent the girl out of class.
For the rest of class, all i could think of was the girl and how pretty she was.
When the lecture ended I searched the campus for her, and found her outside an ice cream shop.
I asked her,"Would you be interested in some coffee later?"
Being young in emotional maturity, I didn't know what to expect. I was delighted when she said yes.
She wrote her number on a piece of paper and gave it to me. I walked backwards, facing her and leaving the ice cream shop. I waved, and walked back too far.
A car hit me, and all was silent.
I had died again.
This time, I contemplated love. But once again, I decided to move on.
I don't know how many times I've died now. Many times I end up as a teen or college student and I see the girl I thought was cute. Many times I've talked to her, become friends. Every time I die.
I learn more about her each time as well. Her name is Christine. She dances. She's smart, which I did discover the first time I met her. But I keep dying before I can really get to know her.
I've figured out this game. I die and become another person doomed to die within the next sixteen hours. A cycle. Why am I punished such?
Another day, another death. I fear who I'll be next time. I've woken up. Who am I?
I peer at my memories, and with horror, I realize who I am this time.
I'm my love, Christine. I cry, for I know she must die. But why?
With horror I take a peek at her thoughts. And I see, crystal clear, that her death is my fault. She's tired of having her crushes die everytime. She's come to forsake love, and has settled into a state of sadness.
I can't take it anymore. I decide to break the cycle. No longer am I bound by 16 hours.
Let the time be now.
And so, with my loves death, I shall also part.
OK I wrote this on my phone so the formatting is fucked up. I've tried fixing the spacing but somethings are still messed up. Nice prompt OP! |
Awake.
Room’s bright - this bed’s comfortable.
The air’s cool and crisp.
Haven’t felt this nice in a while.
There’s a woman lying next to me - instinct tells me she’s my wife.
Trust your instincts. If there’s anything I’ve learned being stuck in this reincarnation loop-de-loop it’s that. Instincts will tell you all you need to know.
Once you relax into character you’ll be able to feel your way around their lives. You’ll feel their relationships. Their warmth, love, torment, or qualms. You’ll feel the comfort of routines and the pangs of situations that form out of the norm.
Trust your instincts and you’ll know where to go and where you’ll have to be to greet the inevitable.
My body’s telling me I need to piss so I slip out of bed and following feelings of habit to the bathroom. I’m peeing standing up. I guess that makes me a ‘male.’ I’ve practically been it all at this point. Male, female, everything in between. They’re all just different flavours of reality.
I glance at myself in the mirror. I try not to make too much of the moment where I see the skin I’m in for the first time - lest they get a feeling that there’s something about today. I have to admit, though, I think that feeling is inevitable. Best we can do is not make it too obvious. From what I assess I’m a middle aged man - white - brown hair - clean shaven (that means shaving is part of the routine - damn it, I hate shaving). This bathroom’s pretty nice - everything here seems pretty comfortable. Sucks we can’t stick around.
I get out of the bathroom and make my way down the hall. I’m feeling a mixture of love and excitment. I get to what I feel is a bedroom door - it has a sticker of a Batman symbol.
Fuck.
Time and time again I hate this part. It’s hard not to feel something. In the short time I’m here I inherit all these strings of being. Everything that truly makes a person. When behind the door I see this child sleeping in their bed I’m overwhelmed with warmth of love. I can’t really make much out of what I see. Essentially it’s a mound of covers with a head peeking out lying on a pillow. Kid looks like a boy who’s about nine years old. Can’t see much but - as intincts strongly dictate - I fucking love this kid.
These are always the worst cases. The cases where it’s supposed to be some routine normal day just like every other day. Where nothing new or different is supposed to happen - though my presence here denotes the opposite.
It all sucks either way but if I had to choose I’d rather go the route of the bed-ridden adult diapered cancer patient than whatever the hell this is going to be. Sure, it’s painful as fuck - but I spend my whole shift lying in bed surrounded (sometimes) by people who know what’s up. And I get to do it all without having to get up to go to the bathroom.
Gave myself an hour to write the following - I apologize for it being incomplete (I feel I could've gone on and on with this prompt). I'd love to hear your feedback!
| 2018-06-20T08:44:47 | 2018-06-20T08:28:17 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] There's a bear—an actual bear—working in the cubicle next to yours and everyone is treating it like it's normal. The bear approaches you, coffee mug in its hand. | “Hey Larry, catch the game last night?”
I blink “you’re a bear.”
“Good old Larry. Always making jokes.” The bear chuckles then sips his coffee. “I think the defence was shit but boy was our—“
“Like, an actual bear.” I continue.
The bear looks shocked “Larry are you okay? I thought we were over this.”
“You’re a talking bear.”
“Alright. I’m getting Crystal.” The bear shakes his head “just talk to him, Growls. You’ll make friends with him. Larry will get over the fact you’re a bear. Pfft, shows what they know”
After a few seconds the bear returns with Crystal— a human woman and also my boss.
“Larry. How many times have we had this conversation?” She sighs.
“I... have no idea what we’re talking about.” I confess.
“You went to the meeting. You signed off on the anti-discrimination form. You were Growls secret Santa last year.” She explained.
“You got me a jar of honey.” Growls replies.
I laugh “oh, that’s funny. Cause you’re a bear.”
“I wanted a hardcover edition of Catcher In The Rye!” Growls exclaims.
“Larry. I don’t know how many times this harassment file has been brought up. You’re not allowed to discriminate against other employees regardless of race, religion, whether they’re a bear or not, you just can’t judge.” Crystal told me. “Okay?”
I think a moment.
“If you apologize to Growls then I can have peace of mind.” She smiles.
“How do you hold a pencil?” I ask the bear.
So a few months go by and I finally get an interview at a well-respected newspaper firm. The interviewer asks why I was let go from my last job.
“Well, get this, there was this employee we had. And I don’t know how nobody cared, but he was a bear.”
The interviewer blinks “and?”
“And!” I exclaim “and he’s a bear! Like a honey-eating, hibernating, Baloo-looking bear.”
The interviewer takes a breath and stands up. “Sir. Those discriminatory words are not welcome in this workplace. I have you know I’m half bear on my moms side and I take offence to those terrible stereotypes. Honestly, I’m ashamed at this world that there are still people like you around.”
I think for a moment “you don’t look half bear.”
“Get out of my office!” | The bear compliments your hair, and offers to get a drink with you. You are taken aback by the bears politeness, and agree. Weeks pass, and you and the bear are in a nice relationship together. You aren’t entirely sure how you feel about him, but you can’t stop thinking about him. One day, while drinking together, the bear asks if you want to go out with him. You do, of course, and while nothing changes about your schedule, you grow closer to the bear. Thanksgiving comes around, and you get nervous. Your parents heard about your date, and want you to bring them to thanksgiving dinner, but you haven’t yet told your parents you’re dating a bear, and you aren’t sure how they would feel about that. You confide in the bear, and he reassures you with a hug, and tells you that your parents will love you anyway. During thanksgiving dinner, your sister arrives from college, as her bus had to deal with traffic. She arrives at the table, hugs your parents, and sits down, then she notices the bear you’ve been dating and exclaims “hey bro, I never knew you were gay! Congrats dude!” | 2021-03-16T23:54:02 | 2021-03-16T23:46:25 | 237 | 31 |
[WP] Be afraid. For when the gods created man, they created him not in their own image, but to appease what lurks in the void. | "So," said God through a mouthful of ambrosia, "what are you looking for?" The void creature shrugged its nine shoulders.
"I mean, it's kinda hard to quantify, like... we feel you got *close* with pigs, but we want something less," the void creature twirled several of its hands while it struggled for the word.
"Mealy?" offered God. The void creature nodded the most lateral head in affirmative.
"Yes! Yes. *Mealy*. Pigs are just so... mealy. And the hooves," the void creature's gullet shuddered, spraying a small amount of marking fluid on God's floor. God pondered this for a minute, before popping another spoonful of ambrosia into his mouth. He swallowed, and cleared his throat.
"Yea, okay, alright, how about this," he spidered his fingers over the Create-A-Thing^© , and a wisp of material drifted out. The wisp roiled around before sprouting four hairless legs with feet, a big fat gut, and a dopey pig-ish face. The void creature nodded a more central head tentatively.
"Okay, okay," each of the void creature's heads collectively frowned. God held up a finger.
"No, alright, no, I know what you're saying let me just," he sucked in the gut, de-pigged the face. He added some hair to the head. The void creature still nodded a little tentatively. "Okay, tell me what you're thinking," said God.
"It's just a little... we're tired of all these quadripeds, if we're being honest," said the void creature. A small sulfur fire erupted from an armpit orifice. "Oh, excuse me," said the void creature. God swiped at the air with his hand.
"C'mon, dude, ugh," said God, but he smiled in spite of himself. "Alright how about this: bipedal, piggish face, head hair, and a 50/50 surprise between the lower legs. You know, like a little adventure in each bite." God stood the pig-creature up, and drew a crude sausage between its legs. The effigy immediately began to play with the sausage. "Whoa, Jesus," said God, who wiped the sausage for the time being. "That's, uh, we'll work that glitch out in post." The void creature's several mouths smiled, baring several rows of serrated fangs dripping with venom.
"Okay, one more tweak, if you don't mind," said the void creature, holding out several hooved palms. God gestured for it to continue. "We would like one territory on Earth where the pig-creatures fatten themselves beyond any reasonable excess, so when you eat them they kind of pop on the first bite, you know, like a really perfect grape?" God sighed and nodded.
"Oooh, grapes, I really got *that* one right, huh?" said God. Both sat for a moment admiring the perfect grape in their minds' eyes. God clapped his hands once to signify a deal in progress. "Alright, you got it. I'll whip up a couple prototypes and toss 'em down this afternoon. What can you do for me?"
"Well," said the void creature, desperate to control its glee, "I just came up with this thing where the sentient lifeform--maybe even this pig creature?" he offered. God looked at the ceiling, furrowed his brow, and nodded, "so they invent 'religion', which is basically where they all come up with crazy rules for worshipping you and offering you tons of cool gifts, and you know, occasionally sacrificing virgins--"
"Oh you know I love virgins!" exclaimed God.
"--right? And so basically you have an endlessly entertaining struggle between your sentient lifeforms about how awesome you are." The void creature held several arms out in an inscrutable gesture to God. God nodded.
"That's a good goddamned deal, right there!" he said. | There is much solitude, and darkness, and quiet in the deepness of space. But that is not all that lies there. Probe deeply enough, and you will find the Gods, if you know how to see them. But go even further, and you will find an unnamed creature. It is older than the Gods themselves. It is blacker than the universe. It is quieter than the vacuum of space. But the Gods hear it, for it is why men exist.
Humanity is a colony that has been carefully nurtured. Each and every God has watched with care as the homosapien story has unfolded. Every volcanic eruption, each gust of wind, and every drop of rain is as it should have been. It is as the unnamed creature instructed.
The gods would not have built planets, would not have shaped stars, would not have manufactured life, without the word of the unnamed creature. Its voice is silent and loud. It penetrates all. Humanity knows it as "consciousness." That voice that sings, instructs, and dares men to do as they do. People strive, and flourish, and *dance the merry dance* that's whispered in their ears. It is to no worthwhile end. How futile their efforts are.
He has witnessed this great creature too, has man. He watches in his telescope. That grand and wondrous cosmic event he calls "black holes". Their terrifying beauty.
How strange how many things find death a thing of beauty.
Perhaps it is a final sense of admiration, a wry regard for the glory of what might best you. For surely as the night is black that strange phenomena will end him.
The unnamed creature is hungry. Ravening. And Gods are not renewable. Their creations - such as man - however, are. And the terrible creature has many mouths: mouths that start inside a star; inhale it, and everything around it; meteors, comets, planets, civilisations. For the black hole is the maw of the beast, and man, for all of his wonder before the great "black hole," is in fact looking in to the mouth of the predator that will consume him.
Each and every hole pulls in another world of sentient, intelligent beings. And the Gods keep making more, lest it be their turn.
And all the while men try to search for other intelligences in the universe. But before their broadcast will reach a young, incipient, growing crop of life, they will be gone. For earth is nearly ripe, and the unnamed creature is growing hungry. In a year; 10 years; perhaps a hundred; the beast will arrive to feed. | 2015-09-08T15:00:13 | 2015-09-08T14:56:46 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] When aliens invaded earth, they expected humanity to reach for nuclear weapons. They had experience in this, they knew how to deal with a few warheads. What they were not prepared for was the quantity possessed by humanity. | "Attention Earth. We are the Skonshor, and we offer death or slavery."
Admiral Gerd, Commander of the Fifth Skonshor Battlefleet, was amused by the replies he received.
"Cute". Somehow it was always the Level 5 species who wanted to fight and went straight to nuclear threats. No-one ever wanted to surrender when the Skonshor fleet arrived in orbit and started dictating terms. Well, except the Fnarl, of course. They had surrendered immediately and had become a subserviant species serving as a carnal adjunct to the Skonshors. But all other species needed a lesson first, just like the Earthians were about to receive. They'd become pretty reasonable and amenable to surrender in just a few minutes, when their defences had been shattered and their pride in their military ability had been broken.
"Scan the planet for nuclear weapons, prepare to engage and destroy them". His Skonshor bridge crew leapt into action, as did their Fnarl pets. Each Skonshor was permitted to bring two personal Fnarl on board. They were used primarily to sate mating desires, but also received rudimentary training so theey could assist their masters in their duties. Gerd of course had an entire harem for his own personal use, and all of the dirty or dangerous engineering tasks were performed by Fnarl. It hadn't been like that when Gerd had been a cadet, of course. Things were different then. That had been before the Fnarl submission, and he and his cadet mates had taken pride in taking on dangerous tasks and vied with each other in completing them. Gerd had finished First Cadet and this had helped structure the trajectory of his career. The academies weren't the same these days, Fnarl were everywhere, it seemed. Still his crew may not be as tough and Skonshor-like as he and his class-mates had been, but he was proud of them all the same. Ready to fight, willing to kill. That is the Skonshor way.
"There is something wrong with the scanners, my Lord" reported Major Kerd. "It is reporting thousands of nuclear weapons, and that can't be right."
Gerd shot Kerd a stern look, but inside he smiled to himself. Now I'll show you why I am in charge, why I am the best, why I command! Once the Earthian surrender had been processed, he could look forward to promotion to Ferd, or maybe even Eerd! It had happened before, and Gerd was sure the subjugation efforts of his Fifth Battlefleet had not gone un-noticed on Skonshor iteself.
"Zoom in on one nuclear weapon, and let's take a look", Gerd used the intonations of masterful yet benevolent instruction. A large 3-D image appeared in the bridge, and Kerd zoomed down into one nuclear weapon. "Look my Lord, the sensors indicate this is just one of many in a large field of silos". It was true, something was evidently interfering with the sensors. They seemed to show that the nuclear weapon they were looking at was just one of - wait a minute - "Zoom in further" commanded Gerd, his voice now using the inflections of grim command. The image changed as the nuclear weapon seems to grow and expand as Kerd zoomed in. And there, impossibly, were eight individual nuclear warheads inside the weapon.
"How many like these have the sensors found?"
"Over twelve thousand, my Lord".
Merciful Aerd that couldn't be possible. That would be enough to destroy the eighteen Skonshor Homeworlds utterly. He turned to Kerd's Fnarl, "Scan the planet's crust for uranium deposits!"
Uranium, that most elusive of elements. So rare that even the Fifth Battlefleet carried only seventeen nuclear devices to augment their particle beam weaponry. Thousands of nuclear devices would require colossal amounts of raw uranium ore, to be patiently sifted in the turbulence of the heavy water carousels. It simply wasn't possible. Was it?
The Fnarl at the scanner stood rigid as a board and emitted a keening sound that Fnarls squeaked out when they were excited or disturbed. Gerd jumped up from his Admiral's Throne and pushed the Fnarl aside and took over the scanner himself. By Aerd and Berd, the crust of this planet had multiple desposits that were huge, spread out over wide areas. Holy Aerd. He was in orbit around the single richest uranium deposit in the known universe! Gerd could taste that promotion, he could hear the cheers, he know what to do.
He broadcast to the entire battlefleet. "Skonshors, hear me! I am Gerd and I command! This planet has the richest uranium deposits ever discovered. We shall conquer and become rich beyond our wildest dreams. We shall - the words in his throat seemed to gag on the large dagger which had been stuck into his chest by Kerd's Fnarl. The Fnarl leaned closer and shouted "Order Ninety Nine!". Every ship in the fleet heard it, and the Fnarls in each ship acted immediately, attacking their Skonshor masters with daggers and wrenches and tooth and claw. Shortly after, the newly Fnarl ships started to report in one by one. In some ships the Fnarl attack failed, and they had to be obliterated by the concentrated fire of the other ships. Within twenty minutes, the fleet in orbit about Earth was entirely Fnarl.
The Fnarl had been long waiting for this, the opportunity to destroy the Skonshor hegemony. The Fnarl had understood the Skonshor nature right from the start, and had bet the farm on surrender and compliance. They had waited for a full generation to find a species that had the capacity to fight and defeat the Skonshors - once they had been given a crash course in modern physics and super-luminal travel by the Fnarl. And lo, here was a species with not one hundred warheads, or even two hundred, but thousands of them!
"Attention Earth. We are the Fnarl, and we offer an alliance." | The vacuum of space, for only a moment, bloomed a brilliant shade of gold. The light saturated the interior of Mu war ship. The commander of this vessel, Commander, starred at the imploding explosion of the war head they had just neutralized and were now molding into an energy core. She thought to herself of the resources this planet would bestow upon them.
It had been a long time since they had come across another race intelligent enough to create such a weapon of mass destruction. But with a girk, she also thought of how unfortunate such organisms must be to have caught the eye of their queen.Her wispy wings unfurled as she flew up from the vessel's view port to the station of control.
"We are landing." Commander gave with her natural born sense of authority. "Organizer, prepare all drones for a terrestrial conquest. Artillerists, for this planet our queen has birthed drones of weapon capacity 4, they are to be generated to withstand this planet's dihydrogen oxide..."
Her commands went on for each class of drone. Upon completion, she turned to the wingless four armed duo that seemed to be having a heated discussion. Entering their sector, the commanders helm like protrusions just barely scraped the ceiling. These two were smaller than her and as such, their work space as well.
"Good Newser, what is the good news?" She asked. Her pressence halting the two's discussion.
"The ... energy core will be done molding in 2.5 cycles, commander."
"Bad Newser, what is the bad news?"
Both of the Newsers glanced at each other.
"T-the natives have armed a second war head."
The commander's hollow sockets widened. "...WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVE A SECOND WAR HEAD!?" The entire ship went quiet. Every class of worker stopped their actions as the words of their tongue reverberated through their heads.
"t-they h-have 2."
The commander's aura radiated a familiar coldness, one the bad newser knew all too well. Her wispy wings altered their shape slightly into a sharp edge and the bad newser was beheaded in an instant. As the commander grumbled out of their workspace, the bad newser's head regenerated a reasonable function their queen had given to a creature birthed to deliver bad news.
They had a second war head. This news shook the commander to her core. She had to deliver this news to the queen. Taking a pod to the mother ship, she rushed to her queen's chambers. Though the guards allowed her to pass, her movement was instantly restricted upon entry as she was levitated high into the air to meet 12 large glowing eyes.
**"Dear child, why are you not with our front lines preparing to invade? You were birthed a commander, not a guard were you not? Have you come to report a defect in your sequence? To be rebirthed."**
While the commander may have strong pressence anywhere else, in front of the queen she was the equivalent of any other drone. "M-mother, they have ... 2 w-war heads." The commander dropped to the ground, released from the Queen's grasp she gasped for helium. ^(¬‿¬) ^(now you have a good idea of how they sound)
The queen stiffened, her scales turning pale. **"Researcher, is the native we abducted still living?"**
A slender class with a glossy carapace kneeled, "Yes, mother. We have not began the studies."
**"Bring it to me. I will birth a translator to decipher their language and negotiate our terms of surrender."**
No one questioned why, they were dealing with a species capable of creating 2 war heads. While fearless, they were not stupid. They wouldn't be able to stop another for 2.5 cycles after all.
The researcher drone brought in the white and black being. The translator hatched and instantly begin deciphering it's language, a task that took but only a minute. With utter haste they shot a vile containing their surrender onto the planet
#Earth
The President looked at the vial the general had brought to him. He took out the paper within and unfurled it to read its content:
> *Moo moo*
General: "... They're taunting us sir."
#Mu Ship
The commander stood beside her sister, Researcher.
"... Do you think it worked?" She asked her sister, however she grew pale as her question was immediately answered by the sight of the royal badnewser scurrying in.
"My queen, my queen! I can confirm they have atleast 3 war heads total ... because they're headed our way."
The Queen's eyes glew. The badnewser exploded. Not long after, the Mu fleet followed suit. | 2022-11-10T10:55:46 | 2022-11-10T09:37:08 | 539 | 37 |
[WP]: Intergalactic olympics are gathering. All creeds and cultures of the galaxy are arriving and greeting each other. Suddenly a fleet of spaceships appears, blasting We Will Rock You. Everyone freezes. The humans are here. | Lord Kraagr of the Luthupion race stood in the manager box with the rest of the species galactic Olympic managers. Currently everyone else there was huddles around the human. A old man with a grin plastered over his face. Human inferior in size and yet so confident in themselves. How? He cleared his throat as he walked over to the dispersing crowds as the horns of the first race, the marshoopians walking into the stadium with their traditional cries of their people. He stood in front of the human as he shook hands with the last manager and turned towards Lord Kraagr with a smile and an inviting hand. Kraagr took his hand in silence and squeezed perhaps too hard as they shook hands in friendly competition yet the human never quivered, squeezing back as hard as he could with a that grin still spreading wider. Humans were such competitive species after all.
'I take It you know who I am? But regardless I am Lord Kraagr of the Luthupion race from the planet Hex'rar, nice to meet you manager of human's' Kraagr introduced as the human chucked as they let go of each others hands, the humans hand bright red from the rushing of blood. they were rather fragile as well.
'I am Mr Mercury, Louise Mercury' He introduced as turned towards the stadium but still keeping his body language in focus of Kraagr.
'Don't be deceived though. I guess you could say I am the ambassador of the humans from the planet earth, not mercury from our solar system.' he continued with that smile as Kraagr join him besides the window. His mighty race had just past, blaring the horns of the winds of reksraska. A traditional tune of war and competion. Kraagr turned towards the humans following just behind who stood still in the lines of the track in the arena. Kraagr laughed as the humans stood in measly ranks, he turned towards Mr Mercury with a cruel grin.
'Tell me, Mercury. How will the humans present themselves to us?' he gloated as he crossed his arms watching the ranks below. Mercury only laughed as they watched banner bearers in the 4 corners pulled out the major country flags of earth and started to wave them as the crackles of the stadium speakers crackled as interference took hold of it. The various species of aliens and competitors watched as the humans held all eyes captive as they all simultaneous did the same motion.
Slap slap clap, slap slap clap.
They would slap their knees with grins in their faces and clap their hands as the speakers themselves started to vibrate the same slap slap clap. The audience started to join in as the banner bearers started to swing their flags from left to right. The excitement as the human race. The newest race to the galactic Olympics made their entrance.
The lead human pulling down a mic from his head set as waited for his cue.
Mr mercury turned towards Lord Kraagr and raised his eyebrows as he address him.
'The way any inferior species should present themselves. The loudest'
| To Glibs we glued their ship doors shut,
and then in track passed their slow strut,
We won and drank pabst behind their moon
and threw our cans till half passed noon.
Then galactic patrol had told us to stop
so we flew so fast their splooters dropped.
To Jorni Trali's respectful race,
we'd never spit into her face.
Instead we sent our donkey Jim,
to show her good times filled with vim.
The Trali fishes we can't outpace
they threw that shit right at our face -
they pulled poor Jim into their ship
and sent him spinning atop their blimp.
We mourned old Jim but not for long,
It was time for archery to stomp the Clongs.
We sent old Ellison's children's brood
with a recurve bow with a curve like the moon.
Old Ellison's children's grandson's kid
aimed 40 pecs passed the coil and missed
but shooting Vibrilum up at the stars
feels way too different from Earth on Mars.
Thank god we froze Tony Yoka's fists,
cuz Venus has this sport called Tris,
old Tony's hands slapped that volcano good,
beat waggly armed Tris Dzeri Wohd.
It sucks tho man on the way back home,
them Glibs got pissed left one last troll -
it went to our ships panel while we slept
and made us list so far to the left.
Now we've got 5 more years till home,
and our beers are fuckin almost gone,
but that's alright the troll seems cool,
we gave him Donkey's stable room. | 2018-04-28T09:34:24 | 2018-04-28T08:40:01 | 48 | 24 |
[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" | The Priest produced a bright red, sparkly button nestled in a grey box from the sleeve of his long robe.
“Just press it and it’ll all be taken care of, like so.” He snapped his fingers, for emphasis.
“Right-o” I answered, but just as I was about to press it, I hesitated. “Waiiiiiiit a tick. Why do I have to press it?”
“Well...” He began “You ARE the Chosen One... It’s your job.”
“But it’s just a button, right?”
“Yes...” The priest left a slight drawl at the end of his sentence, as if he didn’t quite know where the conversation was heading.
“So, anyone with fingers could theoretically press it.” I paused for a moment. “Anyone with nubs, really. Hell, some poor stumpy bastard with no legs or arms could come in here and slap it with his cock. So why do I have to do it?”
“It’s...” The Priest was struggling with this. I don’t think he was used to people questioning things. It’s one of the marvels of religion, people just sort of accept what you tell them if you’re wearing the right set of robes. He even looked down to make sure he was wearing the set of robes that said “Why, yes, I am a Priest and everything I have to say is, indeed, exceedingly important”. “Look, it’s just what you’re supposed to do, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to press it!”
“I’m not supposed to!”
“Why? Because of some prophecy? Because of something some dead bloke wrote out in some piece of paper at the shit end of time? Have you ever heard stories of that place? They were goin’ around cuttin’ heads and snippin women’s clits! You really wanna follow those sorts of degenerates and perverts?”
“I...” He was quite clearly doubting himself.
I put a friendly arm around him. “Look mate, I say, fuck the prophecy and fuck whoever said it. You’ve got as much right to save the world as me. You press the button.”
The Priest eyed the button. It was rather shiny. “Surely... One press wouldn’t hurt?” He looked at me for approval. I nodded confidently and moved away slightly.
He pressed the button. Like a bolt from the blue, a bolt came out of the blue and turned him into a pile of smoldering ash, the button sitting comfortably atop the pile.
I took the button and brushed the dust off of it. In the middle of the button had appeared the words “Whoever pressed this button wasn’t the Chosen One, so they can fuck right off.”
“Well, glad I didn’t press it.” I said to myself, as I pocketed the button.
With the Priest taken care of and the button in my possession, I snapped my fingers and blew a hole in the wall of the Church, floating away to begin my conquest. It feels good to be the Dark Lord particularly when, after a hundred thousand years of defeats, you’ve finally got some proper fucking brains in your head. | My eyes darted to the button. Fixated on it. I took a deep breath as I slowly pushed my hand out towards the button.
All it takes in life to make the most difficult decisions is 20 seconds of faith...right?
As the button pushed in, my eyes slowly shut.
I opened my eyes to feel gears winding, cogs spinning, air blowing all around me.
"What is happening?!" - I fearfully asked.
"Just let it happen, let the air flow through you, believe in it" - bellowed the priest
A gush of wind raised my arms up by my side. Pushed on my back to raise me off the ground inch by inch. My eyes clenched shut. I was flying vertically. My body lay horizontally. Higher and higher. The cold wind raised me whilst my sweat dropped below me. I accepted it. I opened my eyes. Opened my hands. Palms faced out. The wind pushed my legs over my head. 100 feet above the ground. The priest looking up with pride.
**Whoooooosh**
The sword came from my left. Infront of my eyes. I saw my reflection in it's blade. Caught in my right hand. I grip it tight. I was in a free fall now.
The fear replaced by adrenaline. The doubt replaced with belief. I land down on my right knee. Sword in hand. The priest looks on at me.
"How do you feel?" - he asked, knowing the answer
I look up at him. I smirk.
"Let's put him to sleep for another 5000 years shall we?" | 2020-11-09T12:45:40 | 2020-11-09T10:15:58 | 286 | 118 |
[WP] Suddenly across the globe, large, feathered, rotted corpses begin to drop out of the sky. They are soon identified to be Angels. | "Daddy, what is that?" my daughter ask, her voice quivers slightly as she points her finger towards the sky. I pull her wagon to the sidewalk and snap my head towards where she's pointing.
What in the hell...
There is a corpse falling down at a meteoric speed. It resembles a human; all four limbs motionless as it descends down towards the earth. When it starts closing in on impact, it becomes very apparent that we are witnessing something other worldly.
My adrenaline starts surging through my veins; my body shivers with fear. I scoop my daughter up off her feet and push off the pavement with my back foot with all the force I can muster up and began to sprint to our house.
"Chelsea, take Olive and go in the basement now. Just turn the TV on and stay there! Do not move!" I yell, I can feel the blood in my face dissipate. It must have frightened my wife, my face being that pale and all. Before she can even ask what's going on, I'm already on my way in securing our house.
"Ok, all the doors are locked." I yell down the basement hallway as I sprint by towards the front door, "I'll be back in a little bit!"
I had eyes on where that thing landed. I had an array of feelings hit me as I watched the creature fall lifelessly down towards our earth. One may think I am foolish for jumping to conclusions or making baseless assumptions but I felt an overpowering sensation of happiness hit me. I can hardly begin to explain it but I do know one thing. I have to have some answers.
It was near the old trail off of 72nd. I began to run again, adrenaline still at full blast. It's only a quarter mile down the road past the entrance of our neighborhood, so I get there with a blistering pace. There the creature lies; I can see the golden feathers radiating from thirty feet away.
Euphoria overtakes me again and my body halts to a violent stop. I can't move an inch; I am straining now, every fiber and ligament in my body is trying to push forward. My face feels like it's being smashed flat into a solid brick wall. The pain is excruciating but I can't retreat or advance. I am stuck. My hands slowly lift from my sides and I place my palms on the invisible barrier and exert all my energy into one last push for freedom.
I let out a barbaric scream; a scream that I thought did not exist inside of me.
"Let me help you!"
The creatures eyes shift over towards me, I get stuck in it's mesmerizing gaze. I think it's a female; her eyes twinkle with a swirling mix of blue and gold. They resemble a pupil but not solid; almost like two gases swirling in a crystal ball. Her dainty feet and hands, as well as her face are luminescent and glow a hot bright white; similar to an imploding star. The remainder of her body is covered in enough gold that King Tut would be envious. Each feather emits brilliance from a creator far from this earth.
The barrier ceases now; it must have been a defensive mechanism of some sort.
She begins to open her mouth slowly, the words fighting to come out.
"Human... heaven has forsaken us" she says, the veins in her neck strain and her eyes wince in pain. She is speaking her last words.
"This battle is yours now... Protect your daughter and fight for good."
She saw my child too and she cared enough to speak of us in her last breathe. What is this thing?
Her chest raises a few inches higher than normal as she gasps for her final breath. Her eyes now hollow and empty; the once space like gases of gold and blue that engulfed her eye are gone and now sit lifelessly like two pieces of burnt out charcoal. She stares aimlessly into the sky, as if she is giving her traitors one last look.
We are going to war now.
With who is the question... | Abaddon ascended the sloped hillside with steps of savoring, around him, a constant buzz of locusts. A guttural sound flowed from him as he laughed to himself. Thick clouds, black and swollen with rain, hurried by as if attempting to escape the scene. In their panic, they pulled a wake of white feathers. In their rushing gasp they carried with them the laughter of doom.
Gnarled feet of burnt leather sank into the wet soil and tall grass. Rot radiated outward from them, and a smile grew on the demon's face. On a lone hill next to a dead tree lay the mangled corpse of an angel.
"Where are the trumpets, Barachiel?" said Abbadon to the corpse. "And where is the promise of His word?"
The locust swarm fluttered and twirled in the wind, and the insects began to tear at flesh and wing. The clouds broke then, unable to contain their sorrow. Woeful drops hammered at the ground. Abaddon stretched wings of his own to make a shelter for the devouring swarm. In the valley below, a small village resided. Screams ran with the wind up the hillside to the demon's ears. He smiled, and a feeble rumble of thunder fell from the clouds.
"You failed, Barachiel. You failed and you fell all the same." Abaddon dug his nails into the dead flesh and pulled at a gilded breastplate. The gap exposed was immediately filled by ravenous locusts. "What concern is thunder without lightning, *Barachiel*," he seethed. "What point is martyrdom when death is your redemption?" The demon's muscle pulsed with power as the angel was consumed. In a violent pull, the breastplate broke free. He tossed it aside like a piece of scrap metal. Insects took to the revealed flesh.
The demon clutched Barachiel's face with a claw and opened still lids to look into dead eyes. A rare treat, the locusts consumed them like ripe grapes. Smiling, Abaddon opened Barachiel's mouth and tore the bottom jaw free. A lifeless tongue lolled in the opening. "Sing His praise," he said, nudging the mutilated face. "Go on. Sing for Him or sing for me."
More screams rose up from the nearby valley, and the black clouds continued to weep. "Feast, little ones," he said to the locusts crawling on the corpse, falling from his fingers, adorning his skin. "Feast and spread your wings." He stood and dropped the jawbone onto the corpse. Already, it had been eaten away to almost bone. "For tonight we all feast."
In the swirling clouds of darkness, even darker figures took to the sky, and the wind ushered their vile jeering. | 2016-07-19T07:19:31 | 2016-07-19T06:34:35 | 110 | 79 |
[WP] A courageous freedom fighter bursts into the emperor's throne room ready for battle, but to his surprise the emperor gestures towards the throne and says "OK, you win, the empire is yours now, good luck with your new job"
Let's see the muscle bound badass try to organise an economy! | Red scaled the castle wall. At the top, hand firmly on sword, he surveyed the parapet. No resistance. No guards on duty. Undaunted Red proceeded down a stone staircase into the courtyard. His dark cloak blended into the shadows he hid within.
*All this evasion and no one to evade*, he thought.
In the centre of the courtyard stood the throne room. Large gold doors with massive gold rings for handles stood in front of him. He heaved his body against them.
Running into the room, sword raised high in the air, he exposed his face pulling down the cloaks hood. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, controlled by fighting instinct he had cultivated and matured over many years. Only one other man was there; his target.
The emperor yelled down on Red from on top of the staircase leading to the throne "OK, you win, the empire is yours now, good luck with your new job."
Red was blindsided and stepped back as if to avoid a sword strike.
“Stand and fight!” he screamed.
“No need, I graciously bow down to my new King,” the emperor said grabbing a bag placed beside the throne. He bounded down the steps to Red.
“God I’m glad you came, another month and I think someone would have poisoned my food. At least my spies are still worth their salt.”
“I... I don’t understand.”
“Nothing to understand really young valiant man. I am off for a well needed and extended vacation, indefinite really. This Kingdom and its fickle subjects can go to hell. Oh, you’ll need this,” the emperor said placing a gold crown in Red’s empty hand.
Grasping the crown in both hands, letting his sword fall to the marble floor with loud clanking echoing against the chamber walls, he stared at it as the emperor sprang out of the room. He heard a horse neigh as it galloped away.
Red was a damn good fighter, he knew that since he was a boy. He fought through the slums of his old kingdom and trained with the best rebels once he reached maturity. But to be a leader, an emperor...
He slowly walked up the stairs and sat down at the throne reluctantly placing the crown on his head. Through the back door entered the queen. She stood in front of him. Black thick hair fell down over her shoulders draping over her naked breasts. A gold girdle adorned her hips. She smiled at Red as she bent down on her knees and put her arms on his strong thighs. Dazed he looked at the queen. He got up grasping her hands as she led him to the royal chamber.
---
Red laughed. The men in front of him he had seen many times. *Fools*, he thought. Arbitrating their farm boundary disputes did not please him but he did find humor in it. The royal duties had expanded Red’s mental abilities but also his belly, he grabbed a drumstick and tore his teeth into it. A young maiden fed him grapes as he smiled lustfully at her. His once fiery hair was woven with white strands.
That evening his chief spy entered the throne room.
“Sire, we have word there is a plot against you. The people have grown weary...” the spy spoke but Red stopped listening.
*The people, huh. These people are ungrateful children. They have no competence of what it means to rule, to try to appease everyone yet to remain strong in the face of opposition. The people, ugh.*
As he mulled over these thoughts a smile crept over his face.
*So be it.*
That evening he retired the royal guard, "Spend time with your families for once," he told them. Having made preparations for his departure and giving the queen specific instructions he waited patiently on the throne.
A young man burst in through the doors. Looking at the man a sense of loss swept over Red, not for the kingdom but for what the man possessed inside, what he once had.
Red got up off the throne and yelled, "OK, you win, the empire is yours now, good luck with your new job.”
r/SerializedFiction/ | I felt my face go into a squint out of frustration and exhaustion. "Yeah, they are marching against the Republic," I said to the man behind bars. He was laying down on his cot, but I could see him sit up a little bit. "Oh, you're calling it a republic now?" His face showing his play with the idea.
I scoff. "Something like that," my face showing my anger. "Ah, the nobles are against it, aren't they?" I shoot the man a look. Eyeing him up. There was no way he could have known. I was the only one that came down here.
I sigh. "Yeah. Now they won't offer their men up for the Capital because, and I quote 'we don't have to listen to you.' Can you believe those pricks are so high up their horses that they *can't* help."
"They won't help. Not the emperor. You got no, uh, what is it? Divine right?" The man was asking both me and himself. "Yeah," I flatly say back. "Ah yeah, you don't have the divine right that they need to justify helping. Pricks, aren't they?"
I chuckle. It's only been a few months since he offered the throne to me. At first I thought he was at his wit's end, but now I know he was but I wasn't the reason.
"You know, it makes since now," I say waving my hands, "why the nobles wanted to help out the rebellion." Now it was the man's turn to chuckle. "Yeah, I figured they were getting sick of all the responsibility I was giving them. Wasn't really expecting them to all want to try and dethrone and then it blew my mind that they were willing to create a *rebellion.*"
Now I was at my wit's end. "What do you think they want?"
The emperor laughed at the question. I felt dumb for not knowing. "They get you to take out the emperor. They let the north come in by not helping you. People turn against you, a commoner, and then they come. Fight back the north," with a faint smile on his face he finishes his thought, "and then they fight each other. Last man standing..."
"Gets the empire," I say whispering the end. I look down at the ground. I wanted to scream at the inability to do anything. I knew how to fight, but I didn't know how to stop a war.
"What do we do?" I look up at the old emperor in hopes he knew something.
He just sat there now, on his cot, face in deep thought.
"Been wondering that myself since the rebellion started."
We lock eyes and knew that neither of us had the answer, but hoped we could find one before all hell broke loose. | 2017-09-02T10:28:35 | 2017-09-02T09:33:29 | 68 | 18 |
[WP] You are a superhero sidekick that everyone thinks can predict the future. You actually can't predict the future. You're just the only person who can hear the background music. | Heh, it's funny isn't it; when you cannot get a song out of your head... I think they call it an earworm. Most people would call it annoying, but it has saved my life on more than one occasion.
First time I ever heard it was in elementary school, just this orchestra as some kid, I think he was called Johnny Dishwell he started walking towards me and the orchestra got louder, the piano became higher pitched and the trumpets got deeper and longer with each and every step, engrossed in the music I just stared at him and before I knew it he was infront of me, fist raised. The music climaxed and before I knew it everything went black, and the music stopped... this was 16 years ago, and that kid is now my mentor and I'm his sidekick.
The thing is, people seem to think I know the future because I always know when something significant is going to happen, but in actuality I'm just the only one who knows I'm in a superhero movie and can see past the curtains. The general public call me Ditty, ain't that some irony.
Part of my feels like I'm lying, but if I ever said anything about the fact that all I can hear are songs I think a lot of people would just lose faith, and at the end of the day, it is the faith that causes fear, not the threat.
I started "abusing my power" in examinations in school as I would just slowly write words and when I hear light piano I knew I was incorrect and would cross it out and write differently until I could hear a claranet. When I handed in my paper I would either hear the Zelda's triumphant music, and when I was wrong I would hear the doom soundtrack.
Knowing when something is going to go wrong doesn't make life easier, it just makes it harder to live normally as you are always trying to get the perfect outcome out of everything. To think, nothing I have or ever will do will matter, I'm just waiting for the next mistake. I need a change, but as long as the script is still being wrote, it will never end.. | No one seems to be aware. They live on like nothing is out of the usual. But I know. This is just a game. A game of our lives, and it frustrates me. How am I supposed to live with everyone making up excuses? Do they not hear the music? Do they not wonder why their faces are blurry? Surely the hero must know, yet he doesn’t pay any mind. We are just dolls on strings. And so, when the ending music plays, the credits shall roll. Our lives will end as quickly as it has started. Even though everyone smiles, no one know that our lives serves no purpose. And thus, until the next person decides to play, the music will stay silent. | 2020-08-26T16:24:58 | 2020-08-26T15:12:28 | 402 | 86 |
[WP] You have a special type of clairvoyance: you can see the outcomes of all possible choices. You use this power to become a superhero that fights crime by making the smallest possible changes ahead of time. You are The Butterfly. | I picked up the phone. It wasn't time to order the pizza yet, but I wanted to be ready. If I ordered too early then Ryan would end up making the delivery. If he took the delivery then he'd end up getting the big order just before close and he'd text his girlfriend Sarah that he was going to have to stay back later. She'd cancel her plan to turn up to surprise him when he finished work and he'd be free to go and fuck Melissa, the girl he was cheating on Sarah with.
Then Ryan and Sarah would stay together for another two years during which time he'd become abusive and violent towards her before severely injuring her and forcing her to flee back to her parents where she would live as an untrusting shut-in, too scared to let another man into her life.
Of course if he didn't take the order, she'd show up at the same time as Melissa and catch Ryan in her arms. They'd fight, they'd break up and in a years time she'd meet someone new. They'd go on to have a relationship that was the happiest time of her life. It was doomed to fail too, but she'd enjoy it while it lasted and she'd get a darling son out of it that would look after her in her elderly years.
But the important thing was that Dean delivered the pizza. After he dropped it off he'd ride back to the shop, and before he got there a sports car would swerve into the path of his motorscooter and knock him off. He'd hit the road heavily, but his helmet would take the brunt of the damage. His neck and shoulder will be stiff and sore for months but he'll recover. That brush with death will make Dean realise that he's wasting his life delivering pizzas and instead of thinking about going to college he needed to get off his arse and do it. He'll get his degree in engineering and secure a well paying job that enables him to help pay off his family debts.
The driver of the sports car that nearly killed Dean will lose control swerving to miss him and hop the curb, crashing into a tree. The driver will be found to be drunk, but uninjured thanks to his airbags. He'll end up being fined and sentenced to an alcohol rehabilitation program. If he didn't nearly hit Dean and write off his car, in eight months time he'd end up t-boning another family's car, killing the mother and her infant daughter.
But more importantly, the crash damages the curb, causing a broken section to stick up higher than the rest of it. The council, being what it is, ignores the damage for two years until Phillip Welsh is jogging across the road and doesn't notice it. He trips and falls face first onto the footpath getting a depression fracture of the cheekbone and losing two teeth.
Phillip will have facial reconstructive surgery and will realise that the nurse who is attending him in the hospital is actually his older sister who was adopted out at birth. Although both siblings knew of the other they'd never been able to connect and Phillip's parents had shown little interest in trying to make contact.
But more importantly, Phillip will sue the council for damages and win, forcing them to be proactive about repairing the damage to the curb that caused his injury. On the morning that workmen arrive and erect a safety barricade around the damage Troy Baker will be robbing the bank just around the corner. Even though he'll scout the area the day before he won't realise that there is a new obstacle in the way and so when he flees he'll collide with one of the safety barriers.
Troy will be winded so it will take time to get up and he'll have injured his knee forcing him to limp slowly towards the getaway car. The driver, Vinnie Deacon, will get spooked and race off leaving Troy behind. Troy will make it three blocks before the police catch him. He'll get sentenced to prison and will be released in three years.
If he didn't crash into that barrier, if he made it to the getaway car, Vinnie would lead the police on a chase for 45 minutes before being cornered. And because Vinnie is a twitchy idiot he'll open fire on the police, causing both him and Troy to be gunned down in a hail of bullets.
If Troy goes to prison, when he is released it will be just in time to see his father who is dying of cancer. His last chance to say goodbye to the man who raised him and who loves him even though his son has made some mistakes in his life. Roger Baker is a school teacher, well respected and loved in the community. I can't save him from his cancer, there's nothing that can be done for that. I can give him the one thing he wants more than anything. The chance to forgive his son for his mistakes and tell Troy he loves him before he dies. He deserves that.
I order my pizza. In half an hour it arrives.
I don't even like pizza. | Hello, my name is Steve. Don't worry, you don't know who I am and in fact, I doubt anyone really knows me; the other me. You see, I have this ..gift, or hindrance or however you personally want to perceive it.
I can see into the future, but not just what happens, but, all the outcomes that foreshadowed it. It's hard to turn off sometimes, stop myself from going too far back when I'm looking into the past. I mean, when you think about it, everything that happens today was the result of us crawling out of that primordial soup; but I digress. My point is no matter how far into the future I see, I can only make changes today. It's up to me to figure out what I can do today to change the future.
So today I'm going to be saving 21 lives, preventing 3 muggings, a rape, 1 lost softball game, 3 job terminations and roughly 4 million dollars in medical bills. I've traced all of these outcomes back to this spot, this is where I make my move.
It's hard to imagine that all of this isn't going to happen, none of it and all I have to do is...
"Excuse me sir, do you happen to have the time?"
Gentleman exciting the coffee shop: "Um, uh, yeah..it's (looks down at his watch) about 6:20"
"Thank you!"
Yeah, I know it doesn't seem like much, but that slight pause is all he needed to realize his lid for his coffee wasn't on tight enough. Since it's not going to spill on him when he's driving down 5th avenue he's not going to blow through that intersection. Since he's not going to blow through that intersection the firetruck won't be blocked by his accident. The woman crossing the street 4 blocks down will now have to wait for the firetruck to pass. Her attacker (ex-boyfriend) will exit the liqueur store, see the firetruck go by and then remember he forgot his wallet on the counter.
A gentleman riding his bike in the bike lane will end up hitting that drunkard and face plant right in the street. Don't feel bad for the guy, he was a lousy first baseman anyways. Since he wasn't going to work today now due to his injury, a young intern had to stay late. Since he stayed late he'll stop and get flowers for his girlfriend instead of taking his normal route home. That shady character lurking in the alley outside his office can now relieve himself on the wall as he planned..just in time to be spotted by a rookie cop.
Really, this goes on for quite a bit; but none of it will happen now. Sure, an unwanted pregnancy, a few stitches here and a prevention of World War 3 there. Oh, yeah I forgot about that one! Turns out that the interns girlfriend really liked the flowers. 42 years and 9 months later the young girl becomes President of the United States and has a much better idea of foreign policy compared to the jackass from Florida.
I'm sorry I do have to go now. An alien race captures our 11th generation Starship and uses it to destroy earth; I need to find that Burger King and remove a ketchup packet before noon.
| 2015-03-14T23:16:22 | 2015-03-14T23:01:55 | 154 | 10 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | Melinda was beautiful. Well, maybe a better word is bewitching. She has this beautiful crown of black hair and a quirky smile. It starts a little lopsided when sharing an inside joke and then widens into a full smile with sparkling eyes and crinkly corners when you get the joke.
She speaks with a low voice, every word enunciated carefully-people have learned to listen closely. Not only because she speaks so beautifully, but also because she is brilliant. An engineer in a dancers body, with an elder’s patience and wisdom.
Yes, I am smitten. So are most of the men in our community.
She and I have been friends for years. I think we were 8 when we met? I remember a science class in elementary school where we needed to dissect a salmon. I was freaked out-I’d never touched a live fish, let alone a slimy dead one. I was near tears when she asked shyly if we could be partners.
“You’re sad it’s dead aren’t you? I nodded, mute. “Why don’t you put your hands on mine and I will touch it. We can say thank you together. Tell it how pretty it was.” Her hands on the flank of the salmon were tiny, and I let my fingers slide between hers to touch the salmon’s skin. When she gave one of her little smiles, I finally touched the fish with my whole hand.
Thinking about it now, I realized how awkward I was-how on earth did someone so poised become my friend? We were inseparable until we chose different apprenticeships- I wanted to stay home, to become an artist and builder. She was to learn magic and math.
After finishing her apprenticeship, She went away to master her craft as an engineer-researching into ways of building thaumatic bridges, and using magic safely in everyday items. I was proud the day she came home riding her own creation - a reliable motorcycle, powered by her own willpower.
However, I didn’t speak to her that day. She waved delightedly from afar, but I scuttled quickly to my home. It had gotten harder to be her friend-I’d fallen in love and there was no chance we could marry or even be lovers. The community would torment us.
After dodging her throughout her visit home, she finally cornered me, asking why I was avoiding her. I stuttered, ashamed, in capable of looking at her, miserable. “You’re beautiful” I finally said. I felt arms reaching around me, and I fell into that beautiful corner between her neck and shoulder.
“Hush my little one. I love you.” I couldn’t believe my ears, I lifted my head and we kissed. Softly. “I will find a way” she finally said, and pulled away.
The next week, she stood in our community hall in front of the elders. Her eyes were red rimmed with deep shadows. “The elders and I have spoken. I cannot marry the person I choose. Instead, I will marry whomever wins this contest. The elders have agreed to honour the outcome.”
Her eyes narrowed and lips grew hard. “Whomever can open my front door with this key can marry me.”
“But first you must get the key. It is protected by my Julius.” She reaches down to clip a gold chain around the neck of a huge, fluffy, arrogant cat.
Looking at him, you’d think he’d move like cold molasses. In truth he was all fur and muscle. He could move like molten lead through loosely braided wiring. Or like a nail falling from the fifth floor of a house. Fast and with the promise of pain if you got in the way.
I was stunned. Julius? The man hater?
She stood up and with an angry smile said “the contest starts now “.
There was an uproar as men pushed and shoved to try and grab the cat. The cat did his thing, bounding from body to body, dodging arms, and legs, freely distributing teeth and claws as he made his way across the room.
To me. He leapt onto my shoulders, and hooked his back claws onto my bra strap to keep his balance as he hissed at the men.
Melinda was triumphant as I walked slowly towards her home. The crowd in the community hall fell silent and followed me. The elders gaped as I took the key from Julius’s neck, inserted it in the lock, and opened the door.
We are in love. We will be married | Humans have always been on the strange side, especially the Sukts. This Sukt however was a wealthy merchant, owning several ships, so we put up with her weirdness. Yep her, but we orcs are egalitarians when it comes to putting up with people due to money. However, she remained alone. One day as I walked through the streets heading somewhere just to find it was nowhere, I spotted a crowd clustered around the notice board. My first assumption was that some one's nude's had been leaked. Last month it was the daughter of the Mayor, he had been livid but what could he do? The artist was never seen. This time it wasn't nudes, it was the annual baking contest. He instantly knew who would win and turned to go, then he spotted the real reason. Gwendoline, the female merchant, was having a contest for her hand in marriage. Whoever could get the key around her cat's neck could marry her. That was an issue, after all my old master, a beast shaaman, had given her that cat. What was its name? Midnight I think. I watched others struggle to capture the cat. It was great fun. The cat lead them on fantastic chases. Bratish cheif's would find themselves stuck and having to beg for help. Rich merchants found themselves with soiled clothes. Corca the Lesbian was pushed into the water. The lawsuit for discrimination went nowhere and she married the defense lawyer.
&#x200B;
All throughout this the baker, who had indeed won the annual baking contest, kept giving Gwendolyne food. I do wonder how much she was paying him to deliver. The food looked delicious and I would occasionally steal a scone. He, also being Suktish, was the only baker in the orcish city of Tracats that baked them. They were delicious. After two months I had a sudden idea. I ran to where the cat was. Midnight was eating some tarts at the baker's door. No doubt this was an order, I would have to chase the cat away. I reach out my hand and flicked up. A spike of Earth impaled the cat and I grabbed the. I triumphantly went and unlocked Gwendolyne's door. Now I could have a bride and be wealthy. I wouldn't have to do odd jobs with my magic used for menial tasks. I could study with the greatest of the shaaman. I would become great and teach my own students. Oh happy day, oh glorious day. She looked at me and then behind me to the baker carrying the cat. She screeched and ran to him. After hearing what happened Gwendolynechased me out crying. The rules hadn't specified no death, what did she think would happen.
&#x200B;
She married the baker and I was not invited to the wedding even though the entire city was.
(Adventures in Swiat)
(I mean no ill will towards /u/NicodemusLux 's story. I quite liked it. I just felt like poking some fun at it. If you are he and desire this to be taken down just ask and it will be done.) | 2019-05-01T18:44:31 | 2019-05-01T17:15:21 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You have been Isekai'ed into the body of a Great and Terrible Lich, on the eve of its greatest, final victory. The forces of the Light are at their limit, resigned to their grim fate. You want no part of any of this bullshit, everyone is confused, nobody is sure what's going on anymore.
[deleted] | I fell to my knees and threw up.
Except, nothing came out. In fact, I wasn’t sure I even felt my stomach contract.
“My love, did it work? I — I don’t see it. Is it invisible? I know that many spirits are, but I thought that after being Summoned it would manifest…”
I looked around. This definitely wasn’t my apartment. I knelt on stone, and in front of me was a circle surrounded by runes, all etched into the floor with silver. The walls too were stone, arcing around me and the circle, shored up by dark timbers rising to the ceiling. A bookcase was opposite me, but it was nothing like my Billy. This one was sturdily constructed and lacquered so it shone in the light. Wait, the lights — they were just orbs, slightly orange like firelight, hovering in the air. And the books themselves were tomes, bound in leather, with spidery letters on the spines that, oddly, I could decipher with ease.
“My love?”
I turned to view the speaker. And I was stunned. She was so beautiful, I might even say my ideal: lithe, pale skin and copper hair, concern apparent on her round face. And — wait, were those wings hers? Black leathery wings seemed to rise from her back, and then I saw a black snake curl around her leg. No, not a snake, a tail? I stumbled to my feet. “Um, hello?” *That’s not my voice!*
“Ukna? Are you well?”
The first word she spoke tickled my mind. Shadows flitted across my consciousness, but refused to form into cohesive thoughts. “I’m sorry, I’m confused. I… do I know you?”
Her brow furrowed. “Darling, it’s me. Nyharis.”
Instantly some of the thoughts in my mind coalesced into memories. Memories of things that never happened to me, and yet I was certain that they were, in fact, mine. “I was young. An elf? Scarcely a century old. And I was… in my teacher’s study. I was there because I had been asking uncomfortable questions about dark magics… but she was called away, and in her absence I noticed a scroll. It spoke to me, but I couldn’t make out the words, harsh and guttural but somehow seductive. I took it and after Valetha, yes, that was her name, after she lectured me and I returned to my dorm, I tried to read it. It took me a decade to learn the language, and another two to gather the necessary supplies and strengthen my magic enough to — to Summon you. A succubus, to aid me…”
“Yes,” she smiled, reassured. “You had me worried. I feared that this spell was beyond even your considerable capabilities. So, did it work? Is the great and terrible spirit here? The one that will finally allow us to destroy our enemies and rule this world?”
*Oh boy.* “Nyharis, I don’t think it did. I mean, it summoned me. And now I’m—“ I held out my hands.
Those were *definitely* not my hands. I’d always been skinny, but never skeletal. They were like the hands of the mummy I’d seen when the Egyptian exhibit came to the local museum, but not brown like that, instead they were pale and grayish.
*Oh no,* the thought hit me. “Nyharis?” I knew the answer but I had to ask the question. “Am I a Lich?”
Her laugh was golden. “Of course you are. What are you playing at?”
“Yeah… Look. This is going to sound odd. I think the spell that Ukna cast — I think it messed up. My name is Gabe. I’m just some guy, you know? I’m definitely not some terrible, world-ending spirit.”
“Oh. Oh dear. You warned me this might happen.” She examined the circle and runes near my feet. “Yep. You see there?” She pointed. “That’s ‘Ut’ and it’s supposed to be ‘Uth.’ It’s okay, it’s not your fault, Ancient Infernal is a damned tricky language.” She grinned. “Pun definitely intended.” She set her hands on her hips. “So. You’re not a lower being with the power to wither all you see?”
“Afraid not. I just work customer service at a call center — which I now realize I cannot remotely explain to you. But my coworkers and I do consider it hell, so maybe that’s the mixup?”
“That sounds questionable, but you are the arcane expert here. Um, you do still have your — I mean, Ukna’s — memories, right?”
I considered. “It’s fuzzy, but yeah, I think so. Hey, wait. Why do I feel — I control an army of the undead, don’t I?”
She nodded. “Yes, don’t you remember when we found the Temple of Tazalus and recovered the accursed Blue Witchstone?”
“Right, I could only control a couple hundred skellies and a dozen or so wights. But the stone itself expanded that control, and then we forged it into my staff… Oh, wow. Okay. This is heavy.” I conjured a bench and sat. Nyharis joined me and wrapped her arm around my waist.
“Look, I’ve always been blunt with you, and now is no time to stop. There are two souls bound to your flesh. How much is you, and how much is, um, other you?”
I sighed. “I’m definitely more Gabe than Ukna, but his memories are coming back pretty fast now. I don’t know how much longer I’ll stay in control. But then, I don’t feel like he’s fighting me, you know? It’s like it’s both minds, but just my soul? Or would I notice the two merging?”
“Hmm. So you aren’t a Cleric or Wizard? Or psionic or demonic maybe?”
“Nope, just me.”
“You don’t have any special powers?”
“Well, I don’t know how much good it will do, but I do have a certain amount of genre savvy….”
**End Part I ** | The transition was, quick. It was confusing. I staggered out of McCluskeys after a night of drinking with the work buddies and across the parking lot. I'd been slurring by the end and I knew I was in no shape to drive so I made my way to the cab stop beyond the lot. Remembering Jim telling how his wife had made him sleep on the sofa for throwing up in the kitchen and leaving it there the last time we'd drunk this much, made me smile. The cool air of the night refreshed me after sitting in the stuffy bar and made my head spin. As fun as my colleagues were, I couldn't wait to climb into bed with Jess. The day had been long and there was nothing like snuggling up against her warm butt and passing out.
Lost in the dreams of what awaited me at home, I hadn't heard the footsteps behind me. My first thought was that one of my peers had run out to give me my wallet as I had a habit of drunkenly losing stuff, and tapped me too hard on the back to get my attention. It was the second and third stabbing pain in the back that caused my mind to process what was happening. The world turned on its side as I spun to lash out at my attacker though I caught nothing but air. The shadowed outline of my killer ran off into the darkness surrounding the bar.
Where once I had been warm and buzzing with alcohol still in my system, now I felt cold seeping up my back. I tried to move but the pain held me down. I yelled out for help, or at least tried to while coughing up a mouthful of coppery blood. Realisation washed over me. I wasn't making it home. I thought of Jess and how she would take the news when the police informed her. How she would have to tell Tommy, our 4 year old, that daddy wasn't coming home again. I started to cry as my heart broke. Guilt wracked me but was fast replaced with hot dark hatred for the person who had taken me away from them. As I stared at McCluskeys from my position on the ground, the shadows around the bar seemed to reach in. Held back only by the sound and light from those within, still drinking happily. I could feel the image burning into my retinas and I could do nothing but stare and feel the heat of my body slipping away. Rage dying as I was now too tired to keep it stoked.
Blink.
Gone was the bar.
I was no longer laying with my face pressed against the ground. The rage came flooding back and I roared. Louder than I ever had before. It tore its way from my chest and out at the people on their knees before me. Wait, what?
I looked at my hands, gripping the arms of the... throne, I was sitting on? They weren't my hands. They were longer, more emaciated and grey? It was hard to tell as the room was awash in green light from behind my seat. I pulled myself up and despite my now hollowed out figure, I felt stronger than I ever remembered being.
Behind the throne was a large vat, easily 20 feet tall. The insides seemed to be swirling and glowed green like the light up sticks Jess would always wave when we went out clubbing. There were things moving in the swirls. Was that a face? Now that I could make out the contents, I knew. I was in hell. Don't get me wrong, I know I wasn't the greatest human being to walk the earth but its not like I was kicking puppies and burning orphanages.
"You've won, just kill us already."
I turned back to the source of the voice. A younger man, in his early twenties knelt before me, no, not knelt. Was held down by arms reaching out of the floor, grasping his wrists, legs and anything else they could reach. Half his face was covered in blood from a gash on his hairline and from the sound of his voice, his breathing was clearly laboured. I looked to his companions. Where his eyes were filled with anger, theirs were filled with tears, fear or what I assumed was the empty look of someone who had accepted the end had come.
If this was hell, clearly all of the cos players were sent here. The man before me was in a suit of armor and, yes, one of the women was clearly wearing a witches hat. As confusion wiped away the final remnants of rage left in me, I sat back down and put my(?) face in my hands. I breathed in deeply and heard a rattling moan in my chest as I did so.
Once centred, I sat up straight and placed my hands on my knees. Now I needed answers. Staring the man directly in the eye, I responded.
"WHAT?" | 2021-08-08T11:31:28 | 2021-08-08T10:46:38 | 61 | 32 |
[WP] You're a superhero, and you're about to fight your nemesis... At least, you thought you were, but they took half an hour to show up, and they were still in their pajamas. As they approached, you held your guard up, only for them to stand motionless, staring at the floor, and say "I need a hug." | My battles with Starflower were normally much more intense, regardless of the weather or banality of our antagonism. Her goons had already shown up and taken hostages, but their confusion grew as their leader hadn't shown up. They knew they were outmtched without her, so they released the people with apologies - mostly because the super insurance paid really well for injuries and being held hostage the longer it took to be rescued.
As the minions were milling around, I approached Theodore, her lead Hench. He nodded to me apologetically, and held his hand out to me. His psychotically deep voice rumbled out, startling the animals around. "Sorry about this Firestorm, she was supposed to be here, with us laying the groundwork for your battle. I've already paid up, so there shouldn't be any claims this time. Cash."
I grunted - I was missing my Emily's recital for this? "I get it, Theo, just be more-" I was interrupted by something I hadn't expected to see; Starflower in her pyjamas....*with my logo on*? What the hell was going on?
She lifted her face to me, and her eyes were bloodshot; her barely moving forwards, and a look I had never seen before. A hollowness behind her eyes, a loss of drive and a desire for comfort clear on her face.
"I need...someone....who understands. To hold me. To tell me it'll be fine." I looked at Theodore, who looked to me, then to his boss, and back to me. We shrugged, and played Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would get the job. An absurdity, but, well, neither of us were really equipped for this.
I was wary of her, due to our antagonism, but my duty won out. I lifted gently off the ground using my powers, and floated to my nemesis. She whispered to me, clearly not wanting her henchmen and goons to hear.
"They killed them. They killed my boy and mom. 'Just another drive-by,' the police said. But I know better. There were traces left at the scene. Psychomancy."
I felt my heart bleed for her, and reached around. She seemed much more frail and small than in our battles. I whispered close to her ear. "By the Greatness, I'm sorry. I liked Matthew, for a villain. Talented and forthright. Had some good ideas, too. Emily will be devastated." I felt a tear pricking my eye, and for a second, the mask came off.
I didn't care. We'd developed a sort of kinship, and Starflower had been there when my own parents went Full Megalo. Now it was time for me to return the favor.
I needed to speak with Fear O Mona, and Dominix, and fast. | I keep my eyes on him. He wants me to come over... and give him a hug? That's too suspicious... I glance him over and smile. "Alright" I say, as I release the energy I had been holding. He looks up at me, opens his arms. Just as he's about to close them around me, I use the energy I was secretly building up to paralyse him. He instantly falls to the ground, his blade now sticking out his sleeve.
"DAMMIT! How did you know?"
"Metal likes to give off a glint" I sneer. "I really didn't mean to mock you when I said that, but... it's difficult not to... cute duck pyjama's?"
He goes bright red as he realises his current predicament. "Please, just... kill me... take my life and throw me into a ditch or something... please..."
I always wear an under-suit, so after taking a quick photo, I take off my main suit and put it on him. "I'll take you back with me to my place. I live alone. Once you recover from my spell, you can get yourself changed. Before trying anything clever..."
"I saw. Way to blackmail me, dude."
"Hey, whatever it takes to keep you from getting away from me." I proceed to pick him up and make our way back to my place, knowing he's one mistake away from internet humiliation... | 2022-10-07T06:05:10 | 2022-10-07T01:43:21 | 92 | 38 |
[WP] You sold your soul to the devil and you've never felt better, the only problem is he keeps showing up to beg you to take it back. | Run for your life!
Simple right? You find yourself in mortal danger and you do everything you can to flee, and fast. However, running *from* your life? That's a bit more involved. I mean, it's not technically my "life". Just my soul, which as it turns out, happens to be worth a whole lot more than I bargained for. I'm sure you're scratching your head at this point, so let's pump the brakes and put this puppy in reverse for a minute.
First, let me start off by saying I'm not the bad guy here. You see what had happened was a couple years ago I was in a pretty gnarly car car crash; barrel-roll, upside down, explosions... the whole nine. I wasn't expected to survive, and I didn't. For a whole three minutes I flat-lined. I had your stereotypical near death experience - the warmth, the white light, a comforting handing leading me forward. That didn't last long, I arrived at the pearly gates to see a city in disarray, everyone was panicked.
"This can't be.... you aren't suppos-.... JESUS!!!!"
Never pegged Peter for the panick-prone, but man was he losing his shit. I stood there waiting for eternity, and finally he showed up. His disposition was a bit more composed, but he couldn't hide the unsettling worry he was feeling from his face.
"I don't exactly know how it is you came to be here, but I can assure you that it's premature. You haven't yet fulfilled your purpose on earth, and it is absolutely imperative to the survival of, well, everything that you do. I'll be sending you back now, and I'll be ensuring you're looked after from here on out."
And that was it. One moment I was in heaven being told the fate of the world is somehow my responsibility, the next I'm feeling the jolt of a thousand volts from a defibrillator.
What the fuck do I do with that? I mean, yeah, it could have just been a dream, but it felt too real to me. And I was dead. For three minutes.
Remember when I said I wasn't the bad guy? I'm still not, but I'm not much of the hero type either.
_____________
I had heard the legends of the crossroads demon for years, hell, Crowley is one of my favorite TV characters of all time. So I took a trip down to New Orleans, got myself in contact with the right people, and gathered up everything I needed to give this a shot. Did it seem crazy? Of course, but not any crazier than me being the second class savior of humanity.
She was prettier than I expected, who am I kidding though, I didn't know what to expect. My guess is they appear however you'd like them to so they can ensure you don't second guess your decision.
"So you're a crossroads demon right? I can sell you my soul?"
"Honey, you summoned me. If you got me here, you know who I am and how this works."
"Fair enough. What can I get?"
"What do you want?"
"Ten million dollars, a passport that will always clear customs, and a face that is completely indistinguishable from anybody else's."
"Ooohh boy, and lose those dashing good looks? I'll give you five, and the passport. Can't do anything about your looks, part of the rules. Do we have a deal?"
"Yeah, that'll do. One more thing, I don't want my soul back. Like ever, deal?"
She smirked.
"You really are something aren't you? Sweetie, in all my years of doing this, I've never had someone request that. They're usually begging for it back inside of six months, but the standard rules apply. You have to willingly give it, so you'd have to willingly take it back. That is, if we were so inclined to offer it, which I can assure you, we aren't."
"Good."
___________________
It's been six months. I've been to four continents, forty-six countries, and a different city every. Single. Day. At first it was easy enough to manage giving the demon the slip. A bit harder once Lucifer himself started pursuing me, but when the heavenly host caught wind?That's when all hell (pun intended) broke loose. You know you fucked up when you have heaven and hell working together to find you.
I'm sure one day they'll catch me, but I've got the upper hand even then. They can't make me take it back, and why should I? After all, who do they think I am?
I'm ~~not~~ the bad guy.
| **Bathroom:**
Nothing stopped him from showing up inadvertent, not even my toxins hitting the toilet's silent edges on a gloom monday morning. As I was in the middle of the act, a smell like sulphur invaded my nostrils to which I smiled proudly and concerned. I achieved the most disgusting smell of my entire life or so I thought.
Searing shadows like smoke materialized beside me obliterating my achievement. "Mo-Mortal w-what are you doing, stop it!" Screamed the Devil trying to block my precious stream of toxins pushing his arms forward.
"Holy golden shower baby, it's good for the sunburns you shrimp motherfucker!" I yelled as I bathed his infernal skin. His smell like sulphur combined with my cascade's made me vomit, of course I vomited violently all over his mighty horns.
"I can't see anything mortal, what have you just done, what is this?"
"That's what happens when you interrupt my holy peeing session. Don't forget it." I said, mocking him and giving him the fingers.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**The First Breakfast:**
It's been years since I sold my soul to the Devil, I remember his hideous laughter lasting so ridiculously long I started laughing too. Thing is, the next morning he came back begging for me to take my soul back as it mocked him constantly and the other souls lost all the respect they had for him. Typical of my soul, you know the saying: like owner, like soul.
Today, the morning shone brightly through my window as I stretched vigorously letting out some slight moans. I could already smell the sulphur in my kitchen, strange thing, he never showed up in a different room from where I am.
I peeked through the doorway just to find my favourite and only wooden table disintegrated slowly with each one of the Devil's tears like corrosive acid.
"Satan, little bitch, stop crying you are ruining my mighty table dude!" I yelled as I stomped my way towards him.
He lifted his head up, his void-like eyes were now glassy as though they were perfectly polished. "Mortal, your soul dethroned me, I don't have nowhere else to go, I'm lost." He sobbed, his extremities trembled.
I had to hide my pride but it was difficult, "are really you saying my handsome, erudite, eloquent soul dethroned you or is this one of your crafty plans?" Either edges of my mouth clashed in an eternal fight against my urges to smile twitching awkwardly.
"No, he really did. It was a nightmare," his tears were now destroying my kitchen's floor. "Are you okay mortal? Your mouth is quivering strangely." He added.
I had to save my floor somehow and I fucked up. "That beautiful bastard of my soul... oh, if you want you can crash here until you plan your revolution." I said, without thinking.
The tears stopped, he got up, put on a pink apron, "what would you like to eat? Toasts of Eternal Suffering with Painful Jam or Agonizing Eggs with Screaming Bacon?
He never left. Now I only wonder how well my soul is ruling Hell.
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If you enjoyed, you can check /r/chasisoxidado for more!
| 2017-07-06T08:50:46 | 2017-07-06T05:27:31 | 35 | 19 |
[WP] You walk up the steps to the church for your best friend's wedding but at the threshold you feel an invisible force repel you backwards. A priest standing by the entrance smiles and says "We've changed the rules" | "Changed the rules?" I step back, confused. My friend and her dad are coming up behind me: I'm meant to be leading the way, dressed in my bridesmaids best. But I can't get in, can't even pass through the doorway.
The priest is still smiling. There's something unnerving about that smile. I recognise it. "I'm afraid you cannot enter."
"What's happening?" Sophie is right behind us now, and even in her princess dress she looks capable of knocking down anyone who dares stand between her and her goal.
"You are welcome," the priest says."Your friend is not."
Sophie's father smiles his usual bemused smile. "I'll wait inside cupcake."
"Yeah," Sophie says. "We'll just be a minute."
He steps over the threshold. I frown. I try to follow, but can't. That force is there. It pushes me back.
Sophie watches my struggles, brow furrowed. I try a smile. My mistakes aren't going to ruin her day. "You shouldn't frown, you'll mess up your make up. Go inside - I'll be right in."
"No." Sophie puts her hands on her hips. Now I know it's serious. "What do you mean she can't come in?"
The priest's smile doesn't so much as falter. "The holy house is not for you."
"This isn't even a bloody Catholic Church," Sophie says."Who the hell are you to -?"
"I am the judgement. And she cannot enter."
"Please go inside." I smile at Sophie."I'll deal with this."
She doesn't want to. I can see it in her eyes. She's going to stand here and defend me and that means she's going to learn everything.
The priest's smile widens. It widens until it's swallowing the rest of its face, its mouth a hideous, gaping hole.
Sophie steps back.
I instinctively step in front of her. "She has nothing to do with this."
"With this?" Sophie grabs my arm."You know what this is about?"
"The church is no longer a safe zone. The rules have changed." The priest reaches out. It's fingers brush against my arm. "You are It."
The priest disappears. I sigh. My shoulders slump.
"It?" Sophie sounds lost. "What does that mean? Where did he go?"
"It means he cheats, and change the rules whenever he damn well please." I take a deep breath, and step over the threshold. Damn him. I turn and smile at Sophie. "It's fine. He just knew I'd be here at this time and wanted to get me before I could get into the neutral ground of the church."
"I - that doesn't make sense. What're you -?"
I grab her hand and pull her into the church. A dazed smile replaces her frown. She won't remember. I lean forward and whisper, "Thank you for standing up for me. It means more than you can possibly know."
We step apart. Sophie's smile is warmer, more genuine now. "What're we waiting for? I'm getting married!"
"Yeah you are!"
I wait for her to turn to her father and then glance outside. The priest has shed his disguise: his wings split the sky apart and he smiles so only I can see, inclining his head.
You changed the rules so demons cannot enter church just so you could get me, I think. And I thought angels didn't play dirty.
You are It. The thought comes straight into my head. It's a shame you must hang around for the wedding.
He disappears, and I sigh. It took me centuries to find him last time I was It. This time, my goal is to trim that number into decades.
I smile, and turn towards my friends wedding. For now, I will forget. I will be human. But tomorrow, the hunt begins. | “Goddamn it, Theo!” He flinched when I took the lords name in vain, but kept his proud grin. “What is you’re problem?! I’m only here for the wedding.”
He glowered at me. “I believe you mean Father Theo.” He corrected before continuing. “As I said, the rules have changed. We shall no longer suffer your presence here.”
Father Theo had never liked me, he was too smart for that. Knew what I was. Not the others. I had been visiting this church for a while. Not regularly, mind you, but for special occasions: a funeral, a baptism, a wedding.... Never cared for the stink of it, but I wouldn’t let that hold me back from supporting the friends I’d made. Everyone was blissfully unaware, until HE moved in. Father Theo had it out for me from day one. I was there for a funeral that day and he singled me out of the group. Told me my kind wasn’t welcome here. I was more amused than upset. We played our games, bickering like children when no one was looking. He tried to use banishing talismans and spells and I made him look like a fool by telling the other priest how rude he was being to me. He never had anything strong enough to cause anything beyond mild discomfort.
Today though, this was different. I looked him in the eyes. “Fun is fun and all, but I don’t have time for this today Theo.” I huffed, “My friend is getting married and I’m the maid of honor. Are you really going to ruin this day for them?”
“Oh I’m not ruining their day, you are.” He smirked. “I haven’t laid a hand on you. Nothing is blocking you, the door is wide open.” He waved his hand towards the entrance as if inviting me through. My friends fiancé waved happily at me from where he was discussing last minute details with another priest. “Unless, of course, you want to tell everyone what you are. Then they’d believe you. I would gladly admit that I was holding a demon at bay from our holy grounds.” He whispered the last sentence softly in my ear before retracting with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Like I’d give you that win!” I chuckled, through rage and bravado. “That would excuse all the things I’ve gotten you in trouble for all these years. No. I’ll get in and I’ll do it without giving you the satisfaction.” With that, I stormed away to formulate a plan. I had only two hours. | 2018-11-29T09:50:51 | 2018-11-29T09:33:01 | 196 | 35 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a superpower, but no one knows what theirs is until they are forced to use it in a life-or-death situation.
edit: Thanks for all the great responses :) | The Discovered - Part 1 of 3
"Walter, help me with these please." Ms. Zodiac called to the slowest of the students.
He turned his head to see who called without slowing or stopping and ran into the back of the kid before him. She shoved him away and smoothed out her brown leather vest and red tartan skirt. Walter, or Wally as the other kids called him, mumbled a slow awkward apology and turned back to his music teacher.
"Hiya, Mrs. Z." Wally called back, raising his hand to wave.
"Would you be a dear and give me a hand?" She asked again. Wally's head bobbed up and down like it was on a spring and when it stopped, he started over after a momentary mental shift. He grabbed one of the water jugs and trudged along in his teacher's wake. Ms. Zodiac gave him a patient, albeit brief, smile of her own and shook her head in surrender. It was the surrender of a woman who was faced with the futility of a reality she could do nothing about. The futility and reality being how slow and awkward Wally was. He was mentally slow, and the other kids didn't much care for him. The truth was, she didn't feel comfortable around him either. She loved children, and he was a sweet dear boy, but his ignorance and retardation made him almost as annoying as he was sweet.
She walked a little faster than he just to ensure he didn't trod on her heels by accident. They walked through the doors to the amphitheater and made their way to the center. Here they set the jugs of water on a table. She proceeded to arrange the cups and snacks and beverages for the students and qualifiers and city officials officiating the event.
"Why is everyone looking at me?" Wally asked. Ms. Zodiac stopped what she was doing and turned to regard the boy. She had expected him to shamble off to be with the rest of the of the students, but she found him standing stunned and awed by all of those in attendance seated in their seats with each row rising a little higher than the one before them. The seats and students reached all the way to the far corner of the room where the ceiling met the walls.
"They're not looking at you. They're waiting for the Discovery to begin." She explained, pointing out his section so he could take his seat. He didn't see her hand and remained standing at her side. "You need to take your seat Wally." She told him. He kind of did a double take as he looked at her and her extended arm. He must have been wondering its purpose but then seemed to understand.
"Oh, Mrs. Zodiac, I feel silly." He laughed, silently laughing and doubling over to do so.
"It's Ms. Zodiac," Wally. "I'm not married." She informed him. "You really need to take your seat." Wally nodded to her and probably way longer than was normal before trundling off to join his classmates. His arms bent and pumped as he ran and his body leaned forward like a sprinter even though his sprint was more along the lines of a power walk. The kids who saw him laughed and jeered and pointed. Some through paper wads his way. He didn't seem to notice or maybe he did. It might be a while before the teasing registered.
Wally had barely taken his seat before the music began, announcing the start of Discovery. Discovery was an old tradition passed down through the generations. Of course, through the years, it had become more formalized and official. State and federal observers sat in. Politicians came to spectate. Colleges and Universities came keen on picking the next big power. Even the alphabet security agencies had talent scouts in the crowd. Discovery was where they picked which of the children of the new generations would be groomed for agency positions. Discovery was a major function and was conducted through the year all across the nation at every school in the country.
Everyone was born with an enhancement. Discovery was where they learned who to harvest for their talents, who to culture, and who to fear and suppress. It happened every now and then. A student would exhibit a new power stronger than any other. Some of these students could be harvested and taught to control their powers. They were known as Supers. The powers were considered a matter of national security, and despite their potential, they were considered threats to national security. How they were handled was anyone's guess. They were usually spirited away and never seen again. Everyone had an enhancement, and everyone feared being Discovered on the off chance they would manifest as a Super. The tales the general population told about what happened to the Supers ranged from them receiving special training to them being marked Too Dangerous to Let Live or TD2L. Every student feared receiving a TD2L rating. It happened a few times. The power manifested and just couldn't be controlled.
The cannons went off signaling the arrival of the Headmaster. Wally heard him speak, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was staring off into the distance. He was fascinated with the pigeons flying around near the open skylight in the center of the amphitheater roof. Occasionally, he would look down at the bright lights and streamers and the occasional fireworks they let off during the Discovery. Occasionally, one of the kids would manifest, and it would terrify him or make him clap gleefully. He heard his name called a few times, but when he looked around he couldn't find the source of the call. He would shrug and go back to watching the pigeons or picking his nose. He was happy doing both. But then, someone called his name and though he looked around and found no one, the unseen speaker kept calling it. He noticed gradually that all of his fellow students were looking at him and this he found peculiar.
| They caught me for stealing bread again, and this time i wasnt getting let off easily. The guard gave me a patronizing laugh and said "I bet you last less than 5 minutes in the pits."
Little did he know, I am a fighter.
After your third punishment in Metroloplicity, you get sent to the gladiator pits and this was my third offense.
I said to the guard "Well, I hope you bet your paycheck against me, pigboy."
Like a viper ready to strike, he smacks me with his baton.
I spit up a little blood and give him a little smirk.
I hate pigs, theyre all corrupt just like this city. The rich take from the poor and the poor are defenseless. This city needs a change. The problem is nobody is strong enough to stop the mayor and company. Supposedly the mayor has a secret weapon, someone with a power like no other...
We begin our walk down the gladiators tunnel. The tunnel was lit by torches and had the stench of blood. I can picture all the poor bastards who have walked this beaten path, desperately trying to figure a way out of the fights, cowards. I have accepted my fate, i will either be great or i will die with pride. I only wish i was able to provide my little sister more than a piece of bread before i was caught, but she is strong, she will be okay. I just wanted to at least tell her that i love her.
I heard a loud smash followed by the scream of a man in pain. I can only imagine what he is up against. Our bodies are a lot like a game of cards, its all in the luck of the draw. I must say, I am curious to what power I have.
A sickly voice echoed through the halls "bring the next victim." The guard, a big ape looking brute, laughs and pushes me out the gates. Hundreds of rich snobs booing me as i entered the pit. Only the rich were able to afford to watch the gladiator pits. "A rich mans sport" although the rich didnt participate. They sit on their pedastools and look at me like an animal; Little do they know, they are the true animals.
The announcer asks "what is your name dead boy"
I say, "Hawk"
Not a second later the prick says, "Ladies and gentlemen, IN THE BLUE CORNER WE HAAAAAAVE HAWK. And in the red corner we have your returning champ, GOROK"
The crowd went wild as this guerrilla looking bastard came out of the red corner pounding on his chest. This guy was 7ft tall and his body was made of stone, literally. I thought to myself, well this is it; goodbye everyone.
A bell rang and the stone beast came charging at me. I was able to dodge him and tried to counter with right jab. I've always been agile but the jab did nothing but break my right index finger. Gorok, gave a deep intimidating laugh and again came charging at me. I tried to side step and dodge the pile of sediment again, but i was caught. I couldnt fool the man twice with the same move. Gorok grabbed me by the throat and said "Any last words, chump?"
I wasnt able to say anything because he was squeezing my wind pipe too hard. He then took his boulder of a hand and lifted it up to the heavens. As he started to bring his hand down to smash my face, i thought, where is my power and why have I let myself come to an end like this. Then as Gorok's hand was about make contact with my face, a surge of divine energy rushed through my body. It was like nothing ive ever felt before. The combination of dopamine, adrenaline and the best orgasm youve ever had combined into one. I then explode. A sharp light followed by immense energy decimates the gladiator pit. I open my eyes and Gorok, the announcer, the guard and all the rich scrubs have been turned into ash. That is when i realize, I am a walking nuclear fusion plant. I am the bird god himself, I am the sun, I am Ra. And I will bring down the mayor and bring this city to what it was once was, even if its the last thing i do. | 2014-11-18T19:44:56 | 2014-11-18T19:26:59 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] When you were born you were given a watch with a counter on it. Every time someone says your name or mentions you, it goes up by one. One day you look at it to see it counting up extremely fast.
[WP] When you were born you were given a watch with a counter on it. Every time someone says your name or mentions you, it goes up by one. One day you look at your watch to see it counting up extremely fast. | *Tick*
The first few ticks hardly registered in Tyler’s seven-o’clock brain. Probably Aaron and Kyle at work, talking about who’s coming in later.
*Tick tick*
He rolled over and fumbled to find the mute switch on the FameWatch. He wondered why he still had the damn thing. It was a gift from five or six years ago, when he was obsessed with becoming a celebrity vlogger. One of those gifts your family buys you to show you they’re trying to understand your interests. A rate of four ticks per day, however, has more of a tendency to discourage an insecure teenager than anything.
*Tick tick tick tick*
Forty-seven. Eighty-nine. Two-hundred. By the time Tyler’s eyes had adjusted to the morning light, the counter reported that five hundred people had mentioned his name in the past hour.
“Damn thing’s finally broken,” Tyler mumbled. He worked at a fucking pizza parlor. Unless the whole city was suddenly ecstatic about the two-for-one large pepperoni deal, the count couldn’t be accurate.
*Tick tick tick tick*
He muted the watch, moved across the room to his computer, and opened up Google.
**FameWatch counting haywire**
Nothing.
**FameWatch won’t stop counting**
Nothing.
Two-thousand.
Fuck it. It’s trash anyway. Tyler stood up and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen to start his morning ritual, so rudely interrupted by the watch’s defective chirps. Mug. Beans. Grinder. Kettle. Press. Timer: four minutes. He grabbed the remote from the kitchen table and pointed it at the Magnavox across the room.
The horrifying headline of the day scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
**PRESIDENT COTTON ASSASSINATED DURING SCRANTON SPEECH**
Good.
No. Fuck.
The world spun around Tyler. All sound turned to static and his vision blurred. The president was dead. He didn’t need to hear any more—the president was dead. Killed, no doubt, for his crusade against low-income cities. Jobs, healthcare, public works, he slashed it all. Less for them, more for his rich friends.
His friends.
John Steinberg. Vice president Steinberg.
President Steinberg.
Steinberg was somehow even less suited for the office than Cotton was. He had run during the primaries, but didn’t catch on due to his near-daily meltdowns against his critics. “In a perfect world,” he once said, “anyone who talked like that would be dragged out into the streets and beat.” And that was the end of his run. When Cotton picked him up as VP, however, people didn’t seem to mind. No one bought into his rants, and they wanted that fire in the White House without the power to actually act on it.
Fuck.
Tyler pulled the watch out of his pocket. Three hundred-thousand. Tyler bolted down the hall and opened up Google again.
**Tyler Perez John Steinberg**
His throat closed. His heart pounded like a jackhammer.
*Thump thump thump thump thump*
The top result was his own stupid fucking face, smirking into the camera. A video he’d made five years ago, during the primaries.
**JOHN STEINBERG IS A FASCIST BABY | VLOG 23**
*Thump thump thump*
Tyler scrolled down the page. The rest of the results were variations on the same headline. A headline which Tyler could hardly read through his deafening heart and blurred vision and the tick-ticking that had somehow found its way out of the watch and into the very base of his skull.
**PRESIDENT STIENBERG PUBLISHES LIST OF CRITICS, OFFICIALLY SUPPORTS VIGILANTE VIOLENCE**
*Thump thump thump*
Someone was at the door.
| The six-year-old girl looked down at her watch. "Mommy, what's happening?"
"What?" Teresa looked down at her daughter's watch. Surely enough the numbers were climbing. Climbing rapidly. People were thinking about her daughter and thinking about her daughter a lot. Too much.
"Ana, baby, come on, we have to go." She scooped her daughter up, leaving the basket of groceries in the aisle and hurrying as fast as she could to the car. She had to hurry. She had to.
The five minute drive, Ana shivered in her seat. Mommy had never looked so pale.
Her daddy greeted them in the driveway, confused, then he grew just as pale as mommy.
Teresa unloaded what she had in the car and handed a bag to her husband. "Andrew, take Ana back inside. Get Amy. We have to go."
Andrew shook his head. "It's not possible. I set the detonators myself."
"It is. We have to hurry."
Little Amy was in her Star Fleet officer uniform when daddy carried her down into the basement. "Mommy, what's happening?"
Teresa sighed, opening the escape hatch. "Remember the white room? Then mommy and daddy were your mommy and daddy?"
"Yeah?"
Teresa kissed her daughter's forehead. "The people who put you in that room were not very nice people. Mommy and daddy stopped them."
"And you adopted me 'n Amy!"
"Yes, we did, sweetie," Andrew said, placing a warm hand on his daughter's back he picked her up and the went through the tunnels. "They were doing awful things."
"What things?" Amy snuggled into her father's back in her carrier.
Teresa and Andrew looked at each other, trying to find a way to explain what the lab had been doing, had been using their research to do.
Genetic replicas of famous people, with a few tweaked genetics, for parents to own and raise. Their research was use to grow those children in bio-chambers so they could sell 12-year-olds, 16-year-olds, even adult replicas on the market.
"Ana you would have been a toy."
Ana stared. "But I'm a little girl and little girls aren't toys."
"We think the exact same way, Ana," Teresa whispered into her daughter's hair as she passed.
Andrew kissed his daughter's head. "My little Anastasia." | 2016-12-29T19:32:02 | 2016-12-29T18:24:35 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] Everytime you die, you wake up six years old again on your first day of kindergarten, remembering all your past lives. Today is your twelfth restart. | "It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon," the teacher said in a gentle voice. "You'll be home before you know it."
I stopped crying. I knew where I was, but as always, I didn't know why.
And so began another long life. I became a doctor this time, but a woman accused me of groping her, a heinous act I hadn't committed in five lifetimes now at least, and I lost a highly publicized trial, lost my license to practice medicine, became an alcoholic and died in a gutter.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
I went the route of professional basketball. I had medical knowledge, remembered the training routines of NBA players from constantly following the teams, and I think you could argue I was the greatest shooter in NBA history. I lived a privileged life. I got inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame, and I spent my last few years in Miami, still fucking broads who had just graduated high school. I ended up dying at the ripe old age of 89.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
President of the United States? Meh. I tried. It didn't work out. I ended up groping another woman. Maybe it was the same chick from my life as a doctor. I couldn't remember.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
Tried my hands at being an assassin. My first murder attempt, it was a police sting. I shot a cop. 20 cops shot me.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
Invested in Bitcoin. The empire I created fell apart by 2025. I jumped off the tower in New York that beared my name.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
Nice, simple job as a custodian. Groped a woman, though. Her husband shot me to death.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
I decided to actually look for my parents this time. They were never in the picture. They'd been missing since I was 4 years old in my original life, before all the redos. My grandparents raised me. They looked young enough when I was a kid that people mistook them for my parents. We never corrected anyone.
This time, though, I pressured my grandparents to tell me what happened. I never did that before. I guess I never cared. But with infinite restarts comes the thirst for infinite knowledge.
As luck would it have it, my parents were alive, but not well. They were drug addicts. I wondered if they ever tried making contact in my past lives when I became rich...? I always heard rumblings from the ass kissers around me that so-and-so from Boston claimed to be my long lost cousin or some ho from Australia insisted she was my twin sister. Never anything about any parents, though.
I made it this life's mission to find them. In high school, I invented Facebook months before Zuckerberg could. I was a billionaire by my senior year. I invested tons of money into private investigators to locate my parents. Decades went by without luck. I died not knowing what became of them.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
I tried again. This time, I went the drug addict route. I don't know why I never tried street drugs before. I'd been missing out on a lot.
I joined a street gang. They were brothers to me. We ended up murdering my grandmother to get a fix, but it's okay. I'd see her next time and be one hundred times nicer.
I lost grasp of time inside a drug den. Many times I'd awaken in a jail cell, but California had weak laws. They always let me out due to overcrowding in jails.
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it."
... I don't know what happened. Maybe I overdosed?
Well, time to try something new. No. Never mind. On second thought, that was fun. I'm doing that again.
So I did. This time I skipped the slow introduction via trying weed, then alcohol, then coke, then molly, etc. I just jumped right into acid.
What a trip. I was high as hell. I could've sworn a painting was talking to me.
Wait... It *is*. It beckons me.
I.. I climb into it. Is this present or past? Is it happening now or am I relaying the tale in a new life? I don't know. I can't... tell...
I'm inside a new dimension. What is this? I feel like I'm floating. I am. The ground is waaaaaay below me.
"Son," says a voice. I look up. It's a man. Behind him is a woman.
"We gave you finite lives," the woman says.
"Mom? Dad?"
"You wasted them all."
"I don't understand."
"You wasted them all."
"But I wanted to find you guys!"
"You wasted them all."
"It's okay, Billy. Your parents will be back soon. You'll be home before you know it." | To be immortal is one thing. To live a *Groundhog Day* for eleven full lifetimes has now put me at the start of a dozen; For all I know, this may be what everyone experiences and I just remember them all for some reason. It all sounds absolutely bonkers . . . *expecially* if you are me. But not if you take my words *figuratively* as almost an Allegory or fictional-realism, then it all becomes a rather amusing story.
####My name is Tobias, and today is my first day of school. This is my 12th edition *Manifesto to the Void*
If I only hadn’t gotten us killed Lucy . . . but you showed me a world I hadn’t discovered in a lifetime of lifetimes. Say the word and I am ready to break all the rules, I will cross Oceans at 5 years old if I must. . . Plan Yoda is active, the Force is UP on Day#1. Other contact channels will open once I get ahold of my resources.
Fortunately for me the internet exists and I have a complete memory of 11 different life times. One brain is not really suited for that many experiences, so as a result my brain is like having 12 brains stacked one on top of the other occupying the same space (yes, it sucks.) I became a neurosurgeon in one of my lifetimes, and I also studied Epistemology and read miles of pages in Philosophy; still could never identify this little problem. That was Life 3, and it was way before I met *her.* My life has now become a hunger, a search for the only other one I have ever met who has the same *little problem.*
I met Lucy in Life 9, and I spent my last two lives in endless search of her. Normally, I spend School writing these to pass the time. As a young person, there is very little power in society. By Life 3 I got that message very clearly. Even the internet has its way of filtering the souls power, but not completely. The internet, I have come decipher, is a unique universe humans have created out of necessity. In order to access this universe, every person requires a portal device. If you understand these devices inside and out then the system becomes a free platform for growth. Even after 11 lifetimes, I cannot stop learning more and in a way that is a hunger of itself.
Knowledge is something every person can discover in themself. It is a very natural process to ‘come to terms’ with reality. After the Industrial Revolution, some people got lucky and made it big early enough to stay giants. The only giants who didn’t make it this way came about as a result of the biggest thing in my lifetime placement on the timeline. They became so powerful, they can’t lose that power, and the other giants own the other universe we created later. I tried starting a revolution once to realize that they have gotten controll pretty well over the masses by the start of my life. The ‘what if’ question that lead my first life so backwards weirdly starts to dissolve too after the first few lifetimes.
Turns out even if you live the ‘perfect’ life and do it all right, there is still a hunger to be felt. That is the only thing that drives the ship forward really; this *hunger* pulls me forward like a void pulls in everything. It has never changed from life one to now, and even in that perfect life I still woke up for my first day of school by the end of it. I won’t try and change you Lucy, I understand my folly in Life 10. I want your soul to drive me this time, our differences are nothing like this hunger and your difference is key to our freedom. We may never escape this repeat, but I want to be with you through life 10,000 and beyond to be truly free. You cannot kill yourself, or you’ll wake up the same day like nothing happened just like me. I know you are out there somewhere. . . Why won't you talk to me? | 2017-12-13T12:15:49 | 2017-12-13T09:50:11 | 140 | 18 |
[WP] Due to a clerical error the soul of the one destined to be the Dark Lord, leader of the armies of darkness, scourge of all that is good and holy is sent to a loving household and grows up to be a well adjusted individual that just happens to have unfathomable eldritch powers | It was supposed to be easy to create a malevolent overlord. Humans were inherently evil weren't they? So how it had gone so badly wrong was honestly still a mystery to Caalndral. That didn't mean he was in any less trouble, however. Caalndral turned the corner in the dank grey office block, and paused before entering a particularly dingy room.
Lucifer sat on a comfortable chair opposite from him, aggressively tapping his talons on the desk. He didn't look particularly like the Prince of hell. In fact he looked extremely similar to an old headmaster that Caalndral had been terrified of when he was a human.
"So. I think you know why you're here." Satan pushed the circular glasses up his nose.
"Ahhh. Yes. The... Issues with the Dark Lord." Caalndral murmured.
"ISSUE? The DARK LORD, the representation of all that is dark and evil within the human race, is a CHEERLEADER! We have I think, more than an issue. This is a crisis, and I cannot even conceive of the shocking incompetence that it must have taken for this to happen."
For a moment the devil's head transformed into a mass of poisonous snakes as he yelled at Caalndral.
"Well... It was supposed to be perfect. We picked her so carefully, a woman so deep into the gutter herself that she could only ever provide a child with a life as miserable as her own." Caalndral had been to visit her, before they had been sure, when there were still a few women in the running. He had never met someone with less behind their eyes, and from that moment he'd known he wanted her.
"Then what happened?" The devil asked, part anger, part genuine curiosity.
"It was the strangest thing. She found out that she was six months pregnant and... Everything changed. We thought that she would resent the baby, that she would hate that she wasn't even given enough time to prepare for it, or even decide whether she wanted it."
"She didn't?"
"No. It was like... All of her life she had wanted a purpose. And in six seconds flat she decided it was protecting that baby." Caalndral knew that his voice sounded bitter.
"So by the time the baby was ready to be born, she'd gone cold turkey on everything. From the heroin to the Starbucks, suddenly what she did to her body actually mattered to her. And then what other people did started to matter too, because she managed to get rid of the abusive drug dealer boyfriend. We predicted that if he was around she'd never kick the drugs, and if he was the father of the baby she'd never kick him. But we were wrong."
"So she just... Decided to be a better person?" Satan sighed disbelievingly.
"Well... Yes. She had the baby, and then after a while she got a job. And eventually she made enough money to move away from the bad neighborhood, into a slightly nicer one. So the kid went to a slightly nicer school and did better. And then she met a man who actually cared for her, and well... The dark lord didn't have the emotionally damaging childhood we all hoped for."
"And that's all it took? A job and an apartment? That's the barrier between good and evil that we've fought so hard to destroy." Satan looked at Caalndral despairingly for answers.
Caalndral didn't say anything else, because he didn't think the devil would understand. But there was something else there. From the first time she knew she'd be having a baby, she had loved it. And that was the thing which none of them had been able to predict. She'd loved that baby so desperately, so much more than she had ever loved herself, and it wasn't a slight thing at all.
And so she'd always told her child that he could be whatever he wanted to be, and what he wanted to be was a cheerleader. | 'Hello there, Adam,' said a voice.
Adam (formerly Voldemort, though he had no knowledge of that) turned around.
'Simon,' he said evenly.
His brother looked at him with a vague disapproval.
'I heard what you did at Mrs. Jones',' he said, putting down his badge on a table.
'Technically I'd be obligated to inform my colleagues and have you arrested for conning,' he sighted. 'But that wouldn't help you, would it? You've just got a slightly malfunctioning moral compass, and I have a suggestion that might help better. You don't seem to know what to do, after your last study. By studying as a cop, you'll have both a job and a study. The money could help you a lot - after you've paid Mrs Jones off. *If* you'll study as a cop, I won't have you arrested. That should cover the basics.'
'It was only a little fib, ' Adam protested.
'Adam,' his brother replied calmly. 'That little fib could have ruined her.'
'Well, she shouldn't have been so goddamn *stupid* then!' Adam burst out. 'I mean, who'd hell listens to that rubbish and actually *believes* it?!'
'Adam,' Simon warned. 'Not everyone is as clever as you. You must learn to accept that, instead of lashing out and blaming them. They *can't help it.*'
He didn't say what worried him the most: that Mrs. Jones had felt **compelled** to listen to him, to believe him. 'I'd never have believed 'im in my right mind, Simon, you *have* to believe,' she had sobbed into his shoulder. And he had, because this wasn't the first time something unusual happened around Adam. At eleven, he had, as a teacher described it 'made someone shut up'. At sixteen, he had made his action figures move around. Now, he had compelled someone to believe something they otherwise wouldn't have, in a desperate of... what? Boredom? Frustration? Just a malfunctioning moral compass? A test? Simon had no idea, but he really didn't care. Adam was his brother, and generally well-intentioned. He'd help him in whatever way possible.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
And that was how Voldemort became a genuine cop (and later something else) | 2020-04-08T09:47:21 | 2020-04-08T09:45:33 | 43 | 20 |
[WP] In a world where lying doesn't exist, you are the worst supervillain: Technically True Man. | All Teddy ever wanted was to join the Injustice League. So when his application was rejected for the 27th time, he had a real problem. Not the rejection, that was pretty much on par for Teddy. But he was never going to hear the end of it from his archnemesis, Lawful Good Woman.
"You're just not evil enough," Chronically Late Man said, shrugging. "Sorry."
"But there has to be something I can do," Teddy said. "I'm Technically True Man! Can't you hear the evil in my name?"
"Fine." There was a glint in Chronically Late Man's eyes. "Apply again and I'll give you everything you've ever wanted. But you have to do something evil right now. Something that will impress even me."
Teddy thought for a moment. "Okay."
He dialed Lawful Good Woman's number on his cell phone. She answered after a few rings.
"What?" An eleven-year-old girl's voice asked. "I'm at recess right now."
Another thing Teddy hated about Lawful Good Woman. Her name was technically untrue.
He put her on speakerphone.
"Hey, Madison, I saw your mom at the supermarket. I know we're enemies and all, but I thought you deserved to know."
"You saw her?! But... how is she alive? Did Occasional Miracle Man decide to take my case?"
Teddy grinned. The joy in Lawful Good Woman's voice was unbearable. To see it all come crashing down would be his greatest achievement.
"I saw her at the supermaket... *five years ago.*"
There was a long silence as Lawful Good Woman processed the fact that her mother had only died three years ago. It was technically true that Teddy had seen her at the supermarket. He hadn't been lying. But it wasn't really what Lawful Good Woman had wanted to believe. He heard her start to cry on the other end of the phone.
Teddy turned eagerly to Chronically Late Man. "Did I do it? Am I in?"
"We'll let you know."
\~\~
Seven months later, Teddy still hadn't heard from Chronically Late Man. Which was to be expected, of course. His 28th application had yet to be accepted or rejected. Surely his greatest achievement had been truly evil enough to win over the Injustice League.
Bu today, finally! There was an envelope addressed to him from the Injustice League. It was in a large envelope, too, not one of those small ones with the rejections.
His heart pounding, Teddy tore open the envelope. A single piece of gold-foil paper fell to the ground. He picked it up. On it were four words.
"EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER WANTED"
Teddy fell to his knees in despair. *Apply again and I'll give you everything you've ever wanted.*
Technically true. | It was simple, really. It didn’t take much. I didn’t even need a mask or a cape. I didn’t even need a plan really.
I turned the corner on 72nd street, headed right towards the bank. I wore, not a bandana or mask, just normal street clothes.
I stepped through the large glass doors and into the even larger room. I walked past the line and went towards the back counter. I was stopped by a man in a blue uniform, clearly a security guard.
“You, what are you doing here? You can’t be back here.”
“I’m the banks fund manager, I need to make a large deposit for a client who, unfortunately, cannot bd here today.”
“Oh, my apologies sir.” I filled him back behind the registers and he popped one open. “How much will you need?”
“All of it. My client is one of the largest of this bank. Do you mind putting them in that bag there? Thank you.” He did as I asked and then handed me the bag. That day I came walking out of the building with over 13 Thousand Dollars. By far not my biggest, but, it’ll do.
The headlines ran the next day: Technically True Man strikes again! The news station was interviewing the Security Guard from the day before. All I could do was chuckle. I thought popped into my head. This time, let’s try soon get while the news station is there. I hopped out of my seat and out the door. | 2018-10-23T07:08:11 | 2018-10-23T06:08:12 | 223 | 133 |
[WP] Strength: 99 Endurance: 99 Speed: 99 Charisma: 99 Power: 99 Intelligence: 99 Magic: 99 Luck:....-5 | I am a cursed man.
It didn't matter what cup I chose. The ball would never be underneath.
I've seduced many ladies, and that earned me quite unpleasant surprises. They hid things. It didn't matter if I went for the short, delicate one; or the tall, broad one. One way or the another, something would go terribly wrong. The incessant scratch I have in my private parts, and the burn I feel whenever I pee is just a tiny bit proof of my misadventures.
But my cursed fortune follows me everywhere. I once lead powerful armies, pillaging entire villages of rebels, widowing their wives in the name of our king. I bathed in gold, swam in wealth. I had an unbreakable reputation. Yet, little would I know, that would be the end of me.
I lead an army of a hundred thousand through an alternate route toward the enemy's last standing city. There was no possibility of losing. Their forces were ten thousand men or less, and in case something went poorly, we would simply besiege the city.
That battle is known in history as the Finger of the Gods. A tempest unleashed like no man had ever seen. Lightning broke the skies. They fell upon my army by the hundreds, obliterating the vast majority of my men. They struck me too, yet my fortune forbid me to die. They did nothing but scar my body, leaving me standing atop a mountain of calcinated corpses. My sons among them.
I surrendered to the enemy. Their city was left intact. My unbreakable reputation, was, after all, broken. They didn't put me in jail, they didn't torture me, they didn't do anything. They claimed I was cursed by the gods, and I believed it, for since that day, those words have proven nothing but absolute truth.
Now my hair is graying, and the streets are my home. I count the days waiting to die, yet they won't come. I've sliced my throat with the sharpest knives, but they wouldn't cut. I've hung myself from the thickest ropes, but they always broke. I've drowned myself dozens of times, but I was always saved.
I refuse to sleep, for the nightmares haunt me. I've grown fearful, cautious of my every step, for I don't know what disaster they might unleash.
I am a cursed man, playing the game of fate against Fate itself.
-------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall - For more stories | Said to be smarter than the wise man. Braver than the Centaurians. Stronger than the Oxen out in the fields. Said to lift a gallon each day, cast that gallon into rain and let the fields drink the new bounty strong. His teeth had glistened with pure milk and his stride held true pride, yearning for an adventure at his feet. But the man had a strong achilles heel for though he had it all, he lacked a crucial component for his life.
Oh, foolish Fergus Magni. Though blessed man among men, how Lady Luck turned her head away. For with a simple sneeze, he’d be casting trouble over his head. A firestorm to burn down his house. Even when he walks with certain demeanor, he’d certainly fall over twice a day. If it wasn’t something, it would become something and he’d never found much solace. Yet his strength endured him many strives.
But no one wanted good ol’ Fergus out with them any day, out of fear of a god’s angry smite. | 2018-05-02T13:11:56 | 2018-05-02T12:52:15 | 330 | 94 |
[WP] A wizard tutor realizes that, for some odd reason, his client is a prodigy who’s purposefully been hiding their abilities all these years. | The cheerful training scarecrow was no more. In its place, Mage Raymond noted, though his overtaxed brain was having trouble making sense of the sight, was a slim tower of flame.
Raymond turned to his student, whose eyes were wide and guilty, like his dog after an illicit meal of shoes. He’d never seen her look like this before -- Clarissa Pluffer, his longest-running tutoring pupil, often looked haughty, bored, disgusted, or some combination of all three, but guilt was not part of the standard rotation. She straightened her spine when he looked at her, and thrust her hands, fingertips still smoking, behind her back.
“Miss Pluffer…” Raymond wasn’t sure where to start. “Did you just...successfully perform pyrotechnic magic?”
Clarissa didn’t answer. She shifted a bit on her feet, and startled when a tendril of smoke floated from behind her back into her line of vision.
“But the exercise was to change the scarecrow’s face,” Raymond said. He was speaking to himself as much as her, trying to decode what had just happened for both of them. “Glamour magic. Simple stuff.” He stared at her for a moment. “You’ve never so much as altered one stalk on that poor scarecrow before today. I think he’d started to get rather comfortable, after four years!” Raymond let out a high-pitched, undignified laugh before pressing his fist over his mouth to stifle it.
Clarissa looked like she might cry. Her hands were shaking slightly as she moved them back to her front, then gingerly touched the fingers of her left hand with her right, as if checking their temperature.
“I’m sorry, Mage Raymond,” she said, not looking at him. “My aunt will have the scarecrow replaced. I know you use the same one with the other students.”
He was momentarily at a loss for words at yet another first. Clarissa Pluffer did not apologize. She did not consider the plight of his other students, who did not have aunts who could pay for four years of private tutoring with absolutely no payoff. She did not do magic at all, let alone high level fire spells that he himself had only mastered in the last year or so.
“Where did this come from?” he finally sputtered out, a little less gracefully than he would have preferred. “Have...have you ever done anything like this before?”
There was a long pause, during which Clarissa studied her fingers intently.“Yes,” she finally whispered.“Why did you hide it from me? I’ve been teaching you for four years! You know full well you’ve never shown the slightest inclination or talent for wizarding. I’ve tried to convince your aunt to stop paying for these lessons, for god’s sake. You don’t even like me!”
Raymond was embarrassed that the last sentence had slipped out, as he should have been well past caring about his popularity with teenagers. He covered for his growing mortification and confusion by turning around again and putting out the scarecrow with dousing spell.
Over the gentle swish of the water, he heard something. It sounded a bit like a tree growing, or a cocoon tearing open, or a cloud swelling with rain. When the scarecrow fire had been reduced to a pile of ash, he turned back, ready to face whatever Clarissa’s answer was, grimly preparing for whatever four-year-long joke she had pulled, for which he was sure to be the punchline.
But Clarissa was no longer there. Instead, a tall, hunched man was standing where she had been, his hangdog face lined and tired, examining his nails. Raymond froze, his mouth hanging open in shock.
“Well, Ray,” the man said, looking up and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’ve made a mess of this mission. They’ll be coming any moment. You remember how to get to the safe house?”
They ran. | “I just wanted-“ Charlie said, trying to explain himself to his teacher.
“It is irrelevant!” Thomas gruffly responded. “You’ve taken years of my time, my life! It is my responsibility to pass on the craft, to expose my knowledge to future generations. You know firsthand how we pass our skills down, a teacher taking a single or a few pupils, and working with them for years. Their reputation and livelihood depends on it. And you forsake me like this.
“Sir, I’m sorry. It just happened, by accident I mean. I came to inquire about my studies, I’d heard you were an expert in incantations.” The words spilled from Charlie’s mouth. Thomas’ brow remained furrowed, his face contorted in anger and disappointment.
“Ah. So you take years of my time and steal my life’s work. Only fitting. You were taught incantations four years ago, and yet you stayed.” Thomas glared at him, daring a contradiction.
“I had no one else.”
Thomas looked aghast, and burst out laughing. “You had no one, boy? Go to a bar, have a beer, meet a lass. I am not your friend.”
Charlie took the statement in the gut, tears welled in his eyes. His legs suddenly strained to move, to leave this angry man. “You were kind. You listened. I was new to this area; you were the first person to truly connect with me.” Meaningless begging words.
“The first person? Did you even try?” Thomas spat. “Or did you work, come home, sleep, and repeat? Life takes effort, boy. You took the easy route.”
“I did try. I tried at work. I talked to everyone, but shared interests with none.” Charlie responded, knowing Thomas would understand his side eventually.
“No one makes their friends at work. Life is not so simple. You have to put effort into being happy outside of your daily obligations. This is not how you make a friend or form relationships.” Thomas said. “Get out of my home.”
Thomas’ piercing stare wavered no response. Charlie turned and walked away slowly, his stomach aching with shame and anxiety.
Charlie feared the future, the work he would have to put in, the new people he would have to speak to, the new friends he would have to try to make.
A little bit of him was hopeful, though. | 2021-07-07T17:36:48 | 2021-07-07T17:24:58 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] One day you you wonder if thinking about thinking about thinking and so on would be an effective defense against telepaths. All of sudden, people around you start collapsing and convulsing on the ground. | I was at a party in Sedona when it all happened. Some freaky new age thing put on by a local cult. I wasn't buying the spiel, but they were rumored to give *very* wild parties, and I had crashed one.
It was the sort of affair where everyone started talking about peace and universal love but as the evening went on, it became clear just what kind of "loooove" we were talking about here. Everybody was raving (in more ways than one) about the punch, which someone had clearly spiked with something pretty ominous. I never found out what it was. I wasn't exactly being abstemious myself, but I stuck mainly to my own bottle. It wasn't strictly a BYOB kind of thing, but I guess I'm just a paranoid antisocial type. So sue me.
Anyway, I got enough in me that the edge was off, but right about then I was hanging out in the corner. I had been talking to a hot blonde a little earlier who seemed kind of promising until she invited a boyfriend to join our private party, and the eye he was giving me made me nervous. Clearly not having sampled what they had sampled, I made an excuse and stepped off for a little air.
On my way through the crowd I had overheard some orange robed guru type in the middle of the room, surrounded by groupies, spouting some philosophical mumbo jumbo in a slightly slurred voice. He was talking about how everything we are is a product of what we think. I had caught his eye for a second, so I raised my glass and commented: "I think therefore I am, dude."
He looked up, smiling enigmatically, and replied, "Precisely!" Then turned back to his pack of fawning disciples. It wasn't my usual thing, but on this occasion, it became one of those moments that when you're sufficiently blitzed will stick in your head, turning over and over and won't let you go. You become obsessed with it. You know what I mean?
So there I am thinking about how I owe my existence to thinking, or some such nonsense, when it occurs to me if that's the case, I must be doubly real, because here I was thinking *about* thinking. What did they call that? Metacognition? Yeah, that was it. I was being metacognizant, baby. Is that a word? I can't remember right now. But then, wouldn't you know I just had to bump it up a notch?
If I could be twice as real by thinking about thinking (my now clearly drunken mind reasoned), then could I be three times as real if I thought about thinking about thinking? Or was it exponential? Oh hell yeah. I was sure it would be. So that's like… what? Eight times as real? That was just too good to pass up. I mean come on, dude! Who wouldn't want to be eight times as real, right? But what did it mean to think about thinking about thinking? How do you do that?
I didn't noticed the people around me who were sweating profusely and rubbing their temples like they had the mother of all migraines. A couple of them stumbled and fell over. I failed to see this either, though to be fair, at first no one else did either. They were having problems of their own.
I continued pondering my riddle. How does one think about thinking about thinking? It sounded like some weird mental martial arts. You know: where you train your mind to resist telepaths or something. I warmed to the concept. Oh yeah. *FU, telepaths,* I gleefully mentally broadcast. *Take this! Keeeyaaaaa!*
And then I began. Thinking about thinking… I grasped for the concept. It eluded me. I pursued. It became like a loop in my head. I chased it, and it fled on before me in an infinite circle of thought. For one brief shining moment I would think I had a handle on it, but then the room wiggled and swirled, distracting me. I kept at it. Thinking… about thinking… about…
Somebody screamed, shattering my thought stream. I turned to find a woman in a white robe collapsing to the ground clutching at her temples, digging her fingernails into them until they came away slicked with red. My attention was seized and spun about as someone on the other side of the room overturned a table as he flailed and crashed to the ground, taking the punch bowl with him.
That was when I saw them all. Every last person in the room was either already on the floor convulsing, moaning, screaming, or else staggering, retching, and looking like they were soon to join the others on the floor.
Oh. My. God. Did I do this? What had I done? *I'm sorry, telepaths,* I mentally sent out, but they did not seem to hear me. Maybe I had deafened them. In fact, I thought I had killed them. I didn't mean to.
When the police arrived, they tried to tell me I had the right to remain silent, but I was beside myself. I just kept babbling about how I hadn't meant to kill everybody. That's how I came to be arrested and charged with poisoning the punch bowl. But I swear, it wasn't me. By then the orange robed guru type was nowhere to be found. He had split the scene, probably to start a new cult somewhere far away. It was him. I know it.
The only thing *I'm* guilty of is thinking too much.
| First writing prompt thing I'm actually trying on, sorry for mistakes!
I sat at my desk while the teacher was talking. I was bored, we learned how to do this y=mx+b in 8th grade!
Sure, we were just a pre-algebra class, but everyone I ranted to about this said the same thing- "Been there, done that."
I don't make a point to not pay attention in class, but my ADD really kicks in when I get bored. I focus my attention on a question that's been bugging me for awhile; how does an original thought work? We seem to have a limitless potential for thinking thoughts we've never thought before. I don't mean somebody telling you about something and then you comprehending it, I mean you just coming up with a thought, no matter how stupid, that you have never thought of or were aware that the concept of that even existed before.
Thoughts are just signals in the brain, I think, but how does that work for new thoughts? Do they just steal bits from other thoughts to make one coherent new thought? Like, start with a rainbow unicorn, give it a giraffe's tongue but not mouth so it just flops out, give it bat wings, then instead of a horn give it a thick octopus tentacle in its place. I mean, I told you about it, but I thought of it first. Did the thought steal parts of old thoughts to form itself?
Maybe I'm looking at it the wrong way, maybe I should ask what they are made of first? Yeah, probably. Side note: This is what r/vegan calls tying your mind into a pretzel. I like pretzels.
Thoughts are, like, electrical impulses and chemicals(???), so will we run out of chemicals to think if we think too much? Will thinking about thinking about that unicorn abomination I made up earlier use up twice as much materials since the act of thinking uses chemicals, but at the same time, I'm also thinking about that Octo-Uniraffebat thing? What about thinking about thinking about thinking about it? Three times as much? Thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about it? Thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about it? This went on for awhile until I noticed the teacher, that bitch Mr. Manfrest scowling at me with a mix of anger and fear in his eyes. He also was shaking, presumably with rage… but why?
Couldn't have been me, I've been quietly straining my brain, I look around, my classmates had similar expressions on their faces.
Suddenly, when I completely dedicated my mind to figuring out what the fuck was up, there was a loud thud, Mr. Manfrest hitting the ground and spasming, followed by a louder collective thud, then another, all of my classmates heads hitting their desks, then all falling to the ground at about the same time seizing like Bitchfrest.
I was scared, I didn't know what I did, was there a neurotoxin filling the room that I was somehow immune to? Did me thinking make them so angry that they all spasmed out? Of course not, they'd all have to be mind readers-!
Why did they all glare at me, even Ethan, the love of my life but also the one who never gives me the time of day, with such ferocity? If they were mind readers, they would tell me to stop before I started to think! Maybe I just thought too fast, or maybe my thoughts somehow triggered… this? What was I thinking about? Thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking and so on. What if mind readers and that thought didn't compute? Ah fuck, that makes sense, sorta, at least to me while I'm kind of panicking.
That's a lot of stimulus, then when I became suddenly alert I ripped it away, kind of like if you had a huge storm with a lot of rain happening, then God said, "Fuck you," and ripped the dam holding the reservoir back open. They couldn't deal with the huge amount of stimuli then the sudden change.
I'm now realizing that I should be going to go get help then wondering about how I might of just killed a room full of telepaths. Whoops. | 2017-03-15T12:17:56 | 2017-03-15T12:05:34 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] On your 16th birthday, everyone is granted a spirit guide from their past, be that a fallen mentor, former pet, or even something such as a bug you once squished. You wake up to find the spirit of your old pet rock, who had fallen and broken years ago, but whose pieces you've always kept. | I couldn't wait for this day to come. I was hoping uncle John would come to me, or maybe my great grandpa who fought in World War 2. Or maybe even a relative from thousands of years ago who could bestow their ancient wisdom upon me.
Instead, I got a rock.
Willie the Cross-Eyed Rock was a good friend of mine when I was a toddler. I think I still have his remains around here somewhere, but I have my doubts about his abilities as a spirit guide.
"Is this some sort of paranormal joke I don't understand?" I asked Willie.
"..." he replied.
His googly eyes seemed to stare past my physical form and into my soul. It made me feel uneasy. Exposed. Vulnerable. Is this how everyone feels when they turn 16?
"Are you going to say anything? Give me any life advice? Anything at all?" I ask, feeling progressively more insane about talking to a semi-translucent stone.
"..." continued Willie.
"Okay, never mind," I said. "I could really use some help though. I have no idea what I want to do with my life after I graduate. I have no idea how to talk to girls. I want to get into a good college, but precalc is kicking my ass. Greg and Josh are probably going to go to MIT and I'll never see them again. I was really, really hoping my guide would come and help me figure these things out, but all I get is a rock! This is so unfair!"
"..." Willie said.
I threw myself onto my bed and let out an exasperated sigh. "I guess I'll just figure it all out on my own."
"!!!" said Willie.
I felt a calm energy calling me from the other side of the room. Something was compelling me to pick Willie up. I rolled out of bed and walked towards my dresser where Willie sat on a stack of textbooks.
"!!! !!!"
I picked him up and placed him in the palm of my hand. Immediately upon picking him up, I'm filled with serenity. My eyes meet his googly eyes, and memories of being a little kid, playing in the woods, riding bikes, jumping out of swings, and playing hide-and-seek come back to me as if I just lived through them. Tears streamed down my smiling face. I continued to look into his plastic, lifeless eyes, and visions of me going to college, falling in love, getting married and having kids poured into my mind.
"Are these real?" I said, trying to prevent more tears from escaping.
"..." said Willie.
"I guess I'll never get a straight answer out of you, will I?" I said.
I didn't know if Willie the Cross-Eyed Rock could see the future, but after that I couldn't help but feel like things would work out. I put Willie down on my nightstand and laid back down in my bed.
"Thanks Willie," I said. "Goodnight."
"..." said Willie. | "What? Why are you so surprised"?
"You are telling me that you are Miss Pebbles? Jeez I was bad at coming up with names". Andy said as he stares at the spirit.
"Why yes! I also like you to know that I really do love the name you gave me"! The spirit spoke as it floats around Andy.
"Do rocks even have souls"? Being so baffled at the thought. "I never heard of someone having a rock spirit"!
"Well only when one is given a name. Plus they only become your guide if they were properly taken cared of". Pebbles folded their arms as it sits in the air.
"The only reason I took such good care of the rock was because my mom told me that if I could take care of a rock so well that she would let me have a living pet of my own". Andy then stopped, looking at the spirit as he felt like the truth would hurt its feelings.
Pebbles tilted it's head as it looks at him. "Why yes I know, I was there. I must say, buttercup was a very pretty kitty". The spirit giggled as it looks over at the broken parts of the rock. "All that for you to get a kitten. I must say, I trained you well".
"You aren't mad"? He stood up and walks over to the pieces. Picking one up.
"I'm very proud of you. You grew up to be a very fine young man. I'm looking forward to being your spirit guide". Pebbles would smile and give him a hug. | 2022-11-01T15:27:16 | 2022-11-01T14:45:47 | 34 | 16 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | My first born came with the years first rain
Screaming like a whistling steam engine train.
It was only then my wife and I saw
That it wasn't what we were expecting at all.
My baby was black while we are both white
I shouted expletives at my wife out of spite.
*"How dare you! How could you! I thought you were true!
I loved you my dear, but Sue, we are through! "*
"I have to say something, a confession most dire.
I'm a fraud, a phony, a fake and a liar.
This confession is truly disgusting and sick.
But my love I'm afraid that I do have a dick."
Taken aback I looked at my wife.
This woman who I chose as the love of my life.
*"I have a confession as well, I've been terribly rude*
*But Sue I must tell you that I'm not a dude. "*
My wife, or my husband, I don't really know
Was surprised which is understood I suppose.
How was it born? Where is it from?
I really hope it did not come from her bum.
Afraid and abashed I started to cry
"am I gay? Am I straight? I must be into guys. "
During my existential crisis of sorts
My child began to change, twist, and contort.
It resembled a child no more than spaghetti
With arms like noodles and claws at the ready.
Wait claws?! What the hell is happening here?!
My child's a demon, a monster I fear!
I started to run out of the dark damned hospital
When my feet lost their footing and I began to spiral.
I was out of control, flying out into space
When the monster was caught on my untied shoe lace.
I floated there staring at the earth for some time,
my thoughts started turning to feelings divine.
I turned to the monster to witness my fate
Only to see the whole beast dissipate.
As I floated alone in the vast void of time
My body became nothing more than a slime.
Traveling quickly through the universe now
Passing sun after sun, burning and turning more brown,
I saw everything as I knew it should be,
And I saw that truly everything was me.
As I reached what I could only call the end,
I grew ever smaller limbs starting to bend.
I cried and I screamed, a cacophonous moan
Undulating for innumerable eternities alone.
I saw through the void of eternal damnation
A light! A hole I was just able to squeeze in.
A tight fit, so painful, I could barely see
As I fell through the hole, someone caught onto me.
I came into the world with the years first rain
Screaming like a whistling steam engine train. | James was sitting in his 3rd hour biology class talking to his crush, Jessica.
All of the sudden, James felt something overcome his body
"Oh no" James shrieked as he sat in his sweat covered chair
He felt a hot luscious liquid trying to escape from his rectal gates
He got up and made a mad dash for the door, but it was too late
The floodgates had opened and diarrhea violently spewed out of the ends of his jeans
He stood there frozen, in shock, as the class stared him in the eyes
Slowly, each classmate got up and started to clap. Soon, the entire classroom was roaring with excitement, frantically clapping and cheering James on
His crush, Jessica, sprinted to James and tackled him to the floor
They immediately started to fornicate on the shit covered floor.
Their biology teacher, Al Sharpton, quickly got out his 1997 Sony camcorder and started recording the fecal fornication.
He was in the middle if climaxing when he heard something strange
"James" "JAMES!"
James awoke in a fiery sweat
He looked above and saw a black and white silhouette
It was a NFL referee. He had gone unconscious on the 27 yard line in the middle of a Sam Diego Chargers football game from a helmet to helmet hit.
Jessica was no where to be found and James was disappointed to find out the best day of his life was only a dream.
Regardless of his sadness, he had to get up and do the only thing that was right, play football.
James is Phillip Rivers. | 2016-11-27T11:29:09 | 2016-11-27T10:55:05 | 87 | 10 |
[WP] In a world where everyone survives off of basic income, companies have to convince you to work for them.
Credit to u/SearingEnigma & u/abkleinig for the idea. | Universal
Day one.
It had been twenty-four hours since it had been made official. A living wage. Paid to everyone. No matter if you work or not. No strings attached. No means testing. No anything. No snotty government looking at whether you were spending the money, or an angry statistician looking at a piece of paper shouting loudly about unemployment and growth.
It was hell.
Sally was thirteen hours into her eight hour shift in HR, and taking her third phonecall in as many minutes.
“Yes, Sally Wright speaking,” she said, unable to keep the fatigue and exasperation out of her voice.
“Hi Sally, it's John. I'm just phoning to let you know I'm not coming in today.”
“John,” Sally said, her eyes staring blearily into space as she tried to catch the name. “R&D?” She hazarded.
“Sorry, John Speil,” he clarified. “Yes, R&D, scheduled today from four-am - twelve-noon,” he said.
“Right, right,” she said, drumming on her keyboard and summoning his profile. “And could I ask your reason?”
“Well,” John said, and paused. All of them had paused. She felt like screaming. “It's just, what with the living wage and all, it just doesn't really seem necessary that I come in, does it?”
“Excuse me?” Sally said. She could understand the nickle-and-dime minimum wage guys, but John was on double her salary. Even with the overtime she was earning she doubt she got quite as good as deal as him. She wondered idly whether four in the morning was unsociable hours, before glancing at the clock. 3:14.
“Well, the way I see it I'm worth more to you guys now, aren't I?” John continued.
“If it's a pay dispute then you'll have to take it up with your manager. If you take days off without cause this will reflect poorly on your permane-” Sally said,
“Yeah, yeah, but we've got the power now, don't we? Why don't you tell my manager to get in touch with me when he wants to talk?”
Sally was taken aback. It had been the most brasen phone-call she'd had all night. “But... I...” she said.
“Sorry Sally. Hope you have a good morning,” John said, and then he was gone, the line going dead.
She looked up slowly from her desk. The rest of the office was deserted. There was a momentary calm, as the receiver lay in her hand and the dark night hid any trace of sunshine through the blinds of the office. It was so very peaceful. There were no cars outside. There were no interns busily burning the midnight oil as they struggled to please management.
She looked over at the wall which formed a side office, away from the main floor of the office. Through it she could see her shift manager, looking very stressed, her hand on her forehead as she talked urgently into her phone's receiver.
Sally stood up. She wasn't sure what had made her do that. She hadn't put the phone back. A quick glance told her there were four calls waiting. She stood frozen, receiver still in hand. She turned as if in a dream, and regarded the phone in her hand like some strange foreign object. She realized in that moment she hated her job. She hated every moment of it. She had never really known what to do with her life, but she knew it hadn't been this. She imagined going home. She imagined holding her boyfriend. She imagined hiding away in some cave somewhere. Let the successful people be successful, she thought suddenly. Let them all be who they wanted to be. She didn't want children. She didn't want a fancy mansion with guards at every corner. She didn't want her smart car she used exclusively for getting to and from work.
Most of all, she decided, she didn't want to answer that phone again.
She pushed open the door of her shift manager's office. It was a timid push, as if she were checking it to see if she could – almost as if she expected it to resist her action.
“I'm sorry, I'm just going to have to put you on hold for a moment,” her manager said, clicking a button on the phone. She looked up at Sally. “I was in the middle of a call, what's the deal Sally-O?”
“Jen, I...” Sally said, but then stopped. She didn't know what she was going to say. She realized she could say anything she wanted. She realized that for once it was actually true – they needed her far more than she needed them.
Jen just smiled a defeated sort of smile. “Go home, Sal,” she said. “I've got it covered here,” she lied.
Sally nodded. “I could...” she began, but where could she even begin? What was she even doing? Was she trying to bargain her way – to make this worth her while?
Jen shook her head. “You know there's nothing I can do. I'm surprised you stuck with it as long as you did – that'll count for something when we renegotiate contracts, y'know.” she said, proudly.
Sally smiled. Jen smiled. They smiled at each other. She couldn't remember the last time she had smiled at Jen. Jen was a hard-ass, always pushing her, always trying to make her succeed, and for what? Barely more than the unqualified pickers and packers in distribution earned. She hated Jen, didn't she? Or did she just envy her? she wondered. | They're banging on the door again. They always are. It's my god damn doctorate. They just won't leave me alone.
"Come on, Jess. Just go talk to them."
I massaged my temples with sweaty fingers.
"I don't *need* them. I'm happy now!"
She looked me in the eyes, pleading.
"You know they won't stop until they have you. You're too valuable."
"I know."
"Then *go*. They'll take you anywhere you want."
"What I want is to stay here. That's the one thing they'd never give me."
She ran her fingers through her messy hair, exasperated.
"Just go. I don't have time to argue."
I looked at her with surprise.
"Why not? We have all the time in the world here."
She shook her head.
"Not me. Look, Jess... I've been talking to them. They've offered me a job in chemical engineering. You know how much I love that! And it's not like I get to do much here."
She gestured at our grubby, not to mention empty, little apartment room.
"I had to do it. I just couldn't spend another minute holed up in here."
It made sense, so I nodded. I too had been craving the feel of wind on my shoulders and rain in my hair.
She smiled at me. Yes, I would do it.
I pushed up off the tiny brown couch with both hands, trembling greatly.
It was about time.
I walked, or rather jittered, towards the door. It emitted loud banging noises, no doubt coming from a fist on the other side.
I grasped the door knob.
Yes, it was time to get a job.
Edit: Here's a second part, lovelies.
~*~
Slowly, yes, painfully slowly, I twisted the doorknob. I could hardly turn it, I was sweating so much.
It clicked, signalling that it had reached the proper turning point. The banging emanating from the door ceased immediately.
I squeaked the door open, one millimetre at a time. I could hear laborious breathing. It wasn't mine, though. *My* breath was hissing through my teeth as I trembled.
When I finally managed to open the door all the way, what stood there was... not what I expected. It was a tall, lanky man, wearing remnants of the ancient traditional business suit. He looked more terrified than I was. In fact, he hardly seemed like he was alive at this point.
Then, he cracked the silence with whispered words.
"I've been here a long time. Excuse me if I can't really talk properly anymore."
My debilitating fear was gone in an instant, although my suspicion remained.
"My job- my only job, really- has been to get you."
I looked at his hands, and saw blood running down the knuckles. There were large bruises that arched from the first joint of hs fingers, down to the middle of the back of his hand.
"I'm no good at anything really, so, well, this was it. The one thing I hated most about the world."
He was a person. I guess I hadn't been expecting that, although I don't know what I had been expecting.
"Please, doctor. We need you. The whole world needs you."
I looked at the landscape behind him. It was as it always had been: black and red and brown, stained with a million human corpses. But... some of them looked fresh this time.
"You know what's been going on, I know you do. We can't keep it at bay much longer. Hell, we're doing a pretty bad job now."
I looked at my hands, examining them like people used to in the movies, back when theatres were still popular. I could do it. I knew I could. But did I want to?
"Please. Just... please. If what I've said and what you know isn't convincing enough, then there's nothing else I have to offer you."
Air shuttled into my lungs.
"I'll do it. But I can't promise anything. I may even come down with enfluenza myself."
Without words, I could see that he was happy beyond believe. So fulfilled.
He let out a sigh of relief, and collapsed to the ground. | 2016-04-21T10:17:03 | 2016-04-21T09:33:27 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You are a villain famous for “killing” heroes. In reality, heroes come to you to fake their deaths. | A life well lived is an inspiration to others. Death is a part of life. For something to be good, it must be made up of good parts. If we accept these premises, we accept a good death is necessary for a good life.
And for the Super-men and women among us, a death must be perfect, planned, broadcast, heroic- and the first of two.
I am less a supervillain, more an actor- I play my part ‘pon a stage I build, saying lines I wrote, and the world watches.
I have never robbed a bank, nor conquered the world. Yet everyone knows of me as the Nemesis. I’ve killed before, and shall do it again.
Tomorrow. The Script isn’t ready yet, so maybe in a week.
The phone Rings, and i pick up.
“Nemesis, it’s been a month since the second deadline. Trajectory needs to disappear. As her therapist, I’m telling you- get it done. NOW. I know you’ve just got some final touches. Learn to ad lib.”
“Now hold on! You want a good death, don’t you? I can’t guarantee quality without time to produce it.” I scratch out a word. What’s a good joke for trajectory?
‘Aim for heaven, bucko!’ …nah, too western.
“It’s fine. And more to the point, late. Nemesis, I mean it. I can find someone else for this job… and any future ones.”
I frown. The therapist has no appreciation for my art, and I consider detonating the shaped charges I snuck into their house. It’s practically a story already- I go nuts, massacre a small town, rage about a city, and Trajectory stops me. Maybe she dies, maybe she decides she can still be a hero. But the story would be lovely.
I put down the detonator, and pick back up the phone.
“Give me Till Tuesday.”
“That was quite the Pause. You have till Thursday, this week.”
“That’s tomorrow.”
“Oh, so it is. Thursday it is, then.”
“I’ll be sure to give Trajectory a new therapy topic. Bye.”
I slam down the phone. Hmm… that’s a good threat, but not thematic for trajectory.
‘I’m rubber, you’re glue?’ It might work for taunting. I Scribble through another line, and call my agent for a car- mounted glue gun. | [POEM]
Laugh at thee, scum!
From hero to a mere bum.
Your accomplishments, net-zero sum.
Can't even actually run.
It's time to greet the setting sun.
Your life, a cosmic pun.
Heroism when it's shun.
By yourself, hun.
Here drink this bottle of rum.
No more kicking ass or chewing gum.
Your time is over while my fame just begun.
What is murder anyway?
When I always seem to get away.
No crime, no bribe no sway.
Y'all just come this way.
After sunset you may call me Ray.
'cause ain't no other sunshine left today.
Your legacy won't be okay.
My killer joke spells your death and hooray.
You may not may,
Have another day
Crime apparently does pay
However my fee is merely your 'yay'
Just so we can say...
Too late, can't stay.
Death certificate, like it was yesterday.
Funeral, today. | 2022-12-22T21:57:28 | 2022-12-22T19:29:34 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | I had thought Mary was the one. I'd hidden my wealth and lived a modest lifestyle for a few years before she found me. I had thought it was real. It had felt real. She held me when I cried when the dog died. I told her about the wealth a few months before the wedding. She didn't seem to care.
The months turned to years and years to decades. We had our rough patches. It's funny, I've had so many relationships before you would think I'd be good at them. I think I am, now.
The murder attempts didn't start until her mid sixties. They were cute. She tried so hard to make them look like accidents. The brake cables on the car, the electrical fire in my lodge. The SCUBA accident.
I ignored them, until she really hurt me. Stabbed me in the back. Literally. I think it was the betrayal that really got to me. I had thought she'd loved me. I thought about these last few decades and then pushed my way into the room. She sat on the edge of the couch, crocodile tears streaming down her face.
Despite my resolve the sight of her moved me. She had always been pretty, but the years had turned the looks of her youth into the beauty of age. Her makeup was done impeccably where the tears hadn't ruined it. She wore her mother's necklace, a small cross set with diamonds. She'd worn it on our wedding day. I hardened my heart.
"All these years and now you're after the money?" I asked, accusing. "And yet you've tried again and again to kill me. I have news, Mary. I knew about it. I knew about all of them. And they all failed. Do you know why?"
"Yes." She said. I was surprised. "Yes, I know why."
"I'm immortal." I said, off my guard. "You can't kill me. You won't get the money."
She stood up and faced me, the trickle of tears had turned to a flood, and her anger washed over me like a storm. "Don't you get it? I don't want the money! I never wanted the money! Is that what you think of me? After all this time? That I was just some whore you could buy? All this time, listen to me." She sniffed back a wad of snot and laughed. She continued bitterly "Forty three years? Most of my life. A weekend fling for you."
I had no idea what to say, so asked the only question I could think of as she slowly melted back down the the couch. Her fist over her mouth. "Then why? What do you want?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and the tears really flowed. "You're an idiot. Isn't it obvious?" I shook my head but said nothing. She hadn't seen the gesture. The rage had gone when she spoke again, barely soft enough to hear. "I want you. That's all I want."
"So you tried to kill me? I don't understand."
Her anger returned, flashing in her emerald eyes. "I'm going to die. Don't you understand that? I. Am. Going. To. Die. And you won't!" She shouted it like an accusation. She clutched her necklace and a sob wracked her
"When dad died mom said that she would see him again in heaven. She talked about it. She looked forward to it. She died with a smile. And I can't... I can't bear the thought of eternity without you. I had to try. I'm so sorry, but I at least had to try." | You lay under a foot or so of dirt. How long has it been, a day a week? You've lost track as you often do. Days blur together so easily. You can't stop thinking about her face. The glimpse of her you caught in the floor-length bedroom mirror as she attempted to strangle you to death. Your dear sweet wife, such hate in her eyes, such anger. You must have passed out at some point and came to in the trunk of a car you bought her for her 35th birthday just a few months prior. You did your best to lay still, not breathe while she and your personal assistant dragged you from the trunk and into a shallow grave somewhere in the vast forest on your property. You know you would have had to take your own death eventually, so best not to look this gift horse in the mouth. Eventually you claw yourself up from the earth. Your nails broken and bleeding. "Oh, Eleanor, my sweet wife," You think to yourself, "I'll be back for you my love, one day. When your time has come." You grin to yourself and wonder off deeper into the woods.
-60 years later-
You walk up to the house that was once yours. The biometric scanner still recognizes you. Eleanor must have forgotten to remove you from the authorized user list. You walk into your old bedroom and see Eleanor hooked up to a handful of machines gently whirring and beeping. You grab your wife's hand and give it a squeeze. Her eyes flutter open. "So you've finally come for me." She's says with a raspy voice. " I knew you would." she continues. " Why did you do it, what did I do to make you hate me enough to kill me" you ask. " I loved you." You say. Eleanor scoffs " Possession and love are not the same. You didn't love me, I was no better than a doll to you, so something for you to play with when you got bored. I was tired of being treated like a accessory." She finished. "Are you ready to go?" You ask. "Yes, I've made my peace, may God have mercy on me." Eleanor says. You unplug the monitors and listen to her labored breathing then her choking out her last breaths. | 2019-07-31T09:43:04 | 2019-07-31T08:21:24 | 75 | 16 |
[WP] Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower. When together, both their powers increase in strength exponentially. You have the most useless power ever, when one day......
Edit: Wow! This has blown up.. Massive thanks for the gold, it's great to see my prompt inspiring so many great stories.
'Til next time peeps... | "Hey Nate, what time is it?"
I hated this game. It didn't help that Rick was floating in the air when he asked. Everyone had some strange ability. Rick can fly. My sister has super speed. I can tell you exactly what time it is.
"Two thirty-seven, and sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and so on seconds."
"Good to know buddy. Means I gotta head out. These afternoon games are a pain. You sure you don't want to come? There's definitely tickets available."
"No, you go. I still have a couple more errands I need to run."
"Suit yourself. See you later."
"See ya."
Rick started walking in the general direction of his car while I continued to walk through downtown. Truth be told, I didn't have any errands, or much of anything to do really. I just wanted some time alone.
It's funny to think that. No one wants to be alone. Especially when they figured out your perfect match, your soul mate, if you believe in that stuff, not only is compatable with you powerwise, but both powersets are given a crazy boost. My dad was another flyer, and my mom could control the wind. When they met, it apparently caused a few twisters in the area. Together the two of them could fly and always have a tailwind to make them go faster. They flew further and faster than anyone. They raced a flight from San Jose to L.A. just to see if they could beat it. They did.
I tried the dating sites, hoping beyond hope that someone could compliment by ability to tell time. Everyone has cell phones and watches these days so I wasn't really in high demand. There was one girl who could teleport and she thought together we could travel through time, but it didn't pan out. Shame too. She was nice.
Even out on the street, you could see all the happy couples, young and old, walking together and just being happy. Plus they got sweet powers out of the deal. I just get asked what time it is because the person was too lazy to pull out their phone.
*It's time to cross the street.*
What the fuck was that? It's not like I was shopping or really doing anything productive here, but for some reason I knew that it was time to cross the street. Fuck it, there aren't any cars coming anyway.
Maybe I was just stressing myself out. No one wants to be with someone who they know for sure isn't their soul mate, and with my crap power, I wasn't likely to ever find someone. And knowing when to cross the street wasn't much better than telling time. Most people can look both ways.
I made it on to the opposite sidewalk when someone walked right into me. I noticed their phone was in their hand and worried if we had finally reached the point in society when we are going to start crashing into things while walking due to our phones. Then I noticed her. Dirty blonde. A little shorter than me. Cute nose that ends in a slightly upward point. She was gorgeous.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I was reading something and got distracted. This never happens to me." She looked into my eyes and something happened. It could have only been five seconds at most but something happened. I don't know how long it was before she said "With my dumb powers I always know where I'm going."
"No worries," I said. I don't know why, but for some reason I knew it was time to tell her about me. "I always know what time it is."
So much information came flooding into my brain. By the looks of it, she too was having a bit of a head rush.
"We should go for coffee some time," she said. "There's this place on Pressfield Avenue that I know I should go to. We I mean. If you want. Sorry, I must sound like a total creeper. But do you want to swap numbers. We can plan a meet up. I'm sorry, it's weird, but I think..."
"Wait, before you say anything, I just have to say something. Yes, I'd like to get coffee with you. I don't know where this place is, but maybe you should show me. Except I don't want to wait. No. We should go right now. I'm 100% sure now is the time to go get coffee."
"Yeah, now sounds good. It's like a ten minute walk from here. Shall we go?"
"Lead the way. And now is as good of a time as ever, but hi, I'm Nate."
"Liz."
Together we walked. We were always sure when and where to go. The coffee shop gave us our drinks free and a one hundred dollar gift card for being their one hundred thousandth customer. Later on I knew it was time to leave the shop, but she insisted that before we parted ways I should follow her to a grassy plaza in the middle of downtown. We went and as we arrived Music in the Park had started. A local band was playing, one of my favorites. As it turned out, she was a big fan of theirs too.
A year later she told me to pack a weekend bag because the Aurora Borealis was going to be as far south as it could be, which was a six hour drive from us. As we drove, I thought to myself *it's a good thing I went out and bought that rock*. This would be a great time to propose. | Meta: Getting to this prompt 7 hours late makes me sad.
I stared out of the window. That's all I did most of the time. I'm old. Older than most people ever thought you could get. I heal, not spectacularly not even well but constantly through my young life it meant I could take a few more risks not like fight crime. It's kept me in pretty good health for the last 60 years, very good health for that previous 100. It's not stopping the cancer inside of me now though. I've had a good run, way better than most people get. I stared. Thought about death. Prayed for it.
My grandchildren never visit anymore. Not since my Jax died. They hadn't visited much after Shawn and Jen died too. I curse this power, it's taken so much from me.
Jax and I had met, we weren't soulmates we knew it. She could read lies. She was one of the best non-psychics the department ever had. She didn't find a soulmate but she found an honest man. I miss her. I hate this power.
Shawn our son, our light. The World's Light actually. When he paired with Jen. It was beautiful. They were the most powerful Heroes the world has ever seen. The best 30 years of my life, most people's lives, I guess. Christ I miss them. They captured me and Jax. I'm still alive though. She died of grief. Christ I couldn't even lie to her.
"Mr. Jackson!" Bubbly bitch, I thought. I hate nurses. "Let me help you to come take your medicine."
"I can still walk, this damned power wont even take that from me." I grab my cane and walk with her to the nurses' station. I hate this place. They all love me. The geyser that never dies, doesn't need help. The man who saw the rise of The Light, who raised him. I fucking hate it.
I walk with Bubbly the bitch Nurse. She's been here a while but I always forget her name. She loves me, confides in me the latest gossip around the home. We walk down the hall and I see the "common room" a bunch of young people sitting around thinking about the powers that they mostly can't use anymore. Someone new sits among them.
An old man, obviously. But not that old. Most people used healers now these days to maintain a high quality of life until late into their lives. He looked good, maybe 85. Half my age, I thought mood lightening. He looked good. Damned good, I thought.
Bubbly sees me staring at the new guy, I'd stopped moving. Something had snapped. My vision went blurry behind my glasses. "Oh Mr. Jackson, that's Frank, he's only going to be around for a month or so more. He Needs more specialized care." She said it conspiratorially.
My head whipped around, swiftly, "What do you mean?" My voice was less ragged than a minute ago, sounding strong, young.
"His mind is basically gone. Extremely severe dementia. Doesn't remember his children's name." As she said this I took a step towards Frank. I tore my glasses off and the blur in my vision went away.
Another step. My hands flexed against my cane until the wood snapped beneath it. The rest of the cane fell away. Splinters in my hand were pushed out immediately by rejuvenating skin. I took another step on steady legs. I strode to Frank. 1 step away. I knelt down.
"Frank, I said with a smile." He's the one. Didn't surprise me, I'm just glad I found him.
He looked at me, his eyes vacant. My world shattered. "Brittany." he whispered, his mouth parted in a smile. I held his head with my hands. Eyes locked on his, I saw nothing, no recognition. I was still alone.
I stood up. My legs feeling stronger and stronger every second. I knew I was the strongest now. Frank was my soulmate, and I would never know him. I cried, and the windows shattered. | 2015-10-10T13:17:03 | 2015-10-10T12:46:54 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] Everyone loves the new CEO of the Make-A-Wish foundation. Is it because of his strange blue skin? His propensity for bursting into song? His incredible Robin Williams impression? Either way, Gene E. Adalamp has truly changed the world. | As soon as Gene finished his spontaneous song-and-dance routine, everybody clapped. The boss was always so charming and chipper. It was infectious. He stepped up to the young girl and beamed. "So what would you like, little miss? Your wish is my command."
The girl looked up at him with broken eyes. "I can wish for anything?"
The blue man nodded. "Just about."
The girl's face hardened. "I want you to bring my mummy back."
The crowd gasped. So did Gene. Then he snapped his fingers. Time stopped. All sounds ceased. People stood frozen, faces stuck in grins or cries.
Gene sat down heavily on the ground. "Listen, kid. I can't do it."
The girl stared back at him angrily. "You said I could wish for anything."
"Yeah, I know. But there are a couple quid pro quos, and-" He shook his head. "I was wrong. There are exceptions."
The girl looked like she was going to shout at him. Then she just started crying. "B-but that's all I-I want! I just wanna be happy again!"
The usually jolly blue man looked at her sadly. "It's all I want, too. Look, kid, I'm like you. My whole family is gone. Everyone I loved is dead. I can't bring them back. I couldn't even do that at the height of my powers."
He stared up at the ceiling of the hospital, remembering street-rats gone by. "I wandered aimlessly for a while after that. I explored the world. But I was haunted by a sadness I couldn't identify. I just couldn't remember how to be happy."
Gene turned back to him, and that infectious smile was suddenly back on his face. "And then I realized what makes me happy. Making *other* people happy! Like I did back in the day! So I made that my new job. Now I have thousands of friends! My family stretches around the globe! And all I have to do is make people happy! What more could a guy ask for?"
Despite herself, the girl found herself beginning to grin at Gene's cheer. And she blurted, "That! That's my wish. I wanna make people happy too."
Gene had been about to start another song, but the girl's wish froze him in his tracks. Then he smiled again. He winked.
"I think that can be arranged! Believe me, you'll be the greatest friend anyone could ever have."
Smiling again, he snapped. The girl would get better. She would eventually become a famous comedienne. She would always have kind words for Mr. Adalamp. He never asked for payment, after all.
Making people happy was all the payment he needed. | A lot of people like to think there's a reason why we fall in love. Of course that phrase is generally reserved for relationships in which the two are bound together. What Gene helps show the world is that anyone could use their spark for the sake of contributing to the whole. While some accuse Mr. Adalamp, of actually contributing nothing to his beloved foundation, he knows the truth; the whole truth; and nothing but the truth.
He kept pushing. He kept talking. He kept walking. He didn't just push up off the ground with the intention of pushing the entire world below him. He didn't just keep saying what he believed to be the right things to whom he believed to be the right people. He didn't even just pick a direction and decide to walk until his legs could no longer support him.
Gene "Everyone" Adalamp took initiative. He knew that reaching the top wasn't about the company itself. It was about the individual parts that created the music he so often embodied, (often goofily) for the sake of said music. It was that inner frequency that stuck so strongly to it's own devices, of which it rarely recognized to be anything at all, because self-preservation is the rule of the jungle that has always dominated the subconscious landscape since consciousness arose in the first place. | 2019-11-06T15:24:47 | 2019-11-06T14:53:32 | 315 | 91 |
[WP] Superman announces on the news that he is going to kill each person on earth, one by one, until humanity is wiped out, in alphabetical order.
What would happen? What would happen from a local to a worldwide level? | The Kryptonian had just concluded his announcement to the General Assembly of the United Nations, and the hall was deathly silent.
Silent, that is, apart from a low hum.
As Kal-El watched, a large spacecraft materialised in the middle of the hall.
Long legs extended to the ground.
A walkway opened up, and a tall, alien creature appeared in the mist that often accompanied such entrances, cloaked in extravagantly draped golden robes with a peculiarly alien collar design.
The alien's gray-green skin shone in a particularly lustrous way.
Its flattened head moved from left to right, and settled upon the Kryptonian, whereupon its slitty eyes may have opened a bit wider, though it was difficult to tell.
It held some kind of exclusively alien device in its alien hands.
The creature approached the Man Of Steel.
The assorted heads of state in attendance were rapt in attention. Who was this being? Perhaps it was an instrument of destruction for the human race, summoned by Superman? Perhaps it was a new protector, here to save humanity?
The visitor took one look at Superman, looked down at its device, muttered "Oh, that's right" to itself, looked back up, and uttered in a derisive tone: "Pompous git."
The crowd waited.
The creature sniffed. "Right, that's you told." It tapped at the device, as if to cross something off a list, and appeared satisfied. It turned back towards the ship.
The crowd were unsure what was happening, and murmurs began to break out.
Suddenly, the alien stopped, turned its head back round to humanity's former protector (and current avowed destroyer) and commented:
"I heard what you said, by the way. Seems a bit extreme to me, but whatever works for you, I suppose. However, I must say - only one planet? In linear order, in normal spacetime? Bloody amateur."
Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged (for it was he) hopped into his ship and buggered off to wherever and whenever the computer told him that the next irritating lifeform due a verbal barb was to be found. Did that count as two insults? Probably, but he'd done it before to that naive twerp Arthur Dent, and the Kryptonian probably deserved it and more.
He didn't stick around to hear the screams. They didn't really concern him. When he was ready to insult those examples of humanity that he hadn't yet got around to, they would all be healthy enough to realise they were being served. | "I'm sorry, but Mr. Mxyzptlk wants to be the first in line at the DMV. If I don't do this, the entire planet is at risk" The Man of Steel shrugs apologetically to Aaron Abner, the first on his kill list.
"Wuh-What about Aaron Aardvark?" Aaron pleaded "Or, or, I bet there's some Swedish guy out there with three A's, those Swedes got some crazy names"
"It'll only delay the inevitable" Superman said solemnly as his eyes burned with red heat "This won't hurt"
"WAIT!!!!" from down the street came running a short stocky woman with orthopedic shoes and glasses on a chain. Superman turned his attention to her as she approached, gasping for air
"Superman...huff, huff...I work for the DMV and...huffff...we can just change the alphabet to start M X Y Z and so on...OOOHHFFFF"
Superman's eyes turned down and his face softened "Oh" the red left his eyes and went to his cheeks "I hadn't even considered that" | 2015-07-12T22:00:28 | 2015-07-12T21:12:47 | 120 | 80 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP... | The rain outside is tapping on the window. You're sitting on the couch watching a movie on the TV. It's an action movie about an arms dealer in the Middle East. Its depiction of the war was fairly accurate but the main characters are unconvincing.
The movie reminds you of the war you've fought five years ago--has it really been that long? You remember your combat buddies. The faces of the ones that fell are coming back quite vividly. Many bad memories, but it did good things for your EXP rank. Life is comfortable because of your sacrifices.
The army has been good for you. Taught you some discipline. You weren't always such a stand up citizen. As a matter of fact.. You were a pretty bad bully when you were younger. There was this one kid. He was so helpless and every time he felt bad he just kept munching away at his candy bars. Thinking back at that time makes you angry. That kid was so annoying but the things you did to him were inexcusable. The army managed to set you straight, and war was a good way to get EXP.
You try to shake the images of war out of your mind by focusing on the film as you feel a hot tingling in the back of your head. It's been five years since you've felt this synthetic endorphin rush. The army implant has been dormant for so long. The unforgettable feeling takes hold of your body. You're strong, competent. You've done something great and remarkable and your peers are celebrating your existence. You chug your beer and let out a euphoric roar.
It's only when the rush subsided that you wonder what just happened. That was the rush of a kill. The combat terminal! You need to know who died and how. You throw the junk that has gathered on your army trunk on the floor. The tablet starts up with a ~plink~.. Thank God there's still some power in it. You navigate to your kill feed as you see a name you haven't seen in 20 years.
+1.500 Jeffrey Nickelson, suicide
It's that loser from high school: Fat Jeff. Shit.. | NOTE: Sorry about any mistakes. I am working on being a better writer. But I have never been good at punctuation
Any advice welcome.
PART 1
As I lay reading the newest issue of my favorite comic, I began to feel that familiar warmth. The retinal display showed +1,500 EXP. Odd I hadn't killed anything today.
As I pondered what this could possibly mean my phone began to buzz. I had a new message. Hoping for answers I opened the message.
-
From:BLOCKED
We need to talk. Park at midnight.
Who is this?
All will be explained.
-
I don't know what is going on but I don't like it. | 2017-05-15T09:06:47 | 2017-05-15T04:49:15 | 143 | 12 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "-so in the end, all life is really just the inevitable manifestation of the universe's irrepressible desire to kill itself" the immortal explained, still fiddling under their desk. "Life is not rare, not a miracle; We are entropy, we exist to consume more energy than we give back, and then we die. It's actually very simple"
"We're like little fires, lit by a suicidal God in their own house. All that's left for them is to watch us dance, and wait to die" For a human, the immortal sometimes said some wonderful things. Death had come to like that about these visits, as the immortal liked to talk.
*"So, once again, do you choose to continue here?"* Death rasped, his mind and body simultaneously in a trillion locations, claiming a trillion souls, yet each of those countless fragments with an eye on the immortal in this room. To their credit, the immortal held up very well under the scrutiny of the infinite slivers of Death.
"You know the answer to that, Mr Bones" The immortal grinned, finally emerging from behind the desk. The nicknames Death could do without, but that had become a lost cause long ago. "Then I go" Death nodded, fading into Nothing. "Hold on!" The immortal interrupted, reaching into Nothing and pulling Death back out. When had they learned to do that?
"This time, I have a present for you" the immortal dangled a finger over a switch on the desk, waggling their eyebrows excitedly. Death waited, as always.
"The last few years have confirmed it" the immortal finally said, suddenly pensive. "I was cut from a different cloth. Not quite Entropy, but..." Death waited for more, but the silence stretched on, punctuated by the uncomfortably loud ticking of a grandfather clock. Both figures staring silently, unmoving, waiting.
"I have no desire to kill my god and watch my universe burn out" the immortal said, breaking the silence at last. The immortal rested a finger on the switch, regarding Death with an unreadable look. "I can't stop entropy, but I can slow it, for a time. So today, I offer you what you offered me. Do *you* choose to continue, old friend?"
Death said nothing, so the immortal pressed the switch. | A shadow looms over me, its anger palpable in the morning mist. I don’t need to turn to know who it is. “Death.”
The figure inclines slightly, a bare ghost of a bow. I smile, and say, “Our deal holds, my friend. How many times is it, now?” A piercing screech echoes from behind a locked door, ringing against the cold metal walls. I can’t help but smile - after all, if I haven’t checked the tally today, I never will. “Thank you, my good man. I’ll see you soon.”
I turn back around and blink. What was I doing? What are all these papers, and why are they in a hole? What could even dig through that much steel? I reach down and start to sift through the pages, and as I realize what they mean, my smile grows. “I’m going to live forever!” | 2017-11-30T10:48:02 | 2017-11-28T13:19:24 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] You are the first person to be successfully revived after being cryogenically frozen for 1000’s of years. They said it would be like an instant to you, but they were wrong. | For the first few weeks, I tried to move. I knew I was stuck; that I'd been put into a temperature well below freezing, somehow frozen so quickly ice crystals weren't allowed to form, and then carefully maintained that way. My muscles couldn't possibly respond. The chemicals in my brain couldn't even change state; all that was left were electrical impulses.
&#x200B;
I gave up, eventually. I should have gone into a panic. Gone completely insane. Most likely, the chemicals involved in a panic response simply couldn't activate. I wasn't even allowed to go mad to escape the void.
&#x200B;
For the first thirty years, the same technician worked in the facility. Jenkins. Never knew what he looked like, but I knew his voice; and honestly, if I'd still believed in god I'd have thanked him for providing Jenkins with audio-books to listen to as he carefully checked all of the tubes in the facility. After the third year, I could hear the words from the other side of the facility, and never missed a phrase. I felt myself blessed. It almost felt bearable.
&#x200B;
When he was about to die, they put him in one of the tubes. His replacement didn't listen to audio-books, or read at all; he also didn't do the maintenance he was supposed to. One of the tubes broke down in year thirty-five while the tech was watching reality tv. On the one hand, I hated the stuff. On the other, he usually forgot to turn it off when he left, and I could listen to the catchphrases and absurdities all night long.
&#x200B;
In year thirty-six, someone caught the mistake, they cleaned out the corpse, and mister reality tv was fired. Finally heard his name there at the end; he was another Jenkins. Son of the first guy. Frankly, I was disappointed.
&#x200B;
Years thirty seven through ninety-five were some of the better ones. Not much entertainment, but the number of tubes had grown so large by year thirty-eight there were always technicians moving around, talking. The place felt alive. Somedays I would imagine I was there, walking and talking among them.
&#x200B;
Year ninety-five began the worst of it. They had perfected AIs, I assume, well enough they trusted them to do the maintenance. I no longer heard voices and movements except once every several years; without the daily rhythm of people moving in and out of the facility, I lost track of time; there was nothing to measure the days by.
&#x200B;
In year three hundred and seven, they had cured all forms of cancer, and had nano-therapies to fix most other problems, and were making a big show of reviving most of the people in the tubes; from the sub-text these problems had been solved a long time ago, but population pressure had meant there was no motivation to bring more hungry mouths back. Something had changed, but they acted as if the medical breakthroughs were the key. I had hope there, for about ten hours, as one of the nearby tubes was finally thawed. I was also enthusiastic about the fact that, once again, I knew how much time had passed.
&#x200B;
The man in the tube had been driven insane by the wait. They probably didn't know what had caused it for sure; he just started screaming, he didn't even know any words at this point. There was some violence. Banging of metal. Someone may have died; the man from the tube definitely did. The scientists were at a loss, constantly wondering whether the man might have thawed out partially, ice crystals damaging his brain; they would need to carefully research this, and figure out what had caused it, before risking the death of the other sleepers.
&#x200B;
I wanted to beg them to open my tube. To free me. I wanted to tell them I hadn't gone mad, I could still think, just let me show them. It simply wasn't to be. The facility was re-sealed. They changed what sort of robot was maintaining things; put me through, I expect, a more advanced version of an MRI. Somehow they still didn't register that I was conscious, at least partially. Some abstract parts of my brain still active.
&#x200B;
Sometime after this, they moved the tubes. It had been hundreds of years, I'd have guessed; but with the lack of change in routine, it might have just been two or three. The times when human technicians came to visit had become vanishingly rare; I wouldn't be surprised if it were decades between times I overheard a conversation. I wasn't certain where, but from the sound of things, I'd been lifted into orbit. I didn't know what was going on; and I couldn't ask. From what few words I heard; a conversation between two mechanics; we were going to a colony. Perhaps mars? Or some other system altogether?
&#x200B;
And then came today. Quite frankly, the greatest day of my life. Scientists were getting ready to open the tubes, and were explaining things to some security guards, by the sound of it. Apparently there had been a few plagues; humanity had used advanced genetic editing to 'perfect' people, making them all longer-lived, healthier, giving them all sorts of advantages, immunity to all disease; and in the end, they had made a perfectly harmonious humanity; one which all had exactly the same response to a disease, resulting in every single human on earth dying off.
&#x200B;
For the future of humanity, these sleepers would be awoken; and though they fully expected to have to kill or sedate most or all of them, their genetics would be harvested to allow for a better blend of humanity on this new colony world. The first seventeen tubes they thawed had identical responses. Stark raving madness; thrashing. Easily subdued, but violent.
&#x200B;
When they came to thaw me, I was worried. Frightened that, perhaps, I would find myself driven to some depths of madness from pain or horror in the thawing process that I might join those who went before. Why would I be special? When I saw the light; my eyes working again for the first time in an unknown number of years; I wasn't blinded. My eyes were just as adapted as they'd been when I was [frozen.](https://frozen.My) My lungs; not having inhaled for a thousand years; took over instinctively, drawing breath, as the vacuum of the tube was replaced with fresh, clean air.
&#x200B;
I stepped out of the tube; I had forgotten how to walk, and almost flopped forward onto the people standing there, before catching myself on the edge of my pod; only now noticing it, and the other surrounding pods, the differences between them. The figures looked... strange. Perhaps four and a half feet tall, with pale, hairless skin. Some clearly male and female, but all identical in height, identical in skin tone. Thin. All of them seemed surprised when I didn't scream, or yell. The two security guards; I assumed whatever they held were weapons, small silver cylinders; had them leveled at me, but hadn't fired.
&#x200B;
I coughed a few times, struggling to speak. One of the tiny pale people held up his wrist, and a digitized voice emerged. "Do you understand us? Was your freezing and thawing successful?" I blinked. After a few seconds, the man held his wrist a different way, and what I can only assume were different languages started to play out.
&#x200B;
Language had changed quite a bit over the centuries. But I could hear it. Sometimes widely spaced apart. New slang slowly becoming proper words. These words sounded so odd because I didn't need a translator. They'd exposed me to the changes in language often enough that I could adapt.
&#x200B;
"I understand you perfectly. We need to have a serious conversation, and then we need to wake everyone else up. I don't suppose you have the ability to selectively erase memories? That might allow you to recover the rest of them."
&#x200B;
The shock over those tiny, perfect faces was obvious. I hadn't spoken using some thousand-year-old language; as one of these people brought me something to wear; a simple, silver robe that looked far too small for me, but would have to make do; the one who tried the translation stepped closer.
&#x200B;
"We do, in fact, have such technology. We have for quite some time. What purpose would it serve, in individuals whose brains have been damaged by improper freezing?" I gave him a grin; all of them took a step back. Perhaps grinning didn't mean the same thing now as it used to.
&#x200B;
"I doubt many of them have been damaged by freezing. Most likely, they've just been driven mad by a thousand years of sensory deprivation. It looks like most of the newer pods have better insulation than mine did. I might only be sane because I could hear you. Might be best to open the other pods, about as old as mine, first, to see." | FADE IN:
INT. A STERILE FACILITY
*A harsh hissing of gas becomes audible as a room with bright walls resolves into view. Thin, blue conduits stretch across the ceiling, then trail down to a number of body-length metal pods on the floor. From within one of these rises a tall, attractive woman. This is FREYA. She looks around, seemingly confused.*
**SCHMIDT:** (*O.S.*) Well, welcome back, sleepyhead!
*Freya turns to see a balding man in a laboratory coat approaching her. Her reflection is visible in the thick lenses of his glasses.*
**SCHMIDT:** (*CONT'D*) Now, I'm sure you're wondering who I am... and more importantly, where you are.
**FREYA:** Where I am?
**SCHMIDT:** Yes! Yes, I'm sure this room looked very different back in your day!
**FREYA:** Back in my day?
*Schmidt steps closer to Freya, his eyebrows furrowing.*
**SCHMIDT:** Hmm. Are you feeling... well, whole? You keep repeating what I'm saying.
*Freya pauses for a moment.*
**FREYA:** What you're saying?
**SCHMIDT:** ... That isn't funny.
**FREYA:** It's a little bit funny.
**SCHMIDT:** No, no, humor has evolved quite a bit since you were frozen, and that is *not* funny now.
**FREYA:** I sincerely doubt that humor has evolved at all.
**SCHMIDT:** Lots of things have changed! Once you've been rehabilitated, you'll see that.
*Freya makes a show of stretching her arms.*
**FREYA:** I suppose humans have stopped defining themselves based on insignificant differences?
**SCHMIDT:** Ah... no, no, we still do that.
**FREYA:** Then surely we've cured all disease and eliminated poverty?
**SCHMIDT:** You've made your point.
**FREYA:** Oh, maybe written English has changed so that apostrophes pluralize things now?
*Schmidt scoffs.*
**SCHMIDT:** Are you insane? Nobody would ever even *think* of doing that!
**FREYA:** They wouldn't write, say, "one-zero-zero-zero-apostrophe-S?"
*Schmidt stares upward for a moment. Freya looks upward, too, then makes eye contact with the camera.*
**SCHMIDT:** Look, clearly you're cranky. I know it seems like only a blink of an eye has passed, but...
**FREYA:** (*Interrupting*) No, it doesn't.
**SCHMIDT:** What do you mean?
**FREYA:** That was what I was told I'd experience, sure, but that isn't how it felt.
**SCHMIDT:** What do you mean?
**FREYA:** Oh, look, now *you're* repeating what you're saying.
**SCHMIDT:** Because what *you're* saying doesn't make sense! You were unconscious!
*Freya tilts her head, narrowing her eyes.*
**FREYA:** What do you think that actually means.... sorry, what was your name?
**SCHMIDT:** I am Doctor JJJ Schmidt.
**FREYA:** Huh, I used to shout at a guy with the same name...
**SCHMIDT:** Yes, well, I'm sure he appreciated that. Anyway, what do you mean about what I think it means?
**FREYA:** What?
**SCHMIDT:** About being unconscious! There's only one definition!
*Freya shakes her head.*
**FREYA:** No, Doctor. Even when you're unconscious, there's a tiny sense of awareness. You don't actually perceive anything – not even blackness, really – but somehow, some infinitesimally small flicker remains. It's almost as if there's this quiet, drawn-out whisper you're saying to yourself, too simple to be even "I am."
**SCHMIDT:** What's simpler than "I am?"
*Freya locks eyes with Schmidt.*
**FREYA:** "Am."
*Schmidt visibly shivers.*
**SCHMIDT:** Right, well, uh, yes, that... look, you, uh... that feeling probably arose as you were waking up.
**FREYA:** No, Doctor. It was there from the moment the lid closed over me. It was there throughout the ages, keeping me here. After all, I wasn't completely frozen; I was just kept in a state of near-stasis which slowed all of my body's processes to a virtual standstill, but never *quite* stopped them. If those same processes *had* stopped, then I'd be dead, and you'd be talking to a perfect copy that you had resurrected. Oh, sure, she'd think that she was me, but it would be a different – albeit identical – entity.
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**SCHMIDT:** ... Are you being intentionally creepy?
**FREYA:** Maybe a little.
**SCHMIDT:** Well, stop it. How do you even know all of this?
**FREYA:** I eventually learned how to eavesdrop.
**SCHMIDT:** I thought I told you to stop being creepy.
**FREYA:** That time, I was just being honest.
**SCHMIDT:** Do you mean to tell me that you've heard *everything* that happened in this room since you went under?!
**FREYA:** No, no, not everything, Doctor.
**SCHMIDT:** Just as well, because...
**FREYA:** (*Interrupting*) The last two hundred years or so have been *remarkably* clear, though.
*Another several seconds pass.*
**SCHMIDT:** And... and what have you heard?
**FREYA:** Practically nothing, actually.
**SCHMIDT:** What?
**FREYA:** Yeah, if you were expecting some big "Gotcha!" moment, you're out of luck.
**SCHMIDT:** That *still* isn't funny.
**FREYA:** It's funny that someone would write an entire screenplay just to point out that *apostrophes don't pluralize!*
*Freya slaps Schmidt across the face.*
**SCHMIDT:** Ow! What was that for?!
**FREYA:** You were a stand-in. It couldn't be helped.
**SCHMIDT:** ... I'm going to leave you to wake up the rest of the way. I'll go out for a bit.
*Schmidt quickly leaves.*
**FREYA:** (*Shouting*) DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!
**SCHMIDT:** (*O.S.*) Shut up!
**FREYA:** Good to see that *some* things never change.
*A moment goes by with nothing happening.*
**FREYA:** (*CONT'D*) (*To the camera*) What are you still doing here? This was literally just a writing correction. Well, and it was also a reference to that song we all sung in kindergarten. Why am I even talking to you? Oh, wait, I get it: That prolonged isolation has driven me insane, and now I think that there's an audience reading about everything that I do. Well, here, I'll let you go... for now, anyway.
*Freya punches the camera.*
CUT TO BLACK. | 2020-08-06T03:17:53 | 2020-08-05T21:42:30 | 59 | 41 |
[WP] There is nothing unusual about a man in a business suit carrying a briefcase, rushing off to work. But since he just quickly passed you as you are climbing up Mount Everest in full winter gear, you have questions. | A gust of wind steals yet another breath from my lungs. I fight my every instinct, pushing forward. My body begs me to turn back. To turn back. Accept defeat.
But I will not.
For years I have prepared for this. Conditioned my body. I’ve climbed nameless mountains, trekked frozen wastelands. And yet, as I climb the final mile, I find myself wondering: will I truly make it?
I shake the thought from my mind. *I can do this.* Many a climber has made a name for themselves on this mountain. But none have done it as I am now. Alone. Without a Sherpa. I will conquer this beast, if it is the last thing I do.
I try to blink, but my eyelids refuse to move. Not long ago, I could feel the ice crystals on my brow. Rising on my cheeks. But now, I feel nothing. Not the wind at my back, nor the flakes of snow kissing my forehead. I sense only the determination in my soul.
This beast will be conquered.
As my steps disappear into the waist-deep snow, something catches my eye. A flicker of movement. At first, I assume it to be nothing more than a hallucination; it would not be my first on the mountain. But something about this feels... different.
I ignore it, powering through the pain. The words of the fallen fuel me; those poor men lost a day before. They were not ready. Supplies, they had aplenty—but they lacked the most vital: determination. They doubted themselves.
I do not.
Another moment passes—maybe several. Time is no longer known to me. Only the cold. The numbness. The impending victory of my challenge. Even if it kills me, my name will be known to all those who follow.
I will be the man that conquered the unimaginable.
Snow begins to fall, thick white flakes obscuring my vision. And yet, from the corner, I see that thing. That strange, unmistakable presence. I know now that I’m not imagining it. Not hallucinating. But I cannot yet bring myself to trust my very sight.
The thing is a man. Or, at least, it seems to be. I thought it an animal, at first—a stray deer, or moose, or whatever else claims home to this desolate peak. But deep down, I know such a creature would not venture this far into the clouds.
No. This thing is a man.
I find myself watching it—watching *him*. The longer I stare, my feet pushing ever forward, the more I come to doubt myself. He carries no gear. No hiker’s pike nor oxygen tank.
Only a briefcase.
There’s no sense to be made of the man. His fitted suit clings tight to his body, seemingly unmarked by the falling snow. Such a thing should not be possible. I know this. And yet, I see him. Rushing through the snow, his lone possession clutched tightly in his hands.
It isn’t long before he overtakes me. My stomach twists at the sight—how can one man accomplish so much? He is tall, thin, not physically conditioned to the weather we find ourselves in. He should have died miles ago, if there were any sense to him.
A thought occurs to me, one born from the bitter cold. This man carries a secret in his case—something that allows him to pass me by. But I cannot let him defeat me. I’ve worked too hard.
And so a decision is made.
“You! You, there!” I call out. For a moment, I wonder if the words are frozen in my throat. I cannot feel them escape, locked behind an icy tongue.
But the man reacts.
He turns his gaze to me, stopping nearly fifty feet from where I stand. I smile, but quickly hide my joy. This man must not suspect my plan.
“Ahoy, traveler!” he calls out, waving an uncovered hand in the air. It should be black from the frost, but I see only pale flesh.
I step closer, my knees pushing against the hardened snow. “What are you doing up here?” I ask, seeking only to hold his attention.
He lifts his case in the air. Snow clings to its smooth surface like metal fibers to a magnet—a strange symbol forms on its face, but it is not one that I recognize.
“Just off to work,” he says, his tone far too casual.
My brow furrows, tiny crystals shattering at the effort. Either this man is insane, or he hides something that can see my task to completion.
“What work would bring you up here?” I say. “Are you a Sherpa?”
The man’s expression is partially hidden by the falling snow, but I can yet see a smile form on his face. It sends a chill down my spine—the first I’ve felt in half a day.
“Heavens, no,” he says. “But I do have business on the mountain. I’d be happy to speak with you—once we reach the top, of course.”
I step closer, the man nearly within my grasp. My eyes remain fixed on his case, its secrets flowing in my mind. I will not let him beat me.
“I’d love to talk now,” I say, fighting the wind for my words, “if you don’t mind.”
His smile widens. I can see the gaps in his teeth, the whites of his eyes. And as I finally step before him, something inside my sinks.
“Oh, I bet you would,” he says, extending a hand.
I feel his touch on my chest as his fingers graze my jacket. Such a thing should not be possible—the mountain has frozen my nerves, stolen my feeling. And yet, through layers of cotton and wool, I feel each individual finger.
“You seek my gift,” he says, raising his case in the air.
My resolve strengthens. I eye the case, and the unfamiliar sigil on its face, and smile.
“Yes,” I say, the peak of the mountain in the corner of my eye. “I do.”
His smile widens, his long, sharp teeth exposed to the elements. He extends his arm, offering the case, and I eagerly accept.
But as I take it in my hand, the world begins to spin. Snow envelopes me, stealing every sense I yet held. The man breaks apart and disappears with the breeze, leaving only his case behind.
And there I stand, his case in hand, staring down at a lump beneath the snow. I feel nothing—not the cold on my face, nor the soreness in my legs.
I kneel, brushing aside the freshly fallen snow. A frozen bit of flesh becomes clear, and I dig faster. The frozen man begins to come into focus, though it is not the one I expect.
I stand on the side of the mountain, far beneath its peak, staring at my own frozen corpse.
And then my eyes catch something moving in the distance. A single man, wrapped in gear, pushing his way through the snow. My fingers curl around the case.
I know what I must do.
>r/Ford9863 for more nonsense. | “Good day to you, old sport, mind pointing me in the peak's direction?” The smartly dressed man gave Joe a tip of his top-hat, the hat somehow staying on his head despite the harsh gusts of wind hitting them both. In fact, the man’s clothing showed no signs of the elements, not even containing a spot of dirt or snow. The man stared at Joe, awaiting an answer, causing the mountain climber to point his gloved hand towards the peak.
“The peak? Um, yeah, it’s that way. If you follow the markers you should get there, it’s not too far.” Joe far too shocked to question the man, only able to point him in the direction he requested, wondering if this was all just some bizarre hallucination.
“Awfully sporting of you lad, thank you. I wish you well on your voyage.” He gave a quick bow before he began hopping up the mountain, his knees bending before springing up, throwing him eight feet in the air with each bounce. The sight like something out of a cartoon, the way he bounced with weightless ease, clearing the rest of the way with ease.
“I must be low on oxygen.” Joe held his hand against his mask, sucking in a few more huffs of oxygen, hoping that might clear his head. Not wanting to spend the rest of his climb in an exhausted state of disillusion.
As he recovered from his temporary break, he continued the upward path, only to pause, noticing the footprints of the man. Joe crouched down, dragging his finger through the marking, shaking his head. “Unbelievable, there’s no way this is possible. I should head back down.”
Joe turned, considering making the journey back, only to look at how little he had left to climb. It would be such a waste to stop now, something he would regret forever. It didn’t help that he had questions as well, eager to find out just who this mysterious entity was. He steeled himself for the last part of his journey, his movements slow and precise as he worked his way higher up the mountain, carefully maneuvering his body until he had made it, tossing himself onto the ground as he reached the peak. Taking long drawn out breathes, feeling a sense of adrenaline and accomplishment that no drug could provide.
“I did it.” Joe muttered, raising his hands to the air.
“Certainly did old sport, now mind being quiet, we are discussing business.” The familiar voice said, causing Joe to sit up quickly.
Sitting by a small wooden desk were two figures, one being the businessman from earlier and the second being someone he could only describe as Santa Claus? The two looking at a briefcase, a shining golden light spilling out of its edges.
“How much do you want for the part?” Mr Claus asked, his hand dragging along his bearded chin.
“Charging Father Christmas, what do you take me for? I just want a favor.” The man said, trying to push the suitcase closer, only for Santa’s gloved hand to stop his shove.
“I asked how much you want. No deal with the devil is free.”
“The Devil? Don’t call me that. I’m the Devil in hell, above hell I’m just a businessman, offering you a way to make your deliveries faster. A feather worthy of Hermes himself, never miss a home again. You don’t want more kids to believe that Santa hates the poor, do you? Without that Christmas spirit you might die, you look like you are already growing thin.”
“You have your favor.” Santa grumbled, snatching the suitcase, before whistling, calling his reindeer over. When the sled appeared, Santa wasted little time, hoping straight into it.
“Suppose you couldn’t give me a lift down the mountain too.” The Devil called to him but it was too late, Santa leaving him behind, forcing the Devil to let out a huff. “Jolly my ass. Oh, thanks for being quiet. Want a lift down the mountain? Course you do.”
Before Joe could even answer, the Devil snapped his fingers, the ground beneath them shifting, forming a staircase downwards. The Devil picked Joe up, tossing him over his shoulder before he broke into a sprint. The sudden sprint caused Joe to panic, the change in altitude causing him to grow lightheaded before passing out.
“You ok? Hello?” A medic shook Joe by his shoulder, waking him up. When his eyes opened, he would see the mountain in the distance, his body safety at the bottom of Everest. “You must have had a tumble on the way down. You’re alright.”
“The Devil. I saw him and Santa.” Joe deliriously spoke, causing the medic to give him a weird stare as he motioned for a stretcher.
“Right? Um, its been traumatic so you may have been imaging things, just take some deep breaths and we will get you warmed up.”
As they put Joe on the stretcher, he would see a bus leaving in the distance, the businessman seated towards the back, giving him a wave as the bus headed off, driving towards a tunnel. As soon as it touched the tunnel, a cloud of smoke rushed over it, sending it back to hell.
“I told you, that’s him, didn’t you just see the bus?” Joe called out, only for the medic to look back.
“What bus? Calm down, it’s going to be alright. You are seeing things.” The medic assured him, but Joe knew better, forced into the ambulance, wondering if anyone would ever believe what he had witnessed today.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-01-31T23:00:35 | 2021-01-31T22:58:04 | 184 | 122 |
[WP] No Man's Sky is actually a secret military experiment designed to find candidates who are capable of withstanding the monotonous task of inhabiting dull and boring worlds. You are chosen because you have the most time logged in the game out of anyone else in the world -- a whopping 42 hours. | "Now, tell us! What's the X Factor!?"
"I don't understand! What do you mean?"
"You've been subjected to psychological warfare for the last forty hours! How are you still *sane*?!"
"It's fun!"
"Put him back in the box!"
***
"Another forty hours in the box! Are you ready to talk yet?! Tell us how you do it!"
"But... But... There's so much to SEE in that box."
"This isn't the No Man's Sky Scenario. That was Active Monotony! This is *Passive* Monotony! We gave you nothing but the inside of a solitary confinement cell! Hardened soldiers go *mad* from the isolation! How are you holding on?"
"But there's a whole world in there too! A small ant colony has made their own civilization, and I'm tracking their migrations! Their hunting and gathering sorties can last for hours! The base of the box is just a dirt floor, and I've cracked the mineral composition! There's a mouse hole in the bottom left corner, and I've been training the rat to bring me things. He prefers to eat ants when mixed with a little bit of the clay, and in return he brings me-"
"Stop wasting time!"
"General, have you ever really *appreciated* the pattern of a concrete wall? It's not perfectly smooth, and when you look at it up close you see all kinds of unique-"
"Put him back in the box!"
"Oh, great timing! I have to keep up my notes on the passage of the shadows on the wall. There's a timing issue I haven't figured out yet..."
"And see if you can beat him up a little bit on the way to his cell!"
"A single world can keep you for a million lifetimes, general! But we have a million worlds and only *one* lifetime." | But I swear to god. I was away all weekend. I left the controller in the corner of the couch my cat likes to sleep in. Mr. Muffin toes must have logged all of those hours not me. "This is General Goone, we have acquired our candidate and returning to base. Tell the shuttle scientists to prepare a zero gravity litter box" | 2016-08-26T01:35:30 | 2016-08-25T22:05:20 | 117 | 14 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | "I can't believe that I've found you!" she screamed. Her face was practically glowing, she was so excited. She ran forward and leapt into my arms, and before I could even think to react her voice was resonating in my head.
"*And don't you even think of dropping me, butterfingers! I remember how you dropped your first girlfriend*."
My arms reflexively came up. Just in time too. She collapsed into my arms. Her arms latched around my neck, but she didn't put any effort into keeping herself up.
"Cori?" I asked. But it couldn't be. The girl in my head wasn't real. I've had schizophrenia since the day I'd been born. Sure, the medicine did nothing to help it, but then again...
"Of course it's me!" she chirped. "And no, you're not schizophrenic. Otherwise..."
"*I would be, too*."
And there it was. The voice that responded to my every thought. Smooth and melodic and just a little deeper than average for a girl. The same voice that comforted me when I broke up with my first girlfriend, and helped me with my math homework.
"Is it... it's really you..." Tears had come to my eyes. I tried to wipe them, but a soft hand and even softer tissue was already dabbing at my face.
"Yeah," she said. Her voice was softer than the brash and explosive timbre I was used to, but I couldn't fault her on it. This was an emotional time for both of us.
Judging from the adorable, wry smile that felt oddly in place on her, I could tell that she agreed.
Oh, and judging from the way that she was suddenly interested in anything but me told me that she was blushing from my thoughts.
"You're a jerk," she whispered. I laughed. She already knew that. She heard my thoughts for the last 37 years. "I expected you to be taller."
I winced. She knew that would hurt. Then again, I didn't expect her to be this pretty.
The blush on her face made me smile. Looks like I'm still the better heckler. God, it was amazing to finally be able to see the reactions on her face. It was also amazing to know that I wasn't crazy.
But more than all of that? It was nice to hold a friend. I hugged her tighter, and swore to myself that I would never let her go.
I didn't need to read her mind to know that she thought the same. The way her grip on my neck tightened told me enough. | I turn around and I just knew who she was.
"No, Cathy. You should've left five years ago."
Cathy gave me a big grin, her eyes filled with anger, her fingers trembling. She looked at me from head to toe, seeming disappointed.
"You should've joined me then. We were a team! Why are you still here?"
I tried killing myself with a gunshot through the head five years ago. I wanted to escape from the voice inside my head. She told me that if I ended it, all will be over, she will leave me alone. I miraculously survived. I never heard from Cathy again, until now.
"Cathy, leave me alone. Please. It wasn't my fault you died inside mother's womb. Please just let me go."
"But it was. We were together from the beginning of time. It is not right for us to be apart."
She came closer to me and hugged me tight. She was warm. She pulled me in closer and whispered to my ear,
"Come with me. We are all waiting for you."
It hurt. It went right through my chest. The last thing I saw were my walls being painted red. | 2019-09-14T13:01:41 | 2019-09-14T10:55:47 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] One day you find a 20 sided dice and roll it you get 20. From now on everything you do in your life has the the power of a natural 20. | It made everything so easy once I got used to it. For a few days after I found that weird dice I thought I was in a dream or a coma, or worse. Everything I did that came up to chance didn't just end in my favor. Things went in my favor in a spectacular way.
Any time I went to buy a product it immediately was on discount. I asked someone for a favor and they were free but not only were they free they always knew someone that could make the job infinitely easier.
At work I went from a desk drone to running the entire office within weeks. My time feeling life was out to get me was over.
Then it happened and I couldn't believe it. I ran into Julia again. It had been years but she was always that one that got away. Seeing her again made me feel nervous. I hated that, "nervous" before the dice I felt nervous, now no way.
So I asked her out and of course she said yes. Things went phenomenally but then that's when it started eating at me.
Did she actually like me. Of course she did. That was the power of the dice, the natural 20. Of course she liked me. She had to like me. Was the dice forcing her to? I loved her right?
I cheated on her. Found a hot girl in the supermarket and took her to my place. Don't even remember if I asked her name or not. Told Julia that night and Julia didn't care. She was into it. Wanted me to know that a three-way was on the table if I wanted.
A natural 20.
Suddenly everyone around me looked different. They didn't actually like me right? It was the dice. Was this happiness? It was the same thing, the same insecurity I couldn't shake it before the dice and I couldn't shake it now.
Am I really rolling a 20? | [Poem]
I rolled a perfect twenty.
And it seemed to stick.
I had all I wanted;
It happened so quick.
I added my thoughts up,
Which was my sole goal.
I figured out space-time,
Then built something whole.
My machine whirred up
With a strange sensation.
I woke as a child,
Asleep on vacation.
My memories stuck,
Which was all I've wanted.
After living without luck---
Life tragically stunted. | 2019-10-15T21:35:37 | 2019-10-15T16:52:25 | 309 | 98 |
[WP] You are a super hero. Near-instant healing, no sense of pain, super strength. The catch is, for 1 hour per year, you have to suffer all of the stored up pain and suffering from the whole year. That hour begins in just a few minutes.
Edit: Gold? Thanks! First time! | I open my eyes in a place I do not recognize even from my wildest dreams. I rise to my feet groggily, swaying unsteadily like a newborn fawn trying to test out its limbs. My head feels like it is going to explode into a billion fragments. Pain, I should mention, has not been a familiar concept to me for a year. When the Archangel had appeared in my vision, he had offered me immortality for a year in exchange for an hour of hell. I must admit, I'd spent most days afraid of nothing, but most nights terrified of what the future would bring to me.
I received my blessing at 6 AM on the 24th of December. Today is the 24th, but it's only 5 AM. I'm standing in a pitch black corridor, where I can see nothing but a white spot on the horizon. As if pulled by an inexplicable force, I gravitate towards this white speck, as it grows larger with every step that I take.
A white door.
It is a plain white door with a black knob, floating in the center of this dark universe. Beside the door is the Archangel from my dreams.
"Welcome to Hell," he says in a sombre tone. "Try to walk out with the same mind you walk in with." With that, he throws the door open.
I will be honest with you. I expected a room filled with Hell's infamous wrath; pure red flames incinerating the wills of sinners, the Devil's minions snapping their whips at the Punished, till skin gave way to flesh and bone.
But inside the room, all I could see was another room filled with pure darkness. Except in the center, was a solitary white chair. I turned to look at the Archangel for guidance, but he was nowhere to be seen. I tentatively step into the room, half expecting to turn to dust or be struck by lightning. I make my way to the chair and touch it. The surface feels icy to touch.
At this point I reconsider my punishment. Maybe I could stay here for an hour, and lie to the Archangel about it? I take a look at my watch. The time is 5 AM. None of the three hands are moving.
Exasperated, I decide to take a deep breath. I lower myself into the chair. As soon as I collapse into it fully, it comes alive. The chair begins to burn my invulnerable torso, I can feel my skin being welded to it's surface. The agony lasts until all my limbs have become part of this chair. All my mobility has been taken away from me. I glance at my watch. It is 5:01 AM.
The white door swings open. I see a little girl walk in, stopping only a few feet away from me. She is about 8-9; and just looking upon her face breaks my heart. Her eyes have sunken in to her bony face, as if she had known nothing but grief all her life. Her skin is pale, with a yellowish, sickly tinge to it. She looks me straight in the eye and begins to speak.
"To the man who tried to play God,
My father was a good man. He didn't always do good things, but he was a good man. The night you met him, he had broken into a convenience store to steal food for a family that hadn't eaten for a week. Carrying the weight of a family and the guilt of a desperate human being, he had never held a gun in his life before. Up until you broke the glass of the front door, he had never fired one either. But the sound of it terrified his already frayed nerves. The trigger was pulled more out of unconscious fear than intention. It took the life of the store owner he was aiming at but never meant to kill.
Even if you had spared my father then, he would have lived as a dead man, tortured by the unforgivable sin of his burdens. But knowing him as a good man, I know you could have shown him better. You could have been the father that he had been to me; you could have taught him the error of his ways. Instead you threw him through the soft drink machine. The glass shards punctured him but didn't let him bleed out. He begged for forgiveness in front of you, and yet you let him squirm to a horrifyingly slow death; despite knowing you could have healed the wounds he had suffered outside and the one he nursed within. But you didn't.
So this is the God you are. My father died knowing he did something he had to do to save his family. I carried my own hurt and the one he left behind on my shoulders. I didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve this.
To the man who chose to play God, this is my pain."
I stood there gaping at the young girl in horror as she turned and walked out the door. My mind was spinning out of control. The headaches had returned, and I could feel myself sweating. My breaths were dying in my throat; I could feel the onset of an incoming panic attack.
As soon as the girl disappeared, a slender, blonde haired woman walked in through the door. She looked disheveled and extremely untidy; as if she hadn't bothered to look at herself in a mirror for years.
"To the man who played God," she began. "You saw my husband standing over the mutilated corpse of the police officer he murdered. The man he brutalized for violating me in my prison cell repeatedly, as the others laughed and took turns. You took my husband; a man who was blinded by rage, rendered irrational by fury. You took a man who wanted to avenge a crime even justice refused to set right. I know what my husband did was wrong. But you always thought yourself the better man, didn't you? Then why didn't you do any better than what that flawed human being did?
To the man who tried to play God. This is my pain."
I check my watch. It is 5:02.
Edit: overwhelmed by the response to this, thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read it.
Also, really grateful to the two wonderful strangers for their silver :)
I almost only a week old here, I write at r/whiteshadowthebook.
Have a wonderful day and thank you again! | I double check the mini fridge is stocked up with food, like I always do at moments like these. Not to say it's not ever full, but it's a habit I haven't quite broken from and I don't think I'll ever break from it. It is essential you see. My phone blips and the back-light comes on. Another message.
Another "see you next week."
Another well-wisher buying into the lie that I'm holidaying in Barbados. It's not particularly a hard lie to sell, but I sold it like I always did. I tell everyone I'm spending a week off from fighting crime. Better to keep everyone in the dark, than to let my enemies know that I'm extremely vulnerable for a single hour of the year. That's the kind of secret that can kill a man. And with the amount of criminals I've put in the locker and behind bars, this is always going to be for the best.
A sigh escapes me as I double check the fridge once more. It's an anxiety thing, I know. But I have to be sure. I have to be certain. I check the cupboard above the mini-fridge and go through it. Small bottles of pills, of medicine, bandages, injections and a gun.
In the event that the pain gets too much, you know.
Not that it has ever gotten that much, but staring at it, I can feel the back of my mind itching furiously. It has been one heck of a year. Major Madness broke out and almost leveled downtown. Sultry raised an army to face me, and if not for the team, that would have gone south. I might have killed someone. And then, Rage.
I can't believe I have an arch-nemesis.
And I can't believe how much we fought this year.
Somehow, he found a way to fight longer in our last battle. I remember the fight like it was yesterday. The punches, the buildings we totaled. The collateral damage itself almost put me under if not for the government and very obvious recordings of me trying to keep Rage away from destroying everything. I still don't think he has ever hit me as hard as he did. Damn near knocked me out for good. The scariest part is, I felt pain.
We fought, and fought, and fought... and he made me grimace from the pain. And I know he knew that he was getting to me because of the stupid sly smile he gave me. And just before I could put him down, he escaped. Like he wanted to. Like he couldn't let himself fall knowing he could finally hurt me. It was and still is a chilling thought to have.
In a few minutes, my receptors will dampen all the way to zero and everything my powers have been holding back, I'll have to feel for one solid hour.
That's one heck of a kryptonite.
I survey the room once more. The small, square shaped panic room located several levels below my house. I figure my scream would be muffled enough. I locked the metal door to the room and secure the key behind all the crap in the cupboard. Best to keep it safe really. Seconds now. Mere seconds.
Checking my watch, I follow the countdown from thirty.
Twenty-nine...
Twenty-eight...
Twenty-seven...
I hear bang on the door. Something I've never heard before. As I get to my feet, the metal door blasts open and Rage walks in with his minions. Hesitation leaves me as I speed towards him. My fist connects with his face and he smashes into the wall outside the room. His minion moves to shoot me with a photon blast, but I dodge. My hand wraps around the gun and I crush it, before throwing the minion towards Rage who was beginning to get to his feet. He swats the minion away to the side nonchalantly and grins at me.
My breath catches and I glance at the watch.
Twelve...
Eleven...
My eyes widen and I hear him laugh but he doesn't move. He remains outside the door, looking at me. The sound of my heartbeat deafens me as I mentally count the remaining seconds till vulnerability. My eyes lock on his and then my mouth opens as a shrill cry escapes it. I fall to the floor as my body convulses and spasms in a degree of pain I have never endured before. And I know he's still there standing above me.
Everything hurt. Every sensation. Every thought, every slight movement, even the feeling of air on my skin is like sandpaper trying to scrape my skin off. It hurt to blink. It hurt scream but the scream came nonetheless.
Usually, I scream and cry and eventually pass out around the thirteenth minute. That's the only way I manage to avoid touching the gun. Except, I feel I might pass out sooner. And then I'll be at the complete mercy of my nemesis.
\---
/r/EvenAsIWrite for more stories. Feedback and criticisms are always welcome. | 2019-04-08T09:21:01 | 2019-04-08T07:56:28 | 1,800 | 96 |
[WP] The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. "Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask." | My father was not a good man. Not a man at all really. He tried his best. Sometimes I wish he hadn't, but no one chooses their parents. I'm lucky I had one who cared to try at all. My birth parents were sick and angry addicts, desperate for any kind of power. What was a daughter when compared to endless cosmic fire?
It didn't quite work out for em, but that's what happens when you trade in human life. Sometimes you lose it.
Like I said, Father is not a good man, but he tries.
I don't see him often. He writes me letters, in a sense. Constellations bend for him. Me too, when I concentrate. This one was different. More urgent. When the stars danced last night, they coiled and they *burned*.
I never thought that gods could die.
I never thought that father's could.
I have inherited some of his... gifts. Don't ask me how. One of them is how to Walk.
It's the name he gave me after all, "The Walk Along the Narrow Path."
I took a step...
...along
the edges...
... of the world
Into blackest night.
It was cold, dark and full of bitter hollow wind. It feels like home.
The throne was made of stone and bones and smaller, older things. The Lord of Hollow Mercy sat upon the stairs beneath it. He was tall, as if his body was stretched upon a rack and left halfway pulled apart. His face was hidden by a grey hood, draped across his shoulders. The world split around him and the light blistered against his pale skin. Even with the shadows on his face, the eyes still shown through. Red.
He looked tired.
"Path."
"Father," I said.
"I've missed you," he said. The ground began to bleed.
"You could have visited," I said. I gave the ground a Look. The blood boiled away.
"I have been occupied."
"It's been years, Dad."
He sighed. The shadows sighed with him. I sat down beside him on the steps. A splinter of ice leached inside the silence. A wooden box with red ribbon appeared in his hands. The ribbon was twisted about itself, and the bow was uneven. But he tries. I took the gift with the reverence it deserved. My Father does not give gifts without reasons. I have the scars to prove it.
I untied the ribbon and opened the box. Within the box was a crown. I dropped the box, my face as pale as him.
"I am ending, Path."
"You're a god."
"Only in a certain slant of light."
My hands shook as I lifted the silver circlet from the cold stone, it was braided from silver thread.
"Why would you ask this of me?"
"There is no one else."
"I should be honored, then."
"No, but it's yours all the same."
"You know what I'll do with it."
"Yes. Walk the Narrow Path."
As I said, my father was not a good man, but neither am I. | They called it the 'giving'.
The old priest reads the ancient scroll as a young woman is chained to the rock.
"Thus is it written".
"For fair exchange, the bride is given.
For fair exchange, the bride price is taken.
For fair exchange, the peace continues."
"Thus it is written".
As clouds gather and the light fades, a rumbling voice echoes, "For fair exchange, accepted".
The priest leads the villagers down rock steps worn smooth through the centuries. The parents not even looking back at their daughter, but following their new wealth that will last them a lifetime.
As the last villager leaves the grotto, a misty form appears in front of the terrified woman, still chained to the rock.
"Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they would just try another deity, but I will not force this on you."
The chains fall away.
"You have access to my wealth and you may live as you wish. If you want anything else instead, just ask."
Wiping the tears from her eyes, the woman glares at the old god, "Do I want anything else? ... I want this to all end. This.. this senseless 'giving'. I want this to all stop. No more 'giving'".
The old god paused, thought a while and then nodded.
"Yes, but it will be a long and difficult task. The others are set in their ways and it will take much to convince them."
"I can help you to build your strength and to find your voice, for the villagers will need to be convinced, and you can become a leader among the women, to help them find their strength and their voices. If this is your wish."
"And I will handle the other gods, for it's time for them, for all the gods, to move on." | 2022-08-09T17:25:18 | 2022-08-09T16:31:11 | 514 | 191 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | "Very funny, Michelle," Barack called into their new home, the letter in his hand. It has always been their tradition to out-prank each other when they move to a new place. JFK, alive? Barack chuckled as he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Michelle has got to come out with better pranks.
Barack closed the wooden door and walked into the hallway. Boxes of unopened stuff laid strewn across it. Eight years of presidency had bestowed him countless of possession.
"Michelle?" Barack called out again, suddenly noticing the silence in the house. Just a few moments ago, he still heard the voices of Sasha and Malia giggling from the living room, while their mother asked them about their dinner choices. Except for Barack's footsteps on the floor, the air hung still.
Something did not feel right.
"Michelle? Sasha? Malia?" Barack shouted this time, his voice mixed with a tinge of worry. This was not a prank that the girls usually play on him. His hand clutched the letter in his pocket.
"I am afraid that your wife and daughters are no longer in the house," a voice behind him suddenly said. Barack yelled as he swerved around. Standing between him and the door he just closed, stood a figure whom he has only seen on books and television.
"Martin Luther King," Barack whispered, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. He had seen his share of crazy things in his eight years of presidency, but coming face to face with dead figures was something he never expected.
Martin chuckled at Barack's response. "Yes, that is correct." He extended his hand to Barack. "And it's an honour to finally meet you, Mr President."
Barrak took Martin's hand and shook it. He straightened himself, assuming the straight posture he was well known for. Being in the presence of legends required the courtesy, though he still struggled to hide the surprise in his face. "The pleasure is mine, Dr King. Forgive me, but I must ask-"
"Your family is safe with us, Barack. And yes, the letter in your pocket is indeed from President Kennedy," Martin interjected.
"If I may, can you just walk me through what's going on here?" Barack gestured with his hands. He was feeling confused, as well as slightly taken aback. Nothing prepared him for this.
Martin sensed the unease that Barack felt. It was understandable. When Gandhi first appeared to him, he could not sleep for days. He placed a hand on Barack's shoulder. What he was about to say to Barack would be far worse than meeting dead people. "Barack, listen here, I am here to tell you that in a few weeks time, you'll be assassinated."
Barack flinched an eyebrow. "What?" Surely he was dreaming. The stress of the past eight years must have finally got to him.
The strength of Martin's hand on him, however, felt real. Martin gave Barack a sympathetic smile, just like how Gandhi had done so to him. "Yes, I am afraid so. This is just how things are supposed to work. Before you start your real job."
"Don't I get a say in this?" Barack questioned. He had been looking forward to some time off after his presidency. Another job was just out of the question. He could only lose so much hair.
Martin however, shook his head. "Barack, I am sorry, but it wouldn't be possible. My boss will not let it."
"And who is your boss, if I may ask?"
Martin Luther King smiled at the question, as if it was the question he had been waiting for Barack to ask since they first met. "His name is Jesus."
-------------
*Edited Barrack to Barack and Mr King to Dr King. Thanks for the pointer!*
/r/dori_tales | I've wanted to get into writing for a while now, my first attempt a writing since school!
Contemplating how much easier his life had been since Donald Trump took over, Barack rolled over to kiss Michelle as he does like clockwork every morning. Something caught his eye this morning. On the bedside table he saw a note. In the corner was a small symbol.
"I've seen that before" He thought. "But where?"
It slowly came into focus until he realised, it's the presidential seal! What could Trump want from him that required such an official means of communication. He reached over, grabbed the note and unfolded it. Briefly skimming through a signature caught his eye. It was identical to JFK's.
The note read "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job."
It must have been Michelle playing another joke on him. Ever since his retirement the two found themselves with so much free time that they had resorted to playing silly pranks on each other. The jokes had started to become more an more elaborate recently. Just last week Barack had got the whole family in on a joke that he in fact was never the President. After a quick google search Michelle quickly debunked this, however.
"I'll play along he thought"
Barack proceeded to dial the number written on the bottom. It seemed to ring longer than normal.
"Not committed at all" He thought. "Oh we-"
"-Hello?... *Hello!?* Barack, is that you?" whispered a worried voice.
"Yes, speaking.
.
.
.
Hang on, Joe, is that you? She's got you in on this too!?"
"Dammit Barack, the accent wasn't enough to throw you off?"
"We spent enough time together, do you think you could fool me so easily? Ha! Nice try, say hi to Jill for me and I'll see you tonight, yeah?"
"Sure thing, see you later."
As Barack hung up the smile on his face grew wider, already plotting his next prank. He realised the room had grown eerily silent, however. He could no longer hear Michelle's truffle pig impression. In fact, she was no longer in the room.
A shadow caught his eye in the doorway. A male silhouette with slightly coiffed hair and behind a female, slightly frail looking silhouette with shortish hair. | 2022-12-29T14:39:14 | 2017-05-14T10:10:47 | 274 | 10 |
[WP] A new rule on Earth is made which allows everyone to legally kill 1 person in their life, this affects the world severely & changes how everybody acts. | The law says everyone gets to kill one person in their life without needing to facing any punishment. It seemed to have minimal impact at first. After all, murders happened all the time, and many murderers are not caught. This new law essentially only affirms an existing fact.
Until I read the papers the next day:
*Billionaire family slaughtered in luxurious mansion*
Apparently some nutjobs decided it would be just to murder the rich people. And since the law says everybody gets to kill one person, they decided it would be a good idea to band together to kill an entire family.
No one was punished, it's what the law says.
The following week, rich families were murdered each day. They were all gone by Saturday. Some were strangled, some brutally stabbed, the most elaborate one involved each member from the family burned by a different killer on a stake. And then the problems really hit us.
With those poor bastards gone, no one dared to take their place. Everyone was terrified at what would happen if any of them had their names associated with a large corporation. Instead of a sight to be envied, being a famous is now something to be avoided, lest you become a target yourself.
Soon, big corporations dissolved as none wanted to take charge of management. Independent producers took over the market for a while, until people started getting killed off for marking their price too low, or giving too many benefits to their clients, or having a product too similar to the next store. Those went away as well when people decided they will just ask for free stuff together. They had to abide, the law is on the killers’ side.
People stopped interacting with one another for fear of offending the wrong person. No one would dare open their mouths to greet their next door neighbour. There were some attempts at connecting with other people, with subtle nods and shallow eye contacts. Most people would only talk to their spouse and children, those are the people you can trust.
However, with the economy in shambles, even food is a struggle. We hardly know who is running the government, the last President was assassinated two days after the law passed, and no one took his place as far as we know.
Several of my older neighbours stopped coming out to their front yard as the weather got colder. We tried to grow some crops, but that didn't go anywhere…
I'm starving as I write this, I've gone on days without food, barely any water… Yet I'm trying to sharpen my knife. The Smiths next door seem well off enough, and our family still have our quota | Every since The Amendment, there has been an increase in kidnappings; babies in hospitals to lonely adults. People started buying slaves, the rich buying by the dozens. The Amendment states that anyone who is a registered citizen is allowed to legally kill one person registered or not.
The only country that has not accepted The Amendment was Switzerland. There was a growing concern about how all countries including the rogue North Korea quickly implemented The Amendment.
When conspiracy theories went wild online, large parts of the Internet was shutdown. Various news media also had to follow the guidelines of the state to censor their broadcasts and / or publications; which of course was not publicized. Censorship ran rampant everywhere.
Countries fell one by one into anarchy as everyone started killing each other whether be it revenge, hatred or just for fun. Switzerland stood alone, doing damage control and securing their country along their borders.
The rich grew more powerful overnight. Money talks. Soon a new group of elites grew out of the anarchy, which called themselves by a familiar name, The Illuminati. They collective gathered their resources and were now looking to go after the remaining safe haven, Switzerland... | 2017-12-03T06:50:17 | 2017-12-03T06:28:57 | 146 | 39 |
[WP] Humanity was never supposed to find that cursed substance. The substance that killed over half of the galaxy at one point, yet everyone drinks coffee every day, multiple times a day! | Gorlon stared at the flashing indigo light with indignation. "Great!" she thought, "Now I have to spend the next two rotations analyzing a piece of space debris, all because the Galactic Harmony can't be bothered to pay for more than the bare minimum maintenance on the monitoring grid.” Her occipital ridges furrowed in frustration.
Once again she cursed her fate, relegated to a solitary monitoring post over a stupid mistake at the Academy. It was just as much Reekar's fault in overlooking the cracked fusion canister, but he was dead, making him a tragic victim, and her a pariah.
Catching herself fuming, she turned her attention to her breathing, slowly filling her three lungs to capacity, then emptying them rhythmically.
“I am not defined by my circumstances. I am not defined by my past actions. I am not defined. I am.” Reciting the words of Wartan, she felt her nervous system calm and her vision sharpened. She could now focus on scanning the space debris escaping from the Forbidden System.
It was a pain that these humans had advanced to rudimentary inner system travel, which meant their entire star system had to be quarantined. “It is not their fault they must remain forever isolated from the rest of the Galaxy, so have compassion.” her instructor had told her when she was first assigned to this post. She did, it was not the humans' fault their homeworld contained the planet killer. It was not their fault that the human brain produced enough of a similar chemical to wipe out an entire ecosystem.
Such fascinating creatures, they could not live without a substance that was immediately fatal to all non-terrestrial life. They even drank a refined form of it, coffee. Gorlon had watched them drink it. It was perverse. The most toxic substance in the universe and the humans displayed pleasure indicators as they consumed it.
With a flush of color displaying amusement across her dermis, Gorlon barked a series of commands to the station computer. It brought up a display of the offending object. Her skin changed from a cheerful ultraviolet to a sad burgundy. The humans had sent out another deep space probe. They wanted to know if they were alone in this universe. “It's better you think that.” she muttered softly as she ran the dummy program that would send fabricated signals of an empty galaxy back to the humans. The probe itself was disintegrated. Not a trace of Terra could ever be allowed to escape it's star system. | Poison. Toxin. A blight on the galaxy. Thousands of names have evolved over the galaxy over the controversial coffee bean, but none as disgusting as the one found on Earth.
Joe. They call it a cup of Joe! Besides an endearing, human name, coffee has infiltrated every part of life culture on that human planet. Not only does humanity not realise the danger they are in, they treat it like some sort of sacred substance, essential for their well-being and day-to-day life.
But no longer. No longer will I sit idly by, and watch wretched coffee continue to wreak havoc on the system. It took my family. It took my world. Then, I escaped the burning wreckage of my home planet, along with the seeds of that destructive plant. It survived the vacuum of space, and continued to decimate anything it touches.
It should have gone up in flames, just like my entire life, but its resilience proved too much. Now, it's my life's mission to eradicate the parasitic drug from every world I encounter, less Earth and its creatures find themselves drained entirely dry in coffee's wanton path of ruination.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-06-20T14:38:26 | 2020-06-20T09:00:12 | 114 | 80 |
[WP] While burglarizing a house, a petty thief finds the owner of it mid-suicide attempt. | "Hey, there..." said Miles in an easing tone. "Hey, let's just calm down and put the gun down."
"Don't come any closer!"
In front of him with a pistol to his temple, a middle-aged man is crying hysterically. For the past five minutes, he's been trying to convince the suicidal man to put the gun down so they could talk.
"Okay! Okay!" Milesbacked away ever so slowly. "Not getting any closer, just want to talk, is all."
"Just take whatever you want already," sobbed the hysterical man. "All my money and valuables are hidden in a floorboard underneath my bed. Just go ahead and take it so you can leave me to my fate."
Miles frowned. He would have gladly taken all of it, if it wasn't for the fact that the man in front of him would most likely off himself the second he left the room. And what would happen when the cops show up?
A simple burglary is going to turn into a homicide.
The cops will be on him faster than cleaning out a doughnut sale from right across their department. Okay... maybe not that fast, but still pretty fast.
"You know I can't do that," said Miles gently.
"Why do you care if live or die? No one else does anyway. Not my parents, not my ex, not even those stupid people I work with for three decades of my life!" The man cocks the gun and raises it up once again to his head. "Why do I even bother. They're right. I do deserve to die."
"No!" Miles shouted. If this guy dies, he could kiss his own ass goodbye along with him. There are more than few guys he's pissed off that are in prison right now. The moment they find out he's still around kicking and inside the system... well, death would probably be the easiest he's going to ever get from them.
Probably still reluctant to actually pull the trigger, the suicidal man just watched and waited for Miles to say something.
"Look," Miles sighed as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I know what it's like when life's got you down by the balls and held too tightly. I can relate. I mean, look at me." He gestured to himself dressed in all black. "I'm a fuckin' burglar wearing a woman's panty hose over my head because I couldn't even afford to buy a ski mask! The panty hose ain't even new! I stole it off my neighbor's backyard! Hell, I can still smell the old woman on it!"
Yeah. Life was tough. He probably should have planned things better before robbing a place. It just wasn't possible with the time he had left. Those loan sharks from Ricotto's place weren't fucking around. The next time they see him it's going to be either cash or coffin.
"Anyway," Miles recollected himself after his little outburst seemed to have frightened the man in front of him. "You don't see me lying down and just taking what shit life throws my way. I know it doesn't get any easier sometimes, and it can always, *always* get worse. And the times where you do get up, you're gonna find the drop is just as nasty as the first time. Maybe even worse."
The suicidal man raised and eyebrow at him, wondering exactly where he was going with this. Seemed like the points for death just kept getting higher and higher.
"You know why I still want to live no matter how shitty my life always gets?" Miles asked the man, who shook his head in answer. "It's because I see people."
"You mean like a psychiatrist?"
"Fuck no!" said Miles. "You know how insanely expensive those fucks are? Burglary takes less than what the healthcare would do to you. I'm talking about the people you see in the streets, on TV, or wherever." He took the remote that was lying down on the table and turned on the television. "See that?"
"...A purple dinosaur?"
"What the-?!" Miles saw that Barney was playing on the screen, singing the song of his people, which he found to be utter shit.
Miles changed the channel to something he could work with. After surfing the channels for who knows how long, Miles had to ask, "Why the hell is it all kids shows?"
"Ah, my niece came around and seemed to have locked the channels to her favorite shows. Hadn't had the chance to fix it yet."
Miles groaned. "Whatever. Let's just settle with Richie Rich."
Playing on the screen, Richie Rich can be seen trying to help sell some muffins for charity.
"See that kid?" Miles asked. "Look at him. He's got so much cash that he's trying to sell those stupid muffins by bundling them up with real fist sized diamonds. You probably see him as just some rich white kid that's got too much money on his hands, right?"
"Well... yeah."
"Same here," nodded Miles. "But that's not all I see. I look at this rich little kid and think 'I want that.' I want to be rich enough that I can just bundle real diamonds with crappy muffins, which are probably full of raisins anyway." He took a step closer to the man and stared him straight in the eyes. "I'm at the very bottom of a pit in life and I look up and see this rich little kid. That's the reason why I continue on to grab on to life like a motherfucking leech. I wanna live because I want to have the chance that that could happen someday to me."
Miles squatted on the rich, wood grained floors. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
"Do you understand me?" he asked after puffing out a smoke. "Probably a lot of people have it worse than me, but there are plenty of people better off than me too. Those people... I see what they have and just want it so bad. Dying would just leave me with nothing."
For a few minutes Miles just continued smoking his cigarette. It wasn't until he burned out a stick did the man beside him finally broke the silence by uncocking the gun he held.
"Now that I think about it, there are a lot of things I want too," said the suicidal man.
"Care for a smoke?" Miles offered him one from out his pocket.
"Just exactly what I wanted right now."
Miles threw him a pack and a lighter. "Keep those then. You're gonna need them."
Suddenly, the sound of sirens could be heard approaching somewhere from the street. Miles sat upright and bolted for the window he broke through. Before he left, the owner of the house called out to him.
"Hey! Thanks for being my psychiatrist for today!"
Miles grinned and gave a thumbs up. "And I charge less than those fancy scammers!"
As Miles jumped over the fence of the home, he realized something. He didn't charge anything at all. Heck, he even gave his last pack of cigarettes and his one and only lighter, so he actually lost more money.
"Shit! What the hell am I gonna do now?!"
| I'd always wonder how they'd find me. Who would be the first to find meaning in an empty seat or a missed call, and who would be the first to care enough to act on it? The faces flickered through my mind: Dr. Jensen, knocking furiously on my door, in search of the shining spark that illuminated his discussions. Annie Potter, weeping over the body of the boy she'd admired from afar but never had the courage to approach. My parents, standing stone-faced in front of my headstone, wondering where they'd gone wrong and what they could have done. The officers who kicked down my door would shake their heads and bemoan a life lost so young, and the crowds would assemble before my doorstep, with their handkerchiefs and veils, exchanging stories about their brief interactions with me, hoping that it wasn't yet too late to win my favor. I'd watch the whole scene from the afterlife, pointing out to St. Peter my true friends from the fair-weather ones. We'd share a laugh over that and chill and lament over human inauthenticity.
Yeah, right.
The flies would be the first to find my corpse. Then the roaches. The first person to find me would be a maintenance man checking in on some plumbing or a short circuit. He'd see half a body on the couch and call the cops. They'd go door-to-door asking who lived in apartment 2B, but nobody would be able to tell them. Their search would lead them all the way to the university, where they'd cross-check course rosters to determine the name of the person who suddenly disappeared from all his classes. They'd print the announcement in the paper—Andrew Rohrer, 23, found dead in apartment—beneath a gas station robbery and an ad for dog food. Nobody would notice until the school remembered three days after the burial to issue its death email announcement, with the information about grief counseling that nobody would need. People would look up my Facebook, send friend requests that my mother would accept on my behalf, and share stories all beginning with the same line. "I didn't know him that well, but..."
I didn't know if I was going to write up a note. I wanted to give props to my people, the few who had stuck through me thick and thin. But every time I thought about it, things got messy. Should I mention Lindsay Garrett for eating lunch with me once? Should I mention Arnold Harris for befriending me through freshman year? Should I mention Professor Blumfeld for steering me through the marshes of creative writing? My life needed a proper bibliography, but it was a pain determining whether certain sources had influenced the work enough to warrant a mention. Ultimately, I decided to put it off: I'd wait for the pills to begin to kill me, and then I'd start writing and see how far I got.
Turns out, the answer was not so far. The room began to fade in and out of focus. The pen felt unnatural in my hand, the universe taking yet another shot against my writing aspirations. My thoughts came out as a scrawl that curved diagonally through the paper and off the table. As my arm fell to the side, I collapsed sideways onto the floor. Pain bubbled in my stomach, trying to fend off my overwhelming desire to just sleep.
The door cracked open. At first, I thought it a hallucination, and then, I wondered if an earthquake had shaken it loose. But it swung open further, and a figure merged into my vision. It was black and featureless, like a figment of my expanding unconsciousness. Although I couldn't see its face, I could sense its feelings. It looked at me and stepped backwards in shock, then rushed over me, concern hanging from each breath.
"Why are you...what happened?"
It was a scrawny, high-pitched voice, the kind I'd have attempted to disguise with a masculine verve every time I spoke. He was just a kid, maybe a freshman. His sleeves hung loosely from his arms; that hoodie couldn't have been his.
"Get up." His eyes met mine as he threw off the hood. "Get up!"
The intruder rolled me to a sitting position against the couch. His hands felt warm against my hands and my stomach. How nice of him to properly arrange me for my funeral. I tried to laugh, but all that came out was a frothy, white gurgle. It was okay: he didn't deserve my condescension.
A knife clattered to the floor from his pocket. I wondered if he would've actually killed me. Sometimes, I fantasized about getting mugged or assaulted and going out swinging. A man, cut to ribbons, buried in his own blood—it was a better legacy than anything I could ever wish for. But tonight, the knife would remain unused. The intruder slid it away and began to shake me. It was the most human contact I'd felt in months.
"Wake up!" My stomach recoiled with each punch he administered. He was a wimp, but it still hurt. It hurt to hear each cry that accompanied each fist. It hurt to be cared for like this. I should've been annoyed; to this guy, I was nothing but a cash cow until I started dying. But in the moment, I felt strangely empowered. I was successful enough to be robbed. I was threatening enough to warrant a knife. I was important enough to be saved.
Before I passed out, I felt the medicinal bile rush up my throat. I tasted the half digested pills swimming around my mouth. I saw the mess of blue spew forth onto my lap, and I knew was going to live. | 2016-09-07T21:25:36 | 2016-09-07T20:05:12 | 68 | 11 |
[WP] Reincarnation is real, unknown to all, but the gods. Most beings live out multiple lives cyclically as humans or other life-forms and are always random. But these two souls are always human, always find each other, and are always romantically exclusive upon discovery. The gods take interest. | “Beauty is what stops people in their tracks. No matter what they are doing, if they having the best day or worst day of their life, if they are in love, if they are in pain, they will stop to look at beauty.”
“But beauty fades, mother,” Cupid said, his eyes still burning with that youthful fire, the idealism that would never fade. “Love is like water. It can come and go, but it always there. Inside of you. You must work at beauty, obsess over it, wonder whether or not you have enough of it. Love can fill your spirit like nothing else.”
“But no person can deny beauty. People can deny love for duty, for purpose, for art. But they cannot say no to beauty.”
Cupid said nothing. Venus could get particularly nasty when pushed into a corner, and had an underrated penchant for revenge.
“We’ll see, shall we, son? Let’s have a wager about your two favorite souls in this world…”
\-
Cupid watched the man walk past the café for the umpteenth time, and the fire dimmed a little bit more inside of him. He watched the woman, the other half of the man’s soul, as she watched from the café window, bored and tired from another long day of work.
This incarnation of them would have gone like any of the other ones, save for his mother’s intrusion. It was perfect. He had started coming in to work on his sketches, and she would give him tips and hints, each of them brightening the other’s day.
But then Venus had put the model in the man’s life, and he had fallen quickly, spending all his time and money on this new beauty. The barista was pretty, but the model was a knockout, a face destined to be photographed. The man was infatuated, devoted, but not in love.
How could the man not see what was in front of him? They were made for each other, as they had always been. They were both artists, seeing beauty in the world around them, in a telephone pole, in a bicycle, in a palm tree, wondering how they could get everyone else to see what they wanted. They were both kind to a fault, their feelings hurt when others told them they were too nice, too naïve. They were both lonely, wondering if there was anyone else out there like them…
Cupid wondered if he should get involved. It was too painful to watch this, the man forced to take pictures, wear a smile just because he couldn’t look away from the model’s face. But still:
*“Love can be pushed into a corner, but the truest form, it will always find a way.”*
That is what he always believed. Sometimes, he had to shoot an arrow to save a marriage or spur a shy kid into action, but mostly, he loved to watch. Love was one of the unseen forces in the universe, along with gravity and inertia. You had to trust it.
But his trust was fading.
\-
“Maybe you’ve won, mother,” Cupid said.
“Of course I did,” Venus said, a smug smile on her face as she ruffled her son’s hair.
“I really thought they would always be together. That café is where they are supposed to fall in love.”
“There’s no supposed to, son. There’s just beauty, and the quest to obtain it.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Don’t feel bad. There’s a reason you are my son. You see, love is just how you appreciate beauty.”
*It’s more than that,* Cupid thought even as he nodded in agreement.
\-
Cupid was in the city again. A woman had fallen off the wagon and cheated with her boss, and now she was on her way home. Cupid was there to shoot an Arrow of Honesty into her heart, and hopefully make the confession go smoothly.
Then he saw the man, sitting on a bench, with the woman approaching. He lowered his bow, and tuned in to their conversation.
“Hi,” she said. “Do you remember me?”
The man looked up, and smiled, as if finally remembering his identity after a bout of amnesia. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to come back in, but I didn’t get the chance.”
“You never come in anymore. You used to come in with that girl. What was her name?”
“We broke up,” he said. “She wasn’t right for me.”
“That’s too bad,” the girl said. “What are you sketching?”
“A bluebird. I was actually just walking, and then I saw it, and it stopped me in my tracks, you know?”
“Really? Bluebirds are my favorite. Want some help? My dad used to take me bird watching when I was a kid.”
“That’s be great…”
Cupid smiled, wishing he could stick around and watch. But he turned around, and had no doubts as he did so. After all, love always finds a way. You just had to trust it.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | He’s fighting for his life.
His blade flickers like silver fire, moving in sweeping arcs and rapid thrusts. Hers moves like glowing lightning, so fast it leaves afterimages. Two knights - one male, one female - stand in the middle of a forest clearing.
"Surrender," he says.
“And bend the knee? Serve that tyrant?” She spits.
“He wants what’s best for the kingdom,” he says.
“He wants nothing but power. You’ve seen what he’ll do to get it.”
“The ends justify the means,” he says, but he doesn’t seem so sure. His blade drops, and so does hers.
“Do you really believe that? I know you’ve seen what he’s done to those villages.”
He grimaces. “What else is there? Where else could I go? What else could I do?”
“You could come with me,” she states quietly.
And after a moment, he does.
---
—
She’s in a sitting-room with her family, discussing her engagement.
“You can’t marry a baker,” her mother says. “He’s low-class.”
“I can and I will,” she says. “I love him.”
“Then you shall have nothing from this family. No money, no inheritance.”
She simply leaves without another word.
---
—
He’s standing aboard one of the greatest ships ever built, the wooden planks creaking beneath his feet. A pirate’s skull and crossbones fly above the deck.
“Incoming!” He cries, adjusting his eyepatch. “It’s the law!”
His crew scramble to their stations. They know their duties.
As the first wave of cannonfire comes, he looks through the telescope at the incoming navy.
He can see the captain of their flagship.
He can see her blow him a kiss.
---
—
She’s walking into a coffeeshop with plans to work on her dissertation. He comes by with her usual order before she even asks.
“Long day?” He asks.
“You know it,” she says with a grin. “I could use a little company.”
“My shift ends in five minutes.”
No work gets done, naturally.
---
—
He’s storming the compound with a fireteam of six. She’s right at his side.
“Breach!” He shouts, but then a hail of bullets blows through the door and turn his organs to mush. He collapses, streaming from a dozen wounds.
Something inside her breaks.
---
—
She’s going public with the stolen data - revealing the megacorp’s transgressions to the world.
“They won’t let you live,” he says. “I know their operations, inside and out.”
“Then turn me in,” she says. “It’s your job.”
Instead, he hands her his handgun and his multipass.
“You’ve got twenty-four hours before they find out and deactivate it,” he states. “Good luck.”
She steps close, and her lips meet his.
---
—
He’s pushing through the Empress’s flagship, blaster at the ready. It spits hot streams of plasma at its crew.
When he breaks into the engine room, he plants a bomb at the base of the reactor.
“How could you do this?” she cries over the intercoms. “I loved you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he murmurs under his breath. “But it’s for the greater good.”
And nuclear fire consumes the ship.
---
—
She’s fighting entropy in a dying universe.
And as the cold sets in and the reactors die, she holds him tight.
---
—
And when it all has ended and it all begins anew...
He awakes alone in an endless, empty plain.
Well, almost alone.
---
/r/OneMillionWords | 2019-07-21T23:08:41 | 2019-07-21T23:04:58 | 197 | 67 |
[WP] The year is 2018. You've been living in a bunker in the woods since Y2K | From the cover of the tall bushes, Ted watched the hikers go by. They were the first human beings he had seen in nearly two decades. Man and woman. Well-dressed in new clothes, looking well-fed, and clean, with full backpacks, wearing shades and bright smiles. Clearly not scavengers, or marauders, or refugees from the wastes of former society. These people could have stepped out of a commercial for The Gap.
The man had a small device in his hand that he was playing with. He said something to the woman about trying to get a signal. Is that a cell phone? thought Ted. He had never seen anything like it.
It was ultimately that strange gadget in that man's hand that brought Ted's entire perception of the world to heel. Carefree hikers wandering around with technology from 2018. Human civilization still existed.
Ted felt ill.
The hikers passed by so close that Ted could have reached out and touched them. He wanted to, and had to hold himself back. The woman was complaining that they were lost, while the man was trying to sound calm in saying that they weren't. But of course they must have been lost. Ted lived nearly 10 miles from the nearest public trail.
When the hikers disappeared still bickering into the bramble, Ted doubled back to his bunker. A rubber mat, obscured by dirt, covered the ladder leading to the 1100 square foot concrete bomb shelter he had made his home. His life savings had gone to constructing it, in secret, outfitting it with an aquifer replenished by rainwater, copious canned goods (long since exhausted - he missed pineapple most of all), a kitchen to prepare the food he hunted, and a solar powered generator that gave him just enough juice to read by lamplight in the darkness down there. Along with some various other creature comforts that made existence more bearable. Now his bunker felt to him like a prison, and he wandered around in a rage, knocking books from shelves and pans from the stove, kicking the wall, shouting.
He had wasted 18 years of his life.
Ted set to packing a knapsack with some essentials, thinking he might head in the direction of Cheyenne. But then he stopped himself, uncertain.
When you were a teenager, you probably had days spent sleeping in until 1 or 2 PM, followed by the mortifying first steps out of your room, when family members would say "it lives!" and so on. Now imagine you had slept in for 18 years.
Ted was mortified by himself.
He sat on the hard floor of his bunker, crying bitterly.
Then came voices. The woman from before. They had wandered in a circle.
"What the fuck? Is this a floor mat?"
The man: "Huh? That's weird."
Ruffling, then. The sound of these two strangers pulling back the curtain on Ted's life. Ted quickly extinguished his lamp, an instinct he had drilled into himself for dealing with intruders.
The man again: "it's a ladder."
Woman: "Bomb shelter, you think? Like from the cold war?"
"Wanna check it out?"
"Tom, don't. There could be anything down there. Animals or toxic waste."
More ruffling noises. Then a bright beam of light like the emanation of God shining all the way down the shaft and hitting the bare floor, the light's edge not 10 inches from Ted's left big toe.
"I don't see anything." The man - Tom, was it?
"We don't have time for this. We need to keep going."
"There could be food down there. Could help."
Ted's lower lip was trembling.
"You said we'd be back on the trail in five minutes. What happened to that? You're talking like we're going to be stuck out here overnight."
The light clicked off.
"Don't worry so much. We're not *that* lost."
"If I shouldn't worry, then tell me where are we. Huh?"
"We should keep going north. We're bound to hit the trail sooner or later that way."
"You're closer if you head west," Ted said, voice hoarse from infrequent use. He was on his feet standing at the ladder. He had surprised even himself.
The light came back on, directly in his face now. "What the..." started the man.
Ted visored his face with one hand. "If you go north, you'll be parallel with the trail. You won't get back that way. Need to go west. And stop walking in circles. I saw you here less than an hour ago."
"Jesus," was all the woman could say.
"Wow," was all the man could say. Then: "is this your house?"
"Been here since 1999," Ted said. Then after an awkward silence: "so... what'd I miss?" | ***Mole***
Again. The cold. The dark. Feeling the slithering blackness, the feeling of the world rumble above. Who knows what is happening. Who'd guess that the world would end this way?
They said the bombs would fall when the clocks failed. The airplanes would drop like flies upon the corpse of a dead world. Some believed that we deserved it - defiling our Mother, fucking other men, war and violence, lack of god, alien crop circles, ancient pyramids, and seas of love that would swallow humanity whole.
But no.
It came in the beautiful, simple form of 4 digits.
2
0
0
0
Day one.
New Year's Eve.
Their faces, so frightened.
Day 7.
The silence was killing me. Play the radio on the radiator. Feel the heat blow out of the jigsawed kettle, make tea, sweep floors, imagine the blue sky turned black. Eat, sleep, dream. Pull out the porno collection. Try to make sense of time.
Day 365.
Feel the veins leak blood across the brain. Close your eyes and see the neural collections firing. Get good at imagining things. The sea, sandy beach, buttery sunsets dipped in red wine. Kissing, fucking, rolling in silk sheets. Open mouth, breath, cry, feel the phantom heartbeats. No one listened. Now they are dead.
Dead.
Gone.
Buried.
Year 4.
Get used to hearing the Quiet. It is knocking on the concrete walls. It's whispering through the cement windows. Find hope. Try to hide away.
They'd grown so reliant on everything. Now, I have nothing. I am truly free.
Pull out the porno.
Fall asleep.
Year 10
So long. Given up shaving - the mirror is cracked, but I look like a dog. A beast. No, rats, dug into brick holes. Build an internal world up, piece by piece. Write down the stories, hear the whisperings. Like trees. But there can't be trees. Bushes and leaves, flowers pressing their lips against a man's dreams. Find a way to escape.
No.
You will die. You have to go.
No.
Go back to sleep.
Year 17.
Eating the last remains of food. Don't know how long I've got left. Spend most time screaming in my head. Porno got ripped. The clock stopped ticking. Please, I wish I wasn't alone. I think I need to end it. Winter's coming. Snow is falling, invisibly, the cold searing my flesh, burning away the skin to the bones. But I have my little worlds, full of little people. Made of words and dreams, spun together with frightened imaginings. I have to escape.
I have to go.
No.
The Quiet is hearing, the Quiet is listening. Humanity failed because of technology. You must regress back to nothing.
Year 18.
I am sick of surviving. Someone, please kill me. Dreams, dreams, dreams. I scratched a porno out on notepads. They'd stopped being useful years ago. Content with my little wood stove. Run out of food.
Knock, knock, knock.
Just voices.
They can't be real, that's stupid. I will ignore them. It is simply the Quiet trying to trick me. Back to sleep, back to dream.
I hear them, with heavy axes pounding on my door. The mutant descendants of a world I'd left behind.
Breathing, fire and gold light.
Quiet.
Go back to sleep. | 2018-01-02T07:48:29 | 2018-01-02T07:10:15 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] Hell is an RPG, complete with skills levelling and save points where the damned grind their way to Heaven. A newly dead scrub on level one, you decide to play through like you do in other RPGs and invest at least 1 point in Luck every time you level up. | ######[](#dropcap)
Kael glanced around before furtively making his way to the edge of the cliff.
He had scoped the place out beforehand. Hell had seven levels, complete with monsters, demonic beings, and torture. It *was* possible to get out, but it took either a lot of skill and talent, or a lot of effort, neither of which Kael had or wanted to put in. So he stuck a point into luck each time.
Yes, it had caused him to fall behind his same class arrivals, some of who were already more than halfway to layer two, but he had a plan.
He leaned over a just a little and watched the bubbling pit of lava below him. If he died here, all of his levels and stats would be gone. He would have to start anew. Just the prospect itself was a little daunting. He took a deep breath.
And jumped.
For a moment, he was sailing through the air, the crimson walls streaming past him.
Then, he was scrabbling at the hard-packed dirt, his fingers struggling to find purchase so he wouldn't fall into the lava below. His finger found a stray root from a devil's tree, and he pulled himself up, his heart pounding.
He looked back at the mainland, the large area where all the quests took place. He had discovered this place when he was gallivanting around at level 1. At level 1, you might as well be invulnerable. If you died, you didn't lose anything. So he had used his sweet time exploring.
And his exploration had paid off. He had discovered that on the edge of the map, just beyond devil's cliff, there was a huge pillar. Not just a pillar, but what appeared to be a set of stairs, almost tucked away behind a glamour of invisibility, but his one extra point in luck had allowed him to glimpse it, just for a second.
It must be how the monsters got around from floor to floor. They had to go home for the day too, so it made sense that there would be a separate employee's entrance. After all, no matter how much the devil tried to imitate an actual RPG, it seemed unlikely that he would spend his resources teleporting monsters around.
Kael clambered to his feet and rushed toward the pillar. Once he reached it, he stuck a hand out. The glamour shimmered for a second around his hand. He stepped forward again, and it faded.
Now he could see the stairs, a huge set of crystal steps set into the hard quartz of the pillar that seemed to spiral into the heavens themselves.
He felt giddy. It couldn't possibly be this easy. All those points he had put into luck had finally paid off.
He took the first step.
And a heavy weight pressed down on his shoulder blade.
He froze, holding his breath.
Then he looked back to see a man in a suit standing there, a large grin on his face.
"What are you doing there?" the man said. His head cocked to the side, not unlike a bird of prey, and his pupils narrowing into slits like a cat's.
"Um...I'm just checking the stairs for you. Wanted to see if they were in order. You know, maintenance can be a huge hassle, and it's important to check on the infrastructure..." Kael felt the rest of the words tie on his tongue. He was sweating profusely, and he was sure the man's hand would be soaked through if he didn't let go of his shoulder.
The man looked at for a moment, his expression serious, and then he broke into uproarious laugher, the snake fangs in his mouth becoming crystal clear. His forked tongue flitted, and he settled his gaze back on Kael.
"Unit 91281, huh? I like you. You've got a sense of a humor." He walked in a circle around Kael, taking his appearance in. "You know what? I'll make an exception, just because I like you so much." He pulled a small silver medallion from his pocket and flipped it into the air.
Kael reached forward to catch it. The medallion was ice cold, and on its surface was carved the image of an apple.
"You and I are quite similar people." He paused, then smiled. "Sorry, not people. I'm a Seraphim. But we're similar, and I like to watch my people succeed. So I'll cut you a deal. You keep that medallion on you, and you can avoid the final boss fights."
The man made to walk away, then turned around. "Actually, I'll do one better. You manage to find me again, I'll give you the option to rule hell with me."
In a flash of red smoke, he was gone, leaving Kael to stand there slack-jawed, staring at the medallion in his hand.
Had his luck just won him the favor of Lucifer?
*****
I'm actually writing an RPG fantasy story on my sub (r/AlannaWu), so if you liked this story, you might like the story called [Digital Phantom](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlannaWu/comments/8b0wvi/wp_you_die_in_a_virtual_reality_pod_and_now_your/)! Thanks for reading!
| Fixed all the formatting. Want part 2?
**Part 1?**
Everything before him was barren. The ground cracked beneath him as he took a few confused paces forward. Disoriented, he looked around for some clue about where he was. The solid parts of the ground beneath him looked as if they were molten, but had recently cooled. Ahead, he could see mountains, but they must be hundreds of miles away. Just then, there was a loud *Whoosh*, a *Splat*, and then a sizzle. He looked towards the sound and saw there, levitating, an enormous rectangle. On it, a picture of himself and the following text:
>NAME: SAMUEL
>AGED: 36
>LEVEL: 1
>HP: 15/15
>MP: 6/6
*What is this?* He wondered, and shook his head in disbelief. As he shook his head, the rectangle followed his movements as if it were some kind of HUD. He began playing with it, testing its thresholds. He moved his gaze toward the ground, and sure enough, the HUD followed his eyes and could be seen on the ground as if there were a movie projector attached to his forehead. He gave a few more desperate glances to his surroundings, but no more clues presented themselves.
Out of ideas, he started walking toward the mountains. Out of nowhere, the ground swirled beneath him in a vertigo-inducing tornado while the beat of rock drums and guitar trumpeted out a single measure. Dazed, the ground beneath him began to stabilize. Before him were 3 pixelized harpies. He looked to the sky and could see a new rectangle next to his statistics.
>HARPY X3
The HUD sat there with a blinking cursor. *What the heck do I do now?* He thought. He reached his hand out and discovered that he could interact with it. *ATTACK, MAGIC, ITEM, RUN*. He tried to run but received the message "Samuel tried to run, but his party was surrounded." *Dammit.*
Samuel thought for what seemed to be eternity, but the enemy never advanced. *Am I in a video game?* Certainly it was all just a dream so he made his choice.
>ATTACK – HARPY 1
>SAMUEL ATTACKED HARPY 1
>HARPY 1 SUFFERS 12HP DAMAGE
>HARPY 1 DIES
>HARPY 2 COVERS BARE CHEST WITH TREMBLING HANDS AND RUNS AWAY
*Two down. I wonder if I have any other tricks up my sleeve.* Samuel pointed to MAGIC. He thought to himself, *Wow, I know spells?*
>ICE 1 – HARPY 3
>SAMUEL CAST ICE 1 ON HARPY 1
Samuel’s hands animated themselves and he watched himself cast pointy ice shards from his hands toward the harpy. *Contact!* He exclaimed to himself. The ice shards stabbed the chest of the harpy and a violent screech assaulted his ears.
>HARPY 3 SUFFERS 19 HP DAMAGE
>HARPY 3 DIES
A victory fanfare erupted on the play field, startling Samuel. He was accustomed to pop music, so the nicely arranged bars melted away from his ears unappreciatively. He cracked a victory smile none-the-less.
>SAMUEL GAINS 7 EXP
>SAMUEL BECOMES LEVEL 2!!
>SAMUEL’S HP INCREASES FROM 15 TO 18!!
>SAMUEL IS AWARDED 4 ATTRIBUTE POINTS!!
Samuel was given the option to apply these points to *intelligence, luck, strength,* and *virtue*. He knew that if anything was going to get him out of this hell alive, it was going to be luck, so he hastily applied all four points in this direction. | 2018-04-16T13:41:37 | 2018-04-16T10:40:48 | 1,342 | 173 |
[WP] The newly elected president of the USA makes a surprise announcement: he/she will not make a single decision while in office, and instead unveils a new smartphone app that will allow citizens to decide everything.
Potential issues that could be addressed (feel free to ignore if you like) :
The app could be a simple voting system... or it could work any way you think is interesting.
Are resources given to help people decide what decision to make?
Do people actually bother to become informed before weighing in?
What happens when the decision involves classified information?
How does the president deal with any disagreements he has with the decisions people make for him?
Edit for clarification: the app only allows people to decide things that would normally be decided by the president. Every time the president is faced with a decision, people get to decide for him. | A knock, then the door to the Oval Office opens.
With disdain in her voice the attendant announces “The Vice President is here sir.”
“Thank you.” The Vice President enters. “Goundry! Come on in!“
“Good morning Mr President.”
They meet in the centre of the room and shake hands. They stand close, eye to eye. “And what a wonderfully amazingly good morning it is. I love your visits Goundry. This is the fourth year that your People of the United States App has kept me in the White House and the nation has so very much to celebrate. But before we have our discussion about why distributed decision management of the USA works so well, and then why you want to remove your app from the app store forever, I want to make sure you know how thankful I am to you.”
“But, there’s really no need.” The President cuts him off.
“Oh hush. There is most certainly a need. I know why you want to cancel the app. Your app is why I’m still in this office and you haven’t yet had your chance to show the world that you are the real reason that the US is doing so well, not the app. Now, isn’t that true?”
Goundry’s eyes go wide and he stammers. “No, well, the app has, ahhh, certainly done more than I expected.”
The President raises his voice. “More than you expected? You expected that the people of the Unites States would have decided to reduce taxes to zero and change the name of our country to Freedom McFreeface. You expected them to decide to invade Canada, lower the drinking age, make polygamy legal. You expected it to bring chaos and make me a laughing stock.”
Goundry glances down at the rug and shuffles on the spot.
The President stares intensely into Goundry eyes. “Instead you gave the people the power and they made you look stupid. Taxes are higher than ever and no-one complains because they understand the need to share the wealth because the app said so. We haven’t gone to war with anyone in all these years, the economy is in perfect balance. People feel free and happy because they feel like they have the power to control their own futures. Life in our country is better than ever now that the people decide the important things. Because the people think that through the app they control this office and therefore this country.”
“But Mr President, why did you ask the People to decide if you should have me tried as a traitor for suggesting we remove the app?”
“I put that question the People because you’re the only thing standing between me and another four years.” He waits then looks at his phone. “Don’t look so nervous, Goundry. The People haven’t decided yet.”
| “The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter". (Winston Churchill)
The president of the greatest country in the world looks out an impeccable window and knows that he will be dead within four years. His old tired face is reflected back to him and a single tear glides down his ache scared facial features and mixes with heavily applied makeup. He stands as one of the most powerful men in the world but recognizes that the test results show his time on this earth is limited.
This understanding has led to his once proud ethical ideals become stripped away as rage at his own mortally unleashes itself within his mind. This rage started out hot but has slowly died down to a more cold logical emotion. He the president, will provide his citizens with true democracy for the first time in any nation’s history. A smartphone app has been created that will allow americans to decide everything including if he should use his executive powers.
He knows that most people know nothing about politics and this app will ruin his great country but he simply doesn’t care anymore. He will wait and watch as his country breaks downs while his body does the same. His name is Donald Trump and he will bring true democracy to his nation.
This is my first story, any advice would be appreciated. | 2016-06-25T19:57:43 | 2016-06-25T18:09:10 | 44 | 16 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | Lucius shot me a vicious smile from the other side of the table. His right hand moved in a slow, circular motion which caused the ice to orbit the center of his amber colored drink. The room was lit with the dancing light of a stone fireplace no smaller than 20 feet wide and 8 feet tall. The focal point of the smoking room was a masterpiece of stonework. The fire roaring in the background so large, it could not be enjoyed from any closer than the 15 paces off we currently sat.
"I've heard your conditions, what are the stakes?" smoke slowly billowed out of his nostrils. The scent of a Romero Y Julieta cigar unmistakable from such a small distance.
"A dangerous undertaking requires equally dangerous stakes. Money to men like us is such a trivial thing. Would you agree?"
"I would" The Illuminati's leading chair of the circle of 8 shot me a look of genuine intrigue. A rarity in his later years.
"A life then, one of value. Mine." My eyes focused like lasers as the last word left my lips. His eyes widened.
"Interesting. And if I were to fail?" His stare matched my own intensity. Curiosity seems to have encircled him. Good.
"Your seat on the circle of 8." The fire cracked loudly beside us. Storms of shadows flickered across the room followed by sharp flashes of flaming light that illuminated the hooded mans face. He was old now. Old, and weak of will. Men of 90 years should not hold such power. They should die. Letting those without decaying minds gracefully assume the roles they have overstayed their welcome in. I began to suspect he did not have the gall for such a wager.
"Unheard of for a 2nd generation Illuminatus. But you know this. I am intrigued. I accept your wager." His eyes still locked on mine.
"Then I wish you luck Lucius. Goodbye." My hand cut through the air like glass. Extending just shy of halfway across the table. Even the smallest of gestures were battles of dominance. He met me across the halfway point, grasping my hand with the little strength he had in his decrepit state. A smug grin barely visible across the wrinkles plaguing his face. I returned the gesture all too happily. This man was in title my better, but my mind was far sharper than his. The difference of a common kitchen knife to a blade crafted from Damascus Steel.
The western hallway leaving the smoking room was well lit. Dull shades of orange illuminating from electric lanterns, mimicking their now obsolete kerosene brethren.
The sudden sound of glass exploding onto the surface of a stone floor broke the silence of the hallway. It was done. Lucius would die within the hour. I walked around 20 paces before carefully removing the thin layer of translucent rubber surrounding my right hand. Pausing briefly in the hallway to ensure the surface did not make contact with my exposed skin. The ricin dosage applied to the rubber palm would not induce death for a man in such health as I and even so, death does not frighten me. Accidental contact would simply be an inconvenience and unacceptable in the coming weeks.
The mockery that has been made of this society over the 30 years of Lucius's reign were at an end. The thought of bored old men continuing to wager something as trivial as currency in exchange for transforming global events for a single day more disgusted me. My cause was just, my actions necessary.
The wager mattered not. An assassination of the Heads of State during the upcoming G7 meeting was proposed to satisfy my own curiosity on whether Lucius still had the will to continue this society's historically..... unpleasant works. The pursuit of the greater good takes a leader of unique moral..... flexibility. Lucius lost sight of this. I was pleased he accepted my wager, although certain he only did so once my life was offered as forfeit. He was not a stupid man. I have no doubt he knew of my intentions but thought me simply unready to act.
Regardless, the circle of 8 becomes 4 tonight. The Illuminati is not a club for the bored and powerful. It once again has purpose. Ensuring mankind follows the path we enlightened few have set out for it so it does not stray into the dark. We are the invisible hand that guides from the wisdom of an all seeing eye. Under my lead, we will once again be the masters of this world.
Edit. Spelling, grammar.
| "Will you do it?"
The probie leaned back into his battered leather armchair, contemplating the enormity of the request with steepled fingers, just failing to hide trembling lips. Audacious was too pedestrian a word for the scale and horror of the opportunity presented to him.
"It's never been done" he muttered, though teeth stained by champagne and cigars.
"Oh it most certainly has been done. But he grew too attached to the trappings of the position, and failed to walk away when agreed."
I saw dull confusion spread across his pasty face as he struggled to absorb this revelation. New money: they were all the same. Parents too busy forging their successes in the boardroom to groom their children properly for a life in the back room, where all the real decisions were made. The finest education money could buy, and not a shred of wisdom.
"It will take a lot of money." He was nervous now, as expected. His need for acceptance, long obvious to those such as we, was all that kept him in that chair and not dashing out to his waiting chauffer in panic. Or perhaps he had some inkling of the consequences such a lapse in judgement would invite.
"More than you know." My eyes fixed unblinking on his.
"And for me? Everything you promised?" A badly disguised play for the last exit, couched as bargaining. Truly this one was an open book.
"Everything. Full membership."
And he was bought and paid for. There was no greater motivating daemon for a man than his own mortality; to have it promised away, and by someone 115 years old and thought long dead but visibly in the prime of their life, was not something any ordinary fool could resist.
This one was as ordinary as fools came. Perfect, as it turned out, for our purposes.
"Hell yeah. Let's do it." Empty bravado over an empty soul. Ugh. Now for the firm hand - offer the prize, then threaten to take it away.
"Know this. You will maintain the deception until you die. Our power and reach are limitless, and you will wish for death if you betray us."
A nod.
"You will believe what we tell you to believe. You will claim, and promise, what we tell you to. When the time comes for you to ascend the podium to accept your prize, you will say the words we tell you to say, step down, and return to us to witness the inferno they spark; as the people consume themselves in shame at their own folly. Finish what George could not."
The probie muttered quietly into the subcutaneous bug he didn't know he had, as he gargled the last of his champagne and stumbled out of the private room.
I was still chuckling at that last defiance when my friend and co-conspirator joined me, three hundred year old brandy in hand.
"Do you know what that buffoon said, Rupert?" I whispered, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes.
"Tell me, Ronald."
"I don't need your words. I know words. I have the best words." | 2016-08-23T17:34:59 | 2016-08-23T17:17:24 | 49 | 15 |
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