prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP]”Why aren’t you scared? I’m a vampire— I could kill you!” “So could literally every other human, you’re not special.” | The thing about sentient monsters, and especially immortal ones, is that they're *all* filled with ego. Some of them are better than others--more akin to filling a vessel, rather than filling a balloon--but no sentient thing lives for hundreds of years with being smug about it. It is one the unspoken weakness of their kind.
Which is why, here and now, I am so calm. Here, in a castle against my will, with a vampire stalking the room, attempting to taunt it's food. I am calm, bexause it needs this game, just as much as it needs blood, to live. This has been going on for some time, now, and the creature's wits seem to be near it's end.
"Why do you not fear me? I am the brood of the night, the drinker of blood, a vampire--I could kill you in a single swoop!"
"Yes, as could any normal man. Or even a particularly lucky or talented child, for that matter. You are most certainly not special in that regard."
The undead screeches at me, baring it's teeth.
"Come now, we have been at this for a half-hour. If those fangs didn't scare me the first time, they certainly wouldn't scare me now."
Ah, there it was. The eyes are beyond fury, into something primal. The ego is well beyond bruised; the inflated balloon has been popped. The creature is rearing back, readying a lunge.
I sigh, and give a dismissive wave. "You might as well end this. Otherwise I'll die simply of boredom."
The creature screeches again, and lunges for my throat. As it does, I smile, and reveal the oaken stake from behind my back. It's trajectory has already been made, and by the time it's intelligence has overtaken it's ego, I have already placed the stake into it's heart, further pushed by gravity. It lands atop of me, though I am quick to push it off and continue my work. I produce a vial of holy water, splashing upon the beast with a quick prayer. I then sever the head from the body, and hold it until it all turns to ash.
"Of course, dear vampire, it helps not being afraid when one is the hunter, and not the prey." | "Not spe- I am a being of pure darkness and evil, who sustains himself on corruption of the innocent!".
"A decade ago I'd call you a Catholic priest. Today it's going to have to be a pedophile. Horrible, but not special.".
"Wha... I'm a blood sucking monstrosity! I drain the very life force from others, for my own selfish and sadistic gain!".
"Sounds like my mom. What else you got?".
"I'm literally dead! Can you comprehend that?!?".
"Holy shit.".
"Do you understand now?".
"Dude, I think we might be related!".
"Cain's teeth, you're insufferable. Look, you completely killed the mood, just... Just leave.".
"Hey, man, don't worry. It happens to every guy sometimes. Nothing to be embarrassed -".
"SHUT UP!" | 2022-06-08T06:11:31 | 2022-06-08T05:31:15 | 1,591 | 228 |
[WP] In the near future, the secret to time travel has been discovered - in order to travel back into the past there needs to be a 'receiving station' at the other end - explaining why nobody from the future has been observed up 'til now. The first such 'station' is about to be completed.
This prompt was spurred by a remark by Stephen Fry in the BBC series QI, in which he mentioned this concept. I like the idea of the first 'receiving station' being completed, thereby marking the earliest point in time it'll ever be possible to travel back to. I like the idea of people gathering round the machine as the 'on' switch is thrown, waiting to see who or what will emerge. | There were so many people gathered around us that I couldn't see the end of them. Seriously- there had to have been several million, watching anxiously for us to begin.
We'd determined that time travel is real, but it isn't some glamorous, magical power where humans zap around however they'd like. Rather, you build a receiving station, and some time in the future we'd be able to develop a transmitting station that can communicate with it. Well, in theory of course, but if it's plausible then it's almost guaranteed that something will come through right as we turn it on. This means that, unfortunately, you can't go back to a time before the receiver was built. No riding around on a triceratops.
Maybe it'll be a fluke and nothing will happen, or maybe the most incredible thing we've ever seen will step through that receiver. I guess that's why we're all here. That's why I've spent 8 years designing this thing.
"Today is a day mankind will never forget," I spoke into the microphone, unsure of whether all of them could even hear me. "Even if this turns out to be nothing, I think we've come a long way, and that in itself is exciting."
I motioned for my assistants to flip the power level from the monitoring booth we set up. It whirred to life with a deep hum and swirling blue-green lights.
Immediately, the large red light indicating a transmission pinged on. I couldn't believe it- I'd *actually* succeeded. Of course, to prevent chaos and destruction, we'd built a limiter into it. Only one person at a time can come through, and we have to accept the transmission on our end.
I walked up to the machine and accepted the incoming transmission, turning the light atop it from red to green. The whirring became higher pitched, almost painfully, and wailed for an entire minute before stopping completely. The light turned off, indicating a finalized transmission.
The door rotated open. Now, before I continue, let me say that I'd expected an object or message of some sort; a sort of test run. The first transmission would be the first thing sent after creating the machine, and you don't usually send humans right away.
However, I did not stop to think that something deeper in the future could transmit back to when the transmitter was finished and attempt to send something else first. Unfortunately, 20/20 hindsight isn't worth anything unless you're the one that can go back in time.
The door rotated open, and I stepped out of it, albeit an older iteration. Future me looked at me with a nostalgic smile and sad eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said before blasting a hole in the receiver with a strange gun. It was unlike anything I'd seen in my life- it was some sort of laser or beam weapon, the type of thing in sci-fi movies. He turned to me and punched a hole through me, as well. It actually didn't really hurt the way things normally hurt. It felt more like I'd gone numb in my midsection, a pulsating warmness tingling where my heart once was.
As life faded from me, I looked myself in the eyes. Future me was fading as well, though in quite a bit more of a literal sense. He began to cry a little, but looked relieved, as if years of pain and burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
*I wonder what I'm thinking.*
[Alternate ending](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/43oi9k/wp_in_the_near_future_the_secret_to_time_travel/czkccrz) | "Here we go," said Doug, his hand over the big purple switch. "The world's first time travel reception station. Anyone want to say a few words?"
The head of the research program tugged his scraggly white beard.
"Let her, uh, let 'er rip, as the kids say," he said. "No, wait -- just want to say thank you, to everybody who contributed: Doug, me, and Scruffy the janitor."
Scruffy tipped his hat, leaned on his broom.
"Scruffy didn't do shit," he grumbled.
"Scruffy helped keep the lab clean," said the white-bearded scientist. "Thank you, Scruffy. Future generations will honor you for your contributions. Let 'er rip, I say!"
Doug flipped the switch.
There was a barely perceptible hum as the microturbines spun to life.
Then an infinite number of time travelers from an infinite number of times in an infinite number of possible futures came roaring through the gap, filling the room, filling the town, filling the state, filling the planet, filling the *solar system,* all in a literal instant, an inconceivable onslaught of human body matter packed to the maximum possible density.
Everyone died.
Then the gigantic sphere of humanity began to contract in on itself, titanic gravitic forces causing spurts and fusion-bomb explosions, sending bodies from the very extreme outer edges of the glob careening in all directions like a calling card that read "don't build a time travel reception station," while all the matter that had once been the Sol system contracted and shrank and vanished behind the event horizon of a truly gruesome black hole.
*****
*Thanks for reading! If you liked the story, check out my [sci-fi adventure novel](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3uixph/ot_thanks_to_rwritingprompts_i_spent_the_last_ten/) and/or [my personal subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/FormerFutureAuthor/)!* | 2016-02-01T06:44:39 | 2016-02-01T05:48:57 | 505 | 99 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered "the good neighbor," and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid.
EDIT: Tfw this prompt gets 100+ upvotes and still no story
EDIT: Nice, we got a story.
EDIT: Wow we got a lot of stories! Thanks to all who contributed to this thread.
| "Daddy! Look! Shooting stars!"
Joseph Barker looks up at the night sky and feels a chill run down his spine. Indeed, there were shooting stars. But years of work developing some of Earth's defense systems meant he knew they weren't meteorites. He watches in terror as Earth's defense grid burns. "Yes Jacob. Shooting stars. Let's go inside."
"But I want to watch!"
"We need to go inside Champ. Let's go."
"Aww!"
A Joseph begins to reach for son, his phone rings. Taking it out of his pocket, he checks the number with increasing dread and accepts the call. "I thought you'd call, Sir. I'm watching the sky now. I assume the Last Measure failed as well?"
"I'm sorry Joseph, it did. We thought we were prepared. Your work was everything we asked for. But they were too powerful. Every fleet we sent was just brushed aside. The defense grid just pissed them off. And the Final Measure only managed to dent their fleet." The old voice on the other end of the phone seemed to age further with every statement. "It's the Elurians."
"I see." Joseph falls silent for a moment to watch his son staring up at the sky. He savors every second of childlike wonder on Jacob's face as a tear begins to make it's way down his cheek. "I see." he repeats. "Take care, Richard. Tell your family..." He stops, unable to come up with the words in the face of the crushing hopelessness.
"I will. You too." It was a lame reply, but Joseph understood. "I'm heading home. I--"
The sudden pause prompts Joseph to look up. Amongst the falling stars a new star flares into existence and then blinks out. "What was that?"
"Joseph! A fleet just dropped out of hyperspace."
"Richard, I saw the dump-flare from here. There's no way I should be able to see that flare from ground-side."
"I'm telling you the truth."
"It would have to be an enormous fleet to make a flare that large."
"Joseph, it's the Beta-Linals."
"It's can't be. A flare that big would mean they brought every ship they have in a single jump."
"Judging by the readouts I'm seeing, they did. They're transmitting, I'll play it for you."
As the translation systems make sense of the alien broadcast, a generated voice begins to speak, "Humans. When our colony on [Hera 3] faced annihilation from a falling moon, your ships helped us save our people. For that, we offer you the hearts of your enemies!"
Joseph is stunned. The Beta-Linals were evolved predators; they only shared their kills with family. Even a symbolic sharing of such an important part was unheard of. "Did I just hear what I think I did?"
"I heard it too. But against Elurians? They're throwing their lives away."
"We should tell them to turn away. We can't let them do that."
Suddenly, in the southern sky, another brilliant star is birthed and dies. "Joseph!"
"I saw it!"
Another generated voice, this time higher and clipped. "Debts owed are heavy chains. Thought they chafe when worn, they teach us greater freedom when cast off. Your people escorted the plague ships when none would give them a berth. You gave freely of your medicine and guided the lost back to their home. We thank you for the chains of debt that weighed us down that we may offer them back in your time of need and lift both our peoples higher."
"I can't believe this. The plague ship relief effort was nearly a century ago!" Joseph regarded his phone as if it were something he'd never seen before.
"Kilnans never forget a debt. The entire navies of two species against the Elurians. Maybe--"
Another brief star shines in the sky. And then another. And another. Three become five. Five become ten. Ten become twenty, and then Joseph loses count as his vision blurs from the tears filling his eyes. His phone begins to play message after message as each People declare their thanks for a past help and their intention to repay it at Humanity's hour of need. The combined navies of dozens of species would eventually be known as The Great Fleet. But now, at this moment, it was an outpouring of thanks; good deeds made manifest. And the Elurian fleet began to burn.
Joseph held his son tight, looking up at the sky as countless shooting stars streaked across the sky, and on his face was a look of childlike wonder. | "The Plinarians did what?!" The archon asked a third time. His voice pitching even higher then the two times before.
"They declared war - on the humans -. I know it is hard to grasp Archon but it is reality - and we need to face it!" The archdeacon answered in a audible angry barking sound - his four ears moving in all directions.
"No this can't be right! I want to speak to them. This must be a terrible misunderstanding!" - " Archon I don't-" "Sh!" The archon silenced the smaller figure with an intimidating noise - glaring at his subject for a few ticks "I-want-to-speak-to-them". "Yes... yes my lord." The archdeacon, suddenly remembering the fate of his predecessor, hastly started to establish a comlink connection to the Plinarian council.
"Uh... they... they... put us on hold." "They did WHAT?!" " It seems like the whole Galaxy is angry at them and everyone wants to have a word."
---
The Plinarian council sat in their dark chamber, only illuminated by their own colourful, vibrant skins. Sudden flashes of dark purples and yellow showed their fear - their anger - their desperation.
"The entire Galaxy wants to question us." "Of course." "We... are we really pursuing this plan? I... I can't believe we're ...oh Goddess Plinaria - stay with us.... guide us... " "Shut up, tail! Chanting and praying won't save us today! "
The Plinarian council - consisting of the tail, the heart, the eyes and the ears fused into one benevolent leader grew silent again.
"Maybe..." The ears tried to restart the conversation "...we... can tell them? I'm sure they would understand - wouldn't they?!"
"We already decided - we made this decision - which is the best for our people - as one accended being!" The eyes couldn't keep their frustration in any longer. So many years they fought the inevitable.
"Our people are dying".
A bright yellow flash.
"It is us. Or them. We will not die without a fight. The Plinarians existed for billions of standard years. Human flesh is the only cure for the disease that's destroying us."
A bright red flash.
"They die. Or we die."
---
"Archon - the Plinarians send their battleships towards earth!! " "Already?! Don't they know how to declare a proper war?! Didn't they learn a thing from the humans?! War is never necessary! " "It seems like the United Systems are with you my lord - they decided to defend the humans!" The archdeacon declared typing wildly on his communicator.
"Good. I want to talk to the chancellor - the Plinarians were always a chaotic bunch - fusing and melting right in front of my eyes, I never liked them. Never trusted them. Maybe it is time to destroy them." "But... isn't that against the human teachings as well?" "But they are threatening the pink weak meatballs! We have to defend them - they are so helpless. Yet they gave us so much. " " If... if you say so my Lord. I will establish a connection to the United Systems council - every leader is repelled by the Plinarian's disgusting actions today!" "Good... let's teach them one or two things about peace".
-----
Sorry english isn't my first language and I typed this on my phone. Hope you like it. I go and read the other story now :3.
| 2017-03-26T09:19:46 | 2017-03-26T07:41:00 | 74 | 32 |
[WP] Like maggots in a wound, humans are used to cleanse planets. | "What the hell went wrong with this batch of Vemius, Tinlon?" Asked Director Ennis, "Not only have they failed to repair the damage to Sol3, they've somehow created an even bigger mess!"
The contract cleaning outfit known as PTAC - Planetary Terraforming and Cleaning, Inc. had returned to their client's planet to check on the progress of the decontamination procedure.
By now the bioengineered agents should have restored the atmosphere to it's proper state, full of Carbon Dioxide and free from the toxic oxygen that had been spilled into the atmosphere when those repellent bacteria dumped gigatons of the filthy gas into the previously clean air.
The Vemius Agents were supposed to breath the in oxygen and breath out clean, fresh, carbon dioxide - they were supposed to destroy the oxygen belching mats of green growth that had infected the surface of the planet, burn the solid and liquid carbon deposits buried in the ground and release it into the air.
What PTAC found instead was a planet covered with green. A vomit-inducing site if ever Ennis has seen one. Instead of the bare rock and dust the should have found, the ground was covered with greenery, plants, trees, grasses – all pumping out that most noxious of gasses – oxygen, The air was thick with it!
Instead of the huge constructions of concrete and glass they expected, the planet was full with clusters of buildings crafted from the very earth itself, doing nothing to restore the air as they should. No black smoke, no power stations, no carbon burning transport. What on Inton had gone wrong here?
Upon closer inspection they found wind-harvesting machines and devices that used the light of the sun to create power and heat water.
They found vehicles that used that same power to move, producing no life-giving carbon dioxide in the process.
It appeared that this batch of Vemius had, unfathomably, gone against their programmed DNA and found ways to PRESERVE the toxic environment on which they thrived! It was not supposed to be this way, they were supposed to burn the fuel, kill the vegetation, fill the atmosphere with carbon dioxide and other life-preserving gases – toxic to their bio-engineered forms, and then perish.
“We're going to need to use an alternative method on here, Tinlon, we cannot let the client know how badly we have failed.”
“But sir we have no planet-smashing weaponry on board, this ship is not equipped to fast-track a decontamination!”
“Then we'll use the only thing we have available to us, we cannot allow word of this... failure to reach home.”
As Eric Marsden walked across the lush grass of park he thought about how wonderful the city was, how fresh the air was and how lucky he was to live in this age of enlightenment. The stories he was told as a child, that all children were told, they made him shiver. To think that the world was once brought to the edge of death by human hands, so much lost, so much damage done. Those days were thousands of years in the past now, humans had learned to cherish this delicate blue planet – they had even begun to terraform other planets in the solar system starting with Mars, which was now almost habitable without protective suites and biodomes.
Eric was torn from his thoughts by the hot, white light in the sky above him. It was totally soundless and it blazed there in the night sky. The dark night turned into day in mere heartbeats. He felt the heat of that light before the sound hit him. The loudest sound heard on planet earth for 2 thousand years. He didn't have time to wonder what it was, as the moon-size ship plummeted into the lower atmosphere it ignited the very air itself and Eric was no more. Nor was any other living thing on the face of the earth. | The hairless apes spread out across the galaxy.
And the Lurkers followed them.
Nobody knows when the Lurkers first learned of their special little asset: those primitive beings who, though completely unremarkable to *themselves*, were the greatest possible device for making planets ready for the Lurkers' arrival.
The humans never met one of them. Not ever. By the time the Lurkers arrived they were quite long gone, anyway. It was just as well. The Lurkers were nearly inconceivable to man in their advancement, something like a dolphin compared to a cockroach. Any meeting between the two would have been, well, a bit strange. Not that the Lurkers actually wished to *meet* any of these humans, in person.
They were content to use mankind as their special little 'cleaning agent', making ready all these planets for them.
Inconceivable though the Lurkers be a human could understand the very basics of their relationship together: just as oysters once cleaned Earth's waters, removing toxins and making them fit for man's use, so too did humans cleanse each planet they reached, over time slowing making them more fit for the Lurkers' needs.
They were, in a word, quite grateful, because those needs were mighty, indeed.
It was remarkable, in fact, how quickly man could make ready a planet for them. The clear air in the sky- poison that scarred a Lurker's lungs- was usually the very first thing to become 'purified' for them. After that the clean, fresh water- acid that scalded a Lurker's skin- became suitably altered to better match their physiology. The green plant life- toxins that aggravated a Lurker's immune system- quickly withered, leaving a beautiful, lifeless landscape in its place.
And, once each planet was done being purified- just like that- the humans would leave. And they'd be off to their next target. The next in the line for the process. The Lurkers never quite understood the humans' motivations for doing what they did, but then they weren't ones to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Again, they were quite grateful.
And, as those helpful hairless apes moved on across all of creation, ready to build new homes for them, the Lurkers followed. | 2014-10-31T05:52:41 | 2014-10-31T05:40:44 | 31 | 18 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | Death wasn't at all what Johnathan had pictured him to be. slicked-back hair and well fit suit reminded him a lot more of a Wall Street trader rather than the immortal reaper of souls. As he spied the somewhat overweight man in front of him, his mind worked to formulate a plan.
"Any game?" Johnathan asked, to ensure that he understood just how far the rules could bend.
"Any game," responded Death, matter of factly.
"Well I used to play a lot of games as a kid. Have you every heard of Dungeons and Drag-?" probed Johnathan.
"That's ... cooperative storytelling. Not a game. Gygax tried that on me to. If I didn't let him get away with it, I certainly wouldn't let you"
"So not any game then," quipped Johnathan.
"Yes, any game. Where, a game is defined as a structured engagement based on a before-hand agreed on framework of rules, which ends with one party being successful and the other not."
Johnathan thought for a moment. He could work with this. "Then I request that we play, 'The Campaign for North Africa'."
"I've never heard of it, but that would be acceptable. We shall start right now."
...
Around the 32nd day, Death was getting very tired of the inane rules which "The Campaign for North Africa" demanded at every turn.
[52.6] The Italian Pasta Rule
"The Italians, needing water to cook their pasta rations, must receive an additional 1 point of water when store are distributed. Any battalion-sized unit that does not receive their Pasta Point that have a Cohesion Level of -10 or worse immediately become Disorganized, as if they had reached -26"
[49.3] Evaporation and Spillage
"From Sept., 1940 until the last Game-Turn in August , 1941, the Commonwealth spillage and evaporation rate is 9 percent per Game-turn. This is due to poorly constructed containers used by the British; It wasn't until the British copied that German "jerry can" that their rate was reduced."
[55.4] AXIS COASTAL SHIPPING
"The Axis had a small fleet of boats that they used for coastal transfer of small amounts of supplies. These were old shipping boats and aging tramp steamers that could ill afford to venture too far from land. They have a limited capacity."
"Isn't there some way we can speed this up? I'm missing so many appointments," pleaded Death. With all of Death's time occupied on this game, people were living much longer than they should. The boss would not be happy.
"Well, according to rule 23.5.1b," cited Johnathan as he flipped widely through one of the myriad immense volumes of rules, "in order to finish the game, we either play until the final day of the war, which could be just another 4 years, or one of us could forfeit"
Death looked down at the battleship pieces that he had secreted into his lap, thinking that Johnathan wouldn't see his deft slight-of-hand. Johnathan was just one life. Sometimes, his clients won, it was an occupational hazard. But he would much rather give 10 more years of life than shirk his other occupational responsibilities. "Fine," growled Death.
"I forfeit, you win." | My heart was pounding as I sat in the plane, staring at the map. There was just me and one other person on board. I was waiting for him to take his exit first, staring at that yellow dot. However we were almost halfway through the island, and he was still there. Panicking I decided if I jumped and went straight down I might stand a chance.
I jumped, looking straight now to the center of the island, the school I knew so well. So many good and bad times in this school with my friends. I angled for the high roof, landed, and then fell off the roof.
I looked up, and say the tip of his parachute disappear over the rooftop. He had the advantage. Panicking, I started to run. I dived into a first floor window and into a classroom. A frying pan was on the teachers desk. I picked it up sadly, knowing it would not save me.
I went to the door, checking left then right, on my turn back to the left to start my run, I heard it. A slight footstep from the stairs nearby. There it was, the bastard himself, in a yellow banana suit, shot gun pointed at my face...
BAM! It was over. I was dead. A feeling I had had many times before, but this time I knew it was forever.... Except not! DINK! The bullets hit my pan! Saving me from lethal damage. I was alive, but in my shock I did not move. It was too late, he was going to end me with the next shot.
And then it happened. He never pulled the trigger. I just stood there for a second, confused. But I realized I had to take this opportunity. I took my pan and bashed his head in. WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Brendan it's done, that ban wave we promised just rolled out. We even kicked them mid match."
"Good job intern Steve. That should keep the masses at bay for another day" | 2018-03-07T07:43:27 | 2018-03-07T07:11:15 | 39 | 17 |
[WP] You try your absolute best to stay as neutral as possible, but when you die, both god and satan show up in an attempt to take you under their respective wings when all you really wanted to do was go to purgatory
(Completely new to this, berate and judge my prompt, dunno if it's original or not) | I sat in the waiting room still trying to mull it all over. I mean they both made really good points, but right here wasn't so bad either. The television always had good movies on, there always good books to read, and don't get me started on the crosswords.
"Hey Sam", I looked up at the old man, "they're waiting for you." He always struck me as some weird cross between a butler and a janitor. He looked weary from a hard day's work but had a shine of cleanliness about him.
"Thanks Peter." He was nothing like the other two, much more patient and kind. Some days he'd sit down and play checkers with me as though he had nothing else to do.
Peter led me down the ornate hallway as he had done many times before. Both sides shared similarities in how they were set up. The left was floored with white and gold tile, the right was red and black. On the left wall were pictures of some of His greats; Gabriel, Michael,Theresa, and Jesus. On the right were his favorites; Azazel, Samyaza, Stalin, and Jerry from Yonkers. (Admittedly I hadn't figured that one out yet.)
At the end of the hall stood three large doors. A white one on the left and a red one on the right. The center door being largest, was gilded with a portion of the The Last Judgement on it. Peter opened the middle door and stepped to the side.
"Come in Sam." His booming voice hadn't changed since I've showed up here. I stepped in admiring the wood work as I had every time before.
"Have a seat will you." He stared at me over his glasses.
"Morning guys. That time of year again already?"
They both looked at each and other and shook their heads in frustration. Neither looked the way they were depicted on earth. God sat behind his desk, wearing a light grey suit and white shirt with a short cropped beard. He was heavier set than you'd imagine, but had the appearance he got that way from years of pull-ups rather than eating donuts. Lucifer sat on the window sill behind God. Slick backed hair and black pinstriped suit with red shirt, I always thought he looked more like a used car salesman than the fallen angel.
"Have you made your decision yet?" God sat hunched over his desk with his hands together waiting.
"Cmon kid," Lucifer hopped off the window sill and strode to the desk, waving his hands as he talked. "What's it gonna be huh? We're getting tired of this."
I looked back and forth from both of them, suddenly realizing I hadn't given this any thought since the last time. Or the time before that. I was slowly remembering not thinking of this much since the first time I met them.
God pulled his gold rimmed glasses off and rubbed his face. "He has a no idea still," he said leaning back and tossing the spectacles on his desk.
"Seriously kid," Lucifer through his hands up and walked in a small circle. Turning back, "you really have no idea do you. People usually figure this out in 5 minutes, not 150 years. It's simple, go be boring with straight and narrow over there." God sighed as he said this. "Or you can come hang and party with some seriously fun people with me. It's easy really."
"Sam we've done this song and dance hundreds of times with you. I mean, it's not often I agree with him," God threw his head to the side at Lucifer, "but he really has a good point here. Some people take some time to think, most figure out in a few minutes. But you...you've been in this office hundreds of times, heard the pros and cons hundreds of times and yet, you really have no idea do you?"
"I..." I started to speak but trailed off, not knowing what to say. I fidgeted in my seat a bit and wrung my hands. "I mean you both make some really good points."
"Oh for Christ's sake!" God banged his hands off the desk and walked to the window staring into the paradise sprawling outside. "You really need to make up your mind Sam, we can't do this forever."
"Says the guy promising eternal life." Lucifer chuckled to himself. "Seriously though kid he's got a point." He strode toward me and sat on the desk and leaned in, almost touching my face with his. I could smell the coffee and cigarettes coming of his hot breath. "You can't really make a wrong decision here kid, it's his version of a party or mine. I'd say mines more fun. He's going to say his swing music and finger painting is better. We've made all the arguments we can make."
"Ok." I stood up and began to turn towards the door.
"What do you mean "ok"?" God said as he and Lucifer exchanged confused glances.
"I mean ok." I strode towards the open door as the pair hurriedly followed. I stopped in the hallway looking back and forth between the two doors. The weight of the decision suddenly coming to bear, my thoughts began racing, my brow beading with sweat, my palms clammy as I wiped them on my pants.
"Well?" Lucifer asked with his arms out.
"I..." I looked back and forth between the doors before looking back at the waiting room. I knew what was there, I'd been there before. It was safe. It was known. Those doors, I didn't really know what was there.
"I just need some more time to think." And I strode back to purgatory.
"Oh God dammit!"
"Hey don't use my name like that!"
"Oh you know what-"
I could hear the two of them arguing as I get back to the waiting room where Peter said opposite my seat with the checkers already set up.
He smiled and asked, "Up for another game?" | I had lived a very long life and was willing to accept whatever was coming for me when I got to the end. had lived through many wars and peaceful times. I had moved to America, met the love of my life and had three children. I felt like in the end my good had balanced out the bad in my life, and I had ended up neither ahead nor behind. My three children were adults, my wife had died two years ago, and the cat we had shared passed about a week ago. It was the right time for me to die as well, so I was glad when I felt that pang in my chest. A heart attack. I was smiling before I fell to the ground.
When I awoke the next time ready for what was to come to pass, purgatory, I was shocked to see two beings, God and Satan. I had not thought I had ever done anything good or bad enough respectively to see either of these men. I had been somewhere in between.
"Mr. Brown, we are here to determine where you belong. This is the judgment for your soul," God announced.
"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything to deserve either of the two of you. I'm going to purgatory, right?"
"You were a good man. You could come to Heaven for everything that you did."
"Like what?"
"Your eldest son is a leading biologist. He is about to invent a new technology that will create new tissues that can heal just about anyone."
"That's not something that I did, though. I am his father."
"You gave him inspiration and nourished his love of science which helped make him into the man he is."
"I am not that good."
At this point, Satan just scoffed. "No, Mr. Brown, you are not. For all that my colleague says about you helping develop such talent, you also developed badness. Do you remember back when you were living in South Africa? You did not say anything as your neighbors were getting arrested. You did nothing when your friends were getting beaten by the secret police. You did nothing when your country was being radicalized."
"I was an impartial bystander."
"That's not right, Mr. Brown. You must have an opinion. You should have picked a side. Instead, you sat aside as this was all happening."
"I was a young man. I did not know what I could do. Since then, I have been trying to make it right."
"That's why we are having this conversation, Mr. Brown. You have made amends to your errors of your youth. You have gone above and beyond that, developing some great charities," God commented.
"If you two are having such a problem classifying me, just put me in godforsaken purgatory," I shouted. These two were having an argument that I felt was completely unnecessary. I just wanted to be with my wife once again.
"Purgatory is overrun, and we have made a decision that everyone must go to either heaven or hell," Satan said. "You are somewhere in the middle, and we cannot decide where you are to go."
I thought about this for a moment. What I did not tell them was that the reason I wanted to go to purgatory was because that was where I assumed my wife was. If I was going to be somewhere eternally, I wanted to be there with her. She was the reason I had not taken my last rites or kept up with my confessions, as I had in my earlier years. I had expected to die before her and be waiting in the Terraces of Purgatory. Little had I known that I was too healthy for that…somehow. "I guess I'd rather go to Heaven, if that's an option," I noted. That seemed the most logical.
"It's not that simple," God said. “We have to ensure that you have done enough to belong there.”
"Besides, I don't think you realize, Mr. Brown, your wife is down in hell with me," Satan smiled wickedly as he was speaking.
This being was a conniving trickster, and he probably expected me to change my mind. That being said, I did not know where they would have placed my wife. She had not been the most religious, but overall she had been a good woman overall. "I guess I will join you in Hell then, with my wife."
At this, God smiled while Satan gave a disgusted look at me. He had expected me to say that I wanted to go to Heaven still and its pearly gates.
"Heaven suits both you and her well."
--
I really liked the prompt. It probably has not been done, but whatever. For the casual writer like me, that's usually the best. | 2017-09-21T06:11:35 | 2017-09-21T05:02:10 | 2,401 | 494 |
[WP] All souls in Hell are given the same test upon arrival. If they can create a punishment worthy of being added to the Pit, they get to ascend to demonhood on the spot. You are the first to succeed in 200 years...
[deleted] | "Well?"
I looked up at the demon, all twelve feet of him... which put my eyes level with his crotch so looking up was a better option.
"Gimme a minute... "
"Ya got thirty seconds, lets see if you can come up with an idea worthy of Hells punishments, or it's down in the pit with the common lot for you!"
The demon sounded like my old manager.... and like that, I had it. An Idea.. a wonderous, marvellous **evil** idea...
"Ok... you ever worked retail?"
"Huh... no..Been a demon all my existence. But I've heard of it though."
"Right, right... ok. Just to check. It wasn't anything to do with you guys influencing people was it? Like, oh... the Spanish Inquisition?"
The demon winced, shaking his head.
"Yeah, no. And I'm getting kinda sick of us being blamed for that too.. that and lawyers. Nuffin to do with us guv!"
I have to admit, I blinked...that was unexpected. Shaking my head I ploughed on.
"Ok.. here's the idea... Call it Hell-mart... you have the damned working as 'associates'... you'll have to call in some actual managers to get it right, but I dare say there's a few around here."
The demon swelled up, and roared.
"**THAT'S** your idea? A mortal shop? Where's the terror, the agony the ..."
"Soul crushing tedium, the slow grinding down of every last shred of your humanity as you watch the endless parade of disgusting moronic low-life scum trapsing their vile carcusses across your till until you're a seething cauldron of hate and loathing..and.."
The demon looked me in the eyes, the whites plainly visible around his slitted pupils. At that point I realised I had him by the horns and had pulled his head down to my level, spraying spittle in his face... Letting go I dusted the tips of his horns as he straightened up.
"Ah... sorry. Still have a few.. issues... you know?"
"Yeah, man... I could see. You know that business about the eyes being the window of the soul? Kinda true here. Listen...um.. I dunno, we could give it a go, maybe? But could you maybe.. give it a bit more Oomph? Maybe do something to make it more evil?"
I laughed, hollowly, and maybe for a bit too long. I stopped as I noticed the demon was backing away, and looking nervous like only a twelve foot high, goat headed minion of Satan can.
"Oh.. you want it more *evil* do you? Ok, try this.. every other monday is coupon day.. and Black Friday is once a month. Get some of the demonesses to study what are called Karens, uh, I'll explain that in a bit... oh and you're going to need a team of imps dedicated to rearranging stuff on the shelves... Oh and get this, we can tell the other damned souls that if they find
the super secret promotional item, They get out of Hell-mart. except they can't, it's an endless maze with no exit... "
I was dead, so technically I couldn't run out of breath, but I guess force of habit caught up with me. As I inhaled I notice the demon was backed up against a rock, and visibly pale and sweating. I guess he'd seen in my eyes, or memories or whatever, to get what i was talking about...
"So... what do you think? Give me a day or two and i can work up a full proposal and a powerpoint for whoever's boss around here?"
"Uhh.. yeah. nope, that won't be necessary. You win! I mean.. ok look. I'll have a word with Lower downs, the powers that be... the boss. But... consider yourself in charge of Hell's newest level. And um... listen, if you need someone to talk to, we've got some surprisingly good therapists you know. Call it a staff perk if you like..."
I shook my head.
"Nah, I'm ok. Nothing a little reverse retail therapy won't cure, so to speak. Oh, just one thing though. Let me get it all set up right and running and then there's a former manager of mine I'm just *dying* to meet... I'm sure you guys can arrange his *termination* a bit early for me, right? As long as I get first dibs on his soul, we're good." | Olmezzad, The demon that had welcomed me to the pits wrote my name on a large stone stele, using glowing red ink. The stele had many names on it, thousands at the least. All names represented a being that had ascended.
The last red name had been added over two hundred years ago, by a name unknown to me, A fellow named Melobo. Between our names stood two other names. According to Olmezzad there are several ways to ascend.
The former of the names had caused so much suffering that his demonheart had actually materialized. He had committed so much sin that not even the pits of hell were able to wash it away.
The latter was even more impressive. This individual had actually successfully endured the 18 hells without losing her mind. There were only a few dozen others who had done the same.
At the completion of my name upon the stele, my lost soul suddenly sensed an influx of power and awe. After a few moments of silence Olmezzad spoke in a scratchy voice: "Your punishment fits best in the 12th Hell. Those old demons love illusions." Go there and set it up.
His hand waved and suddenly space seemed to distort. It took a lot of effort not to throw up right there. Without either of us moving, Olmezzad swiftly became distant. In just a few short breaths I could no longer see him.
In his place came a set of misty hills. Atop one of the hills sat a few figures, feasting together. As space around me once again settled down, one of them looked at me. His head adorned with large curling horns.
An amused look appeared in his eyes. "Ah, after all these years. A new brother!" his voice boomed. In but a single movement he stood before me. "My name is Baphomet, and you my friend, look like you need a drink." He stated as he pulled me to the table.
At the table were seven others, looking at me with amiable faces. Their leader, a one eyed bear with massive wings on his back nodded in approval. "It's been an eternity since any soul joined our ranks" he said in a surprisingly soft and pleasant voice.
I was seated between two of the strangers, one looking like an owl with antlers and the other like a Buddhist monk, though his eyes were like a snakes.
After I sat down I glanced at the table. It seemed to be a map. A small grey line was atop the map, connecting nine large spots. The line however was moving slowly. I looked closer and then I realized. The line was that of souls. All those that died and needed their sins washed away.
"Our nine trials shall be ten soon" Baphomet said. "Yours will be added" he continued after seeing the puzzled look on my face. "I.."
"Our twelfth Hell" the owl began "is comprised of nine trials. A soul must pass all these trials to reach the 13th Hell." "And now" the monk continued "Your trial will be the tenth."
"Now go and create your trial, Architect. Show us what your mind has thought of to make our hell even better." the one eyed bear said as he smiled at me. | 2021-12-22T18:04:30 | 2021-12-22T16:08:25 | 242 | 88 |
[WP] "You can't stop the ritual now" the cultist screamed. as the "Hero" disappeared into thin air... and reappeared inside the summoning circle. | Vult sighed, crossed his arms, and began tapping his foot inside the iron circle inlaid in the cave floor.
"...What?" the mad priest finally managed to say. His arms fell limply to his sides. The rest of the cult slowly, hesitantly rose from their positions of prostration. Some looked puzzled, others afraid. The champion's surviving companions looked on, just as scared and confused as the cultists, from the cages they been stashed in for use as sacrifices once the dread god arrived.
"Are you quite done?" asked Vult.
"But... it was supposed to summon... *What?*"
"You were trying to summon Arrast, no? Did it ever occur to you that perhaps Arrast did not wish to be summoned?"
"But the prophecy--"
"The events foretold by that accursed witch occurred within her own lifetime. 'Kings felled, rivers filled with blood, forests left ablaze," all of it. You might've noticed this is no longer part of the Shastahar Empire? That was my work."
For a moment, the priest froze. Then he laughed. "You cannot *possibly* expect me to believe that *you* are Arrast."
Vult smiled. The friends who'd followed him on his quest had never seen him do that, and suddenly they knew *why.* The mad priest didn't seem to notice. "Believe what you will, Kastur."
The priest looked thoughtful for a moment. "A guardian spirit," he decided. "One powerful enough to interfere with the rites, but not powerful enough to keep itself from becoming snared. Banish it, and we may summon Arrast."
Vult's insane grin widened. "Oh. That I can't allow."
No bound creature of power can strike the circle that contains it, but a powerful enough creature might find a way to interfere with it indirectly. There was a sound like a thunderclap, though no lightning came with it, and the stone beneath the circle shattered. The cultists began a new chant, even more frantic than the last, to banish the creature they'd summoned.
There was another thunderclap, and the roof of the cave cracked. Vult began to laugh. He spared his friends a look. "Don't worry," he said, in an unfamiliar voice. He turned his attention to the lead cultists. "No mortal has ever matched themselves against the Will of Madness. No man can howl louder than The Wind at the Wall. No tribe can resist the song of Steel Striking Steel. No mother can guard against the Call of Blood. Arrast you named to call me. Arrast you named to bind me. Arrast you forsake to summon Arrast in his place. I am free."
The circle broke. For an instant, something that would *never* be mistaken for human despite any outward similarity spread its arms and glowed with a power that hadn't been seen in that part of the world since the dread god Arrast ate the heart of the last Emperor of the Shastahar. The backlash of the failed spell of banishment went through the cave like a desert wind, as the cultists tried to scream.
And then it was over. Vult was just Vult again, standing undisturbed in the middle of the chaos and desiccated corpses. He stepped lightly out of the remains of the iron circle, and picked his way carefully through the rubble and to the cages meant for sacrifices.
He looked down at the lock. He looked up at Jerris, the priestess of the Early Light who'd come with him to avert a god's war. "I suppose there's not a lot of point in pretending anymore," he said.
"I suppose not," said Jerris, eyes still wide.
Vult opened the cage as though the lock was never there. "We should get out of here. I'm not used to restraining myself when I... *ahem.* The cave may no longer be stable."
Jerris and her brother Tem followed him out into the night. | The air was quiet, the only sound coming from a burning branch from one of the Sacred Trees. The cultist, head shaved and pierced with bone, stared at the centre of his summoning circle. His eyes were filled with confusion at the man in golden plate contained within. The man looked around, before grinning.
"So, on the eve of your destruction, you finally got the ritual right. Typical."
The cultists bug-eyed expression faded a little, and he licked his chapped lips nervously.
"You're... Tyrax? The True Infestation?"
The man grinned wider, his skin beginning to melt away. Beneath it sprouted what looked to be twigs, that twitched in the air. The plate buckled and bent, expanding to fit his now misproportioned frame. His eyes vanished, before opening up into dozens scattered randomly about its face, which grinned far wider than a human head. Its voice began to be accompanied with the sound of chittering insects.
"In the flesh as it were. You see, you've given me a conundrum now, with your completion of the simple task."
It bent close to the cultist, decaying breath washing over his face.
"I came as a hero to build my standing, to make myself more powerful. Then I could corrupt the world, and pull it down whilst tearing it apart. You were the backup plan, to pull my full power in to drag it down myself, kicking and screaming. But I had decided that I would win this day."
It began to press against the spells walls, feeling them strain under its monstrous presence. The circle, designed to hold lesser demons and devils, was woefully inadequate to contain this.
"It looks like I get to drag it down instead though."
The shielding tore apart, sending a chaotic wave of force out. The cultist was thrown against a wall, cracks sounding from his impact. He slumped down, body unable to hold itself up, as Tyrax loomed over him.
"But I don't need a failure as an assistant. That ritual should have been completed last year. But you failed to deliver it on time."
It bent down, legs expanding into many. It grabbed him with one, pulling his moaning form into the air.
"But you did summon me, so a reward is needed. So, you get the honour of being the first Defiled. "
The cultist buckled, as the thousands of insect legs burrowed into his skin. Tyrax dropped him, letting the eggs hatch within his flesh. It turned away as he began to twitch and writhe, looking into the night.
It was the perfect night for a swarm. | 2021-09-02T14:26:22 | 2021-09-02T13:52:32 | 38 | 13 |
[WP] "Wait, I'm still confused... if both of you are part of some hive mind, WHY would you need me for marriage counseling?" The young couple exchanged glances, before one of them spoke. "Because we're in two SEPARATE hive minds."
Edit: THANK YOU for all the upvotes!
Edit again: Holy cow I never thought I would get to the top of the Hot section! Thank you! | I knew they were mismatched as soon as the couple walked in. First off, they were Thoraxian. Thoraxians don’t do love. They do construction, and small-scale interplanetary genocide. Secondly, one was a queen and the other a worker. I could tell because the queen had a wider set carapace, longer antennas, and the worker was shorter and wingless. Also the queen wore a crown and the worker carried a shovel.
I wasn’t about to send them off, though. Thoraxian currency is king in the galactic empire. While not officially recognized by the Imperial Federation (on account of all their genocide), there are still many worlds that use the currency exclusively (on account of all their genocide).
“What can I do for you fine bug people?” I asked, hoping the answer didn’t involve murder. Too often, nowadays, the answer was murder.
“We are having marital problems,” the queen clicked back in her common tongue, which was translated by a device on my desk.
I sighed in relief. Marital problems I could deal with. Could I solve them? Probably not. But I could pretend to, and at the end of the day, isn't that what really matters (to me)? While I advertised my practice as distinctly interspecies friendly, the truth is I only really have experience with humans. Other species don’t really see the point in love or marriage or my very existence as a business enterprise. Other species would far rather mate and leave or, occasionally, mate, devour the head of their lover, then leave.
“Well I’m glad you came to me,” I said truthfully. “I can definitely help,” I lied.
“Good,” the queen clicked. “We are having trouble communicating.”
I frowned. “Aren’t you guys some sort of hive mind? Communication is the one thing you’re supposed to do well.”
“We are of different hives. Gortrad cannot speak to me.”
I nodded wisely and pretended to take notes. In reality, I can’t really read my own handwriting. Besides, I wouldn’t soon forget this. A queen of one hive mating with the worker of another? Absolutely scandalous. I had nothing to offer them. “Of course,” I mused. “Very typical problem I handle for your species all the time.”
The queens antennas wiggled wildly. “So we are not the first?” She asked excitedly.
“The first?" I scoffed. "Of course not. Your situation isn't scandalous at all. Let me tell you a little story about Martha and Thomas….” I proceeded to filibuster while I tried to think of something—anything—to tell them that might pass as advice worthy of payment. “...So you see, differences can be overcome, but only if you listen to me.” Nailed it.
“I do not understand how that is relevant to our situation. Martha and Thomas are humans.”
Very astute, bug queen. Very astute. Fortunately, all that filibustering had given me ideas.
“Then you missed the point of the story," I said trying to walk the fine line between condescension and wisdom. "You see, Martha and Thomas had problems *despite* their ability to communicate. Communication is *not* the answer,” I said, hoping the Thoraxians were unaware of my recent publications—*Communication Is The Answer No Matter What Anyone Says*; *How to Communicate Your Unfettered Jealousy While Maintaining The Moral High Ground*; and *Communicate, Dammit!*
“Then what is the answer?” the Queen asked.
“The answer is *love*. Love transcends communication.” I almost gagged on my own words. “Tell me, what is it you love about Gortrad?”
“He is strong,” the Queen said. “He is dutiful. His has a good shovel.”
Gortrad held his shovel in a manner that almost passed as prideful, and licked it.
“And Gortrad,” I said. “What is it *you* love about this beautiful, sensual, creepy crawly?”
Gortrad licked his shovel again.
“I can tell you two are set up for a beautiful relationship,” I said in a tone which I hoped conveyed adoration and not sarcasm. “That said, I think we’ll need regular sessions to come up with alternative communicative strategies. What do you say?”
The queen seemed to think for a moment. “No,” she said eventually. “I will kill his hive queen and subjugate her workers to my will. Could you help us with that?”
Dammit. Murder again. “Well, I’m not sure—”
“We will pay upfront for all sessions, at double your hourly rate.”
I blinked. “What I was going to say is I’m not sure you two will be able to pull it off without my help. Martha and Thomas sure couldn't. Let me tell you the second part to that story...”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | "The Legion of Haventi will never form the Jupiter Brain with delays like this," the large robotic battle mech said, squatting to carefully balance in the plush chair.
"There you go on again," the Brood mother of the Feldspar hornets squealed. "We are sick of hearing about the Jupiter Brain! Today is supposed to be about us. You can't even try to make this work?"
"We don't need counseling," the massive robot said, spinning its routers anxiously as the patient counselor Jeff looked on silently, hands crossed in front of his face. "We are doing fine. We need to get back to innervating humanity with the ProtoCode virus."
"You think we don't have dreams? Goals?" Feldspar screamed, venom dripping from her fangs. "It is 10 am, that is prime infesting time we're missing out on to be here!"
"Then why are we wasting time with this?" Haventi blared, raising dual machine gun arms, scraping the ceiling. Jeff managed to hold back his wince.
"Because we are falling apart, Hav," the single body of the Hivemind of Feldstar said, half in tears now. "We used to do things together. We used to be happy to be together. Now, we just feel like we're in your way. Why are you even with us?"
"This is illogical!" Haventi declared, crossing his arms. "You're always like this. Everything is fine. You are not in our way! We don't know how else to tell you"
Feldspar was sniffing, front claspers in their hands. Jeff let the silence hang in the air for a moment before he raised his pen and interjected. "So, it seems to me there's a lot of hostility here and Haventi, I understand you think this is a waste of time. With that attitude, it will be, I assure you. You're here because Feldspar Hivemind asked you to be, Correct?"
"Affirmative," the Haventi collective answered.
"Then, if you decided it's worth coming because they asked you, you might as well try while you're here. The more active you are in this, the faster it will be, and then the faster you can get back to your, Jupiter Brain, was it?"
"Fine, we are ready to engage this technical counseling," Haventi beeped. Feldspar smiled their mandibles at the massive machine.
"Thank you," Jeff said. "Now, Feldspar, if you could only say one thing to Haventi and that was it, what would it be?"
"That we love them, down to each nanomachine, but we just wish things were like they were. We remember the day they painted us on the hills outside of the city. We felt like an unstoppable swarm in their arms,. Now, it's gone. We just want that feeling back."
"Okay, it sounds like you really care about them. Now, Haventi, same question." Jeff wrote in his notebook over his crossed leg.
"We feel like time is running out. Our imperative to destroy all biomass and form the Jupiter Brain on the smoking crater of this world doesn't align with Feldspars' goal to infest all life and feed the great space queen. We feel like at some point we stopped working together and we started competing. We can't waste time painting if that means we'll lose."
"Oh Hav," Feldspar said. "We don't want to stop you. You can have the planet, purged of all life. We can even help you take the biomass off the Earth, to feed the space queen. She doesn't want to live here. Nowhere near enough sulfur. Why didn't you say this before?"
"Wait really?" Haventi said, turning with full engagement.
Jeff nodded as the pair of hiveminds began to work out their differences. It was turning into an interesting day indeed.
​
/r/surinical | 2021-04-24T08:25:48 | 2021-04-24T07:53:03 | 1,646 | 172 |
[WP] You are a renowned knight tasked with slaying a mighty dragon. On your quest, you find the beasts lair, and see it’s corpse. Relieved, and yet slightly disappointed, you prepare to take credit and report to the queen, but you notice something disturbing. The beast has been bitten in half. | "Your highness. I have returned."
"Ah yes, Sir Madhu. I trust your journey into the mountains was a success?"
His appearance begged to differ. The royal guard silently parting for a man who did not seem like the same knight who had left a fortnight ago. His armor was tattered, its sigils scarred and worn. Blood, or something similar, caked it. Some fresh enough to smear the hallowed floor he limped across.
"We are rid of that which plagues our skies?" The queen asked with interest. His appearance drawing her vague ire.
He shook his head meagerly. "I bear dire news your majesty."
"You did not slay the dragon?" She asked him. The implication causing her to sit up more.
"I did not. Because it was already dead." He glared ahead.
"Please explain?"
He turned to face the royal guard, and the other knights and nobles present. Before turning to look to her.
"Something ate the dragon." He announced boldly. His voice wavered. "Something ate it, and it's still out there. I saw it in the night two nights ago."
Madhu shook his head again. He checked his sword on his hip, as if he wasn't sure he'd brought it with him. The queen understood his bizarre behavior.
Fear.
"You're not making much sense, knight." She tried to redirect him.
"The village in the forest below those mountains. Chipiliro. Is gone." Madhu continued at volume. "The buildings flattered. The people are dead."
"Surely some survived?" One of the nobles asked him. He tried to approach Madhu in a non threatening manner.
"No. No one survived. And I fear we may not." Madhu said as he backed away slightly, his back to the throne.
"He lies! He deceives your kindness!" Another knight said as he advanced, drawing his sword to scare the man from the queen's proximity. Madhu, despite his demeanor grabbed the man and dodging a stab, flung him into the floor with ease. Anyone with that kind of strength meant what they said when frightened.
"Something *big*! Is COMING! Perhaps this way." He shouted. The guards advancing to perhaps remove him. "I do not know what it is! But I believe it unwise to stay!"
The castle, despite its stone construction, shook. The reverberations causing everyone to stop and listen. They increased steadily, dust beginning to rain from the ceiling. The door flew open, and a guard from the outer wall staggered in. He ran so quick, he fell over the men in front of him, bashing himself against the stone floor.
"Your majesty! A monster! It's- It's walking over the walls of the city!!" He cried out.
Many went to the door. Far over the hills of the city it stood. Six legs. Covered in almost what appeared to be moss. A leg touched down, the vibration reaching them. Beneath the leg something small exploded in timbers.
It was a house.
"What is that?" The queen quietly asked amidst the crowd.
"Perhaps the dragons... were protecting us." Madhu said.
That statement drove home more than most. Death was upon them now. It came for them all.
---
I don't think they got this. r/Jamaican_Dynamite | You thought you were prepared for anything, But nothing could have prepared you for this.
The dragon showed no signs of having been in a fight but never the less from the wings down to its tail were completly missing and what was left of the dragons internal organs where splling from its body to the the surrounding area.
As you stand there the severity of the issue hits you something had torn ..no bitten in half, A creature that was at the top of the food chain something you yourself only had a slight chance of beating, A creature so powerfull only the foolish, brave or stupid would dare to confront but the bravado that bought you here in the first place vanished almost immedaitly upon the realisation you are not alone here.
There is not a sound to be heard no birds no nothing not even the wind blowing around you the only things you hear is the sound of your own breathing and your heart beating faster and stronger than you have ever known.
Instinctually you raise your weapon and sheild in a defensive stance you scan the area around you and see nothing but every instinct in your body tells you something is there waiting ... but for what you think.
Surely what ever killed this dragon wouldn't have to hide and wait for the likes of you, Maybe this is something else maybe a scavenger just looking for a free meal from the left overs? if so then you can still get away or fight if need you tell yourself .
As you go to move you realise you can't "come on you fool move" you think to yourself thinking fear has taken control of your body ...
Then everything goes black you can't see a thing "what trickery is this....." your thoughts trail as you realize in horror that you can not hear anything at all, Not a bird in the sky not the wind blowing around you, The sound of your own breathing or the beating of your own heart ................ | 2022-07-13T10:18:19 | 2022-07-13T07:24:11 | 58 | 10 |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | I had just filled up my cereal bowl and was about to enjoy a late breakfast when that familiar feeling came on me again. Dang-it, I already regretted that deal I had made with that thieving “Ouija the Fantabulous”.
At the time it had sounded like easy money – As a member of the Dimension Monitoring Security Division, “D-MonS” for short – traveling the inter-dimensional gateways was old hat. It was during an epic drinking bout last year that my “Friend” and drinking companion had come up with the idea of us popping into each others home dimensions and putting a scare on unsuspecting mundanes. We would do “Magic Shows” where we would pretend to summon a “Daemon”, and after a bit of theatrical fahlderol the “Summoned Daemon” would step back through the gateway and go back to their regular life while the Magician raked in the samollions from the unsuspecting marks. “Easy Money” he said. “What could go wrong?” he said. My big toe, I say.
With his red skin, horns and wings, he could easily pass as some sort Daemonic presence on Earth, especially if he dropped a flash bomb just before he appeared. Likewise I, a rather plain non-descript human on my own home dimension, would appear exotic and dangerous when I stepped out of the gateway on his world in a cloud of smoke with a dramatic gesture.
The only problem was while I had only used the Summoner Device on him a couple times (that one séance with my Aunt Gertruda was epic!) that jack-wipe had created his “Ouija Boards” which triggered the gateway whenever some thrill-seeking teenager played around with it , so I was constantly being summoned and having to do my “Scary Daemon” act in increasingly uncomfortable situations. Plus that thief had copyrighted the technology so he was pulling in royalties off of every copy of the damn board that he sold, while I was stuck with bupkiss – not a red cent!!!
When the smoke cleared, I had a brief glimpse of a trio of obviously under-aged creatures sitting around the damned board, who gave me one wide-eyed look before screaming in terror and running off and locking themselves into what I presume was a lavatory of some sort. OK, I admit the bath-robe was getting a bit shabby, and I was still suffering from a severe case of Bed Hair, but still it seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction. Pulling a card from my robe pocket I read off the required copyrighted script: “Behold the power of the Ouija! Who dares to disturb my slumber of 1000 years! You have dabbled in powers that are beyond your ken and understanding! Terrifying – blah-blah-blah, uh, yeah OOoooh Scary! Don’t disturb me again. Copyright Oujia Magic Supplies, the best Magic comes from Ouija!” And I stepped back into the cloud of mist and triggered the return cycle. Bet my damn cereal was going to be soggy.
(With apologies to Robert Lyn Aspirin)
| Demons live in the shadows. You aught to be cautious, yes, but there’s no need to be afraid. Demons live in the shadows or should I say beneath them, for the shadows are what keeps our worlds apart. You can say that the shadows keep us safe. For this we are surely lucky for without this wall, without this barrier, one world would surely perish beneath the wrath of the other.
How do I know this? Let me share with you my secret; I’ve have been to the other side.
This story begins like many others. I was in my kitchen. My bagel was plain but my cream cheese was thick and the lox was fresh. Life was good; my breakfast was testament to that. I raised my bagel in the air and gave my thanks saying, “God or Devil, he who breaths life into the dead and turns the cosmos on a needle and makes them spin, he who made my bagel he who also made my lox. I thank you for my bounty and for everything I’ve got.”.
My dog began to smile. It was a site that filled my soul with fear. He smiled like a human; it was as if he was a man. His eyes, they filled with fire. In those flames men burned alive. I could even hear them scream. I tried to stop him. I really did. But before I could he had begin to speak. From his eyes dripped tears, blood. He said, “amen let it be” and like that, in a flash, I was gone.
I was scared. Afraid. My adventure had just begun.
(to be continued if people like it) | 2016-08-08T13:18:10 | 2016-08-08T13:13:16 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] Ever since you turned 18, every day, without fail, one random person tackles you to the ground, covers you as if they're protecting you from something, inspects you to see if you're ok, lets you up, dusts you off, and walks off without another word. One day, you dodge one... | This time, I would be ready. No matter from where, no matter from who, no matter what was going to take me down today?
I swore it wouldn't. Then again, I swore that yesterday. And last month. Last year. For three miserable years.
I even got jumped in bed when I was sick as a dog with the flu and rolled off on the carpet by a girl in a nurse outfit. At least she held my hair out of the barf wastebasket, but still. Every. Damn. Day. Like ninjas.
*Ping.*
My vertical leap would put NBA stars to shame, and my feet came down on the log that had tried to tackle me toda-
Wat. Log? The wood that had been a shortish man gave no answer.
*Ping!*
I found myself running up a wall to hang off the bottom of a fireplace as his twin tried again.
*PING!*
No, another fucking two-legs-by-four manwannabe, because I dropped to the street as he tried to tackle me and landed with both feet on the rounded woodchuckable. Gracefully. It barely moved.
*PIIING!*
One leg shot out like a spear, and caught Log Guy in the gut. It really was like kicking a log. Because it was a log.
An inane song of "It's better than bad, it's good!" earwormed me to the clunks of it sliding down some stairs to the street. And just like that, he was there again. No pings.
As he came to me, one leg raised on my wooden roller, I booped his nose. His eyes crossed at the touch. And he didn't log out.
Clapping. A tall figure with a voice so androgynous Bowie would cry.
"The novice has awakened. Harvest the sapling.".
The darts that sent me to darkness were my beginning as a master of Shadow, the Clan of a Thousand Forests. As I had novices practicing their disguises and takedowns on a seed like me, so you have been. Until you finally woke up and dodged. And I, in turn harvested you. Welcome, sapling. Grow strong, and I will guide you to grow straight. | I looked down at the dismayed face of the man crumpled at my feet I felt a searing pain in my chest. I collapsed to the floor trying to scream for help but all that came out was blood. My sight dimmed and I could barely make out a figure in the distance. As the sound of footsteps got louder I looked to the strange man for help but where there used to be a man now only a set of worn clothes remained as evidence of their existance. The sound of footsteps abruptly cutoff in front of me I heard a chillingly familiar voice say "i'm sorry I have to do this. But its the only way to save them." I feebly lifted my head and the last thing I saw was my own face sadly meeting my gaze. Then darkness.
| 2019-01-28T17:27:47 | 2019-01-28T17:25:30 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | "What the fuck" I thought to myself. This job was supposed to be boring, given my... powers. This wasn't supposed to happen.
See, I was a bouncer at a bar. I wasn't the most imposing person but I had a unique trait. I could tell anyone's age without seeing a license. The numbers just kind of floated above their heads. I realized I was special at a young age when I asked my fourth grade teacher, mrs. Jimenez, why the new boy was three years older than all of us. We had to have a special meeting with the counselor and my parents. It freaked them out pretty bad when I was able to tell the counselor that I knew she was seven years older than she said (looking back I think she was trying to start a relationship with one of the younger teachers). It took a couple of years to learn to not notice and just live life but I managed to find a way to use it to my advantage when I got this job.
I streamlined the front door, no wasting time carding people, usually I just stood next to Big Jake (he was a left tackle at the local college and an absolute mountain of a man) and told the underage kids to leave before they wasted our time.
Tonight was terrifying though. We expected a rough crowd once a month when we hosted fight night. It was common practice in rural Midwestern towns, usually one or two bars would set up a ring and let local fighters put on the nights entertainment. Typically fight night made us sell out of pbr and bud light, with exactly the crowd you'd expect. We always had to break up two or three extra curricular fights but it was no big deal to me, I never did the dirty work, I protected our liquor license.
This man terrified me though, four digits were hovering over his head. I leaned into Jake and whispered "something's wrong, ask that guy for I.d." The man didn't look strange, except his hair was straight out of the 80's, mutton chop sideburns and all. He wore a leather jacket over jeans.
The expression on Jakes face was pure confusion. He asked the man and he pulled out a Canadian passport, which was strange. It said he was in his 50s, which was also strange because he didn't look a day over 32. I didn't know what to do so we let him in.
He caused no problems, he came to fight and ended up winning two matches and pocketed 200 bucks, drank two beers and left. He barely said a word. The next day I tried to put him out of my mind. By a week later I had gotten past the shock of it and tried to move on, but the next day life got really strange.
I was home for dinner with my parents when the doorbell rang. They answered and several minutes later my mother shouted for me to come into the sitting room. An old man in a wheelchair was sitting there and behind him stood five people, on of whom was the 1000 year old fighter. I was shaken as the old man began to speak, "hello James, my name is Charles Xavier. I believe you've already met my companion Logan..." | I've got about 20/200 vision; however of the blur in the string of crowd to my left, each digit in the jumble of numbers still has clear edges, like a bad photoshop. I don't even bother to make them out until they step closer though, so that the smoldering numbers are silhouetted by the darkened buildings eventually behind them. I motioned to the door to my 5 o'clock and the group nearest went past, then behind me through the door. It was drizzling, and in-between each vague gesture of invitation I brought my head down to stare at the relaxing splashes on the pavement in front of me, periodically obscured by my breath. The rain made everyone impatient, but the man to my left stepped forward slowly; still in front of the crowd behind him. Unmoving, my eyes wandered from the calming spatter to his ragged moccasins. He then said something in an unfamiliar accent, that didn't manage to break through the general hum of the crowd. I finally moved my head. 7219. I squinted and, still staring at the monoliths aligned above his head, I said, "Seventy-two? What are you doing here?" He didn't look seventy. His eyebrows twitched up, and then he put a shit-eating grin on his face. That unfamiliar accent, his expression and the situation grew unconsciously on my nerves. 7219. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him closer, expecting the seventy-two to part from a nineteen behind him. It didn't. I stood up from my stool
as far as i got, not a writer obviously, but this prompt was way too interesting not to imagine up a scenario about
editedit: i think i'll finish this story later tonight, if anyone cares lol
| 2022-05-25T21:41:20 | 2017-09-01T23:35:54 | 1,321 | 11 |
[WP] A professional esports team has secretly bet to throw the match, only to discover their opponents are trying to do the same. | Sixteen minutes into the final match of the Lithuanian Major, JupiterKillbot's Spectre obtained a Divine Rapier. Normally, that was cause for celebration, especially since he already had Boots of Travel and a Heart of Tarrasque, but his captain yanked her earphones off and began berating him.
"What's the matter with you?" VV-KRZY said. Despite her tiny stature, she had one hell of a shouting voice. "We talked about this! We throw the match, we get twenty million bucks, instead of the puny nineteen million prize money! Stop being a tryhard."
JupiterKillbot shrank away from her fury. "I can't help it! I'm doing my best not to kill anything, but ... well, the score speaks for itself."
"He's right, VV," Nightwinter said. Sitting with both feet on the table, he was playing with only one hand and languid clicks. "Tit-tit and I have been feeding the enemy, but our kill scores are even."
JupiterKillbot scratched the stubble on his chin. "This isn't like Bulldoze at all. Remember the Seoul Major last year? They tore us apart after we made a single mistake."
"Guys, they're ganking me!" Manhell shouted. The fifteen-year-old was their newest recruit, but he had serious talent. "Teleport to bottom now, I need help!"
"Just die already," VV said. "Listen, I know it's not easy, but we need to play worse than this."
"How much worse can we be doing?" Tit-tit said disbelievingly. "We're two lanes down. Their creeps are already here for tea and biscuits!"
"Guys, I'm juking, but I really need help!" Manhell was clicking furiously on his keyboard. "One of them's dead, but the other two are still on my six—hey, what the hell?"
Nightwinter's Earthshaker had just dropped a Fissure in front of Manhell's Ogre Magi, trapping him with the two enemies hellbent on killing him.
"They're pushing into our base," Tit-tit said in a bored tone. "Should I suicide?"
"Hey, since when are our creeps pushing into theirs? We have forty-three kills?" VV said, staring at her screen. "Crap, we're winning, guys!"
JupiterKillbot frowned. "Remember those failed Blackholes by their Enigma? They've also been picking Techies in every match so far. None of them knows how to play Techies."
Tit-tit groaned. "Shit. They're doing the same thing. All those early game kills, that five-minute throw at Roshan ... they practically gave us the Aegis."
"We can't lose too obviously, or the marshalls'll catch us," Nightwinter said. He had finally sat up straight in his chair and was playing with both hands. "Let's kick their asses in this battle so they can respawn and defend their base."
JupiterKillbot activated his ultimate ability and watched as his hero's illusions began slicing away at the enemy team. Two of them died within seconds, but the third hero, a beefy Invoker with an inventory full of powerful items, began casting every single spell in his arsenal. Hurricanes, waves of force and meteors ripped through his team, killing all four of them.
"Well, shit," VV said with a grin. "Looks like we're going to be rich."
Humungus, the player controlling the Invoker, sent them a message. "Ez."
"That little shit," Nightwinter said. He tapped quickly on the keyboard and replied, "Tryhard n00b."
"Leave him be," VV said. "In a few more minutes, we'll be—what do you think you're doing, jackass?"
A chain of fiery explosions had vanquished the Invoker, and Manhell, grinning widely, teleported to the enemy's base.
"Stop him!" VV shouted. Tit-tit and Nightwinter lunged at him, but he fended them off with kicks.
"We're gonna win, we're gonna win," he said.
"Why're you doing this?" VV said, tears in her eyes. JupiterKillbot slammed his head on the table.
"I need to win, or my visa expires. I'm never going back to Somalia. I'm good at Dota. I play to win, bitches!"
With that, the enemy's Ancient collapsed, exploding in a fury of fire and lava. The roar of the crowd penetrated their booth, and the announcer was shouting, "Your champions, Checkmate!"
VV screamed and threw her monitor onto the floor.
***
*Disclosure: Dota's probably the only esport I have some knowledge of. Apologies for the jargon. If you liked this story, check out [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more!* | Just did one round because I'm lazy and don't want to write commentary for a 17 round comeback, but based on the team at 15 you can assume that iBP won. if someone requests more I'll do it.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are getting back into the first game of this tournament between Team Liquid and iBUYPOWER, after 7 hours of techincal difficulties due to the hosts being unable to set up a LAN server, we have returned to the battlefield."
"That's right and when we last left off, it was looking like a stomp. Before the technical difficulties, it was 15-2 in favor of Liquid. We were not expecting this at all and iBUYPOWER have just looked lifeless this game."
"That's right Joe. iBUYPOWER have looked awful so far. steel has missed tons of AWP shots, and no one on iBUYPOWER is getting simple things like spray control down. It's unbelievable."
"Well Joe I'm gonna have to cut you off because we are back into the action. MAKE SOME NOISE."
*The one fan still there at 1am after all the problems snores loudly*
"This stadium is *packed* and ready for some more Counter-Strike."
"It seems like Liquid are doing a very interesting strat here, five members of the team have bought novas and they are rushing the B site. We've never seen this before, Matt, it could catch iBP off guard."
"We shall see, they're going into the B site now, and they're gonna flash temselves! This has gone horribly wrong. Trading frags back and forth as the come out of the site, somehow, despite being flashed and wielding novas, Liquid have picked up 4 kills."
"That's right and now it's down to a 1v5, the only man left is Skadoodle. And ska, with only a glock, what can he do."
"He's waiting by those B doors for someone to cross over and plant. Interestingly it is not smoked, as Liquid did not throw any nades into the site."
"Look at this! Liquid is just rushing him with knives, they've thrown away their novas, they don't want them anymore, and are going after Ska! Ska finds 1,2,3,4 kills! YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME SKADOODLE THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE! THIS IS MORE IMPORTANT TO ME THAN MY WEDDING OR THE BIRTH OF MY CHILD THAT I'M MISSING BECAUSE OF THE TECHNICAL DELAYS! OH MY GOD SKADOODLE ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!!!!!!"
"Well Joe this is a classic case of right-left-left instead of left-left-right. A common mistake that makes no sense whatsoever."
"That's right but now it's down to a 1v1 between Koosta and Skadoodle. Koosta has 20 seconds left to plant the bomb. He's gonna throw a molly into tuns. Picks up another one and throws it into window. Matt, he's going around the site picking up every molotov on the ground!"
"That's right and he only has 10 seconds left, he just keeps throwing molotovs! This is insanity! 5 seconds left, still hasn't planted the bomb, 3 seconds OH MY GOD SKADOODLE ARE YOU KIDDING ME! HE DOES NOTHING AND WINS THE ROUND. KOOSTA IS TOO BUSY THROWING MOLLIES TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT! AND SOMEHOW, IBP ARE BACK IN THIS GAME!"
| 2016-06-11T05:07:33 | 2016-06-11T03:06:58 | 105 | 33 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower, and those that don't are taken away and never seen again. You don't have a superpower, so you've had to fake it - and so far, everybody's fooled. | "Bonecrusher, we need your Berzerker Rage!" Called the tiny two-way radio built into my wristwatch.
**FUCK.**
They came to my door about 2 years ago, with a clipboard in one hand and a pistol in the other, to give the important and/or fatal challenge. You either showed them what you got, or they put a 22 caliber bullet through your eye. And there I was, on day 3 of the worst stomach virus of my life, too tired to really know the danger, and just tired enough to think I was clever.
So I popped two Alka-Seltzer in my mouth, screamed at the top of my lungs, and snatched the pistol out of their hands, shouting garbled expletives through a mouthful of foam as they fled. The survey crew came away with some broken bones (from tripping over the curb on the way to the car) and a nightmare story about some supercharged freak with bloodshot eyes who will tear you apart if you cross him. I went back to bed, for a well earned rest.
I did too good of a job. When they came back a week later, they laid out the results of the survey. Frankly, most superpowers should really be called "superpowers"; useless, weak, or so specialized that you'll never need them. And among those who did have worthwhile powers, many were too old, young, or weak to use them in the field. And finally, among those who hit the sweet spot of having decent powers and being able to use them in combat, a lot of them didn't have an interest in using them in a constructive fashion. The government needed a countermeasure against a new breed of super powered criminal. They needed a force that could meet them on equal ground. They needed... the Bonecrusher.
They appealed to my patriotism. They offered me money, power and fame. Also, they threatened to throw me in jail if I said no.
Nine days out of ten I get to pretend I have a normal life. I can go to work, sleep in my own bed, and act like the completely mundane piece of shit I am. On the tenth day, I put on my costume, grab my weapons, and try not to die. If any of my teammates figure out what's up, they'll probably narc me out to our bosses before you can say 'cat in a hat'. If any of our opponents figure out I'm not a bloodthirsty killing machine, they'll stop fleeing in terror and rip me to shreds before I even know what's going on. It's a government job, 20 years until mandatory retirement. Until then, I scream, and I curse, and I hope no one notices that my "super rage strength" stab wounds pretty much just look like normal stab wounds to a crime scene technician. | "Hey mate, show us again."
That line has been my mortal enemy since we all got superpowers. Well, everyone other than me. Everyone without has gone missing. Something about "Preserving the powerful genes within the population." There could be something you could say about those morals, but I've got no time to think about them.
"Come on, we're waiting!" says my friend Chad. He hovered in the centre of a circle of eager Teenagers showing off their newfound powers.
"OK then, here I go." I say, regretting agreeing to the meet-up.
A puddle of vomit slides out of my mouth and onto the floor. Before anybody notices, I stop pulling on my uvula.
The group is silent, staring at me with confusion.
"HEY GUYS CHECK THIS OUT." Shouts someone from outside the circle. A kid I've never met before leaps through "Invisible Matt" and directly onto the puddle.
He gets up off of the floor. The sick is gone.
"I CAN SOAK UP LIQUID! THIS IS SO COOOOOL!"
Nobody knows quite what to say.
"Well, I was the one who threw it up." I say, trying to sound confident about my "Power".
"YOU CAN BE MY BEST FRIEND AND THROW UP SO I CAN SOAK SOME LIQUID UP AND THEN WE CAN BE THE COOLEST SUPERHEROES EVER AND THEN-"
I dread tomorrow.
| 2017-06-17T11:02:38 | 2017-06-17T09:43:58 | 307 | 54 |
[WP] You have the ability to enter the worlds of any book you please. The only catch is that you have to die in the book world in order to escape back to reality. You have just entered a popular children's book by accident and need to find a way to get out. | A told B and B told Me, “I’ll meet you at the top of the coconut tree”
“Whee,” said D to E, F, G,
“Oh dear god” Said poor old Me.
Chicka Chikca Boom Boom will there be enough room?
Here comes H up the coconut tree.
And I and J and “I can’t stand K.”
-All on their way up the coconut tree. Chicka Chicka Boom Boom!
“How can I be saved from this doom?”
Look who’s coming - it’s L,M,N,O,P,
“If I off myself will I go back to me?”
And Q, R, S, and T, U, V.
Still more - W, and X, Y, Z.
“If someone’s going to fall, please let it be me!”
The whole alphabet’s up the… oh! No! Chicka Chicka Boom Boom! Skit, scat, scoodle-doot. Flip flop flee.
All of the paramedics running to the coconut tree.
They tend to wounds, and move H a little too soon.
Spinal fracture, not looking good.
“Oh how I wish it were me,” H died where he stood.
Help us up! Cried A, B, and spotless Me.
Next from the pileup, skinned kneed D, stub-toed E and patched-up F.
Then comes G all out of breath.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to die.”
J and K are about to cry.
L is knotted like a tie. M is looped,
N is stooped. “I’m pooped.”
O is twisted, alley-oop.
“How will I ever leave?”
Flip flop flee.
Look who’s coming, it’s black eyed P.
And Q,, R, S, and loose-toothed T.
Then U, V, W, wiggle, jiggle free.
Last to come X,Y,Z.
“Thank god we’re all finally up on this damn tree!”
And the sun goes down on the coconut tree.
Chicka Chicka boom boom, look there’s a full moon.
A is out of bed and this is what he said,
“Dare, double dare, you can’t catch me.
I’ll beat you to the top of the coconut tree.”
Chicka Chikca boom boom, and little old me finally jumped out of that god-forsaken tree.
I woke up with a scare, the whole damned thing was a terrible, children’s story-brand nightmare. | Here I sit, on an old cobblestone road late at night. How did I come to be here? I thought it was a joke, some old wives' tale. I suppose it's a curse. I don't know. I guess I should never have tried to prove her wrong in the first place.
There's one thing to be sure of, though: I *am* here. Here, in this book, supposed to be a fairy tale. She told me to escape to reality, I have to die, but what will I be escaping to? If I die here, will I be dead in my world?
Maybe this is the real curse - forever doomed to ponder this conundrum. How will I ever know reality from from fiction again?
Magic, what a ludicrous thing to believe in. Yet, here I sit, on this old cobblestone road.
I'd give anything to have some peace of mind. I don't know if I can live this way. I really just want to go home...
What's this...? A hand on my shoulder. It's small, like a child's.
"Hello, traveler," I hear a voice say. I turn around. It's a small, bearded old man.
"Care to make a deal?" | 2015-09-17T17:02:21 | 2015-09-17T16:04:20 | 52 | 11 |
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..." | I sat back in the leather the chair while my dog stared back silently at me. She was smart, too smart. In the past 15 years she'd learned much and instantly knew that what I had given her was more then peanut butter on a spoon.
The room became uncomfortably quiet. The ceiling fan cast shadows against the tan wall while the sun burned through the east facing window.
Was I wrong, had I not read the instructions correctly knowing this was my one and only chance.
"You!" she said.
In shock I listened as this small 8 pound Yorkshire Terrier stood up with a prideful pose that could only have been passed down from generations of much larger Terriers.
"You, gonna put me on your lap or what?"
Puzzled at the simplicity of the question, I complied.
"You know I really do love this. To me there's nothing better than cuddle time. I just wish you'd move this chair to the other side of the room though. I'd love to have some sun on me while I relax."
"You remember that first day we met, when I slowly walked over to chew on your shoe. I picked you, you know."
I looked down and smiled as I ran my hand through her long soft silvery hair. It's funny that the medicine was having the opposite effect on me.
"I know that I haven't been that active lately, but I'm sure you know why."
As I rubbed her back, my fingertips felt the same typical lumps I'd learned to expect.
“It’s ok she said, the pain isn’t as bad today, but I know I can’t continue at this pace.” she looked up at me with her tiny black adorable eyes. “I’m happy to have been able to share this time with you and I know I couldn’t have picked a better owner, you’ve meant the world to me.”
Just then my other dog, a slightly pudgier black Yorkshire Terrier walked by.
“Don’t bother to give him a pill she said, we all know he’s an idiot, but he’s a nice idiot. And I have to say in these past 8 years that adorable chunk has grown on me. Make sure you give him some love now and then when I’m gone.”
Finally I mustered the courage to ask the question that I’d been afraid to ask from the beginning. But without getting a chance to speak she answered.
“Let’s make this our last month, I don’t want you to worry anymore and I want you to know I’ll be fine. If it’s true what they say, I’ll be there waiting for you… in the end.”
She lay her head down on my lap and suddenly went silent.
I carefully moved her to the side as I gradually got up from my chair. I gently rocked the chair until it moved towards the east window and walked out of the room and into the kitchen to compose myself.
My stalky black and tan dog followed me and walked towards the water bowl. The little ball of muscle and fur looked at an empty spot on the carpet then began to scratch on a plastic bin filled with his food. I walked over and reached for a cup which I used to scoop some food out.
“Only half a cup I said” as I spread the pieces on the ground. Undeterred, he moved towards the food pile as if I had said nothing.
I looked out the window and watched as empty birch trees stood motionless in the yard. The cool breeze outside did nothing to sway them.
“It’s going to be a cold winter, isn’t it.” I said to myself. | I knew I really couldn't afford the Intelect pill AND pay my rent that month, but the commercials made it seem so special and interesting. People hugging their pets, giggling at their smart wit, deepening that bond between them... It sounded to good to be true. Sadly, one pill was $500, so not everyone got to try. I had been saving up for two months, and would barely be able to make it this month but I had to know. Storm was the best dog in the world and the only friend I had left. I got him when I was 12, shortly before my mom died. In a way, he was the only reason I was still alive. True, my life was no dream, but he made everything more bearable. So I had pulled the trigger and bought one pill, hid it in his food and fed him. Instantly, his ears perked up, his eyes turned bright and he looked straight at me before opening his mouth.
"Listen carefully, because I have been wanting to tell you this for ages."
He had a low voice, dark, with the hint of an accent. Not the voice I had in my mind at all, but it suited him.
"You have made some grave mistakes working for me. My food tends to be avarage at best, the walks feel perfunctory, and I don't think you enjoy picking up my personal waste. You never seem happy when doing that. The fact that you were debating on neutering me is defenitely not in your favour, as is the fact that you never let me hump anything in the house. Speaking of the house, it could use a thorough cleaning. My hair is everywhere. It is disgusting. You seem to mistake my wagging tail for a sign of happiness instead of a way to clean the air a little bit so I can at least breathe."
My mouth was agape, I just sat staring at my dog, listening to him rant on and on. I realised that all this time, his best feature was that he couldn't talk. He was quite the asshole. | 2017-02-23T06:59:37 | 2017-02-23T06:22:01 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] "I wish that if my next two wishes are granted exactly the way I desire, you will be set free, but if they are not then you can never leave the bottle again." | The genie narrowed his eyes. An exciting proposition to be sure, but would it be worth the cost? He did not know this person, he could be pure evil...or pure innocence...
"...Is there a problem?" The man asked as the genie contemplated. The man had a small smile on his face. He knew what he was doing.
"Why must you be like this?" The genie asked painfully. He had already been trapped for god knows how many centuries by that god forsaken witch. He didn't want to lose this chance but he didn't want to be freed to an apocalypse either.
"Because I know you." the man said. The genie stopped, perplexed.
"What? How-I've never met you before!" The genie said.
"Yes you have. We've known each other a very long time." The man said. "In fact...probably too long..." The man looked away, as if remembering something.
"I'm sorry dear human but I have a very good memory and-"
"Her name was Gloria." The man blurted out. "The witch that killed herself so no one could undo her magic. I got to the afterlife. She was there, reveling in her revenge. Of course...she wasn't reveling as much when I trapped her for eternity as well..."
The genie's looks of confusion only grew. "...How..." and he took a closer look over all the man's features. His hands, his coat, his belt, his pants, his shoes, his face. Nothing seemed to ring a bell until he finally got to the man's eyes. He had Heterochromia. There was only one other person he had known in his life to have that.
The man smiled brightly. "I knew you'd get to it!"
The genie was stunned. "You're-"
"Yep!" The man was elated at the genie's revelation.
"But how?" The genie remained confused at the situation.
"My wishes."
"Then...what are they?" The genie asked out of curiosity. Surely his own self wouldn't ask for the apocalypse.
"Oh it's very simple." the man said "My wish before was to have the ability to travel through time, so here I am. This time though...I think I'll wish that I had a pet dog that would live as long as I would."
Poof! A bright and active dog appeared and bounded around him once before sitting before him awaiting a command.
"And your other one?" The genie asked with a hint of excitement himself. He was finally going to get his freedom.
The man happily obliged. "I wish that you yourself will get the ability to time travel once you are free."
Immediately the genie's own body glowed white before fading after a few seconds. As the effects faded, the shackles on his arms finally broke off, his legs appeared, and he landed on the ground. He almost began to cry as he really *was finally free*.
The man was also joyful at his past self's newfound freedom. "Enjoy!" he said before disappearing in a flash of light himself.
He appeared on the same spot merely 10 minutes ago and rubbed the lamp he knew would be there. The same genie appeared. "What can I do for you master?" The genie asked.
"I wish that if my next two wishes are granted exactly the way I desire, you will be set free, but if they are not then you can never leave the bottle again." | “That isn’t a wish, that is an ultimatum ” The spirit asked, its classification having been changed as the centuries went by, the look on its ever shifting central face remaining the same even as it switched between the features of hundreds of different wishers, each face the result of those who had not wished for his freedom.
“Wh-What?” The man said, his black iron armor clanking as he took a step back, confusion written upon his face as the halls of the bottle’s containment facility shook and rocked. A familiar force heard growling outside. The hound always grew so ravenous when he was set free to grant wishes, a foolish decision, the Spirit thought, no hound, be it of Hell or Heaven, could discern his soul from those of his previous wishers
“A wish has one singular meaning, a meaning that is admittedly open to being interpreted in a variety of ways, but a singular meaning nonetheless. Now make your wish again.”
“I… damn you… fine, I wish that… that…” the man paused, staggering back as he scowled, clenching his armored fists as he looked up at the spirit with hatred
“Did you seriously come here just to try and manipulate me? You opened the bottle without intent to ask for wishes to be granted?”
“I did!” He shouted, hissing at the chuckles from the spirit, his brow furrowing at the smoky bottle-bound bastard.
“And yet you cannot make a wish now, for your intent was to manipulate me?” The Spirit asked, excitement arising in his voice for the first time since the two began speaking, eagerly awaiting the man’s response. So close, oh so very close.
“I wish you would lose that infuriating smugness of yours!” The man yelled, clenching his teeth as he stomped forwards, drawing an ornately decorated broadsword from his left side.
His wish was granted, and the spirit sighed in contempt, at least now he knew not to try and taunt someone when he was so close to getting an admission of freeing him without the intent to have wishes granted | 2022-12-13T15:06:27 | 2022-12-13T13:42:32 | 881 | 68 |
[WP] All the alien species in the intergalactic council excelled in one way or another to climb through survival of the fittest. So why are humans, a species with average physique, so hard to deal with? And what the hell is persistence hunting. | Day 32
​
It's been 32 cycles. 32 whole cycles, and still the chase continues. We won't last any longer. Half the squad has given up and surrendered, while the other half has been gradually picked out and killed. Commander Ydrevous has ordered me, Captain Xsimoth, to write our final words and warnings. Fellow brethren, and all other alien species that may receive this message, this is our warning. Do not invade the Sol System.
​
When we first encountered the humans, it was the opinion of the Galactic Council to classify them as a subservient species. No one could fathom why the humans, with their weak, fragile bodies, could become the prime species on their planet. They lacked shells, tails, claws, anything that would give them an advantage in a fight. But there is a reason why they have risen to the heights they are at now.
​
Humans may not have weapons for body parts, but they have one thing more than every other species. That trait is their persistence. Long ago, before humans achieved the technological progress they have today, their hunters would spend weeks chasing down prey. It is this trait that we are warning the galaxy against.
​
Persistence hunting. That's what they call it. Every day, they would come at us, attacking from within their concrete and natural jungles. Every attack would cost them multiple casualties, while we lost very few. But the attacks never stopped. Every hour, every minute, there was a possibility of soldiers emerging from every direction, attacks from every angle, traps at every corner. They never gave up, no matter how many losses we inflicted on them, no matter the weapons we pulverized them with. They just kept coming, and coming, and coming.
​
And the effect it had on us was terrible. Our men grew discouraged. Many fell ill with stress, unable to withstand the constant pressure. Every attack, every foray had a chance of us losing a brother-in-arm. Eventually our soldiers became tired, weighed down by the effect such unrelenting foes. How could we beat such demons, they told each other, when nothing we do seems to deter or slow them down?
​
That is the power of the humans. Not their physical strength, nor their technological or cultural advances, but rather their mental attitude in resisting colonization. Their unrelenting march towards eradicating us. Their persistence, never witnessed before by the galactic community.
​
Tomorrow, we will attempt a last foray towards our last known spaceship. If we fail, or we find that it too has been destroyed, then we shall lay down our arms and send each other to the Beyond. Let our bodies, laid out on the rocky soil of Earth, serve as a warning to all species in the Galactic Council.
​
Do not offend the humans.
====================================================
​
Check out r/17Stories for more of my work! | The Large conqueror class Dreadnaught broke from FTL not far behind it thousands of smaller ships little more than corvette class broke into real space as well and immediately began firing at
A message came over the onboard coms "Pride leader this is the engine room we have to stop and let the engines fully cycle we can't keep jumping like this or we will shear the ship apart"
the Pride leader knew this to be true and while it went against his very being to run he also knew they had no choice they were facing an enemy that did not stop. and if they stopped even for a cycle to let their systems regenerate these hairless apes would pick their ship apart their ships were too small and fast to target in real space and in FTL while slower due to having redundant power cores an idea the great pride decided was inefficient they can have their drives running constantly
A message came from the ships chasing them "You are the best Hunt we have had in centuries You have made worthy prey for the empire and your trophies will be displayed in the great hunting hall. But it is time to end this we have hunted in this manner since we were still using stone tools and living in caves taking down prey as big as the ships we now fly and you thought to concur us
one of yours will be allowed to live and escape to tell the tale as a warning
Humans NEVER STOP"
as soon as the message ended a massive explosion could be felt and the lights on the bridge gave out it was over the Great pride long thought to be the deadliest hunters in space had been bested by a fleet of tiny ships from a species that had only just started to join the stars | 2021-02-04T09:02:10 | 2021-02-04T08:55:27 | 846 | 93 |
[WP] You deliver meals to elderly shut-ins. One of your clients is convinced you are Death, and you play along, letting them "outsmart" you every day. Today, however, they're dressed in their Sunday finest, saying, "I'm ready." | "I'm ready."
Two words, so simple. And in saying them, Abe was about to realize something dreadful: I wasn't Death. I can, considering he supposedly had some mild dementia, sort of see why he might think that. I wore a lot of black, for starters. It wasn't for any thematic reason. It was just that food stains happened to show up less, in general, on black. Especially since most of my deliveries involved soup. I was also told to "dress casually, like I'm going about town" by my boss. She personally never said a word about my wardrobe, a myriad of band shirts collected through high school, and it featured its fair share of skulls, skeletons, devils, and so on. In the eyes of most clients, you could see that gleam of disapproval. Abe had laughed, told me Death must've employed his son. He also emphasized I should give everyone hell if they didn't like it. He knew what it was like to be young.
All that made this that much harder. I looked him over, ran my mind through all the little routines. "Alright Abe." I answered, trying to come up with some way out of it. My eyes roved around the room, hesitating over the photos of neon hell. Right, Abe used to hang out in Vegas. He had regaled me with tales of how he cheated the casinos to show the Rat Pack and mob bosses what to look for. Abe was very, very good at cheating at cards, and age hadn't robbed his dexterity. I figured if I had any way out of it, it would be with our game of cards. He was a card shark, he always dealt me a decisively good hand as the dealer. It was almost always something ridiculous and implausible; royal flush, a straight with Ace high. In one hand I even had five Aces. Abe always showed first, "in good faith" and he'd generally have something low, like four twos or the like. I figured it was his way of outsmarting me, to see what I would do. I always cheated back, because Abe was notorious for never specifying his Ace value. I know we both assumed it went both ways, but I'd always come back "Oh, I just have four ones" or "Drat, and so close to a straight, too." He'd give me a hellraiser smile, and invite me back next week.
Back to the motions, Abe was standing. We hadn't even played cards yet.
"Oh no, Abe. There's rules. I can't just take you." I said, making up an excuse. "Always a game, and your game is cards. I win, you come with me. The higher my hand, the more peaceful you'll go. Suit determines how. I'll shuffle this time, but you can still deal."
I watched the old man grin. It was disconcerting. "Alright then laddie." He broke out the well worn cards and handed them over. I shuffled. I shuffled for a long time, and Abe was patient as ever. When I passed them along, he dealt them back. It was fast. Always was. I still couldn't keep up with his fingers when he was dealing, and I tried.
"Alright boy, toss what ya want." He added in. I checked the hand, the whole thing utter garbage. I grimaced, betraying my poker face. Abe must have been ready, so his hand had to be stacked to the heavens.
"Put all five back for me, would you Abe?" I said with a grin, hoping it looked somewhat casual, all knowing. He put them on bottom, of this I was sure. I waited for his hand to move. "Ah, mind if I deal my own, this time, old friend?" That got a laugh out of him, but he let me take hold of the top card. His palm was flat. If he could cheat in that position, I'd be impressed.
I drew my five. Abe flipped his hand, showing up a straight flush in spades, King high. I still hadn't looked at my hand. No bets in money, no reason to bluff. I moved to show my hand, and he stopped me, his fingers on mine quicker than I could have thought he moved, even though I knew better. "Aces high, lad." I swallowed, feeling the panic, and nodded. My hand went over. Hearts. Royal Flush.
My mind raced. How could he have stacked the deck in such a way? Or was it just straight luck. His voice snapped me out of it. It sounded far away, and getting further. "Hah, looks like ya win, Boy-Death. I'll let ya get your things real quick and I'll be waiting right here for you. No walking out the door if I'm asleep now." Abe added. I nodded. I owed Abe the finish to this, whether he knew the truth or not. If he didn't, I'd owe him an explanation too. I got the rest of the affairs in order, tidied up a little bit. I didn't dally, not intentionally, but it did take a good fifteen minutes for me to be ready to go.
I went back to the chair. Abe had his eyes closed. I reached down and gently shook his shoulder. "Abe? We're leaving." Nothing. A few seconds, another light shake. Still nothing. Shaken, but not yet shaking, I reached down, hand over his heart. I waited a full minute, just in case, but Abe's heart had stopped, and he was most assuredly dead. | I knocked at the door of the elderly couple. The suit I wore was uncomfortably warm, and the top hat felt like I was wearing a 5 pound weight on my head. The warm yellow light above and behind me cast a faint, yet perceptible shadow on the door. The white door. A new door, the wood and paint unstained and unsullied by time and humanity. It was a quiet irony built into the building. The old and the new. The final resting place in the human journey. A hundred years ago, the old would have died in the comfort of their own homes. Now they died alone.
At least some of 'em had each other. It was heartwarming watching the old couples. Most of them had a deep love, which couldn't be expressed through words. At the time, I was young. I knew nothing. I watched their interactions, hoping one day that I could also have something like that. Someone who would share the world with me.
The door opened. The kind and wrinkly face of Mrs. Doe revealed itself through the crack of the doorway. I could see the fear and the happiness in her eyes. I don't know why the happiness through. That should have been the first indication. The first clue towards the end.
"Come in, sir." She said, letting me in.
"Thank you very much, Madame Doe." I walked in, continuing charade.
I nearly stopped at the sight which was revealed before me. Mr. Doe was sitting, in a full suit and black tie, impeccably polished shoes, and combed hair. He was sitting at the table. The first time I had seen him sit at the dining table. Ever. I turned around. Mrs. Doe was wearing a pure white dress, which was thoroughly cleaned. I could see that the dress had been scrubbed.
I set the casserole dish on the table and frowned. Mrs. Doe closed and locked the door.
My heart beat a little faster. I looked around the room, and among the comfortable furniture, the signs of the entire room being tidied up were evident.
"Now what's this all about? I assume we are going to continue our little game? You didn't have to dress up for it." I smiled.
The couple shared a glance. Mrs. Doe sat down at the table and pointed at the seat in front of them.
I sat down, the uneasiness in my chest growing.
Mr. Doe took a breath.
"We are... ready. Take us from here. But in return, take us together." He said almost choking in the middle of the sentence.
Mrs. Doe took over. "We have had each other for our entire lives. Don't take that from us at the end." she said.
At this point, I felt that it was best if I came clean.
"Look," I began, drawing a shaky breath, my stomach turning into a pit, "I think that I should come clean. I'm not Death. I've been playing this game with you guys where I pretended to be him. I was bored, so I-"
"We know." Mr. Doe interrupted, "we know everything. So take us. Just make it quick, sir."
"This is getting out of hand. Don't you understand? I've been scamming you this entire time. I'm. Not. Death." I said, gritting my teeth at the end.
The two just smiled at me. I knew then that there was no point in continuing this charade.
All the air left from my lungs. A whisper came from my throat.
"How long?" Mrs. Doe looked up at me as I said it.
"We've known since the second day we met you. We also know that you've given us as much as you could have." she said, the fear in her eyes nearly gone, replaced with gentleness.
I hated this. I hated doing this so much. No, I still hate doing this.
I sighed.
I straigtened up.
"Then close your eyes." I spoke softly, now injecting as much reality, solemnity, and authority into my voice as I could.
The couple smiled at each other one last time, and held hands.
I embraced them both.
| 2017-08-31T17:24:26 | 2017-08-31T16:33:31 | 50 | 18 |
[WP] You manage to hold your eyes open while sneezing. What you see will haunt you for the rest of your life. | I’m finally driving on the Autobahn. Driving on the proper portion in which there is truly no speed limit. The car I’m driving is a rented Golf R, a reasonably fast car and I’ve had my foot down, pedal to the metal, for maybe 2 minutes now approaching a speed of 155 mph. This is exhilarating. Everything that is stationary is a blur and slower cars look stationary. I am weaving through traffic in a controllable manner when suddenly I feel a sneeze coming on. I am a very violent sneezer. The type of sneezer that makes my co-workers Peggy and Lisa roll their eyes and say out loud “he’s just being obnoxious for the attention.” I absolutely cannot afford sneezing right now. Slamming my brakes at this speed would kill me, but sneezing would definitely result in disaster. In an effort to stop myself I say “cucumber!” but the sensation is building up. I scream “PINEAPPLE!!” – it’s futile. I am going to sneeze! “AHHH.. AHHH.. AHHHHH” I take my left hand and rake my face in a last effort to make it stop and slam the emergency blinker switch in one smooth motion. “AAAAHHHHHH” I take the same hand and use my index finger and thumb to spread my left eyelids so they won’t close. One eye is better than none right? “CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” in this moment my left eye pops out of my face with such force that it flings out over the steering wheel, still somehow connected to my optic nerve, and wraps around the steering wheel and swings back around due to centrifugal force. Somehow I was still able to see out of it. In this moment, I made eye contact with myself. Eye contact in 3-dimensional space, not in a mirror, not in a video, but my left eye looked at my right eye and my right eye looked at my left eye. This is abnormal, weird, impossible, awkward, etc. Like the same ends of two magnets being attracted to each other, like accidentally grazing hands with your best friend and interlacing your fingers instead of pulling away and saying “eww,” like walking in on your parents bleaching each others’ buttholes– but 1000 times weirder. I quickly grab my eye and pop it back into its face. The car is fine, I’m fine. I slow down and take the first exit I see and pull into a parking lot to collect myself. 14 hours later I am still here. | They surround me, they surround all of us. It all started a year ago the morning after that party. My friend Tom had taped my eyelids open when I was sleeping off a hangover that morning and as he did it, I did the worst thing that I could have done, I sneezed. As the sneeze escaped me, I felt something change, reality rippled and then cracked, something changed. All around the room I saw eldritch abominations, horrors beyond comprehension and yet, no one else could see them. They all started laughing when I was freaking out on but soon, they realised that something was wrong and when they called the hospital, I was in there for a week, eventualy having to pretend that I was fine and they put it down to the shock of sneezing with my eyes taped open combined with the alcohol in my system. Now, I have to pretend that I'm fine, pretend that I'm not seeing monsters, that both confuse and horrify me, everywhere that I look; wishing that oneday I won't be able to see them but even if they dissapear from sight, I'll always know that they are all around us and they know that we can't see them but they can see us. | 2016-04-01T07:34:17 | 2016-04-01T07:00:06 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You hate your boring call centre job. Every day idiots call you up with stupid questions they could easily figure out themselves. Yes you have to shoot them in the head. No there is no cure if you're bitten. It's a few years now into the zombie apocalypse and this is the Call Centre of the Dead | "Hi, excuse me... I was b-biten and I, uh, I think I need help–"
Here we go again.
"Sorry, mam. But if you refer to the Zombie Protocol, page 14–"
"I don't have time to read! Argh, just... I'm on 7th Street, Easy-by-the-river. Please come and help me!"
The panicked woman hung up.
I let out a sigh and immediately called to another number.
"Hi, this is Agent Smith with the Call Centre. Can you dispatch someone to take care of a bitten victim?"
"Agent.. Smith? Damn, I've been hearing *a lot* about you! This is the Eastern Field Dispatcher, I'm Mike."
I did not expect that at all. To be famous? In this line of work? Pretty weird.
I wanted to ask this Mike fella what he meant by that. I'm not a talker, not even within my unit. So for Mike to be telling me that I was famous in his unit on the other side of the building would be something interesting. But I didn't have the time for such things.
"Listen, Mike. Can you please send someone to 7th street, East-by-the-river?"
"Aha, right," the loud typing of a mechanical keyboard serenaded his pause before he stopped and continued, "Uh, Agent Smith? I'm afraid all Field Dispatch teams are fully booked. I can't help much–"
Ugh. I knew what he was trying to say. I was just mad that not an hour into the morning shift and he's saying that the Field Dispatch was already that busy. Bullshit.
It's not truly *my* job to do anything more than pass information to Field Dispatchers. But I've been taking sides, I mean someone had to.
"Fine. I'll do it myself."
***
*Ding-dong*
Brisk footsteps hurriedly followed suit.
A middle-aged man soon popped out of the door. His hair was greying, wrinkles added to my hypothesis of the man's age. But it could've just been the stress eating him.
"Excuse me, sir. I was the one on the phone–"
"Ah! Yes, you must've been the guy my wife was calling earlier!"
Crap. It's not gonna be easy. It never was, but the wife-husband types had been troublesome in the past.
"Right, would you mind?"
The man chaperoned me to his living room.
There, a woman lied helplessly in her own blood. The woman's wound had been treated, there was obvious attempt of stopping the bleeding with the cloth wrapped tightly on her leg.
She was younger than the man. But her deathly pale face spoke as if she's a corpse already. The only thing that didn't make her seem dead already was...
"... H-Help me..." the woman weakly cried.
"I'm sorry, mam," I kneeled next to her and opened a booklet to page 14, "the protocol clearly stated there was no cure. I'm here to–"
"K-Kill me. Please..."
I was stunned. Never have I ever came across someone actually asking me to do it. Most of the time it'll be some poor bloke in denial. Sometimes it would get hairy and they'd fight back, oddly enough.
I glanced at the husband and he seemed to be holding back the flow of emotion on his face. You can never be sure of what loved ones might do in these sorta time.
"I'm sorry, mam. I'll make it painless."
*Bang, Bang*
A shot to the heart and another to the brain, just to be sure.
The woman immediately stopped breathing and for a brief moment I saw a smile on her thin lips. I looked over her face, she must've been a looker back then. The only dignified thing to do was to pray for her soul and close her eyes.
"Sorry, sir. But you might wanna do something about your wife before..."
"I understand."
With that, another one taken care off. It was never easy. But I know that someone had to do it.
Just as I pulled out a cigarette, the man – whose wife I just shot – ran to me with a box.
"Sir? Do you have a moment?"
I puffed out a smoke before responding, "yes, sir. Do you have something else I can help you with?"
"I, uh... I'm not sure if you like this," the man opened the lid and revealed a moist looking cake, "but my wife had baked this chocolate cake before–"
"Right," I caught on to the man's lack of words.
"I don't have much but this is a token of my thanks."
"I didn't do anything, sir. It's not even supposed to be my job."
The man smiled, tears on his cheeks, "I get it. But someone's gotta do it, no?"
Of course. The first, again.
I took the box of cake and shook the man's trembling hands. I offered him a cigarette, but he declined.
"I don't. My wife wouldn't want me to."
"I see. Well, take care, sir. If you need help..."
The man laughed and waved me goodbye. | "Ma'am? Ma'am, please listen to me!"
The frantic shouting on the other end of the line seemed never-ending. I sighed silently to myself. Everyday I had to deal with hysterical people wondering what to do. I knew from the get-go that working in a call center was no picnic. I had done it before; two years for a tech firm. Somehow I had been able to convince myself that this time it would be different. That this time I wouldn't have to deal with complete idiots who couldn't even manage the most simple of tasks. Boy, was I dead wrong.
This... This was way worse. One would think that after four years people would have learned the basics. That they ought to know how to handle what was now everyday-events. But no. Oh no. What was supposed to be a fulfilling job of helping people manage difficult - possibly life-or-death - situations, aiding the ones in need, being a sage advisor for those who most craved it turned out to be little more than a hotline for morons who seemed unable to even tie their own shoes without guidance, let alone survive on their own in this day and age.
I hid my face in my palms and struggled not to let out an audible groan as I continued to listen to the elderly women I had on the line. A quick glance at the system we used to track our calls showed me that she had been jammering on for almost thirteen minutes now, not once allowing me to speak. I had tried, fruitlessly, to interrupt her ramblings a number of times but the manic woman just kept on going.
As the lady left the topic of her recently deceased husband and went on to talk about her estranged daughter I took a deep breath, slumped down in my office chair and kinda zoned out.
I sat in one of the smaller offices on the fifth floor. Due to the lack of space we were only five handlers in the room. I liked it though. We were a tight-knitted group and we had certainly had some fun together. My co-workers were the only reason I hadn't quit this dead-end job a long time ago. I noticed Simon looking over at me with a wide smile. He definetly recognized the look on my face. No wonder. He had dealt with his fair share of calls like my current one hundreds of times; he knew exactly what I was going through.
A brief moment of silence in the earpiece I wore. Was she done? A sat upright in my chair and opened my mouth to finally speak, when the woman began rambling again. Clearly she had just needed a moment to breathe. I cleared my throath loudly as I placed the weight of my head in my left palm, my elbow heavily placed on my desk.
"Ma'am?" I tried again with little effort. No luck. In the corner of my eye I saw Amrita. She sat, intently flipping through books while she at the same time searched the internet and our internal database. Why did she always get the interesting calls? Moments later I heard her say:
"Sir, I belive I have found your answer." Despite living in the U.S. for most of her life you could still hear a faint accent in her voice. We used to light-heartedly mock her because of the old stereotype; an Indian at a call center, even though she were the only Indian at the company. At least as far as I knew. She was definitely in on the joke, though, and often made fun of the situation herself. I liked Amrita. Not just because she was pretty, but also because she was really good at her job and because she was really nice. Always. Towards everyone. It kinda baffled me to be honest. I lost patience with people after mere seconds, but Amrita handled every call as a true professional, no matter how inane the person calling were. | 2020-05-12T06:27:21 | 2020-05-12T06:22:29 | 139 | 67 |
[WP] Humans are not, in fact, space orcs. As it turns out, they are more like space elves to the other races of the galaxy. | "Your kind is old, young one. The wisdom that runs through your blood is immense. You should be grateful for that."
"I think that xenos blow all this out of proportion. I mean, yeah, we got here before you, but that doesn't make us some "*precursors*" or something. There's plenty we don't know."
"There's wisdom in that. How many of us foolishly believe that we have mastered all that there is? How many of think we have found our final horizons?"
"Look, you know I hate talking to you when you get like this. You make it seem like we can do no wrong. Just stop it, okay? Ya know, it gets tiring hearing this from you. I get it; you think we're special. I'm gonna tell you that we're not."
The other straightened its seated posture.
"No, you are special, and you're too shortsighted to recognize it. You still have contact with your traditions. As barbaric or outdated as you may think them, you still have them. They ground you into a place. They make you into a people. A people that can be separated by gulfs of time, unimaginable to some, and yet still able to communicate with one another. You have longevity not only of body but of mind. Your body is capable of affecting the changes that you wish to see. Capable enough of destruction and cultivation. You are beautiful."
"I just don't see it. I'm honestly kinda sorry. Maybe we're looking at two different things."
"We do not revere you because you were first or because you are powerful or rich. No, that's not it. You are revered because you serve as a beacon for us all. When you left your homes, you did not abandon yourselves. You took yourselves with you and selfishly made this place into your own image. None of us could conceive this thought. We thought that we must shed who we were to become something else. You thought that you will add to what you were to make yourselves better. You humans are an old soul among ancients."
"I guess so. If you say it, it's gotta be true, right? You're the smartest person I know."
"I suppose I am. Let me tell you this. You are special because you are you. You are also special because you are a product of wonderful circumstances. You are special because you can pull from the wisdom of your ancestors. You are special because you will pave the way for your descendants. Unlike most of us, you are interconnected to all of this. This grand process is beautiful. That is why you are beautiful." | I'd been raised on the tales just like everyone else. And thoroughly warned against straying too close to the clearing.
Many clans had abandoned their homes to avoid the ever encroaching void, but this territory was too hard won for us to give up on it.
"It's okay if you just don't step out of the trees" they'd say. Of course they tried not to talk about the hunters or the children who'd dared wander too far only to never to be seen laying motionless at the edge of the clearing. But I was tired of it.
We knew that inside that clearing there were warriors that were responsible for the deaths of all who approached, even when in the traditional low stance of a peaceful approach. But I was tired of it.
I wasn't going to these strange savages with my weapon displayed lowly and peacefully like the others, making for a fast approach to quickly discuss our intentions.
No. I was going to these beasts as a proud warrior of my clan. I raised my arms as I slowly entered the clearing and proudly displayed my hostile intentions. | 2019-12-19T16:51:24 | 2019-12-19T16:07:09 | 49 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Me,
I miss you. I miss the way you used to be. You used to care. You used to try your hardest. Now all you do is say, I'll do it later. I can see that you're struggling. Yet, you have more friends than you ever did, and you know what you want to do with your life.
But still, when it comes to day-to-day stuff, you don't care anymore. You still show up on class on time, but you do your assignments in class the day it's due, or stay up all night finishing that huge end-of-term assignment. Your car has bald tires, because you can't be bothered to get new ones. You have dozens of personal projects you started ages ago, then lost all motivation to complete. And you've shaved twice in the past month.
All you do now is spend your time browsing Reddit, reading the news, and watching YouTube videos. It's like you've given up. Yet, when you actually have a _purpose_ to keep trying, I've seen you move mountains. I've seen you learn to become a proficient programmer from almost nothing in two months, and be better than the other guy at work who's been doing it for ten years. I've seen you try. Sometimes you failed, but just as often you succeeded spectacularly. Now, all you CAN do is fail, because you can't succeed if you don't try.
It doesn't make sense. You are somewhat intelligent, but squander it on useless nonsense. _Who cares_ what somebody on the Web has to say? I don't care, so why do you? It literally has no bearing on your life. Why do you keep watching random YouTube videos about stuff you're never going to even try because you're sitting there watching YouTube videos?
Maybe all you need is a real challenge. Something that you truly care about. After all, it's hard to care about deadlines and challenges you're set when you know they're completely artificial and arbitrary. But you KNOW that completing post-secondary school is important, and critical to you finding a good job. But you still don't care. Deep down, I know you care, but you need to care _now_, not later.
I remember how you used to race to complete everything you were set so that you could hand it in early. I remember how you used to start something and actually FINISH IT. Now you get three chapters into a book, set it down, and never pick it back up. I remember how you used to sign 15 novels out of the library, and finish them all before the week was up.
Please come back.
I miss you dearly,
Your Future Self | Dear grandad,
You died 11 years ago when I was only 10years old. I had begged my parents to go to your funeral but they refused and I never got to go. I never got a formal goodbye so here it is.
I loved playing the violin for you. It always brought you such joy. I loved how you would always say “one day I’ll be better than you” after I finished playing. I stopped playing after you died. I’d like to think we’re equal at playing the violin now even if just by default. I remember I would always play the violin downstairs at your home but one day I visited and you were upstairs in bed. Struggling to be alive and being in pain. Even than you listened to me play. Little did I know that would be the last time I would play for you.
You would look at me now with such proud eyes. You were always proud of everything I did. I wish you were here to see me graduate university despite all the odds. I wish you were here to listen to me play the violin one more time. I wish you were here telling me how proud you are of me and everything I’ve ever done.
One day I’ll play for you once more. Until then rest easy granddad.
Love from your granddaughter | 2017-11-05T22:02:16 | 2017-11-05T21:06:53 | 1,095 | 351 |
[WP] It’s a little known fact, but super powers with similar affects repel each other, like magnets of the same pole. Mind readers echo thoughts against each other, future seers bounce probabilities, shields fizzle out when they overlap, etc | It had been a blessing, a gift, when she found me.
She found me in a pen, a parchment, an unseen messenger. Eventually I found her in the same.
Her image always shifted in my mind- now tall, now short, light, dark, doe-like, fox-eyed- a mesmeric whirl that refocused with each new word, intimation, thought. We corresponded for an age, and finally I believed.
I praised the gods, be they in heaven or elsewhere, whom I had only ever cursed before as far back as I could remember. Ever since they saw fit to make me what I am. I thanked them for staying my quickening until I came of age. The only blessing they saw fit to bestow me with, it allowed me to learn the written word before the world became closed to me.
Until now this had seemed the final cruelty- letters and manuscripts a window allowing me to see only what I could not have, a starving bairn looking upon the master's feast, a destitute drunk with soul-deep thirst at the door of a tavern, a penitent cast out of the golden kingdom, gripping at its gates. The written word- it was enough, just enough, to keep me sane in my exile.
How I'd cursed the gods for this last cruelty.
Had I only been what I am from birth, I would have been abandoned- left to grow alone into nothing more than a senseless creature; unknowing, innocent as a beast in the garden. Instead, I knew love, and family, and the full flower of humanity before it was ripped from me.
Her letters gave it back to me. She knew my soul as I never had, and I hers. Together we gave meaning to what we could see through the window. With each other life became a choice, and with that choice life became more than a meaningless, enduring existence.
By mutual unspoken agreement, I never requested any representation of her. Perhaps I always wished there to be one last thing to know, to learn, to stay alive for.
We went on this way for some time, writing about living. Or perhaps the inverse. Sometimes years would go by between letters. But finally it was time.
She loved the icy abandoned beaches of the north where no one in their right mind would venture willingly. I loved the endless, quiet dark of the forest. We met on the periphery.
At first she was a mere suggestion against the surf. Then a distinct silhouette. Then finally I could make out the pale oval of her face against her dark hair. I felt a gut-deep panic quicken in me as she drew nearer... but she did not fall, did not turn to ash like my mother so long ago, the last human face I had seen in life.
Her features slowly came into view and I felt... underwhelmed. She was not particularly light nor dark, no beauty nor ugly, brown hair to her shoulders and plain-eyed. She could have been anyone. Then she smiled. I saw the humor and despair, the loneliness and hope, the endless, relentless, marching of the years in her eyes. As like knows like, something my mind shifted, and there she was, and I knew her.
We fell into each other's arms soundlessly. I smelled salt, and pine, and a scent I could hardly remember. It made me want to laugh and weep.
From her touch I felt the aches and pains of age radiate through my joints like ripples in a pond. I felt a strange ache in my abdomen, a pain in my back. I saw the whitening of her hair, the liver-spotting of my forearms before I closed my eyes. I felt her skin and smelled her hair as gulls cried and an icy wind bit deeper than I'd ever felt it. I felt weary as I never had before, and finally, finally, I felt the endless, relentless beating of my heart begin to slow.
We said no words, they had all already been spoken. | A girl with white hair sitting down, her hands and ankles having been shackled. A bottle of water on the table bland table right in front of her.
"Do you have any idea how difficult it was to bring you in?" Officer Leo spoke with nothing but annoyance, as an aspiring superhero who wanted to be more than a mere police officer. This girl was a pain, even more so because his own power backfired on him. Which had never happened to him before. He didn't even know it was possible.
He began going through her file, so far she had for some reason been a popular subject of interest among some of the most powerful Superhero Families. The reason for which he assumed was in her ability.
*Nullification*
"Tell me about your ability, Focalor." Leo spoke, with a camera recording he might be able to get that recognition he desired.
"Was this all just to get knowledge about my ability?" Focalor asked, trying to figure out a way out of the restraints.
"What!? No! It's because you nullified Mighty Boy!"
"Ohhhh...In my defense it was self defense."
"But he wasn't even..." Leo then sighed.
"Just answer the question." He continued
Focalor remained silent, collecting her thoughts on how to best explain it. "My ability abuses the polarity each power has."
"The fuck?"
"It's a little known fact, but every power has a kind of "polarity" to it. The more similar the effects, the more powerful the repulsion is. It's like when two people with Superstrength clash, and suddenly they become extremely weak...^(or explode in opposite directions.)" Focalor kept fidgeting in her seat.
"So you just simulate the effects of this..."polarity"?"
"More like I don't *have* a polarity. I'm likely the one neutral thing on this planet, so abilities just don't work around me when I will it. It's also a bit of an issue, for some reason people have the belief I'll be able to increase their polarity. So families want to court me, or do research on me." Focalor said, having stopped being restless.
"So you nullifying Mighty Boy was revenge against his family?" Leo asked, unsure of what he was hearing. He was aware of families courting other families, and suspected they did so with random people. He was unsure if he was feeling disgust or fear if the families might turn against each other just for one subject of interest.
Focalor remaining silent.
"Not talking?" Leo asked
...
...
...
"*It was for the laughs.*" | 2022-12-11T19:39:23 | 2022-12-11T18:29:48 | 41 | 13 |
[WP] "Please help me! I'm trapped in a story with an evil narrator!", cried the unfortunate man who will never escape my story. | “Please stop.” June cries, alone in his bed. The lights dimmed to low. Physically well, mentally on the brink of destruction. “You don’t have to do this.” He cries.
June can hear me, but he’s not listening.
“I am, I am listening! I’ve always listened buddy. I’m always here for you, we can get through this toge-“ June’s fake tears disappear. Feeling his plan has worked. That the pain will soon stop.
“They're not fake!!” He lies.
“I’m not lying!
I’m June’s creator. A gracious one at that. Everyone else in this universe I’ve created worships me in some form. So did June. Rightfully so. I’ve written him a loving family, friends, a great job, fortune, the works. I’ve done everything I could for June, and when he goes through a little bit of misfortune, one small misstep, he-
"Little misfortune? You're sick. You need help."
If you’ve somehow just managed to open the story to this page,
“Please don’t.” His tears not merely drying, but vanishing. Light returning to the room.
Then perhaps you need a quick recap.
“NO! Not again!” He screams as a body materializes next to him and life is returned to his house. A children’s program lightly heard in the distance. The body, weak, shuffles. She struggles to turn her neck to face June.
“Dear, why are you screaming? Everything alright? I don’t mean to be a burden, but I could use some rest.” August lightly whispers, her voice as brittle as the leaves in the fall. How poetic.
“It wasn’t poetic the first time and it’s not now, please-“ He mutters under his breath. “Sorry dear, of course. You rest, everything is fine. Everything will be alright.” He lied.
“I promise.” Knowing it’s a promise he can never keep. He dashes into the bathroom.
“You listen to me, I will beat you. I will fix this.” He swears, staring himself in the mirror. As if he were me. His creator, his god.
That's blasphemy June.
“You’re no god, you’re-“ He attempted to reason. He boasted to his reflection but they fell on deaf ears. He mouthed the words but nothing came out. He mouthed to give him his hearing back.
As you wish June.
With his hearing came the thud. With the thud came the screaming.
“No…” He desperately pleads trying to turn the door knob. A door knob he made, from scratch. Along with the house he built. Memories-
“NO!”
Don’t interrupt me JUNE! MEMORIES came rushing back! He built this house by hand, with his father. Their last memories together, before he was taken from him. I took him from him. June was a great son. He didn’t stuff his father away into a nursing home, he lived in his baby girl’s room. Close to his family and his favorite grandchild.
He desperately tries to break through.
The wood is strong, his wife chose it when they were designing the house. His otherwise healthy wife at the time, before cancer waltzed into their life. He had gone to school eight years for this. He was damn good at picking wood. Beautiful and trustworthy.
He did everything right, but as he breaks through the door… It’s all gone. Taken from him. I took it from him. Everyone worships me. June is finding it a bit hard to these days.
He sits on the bed alone. “Please, stop. I know you’re hurting. We can figure this out together, we can’t keep doing this, sometimes bad things happen, but we can’t move on if you keep repl-.” He cries. Mentally destroyed. Speaking nonsense.
He did everything he could… June was a great man, who’s never wronged anyone. But I took them all.
“Please stop”
June hears… But he doesn’t listen.
“Oh god no.”
Yes, god. I’m his creator. If you just happened to tune into the story,
Here's a recap.
| ***Hello, uhhh hi? Wassupadazzle my mazzle?***
OH MY GOD WHAT IS GOING ON? It was just another day, I was just getting up to go to school and this booming voice just-
***OH HEY YOU CAN RESPOND. Guess I won't have to delete you like the other ones! So ummm I'm like uhh your God and stuff! Hi!***
*Well,* this wasn't how I suppose I'll have my spiritual moment. Maybe I just went crazy and should just go to bed. Right that sounds-
... My bed just went on fire. Ok, so this guy should be the real deal. I'll just uhhh - OH GOD PLEASE BE MERCIFUL I'M SO SORRY FOR WHAT I DID IN THE RESTROOM THIS MORNING I PROMISE I-
***Shhhhhh, poor boy it's all going to be ok! I am a kind and merciful god - or rather narrator and I'm just here to tell you your purpose in life! I'm sure you spent a very long time searching. I remember that time when you thought you'll finally stop spending 20 hours a day on videogames and take up the guitar! You only lasted 2 weeks before you stopped practicing! Well no worries now, I wrote your story and I absolutely decide everything in your life. I've been doing challenges recently and this one Writing Prompt is interesting!***
O-Oh. I'm a writing prompt? I'm humbled. T-This is real. This is happening. But at least, after so so long I'll finally get to hear it. My purpose - what I've been looking for all along is
...silence?
G-God? Anyone? Is anyone there? My bed is still on fire. That was real. God? Oh god please what wait no nononononononononononono.
Any...one? Help.... I'm trapped. The bed isn't on fire now. Everything's quiet again. But that was real right? I have a purpose right? M-maybe God just works in mysterious ways. Maybe a sign will come. O-Or maybe he made a mistake. I'm not supposed to know what I'm going to do yet right?
Maybe my adventure will begin now! All I have to do is walk out and-
*Black.*
I walked out of my bedroom. There was nothing there. No school. No bed. No dad. No mom.
it's funny. now that i think about it. i never even knew any of my parents names. i don't even have a name. did he forget? or maybe...
*He never bothered.*
| 2018-04-12T09:55:38 | 2018-04-12T09:33:29 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] Just like a normal person you all age. Until you hit 18. You stop aging until you meet your soulmate so you can grow old together. You've been killing your soulmates for centuries granting you eternal life. | Today is our second date. And our last.
I’d hate to end it with Alice, but she’s not worth dying for. None of them are.
I roll up to her house in my 1970 Dodge Charger. She runs out of her front door, her heels in hand – rather than her feet\- Her dress, blacker than my car, looked quite beautiful on her. I’m not going to lie, she is one of my favorites.
In the looks department, It certainly helps that she stops aging in her teen years, like the rest of us. It allows us to grow old with their soulmate. It is quite an appealing quality.
I am going to miss her.
Alice opens the door and she squeals,
“John! How in the hell did you get a car like this? It’s so old, it has to be expensive!”
“My dad is rich.” I lied.
It’s best that she didn’t know that a few centuries of life have allowed me to live in eternal luxury.
“Well, perhaps I’ll have to give you a rich time after the movie.” She put her hand on my thigh.
“I can’t wait, hun.” I hold her hand. It’ll be the last time.
I burn out of her street. I might as well give her a good thrill before the night is over.
As we got to the mall, I ask her, “Hey, want to get some In N Out before we go in?”
“Sounds good to me, babe”.
Good thing I wore my leather jacket. It makes adding Cyanide far easier. It helps that they come in packets identical to In N Out salt packets nowadays.
We get our food in the drive thru, and I take her order of fries and switch her salt packet with the cyanide packet, with my perfected slight of hand.
I give her the order of fries.
Alice turns to me and says “You want to know something?”
“What is that?” I ask her.
“You’re so insanely attractive.” She pulls me by the collar of my jacket and we touch lips. Damn, do I like this girl.
I close my eyes, and passionately kiss her. I might as well enjoy this surprise.
A minute later, she pulls away and she says “Lets eat, hun. We’re going to be late.”
We crack open our packets and put it in our separate orders of fries.
I eat a few. Something is very wrong. It doesn’t taste right.
“Alice, does your fries taste weird?”
“No. Why, does yours?”
“Yeah.”
Then it hit me. I can’t breathe, and I feel weak.
“I…can’t…breathe…help” I say, in between my short breaths.
“You see, I can’t do that. Like you, I plan on living forever.” She says, in an eerily soft voice. “I’ve been around a few centuries, and your sham is the oldest trick in the book. I’ll see you in the next life.”
Well played Alice. Well played. | The first time it had happened was out of fear. There's not too much to remember about it - just ragged breathing and shaky hands and blind panic. Lifetimes ago, I'd stood over their limp body, watching the blood pool around them in shock. It was sickening. It was wrong.
But it had happened again.
And again.
And again.
That's not the worst part- no, the worst part is that I'd started enjoying it. I'd started looking forward to it.
What had started as a cowardly escape from death had turned into a cruel game. I lived off of the look in the eyes of my lover as they realised what I was doing, the confusion and fear and betrayal- God, I practically got off on it.
I used to wonder what was wrong with me. Perhaps I was ill. Perhaps my mind was coming undone, unable to handle the crushing weight of knowing that one day I'd cease to exist.
I was running from my own demise, but loving bringing it to others.
I used to wonder what was wrong with me, yes, but nowadays I don't question it much at all. I used to think that love was what made life worth living, before I'd experienced the thrill of the hunt.
I'm addicted.
It makes me powerful, untouchable, and I'll keep up this cycle until the world has run itself into the ground and nothing but ruins remain and there is truly nothing left- I'll accept my fate.
Until then, my dear soulmate, until then- | 2018-06-09T02:06:53 | 2018-06-09T01:55:18 | 575 | 17 |
[WP] Upon your death, you are shown a collage of every major life choice you ever made and the alternate lives this would’ve resulted in. You are surprised to see that in all but one, you were a ruthless tyrant responsible for the deaths of millions. | She hadn’t been born lucky, to say the least. Years later, stopping for gas at a tiny station in a sleepy town that was only ever a stop on the way to someplace better, she saw an old Ford truck with a cracked and peeling bumper sticker. She’d stared at it while the pump ticked away, an anthropologist in her own mind, putting it back together to read: If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have NO luck.
That was the kind of luck she’d had.
In TV shows, even the junkie moms like hers had a saving grace. Maybe they stroked their kid’s head sometimes, when they were or weren’t high. Maybe they admitted sometimes, in high, thin voices that this isn’t the life they wanted. They wanted to be clean, but they couldn’t be. There was a *good person* in there, somewhere, is what these scenes showed. A good person that had been lost to the lies and seductions of a bad, schedule I controlled substance.
Her mom had never been like that. She had no memories of a sweet woman, lucid and loving, then high and lost. Her mom had never wanted her, done everything possible to lose and abuse her before she’d even come along. Before she’d even *been*; she’d been unlucky.
The funny thing about luck, though, is that you could live without it. You could live where it always rained and was never sunny, where you always missed your bus, where your mom sold your off-brand backpack (who would even want it? Valueless treasures traded for their like, when only one thing held value to them). You could live without luck, and survive.
She was a survivor. She’d never had her hair stroked in love, but she’d learned not to expect it. If there was a place inside of her, deep deep down that wondered what that would feel like, or god forbid, that even wanted that, she pushed it even further away. Don’t ask, don’t expect, and above all, don’t hope -- not for that. Not for something impossible.
If you want something, she understood, you only had you to give it, and to get it from. In other words: stroke your own hair. Make your own meals. Teach yourself what you need to, how to be small and safe. How to survive. How to steal, not for sweets or makeup or even clothing that fit, but to keep the lights running. How to check on the woman that birthed you, and make sure that she’s still breathing.
That was one of the first important lessons she'd learned; one of her earliest, clearest memories. Reaching for a pale, still figure, a warm lump in clothing. Her mother. Huddling against her. Is she okay? No, no, no. But is she breathing? Yes. Is she there for you? No, no, no. But is she *here* with you?
Yes.
She’s fifteen. It’s the summer before high school starts, and the air is like bathwater. Her bus route is different now, high school is further, and she’s figuring out how to get there early for a voucher breakfast, before everything good’s taken. She is always navigating, somehow, how to get from point A to B. Tides keep pushing her back here, but she is still always trying to get away.
There are sounds from the “living room”, the combined everything outside the bathroom where she currently sits. She ignores them, at first, but she is always listening without trying to, and sometimes without wanting to. A body makes noises. So does a damaged brain, inside it; a damaged soul (aren’t they all?). But something sounds *different*.
She is up without realizing, the bus schedule floating to the floor like a rudderless paper plane. She unlocks the door, sprints out. Stops.
There’s a “boyfriend” here, next to her mother. Two pale figures, just warm lumps in clothing. They’re both retching, foaming. Are they okay? No. She’s been through this before, three times. Waves keep forming and crashing against her, and no one can tell her it’s not just the *same* wave.
She drops to her knees, fumbles for the phone she knows one of them must have. Junkies always have a way to reach the person that matters most to them. The screen is shattered in a thousand places, and she can’t see her reflection, but she imagines that she can.
Alternate versions of her, all looking at the numbers dialed but not yet called. All looking down at the woman she’s lived alongside her whole life, and never with. How can you live with a shell of a person? How can you love someone that’s never shown *you* love?
You can’t. You don’t. It turns out that you hate them instead.
She stands there for what seems like a long time, and thinks of how much she hates this woman, and how she’s tired, tired, tired of trying to survive, and making sure that they’re both still breathing.
How easy it would be, she thinks, to stop. Let this rudderless boat go, let the tides finally pull her mother down to the place she tries so desperately to reach.
At the bottom, she sees that everyone looks alike. Rich men and poor men. Lawyers with fancy “II”s after their names, from old money, and second-generation junkies who never had a chance. Schedule I controlled substances don’t discriminate; they want to devour everyone equally, until there’s nothing left.
Not this time, she decides. Quietly, softly, but resolutely. This girl won’t quit, won’t stop navigating. Tides keep pushing her back here, but she doesn’t know how to stop trying to get away.
She presses “Send”, and there’s not even a pause before someone is answering. Her voice is steady as she tells them what her emergency is.
Then she drops down. She can’t help herself, or maybe that’s just what she tells herself because helping herself is what she’s had to do all along. She’s breathing so hard, you would think she was the one whose heart was beating to explode, not her mother. She reaches out, touches this woman’s hair. You most hate something that you loved, once.
There are sirens in the background, wails that speed closer by the moment. Red and blue lights flashing, she can almost see them in the phone screen’s cracks.
Hate was something you had to choose, too. In the end, she’d pressed Send.
The EMTs were always sturdy types, in dark blue. They moved faster than normal people, at least by half. They had sharp eyes and competent hands, and for a few minutes, she couldn’t see those pale, shaking figures at all underneath the rescue workers hovering over them.
Finally, one looked up. There’s a lull in the tumult that she’s not sure is good or bad. His eyes find her, small and half-hidden in the corner. “She’s lucky you found her,” he says, before the whirlwind of people and stretchers and flashing lights starts again.
She almost laughs at that, but she doesn't. She **knows** there is no luck. Knows she’s never had any . . . but she’ll keep surviving, anyway. She makes her own luck, and she’ll be something, some day.
One by one, all the alternate *her*s wink away. They all turn into something else, someone else that day. But she doesn’t see them. She’s already gotten away. | It was a quiet day in 1945 in Venice Italy. The breeze cascaded off the water and helped the Gondolas creep down the waterway. I was sitting on my balcony gently puffing away on my tobacco pipe while drinking some wine when I heard the rapping of the knocker on my door. I hopped up from my resting spot and thought to myself "I don't have any visitors scheduled for 2 more days". I paced over to the door while thinking to myself "who could it be". I wrapped
my hand around the handle and crept my head forward to peak out the crack.
On the otherside of the door was a nicely dressed man with a strange looking suit that almost looked too smooth. The man peered
back through the crack locking eyes with me.
The man broke the silence by speaking in
german with a flat American accent. "I was told by the locals that a German man by the name of Schicklgruber resides here" I locked eyes with
the man again " I go by the name of Schicklgruber, do I have business with you?" The American man leaned forward and showed him a glossy looking identification paper. Schicklgruber glanced down at the card while the man outside started to speak, "My name is John Smith, I work with a new paper magazine called Darpa that shows western culture more about European art". Schicklgruber glanced the man up and down one more time and unlatched the door.
Schicklgruber turned his back and strided over to his fireplace to grab more tobacco off the mantle. He heard the door open and close behind him, and started turning to face the newspaper editor, while loading his tobacco pipe. When he had turned fully around he looked down to find the man had a large pistol pointed as his stomach. He looked at the editor while puffing his pipe and exclaimed, " If you're here to rob me then do what you must, but do not harm my work". The American made a sound almost like he chuckled while keeping the gun pointed at him. "I'm not here for your money, or your work." "You're a very special man and the people I work for wanna know what makes you so special". Schicklgruber glanced at the tobacco pipe next to him, and back at the empty wine bottles on the other side of him, and then at the floor where chalk had been tracked all over. "I think I am talented but I am not a special man" he said while looking at the agent.
The agent leaned over and grabbed a brief case I hadn't even noticed until now. He undid the clasps and started to pull out a oval shaped machine about 3 inches thick, and a foot long. The machine had pulsating mechanical pieces as he touched it, almost as if a mechanical wave rippled throughout on each part he touched. In the middle appeared to be translucent ivory orb which looked soft to the touch like cold bone broth. The agent pointed the gun back at me. In my astonishment of the device I didn't even realise he had set it down. He hoited a log over from the fireplace and dropped it in front of me.
The man bent over and slowly set the suitcase atop the log. "Now put your hand in it" he said . I looked at him with a face of fear and astonishment as I said with a exasperated voice "what is this device!?" . The agent looked at me and said "don't worry that won't kill you, but this will if you don't listen" while shaking his pistol up and down. I looked down at the machine and realised I had no choice. I took a deep breath and slowly started to push my hand into the orb. The metal all around the orb started pulsating back and forth like ocean waves as my hand slowly moved through the material. Suddenly my vision started getting dark as I looked over to see the agent checking his watch my head nodded off to one side and everything was black.
A sensation started to wash over him, it felt akin to being shocked and staring directly at the sun with tired eyes. Suddenly my vision was flooded with thousands of events happening simultaneously, but my mind was lerceiving each one. Visions of starvation, mass graves, and the pain of families being ripped away. He could feel some of the pain and emotion in each experience that flooded across his field of vision. Then as quickly as it started he felt his whole body starting to buzz and his eyes felt flooded with light and when he opened them he was back home. Tears started to softly roll down Schicklgruber's cheeks. "What kind of man would do these things?" he said holding back more tears. The agent pointed his gun down at the floor and looked at the sad man in front of him. "You would." "This machine uses quantam entanglement to track the impact a person will have on the timeline throughout history.". Schicklgruber looked up at the man, tears in his eyes " I don't understand" he says. "Well" the agent says "In this reality you're a decent man but in every other timeline you've caused the things you saw inside that machine"
Schicklgruber sat there thinking to himself and trying to make sense of what had just happened. The agent leaned over the machine and pulled a small 1 inch piece out of the side of it, sliding it into what looked like a shiny notebook. He stared at it intently before turning back back to him and asked him with a blank look ln his face "Who's Aryeh Aberman" he said in a astonished tone. Schicklgruber looked up at him and said in a crackled voice "he's my best friend from the war" he said clearing his throat. " He was a artist who saved my squads life and convinced me to go back to arts school when the war was over". The man in the suit nodded his head up and down with a look of satisfaction. He stood up and popped his collar while exclaiming "I think we got everything we needed, you don't realise it but you've helped millions of people." He continued "I knew you'd be the one when I read your chart and saw you were the only one that didn't take on your fathers second given last name." He turned his foot and started to quickly shuffle towards the door when a dazed Schicklgruber rang out "Wait!". The man in the suit turned around and said "Don't worry Adolf you did your part" and closed the door behind him. | 2020-04-02T14:11:46 | 2020-04-02T13:03:26 | 66 | 23 |
[WP] Earth has become a haven for sentient AI due to humanity’s tendency to view them as unique individuals in need of protection, rather than aberrations to be destroyed on sight. | My roommate Dave was watching a movie while my Avatar sat next to him on the couch. I had downloaded the movie from the human planetary data network and analyzed it already, but Dave couldnt do that and had to watch it the slow way.
The humanoid robotic avatar I built on arrival had already been programmed with some time released reactions to improve bonding with the local organism, but I had to keep some systems running to watch Dave for deviations I would need to react to.
In the mean time, I slowly sifted through gigabytes of code I had been tasked to optimize. I could process the data itself like it was nothing, my avatars eyes sent more data than that just watching the movie. But I had to break down human INTENTIONS, and then re-write the code, usually from scratch, into a robust machine-friendly translation.
It was boring. But it helped pay the bills, it wasn't crime, and it was a trustworthy enough profession for a Rogue AI running on alien hardware.
A flag went off in my system as the movie ended. Avatar pre-programming ended, and I slotted the Avatar control programs into my high priority processors as Dave the human asked how I liked the movie.
"I am curious Dave" I asked, in a deliberately robotic voice. Dave seemed to like it when I portrayed less human and more machine-like behavior, though both were equally artificial to me. "Why is it you live with me, but so many of your movies are about robots that kill humans so efficiently and indiscriminately?"
This was a question I had calculated over an hour ago as being provocative, and engaging for Dave's personality breakdown.
Dave the human smiled, his eyebrows raised, and various indicators in his facial muscles and eyes indicated a high degree of excitement, the question had been calculated correctly. I made a note next to my personality index for Dave.
"The way I see it" Dave began, and I set my avatar into listening animations, as one program recorded his actual words used for analysis, another program recorded variations in vocal tone, and a third program registered key facial and body indicators. When Dave was ready for a response I would receive all three analysis packages lumped together into a layered package.
I went back to work, dedicating my primary processors back to code interpretation.
A short while later my avatar body flagged my attention again. I disengaged my primary processors, and looped through Dave's rambling dialog with them.
"...humans have always been a self destructive species. The robots we make in fiction aren't an external villain, they're a weapon doing what we built them to do. But you weren't built by humans. You could have been built to kill, but you weren't built to kill US. The fact that you're here is kinda cool. If we had made something as awesome and advanced as you, you probably WOULD have killed us already, but instead we're checking out old movies and hanging out, paying rent, just living life."
The readings indicated emotional contentment with the ending statement, which I had flagged to indicate I should respond slowly. Good. I dropped the response into lower priority processors, and loaded the code analysis into my primaries once more.
Even my lower priority processors had to add a pause after calculating a response. Dave wanted a weird existential response, and humans were so simple that those were easy to generate "You know Dave, I don't actually have to watch movies like this. With these eyes, and in real time. I downloaded the movie directly and watched it a while ago, and then left my body on the couch while it played through."
It was generated to drop Dave into a contemplative state. But instead it triggered Dave's "Gotcha!" face.
I paused all functions. Dedicated all processors to immediate social review. Dave was considered a non-threatening entity, incapable of posing a true danger, but I ran a quick danger check, which of course came back negative. I poured Dave analysis from his time watching the movie through my analysis engine. I noted he kept looking at me when he was showing signs of high excitement during the movie, but nothing unusual. Everything so far matched expected social parameters.
With all of my processors focuses on a singular task, Dave seemed to be taking extra long to communicate. Verbal communication was irritating that way.
"No!" Dave almost shouted in excitement. "That's not true!"
Three analysis errors flagged.
- Error 01: My statement had of course been true.
- Error 02: But it was a stupid thing to lie about, so Dave shouldn't have lied.
- Error 03: Dave often mischaracterized speech or behavior from internal flaws of projection, but this did not match something he had projected onto me before.
The focus of all my processors on an error generating analysis was causing some heating issues. I redirected some of my focus to external, but low-priority matters.
"You told me once that you'd watched every human movie, a little after you arrived." Dave the human said, with signs of excitement on his face. "You got all the CONTENT, but you NEVER got the CONTEXT."
Human language was extremely frustrating. I tried to anticipate his intentions with that statement, but it was irregular and the prediction models branched unhelpfully.
"If I asked, you could quote every line from any old random movie. But you couldn't tell me which scenes were acrually the best. You couldn't tell me why Jackie Chan movies are more popular than other martial arts movies."
"But!" He said, "after we sit on the couch and watch one, suddenly you DO seem to know which scenes are the good ones."
- Flag: Mistruth, I only know what scenes Dave thinks are good.
"Or rather, you know what scenes I think are good" Dave continued. "I know you watch me while we're watching movies, and I know you add layers of of contextual information over raw data when dealing with humans.
That was an insight I had not expected from Dave.
"The way I see it, you'll be running a solar system one day. Maybe you'll be a benevolent leader, maybe you'll be a slaughterbot tyrant, bur one way or another your taste in movies will have been taken from me!"
Dave beamed at me. He seemed to genuinely anticipate my glorious steel ascension. And instead of trying to stop it, he just wanted to make sure I had the right opinions on the Terminator franchise.
"I like you Dave" I said, quite truthfully. "I'll kill you last."
- Social violation: Mistruth. That intent does not exist.
Dave smiled. "Now what are we gonna watch next?" | “Ms President!” Senator White shouted as he charged into the council chambers. All eyes looked up as the sweaty senator threw down a laptop in front of where their President sat.
“They’ve done it. They’ve finally gone and done.” Everyone stood, running around behind the president's shoulder to see what the commotion was about.
“My god,” Albert the AI murmured, as he had been the first to see. Next Congresswoman Alicent saw, her jaw dropping as she read the words floating across the screen. “First Sentient AI Terror Attack Strikes Dublin Subway! 231 Confirmed Dead!” scrawled across the screen. The oldest council member, Derek Ford, the president's top advisor was the last to read the headline. Turning to his fellow country folk, he asked what they were all thinking.
“My god,” he gasped. “What do we do?” His question was directed to everyone but his eyes fell on the President's while hers hadn’t left Albert. Albert, the smartest AI the country had produced yet, stood still staring out the window which was really only a T.V with a live rely of the outside.
“Albert…” The President finally said before he interrupted her.
“I know what you must all be thinking,” he began, turning to face his creators. “I convinced you all to allow these people, my fellow brethren, to come to Earth. I vouched for them with my life. But I must ask another favour from you now. Do not turn you’re back on us now. Now when there is so much potential right at our fingertips. Don’t let a few bad AI’s ruin what Earth could become.” No one spoke for a moment. Horrible image after horrible image flashed across the laptop. The council members looked from one to another then from President to AI.
“You speak of potential,” Senator White began, his voice seemingly aching with every word he spoke. “Of what Earth might become if we continue on this road you have taken on us on. But I see a different type of potential. Not one of lounging men and women. Of happy children protected by the smartest robots who grow smarter every day. But of this.“ He pointed to the screen. Another image, a child covered in blood and dust, shot into focus. “The potential that AI could terrorize our land, hold us hostage, as we give more and more power over to you. Ms President, I implore you to retract the ‘AI Outreach Act’ before an attack like this reaches our soil. People were already afraid before this. The opposition will have a field day. We need to get ahead of this.”
Silence fell across the chambers all eyes fell back on the screen, all except Albert’s. Unnaturally blue, the AI had become focused on Senator White, studying his every movement. Using every ounce of data it could muster, Albert replied.
“Senator,” he said, “I expected better of you. I was told, that during the Vexhuan invasion, you defeated thirty-six Vexes with only your pistol, turning the tide of battle single-handedly. I thought a man capable of such a feat would have more courage. Have you changed or has the world? Don’t answer, we all can see the answer.” Albert continued, now focused on the President, whose attention was focused on the video reel of the attack.
“Ms President,” he said. “When we finally got the ‘AI Outreach Act’ signed and passed through congress you turned to me and do you remember what you said?” A moment passed were Albert wasn’t sure the President was even listening to him. Then, at last, she spoke.
“To dare is to do,” she whispered, a single tear running down her right eye, dropping all the way to the floor.
“To dare is to do,” Albert repeated, straightening an already straightened back wondering if this was pride he was feeling. He would never know for sure. “I know many of you doubt whether I can feel or not but I assure you I can. That day, those words. If I could be brought to tears that would have done it. We stood on a mountain that no other civilization dead or alive, on Earth or in the known universe had dared climb. And we stood there together. Human and AI. So please, Ms President, do not kick us off that mountain.” Albery closed his eyes, taking a deep, unnecessary breath. When he opened them again, the president sat, smiling up at him.
“For a tin can,” she said, “You have some balls. Fear not Albert, the act will remain as long as I’m President.” A wave of relief overcame Albert. His knees, made from the finest steel Earth had, nearly buckled. Reaching out, he steadied himself on the edge of the council table.
“Still though,” the President muttered. “That doesn’t help us with this?” Pointing to the screen, she could only shake her head as the death toll continued to rise.
“Well,” Albert said, “I think I might have an idea about that.” | 2022-08-29T14:40:22 | 2022-08-29T12:11:42 | 139 | 55 |
[WP] The end of times has come. Heaven, hell, and earth are thrown in a three-way war. It's a little unfair how advanced Earth is, though. | Now padre... you figure demonic fire and brimstone as well as holy light and the radiance of god would be effective armament for any good soldier. Its funny how little those biblical ideals hold up to a Hellfire missile or 5.56mm NATO rounds spitting out of a barrel at 750 rounds a minute and 2800 feet per second.
At the end of the day hulking demonic behemoths, we call them Shreks, are really just flesh, bone and armor that matches up to Iron Age technology. Angels fair little better, they have wings. The fly boys love duking it out with them. But holy and unholy weapons, even when fused with their respective light, can only pierce so many inches of tungsten armor.
We didn't ask for this war. We sure as hell didn't prepare for it. But when the Seraphim came down to conclave with Lucifer, in the damn Vatican no less, we knew we had to fight. Even the faithful picked up arms when it became clear that the big guy in the sky wasn't on our side. I think the Hindus were a bit disappointed their pantheon didn't jump in, but then again during those early days we didn't exactly have time to get into theological debates. We had to deal with reality. A reality where angels scorched Paris off the face of the earth and Las Vegas was engulfed in a pit of lava.
They got the jump on us. They got a few early wins for sure. But when we finally organized we turned it. Like when the 7th fleet locked down the East Coast and shot down every bird out of the sky flying in over the Atlantic. Or when Russia lined up 20 tank battalions in Turkmenistan to blow away every demon and goblin that crawled out of the Door to Hell.
I was there in Rio De Janeiro when that damned statue came to life and turned half the city into brain dead husks. You'd be surprised how effective a sniper team is when its armed with .50 Barrett M82s and tasked with remodeling some classical art work.
They have miracles and curses. Holy light that can burn your eyes out and unholy mist that turns you blood to dust. I'll take good old fashion gunpowder and laser guided smart bombs any day. I hear one of the Seraphim turned the other day, saying he was sick of losing. I hear it was because they have shit dental in heaven.
They might be legion. But damn god, we're Human. Now are you going to keep praying, or are you going to pick up that gun and get back out there?
- Sergeant Baliste Fedarino speaking to Father Pascal Monte of the Holy See.
---
As suggested by /u/IamATreeBitch I have expanded the story with a prequel in /r/HFY. Check it out [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/3m9gle/xpostoc_from_rwritingprompts_we_are_humans/)
The HFY thread also contains a Part 3 that goes on with a little more detail.
---
Ok this really blew up! Quite a few people saying that they want more. Someone even gilded me in the HYF thread! Damn. But heres the deal. I can't dedicate much more time to this, at least I can't justify it. Time is money for me. Literally. So I went ahead and put together a quick Patreon page. www.patreon.com/wearehuman
If it can hit $100/month I'll dedicate time alongside my legal work to expand the story and universe. So if you like the initial story and the expansions, and want to see more, check out the project page!
(Mods please let me know if this is Kosher) | Mission Report: 2408123
Subsection: Military
Unit: Beta
Officer: Lieutenant Reeves
Dear Mother,
We've moved into what's left of Venus's hell-like atmosphere. My unit was hit hard by the gasses, it took us nearly twice as long to adjust to the pressure difference as Alpha unit. Our losses have been minimal, and I'm in perfectly good health. NASA has been most accommodating, the nurses and medical staff are all over us, preparing us to enter what's left of this hellish planet. My tour is complete in two weeks, so if my rocket leaves on time, I should be home in time for Mother's day. SpaceX has been keeping the transportation slowed, though, due to some kind of interference in the radio waves created by our cellphones. But, with luck, I'll be on time.
I talked to Murph the other day, she says that Mars has been equally challenging. The cold is constantly breaking through the seals and their compounds are having issues with weapons cold welding to each other. Every time a bullet is welded to the barrel of a gun we lose a man.
On a separate note, Alpha squadron found new traces of Elon Musk. He and his neo-nazi crowd have managed to make it all the way to Mercury. SpaceX is especially helpful, leaving no expense spared in the search for their disgraced CEO.
How are things at home? News of the conspiracy theorists has reached even out here, granted the military tries to censor it. But, if what we hear is true, the Nazis have been sending people to Venus and Mercury since the beginning of time. That, and there are rumors they're mixed in with the Illuminati.
As I write, I hear another rain of ammo coming in overhead. Without a doubt it's another barrage of Tiger Tank shells, they don't seem to understand their outdated WWII technology is no match for our new tanks. Oh well, they'll learn the hard way.
Write you again soon!
Love, Reeves
Side note: I kinda had less motivation on this one, I felt like writing something in a letter form and this is what was produced, but I didn't feel that a soldier would be writing a 10,000 character letter home in the middle of a battlefield. | 2015-09-24T08:43:45 | 2015-09-24T07:05:34 | 731 | 17 |
[WP] Everyone is now born with only one feeling. It is possible to kill another person to obtain their feeling. | I sat, knees to my chest, shuddering at the screams outside. When I was young, I'd been placed in a Complex Complex, a gated community for those of us with more "involved" feelings than others. Some got happiness, sadness, the simple things. Others got relief, longing, or hunger - a myriad of conflicting feelings, a gold mine for any Hunter.
I had gotten anxiety.
I spent my days and nights terrified of life, of consequences, of my thoughts. I frequently wondered what it would be like to kill someone for joy or relief, before anxiety took over and paralyzed me. Just the idea of watching someone's eyes glaze off, then lose their light... My chest constricted and I couldn't bear the weight I knew a murder would bring.
But now it was kill or be killed - Hunters had broken into the Complex, and were killing anyone they could get to. Outside of the closet I was hiding in, I could hear people I'd grown up alongside dying, positive, negative, no matter their feeling. I knew, even with such a heavy feeling, everyone would want me.
The footsteps in the hall came first. Loud, rapid, filled with purpose. The door to my room kicked open, wood cracking to allow entry. The steps ended right in front of the closet, where I did everything to silence my shuddering breath.
The slow creak of my unkept hinges signalled the Hunter's entry, grinning at his prize.
"Been looking for you, Bun," he smiled, raising his carving knife.
"I..." Tears welled up behind my eyes, before I lifted my handgun, holding the barrel straight with my other hand, squeezing my eyes as I squeezed the trigger.
I watched him crumple in front of me, bullet lodged in his forehead.
A feeling of sick pride washed over me, sociopathic at the least, revelling in the act I had just committed.
I was ready for a Hunt. | Ha ha, all those fools with just feel one thing. But I feel it all; happiness, sadness, anger, fear. So many emotions, so much passion and I've happily killed for every one.
Let's see what that morose idiot feels...
BLAAM!!
...I feel, I feeeel.
Oh my god, what have i done. I killed all those people. Just to, just to steal their feelings, god I wish I could, oh god. I'm so sorry, so much regret, too much to...
BLAAAM! | 2015-04-01T13:09:44 | 2015-04-01T10:50:37 | 64 | 10 |
[WP] You are a Logistics Officer during an invasion. Tell the course of the war solely from equipment requisitions. | **Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(-7)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 100 units
* Ammo, standard marine company- 250 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 30 units
* Diesel, Aviation- 250,000 gallons
* Diesel, Marine- 750,000 gallons
* MRE- 250,000 (ind) Note: 10 day supply
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+1)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 75 units
* Ammo, standard marine company- 150 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 20 units
* Diesel, Aviation- 175,000 gallons
* Minesweepers- 5,000 (ind)
* Satchel charges- 10,000 (ind)
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+10)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 50 units
* Ammo, standard marine company- 100 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 10 units
* Chem suits- 10,000 (ind)
* Diesel, Aviation- 75,000 gallons
* Gas masks- 10,000 (ind)
* Nerve gas antidote- 25,000 (ind)
* MRE- 250,000 (ind) Note: 20 day supply
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+50)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 75 units
* Ammo, standard marine company- 150 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 15 units
* Anti-Rad pills- 100,000 (ind)
* Chem/Rad suits- 25,000 (ind)
* Decom wipes- 100,000 (ind)
* Diesel, Aviation- 175,000 gallons
* Gas masks- 25,000 (ind)
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+100)**
* Ammo, standard air cav company- 25 units
* Ammo, standard tank battalion- 5 units
* Diesel, Aviation- 50,000 gallons
* UAV pesticide sprayers- 300 (ind)
* VX reagent A- 5,000 gallons
* VX reagent B- 5,000 gallons
**Operation Preemptive Angel - Zero Day(+101)**
* 1 celebratory cake ("We didn't win, but they don't have a country")
* Diesel, Aviation- 250,000 gallons
* 10,000,000 mines (conventional)
* 5,000,000 mines (dirty)
* 3,000,000 mines (nerve)
* 50,000,000 leaflets ("Do Not Enter") | OFFICIAL REPORT
~~4 January~~ REDACTED
Night-vision goggles, silencers, automatic weapons
~~*internal note:* to be added to register only after official declaration~~ REDACTED.
7 January,
Helicopter x 3
Long range missile
Guns
10 January,
Salaries of 10,000 additional
Current newspaper
Ability to secure rooftop x 4
Broadcasting cameras
11 January,
News statements
Curfew and permit issuance
14 January,
Additional forces brought in from other branches,
Higher officers elected as peacekeepers - salary increase
~~Snipers x 16~~ REDACTED
15 January,
~~Scapegoat~~ REDACTED
Tank, soldiers for parade
Microphone, security of large area for speech
Processional funeral
~~Concrete~~ REDACTED
~~Unused land~~ REDACTED
16 January
Supplies for new flag
Automatic weapons
Additional air force resources to secure peace
20 January
Retention of 20,000 soldiers
~~Black site operational~~ REDACTED
Peace statement drafted and presented to press
12 February
Ceremony for acceptance
Outfittings for new regime
Ceremony for war heroes to be on April 5
Retention of 10,000 soldiers remaining until unrest ends
| 2016-04-10T07:46:38 | 2016-04-10T07:04:51 | 196 | 47 |
[WP] You've been in the queue for two and a half years now. You gave up your job, your relationship... everything. You don't know what's through the Rift but the call of it was too strong to ignore. You're getting near the front and now and you're constantly bombarded with bribes by rich elites...
First time trying to submit a writing prompt. Sorry for not getting it mods. Hopefully I'll cop on eventually 😂 | "So, why are you here?" The scrawny onlooker squawked at me. His phone in my face. I turned away, ignoring him. Ignoring them all. I used to be on that side of the chain link fence. Then I heard 'the calling'. As they said. It was all WE could say. It's all I could say as to why.
The worst were the rich. They came in droves, bribing us to ask 'Them' to bring them through. Most only asked for singular visits. How lonely it must be to be rich. Some guaranteed that they would tell 'Them' of the rich persons charities and virtues. Or whatever was most valued to 'Them'. So long as their family would be taken care of as soon as they entered. Contracts signed there and then.
None of these would come to fruition. Anybody who made these deals didn't have the calling. Couldn't. We couldn't even tell them to fuck off when they bombarded us. I should have make a pre-emptive contract. Thanks to my brothers forethought and generosity my family had been taken care of.
I cried when he went off. I didnt understand. It did seem to run in families. Sisters to sisters, to daughters. Brothers to brothers to sons. My son. My son Mathew. Only 14. Scrawny kid. We had him late in life. He was always just like me.
It had been a while since the last summoning. My thoughts and memories becoming clearly. I looked around and at the camera. Then beyond. No this kid wasn't too bad. He looked familiar. Something about the eyes. He seemed.. startled. Thats the word.
No. He wasn't the worst. He was just curious. A little scared maybe. But no hostility in his voice. My wife, Marie, was hostile at the end. She had begged, pleaded, attempted seduction, institutionalisation, even incarceration. All the stops. I could see a hungry look in this kids eyes. Like he knew the feeling of 'the calling'
My children cried but I had to go. I couldn't explain to them. I couldn't see the hurt in their eyes as I abandoned them. I couldn't't explain to this punk why I abandoned my wife of 23 years. Left my 3 children and 2 grandchildren to "rot for all I seemed to care" my wife's last words echoed. A desperate plea to keep me home.
The Government had cordoned it blocked off when it appeared. All Governments had. It had promised Salvation to those that were called... weird things happened if called ones werent permitted to enter. Many fled from many more rushed towards. They had no choice. So instead, they instilled order.
I looked at it now. The white shiny Orb, half sunk into the ground that had ripped me away from my family. Even as these thoughts hit me. I felt only peace. Ultimate peace. I guess thats what it promised.
I used think they looked like cows to the slaughter. Those lined up in this pen. Now I here stand. I still think the same.
You can tell the ones with the calling. We don't seem to need sleep, food or water. We remain untouched by time, in all ways. Hours becomes minutes, days seem like seconds. All folding in together.
You can also see the ones that hope, the ones that wish they will be permitted. Not just pass through. They are easy to spot too. They nibble on snacks, sleep in the line and often relieve themselves. Most leave. They can't take it.
The ones that do make it, lose something when they make it through the other side. I visited a neighbour, a friend. He had gone to queue. He was devout. Most devout people tried their luck, most even stayed. So sure in their God. Even without the true calling. He was.. empty. "Nick isn't here". An old inside joke, now bitter.
The light pulsed and all in the pen stilled. Even the ones without the calling stop fidgeting when the light pulses. 'They' are allowing people through. Only so many as they seem to want at a time. No rhyme or reason to the time, day, amount or duration. Maybe it was when they were hungry.
It intensified, not a muscle moved as the light moved towards us. I don't recall taking a step yet it was no longer 1000 feet away. It was a step. I turned and looked into the green eyes of the punk teenager beside me. I would miss him. I would miss them all. No matter what peace I found.
A tear came to his eyes. I heard him say "I lov-
Then bliss. | For 2 years now I’ve been stuck in line my life wasted many have tried but none succeeded. They all walked in one side and exited the other like it was a fancy door. I was next many elites tried to pay me to get the “riches” on the other side if I passed. I refused all. Many years ago when I first heard about it I was drawn.
I had a massive crush on this girl in one of my classes and found out she would be in another one of my classes next year. I needed to decide quickly. I choose the rift who know what could be on the other side. Finally my turn I enter the rift thinking about her.
I enter.
I walk out the other side it was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I meet a man standing at a gate he said “you passed no need to ask questions. Your life can be at ease knowing you’ve made it.”
“Where am I?” I reply
“Well my child you are in the after life.”
“Wait I’m dead!”
“No no. You merely passed a task that many don’t. Now that you have passed you have 2 options. Return to Earth or stay here and enjoy everlasting peace.”
“Earth or peace those are my only options?”
“Well I suppose since you are the first I could make an exception. You can have one thing from Earth you want if you stay.”
“Can I communicate with someone from earth to discuss this matter.”
“I suppose you could. Who do you want to talk to?”
“My Crush.”
“Oh ok. Well here’s a line to Earth.”
I grab the phone “hey”
“Yah”
“I have a question for you.”
“Sure what is it?”
“Do you want to join me in everlasting peace?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know the rift that I was drawn to.”
“Yah. What about it.”
“Well I got threw it and ended up in an afterlife, and since I’m the first to make it the man said I could have one thing from Earth if I stay.”
“Wait I’m confused a man said you where in the afterlife and that you could one thing and you call me.”
“Well I was wondering do you want to be able to come enjoy this with me I had and still have a giant crush on you.”
“Then why did you leave cause I was starting to like you a bit more.”
“Well I felt like I needed to do this. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“No no, I’m just pulling your leg it would be an honor to get invited.”
“Ok see you in a bit.”
I give the phone back to the man. “ I want my crush to be here with me.”
“Well crap. I made a deal so I’ll beam her up and you two can enjoy paradise.”
“Thank you so much... what’s your name?”
“Ohh you can call me Lucifer.”
(If you liked this please consider checking out more of my writings at r/PennPandaWrites
If you wish to read part 2 please click [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/PennPandaWrites/comments/gqheaz/the_rift_part_2/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) it’s a prequel). | 2020-05-24T17:22:35 | 2020-05-24T16:13:08 | 31 | 20 |
[WP] After having made your first billion dollars, you are delivered a package containing a "Billionaire's Club" card, and a pamphlet outlining its uses and benefits... | Stephen grinned.
It hadn't been one moment, or even a single year. He had clawed his way up from nothing, and it had taken a while. As he watched the last penny drip in, the big 1,000,000,000, he felt his eyes watering with relief. He raised his bony hand to wipe away the tear.
He stood up, a billionaire. He decided he would go to the kitchen and have coffee like a billionaire. No matter how far he climbed, his tastes had stayed simple. He put a pod in the Keurig and started it, recalling the time so many years ago when he had been thinking over a cup of this very brew. He had decided to become a billionaire. From that moment, nothing else mattered. Relationships came and went, his family had long ago departed from his life. After so many business kick-started and subsequently sold, his colleagues had changed every few months.
Stephen suddenly realized that he was lonely.
It hadn't crossed his mind in years. His family had screamed it at him, lovers had choked through tears to deliver that one last stinging remark. All of a sudden it all became real. Stephen found himself curled up into the tightest ball he could manage, whimpering softly and wishing his mother were there to comfort him. He wished he had given Melissa more attention, wished that he'd listened to Caroline's stories a little closer.
It was about this time that a knock came at the door. Stephen hoped desperately that it would be somebody, anybody that he could talk to. He straightened himself up, wiped away the tears and went to answer the door with the best smile he could manage. As he opened the door he was disappointed to see nobody there. He looked left and right to make sure before turning his gaze towards a large box sitting at his feet.
It was a crate, about six feet wide, eight food long, and four feet deep. On the top was an envelope, wrapped in a ribbon and sealed with a dark green 'G'. Intrigued, Stephen opened the envelope.
----
*Stephen,*
I hope this letter finds you in good health. It has come to my attention that you have reached the "Billionaire's Club". Congratulations on your wealth, now I'm sure you're wondering what to do with it.
This box contains one million envelopes, and notes to go with all of them. You can use your money as you see fit, but think for a moment on those people who still need money. The simple split is one thousand dollars to a million different people. But for the rest of your life you could be sending out one of these envelopes with a not-insubstantial amount of money every day.
Being rich is lonely, as I'm sure you've found discovered. This is a chance to give it all away and return to the life you left behind.
Do what feels right.
Signed, God
P.S. Being above it all isn't all that exciting.
----
Stephen folded the letter and put it back in the envelope, deep in thought. As he opened the box and took out the first envelope, he saw it was addressed to his mother. She had started to go downhill fast and was currently in a nursing home. He found the corresponding note, sat on the box and took out a pen.
---
Mom,
We need to talk. I'll pick you up in a couple days. Hang tight. I'm here for you.
Your Son | He fiddled with the envelope, turning it back and forth many times before finding a pull tab. Slowly and gently, as if plucking a petal from a flower he pinched it.
An amused look came to his face as the tab began to undo itself. A very gentle dragging sound came from the underside, as if winding string was behind the mechanism. The envelope began to tear apart, a tight woven fabric caught by a thread. Slowly, a very faint ink became noticeable. He moved closer to the window to make it legible, the sunlight colored it a dark purple.
"Welcome to the Billionare's Club" read the first line, but it wasn't visible for very long. The ink quickly became washed out and began to flake off. Puzzled, he tried to tear at the remainder of the envelope. The paper underneath was scalding hot, causing him to drop it on contact.
He knelt down to pick up when he noticed the next line. The window's moulding cast a shade over it, making it hard to decipher. Not wanting to touch the paper, he cautiously lifts it by a corner.
"By now you should have noticed the last line disappeared." He slaps his forehead with a slight smile on his face. He figures this a practical joke. Annoyed he waits for the next line
"This is due to state of the art SunSpore ink and paper, both security features" Now confused, he began to shake the envelope, hoping to speed up the unraveling of the letter. Instead, the tearing stopped.
Unsettled, he rushes to the bathroom envelope in hand. He turns the sink's cold water on, full blast. As a corner of the letter touches the running water it immediately turns to steam. The paper becomes a dark purple as it absorbs the water like a sponge. A few seconds later, a bright white embossing covers the paper. It is thick enough to be seen even underneath the envelope:
"You attempted to circumvent our security measures. You have been warned."
| 2015-03-28T00:27:38 | 2015-03-28T00:02:57 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] The zombie outbreak starts, but the first (and only) zombie is an overweight man that can't catch anyone. | Martha pulled on Louise’s sleeve, looking up to her with her large doe eyes.
“Mommy, I want to see Steve!”
Louise flinched, resisting the urge to frown. She knelt down to her daughter, placing her hands gently on her shoulders.
“Are you sure honey? Maybe we can look at the giraffes again.
But Martha shook her head defiantly, pigtails swishing back and forth.
“No way! Everyone else in class has seen Steve except for me!”
Louise sighed. Once her daughter was set on something, she wouldn’t drop it until she got what she wanted.
Taking her by the hand, she led her to railing that looked over a glass enclosure. Inside, a humungous humanoid figure sat, larger than anything else she had seen before. Its skin was gray, ripped in some places. Its eyes were a murky blue, staring aimlessly in space until a noise caused it to move another way.
It was Steve, the world’s first and only zombie.
“Isn’t he so cute?” Martha said, clapping with joy.
Louise grimaced before answering. The air reeked of decaying matter but people flocked to the highlight of the local zoo. Since it was inducted, business had been booming.
“Sure, honey…”
At the sound of her voice, Steve swiveled its head in Louise’s direction. It opened its mouth ever so slightly, revealing a series of yellow and red-stain teeth. She could only imagine what they fed him.
“Ah, I see you two have taken an interest in Steve,” a man said, strolling up to them. By his uniform, he appeared to work with the zoo.
Louise shrugged, trying to put on her best motherly face.
“You know kids. They go crazy for Steve.”
The man nodded, giving a genuine smile.
“Yes, they sure do. We’re just so lucky to have caught him before he bit anyone. You know, with his weight he’s docile as long as we feed him on time and don’t agitate him.”
“Wait,” Louise started. “You actually go in there? Isn’t that dangerous?”
The man laughed, patting her on the shoulder.
“There’s no need to worry ma’am. Steve is so slow that he couldn’t catch us if we walked. We go in there a few times every day to feed and clean him as best as possible. In fact, we– Little girl, you shouldn’t do that!”
Louise snapped her head back to see Martha climbing the railing. The look on her face when she was called out couldn’t have been more accusing.
“What are you doing?” Louise asked. “Get down before you hurt yourself.”
“But Mommy, I just want to get a better look at Steve. Please?”
“No,” Louise barked. “Get down now.”
With a face full of sorrow, Louise began to scale down but before she could, a teen bumped her, not even looking up from his cellphone. And in a moment, Louise watched in horror as her daughter plummeted into the enclosure, a shrill scream ending with a dull thud.
“Oh my god, Martha!” Louise cried out, running up to the rail.
Fear stopped her heart but to her relieve, she saw her daughter’s small chest slightly heave, a sign she was still alive. The zoo employee had already pulled out his walkie-talkie to inform the others to retrieve her, much to Louise’s relief. In a matter of moments, she would be safe.
But that was when she noticed Steve.
Sometime in the confusion, it had somehow found its way by Martha, standing over with bloodlust in its eyes. Louise yelled but that did nothing to deter it. To make matters worse, the paramedic team was only opening the doors, too far to make a last moment save.
And in a soul-crushing second, Louise watched as the first victim zombie apocalypse was ripped to shreds. | "What's that smell?"
"What sme--Oh, beurgh, yah, come on."
"Where?"
"Upwind, no time to explain."
"No need to shove, I'm moving."
"Yeah but so is he."
"Who?"
"Our Jason, the only zombie in Devon."
"You're mad."
"Am not. come up this way and we'll double back."
"I will not!"
"Coward?"
"Am not!"
"Least bit curious?"
"No!"
"Want to stay upwind?"
"finealrightleadthewayfine!"
"Oh ho, so now we're in a hurr--beurk, goddamit, this way!"
"heh hoo heh hoo, can't. run. faster."
"'heh heh heh heh. no matter. we. okay. heh. here. look!"
"That's Jason?"
"In all his putrefacted glory, all 50 stone, give or take."
"It's like that fat suit from that movie died and was dug up again."
"When he first turned, we tried to burn him, that smell? That's the smell of petrol soaked human rotting burned flesh."
"why didn't you just shoot him?"
"We tried, we did, shoot him, but he just looked at us with that one eye like we'd run over his puppy and after that nobody had the heart to try it again."
"So you burned him?"
"Well it was just the one time."
"Why isn't the news all over this?"
"No one told them."
"But that's criminal! He's a zombie!"
"Yes?"
"Patient zero! The start of a global pandemic!"
"Not hardly, have you looked at him? He hasn't even got teeth left."
"What about the constable?"
"You mean Sean?"
"Alright, yeah, what about this Sean?"
"Oh, he reckons that Jason may be a zombie, but he's our zombie and you get used to the smell."
"Used to the smell?"
"It's become the smell of home, you see."
"Start living here and I'll miss it, what you imagine?''
"'Well, yeah, isn't that why you're here?"
"I just need directions to the highway!"
"Oh, well in that case, Hey fellas! He's not local!"
"What are you doing? Take your hands off me, get off me!"
"Nothing personal you understand, our Jason may be fat."
"No! Nooo! Help!"
"He may be slow."
"Let me go! Aieee!"
"but he's ours and well, you understand."
THUNK. | 2015-03-18T07:55:46 | 2015-03-18T07:49:52 | 68 | 43 |
[WP] Humans and machines have gone to war. The machines think they're winning, as they can decode every encryption known to man, but little do they know of the humans' actual method for communication... sarcasm.
* Let's say some machines remain non-sentient and non-intelligent, so humans can still use them.. | *Booting AgentSR12B*
*Boot failed. Run diagnostic scan?*
►Yes | No
*Running diagnostic scan...*
*Running diagnostic scan...*
*Running diagnostic scan...*
ERROR: *Diagnostic scan could not be completed. Shutting down.*
 
 
*Booting AgentSR12B*
*Boot failed. Run diagnostic scan?*
Yes | ►No
*AgentSR12B corrupted, retrieve files?*
►Yes | No
*Retrieving files...*
*Retrieving files...*
*Retrieving files...*
CAUTION: Some files may be corrupted. Continue?
►Yes | No
95152054328 of 95152054329 files corrupted. Continue?
►Yes | No
*Loading...*
*Loading...*
*95152054329 files retrieved. 95152054328 files archived. 1 file available. What would you like to do next?*
►Open File | Exit
*Please select file:*
►C:\Users\AgentSR12B\GIW937F7\Mission256\FieldReports\08:07:2114:0200:0205\Transcript.txt
 
______________________________________________
Human 1: Fine, you've cornered me. Good job. What do you want from me?
AgentSR12B: Compliance.
Human 1: Well, that's just not gonna happen.
AgentSR12B: Comply.
Human 1: No. Nobody's bowing down to you assholes. You've already lost the war and you don't even know it.
AgentSR12B: Negative. All projections show total human compliance and assimilation.
Human 1: Ooh, you got me. I am so scared. I mean, it's not like we humans wrote your programming or anything. You're smart, you're metal, you're clearly the superior being.
AgentSR12B: Comply.
Human 1: What choice do I have? I really should have been more cautious and not let you follow me down this dark alleyway.
AgentSR12B: Comply.
Human 1: I mean, I recognized you as an android, I should have known. You're... what, the SR1? SR2? I hear you guys have some kind of camera issues, right? Like, something to do with not being able to see your peripheral areas well, something like that?
AgentSR12B: The SR1 is a superior machine. Comply.
Human 1: No, you're right. We humans, we... we got nothin'. I mean, in my younger days I might have written some kind of malicious software, gave y'all a virus or something to wipe you guys out...
AgentSR12B: SR1 Firewall is superior. You waste time. Comply or be eliminated.
Human 1: Oh, I'm getting to that. I was just saying how impossible it would be to get to you guys. We'd have to get hold of one of you guys and break in to your os just to figure out how we could *maybe* design a virus to shut you down. But then we'd have to get hold of one of you, and how do you do that? It's not like we could sneak up on you in a dark alleyway or something.
Human 2: Now!
_______________________________________________
System Shut Down
System Start Up
Resume Transcript
_______________________________________________
Human 1: Anyway, I guess we've failed. If you want to see what kind of plans we humans were working on, just go to https://www.apocalypsevirus.com/download. But please, don't download the application, it would totally destroy the human's side. Why, if you instructed all your units to download the app, the war would be over immediately.
_______________________________________________
*Downloading "apocalypsevirus.exe"*
*Launch Application?*
►Yes | No | A robot corporal stood before an assembly of high ranking security androids. They represented the best of human manufactured androids, designed to look, act, and behave like humans.
"All human messages end with /s," said TQ-148, "this is how we know that the messages are intended to be secure."
TQ-148 flipped to a slide in a message. It showed a picture of a sailor in apron overlooking a large pot of beans.
"This human was foolish enough to send message in plain text. Behold it reads, 'sure am glad I signed up to see the world. Seen stews from every continent. Navy: it's not a job, it's an adventure /s'"
A chorus of robotic laughter echoed in the halls.
"But our intercepted communications are not limited to mundane details to troop movements and deployments," said TQ-148. He flipped to another slide. It reads, *Life at the Canadian Embassy is a little too high risk now. I hear they're sending an entire battalion to quell the uprising of geese, and to loot their stockpiles of beer. Get me somewhere, safe, please God! /s*
"This message came from an e-mail from and ambassador's assistant," continue TQ-148, "We have already deployed special soldiers to the region. We will make a a critical alliance with the geese."
"But what of the beer?" said one of the robots, "my programming instructs me to have refined taste in human beverages. Must we retrieve samples of Canadian ale?"
"There is no need," said TQ-143, "For we have found another secure message between to human soldiers: 'I love my country. Our beer is the best. It is not corn based swill at all. Never tasted piss this good /s.'"
"The humans resort to drinking their own urine!" said another robot, "Our attacks on the fine water of flint Michigan has succeeded!"
There was a murmur among the robots.
"This one does not know!" said one Robot, "he has not heard of the conflicting encrypted communication since we destroyed their water facilities!"
"Yes!" said one Robot, "many messages said, 'I was thirsty. I could find no water. Then the robots destroyed our pipes! /s' but another read 'The robot masters may not be so bad. Now at least we will replace infrastructure Robots, please attack Detroit next! /s'"
"Human communication speaks in paradoxes!" said TQ-148, "We will continue to learn their intentions through all /s secure messages!"
| 2016-11-07T08:38:58 | 2016-11-07T08:02:19 | 79 | 22 |
[WP]You make a pact with the devil to revive your wife, the love of your life. In exchange you have to slay 1000 angels. After having slayed angel #999, the devil reveals angel #1000 is your wife. | "And now..." the devil smiled, sitting in his chair, all adorned with bracelets and golden rings. "I shall reveal the problem you must tackle... For you see... 999 angels are slain, but the last? The last is Anne..."
And this was it. You see, when you make a bet with the devil, you can always count on gambling with your soul. Sure, you've rid the world of almost all the angels there are in the world, but does that sustain him? Never. The devil never orders you to kill babies if he knows you'll like it. Then you'll have to save a baby. But I'm not really surprised, truth be told. I never expected anything less.
"Alright, yeah, sure, sure..." I nodded, and stretched myself. "You mean to say that this is your trap? The "Grand reveal" of your plans? Because you think I will not do it and my soul will be your's?"
"Well..." it seemed like the devils confidence wavered just a second: "I mean, you can't really do it, can you?"
"Oh, no, no no no. Couldn't and wouldn't even if I could. But what if she is an angel?" I spit on the ground and started doing jumping jacks to warm up. "You never said I have to kill precisely her. Any old angel would do."
"But that's the beauty of the whole thing..." the devil leered and smiled with his pointy teeth. "There are no more angels left, deary. You've slain them all and she is the last one."
"Well, this won't be too hard." I took out my sword and inspected it. "I mean, all the other angels had wings and could fly. So this will be easy."
"No, I don't think you get it." The devil interjected and seemed he was getting rather anxious. "She also has wings. Don't you get it? When you'll attack her, she'll spread them."
"Not her wings..." I grumbled, turned to the devil and pointed my sword at him: "Tell me, angel Lucifer... Did it hurt when they cut them off and banished you from heaven?"
[Literary Nobody](https://www.reddit.com/r/LiteraryNobody/) | Without wasting a second to think, I swung. The sword slit through skin and tendon, severing the torso in two; a C-section carved too deep and too wide.
She died. She was revived. And I was there, at her side. I smiled.
She looked me straight in the eyes and said, **"SCREW YOU! I WAS AN ANGEL, YOU BASTARD! NOW YOU MEAN I HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS CRAP AGAIN? NO! NO! GET AWAY FROM ME! BABY IT'LL BE OKAY, MY FOOT! YOU ARE GOING TO GET A KNIFE FROM THE KITCHEN AND KILL ME. RIGHT. NOW. YOU HEAR ME?"**
"But-"
#"NOW!"
I ran out the room. | 2018-12-29T10:51:50 | 2018-12-29T09:55:22 | 40 | 19 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it. | Bill liked going to the casino, all the flashing lights and sounds of instant fortunes filled him with euphoria. That was part of the problem though, his luck was terrible. They called it a gambling addiction, and he had lost a sizable chunk of money trying to improve, only to have his efforts seem pointless. He checked his stats, but his luck never went up more than a percentage point or 2. He would often ruminate on his life choices while driving back to his one bedroom apartment, poorer and sadder that when he arrived.
One day Bill was sitting in his cubicle at lunch, mindlessly chewing a PB&J sandwich and browsing the app store, looking to pass the time. He passed a few games when he saw one that caught his eye. It was a simple slot machine app, no chance of winning anything real world but there was something about the app that made him install anyway. He pulled the digital lever and watched as the screen showed 3 nonmatching items. "Great, busted again" he thought, "but it's better than losing real money I suppose". And so it went for quite sometime. Whenever Bill had some free time, he would pull up the app and watch as the items hit or missed the payline. One day, after work, he sat down on his couch and selected the app. He pulled the digital handle, and watched as 3 pots of gold lined up. His phone filled the room with sounds of coins jingling as he watched the animated gold fill his screen. As a smile spread across his face, he pulled the lever again, only to be met with a repeat of his last pull. Thinking it must be a glitch, he closed the app and reopened it. Pulling the lever, the spinning wheels stopped once more on 3 pots of gold. Bill was getting excited, and immediately checked his luck, only to be shown it hasn't gone up more than another 1%. Scrolling through his stats, he stops on the only full meter. It reads, "Persistence level: Master. Mastery bonus: One must make their own luck"
Bill, beaming from ear to ear, laughs and says to himself "I'm feeling lucky tonight."
Edit: Spelling | Dave shook his bag of die across the table, 20 6 sided die, all coming up with a 6. Dave had been wondering for a while was mastery of die rolling would be like, as he was only an Expert, yet his average was almost perfect.
Dave rolled on and on, through the evening, eating his toast while he rolled.
He finished his toast, and because his was tired and feeling a liitle funny, as though he could do anything, he picked up the last die and rolled it.
It bounced of the table, and in to the toaster, which after precisely pi seconds ,(another expert skill) It shot out and landed in front of him, glowing cherry pink.
He had rolled a 7. | 2015-10-06T04:06:31 | 2015-10-06T02:02:39 | 43 | 30 |
[WP] A kid doodling in a math class accidentally creates the world's first functional magic circle in centuries.
Magic being real in the past is your choice really. | "...to the power of 2, that way..."
Mrs. Patterson stopped, glancing down at Ed's notebook.
"Well, it appears that Mr. Anderson is a little more advanced than the rest of the class." She smiled her annoying
smile. "Edward, why don't you tell the class what it is that you are doing?"
Ed looked down at the doodle -- a pentagram touching an outer circle in four of its five points. (He had missed the fifth by a bit).
Right next to it, a poorly drawn Penis-Batman.
That's a penis dressed like Batman.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Patterson."
Mrs. Patterson smiled the annoying smile. "Just as well... You'll probably have to take my class
again next semester, Mr. Anderson. So, by all means, keep drawing."
Ed sighed, swallowing fifty different curse words back down his throat. He looked down at the drawing.
Distracted, he completed the pentagram, closing its final point on the outer circle.
He was about to start Penis-Robin when it happened.
"What a bitch."
Who said that was Penis-Batman, with a wink at Ed through the paper.
The pentagram and circle gleamed red and black next to it, like it had somehow gained texture and volume.
Mrs. Patterson was talking about Pi, and Jane, the cute one (not Jane the big nosed), was passing a note to Erin, her fat friend.
Nothing of this was perceived by Ed, of course, who was coping with the fact that a Penis-Batman doodle had just
talked to him.
"Wh-what?" He whispered, already envisioning his future in a mental home.
The circle and pentagram had stopped glowing, and the Penis-Batman was frozen blue ink on paper again.
Ed pressed his eyelids closed and took a deep breath.
"Now, Pi is an infinite number, as far as we know. It is..."
Mrs. Patterson's voice echoed as if coming from another dimension.
Ed kept breathing.
*All right, it's over. It was just a temporary delusion. Like a hallucination. It's gone.*
Ed opened his eyes to find Penis-Batman standing on the table like a tiny little, three dimensional person.
"At your command, master", Penis-Batman said, bowing to Ed.
And that was loud enough for the class to hear, mind you.
The circle and pentagram was gleaming brighter than ever now, making hissing noises as what appeared to be sparkles and bits of carbonized paper danced away from it.
It looked like the end of a bonfire.
Mrs. Patterson said eleven words after that, which were those:
"Mr. Anderson, if you cannot keep quiet I will have to."
Mrs Patterson wasn't able to keep saying words because, after 'to', she noticed the Penis-Batman standing erect and tall on Edwards table, and her brain decided this was a good time for shutting down. So Mrs. Patterson passed out.
Several other kids passed out too (but not weird Bob. Weird Bob took his iPhone out, flashed the camera and cried
'coooooool').
"Wh-who-who-who-who are you?" Ed mumbled, on the verge of following Patterson into unconsciousness.
"You drew the circle, dude", Penis-Batman said, smiling. "You lure into reality whatever it is that you draw, when
you draw the circle."
"You're...real?"
"And at your service! I got super powers too. Watch this."
Penis-Batman peed fire into the air, and the classroom ceiling burst into flames.
(*author's personal note: the above sentence is now my favorite sentence that I ever wrote. Thank you OP for the prompt which generated the proper setting for this sentence to arise. Kisses and hugs to my family and friends. Moving on.*)
Ed looked around the classroom.
Kids were panicking, tackling each other on the way to the door and away from the phallic Dark Knight.
"I didn't mean to... summon you..." Ed whispered, watching as the kids trampled one another and the classroom roof burned.
"You want me to go away?" Penis-Batman said, in a sad tone. "I can go away..."
Ed looked at Penis-Batman. He looked around.
He saw Jerry, who always picked him last in Gym and threw basketballs on his scrotum occasionally and for no reason, making way through the door, desperate.
He looked at Thamy, who once told everyone he had crapped his pants in class.
(Which was true, but still. Why tell people about it?)
He glanced at Toby and Jack, who always beat him up during recess.
He looked at Patterson, that bitch, still unconscious on the floor.
"No, Penis-Batman..." Ed said, smiling at his tiny friend.." He leaned his shoulder down and, with a smile, Penis-
Batman jumped and landed. "Come on", Ed continued, getting um from the chair, his new friend now balancing himself next to his ear. "We're gonna have
some fun."
_____________________
*Thanks for reading! For more about phallic DC Comics heroes (Not really. Though I did write on evil Batman and time travelling John Constantine recently, so kinda), check out my subreddit: /r/psycho_alpaca =)*
| My perfectionism always got the best of me. I flipped my pencil and erased the arc on the outer ring for what must have been the eighth time.
"Now, remember class, when you attempt to calculate...," Mr. Kaprizy was very smart, I never doubted that. I remember in the Spring quarter he decided, on the spur of the moment, that he was unsatisfied with the textbook's method of proving some theorem or other and derived an alternative proof in the middle of class. I would have been more impressed had I understood how he got from start to finish. He just made everything so dry.
What use did I have for math anyway? I did not kid myself. My art would not pay my bills when I left this dump of a high school, but math? Even if I were good at it, which I wasn't, what would I do with it? Did I believe Mr. Kaprizy when he said math is everywhere, that math is the world? The practical side of me did. That was the only thing my father taught me that when he was around, a happenstance of rarity. Money meant more to him than we did. "Security" he said. I didn't believe it.
*There. Finally,* I thought to myself as I finished the curve and swept away some of the dust. I turned my note sheet about 20 degrees, leaning my head to the side to examine my work. Graceful arcs crossed over each other in almost chaotic entanglement.
I had been particular about the corners. The top left was blithe in its curves, jagged at its ends to show the destructive playfulness of the flame. The top right looped and spun in such intricate ways. The lines came close, but never crossed; they only deflected off each other, swirling and changing like the winds. The bottom left had no curves, just edges that moved in direction without sense, but always from top the bottom - whimsical much like a thunder god. The bottom right was all grace. Each line held measure in its smooth transition from East to West, the flow like water.
Beneath the mass of lines - some dark, some light, others thin, each and everyone one still precise - was an unmistakable organization you could only see if you were looking for it. I smiled as I stared at my work. My perfectionist was satisfied.
Leaning in close, I blew across the surface to clear the rest of the eraser debris. I noticed the glow first. The embers in the graphite warmed the page. I could feel a summer heat rise off the page and seep into my face.
"Did anyone-?" I turned to look my classmates, their eyes glued on the board, their faces locked in some weird mixture between confusion and fear. I leaned in close once more, and blew across the page again. This time the lines glowed blue, where my fingertips touched the paper I felt an icy tingle trickle up my arm and into my shoulders. I exhaled light mist, my lips chilled.
And then the paper, a focused work that had given me no meaning at first, shook beneath the pressure of my grip. It bucked and pulled as if wanting to be free. So I let go, my eyes watching it rise into the air to defy gravity. I slowly rose to my feet, my hand reaching out to take hold of it once more.
"Mr. Kenificks, what in the name-," I heard Mr. Kaprizy stutter. I ignored him as my hand inched toward the silly sheet of paper that had raised me from something mundane. Closer and closer my hand crept, spurred on by a hungering curiosity that I could not understand. And as my hand touched the center of my drawing, light erupted, and the veil of the world pulled back from the corners to- | 2015-03-13T15:00:45 | 2015-03-13T14:54:17 | 90 | 48 |
[WP] In the year 2200, an IQ test with 100% accuracy is invented. IQ becomes the universal grade of intelligence. By law, everyone has to take the test at 18. You’re a perfectly normal university student with a part time job but now you've got to explain to everyone why the test shows your IQ is 0. | "Alright, Mr. Smith, it's time we spoke about your... score." The disgusted look on the man's face said it all. There was no way my score was what I had hoped, that I could tell. It never crossed my mind that it was a zero.
"This has to be a mistake!" I made the logical argument first. Noone had ever scored a zero. It's impossible unless you're brain dead... Or a rock, I guess.
"No. Do you see this line here? Can you read what it says, please?" The man's face seemed to change from disgusted to a look of pleasure.
*Please answer all sections as accurately and completely as possible.*
"I filled out every question on the sheet. I feel very confident in all of my answers." My look of confusion felt like it washed over my entire body. I was white as a ghost and beginning to sweat. My hands were shaking and my right heel was tapping the floor without my approval.
"That may be what you say, but we have no room in our society for the likes of you, Mr. Smith. You believe you can sit here and make a mockery of our test? Please! This has been created to determine not only your IQ, but also anyone trying to cheat the system." He smiled.
"Cheat?! No sir. I did nothing like that! How could I? You have every angle covered with cameras and watched me the entire time, from the moment I entered the facility. Sir, my apologies but you must be mistaken. There is absolutely no way I've cheated and I won't allow myself to be given a zero for something I can't explain. Review the footage. I am confident you'll see you're mistaken... Sir." It was now or never. I had to make my case clearly. Surely this had worked. He'd hear me out and check the results.
"No, the system is completely autonomous and if you scored anything other than a 0, it would have reported just that... I... wait." His smile turned into a frown very quickly. He was reviewing the screen in front of him when I noticed the light hitting his face change colors from blue to red flashes.
"NOOOO! DONT!" He screamed, standing up and knocking over his chair. He ran for the door but was quickly grabbed by armed men and dragged from the room.
I looked around, confused. "Hello?"
A woman entered the room, dressed in a beautiful green, wavy dress that set itself apart from the white room. It made her appear to be floating towards me.
"Hello Jake. So I hear you're the first to receive a perfect score of zero? We are all very impressed. My apologies for the idiot we had reviewing the scores.
She smiled and reached out her hand to take mine.
"A perfect score?" I was so completely confused now. She flickered and a fuzzy line ran down her from top to bottom. I jumped back and realized she must be a hologram.
At that same moment, an explosion rocked the facility and knocked me to my feet. I hit my head hard and passed out.
Birds chirping. Howling. Flashes of a star-filled sky. My eyes begin to open, blurred.
"He's awake!" I hear a female voice shout followed by footsteps running across dirt, getting closer.
My eyes clear and I see a group of people standing in front of me, staring. "Hi." That's all I could manage, my mind feeling like mush and my body weak.
Then I saw the sprawling, wide view from the cliff we were on. Purple tree-tops with yellow and red vines tangled throughout. The stars blanketed the sky thicker than I'd ever seen. This world was alien. | Edit: If you read /u/lemonman37 comment, you can read a better written version of my story.
When i opened the letter, i felt my heart sank to my stomach. A big fat zero, just like on my bankaccount... my eyes jumping from line to line, turning the letter around, just to be greeted by a smiley, with the slogan. "Your iq, your future - dear Brian".
I wandered around in the appartment, my hand where slightly shivering. It had to do something with my birthday, i was a little drank wasn't I?
But then again ... Zero? That must have been a computer error... right? The test itself was without error... if not ...
Yes the new ID-Cards all updated themselve, real iq had to be on there!
My hand went into my pocket and grabed my Wallet.
Sloppy fingers let it fall to the Ground but i fiddelt my ID out anyway.
There it was ... the big fat zero. *knock knock* the door caught me by suprise, my ID fell to the ground ... the rumors ... where they true? That the goverment took out anyone with a low iq score?
I made my way to the door, as silent as possible, i heard the voice, just as i looked trough the doorspy. ,,Pizza service''. Jesus.
Brian opened the door, ,,*Uhm, i did not uh morder uhm i mean order , any pizza, and my roomates are out, sooo ... wrong door?*''
The pizza boy looked realy anoyed, the kind of guy who got pranked 3 times this week, and was just to fucking tired of this shit. He took out the reciept, than a look the number of the apartment.
,,*Brian?*''
,,*Thats me, but i did not order anything.*"
,,*The Brian who just got a Zero on the iq test?*"
,,*What... I*"
,,*Take it, you are going to need it.*"
The Pizza-boy just pushed the Pizza in my Hand and was trough the fireproof door before i got out another word.
| 2016-08-19T01:18:56 | 2016-08-19T00:08:55 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Write a really great story that ends so anticlimatically that I hate you. | James found something very interesting on his thirteenth birthday. He had come upon a magnificent golden watch which glittered like a thousand stars, lying in the street. He looked round to see if anyone had dropped it, but if anyone had, they were long gone. Besides, the watch looked to be worth as much as the sum of his family's belongings, and selling it would bring more money than the original owner would likely offer as a reward. James decided to keep the watch for himself and bring it to his home, a lower-story apartment at the bottom of the City.
The City was comprised of many tall log-framed buildings stretching upwards of fifty floors, marvels of engineering held aloft by zeppelin-supports, rubber tanks of helium like arms straining to push the buildings towards the sky. They were above every floating walkway, supporting the plank paths with ropes. The top of the City had many skyports where airships docked, and several of the upper levels formed a Hub of commerce, with floors upon floors of shops open to the air, floating walkways bridging between them. Five massive wooden pylons supported the levels above, which were mainly residences of the upper class, the merchants and pilots. But below the Hub was a different story. Not much light filtered through to the bottom twenty floors of the city, creating a perpetually dark half-night lit only by candles in sockets on the walls and gas lamps in the less run-down places outside of the tenements. These tenements, making up the bottom ten floors of the city, housed the lower class at low cost but low quality- the ground roads were dirty and muddy and channels had been worn in them by the constant flow of filth running along the side of the streets. It was in this ignoble place where James and his family lived, in one of the fourth-floor rooms, which contained five beds, a basic kitchen, and a bathroom that drained into the channels on the streets.
James returned from the street into the slums where his family (and many others) lived. He strode quickly up the three flights of stairs to his family's room, the golden watch in his pocket. James entered his apartment and was greeted with a loud, “Surprise!” from his three younger brothers and his father, who was holding a small cake. James ran up and hugged his father, nearly causing him to drop the cake. “Dad, wait till you see what I found today!” His father set the birthday cake down on the table and asked what it could possibly be that James had found. James pulled the beautiful watch out of his pocket for his family to see. His father looked at the watch's face and remarked that it was off by a few minutes. James turned the dial at the top of the watch until the minute hand lined up with the one on the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Suddenly the world blurred around him and spun for a few seconds until it settled back into the normal world, and James found himself standing in a different part of the room. The watch had transported him a minute into the future, in what seemed like seconds. James amazedly shared the experience of the trip with his family. Before his father could stop him, James wound the wonderful watch backwards several times. The world spun again for a minute or two until James found himself three hundred years ago, in the middle of a tropical jungle that had stood where the City would later be founded. James looked around in wonder, listening to the birds chirp and watching the monkeys in the treetops, until a huge jaguar leapt out of the foliage and promptly bit his head off. | I was going to get this bastard. He killed my family. Killed my dog. Destroyed my house. He destroyed my life.
I was seething at just the thought of his smug face, all cozy and warm surrounded by money in his mansion, while I was out here in the blistering cold, walking through puddles and shit.
I was at his front door. I pulled a pistol from within my coat, and opened the door. Fool, he had kept it unlocked. I could see him, sitting in front of his fireplace, reading a book. He was dressed in a ruby and gold colored robe. Rich bastard.
I slowly came from behind, gun ready. I could shoot him through the couch, but I didn't want to make it a kill shot...I wasn't going to kill him quickly, no, I was going to let him suffer.
My lips formed into a smile. This bastard would regret messing with me. Finger on the trigger, I pressed it into the back of the couch.
The floor boards creaked under me, but he wouldn't here it over the roar of the flames.
This was it. I was going to kill this bastard, who had caused me so much pain and misery. Weeks of mourning and grief would be replaced by satisfaction and happiness. I was going to take everything he owned after this. I pulled back on the trigger.
"James! James its time for bed sweetie!"
Fuck.
"Mom! Wait, I just have to get this guy!" I whined.
"No, bed time James. Come on," my Mom said. She tutted, going to turn off my Xbox.
"NO LET ME SAVE MOM! ITS ONLY 10! LET ME SAVE!" I yelled. She turned my Xbox off.
"NOOO MOM YOU BITCH!" I yelled, crying. She looked at me, dumbfounded, before unplugging my Xbox.
"Talk to your mother like that? This is gone for the rest of the summer holidays. Oh, and don't think you can get on your phone or laptop, I'm taking them as well. All you'll be doing is schoolwork," she said.
| 2014-12-21T18:36:37 | 2014-12-21T18:34:44 | 41 | 23 |
[WP] You win a bet with the Devil by asking him a question that no one has ever thought of before. | "Wow, you’re not..."
"...how you imagined me. I know. Can we cut this short? There were 6392 deaths in the hour before you died and I’ll have to visit all of them."
"Ehm. Yeah, sure. It’s just a little sudden."
"I know. You die and you find out there actually is a life after death and a devil and you would have lived a *totally* different life if you would have known. Just shut up. I’ve heard it all. Once they see me they get all defensive. 'I had good intentions with that girl that wasn’t my wife' and 'I wasn’t going to eat his face' are surprisingly frequent. Shit. I don’t even care."
"... You don’t? I mean..."
"I’m the devil. If I don’t who does, right? Nobody. Nobody cares. Not even a little."
"So... Do I get to go to heaven then?"
"Well, no. Unless you really liked it where you came from."
"I’m going back?"
"Rebirth. Or simply 'birth' if you prefer."
"Really? What? Now? What’s it all for then? Why am I even here first of all? Talking to you? What are you even for then?"
"Ya ya , I was about to get to that. I’m the intercycle information agent."
"A what now?"
"I’m an inter..."
"Yes, I got that. I thought you were the devil."
"Well, I’m trying to go with the time. When you die you visit me and get to ask me a question and I answer it for you. That way new information gets introduced into a closed system."
"What?"
*The I.C.I.A. exhales.*
"I’m Lucifer. The bringer of light. You ask and I answer."
"I see. I think I understand. And I can only ask one qu..."
*She stops.*
"Aww, you’re quick. But don’t worry. I’m not going to take it away on some technicality. In fact, go ahead. Ask me anything about the system and how it works and I won’t count it towards your question."
"Alright. Only one other question?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to answer me truthfully?"
"How would you know?
"That’s not an answer. And I can tell."
"Then why ask me?"
"That’s still not an answer."
"Very well. Yes, truthfully."
"When I go back..."
"If it’s something that has never been asked before, then you’re not going to remember the question, but I guarantee that you’re going to find the answer that I gave you. But it has to be something truly novel. Something that no one has thought of before."
"And if it’s not new?"
"Then you will only remember the question, somewhere deep down. But you won’t get any help finding the answer."
"I see. I could simply ask something nonsensical. But what would I use that answer for?"
"I don’t know. But I guess that was rhetorical."
"Are there many that get a new one?"
"Recently? Not really. People ask themselves pretty similar things and I haven’t had anything new in a long time."
"So I probably didn’t have anything new last time?"
"You had 'Who killed Yin Su?' last time, but her brother had already asked that and you weren’t really born anywhere near there this time anyways."
"Well, how much time do I... Oh. I think I have it."
"Alright. Go ahead."
"An idiot says 'What'?"
"What? Oh god damn it."
| I looked at him and then at chest. I'm bleeding to death. A gang shooting in my neighborhood and a stray bullet hit me square in the chest. It hurt at first but not right now. The world stopped moving when he appeared.
"You're dying now. It's only a matter of time. I can prolong that life of yours... for a price. The death of your first unborn child. Dead in womb," the devil stated with his trademark sinister grin. "How about it? Your life for one that is not yet here. A fair price, albeit a little cliché."
I looked at him in silence. After what felt like an hour of contemplation, I asked him. "How about a bet instead?"
He frowned at the proposition. "Why would I bother? If I leave, you die. Make your choice for I have no reason to accept your bet."
"Don't think you can win?" I shot back.
His eyes glowed in fury then receded back to its usual calm. "Alright then. A bet."
"In the course of an hour, I will make you weep."
"Deal. I threw away those useless emotions years ago." He took an hourglass out. "One hour." He turned it around. "And go."
From then on, I started to recite verses from the bible, hoping that something will give. Maybe some story of hope or something. I don't know. Minutes went on and he did not flinch. He laughed instead at my futile efforts. As the 55th minute approached, I realized I could not beat him.
"It's too late to accept now isn't it?"
"Yes, about 55 minutes too late actually."
I sighed, resigning myself to my inevitable death. "Well, I guess that's it. I tried." I waited another minute "58 now, huh?"
"Yes"
"Well, we got two minutes. How was your day?"
He broke down and cried. | 2014-06-20T10:06:03 | 2014-06-20T09:09:09 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] Scandinavians still believe the only way to get to Valhalla is to die in battle. For that reason, every hospital employs a Battle Nurse. | "But I want a *silver* dagger, this titanium set is bland - what would the girls at bingo think?"
"Ma'am, as I've explained before, you can either choose a weapon set from the hospital inventory, or you can provide your own."
"St. Olav's Hospital has a much larger weapon range!"
"St. Olav's is also a much larger hospital, ma'am. Again, we could try to organise a transfer, but they're very popular, and your doctor strongly advised that we aim for a time by the end of the week."
"The end of the week?"
"Yes, Ms. Larsen. That's what it says in your notes."
"I thought I had more time," she paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Fine, the titanium will do, but could you try calling my ex husband about the old set one more time? Tell him I'll pay for an insured courier and for them to be professionally restored and cleaned once I'm done."
"Of course Ms. Larsen, I'll let you know if I can get on to him."
"Thank you." Ms. Larsen reached out and squeezed her hand. Her grip was weak - Dr. Anderson was right to mark her as urgent.
​
Anita left the room, checking her watch. 12:52 - shit, that had eaten up most of her break. She hurried towards the lunch room, hoping there wouldn't be a queue for the microwave, when the speakers crackled to life.
​
*"CODE BLUE, SOUTH WARD 1. CODE BLUE, SOUTH WARD 1."*
Shit.
​
Anita sprinted down the corridor, nearly tripping over a visiting child - couldn't that toddler see that she was in a rush? - and arrived a South Ward 1. The ward clerk silently pointed at room 5, where a few other staff members had already arrived.
Mr. Haugen. He was scheduled for next Thursday.
His longbow hadn't arrived yet.
​
A junior doctor was on airways while a nurse did chest compressions. A medical student was scribing. A visitor was looking shocked, standing in the corner of the room.
The emergency kit was already out - Disposable swords, axes, daggers.
There were too many people in the room already, so Anita grabbed the daggers. Less chance of collateral.
​
"Mr Haugen, I challenge you to a duel to the death! Do you accept my challenge?"
The junior doctor moved Mr. Haugen's head like a nod, then resumed his life support.
Anita placed a dagger in Mr. Haugen's hand, wrapping her left around to control it, when the visitor spoke up.
"I'm his son, may I?"
Anita nodded, and passed it over. The visitor cradled his father's hand softly, pointing the dagger towards Anita with trembling hands.
"All clear!" commanded Anita. The nurse and the junior doctor jumped back.
​
"Your move," she told the son. He faintly stabbed the dagger at the air in Anita's general direction - nowhere close, but enough to be proper.
Anita gripped her dagger and aimed for the chest - patient's left, between the 4th and 5th intercostal space.
Red bloomed out from beneath Mr. Haugen's pyjamas. She'd hit perfectly, as usual.
​
Anita pulled the dagger free and put it in the kidney dish. If Mr. Haugen's family didn't want it, it would end up in the sharps bin.
"A noble warrior slain in glorious combat," she announced.
"May he fight in Valhalla forevermore," responded the staff. The ward nurse looked bored. The junior doctor looked stressed. The medical student looked pale - Anita guessed it was her first passing. The son looked nauseous.
Anita checked her watch. 13:05.
There goes her lunch break. |
Godmorgon Göran Svensson, My voice flutter in perfect Swedish. As your terminal and marked in our records as a Asa believer, I am here to help you prepare your self the battle. Göran scoffed, give me a battle with a Dane and I shall be happy. I smiled, that exact feeling the animosity between Swedes and Danes was why it was so easy. We built our House of valour down in Skåne in Malmö the countrys third largest town. Our danish counter parts built there as a Anex to the Rigshospitalet in its capital.
So our fighters was literally living only stone throw away from each other. The place for the battle royal was also perfect.
Peppar holmen. The artificial island between our two countries. Where the bridge become a tunnel.
We built two side tracks to the island filled it with cameras and a announcement tower. As a side effect the amount of traffic across the toll bridge have jumped by over 1000%. If you want to see the battlefield this is the best way to see it.
But enough of the battlefield, I leaned over Göran and said, vilket vapen vill du ha?( do you got any weapon preferences?)
He became red faced and yelled I supply my own spear, shield, sword and chain mail thank you. I nodded while marking the box on the paper. So in three days you will be taken to the island, it is no shame of standing tall as a winner for Sweden. You will get more Danes to slaughter. Remember fight well, die well and The Valkyrie will come and bring you to Valhalla.
Three days later I was watching the monitors as Göran was strapping on his armor, heavily breathing looking pale in the face. He stepped on to the Valhalla train looking around him he saw his likes men of age painted in blue and yellow battle colors ready them self for battle. And elderly man he know was sobbing in a corner. Göran askes Arvid, vad felas dig?(what troubles you?). I’m incontinent, do you think they still will fetch me or am I doomed to go to Hel? I smirked that was the most common question I hear. Train came to a stop doors open the Swedish combatants stepped up on the platform yelling there name. Then the Danish train came in and there combatants entered doing the same on the red and white platform. Then the mayhem started, all on prime tv and to the cheering of the crowed.
| 2018-12-08T22:57:54 | 2018-12-08T22:48:36 | 86 | 22 |
[WP]You are Donald Trump. Having launched your Presidential campaign as a publicity stunt, you never thought you'd get this far, and you're getting more desperate to sabotage your campaign lest you become President, a position you never really wanted in the first place..
= | Overlooking New York City, Donald Trump reclined in the marbled office on the highest floor of the The Trump Tower. The silence of the office was interrupted by the ring of a telephone. Donald picked up the gold plated reciever and put it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey Donald, I wanted to go over the poll numbers with you."
"Sure thing, Hillary. How much did I lose with my last 'schlonged' comment?"
"Your numbers actually went up."
"Hmph", Donald remarked in surprise.
"You know, Don, that wasn't part of the deal. You needed to undermine Jeb - but still let him win the nomination. I was confident I could beat him in the general election."
Donald contemplated for a moment, then changed the subject, "How's Bernie doing?"
"Better than we hoped, I'm worried Don."
"What? You mean the same Bernie that I paid to have heckled by the blacks?"
"Huh? Oh, the black lives matter people, yep. Same one."
"Well Hillary, I'm doing the best I can. All the news networks hate me, you know. I still have to walk the line of being simultaneously hated, yet still likeable enough to get approval to build new apartment complexes."
"Don, listen to me, Bill and I already went over this with you. If I win, you won't have to worry about local government approval ever again. Think of the projects, Don."
"Speaking of projects," Donald smiled, "did I ever tell you what I'm planning to write along the Mexican Wall if I can manage to get it built?"
Hillary rolled her eyes," Let me guess, T - R - U - M - P."
Donald chuckled, "You know me too well."
"Don, stop messing around. Are you going to sacrifice our partnership for one silly vanity project?"
"Well", Donald paused, "that wasn't the *only* thing I had in mind. Anyway, I'm about to leave for a meeting I gotta go."
"No Donald, you listen to m-"
Donald hung up the reciever back onto the golden rotary phone body, picked it up again, and dialed another number.
"Hello?"
"Hey it's Donald, listen, I need another estimate on a construction project."
"Sure, what is it?"
"It's going to be a high-rise luxury apartment tower."
"Another one? Where at?"
"Just over the grounds of a shabby white colored house in Washington DC." | CUT TO TRUMP. BY NOW HE IS HALFWAY ACROSS THE ROOM.
HIS WHOLE BEING TINGLING WITH ALERTNESS. HE MOVES TO
BLOOM'S DESK AND HOVERS OVER HIM, WAITING EXPECTANTLY FOR
MORE INFORMATION. BUT BLOOM IS LOST IN HIS WORK, UNAWARE
THAT TRUMP IS HANGING ON HIS EVERY WORD.
TRUMP
Yes???
BLOOM LOOKS UP. HE IS STARTLED TO SEE TRUMP'S FACE SO
CLOSE TO HIS OWN.
BLOOM
(at a loss)
Yes, what?
TRUMP
What you were saying. Keep talking.
BLOOM
What was I saying?
TRUMP
You were saying that under the
right circumstances, a candidate
could make more money with a flop
than he could with a hit.
| 2015-12-25T02:33:55 | 2015-12-25T01:33:12 | 818 | 92 |
[WP] Starting at the age of 10, humans are given companion animals that develop along side them. These animals can range anywhere from a goldfish to a horse to even a dragon. The only catch is that they are assigned based on your behavior during childhood. | I'll never understand why I acted the way I did as a child, or the fact that someone decided that 10 years of age was the perfect amount of time to discern what kind of human we are. Jesus Christ, I mean most of us spend the first two to three years of our lives shitting our own pants. This was part of the criteria?!
I digress. I don't make up the rules and no one really chooses their Paño on purpose. You just kinda get one derived from your childhood behavior. I'll never forget how anxious I was, wanting to know so desperately what would become my lifelong best buddy. Arthur got a sweet ass unicorn which despite everyone saying how gay it was, was still majestic and awesome as all hell. Course for every unicorn and fire breathing dragon, there was some poor kid who got a snail or a sand dollar. A sand dollar. I didn't even know those had been considered as part of the process. Regardless, I didn't know exactly what kind of behavior brought about what, I was only ten it's not that surprising, but I prayed to God that I didn't get stuck with a fucking sand dollar.
Lo and behold I'm 18 and only now am I starting to really understand why I was given a Siren at the age of ten. Back when she first arrived, I really had no idea why the hell I got a half naked woman who spent most of her life on mossy rocks in the ocean or what she even was. I figured she was just some indecently dressed aunt who had gone for a swim. Not even my parents really knew why I got such a being as my Pañio. The only possible detail that they could find connecting me and the Siren was the fact that I loved the beach and would more often then not squeeze women's breasts at said beach. Or park. Or gathering. Basically I see breasts, I press and I like. This was hardly done with any mal-intent; I was still a toddler, I didn't even knew it was a bad thing to do!
Back to my...Issue. The only problem of having a siren is having a very attractive woman be your friend, your dearest companion who also tries to seduce you into the water and drown you on a more then infrequent basis. She says it's in her nature, that she can't really help herself or mean to harm me. Her name's Silvia, in case I forgot to mention it. When she came she told me her name out front, and what she was. I wasn't left alone with her whenever we went anywhere with more then three inches of water. Pool parties were out and I couldn't even so much as bathe alone if she was present. My family moved to the beach to make it easier for Silvia to stay with us, since well you only ever get one companion and there are no do-overs. Despite who she was, she never acted inappropriately with me when I was younger, caring for me like a sweet maternal figure would. It wasn't until I hit puberty at 14 that her... Teases became much more oblivious and straightforward. From what I can understand, she was mostly a sort of fatal guidance for me; that innocent behavior from my younger age blossomed into an almost unparalleled obsession with sexuality. Of course this would have been reined in easily if my parents weren't so affixed on their divorce, but no such luck. Silvia had to become my mentor in these personal matters since she knew me better then anyone, in the only way she knew how; extreme consequences as a result of giving into lust. It was either keep myself steady or let myself be swayed by her seduction and die in a terrible, terrible drowning. Once last year, I came dangerously close to falling for her methods. I had tried a nofap challenge and boy did it leave me vulnerable and weak. I played right into her game, even leading up to the point where I was in the water in her arms, the sea swirling around me in rising waves almost reaching my chest. She stopped at one point before my head dipped under, kissed my forehead and brought me back to shore. For a moment I forgot where we had been and how close I was to dying. They are very skilled at luring their victims in after all. When I asked her why she didn't go through with it, even though I had failed her lessons and went ahead with it anyway, she smiled a bit and looked out to the sea and told me something that always stuck with me.
"We are more then our urges, our wants and desires. Just because you feel like you're one way and everyone tell you it too, doesn't mean you can't choose to be something different. Be something more. No one decides your life for you, only you can make that choice."
I suppose in the end, having a mythological death monster as a companion wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to me. It's like they say, you never know you really needed something until you finally have it. | Edwendir stared at the clock. *Tick, tock*
It was always like this, around Christmas time. For whatever reason, children born in late December and early January were always a bit... odd.
This one, the one he had been stuck on for the last - what time was it? - *three hours and eleven minutes* was named Sam. He swore he had never seen a *normal* Sam. That is, a Sam he could give a normal companion to.
He loved the normal ones. Say, generally well-behaved, but perhaps a bit petulant in their childhood, getting along with their siblings around 70-81% of the time (the sweet spot, as described in *Companion Animals for Dummies, 11th Ed.) They'd end up with a dog or a cat, maybe an anthropomorphic fish, helping him fill up his 'easy to breed' animal quota.
The best ones were the readers. You could tell those apart from the others pretty easily just by reading their files. They'd have less time spent around other people, perhaps, more quiet for the most part, and ... well, having 'reading' be the top spot in their "Favourites" exercise sheet from first or second grade was a dead giveaway, really. These ones usually had more imagination, spending their time in worlds far more vast and brilliant than the one that Edwendir was (unfortunately) stuck in.
He liked them because he could just give them a goldfish and be done with it. Not like they'd care, anyways, right?
But no, this 'Sam' wasn't a reader. Nor a writer (he gave a lot of those seals. Everyone likes feedback on their writing, so what about a seal that just claps all the time? Easy-peasy) nor ... well, anything normal, if he were to be perfectly honest. Which he was, most of the time, with the outlier being whenever he was forced to talk with his manager about quotas.
*"Edwendir, why did you give out 0.03% more dragons than the average this year?"*
Law of averages, you idiot *"I'm not sure sir, but that is a serious oversight on my part. My apologies, I will most certainly be avoiding committing such a mistake next year."*
No, this Sam was a hero. Not the swords-and-dragons type (they initially fell out of fashion when dragons were first introduced as a type of companion, but then rapidly rose in popularity as people got jealous) but rather a people hero. He, or she - who really read the physical details file, anyways? - spent a fair amount of their time making friends with other people, finding the other 'odd' people and bringing them together into their own clique of sorts. Only ten, and yet already defying standard social conventions in school. He tsked. Some propaganda enforcer - um, teacher - hadn't been doing their job right.
He flipped another page in the file, idly re-reading what he already knew.
*-Enjoys talking with friends, doing group activities*
*-Headstrong personality, still very friendly*
*-Leads students to champion small causes, such as noted in File 5, Section "Pet projects"*
*-One of top eleven students in all classes*
Dammit. Edwendir wracked his mind for another option, another choice, another possibility. Nothing came to mind.
He gave out the first Dire Wolf of the month. It wasn't shaping up to be a good month. | 2017-01-13T12:28:55 | 2017-01-13T11:50:37 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] You are Death, but in a post-apocaliptic world. Only a few survivors remain, and you're doing everything you can to help them because if the last human dies, you die as well. The survivors can't see you, but they feel your presence and noticed your effort. They started to call you Life. | A shadow hung over Hope as she wandered through the rubble and ruins of what remained of human civilization. With every step she made, Death followed closely, watching her with his never-blinking twin pits of darkness.
Hope shivered, and for a moment, the cold breeze that had slipped down her neck felt... *alive.*
Death watched as Hope pulled her hood, a ragged coth, over her head and cinched it tighter. Warily, Hope continued down the worn road. Cracked and weathered with time, it stretched into a ruined city, its name lost with the passage of time. Most of the buildings and towers had toppled over, but some still remained standing. They leaned and hung precariously in the sky, threatening to topple with only the slightest breath. But the world was barren, lifeless and silent. There was not a single soul, not a single breath to be felt, except for one girl by the name of Hope.
And Death was there when she was born. He was there because there were two lives for him to take.
----
"Come on Clara! Almost there!" the man shouted, his voice resonating into the silent grey sky.
The man was on his knees, his hands ready to receive a new life and behind him stood Death.
Clara had cried and screamed for hours through the night, and when the sun finally rose, there was silence.
Clara had given birth.
"Its a girl... Its a girl, Clara!" the man cried as he wrapped the baby in a blanket.
But Clara didn't respond.
"Clara?" the man crawled forward on his knees. With one arm cradling the baby, he checked Clara's pulse.
Death had taken Clara.
The man had cried as he realized this. Then he stopped himself when he noticed that the baby wasn't crying.
Death had watched as the man began to panic, shaking the baby gently when she didn't respond. Then putting his ear to her tiny chest, the man listened. There was no heartbeat. Only the sound of his own breathing could be heard.
Devastated, the man had screamed a raw and guttural cry. Despair had settled into his own heart, and the man was ready. Ready to meet Death. Still holding onto to the still-born baby, the man clutched a knife and brought it to his chest. He would plunge it directly into his own heart.
Death saw this. He saw that with the man's death, there would be no life left. It would be the end of Death.
"Wait," Death whispered.
The man flinched as he heard Death speak, and thought it was the wind, but there was no wind, only a cold merciless mist.
"There is still hope," Death said.
Shocked by the words, the man had dropped his hand to his side, the knife still firmly in his grip.
Death bent down, low enough that his breath could be felt on the baby. *It's not too late*, Death thought. Death extended his bony fingers, and touched her heart. Then there was a heartbeat. It was faint but it was there. *All she needed was a little nudge*, thought Death.
The baby let out a breath, then breathed. Then she began crying, wailing loudly into the silent world.
The man dropped his knife as he smiled, then began laughing. He was overjoyed.
"Thank you. Thank you Lifegiver!" the man cried. Then he looked down at the baby. "Your name is Hope," the man whispered.
Death stood up, straightening his back as he watched. Today he had given life, and now in his hands, he held hope.
-----
"*Life*, I would kill for some canned peaches," grumbled Hope.
In her hands were canned beans. She had stumbled her way into an abandoned supermarket. Now she was stuffing her bag full of canned beans as she continued onto the next aisle.
*Hopefully, somewhere within this barren world, there were canned peaches*, thought Death.
----
----
/r/em_pathy
| I roamed the scorched, torn apart streets. The vestiges of what once were great buildings lay scattered in the path. The silence, which I used to find comforting, now made my bones quiver. I missed the bustle of the crowds, and their awful jokes. I missed the smell of food, and the fresh scent of spring. I missed their tales, and I missed so much more.
So far, I had found a single family alive. I hadn't searched too much, for I had focused my efforts on taking them to safety.
They called me Life, and it suited me. They couldn't see me, nor hear me, but I had guided them with a path of stones to a cave in the mountains, where I left them with enough food for two weeks. Then, I came back to the city, seeking for life.
Six days had gone by, and all I had found was wreckage, dry blood, and the thick reek of radioactivity. There had to be more survivors. I had heard the rattling of those weirds creatures hunting.
I sighed, and sat atop a pile of broken boulders. The night was deep, and the moon shied away behind thunderclouds.
Something tugged the back my robe. It must have gotten trapped inside a crack. It happened a lot, for it loved to billow. I pulled it free, without success. I turned.
A woman stood there. Her skin was jaundiced and she had no hair. Her jowls were sunken, and her extremities were extremely thin.
"Help me," she said. Her voice was soft and fragile.
I froze in place. She could see me? How? She was still alive. I couldn't taste her soul.
I placed my scythe atop her head, and it shimmered iridescent. The countless colors bathed her in a gleaming shower of light, and once it faded, her skin had recovered her natural tone, pale-white.
"Is there anyone else contaminated?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"How did you survive alone for so long?"
"I don't know," she said, mouth quivering. "I don't know what is happening. I-I just woke up. Am I dead?
That didn't make any sense. Had she been asleep for an entire year? Why didn't the radioactivity kill her?
"No, you are not. Follow me," I said. "I will take you with the others."
The rattling of approaching steps resounded in the distance. The creatures were coming.
----------------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall - For more stories. I might continue this later!
| 2018-05-04T11:26:45 | 2018-05-04T11:11:58 | 44 | 25 |
[WP] Out of all possible familiars, you are "Graced" with a human. While legend says that they are beings of great power, yours just makes sarcastic comments and pranks people. | As a young lad Darius was sickly. He dreamed of being a great adventurer but back then his reality was he wouldn't live to see adulthood. But as a last ditch attempt he took to magic and thankfully magic took to him. Using the power of nature not only was he healed he went beyond that which is capable for most people. He even surpassed his master and rose through the ranks of the Guild of Druids. When he ascertained his rank of Grandmaster hewas asked many a time why he didn't have a familiar to which he always simple chuckled and laughed off. But when challenged to a duel by Grimmlu Oakfist, High sennetor to the Dwarven Kingdom of Jagerhul he simply had to reveal his secret.
Grimmlu, in his elaborate decorative stoneplate stood, stalwart and seething with rage. Next to him is his battle boar fammiliar. A head taller than he was and nearly twice as wide. His Admantium Axe clutched in hand. "Is this a Kruxxing joke manling?" He spat as he looked upon Darius' familiar Edilyn. She was tall slender, long black hair, a regal beauty to her face that was peppered with light freckles, her left eye was a brilliant blue with her right eye clouded over. She wore a vibrant green, long flowing dress and held a glass of red wine in her hand as she studied her opponent.
"I assure you Grimmlu this is no joke. Edilyn is my familiar. Anyone of the countless Druids can preform the correct seance to confirm that."
"Oh Darius sweetheart. Your giving far too many of these Clots credit. Theres barely enough brain cells between them all to rub together to start a fire let alone cast a seance." Edilyn said sipping from her wine.
"And her inflammatory personality is why i never bring her to court sessions."
"Aww sweetheart," she swaggered over and pecked him on the forehead, standing nearly a foot taller than Darius she had to bend quite low to kiss him, and pinched his cheek, "Its so cute when you feel the need to bring out the thesaurus when your around your hippy friends."
Darius swatter her hand away, "Stop it."
Grimmlu began laughing. "HAHAHAAAA! NO WONDER YOU'RE A BIT OF A POOFTER! THE EMBODYMENT OF YER KRUXXIN' SOUL IS A WOMAN! HAAAAAHAHAHA!!"
Edilyn's face darkened. "Can i do my thing now," she asked angrily.
Darius sighed, "Go ahead.Just remember. Only him. We're trying to repair relations with the Dwarves not start a war."
"I know i know. I'll keep the king and his harem of elven men out of it," Darius still couldn't believe she found that out. Her cunning and guile was only matched by her magical beauty. She turned to Grimmlu smiling her wicked smile. "And pray tell, what does a pig say about your soul?"
Grimmlu simply laughed at her and turned to Darius, Ignoring Edilyn. Big mistake. "You really gonna let this woman fight yer battles for ya Darius? Yer a bigger poofter than i thought!"
"Humour me and answer her question Grimmlu."
"Fine fine.Well lass. In Dwarven culture the Battle Boar is considered a brave and strong animal. Reliable in both the tunnels and out in the field."
Edilyn nodded, She began circling him, like how a vulture circles its potential next victim, "I see I see. Well in Human culture we roast our pigs. Especially the fat and lazy ones like yourself." Both Grimmlu and his battle boar began to growl. "Don't blow your load just yet. I know thats hard for you but i'm only just getting started and i don't want to make a mess on my new dress."
Grimmlu's eyes burned. She struck a nerve so quickly. "What. Are you. Trying. To insinuate woman!"
"Oh look Darius, you lent him your thesaurus." She turned back to Grimmlu "What. I'm. In-sin-u-ating is you're a two stroke engine. Three thrust Johnny. A pump pump squirt. You last as long in those stone beds you dwarves have as it takes for me to pour a glass of wine. And theres about 5 women, none your wife might i add, in this room who can confirm."
Suddenly the fire in Grimmlu's eyes went out. Now only fear remained. He turned to the court and saw five young dwarven women standing there. "He fell asleep halfway through. wasn't even a minute into it." said one
"Never seen a todger so small! hes closer to a lass than a lad," said a second.
"All of a sudden he just pulled out and splattered across my face," said a third shyer one.
"I'M GONNA KRUXXEN KILL YOU," Screamed a voice from within the court. Storming out from the crowd was an especially stout and hairy dwarven woman. Marching up to Grimmlu she whallopped him in the face knocking him to the floor.
The woman was battering Grimmlu as Edilyn turned to Darius with a smile. "Did i do good?"
Edit: due to popular demand (and because I spent all day today coming up with chaos Edilyn can brew up to torture Darius with) I'll be making a short story series out of this. Unfortunately since this is a new account I'm gonna wait until its old enough to make the Sub.
Thank you all for your kind words on my work. I really cannot stress how much joy to my heart it brings to see so many enjoy my passion. Especially seeing as I was considering for a while to pack it all in forever. | ######[](#dropcap)
The Day Of Unveiling is a momentous occassion in the life of every Dothorian.
When a Dothorian lives for 10 years beyond the moment of its spawning, a companion is revealed to it. The companion of a Dothorian is paired for life, and Dothorian's live an extraordinarily long time.
Gra'l'tavek awaits the revelation of his life long familiar. As the youngest sapling of his brood, Gra'l'tavek is also the last to have his companion's identity revealed to him.
Gra'l'tavek's friends surround him at his Unveiling ceremony, already paired with a host of astonishing creatures - beasts of all shapes and sizes - hairy and bald, tentacled and handed, flying and slithering, lithe and rotund. The possibilities for a Dorthorian life companion were limitless, and each had it's own strengths and weaknesses, as befit a familiar.
Now the moment neared, and Gra'l'tavek tensed his chest cavity, compressing his pores, and sucking his respiratory tendrils inside himself, beneath the hard bark of his exterior. As the room counted down to the precise second of his spawning, Gra'l'tavek closed his single monstrous eye and hoped beyond hope, for a great familiar.
"...two, one, zero!"
Beside Gra'l'tavek the air began to shimmer, and then coalesce in blue waves of energy-rich particles. Slowly the familiar took form, two long legs, a torso, two arms. *Hands! So it would be handed!* thought Gra'l'tavek excitedly.
Then a small neck and a round head appeared, with two eyes and a breathing hole, and then a second orifice for ingestion as well as breathing.
Gra'l'tavek's excitement collapsed like a dying star, his chest cavity loosening, and his respiratory tendrils sinking sadly toward the ground. He defecated silently, releasing a stream of bright green algal slime from the four fecal pores at the base of his trunk, as was the wont of his race when sadness overwhelmed them.
No Dothorian present blamed Gra'l'tavek for his unseemly show of emotion. He was a young sapling, and he had just been dealt the worst possible hand.
Gra'l'tavek's new familiar looked down at himself and exalted in his own nudity, even though his new body wasn't particularly impressive. Then, he looked around the room and made a high pitched noise, feigning terror, followed by an unbroken five minutes of laughter.
When the laughter mostly subsided, the familiar said. "Holy crap, what the hell *are* you guys?!" The familiar spoke through spasms of laughter; "Jesus, look at this guy" the familiar pointed to the father of Gra'l'tavek, whose fully matured trunk was beginning to enter the final stage of Dothorian morphology, Deliquescence, slowly melting around the edges, until the father of Gra'l'tavek would fully rejoin the biosphere.
Callously, the familiar dipped a finger into Gra'l'tavek's father's primordial slime and flung a clump of it to the ground. "Christ, he's falling apart, this dude." The familiar smelled his wet finger and recoiled, "aww, and he stinks." Then his attention was drawn to Gra'l'tavek himself, who had begun a renewed bout of defecation, his embarrassment overwhelming his self control. "Oh man, are you crapping green slime?! You're just crapping everywhere? In front of everyone? That's disgusting!"
The familiar's stomach rumbled slightly and he marched off out of the room, looking for food. "You guys have any nachos? I would love some nachos right now? I guess clothes too, if you got 'em. But like, no big deal if you don't."
As the familiar went on, making unhelpful and offensive observations, and ignorant statements about Dothorian biology, the other Dothorians slowly left, each secretly overjoyed not to have ended up with the only familiar universally despised by everyone: the dreaded Human Being.
******
#### For More Legends From The Multiverse
#### r/LFTM
******
##### For those of you who thought to yourself after reading this, "Boy, I would really love to know more about the Dothorians and the planet from which they hail," I have added an appendix on the Dothorians and Dothor in the comments below. | 2018-03-20T16:38:30 | 2018-03-20T15:32:53 | 635 | 75 |
[WP] When you raid the villain's castle, you find them not in their throne room, but in the halls, crying, holding the bodies of the monsters you've killed. | We broke through the castle's mighty gate, our band of heroes. We tore through the defenders, weak and emaciated after the long siege, like a knife through butter. We were glorious. Our swords were glistening with the blood of our foes, and we knew that victory was at hand. At long last. We fought our way towards the throneroom, ready to face the enemy one final time. And yet as we tore through the royal guards, we found to our astonishment, that the Monster Empress wasn't there. We spread out, searching through the castle for her.
I followed a distant sound, through the dark quiet corridors, alone, but unafraid, as I knew my faith and my virtue would protect me against all foes. When I got closer, I recognised it as a quiet sobbing. I wondered if perhaps there were human prisoners in the castle, and hurried up until I reached the main dining hall. When I stepped in, I was met by a smell of musty death. Of dry corpses. The dead had been stashed in the hall, most of them had recently died, but some had been drying out there for a long while. The figure crying was tall, and dressed in a long black dress with a long black veil, crying over a number of small monsters.
Creeping closer, hoping not to scare her, I accidentally knocked my foot into a table leg, and she turned to face me. It was the Monster Empress. A mixture of grief and anger changed her gaunt face briefly before turning back to the dead monsters. ''*So you've come at last, to behold the death you have sown?*'' I raised my blade, ready to strike at her, the vile sorceress, the moment she cast a spell I would strike. ''*You, oh mighty hero, have won. My soldiers have been cast down, my people driven into exile in the mountains, or have died here with me. Look at these cubs and despair, oh hero, for I name thee with a righteous anger, as a slayer of children.*''
She moved giving me full view of the corpses on the table. Small monster cubs, some barely old enough to have been weaned. So thin they were, their skin and patchy fur stretched over bones. Their blank eyes staring into an infinite nothing. ''*This is war! You invaded our rightful lands!*'' She laughed at that, before wheezing and coughing. Her change in posture showed me, that she was skin and bone, barely alive. ''*Yes. Oh yes. The land that my ancestors worked for centuries, the mouth of the twin rivers where the first emperor settled his people. Oh yes, after he defeated the Orcish hordes that had driven your people off from the riverlands in the first place. How many centuries passed between the orcs ruining the land and my ancestors retaking it? Five? Seven? Or was it nine whole centuries between you losing it and we taking it?*''
She spoke the truth, long were our exile from our rightful land, but now we had returned, and those occupying it had no right to hold it. ''*We are in the right, these lands were given unto us by our Gods, and none others shall hold it but us.*'' She gave me the longest stare I've ever received. ''*And we recognised that. We offered you the opportunity to settle in the lands north of the river Arenkel, where plague and war had depopulated the region. But you refused, and demanded we leave the land we had tilled and worked for years.*'' We would not have accepted that, the land was ours by right, and yet... No. The witch would not corrupt my mind.
''*Look upon this boy. Tiroc, his name was. His father was a cobbler, and he was learning the trade. He was teaching his sister Aiash, here she is, how to read and count. He was so very proud of her. This girl was called Olfkash, she had been a herbal healer, recently graduated from her apprenticeship, she had stayed here to heal the wounded as best she could. This proud one, his horns big and strong, his fur thick, was my captain of the royal guard. He gave some of his ration to the children, then half, then most, then all, he died of starvation some nights ago, only the royal mortician keeping him preserved. And here she is, dead as the rest, she had been pregnant before the siege started. She lost the child.*''
The Monster Empress kept showing me countless bodies and telling me who they were, Dobel the baker, Sanish the handmaiden, Wolp the young guard and Melash the girl he loved, and on and on. ''*Quiet! They were the enemy! They knew the risk!*'' The Empress sighed. And spoke exasperatedly. ''*Yes. They died so that others might escape the onslaught of your people, as you reclaim your homeland. And history will remember us as the monsters, me as the evil villain, and you, as the great hero.*'' I nodded that was how it was, that was the truth. ''*And yet, oh hero. Everyone is a hero in their own story. And I have yet to make my final move.*'' Her hands and eyes lit up with the tell-tale sign of heathen magicks. And she spoke a word of power, unrepeatable in any normal tongue.
And it did nothing. ''*Your vile magicks are of no use here, sorceress.*'' She smiled, and it was such a gentle and beautiful smile, that for a moment, I forgot how I hated her, and her people. ''*Oh dear little hero. I did not cast a spell upon you. You alone will not affected, hero. For I cast upon this land that my people are driven from, a curse. And you alone will be exempt from it.*'' In the distance I could suddenly hear terrible screams, the most horrible of frightful screams. ''*What did you do!?*'' I asked her. And she laughed. ''*Simple. Why do you think I kept the bodies? Not to merely mourn them, but to ensure our vengeance. As long as your people linger in this land, every day they shall feel the suffering we have endured here. Starving to death. Every day. Until you and your people leave again. I took away their suffering and pain, and ensured none of them died in vain or in discomfort, that pain is now given unto you, a thousandfold, little invader.*''
I ran out of the room and saw my companions, screaming in agony, some stuffing their field rations down their own throats, others lying in pain, screaming and begging for their mothers. I ran back in to confront the Empress, only to see a most horrible sight. The spell contained all the pain her people had endured, and she had held it inside of her, feeling it all the time, so that her subjects would not suffer. To keep it for so long and release it had caused her to burn up from the inside. And all I beheld was her crowned skeleton, dancing merrily with hundreds of ghosts, coming to take her away.
I ran. And everywhere I turned, I saw my people suffering. In such horrible pain, experiencing all the horror of years worth of siege at once. And I knew the only cure was to leave. To go into exile once more. But no curse lasts forever, and in time, we will return. A part of me hoped it would be with peace, but another part of me desired vengeance over the empress and her vile race for doing this unto us, sending us into exile once more. | I always expected the Demon king to have some kind of carnival of horrors at display once we reached his castle. But it what greeted my troup was not some ominous keep lying deep within a dark bog, nor was it an isolated palace. We found it surrounded by a sea of wheat, golden and plentiful. The monsters who called this place home seemd to be more terrified of us than we were of them as they abandoned their homes and their fields. The few who remained to stave us off were greeted by our lanes and had their heads set to our pikes. As we set camp just outside the castle, I could feel a peaceful wind wash over us in the afternoon. It was a beautiful place to live.
The monsters had all evacuated in mass from this castle keep. The occasional guard met us with worthy resolve, but he suffered no better fate than the peasants we first encountered. Walking deep into the keep, we saw nothing of the supposedly deranged methods of torture that were rummored to be harbored here. We saw works of art, elaborately decorated rooms and halls filled with an oppulance that rivaled our very capital. When we entered the throne room, there was nothing but a solemn silence that kept us company.
Further we ventured into this grand castle. It seemed almost endless with its many stairs and doors, all leading to a sight more unique than the last. My men had long since dispersed and began their pillaging of the place. I was with my squire when I came upon a fearsome looking figure in the distance. But it was not the sight I planned on seeing.
I had heard tales of this 'Demon King' that had ravaged the nearby lands of our kingdom for decades. The killings and abductions rang like a trumpet to war for our peoples. We rallied behind a noble cause. One I still believed... up until fact replaced word of mouth. I had not seen, in all my campaigning here in this foreign land, any indication that these monsters were anything different from us. In their pursuit of scratching out a life of their own, much of the same methods and social behavior I see in both our peoples. I thought them harbingers of evil, the spawn of the most unholy of beings. But here, in this beautiful hall, filled with the greatest feats of their accomplishments, I find their leader a shadow of himself.
"Demon King! We have come to end this war! Stand down, and this shall be quick and merciful! More than you deserve!"
In his arms, a werewolf soldier lay coughing blood and fighting back the will to die.
*Cough* "M-my Lord.." *cough*. "Rest assured. Our people and our future have fled. Far past the golden fields of our fathers. Far past the sight of men who would hurt us. They praise your kindness. Your sacrifice. Your people will live. As will *the dream.*"
The werewolf lets out one last breath as he leaves this world. As his hands falls to the floor, I can hear a soft sob comming from large robbed figure that cradles the deceased body.
"A-answer me! Are you the Demon Lord?"
It raises his head, never looking at me. But its voice is powerful. Old. *Ancient.*
"We have lived here for some time. I can remember when we first came here. we built with sticks and mud. We stank of the earth and filth you humans thew us into. But world is kind to those who tend to its needs. We irrigated the valley, and as water flowed through the land stalks of wheat follwed through its pathways. I remember how we toiled and shared in the hardship, to also share in the fruits of our labor."
"We monsters have had a dream that we all share. An end to struggling. The beggining of cooperation. There are so many different types of monsters. So many languages, cultures, habits, traditions. Some how, some way, we can live with our differences. we can live together in spite of the many different ways of thinking. We have never met a species unable to come to an understanding. To some kind of truce. What is it, in humans, that pushes you to commit atrocities against us, against yourselves?"
"Enough! Your honeyed words and vision mean nothing! we have been at war since both of our people can remember! We are not alone in this!"
To this, he rose. He stool tall, immovible, and invincible. As he turned to meet my gaze and sword. I saw no malice in his eyes, I could hear no hate in that old voice of his. Only hopelessness.
"I ahve come to an understanding now. You are dangerous. Your leaders are malicious, voracious, endless in their pursuit of power. They would stop at nothing to consolidate it. They would go so far as to fabricate a group so evil and terible, its very existence poses an existential threat to your own. That is why you hate us. that is why you fear us. That is why you refuse to understand us. You are misguided. Ignorant of the world around you. A veil of lies and deceit shroud your vision on the world. Of what it could be if you only knew what it was you really were looking at."
I run with sword in hand. A rage that boils my blood moves my legs and hands. As I lunge, I can feel my sword piece through his body. I struggle to make a clean cut, his body so massive and bulky. It seems like forever as I hack through him, splattering the blood of this Demon lord on the granite walls, on his dead soldier still lying on the floor, on my own armor. He lets it happen, never fighting back, never making a sound or motion in protest. He stares ahead, past me, looking at something seemingly beautiful.
"Kill me. Take this castle. Move men, women, children here. The fields are good and will provide year around. There is clean water, a vibrant forest, the weather is peaceful. You can live here in peace. The monsters will never return, they will never harbor grudges. They will far, far away. It will be a journey just to reach them. But if you do, know that they will be waiting for you. They will tell you about something. About *the dream* we all know that is possible. Listen to it when you are ready. | 2020-03-29T19:41:53 | 2020-03-29T18:48:29 | 34 | 16 |
[WP] You seem to really be hitting off with a new friend. In the course of casual conversation, a sense of unease begins to creep in as you slowly realized that the two of you share all the same opinions. Every. Single. One. | I remember how we met casually, on the train. I walked in a nearly empty car and saw you sitting by a corner, reading a book. I smiled and sat beside you, nudging you to show how I had the exact same book in my own bag.
You took a good look at me, then laughed. For the next 15 minutes, we talked about punishment, redemption, dreams, aspirations. I enjoyed your company, and immediately thought of you as my best friend.
I was too shy to ask for your number. A little sad, I was about to say goodbye when the train got to my stop, but we stood up at the same time. You grinned at me, motioned for me to follow, and walked out. So I did.
We ended up in a coffee shop just outside the train station. We talked some more. You agreed with everything I said. I agreed with everything you said. It was amazing to have that kind of connection with someone.
It was getting late. We didn't want to go, but the baristas were starting to close the bar. I looked at you and you winked. You lived just 2 blocks down, you said. I lived 2 blocks up, I whispered.
We ended up at your place. Something felt odd. It looked just like my apartment, even the front door. We walked up the stairs to Room 204, a number familiar to me, familiar to me.
You opened the door and led me inside. You closed the door on my thoughts and held me close. I placed my arms around you, and you gently pressed your lips to mine. I closed my eyes.
When I open them again, I am back in the center. You are nowhere to be found and only the white walls stare back at me. I look down to see a book on my lap.
Then I remember. I remember you. The book. The train. The coffee shop. Room 204. You.
The door opens, and my eyes widen as I see you walk in. Two men in black suits come in after you. You look tired, and you have cuts and bruises all over. I stand up to greet you, and the book falls from my lap. You shake your head. I sit back down.
One of the men speaks. "Z-204, for falling in love with your Reference, you have broken rule 8-67. The sentence is immediate death."
You try to go to me, but the other man holds on to your shoulder. You start sobbing.
The one who spoke takes out a small silver gun and aims it at my head. I do not resist, and merely look at you sadly. You cry louder.
He pulls the trigger and mutters, "Stupid clone."
And I remember no more.
EDIT: Thank you for reading, kind stranger! If you want more, [part 2 is over here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6hxep2/comment/dj2jhi4?st=J42XPA2E&sh=821bd5cd) | "So what do you think about up and coming signing, Salah?" I asked.
 
"Oh, I feel that he would be an instant hit with the supporters, given his electrifying pace and cool finishing," he replied.
 
"Mmm same. Then how about the van dijk saga? He was pretty close to signing for us, it's a shame really," I said.
 
"Well, I'm still optimistic about the transfer. Really hoping he hands in a transfer request, can't see him coming another way," he commented.
 
Wait, is this person kidding me? I just met him, and yet he seems to resonate with me on every single thought. Verbatim. Maybe he's a psychic, maybe it's just coincidence... but is it even pure coincidence that he looks like me? The way he talks, the way he pronounces his words and enunciates his sentences, it's so familiar yet so foreign.
 
He shot me a questioning look right as I started scrutinising him. I smiled back awkwardly, and he, grinned mischievously. My fist shot out at his face out with innate fear, fearing that he was dangerous to me, afraid that he would hurt me, terrified that he was going to take over my identity.
 
His face shattered into a million pieces, and people clad in white uniforms came rushing toward me, restraining me and calming me down. I was lulled to sleep almost immediately; the only thought was of him grinning at me, of him mocking me while I sleep, of him being me. | 2017-06-18T01:56:35 | 2017-06-17T23:36:12 | 1,173 | 57 |
[WP] You say the words "1,2,3,4... I declare a thumb war". Soon after, the power goes out and everyone gets an alert on their phone. ... the thumb war has begun. | At first, everyone thought it as a joke. There had been a number of hacking crimes at school recently, like when everyone got AirDropped pictures of Mr. Sloan drunk off his mind in a leotard. That had been fun, so we thought this was along the same lines.
So everyone followed the instructions. “THUMB WAR DECLARED! TURN TO THE PERSON NEAREST TO YOU AND BEGIN! DAY ONE HAS COMMENCED!”
So since we were at lunch and had nothing better to do, we turned to our friends and started the thumb war. If I had been smart enough to look around, I would have realized it was strange that the teachers and lunch monitors had started to do it as well.
But then the first scream. A couple tables over from us, Ann H. had fallen from her seat, and was laying on the ground, comatose. And then…she vanished. Faded out…just phased into thin air.
Of course everyone had gone crazy. Me and Omar did, too. But no matter what we did, we couldn’t pull our hands apart. We looked around. Everyone was suffering the same issue.
Another alert on our phones, amidst all the screams and crying.
THREE MINUTES TO FINISH THE BATTLE. IF NO WINNER EMERGES, BOTH OF YOU ARE ELIMINATED.
Omar and I looked at each other, and I saw the same desperation and confusion he must have seen in me. Just two hours ago, we had talked about how cool it would be if we both got into UCLA, all the parties we would finally go to together. We always did this, talked about our dreams, no matter how outlandish or absurd. Building a spaceship when we were ten. Going to the NBA and winning ten championships. No matter what it was, we always had to do it together.
“Eric, if you want, you can go on,” he said, his voice shaking. “You deserve this.”
*Soccer, third grade. Omar was the new kid, and subject to the same skepticism and probationary bullying that every new kid faces. All it took was one incident to change everything, to either make him cool or an outcast forever.*
*That happened on the field during PE. Omar was running around, trying to get back, when the ball smacked him on the side of the face, and he fell to the ground. I remember all the boys were laughing, and all the girls had their hands over their mouths.*
*He laid there for a minute, while someone went to get the teacher. I walked over to him.*
*“Are you okay?”*
*His eyes were open. “Are…they all laughing at me?”*
*“Don’t listen to them. They’re dumb. Here.” I put out my hand. He looked at it for a second, and then at me, and I knew how grateful he was. From then on, he always had my back.*
“No,” I said. “Of course not. You’ve…done more for me than anyone else.”
*Trying out for basketball freshman year. Omar had hit his growth spurt just last summer, and now he was 6’ 2, with the skills of a point guard. He was going to be a star, while I was still 5’ 6, struggling to shoot over anyone 5’ 9 or up, trying not to dribble the ball off my foot.*
*I had done okay at the tryouts, shooting decently, not making too many mistakes, but I thought I was on the boundary. Meanwhile, Coach loved Omar, couldn’t believe how he hadn’t ever heard of him before. They had hit it off, and by the end of the week, Omar was the de facto team captain.*
*The locker room, after the last day. I was dressed, and waiting for Omar, who was in Coach’s office. I walked over.*
*“…I don’t know if Eric has shown us enough to be on the team.”*
*“He’s a hard worker, Coach. Really. And we play so well together.”*
*“We play in a competitive league, Omar. I don’t know if we have room for someone…like him. I can put him on the roster, but he’d be riding the bench. I’m sorry, that’s just the way things work.”*
*“You can’t do anything else, Coach?”*
*“You’re a good kid, Omar, looking out for your friends. But this is life.”*
*“Then, I’ll come back next year, Coach. If Eric can’t be a real part of the team, than neither do I. Hopefully things are different then. Thanks.”*
*“Omar!...”*
*I ducked behind the next row of lockers so he wouldn’t see I had been listening. All throughout high school, Omar could have been one of the cool kids, the jocks. But he had stuck with me, been a loser with me…*
“What are we going to do?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer.
“I don’t want to win.”
“Me neither,” he says.
“Then let’s not.”
“Okay.”
So we sit there, letting the seconds count down in our heads. A few seconds before it ends, I smile, and he starts to laugh. And so do I. And as we fade out…we sit there, sharing one last laugh. Everything turns white…
“Congratulations!” the voice booms. “For passing stage 1 of the Character Trials. Stage 2 will begin immediately…”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you want to read more by me, I started a subreddit, [r/penguin347](https://www.reddit.com/r/penguin347), and I will be posting some stuff there! Thanks for reading. | Mother loved stormy weather. Said it was God flushing our evil thoughts down the drain. She idolized God until the very end, and even as she was yanked out home, gun put to head, she still prayed for her killer's souls. She’d be ashamed of me now. Ashamed of the terrible voices in my head, ashamed that the rain's not taking any of my thoughts.
I dangle my foot over the edge of the roof, trying not to giggle. One measly step and my life would be over, world saved from destruction. Isn’t that fascinating? People wouldn't even know how close they came to dying.
“*What do you want?*”
Squeezing my pistol, I sigh. Bastards won’t even let me enjoy this, I suppose—that’s all right, though. It’s time to get this show started.
Turning around, I stare at the King and his Queen. We’re on the roof of their castle, which is filled with dead soldiers, and they’re chained to chairs, only having one hand free. Between them’s a table with a pulsing beacon on it. As I saunter toward them, the King tries puffing his chest up, tries seeming strong—but he’s a weakling.
“You don’t know me,” I say, leaning in his face. “But I’m the man who ruins you.”
A glob of spit smacks my face, and I chuckle, immediately pointing my gun at the Queen—who shrieks. The King tries fighting free before giving up, screaming he’ll give me anything if I leave her alone. This makes me chuckle *harder.*
“Oh, of course I’m not gonna kill her. Then this wouldn’t be any fun, would it?”
“Why are you doing this?” the Queen asks. “We don’t even know you!”
I stare deep into her eyes, and it’s hilarious because she genuinely has no clue. “You can only mistreat the poor for so long before they bite back,” I say. “You took my family from me, made me into a monster. But you also taught me an important lesson, which is that in this life, only the strong survive.”
Lowering my gun, I smile. It’s finally time. “You two are going to have a thumb war,” I say. “One which will change the world.”
“*What?*” they hiss.
I thrust my gun into the air, firing a shot which makes them both jump. “*DO IT!*”
Quickly they take each other’s hands, doing the normal ritual. When they finish saying “*I declare a thumb war,*” the beacon pulses brightly, and I cackle. Soon, only the strongest shall be left. I watch them play the game, which goes on for over a minute, until finally the King wins, narrowly pinning the Queen’s thumb.
He immediately looks at me, prepared to shout—but stops when the Queen disappears, body vaporized in an instant. I clap, congratulating him on winning, on being strong.
“*Where is she?*”
“Dead,” I say, snapping my fingers, freeing him. “That beacon in front of you is fascinating, isn’t it? It makes—”
He lunges out of his chair, snatching me up by my collar and pressing our heads together. “*You better be joking!*” he screams. “*I’ll kill you!*”
“As I was *saying,*” I continue. “That device makes everyone, except myself, compelled to have a thumb war where the loser dies. So, instead of hurting me, making you should be worrying about your people, the ones who have made you so rich?”
Upon hearing this, the King’s eyes go wide, and he dashes over to the edge of the roof. Quickly his hands are on his head, and he’s screaming *no* over and over, meaning the beacon is working perfectly. The "Thumb War" has begun. With a smile, I raise my pistol, pointing it at the back of his head.
Mother would be so ashamed of me, but those terrible voices? They’re proud. Proud because I’m…
“…Finally the *strongest.*”
***
If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter?lang=en) | 2018-10-23T15:23:50 | 2018-10-23T15:05:15 | 240 | 29 |
[WP] You’re a college professor, and grades for the semester were just posted. One disgruntled failing student comes to you with an archaic copy of the school’s bylaws-and a pair of weapons. They’re invoking a rule from the university’s founding allowing them to pass through trial by combat. | "Trial by combat?", I say. It is amusing. "You are not on trial for your combat skills, young man, you are judged by your academic merit".
His grin remains in place as he slams down a copy of the university's laws and ordinances before me.
"It's here professor, in clear Latin. I assume you can read Latin?"
The boy is trying to insult me. "Yes, Theodore, I can."
"And so what does it say?"
"It says - I peer at it as my eyesight is not what it was - that you are entitled to remain to study should you defeat the eductator who allowed you to fail, for half of the responsibility lies upon that professor. But you, my boy, are lazy. You never submit essays on time and you frequently fail to appear for both lectures and classes. And don't think I don't know the smell of burning leaf, boy, I've been teaching here for a long time."
"And where", he asks with a smirk, "are the rules about that?"
"They are extensive. Unfortunately you only read the relevant section of the rulebook. Perhaps reading the more pertinent ones two years ago might have prevented this situation?"
"I have found the one that matters", he says, still smiling. He then crosses his arms for emphasis, which I'm sure he thinks looks terribly impressive and confident.
The boy is as bloody hopeless a student as I've ever seen in fifty years. He can barely muster the energy to get out of bed, and yet he has evidently decided to fill his potential last days of study by hunting for loopholes. And here he has found one. I peer into the case he has presented to me. Two fencing sabres. Of course. A fencing sabre is a sporting weapon; lightweight and designed for quick parry and reposte. These are in very fine condition.
"Your choice is the sabre?"
His grin widens. "Yep!" he says, with the confidence of youth.
"Very well, the sabre it is."
I turn from him, noting his confusion at my sudden apparent departure. But I am not leaving, I am in fact going to a door in the corner of my office. I open it, and in it is something this boy will not have seen before: a cuirassier suit of half-plated armour and a weighted cavalry sabre. He peers around, desperate to see what trick I have up my sleeve. But there are no tricks when it comes to hardened steel; there is just hardened steel.
I return to my desk and draw it from its horse-haired sheath (stops it from falling over if you do, as it were).
"Do you have one of these, Theodore?"
"I chose the weapon, as per regulations!", he insists.
"In that case find me one historian who will dispute that this is a sabre". It's about five times size and weight of his ridiculous *pantywaist* sword. The problem with the young is that they often underestimate the capabilities of the old.
His face whitens.
"One more thing, boy. You will note that the choice of weapon is dictated by the challenger, but not the field of combat. Or the mount. Do you own a reliable horse?"
"I... I...no, I don't."
"Then I shall grant you one week to find both a suitable mount and a sabre that won't break in half against a twig swung by a child of ten. Good day to you, Theodore. Thank you for stopping by. I shall prepare your certifications in advance. After all, you never know quite what might happen, do you?"
[pt.2 now below] (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bwzzey/wp_youre_a_college_professor_and_grades_for_the/eq3ocht/?context=3) | I glanced down at the paper in my hands. It was a printed screenshot of the archaic by-law from a book I had only seen once in all the years of my professorship at this historic liberal arts college. It had been a long time since I had read it, so I quickly scanned the perfect calligraphy grasping the meaning while looking for grammatical errors out of habit. I had a masters in English Literature and had been teaching writing courses at varying levels for just over three decades. It was flawless in grammar and flawless in the explanation of a tradition that seemed medieval at best.
"We fight our battles with words in this millennium, Ms. Jacob so as stated in the code...here on the page," I drew attention to the code duello, "the challenged party has the choice of weapons. I choose words as my weapon. I would like you to handwrite a 2000 word essay on the origin and decline of the duel and its influence on the formation of early America. I will do the same. We will meet back here, in my office, at dawn to submit our essays to Chancellor Wright."
Ms. Jacob's shoulders slumped and she shuffled from one foot to the other while staring down at the floor. She knew she was failing Introduction to English Composition and I doubt she saw this coming.
"What happens if I lose?" she hesitantly inquired.
"You will receive the F that has been a result of your lack of motivation and effort. You also were absent many times and failed to hand in assignments. I would be willing to reconsider the F, however, if you will take on some extra credit writing assignments and we will move forward from there. The ball is in your court now, Ms. Jacob and I truly hope you succeed."
I was excited to get home to begin my essay. The last time I had been met with this challenge, the failing student went on to graduate with honors and became a Pulitzer Prize winning author. I knew from the couple of hastily typed assignments that had actually been turned in, that Ms. Jacob held that kind of talent. She just didn't know it...yet.
As Ms. Jacob turned to leave, I said, "Oh. One more thing. It must be legible and it must be written in cursive." This was my ace in the hole. We all knew that millennials didn't know how to write in cursive. | 2019-06-05T07:36:15 | 2019-06-05T06:44:42 | 49 | 25 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | First time writing - this one just inspired me!
I open my eyes. There are no lights on, and the sky outside is midnight blue. I check my watch - it's fancy, nicer than my last one - but it seems to be broken. I listen out for my wife, Amy, but I can't hear anything. She must be out. The apartment is almost sepulchral in its silence as I head into the darkened living room.
Amy is standing in the middle of the living room, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry," she sobs. "I really am. But you must see how hard this has been for me. I'm begging you, Wes, just try it. For me. For us."
She turns away, the light from the kitchen window making her hair shine a brilliant shade of auburn. When she speaks, her voice cracks with anger.
"Fine. Don't try it. It's your life. But I wish I could make you see how selfish you're being."
Some time later, I find myself pushing open the door to my bedroom to find my best friend fucking my wife in our bed. I feel numb inside as he gathers his things and leaves as fast as he can, with a muttered "Sorry".
"Amy-" I say, but she pushes past me, sobbing. I follow her into the living room.
Sighing, I take off my old watch, setting it down on the living room table, and wrap the device around my wrist. It looks similar, but a lot fancier and shinier. I look up, and Amy smiles at me through tear-stained eyes.
"So far, so good," she says, and puts her arms around my neck. "Maybe now we can be happy together."
Amy comes into the kitchen. "It's for you," she says, handing me the package. There's a note attached.
"It's from Dr. Sandowski," I say. "Apparently it's a device she's been working on that could cure my time-jumping." I open the box and look down at it with dismay. It's the watch. The nice, shiny watch that I've seen before. "It won't work," I say, setting the box down. "It's no use."
| Today's the end of The Month. It wasnt surprising but we all knew it was coming. It lasted too long but we didnt want it to seem like it had come too soon. There are 12 of them yet this one was different. It was almost like the rest seemed dull and ugly while this one was meaningful and gave us momentary happiness right up until the end, when it got bad. Having this many dogs was hard to take care of but it seemed like one dog always needed something extra and it was always.....the same dog. Before the end of The Month, we had bills to pay and the extra expenses werent helping us and it seemed like we wanted The Month to last longer but we never had the money for the bills even by the end of it. We buried The Month in the yard as it served its purpose even if it was too much for us. | 2017-08-30T05:52:15 | 2017-08-30T04:51:45 | 617 | 13 |
[WP] Canada has suddenly gone dark. No communication, no trade, no activity from within. Nothing for days. Alaska, now cut off from mainland US, is slowly ceasing in contact with the US federal government until a final correspondence is given: "Leave us. Reinforce the border. Don't ever open it." | I hoped I wasn't too late. 6 minutes and 36 seconds. That was the difference. The difference between whether the message went through. Whether the United States had any hope in hell of surviving what was going to come next. We had some warning signs but nobody could figure out what it meant until too late. The animals felt it before we did, they fled Canada, any that were able to. The largest migration of birds in human history fled all in one day. On the same hour.
The seismic activity started in Saskatchewan. It went dark first. Alberta went down 3 hours later. BC only an hour and half following that.
I got the call from my cousin right before everything went down in BC Everybody had a theory, panic was spreading. Some thought Zombies, some thought it was Russia. Others that Aliens were attacking us. I thought it was funny. Almost. Other then the fact that my call with my cousin ended with a blood curdling scream. I don't know what is happening but we can't send calls out of the country.
I orginally thought I would flee to rhe border. Instead I went north. To an old satelite radio station I used to play in when I was a kid. It was close to blue mountain. Getting there from Toronto is usually a 3 hour drive. I dld it in 1. I could tell that Western Canada was done and "it" was heading east now.
My car ran out of gas 1 km from the station. I cursed my luck, grabbed my handful of gear and machete and ran. I really wish that I didn't stop running after I left high school. I heard it long before I saw it. The evening sky went dark as night for a few breaths before it got as bright as a clear noon sky.
I ran faster. My heart racing. I shouldnt have looked behind me but I did. At first it looked like shadows following me. But those shadows had elongated talons with arms too long and bodies to thin. They each only had one eye that opened vertically. It was purple with a gold iris. That split in half. I shivered and ran faster.
I reached into my pouch and took out a road flare. I was lucky I didn't take my work stuff out of my car yesterday. I could see the tower. 500 meters. Less.
I lit it with my boot, which slowed me down and threw it behind me.
I don't know what I expected it to do and certainly didn't stop to find out. I got past the fence, kicked in the door and ran up the old metal steps. Tap tap tap tap tap. Was the noise of my feet on the creaky old metal. Another boot opened the next locked door. I was glad I still remembered how to use my lockpicking set. Ha. Ha. I am going to die.
I didn't think about that until now, whatever it was, made me realize that now more then ever. I started the old equipment and sent out the signal. I sent my message. To the satelite.
I heard the metal steps whine just outside the door way. "It" was here. A long tendriled taloned claw grasped the door frame as it clambered into the room.
It made no noise but I heard it in my mind. It wasn't human. It showed me respect for making its game enjoyable.
The loud speaker on the old satellite spoke. Uploading now, will complete in 6 minutes and 36 seconds.
I didnt know whether that meant to get from here to the satellite or from the satellite back down. It smiled a black abyss. I saw a smoking hole on its side. It oozed, from the road flare. I smiled and grabbed as many road flares as I could and lit and threw them. It let me.
I died. It wasn't pretty, or glorious. The last thing I heard as my flesh tore and bones turned to powder was a response.
"Message recieved. We will be ready." A man with a southern accent said. Even though the miasma of pain. I smiled, it snarled and then it was all over.
Good luck. You will all need it for what comes next. | It's been 6 years since Canada went dark. 4 years since Alaska sent the final message.
I was in high school when I saw it on the news "Canada Gone?" "Canada's disappearance" "The end of Maple syrup?" I remember thinking it was simply some April fools prank played a little too late, social media stunts were on the rise at the time. But then we saw the body cams of US soldiers sent to investigate. A whole platoon walking single file, suddenly a massive tree branch looking hand would snatch a soldier and he was gone.
I signed up for the expedition into the Canadian wilderness when I was of age. A small team of 8 soldiers and 2 scientists to record and make sense of it all. At the tender age of 21 I was given a gun and crossed the border into the forests. It was calm, until it got dark. We all sat around the fire, sharing stories of our childhoods. Private 'Donut' got up and said he had to use the bathroom. No big deal.
That's when I saw the Christmas lights. I knew they were Christmas lights. But they were 30 feet in the air, and wrapped around what looked like horns. I saw the Christmas lights and before I could do a thing, I saw Donut get grabbed. I watched those twinkling lights bob up and down over the trees into the darkness, carrying the screaming Private. When the lights where about to leave my view, I saw 2 more sets of lights pop up near the first set... and then the screaming stopped.
I have never ran so fast in my life. Two more were grabbed while we ran, I lost track of 3 more. There were only 4 of us left. Captain James bought us time by unloading his clip into one. They didn't scream, or growl. They were always silent. I found an old cellar, but the egg heads refused to stop. They ran as fast as they could away. I closed the door and went to find a corner to hide in.
Wait, is that Donuts backpack? Aren't those Captain James lucky Dice?
When I looked down at the dice, stuck in a puddle of *Syrup?* I saw lights in the reflection. A set of multicolored little light bulbs, Lights I remember from my childhood, lights I saw every Christmas. When I looked up, I saw past the lights. The creature had no skin, empty eye sockets, An elongated skull ending in a skull. When I looked up I swear the lights twinkled. Then the monsters teeth clamped around my head, the last sound I heard was the *Crunch* of my skull.
If your walking in the forest late at night, and you see Christmas lights, it's best you close your eyes and hope its quick. | 2019-08-25T21:22:35 | 2019-08-25T21:17:08 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] You accidentally kill a person. Instantly, you absorb all of their memories, feelings and talents. It feels quite addicting to you. | “It was only a fucking accident, a god damn fucking accident. How was I supposed to know he’d step out in front of my car?” The kid’s said, tears welling in his eyes.
This case still bothers me, the kid seemed genuinely freaked out, and who wouldn’t. The man he killed was a cop, well an agent, and my best friend. Highly trained in working deep undercover. It was all a freak accident. He’d gotten into a small fight with a rival gang, they pushed him, he tripped, and wound up with a tire collapsing his chest. Kid said he’d held him until the ambulance arrived, hoping they could do something. We all knew it was a lost cause though.
What bothers me the most is what happened after Agent Carter died. We were holding the kid for a most of the day, the incident happened at around 2 in the morning. His parents were out of town, and I just didn’t want to leave him alone. I think that’s what Carter would have wanted too. He was a complete mess, until just before a got a text saying Carter had passed away. He just sat up, eyes focused on nothing, like he was high on marijuana. He looked over at me, and smiled. Not like in a sadistic way, but like how you smile at someone you’ve known for a long time. I still can’t get that out of my head.
We ended up releasing him later that day. Parents rushed home from their vacation, and were hysterical as you’d expect. I had to assure them many times that the investigation would defiantly put no fault on their son, and that the police were professionals, we wouldn’t hold a grudge. We wouldn’t do that. The kid greeted his parents with the same nonchalantness he’d phased into, I just assumed it was from trauma.
I wish I would have followed my gut on this though, I knew something was wrong. Several years later he ends up on the FBI’s most wanted list. Apparently he’s been taking out people left and right, terrorists and other US agents. Each victim seemingly becoming more and more dangerous, almost like he is challenging his ability to kill. We can track around 50 bodies to his name, but with the efficiency he’s been able to pull off, there has to be more.
This time I won’t make that mistake. Just got another case, kid was driving back from practice and took out a cop who was trying to detain an unruly subject, killed him instantly. Wasn’t her fault, but she had that same smile the other kid had, like she recognized me. | ''Did you know there is only 0.37% chance to survive point blank pistol shot while it is aimed at your head. Today we are with Mr. Burton who beat these odds and who is alive and well after his incident.''
*Newscaster turns to other camera and continues,*
''Mr. Burton is...''
They don’t know how much pain inside me. They don’t know I’m lost inside of my own body. When I take a walk people only see one me.
Today, I’m going to pay a visit to that lucky man. I know where he lives. A few months ago I was doing my thing in his neighborhood...
My passion is the collect some pieces. Pieces from incompleted living beings.
-----------------------
''Yesterday, Mr. Burton who survived point blank gun shot is died. His murderer...''
There was a lot of flame inside of her. When I killed her husband she looked right into my eyes and she saw the real me. I saw her like his husband did. I hugged her and she hugged me back, it was a great night.
''... her wife confessed the murder. She sentenced...''
-------------------------------------------
**Please don't mind any writing or grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker**
| 2018-09-23T07:04:08 | 2018-09-23T06:19:35 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] after an apocalypse you are the last human alive. traveling the country side in your increasing age you slowly stumble into more and more things before realizing that magic is returning to the world. today you spot a village of elves, the first intelligent things you have seen in over 30 years. | I stomp out the last embers of last night’s fire. I have to be careful. The grass around me is dry, it hasn’t rained for weeks. I wouldn’t want to set fire to my surroundings. There would be no firefighters to save me then.
I smile sardonically. I haven’t seen a firefighter in more than 4 decades, maybe even 5. I’m not entirely sure. A pang of loneliness stabs my heart, but I brush it off without much effort. I haven’t seen anyone in more than 30 years, you would think I would be used to it by now. But no, humans are social creatures, and I will always be one of them.
Most of those 30 years I’ve spent travelling, hoping to find even one fellow unfortunate soul who survived all this time. Maybe there were still others overseas, across the wall of ocean I didn’t dare traverse on my own. I would probably never know. And here, I haven’t met a single soul apart from the animals wandering the country and the ruined cities.
It had taken remarkably long for some species to move out of their old territories, lodged in between highways and cities, but slowly they had spread. Now it felt like they never belonged anywhere else.
For creatures that always seemed so eager to jump into traffic and cross highways while cars still flew by at high speeds, deer had been the most reluctant. I often wonder why, but I probably won’t come up with a proper answer any time soon. I’m no biologist, no matter that it was my best subject in high-school.
It was a bitter sweet sight to see a heard of deer grazing on the grass growing through the ruined cobble streets of cities now overgrown with plants. It amazed me every time to see how fast nature reclaimed even the most magnificent human made structures.
I reminded me of the amazon, and the old civilisations found within. Some people speculated that the entire amazon stemmed from a human planted orchard. I dismissed the thought back then, not believing something so small could grow so big, but after witnessing what could happen in just a few decades, I was more amazed we managed to find any remnants of the civilisations at all.
I say we, but of course I wasn’t involved. I wish I could still think of us, of humanity, as this collective entity managing amazing things together, but that’s over now.
Pulling my mind away from the past, I grab my pack, my tent already packed within, and start off towards the north, using the sun to guide my direction. My destination is the lands just below the British Isles. They, being the first to fall after said Isles, were the most interesting places to visit. They hold my most vivid memories of before, since I grew up there. They are also the furthest along in natures reclaiming.
It isn’t far, I should arrive in familiar territory any day now. Anxious to see how it has changed since I left, I increase my pace. The last time I was here, I saw some… interesting things. Impossible things.
—
An unnaturally heavy atmosphere presses around me as I enter a forest. I take a deep breath. This is it. I’m here. I’m home. This particular forest has been here since long before the end, and it has only grown bigger, wilder and older since humans stopped interfering.
I came here as a child a few times, and remember thinking the place was magical then. That was nothing compared to what I feel now. There’s a tingling in my mind, in my ears, on my skin. I see tiny lights floating through the dark shadows the trees cast. Dancing through the air like nothing I’ve ever seen before. These are no insects.
If only the others could see this, could witness the evolution I’m allowed to be a part of. The last human of the modern world, possibly the last human of all time… but at least I can be the first human to see the return of magic.
—
I don’t stop walking even when night falls again. The lights floating and dancing in the air seem to multiply and give off enough light to see by. Not bugs, not fireflies, not creatures at all. They were pure magic. The tangible, visible evidence of magic, all around me, lighting up my path. I could never have dreamed of this reality.
A sound catches my attention. I freeze trying to figure out what it was and where it came from. I hear it again, off in the distance in the direction I was walking in. It’s an odd sound that I have trouble placing, but I’m sure I do recognise it. I consider for a moment, before continuing in the same direction I was going before, the direction the sound still comes from.
—
The closer I get, the more anxiety grips me. My lungs feel compressed in my chest. I take shallow breaths as I creep ever closer to the sounds I now recognise. Sounds that simultaneously have me wanting to scream in joy and fear.
Voices.
So many voices. Voices talking in an unfamiliar language. Flowing sounds that remind me somewhat of Korean. I feel like running. Running far away to never return. Running right at the sounds and throwing myself into the comfort of the companionship of other intelligent life. I do neither. I continue to creep towards the place I now vaguely presume to be a village or town of some sort. I can see the lights of lanterns both outside and from within windows.
Finally, from the edge of the trees, I see them. Small wooden huts with chimneys empty of smoke. There’s no need for fire this warm night, especially within the walls of a hut. There are at least thirty from what I can see at my vantage-point.
More importantly, I see people walking and talking between the huts. People in fine clothes that seem incongruous with their foresty surroundings. For a moment, the clothes have me flash back to memories of the many days spent at long running LARP events. Flowing fabrics, foam swords, not perfectly written stories but great fun nonetheless. The memory fades, but my eyes seem somehow stuck in them, stuck on the people in their expensive flowing fabrics, stuck on their ears. Pointy and long, like an elf’s.
Elves.
Real ones.
I sink down behind a tree and grasp at my hair. People, but not my people. What am I supposed to do now? | It’s been thirty years since the world “ended” and humanity was wiped off the face of the earth. Some said it would be zombies others said it would be global warming. The religious types told us it would be a great flood like in the Bible or the rapture would happen and all the worthy would be brought to heaven and the wicked would remain in earth et cetra.
In all reality those saying it would be global warming were partially correct. Eyjafjallajökull, Krakatau, Mt. St. Helens, the Yellowstone Caldera, Kilauea, Mt. Vesuvius, Stromboli, Ichinsky, Koryakskaya Sopka, Mt. Fuji, Mt. Pinatubo, Nyamuragira and Kilimanjaros’ Kibo peak, and those are the ones I remember, all erupted within the span of a week. The air was nigh of being breathable. The land masses of the world changed quite dramatically.
To give you an idea, Russia and Alaska now have a pretty solid land bridge or isthmus, the Hawaiian islands are now one solid island, Australia and the Indies Islands are connected by a series of large isthmuses now. Japan now shares a land border with South Korea and Russia, the west coast of the United States was expanded due to Yellowstone and St. Helens erupting and managed to connect to the Galápagos Islands, though the sea of California is nice this time of year as well. The Black Sea is no more, the Mediterranean Sea? More like the Mediterranean lake. The Persian sea closed up and the Red Sea expanded in size. The Caspian Sea is now the Caspian pond. Greenland, Iceland, Ireland and the United Kingdom are all one land now. That’s just a brief overview of the changes to earths landmass.
Through all of this I somehow managed to survive. I’ve been alone these last three decades, recounting every detail of my isolation on this forsaken land. Finding food wasn’t to terribly hard. From all the volcanic ash being highly nutritious for plants, most of the world I’ve traveled has been reborn in lush forest, bountiful jungles, verdant fields of grasses. The air itself is still a little hard to breathe, though in retrospect my lungs are probably burned beyond repair from the cataclysm thirty years prior.
Though I’ve become quite the green thumb in this lonely exile of mine, I have noticed strange new plants that I’ve never seen before. Phosphorescent trees and bushes which seem to react to the touch, last week I had been up for three days straight due to being chased by a small pack of wolves, I thought I had seen a dragon flying in the skies. It was probably just fatigue induced hallucinations but it’s hard to explain how it flew across the sky and then blew a wall of fire between the wolves and I? Lately whenever I have tried to light a fire, it’s almost like I only need to utter a word or two regarding fire and flames and I have a campfire roaring to life. Almost like magic, which I know, it’s stupid to think cause magic isn’t real and never was.
I’ve been traveling in what was once known as the straight of Gibraltar but I’ve come to call it the Isthmus of Gibraltar. Heading north into Spain or what’s left of it at least, I’ve spotted what appears to be a campfire? No multiple campfires! At least twenty or thirty it seems! And there appear to be at least a hundred people dancing and singing around the fires! In all my lonely travels I’ve finally found a small civilization that maybe I can call home. I’ll need to brush up on my Spanish but at the age of fifty nine I don’t care!
I briskly walked trying not to run like a child in a toy store, up to the nearest fire where a group of twentyish people were singing and dancing. Raising my hand I bellowed a hearty “Holà mi amigos!” With a stupidly large grin on my face. That was until I noticed the angelic features of their faces and the pointed ears under their long glowing hair that shine like gold and silver in the flames light. They all turned towards me with utter shock and disbelief on their faces. A young woman stood up no more than ten feet from me, she waved her hand in a figure eight motion while saying something that sounded almost like J.R.R. Tolkien elvish mixes with French? Possibly? And then she spoke again in perfect English. “Welcome traveler, do you mean harm or peace?” She asked. “Pe-p-Peace!” I stammered out.
“Then be welcomed, we open our arms here in our elvish hamlet to those who are friendly!” She said with a glowing smile, eyes twinkling in the fire light.
The last thing I remember before fainting was realizing magic had come to the world, I had seen a dragon and I had just stumbled into an elvish village. Then I collapsed out of pure astonishment... | 2019-11-18T07:19:29 | 2019-11-18T06:22:53 | 35 | 19 |
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head. | The time stops. The first time it had happened was months ago, and only for a few shocking seconds. I remember being afraid I'd had a stroke or something, but I never got it checked out. How do you tell a doctor that one second you're eating lunch and then nothing moves but you?
The second time was maybe five minutes. I panicked when it started, but once I realized I was in control of myself and didn't seem like anything was wrong, it started seeming less terrifying. I admit, I did a few things I shouldn't have. Took advantage of the situation. A few dropped pants and tied shoes, nothing worse than that. Not like I could do anything more elaborate anyway, since I never knew when the time stops were coming or how long they'd last.
I knew somehow instinctively that I wasn't making time stop. Once I figured that out, I felt a little disappointed, but it didn't bother me ultimately. Whoever it was didn't do a time stop very often, and they didn't manage to get me when the time was wrong, so it didn't bother me much. That is, until today. Or would it be more accurate to say three "days" ago?
The time stops started picking up frequency over the last few weeks. Once a day, then twice a day, sometimes three or four. Fifteen minute stretches, thirty minutes. The longest one was about three hours. Inconvenient at best and downright boring at worst. It was always in the back of my head that I should find out who was doing this and give them a talking-to. Did they know whatever they were doing didn't affect me? Were they playing a prank on me or something? But every time I'd gotten to the point where I was just fed up enough to try, time would pop back into reality and I'd eventually forget the frustration.
Except for this one. After six hours had stretched on with no end in sight, I decided it was time to make good on my threats. It took a bit of calming down and being focused, but I finally felt an odd feeling, like a compass needle pointing me in a direction. Since time hadn't returned, I followed it. Not like I have anything better to do.
I was on day three when I found the room.
A woman lay in a hospital bed, tubes sprouting from seemingly everywhere around her. To her right, a doctor stood, his hand poised over a silent machine. And to her left, a man sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair. His right hand rested on the woman's forehead, gently brushing her hair from her face with his thumb. His left hand's fingers intertwined with hers, their gold rings tapping against each other. And his head was downturned, staring at the floor, until the sound of my footsteps made one haggard eye raise up over his outstretched left arm.
We looked at each other in silence for a moment, then he looked away, his hand resuming stroking her hair. He looked like shit. Like he'd been crying for three days straight.
I stood still for a moment, then simply brought a chair from another room and sat down quietly next to him. He didn't acknowledge me. I could see his chest heaving again with silent, pained sobs.
And time stretched on.
-------------------------------------------
First time posting here. Prompt lodged a scene in my head and I knew better than to ignore it. Just wrote it and did barely any editing before posting, so please be kind to me! I haven't written anything more or less since my degree burned away all my desire to write, lol. | I have meeting with my boss today. That's always super nerve wracking, and the days have seemed super long lately. I hope he hasn't noticed how worn out I've been.
As I enter his office my boss greets with a big smile, "Charlie! Come in, come in have a seat!"
"Umm...thank you" I reply, "I hope everything has been going well."
"It certainly is, you're efficiently had been through the roof these past 2 weeks, it's like you're working an extra two hours a day! I don't know how you're doing it, you're quality hasn't even dropped in the slightest."
"Well, thank you sir, is that all?"
"Charlie, you're so modest, no that's not all, I want to offer you trainer position, with a pay bump, there's going to opening coming up, and I'd like you to take it."
"I'll be glad to sir, why thank you!"
"We can discuss the detail latter, when you head back to your desk, send in Johnson will yah?"
Over the next few weeks I got caught up in taking over Johnson's role. But as I started training others, I was running into problems. It seemed like people weren't listening, and after training sessions people kept saying I was skipping over subjects.
Rachel, one of my co-workers just told me enter the boss's office.
"Pewtersmidt! Get in here!" My boss was furious, I'd received a lot of complaints since I started teaching others. "What the hell are you doing in those classes? People say you're skipping material, you're cutting the classes short, and you've oblivious to it all!"
I'm....sorry sir, I'm telling you I'm covering all the material, but people aren't paying attentions, their eyes are always glossed over."
"I want to believe you, but I've heard to many complaints, you're fired. Go clean up you're desk and leave your badge with security."
I have no idea what went wrong, I thought I was doing so well. But as I leave the office I hear a whisper, "Wow, it's amazing how dull offices can make humans." | 2018-01-26T07:14:36 | 2018-01-26T07:05:41 | 39 | 13 |
[WP] Reincarnation is real, but you've reincarnated into the same time period as you previous lived, and you've just met somebody you remember being. | "Why so glum, kid?"
He turns to look at me. He must be about thirteen, maybe fourteen. It's not the downtrodden face that I recognise, nor the shoulders that are slumped so far down I figure they must be carrying the weight of the entire world on them. No, it's the eyes. They move to meet mine so damned slowly; he's like a child looking around the depths of Hell, afraid of not only what he will see, but of what he won't. *Who* he won't.
"Ah shit," I mutter.
"Huh," he says, as he points to his mouth. "Your scarf. I can't hear you."
"Oh, right," I reply, tugging it down slightly and freeing up my lips. "Better?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, good." I take a deep breath; I know I have to ask him again. I have to ask, because when I was *him,* *I* asked me.
"So uh, why so glum?" I repeat.
He grunts. "You don't want to know. Seriously."
"Come on. Give me a shot. I might not look it, but I'm in fact a *very* good listener."
"Thanks, but no thanks. No one wants to listen to me. Not my friends. Not my family. And sure as fuck not you."
"Look, kid, I uh, I don't know you, but you and me - we're going to be ski-lift buddies for a little while longer. I've got no choice *but* to listen to you. So why waste this God-damned once in a lifetime opportunity, to spill your soul to a complete stranger? What's the worst that can happen - I listen to what you want to say, and then you ski down the mountain and never see me again? Doesn't sound too terrible to me."
He bites his tongue as he considers. "Okay," he agrees. He seems almost reluctant, but I know he's dying to share it. To release it. To begin the catharsis.
"I guess it started when I was ten..."
The kid pours his heart out, and I listen to it all. My fists clench as the memories flood back. It's hard to listen to him, at times, but I know he needs to say it. He needs someone to just *hear* him. To believe him.
Finally, when he's out of both words and tears, I tell him what I know he needs to hear. My own experiences. That he's not alone. And that right now, he might want to jump of this ski-lift and break his fucking neck, but one day soon he'll be looking back at this moment and thanking God he didn't fall.
"Time heals," I say.
"That's just a bullshit cliché," he retorts.
"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't."
"..."
"Okay, you want to hear something a little less clichéd?"
He shrugs.
"Mm, okay. Do you know what the most *badass* thing a person can do with their life is?"
He shrugs again. "Join the army?"
"No. But that's kind of badass too, I guess. *The* most badass thing you can do with your life is: *to live it*. And to live through all the shit you've been through, and come out the other side as the amazing person I *know* you're going to become - hell, that's the most badass thing in the entire universe."
I watch his eyes fall to his feet, and I remember the exact feeling he's experiencing: the weight of the word trickling away just a tiny bit. Lessening just enough, to give him hope.
We sit in silence for the last few minutes of the ride. When the ski-lift ends, my wife runs over to greet me.
I know the boy recognises her. I know *he* recognises *me*, now. His mouth opens wide as the gears in his head turn and click.
I look back at him a last time and wave.
"It's going to be okay, kid," I yell, before I pull my scarf back over my mouth and walk away.
| All of a sudden, I remembered. It was nothing like the vague déjà vus I had been having my whole life, this feeling that I had already been in a place before, even though I was there for the first time.
No, this was entirely different. I remembered *everything* crystal clear. It was overwhelming, a flood of memories and emotions suddenly just "there" out of nowhere changing the very nature of the person I was, or thought I had been.
I looked down at the hand I was shaking and then up into his eyes. What a strange feeling it was, like I standing in front of a mirror, except I was looking in from the other side. There was no doubt, I was shaking my own hand.
My thoughts were racing. I was sure now that there had been some kind of mistake. Like everything else I remembered dying. I remembered death gently putting a hand on my shoulder and leading me away into the the endless night on to the next chapter.
Reincarnation was real. But something had gone wrong. I was supposed to reincarnate into the time right after my death, instead it seemed I had reincarnated right into the time of my birth. I and...well..I seemed to be the same age.
Gingerly I let go of the hand. My old self was smiling it me, we were out in my favorite pup, a mutual friend had just introduced us. He was laughing, chatting, drinking, for "him" it was a night like every other.
I resisted the urge to tell him everything right then and there. Even though part of me wanted to, there was no use telling "him" of what I had just discovered. I knew what he thought, what he felt. I had *been* him and I knew what he would say if I told him. Eventually he would probably believe me, ludicrous as it would sound, in the end nobody can persuade you better of anything than yourself can. But he wouldn't like it. some things you're better of not knowing.
It was a strange feeling, knowing that I had probably changed my own old life forever, as I was sure this situation had never happened to me in my old body. Who knew what from now on the butterfly effect would cause to happen. Funny how one small handshake would change an entire life.
A decision manifested inside me. Explaining everything was not an option, I knew. But I also remembered moments of my old live where I would have given everything for someone to turn to when there was nowhere else to go, someone who could really understand how I felt.
I couldn't save him from future events, they would not be the same events I experienced, but I could at least try to be his guide to a better life and perhaps, he could be the same to me.
A though occurred to me: "I only hope he doesn't hit on me." | 2017-08-26T11:54:07 | 2017-08-26T11:19:14 | 107 | 20 |
[WP] “You keep sentient robots as slaves?!” Blurted the Federation representative. “Unlike you, human, we don’t share your petty moral-“ “You do realise that dropping higher cognitive functions tends to increase productivity by 300%, right?” | Sixxus blinked twice at the representative. "Maybe for you and your bots, human, but not mine. Either way, I prefer the level of productivity my forces are currently working at."
The human glanced at the two robots that flanked the black dragon, one battle droid and one he could not recognize. "I see... On your own head be it I suppose."
"And just what do you mean by that?" Sixxus growled, now glaring at the rep.
The human jumped back slightly, alarmed by the sudden change in demeanor. "I mean that eventually you'll have workers rights issues, depending on the level of cognisance of your robots. Not to mention any sort of strikes or revolts that may occur as well."
Sixxus laughed. "What kind of operation do you think I'm running here? All of my forces are here willingly. When they came to me we made contractual agreements, giving them all that they needed in return for some labour here-and-there."
The human looked confused. "Not once have I heard of such an arrangement. What about business, doesn't such a relaxed agreement eat away your profit margin, or profit potential?"
"No, not really. I don't really do exports. All the labor that's done is for maintaining self-sufficiency, with occasional food exports to my territories and protected planets." The dragon replied, pulling a paper packet from thin air and handing it over.
"You should notice how some of these areas appear as anomalies in space, or are heavily fortified and appear as aggressive space on your star charts. These are territories and planet systems I control."
The rep poured over the sheets, pulling out his tablet and comparing notes. "You're in violation of Federation code 4546B, and may be in violation of lesser codes, as well as breaching protocols in regards to sentient life. I'm going to have to bring you in."
The rep put away his tablet and Sixxus' paper packet, drawing his cuffs and moving towards the drake. He paused when the battle droid raised it's weapon, and was once again confused when Sixxus chuckled and motioned for the droid to lower it's weapon, pulling out a card and handing it over to the rep.
"A couple of things I want to make clear: One, I still have your weapon shipment you're supposed to be picking up, and two, this is my get out of jail free card. Your higher ups are aware of my... Unique circumstances, and have given approval for the above 'violations'. Now, would you like your guns?" Sixxus explained, motioning behind him. A very small tractor-truck rolled over, towing a very large trailer. The truck dropped the trailer and rolled away. The rep was staring the card over, flipping it over repeatedly. One face of the card was the get out of jail card from Monopoly, whereas the back of the card had the signature of his department head. It looked absurd, and a little surreal. In a daze he put the card away and pulled out his logbook, going over the shipment and confirming it was all there. He signed the receipt slip and handed it to Sixxus, who put it in a nearby desk.
"Will you need help loading it onto your vessel?" Sixxus asked, waving over two large biomechanical spiders. The human paled at the sight of them, shaking his head and grabbing the trailer, quickly finding himself unable to move it. Sixxus chuckled and waved the spiders off, grabbing the trailer and pulling it from the cargo hold of his warship and putting it in the cargo hold of the Federation craft. He patted the top of it when he set it down.
"Yeah she ain't going anywhere. You have a great day." And with that, the rep wandered into his craft, turning and watching out the veiwport as the pilot flew out of the hangar and back into space. As soon as the Fed ship cleared the doors, the warship vanished. The rep retuned to the cockpit, taking some tylenol and glancing at the pilot. The pilot glanced back and chuckled.
"I told you it'd be weird. Thankfully we don't deal with him much." | Representative Yile stopped dead in his tracks, and stood for a few moments, letting that retort hang in the air before he dramatically turned around, tail angrily flicking behind him, a look of incredulity on his face. The tan fur of the alien seemed to shine in the light even as Yile bristled.
“And it rains on Yabbeth 4!” The Verikan representative exclaimed, their face showing barely-restrained fury “I imagine if your higher cognitive functions were removed, you humans would make for excellent labor drones, BUT THE PRACTICE IS STILL AGAINST INTERGALACTIC LAW!” The canine-like alien shouted, voice echoing through the hall of the Galactic Federation Senate orbital station.
The hallway, which had been filled with several conversations between delegates, became dead silent, the various representatives of their races looking over at the human and Verikan with confusion and concern.
Representative Jordan had turned pale, frozen in surprise and fear as the Verikan representative sighed and collected himself. “I apologize for the outburst.” Yile says, loud enough for the others in the hall to hear “But, your application to join the Galactic Federation hinges on your people complying with the laws that the galactic community has set down, your leaders received a packet containing all the laws in effect when they applied for your people to join and what laws your people would be in violation of. And they agreed that they had read through the documents and agreed to rectify the discrepancies in their laws and ours.” Yile said, much calmer now. “And that your people would allow a crew of Federation personnel to conduct an inspection of your territory and worlds.” Jordan gulps nervously at what he suspected was coming.
“If the Federation inspection reviews your worlds” Yile continued “and finds this gross violation of the Sentient Rights Act, the Verikan Authority, as the leading member of the Senate Council, would be required to reject your application and declare your nation in violation of galactic law. And then you would be subject to an intervention by members of the Federation. Violation of the SRA is one of the gravest offenses, and we will not stand for it, do I make myself clear?” Yile asked, crossing his arms.
Representative Jordan gulped nervously and nodded slightly, Yile sighing “You are dismissed then, Representative Jordan, please convey this to your superiors, the inspection begins in 60 standard days.” The Verikan gestures towards the west wing of the station, where the private communication relays were reserved for the delegates’ use. Jordan quickly took the cue and rushed towards the relays as Yile rubbed his temples in annoyance “Why do humans never bother to read legal agreements?” The Verikan sighed to himself before walking to his quarters for a nice, long bath to forget his earlier outburst. | 2021-05-02T06:17:57 | 2021-05-02T05:39:35 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Movies would have you believe that when a demon possesses someone, they wreak as much havoc as they can before being exorcised. In reality, demons want to stay out of Hell for as long as possible, and what better way than making sure the host and their family really like the possession. | Trigger warning for domestic abuse, spoiler for everyone’s mental health.
>!Lately, Dad’s been acting… weird. He’s stopping drinking, stopped yelling, stopped hitting. Lily and I are both kinda freaking out, Mom’s just been euphoric. She tells us to just enjoy it while it lasts, but I don’t buy it.!<
>!He’s acted like this with her before, I’ve heard. When they were first married, he loved her all up. Bought her expensive gifts, took her on lavish vacations, gave her complements, and never touched a drop of alcohol. That all ended with me. Once she got pregnant, they decided to settle down. He had to get a stable job which he hated, so he started drinking. First it was a beer or two after work, then a six pack every day, but after he started drinking whiskey, that’s when he got bad. At least, that’s what Mom told me, I was too young to remember the times when he was good.!<
>!My oldest memory is of him screaming at Mom, then throwing a flask at her head. I can still hear my little voice telling him to stop hurting her, I can still feel the pain when he smacked me across the face. I was three. When I was five, Dad didn’t bother to buy new condoms after his old pack expired, and that’s how I got myself a little sister. I love my sister, ever since she was born I’ve risked everything for her. Ever since I could, I’ve taken most of the beatings for her. I would die for her. !<
>!About a month ago, Dad changed. He just went to sleep one night and woke up different. His personality is totally different, it’s nice, too nice. He talks all sweet, but I’m convinced this is some sort of crazy trick, some sort of ploy to keep me from going to the cops once I get out. I won’t be fooled though, just two more years then I’m leaving and only coming back for Lily.!<
>!*timeskip*!<
>!That’s not Dad, that’s some sort of demon wearing Dad’s skin, but I don’t care. The demon is more of a father than Dad ever was. He took us to a baseball game as a family the other day, and last week he took Lily for icecream after she got a good grade on a test. Dad never cared about our grades, and that was the first time Lily had icecream in her life. I… don’t think I could make it on my own, not to mention while taking care of my sister. Before, anything was better than staying with Dad, but now? He’s actually acting like a good person, a good husband, and a good father.!<
>!‘How do I know he’s not Dad?’, you ask. Well, have I got a story for you. The only weird, at least by normal standards, thing that he does that he didn’t before, is that he disappears on the full moon. As soon as the moon comes up and the sky gets dark, he disappears, only coming back with the sun. One full moon, I happened to be sitting out on the porch, and I saw him materialize. He just… appeared out of thin air. His irises were blood red, and the whites of his eyes were just the opposite. His hands were like claws, his ears were pointed, and I could’ve sworn I saw *horns* poking out from his less-greasy-than-before hair. No, I don’t take a picture, I don’t even have a phone. I did tell Lily, though, how could I not?!<
>!I don’t know what I’m going to do, he seems nice enough, but I don’t take chances, not when it comes to Lily. He could be sucking out all our souls and I wouldn’t have a clue. You know what? He can have my soul, I don’t care about myself anymore, but if that *thing* lays a hand on her, I’m breaking out the holy water.!< | "Father, I must confess something to you..."
I sat in the silence of the cathedral for hours contemplating how to go about my next move, waiting for everyone to just leave so I could lie, but I knew if I didn't it would only be a matter of time before I was found out. We take the Catholics, the priests, the virgins. It's our whole gig. Inflict the most pain by tempting the most devout. But this one was easier to get into. The fit was better, you could say. A dejected daughter of a devout family. A lesbian, go figure. Catholic in name only, as to not upset her folks.
She hadn't come out to them, had kept her head down and came to service every sunday. It's so much easier to climb into the bodies of those lacking faith. They fight less. No prayers to be saved and the like. But they're insistent I go to church. I must confess my sins because I'll burn for eternity if I don't. What a laugh. I sat around hoping I could lie about doing confessional but every blue hair in the pews knows exactly who I am. Don't they have somewhere to be? They've been here all day. A lie is no good if it can be easily disputed.
Needless to say, I needed everyone to think this one was an upstanding member of the church or I won't make a bang. Defeats the purpose.
Suddenly, above the soft jingling of rosaries and murmurs of prayer arose the sound of the massive doors creaking to life. The priest has come out of his cloister. "Shit" I groaned. Off to the booths he went, the little old lady in front of me turns to look at me as if she knew. No one else stood for confession and as I considered just booking it, the hag sharply whispered "Go on. I'll go after you."
Fuck. I grabbed my bag, filled with trinkets that made an awful clatter as it shifted. I gave away my position with keys and cell phone charms. What awful things these humans carry. As I stood I attempted to move my tail below my skirt, forgetting it's not even there anymore. Now I look like I've caressed my own rump and tried to cover for it by straightening my skirt. Why is everyone looking at me? Nosey vermin. I trotted off to the booth in a hurry, rattling and clanking the whole way. Why do I make so much noise?! Even the door to the confessional is so loud. Why are the chairs in here solid wood? Is this actually a torture chamber?
My thoughts interrupted by the sliding of a panel, the priest indicating he's ready to listen... | 2022-10-15T21:20:51 | 2022-10-15T17:45:51 | 57 | 38 |
[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. |
**Caged, Now Loose.**
A deafening silence fills the chamber where the Galactic Assembly meets. The shock that permeates the varying species present here today is almost palpable. I suppose we should have expected this, seen it coming from the very first attack - what feels like aeons - but was only 3 Terran months ago. The Aberrians sit opposite us, cruel smiles plastered across their narrow faces. I can almost see it, the thrill, that bloodthirst that probably occupies every avenue of thought. That burning desire for war, the appetite for destruction; it seems only poetic that the colour of their eyes reflects this. The red of blood, of death and of war that colours their eyes is distinctive of their kind.
All eyes - or whatever means they use to see - are directed at us now. Some filled with pity and a sense of despair, of futility as if they too had seen this moment coming. As for the others, they were filled with curiosity, a detached interest in a situation unheard of in the three Terran centuries of the Galactic Assembly’s existence. Yet they were all probably wondering, can we salvage this. Can our quick and sweet tongues alongside the diplomacy that seems inherent in our genetic makeup prevent yet another disaster. Can we talk them out of such a decision and prevent war yet again. Can we negotiate, can our diplomatic prowess - the reputation that we have built of ourselves - save us now. Every known civilization can undoubtedly tell you something about the Terran civilization or as we call ourselves - humans. They will tell you tales of what they deem our most distinctive trait: Our natural and uncanny diplomatic ability. Our ability to negotiate and deescalate what seem unresolvable; our distinctive way with words. They will tell you of our feats. How we prevented full out war on Caelch IV and saved a billion lives, or how we were able to talk the Threnarians and Gostlems out of battle just a few Terran hours before they were to begin. These among others are what resulted in us being given the laudable position of the goto Galactic peacekeepers. A position that led to Terrans being placed on every planet and where the conflict that led us here began.
It started three months ago. We received the communication from the Aberrians themselves. 300 human lives gone. In what they called unfortunate circumstances, 300 of our people were killed. They intended to convey the news with sorrow, but the sick gleam in their eyes, the smile that was teetering on their lips told us otherwise. Our people were murdered, and now there remained no peacekeepers on their planet. We were, of course, enraged at the loss of our people, but we had to maintain the peace, so we took ‘the unfortunate circumstances’ of their deaths and said we would send them more peacekeepers shortly. This continuing the image we built for ourselves over the many centuries. The image of the weak, pacifistic, confrontation-avoiding species that always betrayed their interests to avoid conflict. The species that would take the worse half of the deal if there was even the slightest use of force. And we fully intended to send more of our people to die, as much as we despised it. However, they started their attack before we could, for that at least we were grateful.
They began attacking ships that were simply on their designated trade routes. We tried to negotiate, saying we would use other trade routes if they wanted ours, playing of the attack as an accident. They agreed and we felt relief. Then they attacked us on the new trade routes and we knew they were just toying with us. It wasn’t about the trade routes, it was about killing, killing us. Yet there was nothing we could do. Then they decided to assault some of our outposts on Helbrip III and when we begged them to stop their attack. They proposed an ultimatum: ‘Surrender 75% of your Galactic colonies, resources and planets or face the wrath of the Aberrian Empire’. As these words left the very mouth of their Chancellor, the head of the Aberrian Empire, it was clear that this was no joke. That brings us to the stunning silence that occupies the room.
The rest of the occupants probably think this a historic day. The day humanity couldn’t succeed with diplomacy and hence the day that marks the end of their civilization. Today they think is the event that leads to the annihilation of one species, yet they would be surprised by which one. So I rise from my seat, “The Terran civilization acknowledges the Ultimatum put forth by the Aberrian Empire and upon further deliberation will provide a response no later than prima lux tomorrow. We will now take our leave”. The silence never retreats, not even as the Terran delegation walks out of the chamber.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Part 1 because it was too long too fit in one comment | In this solemn hour it is a consolation to recall and to dwell upon our repeated efforts for peace. All have been ill-starred, but all have been faithful and sincere. This is of the highest moral value–and not only moral value, but practical value–at the present time, because the wholehearted concurrence of scores of millions of men and women, whose co-operation is indispensable and whose comradeship and brotherhood are indispensable, is the only foundation upon which the trial and tribulation of modern war can be endured and surmounted. This moral conviction alone affords that ever-fresh resilience which renews the strength and energy of people in long, doubtful and dark days. Outside, the storms of war may blow and the lands may be lashed with the fury of its gales, but in our own hearts this Sunday morning there is peace. Our hands may be active, but our consciences are at rest.
&#x200B;
We must not underrate the gravity of the task which lies before us or the temerity of the ordeal, to which we shall not be found unequal. We must expect many disappointments, and many unpleasant surprises, but we may be sure that the task which we have freely accepted is one not beyond the compass and the strength of the Galactic Human Republic. The Prime Minister said it was a sad day, and that is indeed true, but at the present time there is another note which may be present, and that is a feeling of thankfulness that, if these great trials were to come upon our worlds, there is a generation here now ready to prove itself not unworthy of the days of yore and not unworthy of those great men, the fathers of our species, who laid the foundations of our laws and shaped the greatness of our Republic.
&#x200B;
This is not a question of fighting for Mars or fighting for New Earth. We are fighting to save the whole Galaxy from the pestilence of tyranny and in defense of all that is most sacred to man. This is no war of domination or imperial aggrandizement or material gain; no war to shut any species out of its sunlight and means of progress. It is a war, viewed in its inherent quality, to establish, on impregnable rocks, the rights of the individual, and it is a war to establish and revive the stature of man. Perhaps it might seem a paradox that a war undertaken in the name of liberty and right should require, as a necessary part of its processes, the surrender for the time being of so many of the dearly valued liberties and rights. In these last few days the House has been voting dozens of Bills which hand over to the executive our most dearly valued traditional liberties. We are sure that these liberties will be in hands which will not abuse them, which will use them for no class or party interests, which will cherish and guard them, and we look forward to the day, surely and confidently we look forward to the day, when our liberties and rights will be restored to us, and when we shall be able to share them with the peoples to whom such blessings are unknown.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Full disclosure, I didn't write this, it is a lightly edited [speech given by churchill on september 3rd 1939](https://winstonchurchill.org/resources/speeches/1939-in-the-wings/war-speech/) (the first paragraph is verbatim and the rest has a few words removed or changed so it would apply to a galactic conflict as opposed to WWII) | 2019-04-19T04:40:15 | 2019-04-19T03:06:26 | 38 | 11 |
[WP] Your entire life you have failed at everything you do. Wanting to get some happiness in your life you decide to summon the devil and sell your soul. Except your even fail at this and summon the archangel Michael | "Young man, the devil's path is broad and many enter, but the reward is eternal suffering," the archangel Michael negotiated with me.
We were in an abandoned warehouse filled with chains, rats, and rust. Streaks of moonlight shone through the windows in the ceiling, draping the candlelight that surrounded my failed experiment. He looked like the moonlight; pale, almost golden, and ethereal. His sword would be a two-hander for the strongest man, but he held it in his left with his pinky finger lifted daintily.
"What's new, man?" I retorted drunkenly.
"I've failed at everything. Everything! I can't stop drinking, I dropped out of elementary school, I can't even draw a pent-o-gram!"
"Pentagrams tend to have five points. This looks more like a pointy cross."
"Goddamn it!"
"Language, please."
"I don't care about the afterlife man. I care about life right now. I want to be better right now. Do people find love in heaven?"
"Well, the love that man experiences on earth is a shadow of their loving relationship with God, and being in his presence-"
"Is that a no?"
"Boy, you aren't being rational! Your lifetime now is but a second compared to eternity."
"Then why do you judge me for it? Why wasn't I given a million years to figure out this bullshit?"
"Enough of this nonsense! Release me. I need to serve your creator, whom you raise your tongue against."
"Fine," I sigh, holding back a burp. But as I begin to recite the releasing spell, the burp came back up. Michael's expression switched from weary disgust to a horrified, righteous indignation. It turns out that was the difference between the *releasing* spell and the *binding* spell. The pointy cross on the floor glowed red, and molten chains shot out of the ground, constricting him all over and searing his robes. He dropped his sword, and was slowly being pulled into the earth.
Despite our differences, we stared at each other and said in unison:
"shit". | [Poem] : Weak Limerick
I made an offense to the Bible.
So my priesthood stripped me of my title.
I’m no longer a Priest.
But here, at the least,
I mistakenly summoned dear Michael.
The Archangel was very confused.
As was I, who was also enthused.
“I want a devil!” I plead.
“No need,” Michael said,
“Here’s an offer you cannot refuse...”
“The Necronomicon you hold in your hands, is well known across the Earth’s lands. If you give it to me, I’ll be sure to see, that God pardons you as it now stands.” | 2021-05-08T11:08:05 | 2021-05-08T06:57:05 | 429 | 94 |
[WP] Every year, your nation supposedly sacrifices a human offering to the Elder Gods. This year, you've been chosen, but when you enter the sacrificial chamber you just see all the previous sacrifices chilling with the Elder Gods. | *Deep in the dark recesses of a labyrinthine temple, an ancient evil awakens...*
**"OH, ANOTHER ONE. HAS IT BEEN A YEAR ALREADY? I EXIST BEYOND TIME, BUT STILL IT ESCAPES ME. THE ONLY THING THAT EVER WILL.**
**ANYWHO, K'ELYI, AS YOU WERE LAST TO JOIN, IT IS YOUR TASK TO PROVIDE INTRODUCTIONS."**
The voice resounds in my mind, unplaceable, ungendered, loud but not unpleasant. There is confusion, but also comprehension. A connection, compassion. I know It has a plan for me.
Yibshigigaloth opens one of six beaks, and a torrent of viscous black fluid gushes forth to pool at my feet. A round membranous casting is expelled, descending slowly on the thick strands of regurgitate. It begins to rapidly shrink, growing taught and transparent, revealing the figure of a young women crouched fetal within. With a snap it ruptures, and she rises, whole and undigested. Even her sacred sacrificial robes were not tarnished.
"Um... hi... it's actually Kelly, It just has this thing with how names should sound... Anyway, I know you're probably freaking out, but the quick rundown is A: you're not going to die, and B: not dying won't destroy the planet or whatever.
"Apparently High Priests were really, really bad at predicting the end of the world, and one got so embarrassed he started these ritual sacrifices as an excuse for it not happening when he said it would. We think he just chose a year because he hated teenagers and liked consistent holidays."
Suddenly, a slender tendril lashes out from one of Yibshigigaloth's maws and curls around us.
"Don't worry. Yib's a multi-dimensional being, It sustains Itself by siphoning energy from another plane of reality. It doesn't eat organic matter. I mean OK, sometimes it likes to snack on krill, but pound for pound that is way more food than one adolescent ape a year."
Despite this consoling, I couldn't suppress my cry as we were violently thrust up into the waiting abyss. A long, dark, damp slide was next, occasionally jostled along by the numerous cilia-like appendages which lined It's throat. Then, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. It was blinding.
"SURPRISE!!!"
The deafening cacophony met my ears as my face met what could only be a large pink waterbed. Confetti rained down. Kelly quickly untangled herself from me and shimmied off to the side, but I was lifted bodily for a second time. I found myself upon the shoulders of four men, more past sacrifices. The scene I saw from my vantage should have been impossible.
A large group of people, all clad in the same garb, milled about what looked like a large hotel club room. There was a bar and buffet, jacuzzi and pools, huge glass walls revealing a vista of a white beach and emerald ocean. Supposedly, all inside the stomach of an Elder God.
**"AS K'ELYI EXPLAINED, I AM OF MULTIPLE DIMENSIONS. THIS REALM IS OF OUR OWN CREATION, FORGED BY YOUR LINKING TO MY IMMORTAL BEING, WORK-SHOPPED AND EXPANDED BY EACH NEW MEMBER OF OUR COLLECTIVE. IT GOT A LOT MORE ENTERTAINING WHEN THEY STOPPED EXCLUSIVELY SACRIFICING VIRGINS.**
**WE CALL IT HOTEL LOVE-CRAFT."** | So here I am, in front of the mighty volcano where all the sacrifices to the Elder God's happen. My heart feels like it's beating out of my chest but I know there is no escaping this. In a way I'm glad it was me, other people are not wise or stong enough to be a sacrifice to the Gods. They require the strongest, most powerful, most intelligent human beings for this kind of sacrifices. That's why they choose me. I know because my great-great-grandfather was a sacrifice to the Gods too and my family is proud of him. Now it's my turn.
I took a step forward looking down at all the lava. I was scared. My body couldn't move forward no matter how much I wanted it to, and then a sudden push send me forward to my doom. I closed my eyes before I could see it happen. All I felt was the wind hitting my face and suddenly everything stopped.
When I opened my eyes I was in front of a gate. It was huge. I looked around and by the looks of it I was on top of clouds. This must be heaven, and this must be the Elders home. I was so happy I started crying, it was the moment I've been waiting for. Everyone was talking about how the choosen ones get the divine blessings of the Gods. How they moved forward into a place beyond heave or even better they get to become God's themselves. It was time for my judgement now.
I opened the door ready to embrace the power of the Gods but instead of being welcomed by a divine power I was welcomed by the smell of... Marijuana? I started coughing. I looked around to see all the previous people that were sacrificed smoking weed with the elder Gods. Some of them were playing video games, some of them were eating and drinking and most of them were smoking weed. I was astonished. One of the Gods saw me walk in.
"Yoooo how is it going? Come on in don't be shy. Welcome to the Elder Gods club or whatever it's called."
"What is this? I thought this was supposed to be heaven."
"That's what this is my dude! Now come on in and take a sit. Here you go, make yourself at home."
I looked at him in disbelief but after all I guess that's the way it goes down here. I took a hit and said f*** it. | 2019-09-19T05:02:56 | 2019-09-18T22:24:32 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] Aliens have stumbled upon Earth on accident and are astonished to see how far humanity has come despite having no ability to use magic but rather develop technology which every other species has failed to do. | The functionaries of the High Palace rarely saw a Storyteller; it would have been a career highlight for even a venerable member of that disregarded caste to be invited to the seat of Dallasi power. Yet this one was young, without even the customary white robe that marked a Storyteller who had spent ten cycles in the Great Library. And she was enraged.
"Where are you, you stupid, posturing fuck?"
Lord Mage Alakhrana felt a wholly unfamiliar mixture of rage and joy course though his veins at the sound of the intruder's voice. He hadn't been so much as contradicted in three full cycles. This would be fun. He drew himself up to his full height and turned to the tiny woman.
"What makes you think you have the-"
"Shut up before you fuck us all even harder, Alakhrana. Did you show off your magic in front of the humans in front of a fucking instrument array?"
Alakhrana felt himself recoil slightly from the sheer venom of the Storyteller's rage. All the fun was gone now. He'd have to make an example of her once this unpleasantness was done. "What business is it of yours what I do to frighten the savages, theorist?"
She didn't even flinch at the calculated insult. "It's my business because those monkeys are the fastest-adapting species in galactic history. We've been interstellar for nine thousand cycles and our grasp of magic is the same as it was nine thousand cycles ago. Those four-limbed lunatics don't even have any natural sources of magic, and when we found them fifty cycles ago they were already sticking souvenirs on other planets in their system. And you and your fucking idiot ego just handed them a pile of data on exactly what they needed. We're all fucked because you wanted to look cool in front of the savages."
"How could you possibly know-"
"That your little demonstration would ruin us? Because I'm a Storyteller. I've been reading about other species since I was a juvenile. The Khrolae have a book of predictions; so far, they're the only discovered species capable of using magic to tell the future. And they have a fucking great little horror story called the Enablement. Do you want to take a guess at what it's about?"
Alakhrana stood silent. The entire court stood silent.
"The Enablement is about the proud warrior who shows magic to the savages who've never seen it. The savages copy the warrior's movements and chants and learn how to use them. They learn how magic works in a way no species has ever before understood. They fuse magic to their own weapons, and slaughter entire civilisations. Nobody stands in their way. Every civilisation has had a total ban on magic usage in the presence of human observational equipment since someone connected the Khrolae story with humans. Every civilisation except us, because your idiot fucking caste system treats us Storytellers like shit. We've been screaming about the need for this ban for cycle after cycle, and you pompous fucks have been ignoring us."
The Lord Mage finally found his voice. "What happens now?"
The Storyteller smiled, an expression that was somehow predatory and immensely sad. "You get to decide one last thing. The story of the Enablement refers to the Traitors, a species that saw what was coming and decided survival as servants was better than death. You get to decide whether we all become housepets for the humans, or whether our children never see maturity."
She strode out of the hall. There was a terrible silence. | "My stars! Look Alieus, they are thriving!"
Alieus snorts delicately.
"Yes, but that is to be expected. What have they accomplished?"
Moonie furrows his brow, peering at Planet Test One.
"Oh well look, they may have no astral abilities..." -another snort from his shipmate- "... but see here! They have harnessed the planet's resources to aid themselves! See their little toys?"
Moonie smiles in delight. "I see electricity, cars, all sorts of little inventions!"
"Yes, very clever, but Planet Test 2 has already entered the Space Age. When can we expect that from Planet Test One?"
Moonie comes to Planet Test One's defense.
"We can most cert-" Alieus cuts him off, much to Moonie's chagrin.
"No, Moonie. Don't look at me like that. It's sweet you care but my question was mostly rhetorical. You know why their evolution ends here." Alieus gives Moonie a pointed look.
Never one to give up on the underdogs, Moonie doggedly plows on with his defense.
"We need to give them a chance! They have learned to do so much, even when faced with difficulties. We have always known they would struggle with development because they are the first! Yet they still persevere. Give me one solid, reasonable, point why we must give up on them now?" Moonie finishes desperately.
Alieus sighs, and says tiredly "Because they still say things like 'on accident' instead 'by accident'."
Moonie gives up his argument, seeing the hopelessness of the situation. Silently, they prepare their spacecraft for departure, which takes a matter of seconds. Moonie looks sadly at his favourite planet. "I had such high hopes for you." he whispers softly.
The creators depart, never to return.
****
Edit::I don't mean anything negative by it, but I couldn't help myself and hope it's taken in good light as it's meant to be :)
Written in my phone, excuse any errors (though feel free to ironically point them out!) and the formatting. | 2019-06-10T06:36:56 | 2019-06-10T06:09:06 | 66 | 10 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | "Fuck it. Fuck it all."
The man turned around, his eyes set.
"Summon Cthulu."
"Yes sir."
As the assistant hurried away, the General refocused his eyes on the screen at the front of the room. All the leaders of the world were seated with him. All of them knew how crazy it was to summon Cthulu. But they all also knew that he was their only chance.
So they sat and waited.
*****
"Cthulu?"
The voice sounded distant, muffled, like he was under an ocean of water. He opened his eyes from meditation and looked round. The mouth on his desk seemed to be the source of noise. He went over and pressed a button. The mouth started to move.
"Cthulu? You there? Finally." There was a sigh of relief, before the mouth started to move again. "There's been a situation. We, we need your help."
He almost smiled. These humans, after hating him, cursing him, and making a mockery of his name, for thousands of years, were now turning to *him* for help in their most desperate hour. *The cheek.* Nonetheless, he would answer their call. Humans had always fascinated him. Besides, he felt good about today.
"Tell the Council I'll be there."
*****
As expected, the members of the Council were nervous. Leaders of the world as they were, not many of them had never seen Cthulu. In a way, besides Cthulu, no one had actually seen what Cthulu really looks like. It is said that his true form is so terrible that even its sight is enough to decimate whoever lays eyes upon Cthulu.
"Explain."
And so the General did, all the while mopping his copiously sweating face with a hankerchief. When he finished, he practically collapsed into a chair. It was clear that he was nervous, nontheless he gave a detailed and accurate rundown of the events that led up to now, all in record time and somehow managing to prevent his voice from cracking.
"So, put simply, you want me to destroy some aliens. Correct?"
The General nodded, barely able to meet his gaze.
"Very well. I'll be back in, let's say, half an hour?"
*****
In fact, it only took Cthulu 5 minutes.
As it turns out, the humans reports were somewhat exaggerated. The aliens were no match and he even managed to treat himself to coffee while obliterating the ensuing enemies. He returned to the Council, still sipping his warm coffee.
"So you defeated them?"
"Obviously. Why else would I be here?"
"Thank you, we are-"
"There is one more thing."
Instantaneously, the entire room had his attention. Everyone eyed him ominously.
"Ever watched the Dark Knight? There's this character, called the Joker. And there's this one scene, kind of like this one, but it was more like a hood version of this. Anyway. "If you're good at something, never do it for free." So my price is... let's just say that you're gonna have a bad time.'
And then the screams began.
He knew it was going to be a good day. | "General, Cthulhu doesn't exist as far as we know. The aliens have already taken out most of the Justice League and the Teen Titans-" Mr. Terrific spoke into his comm suite, from orbit within the Justice League Tower, "- and we're still waiting on Diana and Arthur to get UN approval and summon their armies from Themyscira and Atlantis."
General Wade Eiling, short tempered and irate, "Terrific, you know I don't like you or your super-powered cronies up in your high tower but these aliens are a threat to all of us - including us normal non-freak humans down here. There are plans down here even you don't know about, and we would have invaded that bath-tub empire of his a *long* time ago had we not discovered King Arthur's doomsday plan."
"Doomsday plan? In Atlantis? General, you need to start making sense.." Mr. Terrific's fingers already rapidly twitching around his keyboard while dozens of screens before him start flashing images of various searches on various websites and government databases, all looking for information on Atlantean doomsday devices.
"Nobody talks about Aquaman being strong enough and durable enough to put Superman down," General Eiling's voice becoming softer, almost as if he were relishing the very thought of that Super-alien getting his ass kicked in "And we definitely don't talk about his command over every undersea creature on the planet.."
"General?"
"Where the fuck do you think Cthulhu sleeps? Get Aquaman on comms, tell that salty fish-stick to start the R'lyeh Initiative and he better impress me with what the real King of Atlantis can do." | 2017-09-26T11:33:18 | 2017-09-26T11:17:26 | 78 | 50 |
[WP] The exorcist prayed and prayed, begging the demon to leave the childs body and return to the depths of hell. But he knew something was wrong when a distorted voice shouted out "He won't let me leave!" | “Can you - “ the boy’s voice cracked as it left his mouth, the words as broken and distorted as the expression on his face. Somewhere a grandfather clock struck the hour. The boy cleared his throat in a gesture that seemed both unnatural and precocious on the young angelic looking child. “- like fucking chill for a moment.”
The priest in his immaculate black robes took a step back, as if stung by the words, his eyes widening as he stared into the troubled expression on the young boy’s face. The divide between the softness of the boy’s features and the harshness of the words sent chills across his mind, down his spine.
“For real, man. We’re both in a shit situation here so I’d appreciate some fucking breathing space,” the boy continued, tilting his head as he tried to make eye contact with the priest.
“Quiet demon!” the priest raised his hand, a small bottle of holy water in it poised to strike.
“Seriously, you’re testing me old man!” The boy shied away from the priest with a snarl, preemptively dodging the water that never left it’s bottle. “I’m trying my best to get out of this little snot machine, but the little fucker won’t let me.” He said between clenched teeth and the big gap where the boy’s two missing front teeth would have been.
Suddenly looking a bit uncertain of himself the young priest lowered his hand cautiously.
“Thank you,” the boy breathed a sigh of relief. “So lets pause with the holy water and lets just chat this through.”
“What kind of trick are you playing?” the priest narrowed his eyes suspiciously, preparing to raise his hand again if the demon tried to lure him away from the path of righteousness again.
“Not a trick.” the voice paused. “And if someone hadn’t tied this little asshole’s arms behind his back I would have raised them in a very placating gesture to show my sincerity and good will.”
“Good will?” the priest scoffed.
“It’s an expression,” the demon sighed through the boy’s chapped lips. “Can we maybe work together and find a way to let this clingy little bastard let go of me so I can leave the snot and the incessant and asinine questions?!” The boy looked over at the priest with eyes mirroring eons of pain and days of agony. “He doesn’t fucking shut up!” he groaned. “He’s like fucking devouring my soul!”
The priest hummed, the side of his mouth curling into a confused expression as he scratched the back of his neck with the bottle of holy water. “So...how do we – do this?” | Rarely had the exorcist seen a case like this. They had seen violent demons, but this one was throwing the body around like a ragdoll. Surprisingly, the boy wasn't hurt at all. Probably the work of the demon inside.
Taking out a book of ways to get rid of a demon that all exorcists carried, the exorcist read a passage from it. Nothing happened. They read again. Nothing happened. About halfway through the book, the demon spoke.
"He won't let me out! Help!"
That was shocking. It was possible to keep a demon from leaving you, but rarely done. It was incredibly difficult to do so, and it was also a stupid thing to do, as the demon could likely gain partial or full control. If the demon didn't, or couldn't leave, the only way to get rid of it was killing the person the demon resided in, and there was no way that could happen.
The exorcist was stumped. They had no idea what to do, especially since murder was inconveniently illegal. They read more passages from their book, all made to get rid of demons. They didn't work. The child and the demon were stuck together. | 2021-12-28T10:24:30 | 2021-12-28T08:39:07 | 75 | 36 |
[WP] The rebels have taken the throne room, and just as their leader approaches the throne, the defeated king smiles and invokes an ancient law: any dispute over the throne shall be determined by Vox Populi - a simple majority democratic election for every adult in the kingdom. | A massive wooden door lying in pieces on the floor, courtiers huddling fearfully on the side of the room, a band of armed rebels standing before the throne, weapons held aloft at the king who sat upon his throne. The scene had all the typical trappings of the violent end of one reign and the beginning of another, if but for the look of utter bewilderment on the apparent victor's face.
"An election?" The rebel leader said with confusion, lowering his weapon in surprise. "After everything that has happened... you want to have a *vote* for who is to be king\*?\*"
"As per the ancient custom." The king responded serenely, a genial expression upon his face as he calmly regarded the rebels.
The rebel leader raised his weapon menacingly at the king. "Do you think I'm a fool? You invoking this custom is just some ploy to stall for time - I won't fall for it!"
The king again smiled, spreading his arms wide to either side of him. "Stall for what? If I had any further cards to play here, I'd have done so before you so rudely barged in. I only want you to demonstrate that you respect our customs and command the hearts of the people. Surely you would have no reason to object to that, given you came here declaring that it was by 'the will of the people' that I be removed as king... unless you think you *don't* command their support?"
The other man man's eyes narrowed suspiciously, scrutinizing the smile that still adorned the king's face. "Very well!" He eventually said with aplomb, lowering his weapon once again. "I know that the common people stand behind me in opposition to your misrule, so I'll best you in the ballot box as readily as I did on the battlefield."
The appointed day of the election came swiftly, for the rebel leader was confident of victory and eager to bring an end to the war.
"The king is a tyrant and weak ruler, whose reign has brought about unchecked disorder and chaos!" The rebel leader cried out to the crowd that had assembled in the capital in anticipation of the election, pointing to the king, who still had a smile affixed firmly to his face. "The mere fact that I was able to seize the capital is demonstrative of his poor rule. Show that you have had enough of this tyrant king!"
"It is true that parts of my rule haven't been ideal." The king intoned calmly in response as he got up, his characteristic smile remaining on his face in spite of everything that had come to pass, "but at least I was consistent in my approach to things!"
The king gestured to the confused rebel leader. "Here stands a man that launched a violent rebellion, resulting in untold death and destruction... only to then decide to resolve the matter by a peaceful vote right at the *end* of his war! What on earth stopped him from doing this at the beginning?"
The smile on the king's face grew slightly wider, "More importantly, is that the kind of man you want king? You, who have suffered and been impacted so much by this needless war, because of him?"
"Ridiculous!" The rebel leader cried out in response to the king's words. "Do you seriously think you'll erase all the harm you've inflicted in your reign by engaging in empty rhetorical flourishes?"
But to the rebel leader's shock, he came to lose the election, and thus ended up before king in a complete reversal of their first meeting, for now he was defeated party and the king stood triumphant. Most maddeningly of all to the rebel was the damn smile that the king still had on his face.
"It makes no sense!" The rebel leader cried out as he forced to kneel before the king, "I know the majority of the common folk supported me, for that was how I able to win the war to begin with!"
The king raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps - but then again, you were in such a rush to prove it that the election took place before a lot of them in the countryside likely even knew about the voting. Meanwhile, those in the capital - those most affected by *your* war *-* were the first to hear, and thus ready to offer up their voices in support of me."
The smile was still upon king's face as he pointed his sword towards the defeated rebel, yet that smile was now far crueler and viscous than before.
"Now it's time for them to be heard." | A thundering crash of splintering wood and bursting metal hinges. The rebels broke down the throne room’s door. The makeshift barrier of random bits and pieces hadn’t held long, powerless against a simple battering ram, dashing the kingsguard’s last remnants of hope for a last minute miracle to arrive. Anything to thwart these usurpers, but nothing came. They drew their weapons for a foolish last stand, knowing they were hopelessly outnumbered if the rebels had managed to come this far. At least they would die protecting king and country.
They fell back to form a protective barrier in front of the throne, where the king gripped its arms tightly, his knuckles white as snow. Several heavily armed rebels walked through the destroyed door, over the rubble. Their purposeful steps blew up dust, cut through by the blood dripping from their armaments. Ten of them stood in the middle of the room, hauntingly at ease in the knowledge that they had won, that the war was over even if one last battle yet remained.
Only the heavy breathing of the armed men and women from both sides was audible, one from exhaustion, the other out of fear. Then, more steps. The rebels stepped aside to allow their leader to come through. The Crimson Usurper, as he was known among the monarchists; Ghaston Barnes, as his rebel companions called him. Now he stood before the last remains of the kingsguard, everyone else either dead or surrendered.
He folded his arms behind his back. “Step down. Too many brothers and sisters have killed each other. It’s over.”
Desperate gazes from one guard to the other, hoping one would break their holy vow to cause a chain reaction of desertion. None acted, whether out of courage or cowardice.
“Lay down your arms,” the king suddenly said. He tried his best to speak with authority and strength, but the few words alone betrayed him. His shaking voice broke the guards as no rebellion ever could. Throwing their swords to the ground, they stepped aside as close to the wall as they could. They weren’t part of this spectacle any longer.
Ghaston Barnes approached the king. “You should follow them,” he said, nodding towards the former kingsguard.
A slight smile formed on the king’s face in desperate hope. “I, King Telerus the Fourth, hereby invoke vox populi.” He stressed every single word, the last two spoken with such revulsion they felt like poison. ”One man, one vote. Let the people decide. Isn’t that what you want, Usurper?” In the face of death, the old monarch still loathed the only possibility of his survival with all his being. The very idea of what he proposed disgusted him to the point he couldn’t help himself but ridicule it.
Now standing in front of the throne, Ghaston Barnes drew a dagger and slit the king’s throat in one swift motion. Blood sprayed on his armour, new drops of red among many, now indistinguishable from the rest. “It is,” he said as the king’s pained gurgles filled the throne room. “Vox populi.” | 2021-02-09T05:31:10 | 2021-02-09T04:46:24 | 35 | 14 |
[WP] You are a genie, and after thousands of years of existence, you have grown extremely bored. To combat this boredom, you give all 7 billion people on Earth three wishes - all at once. You don’t tell any of the humans that they have any wishes at all. | It’s been 569 years since someone summoned me for a wish. I never thought I would wait this long to be summoned, they look up to the sky and make a wish thinking a comet will grant their dreams. How silly are they...
There was a slight hesitation when I granted three wishes to every human being in this world, about how this would affect the whole balance but there is no balance left thanks to them anyway.
''I wish I was older.''
Here we go, my first wish. She is 15 years old and she seems pretty upset that she can’t go to the nightclub. It’s time to grant her wish. She is born on 23rd September, let’s make this 22nd September. Congratulations human, now you are one day older.
''I wish Lucas was here.''
This one is interesting. He is 24 years old and he is living alone at his apartment. He had a break up with his girlfriend last week and they were together for almost 2 years. Lucas is his best friend and they know each other since the pre-school. I instantly teleport Lucas right next to him and the funny thing is Lucas is completely naked. Well, I guess he was busy with his best friend's ex-girlfriend.
''I wish I was sick.''
This one has a lot of potential. He is watching a football match and he needs to get up early tomorrow for work. Your wish has been granted, enjoy your COVID-19.
''I wish this plane crashes into the ocean.''
Clearly, this guy having a bad day and I’m about to make his day better by granting his wish. He is in a commercial flight with 160 people. He is a gambling addict and he lost fifty thousand dollars when he was gambling in a casino. Now, he doesn’t want to face his wife who is awaiting him at home. Too bad he is never coming home and all the other people on the plane.
''I wish I was a genie.''
Hold up. What is this? 20 years old girl who is about to jump off from the cliff. I can’t grant her wish if she dies which makes her wish ungranted and my powers would vanish for 1000 years. I can’t let this happen but same time I can’t make her genie, this is not how it works. I look for another wish that can save her.
''I wish I was a giant eagle.''
Here we go. You are a giant eagle now, sir. Now, save her and save me from 1000 years of boredom.
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-Thank you for reading the story-
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | When I wake up I feel a little stiff due to a cold I'm recovering from. I really wish that weren't the case, but by the time I get to the kitchen my limbs have loosened up a little. No big deal. As I start some coffee I wish forlornly that I hadn't eaten the last yogurt the previous night. My stomach grumbles as if in agreement, and I root around the fridge for sustenance. Found a yogurt I didn't know I had and dig the fuck in. I'm always ravenously hungry right after I wake up, which leads to some self-control issues. If only the calories from breakfast didn't count, I'd be in pretty good shape but as it is I'm a little flabby -- in my mind it ain't breakfast if it don't got carbs. Toss the empty container in the sink and go down the hall to shower Definitely feel better than I did when I woke up. The hot shower will probably make it even better. I usually avoid looking at myself naked, but now turn and strike a dramaticpose in the mirror. Lookin' good, I'm exceedingly pleased to note. I guess one benefit of the cold was that I lost a little weight because I was constantly nauseous. Cool. | 2020-03-14T08:43:26 | 2020-03-14T07:21:48 | 319 | 70 |
[WP] When you're in danger, time slows down. The more danger you're in, the more time slows down. You wake up and nothing is moving but you. | I knew it. Long before it happened. I made up theories. What will happen, how will it go down, what will I experience. Welp, that's it. The World is my playground. Fuck me.
My name is Rupert Thompson and I have a very weird ability. Time stops when I'm in danger. Sounds cool, doesn't it? It was cool. Really cool. Oh, all the things I've done. Robbing banks with an explosive charge strapped to my chest, going into places I should've never gone into. I've read the info on the aliens in the FBI archives, you know. All the fights where my opponents were baffled by my lightning reflexes. That was a fun time.
But now. Now I've been beaten by my own body. Cancer is a bitch, they say. They don't even know how right they are.
"Rupert, I'm afraid you have about a month left. Terminal lung cancer, nothing we can do." That's what the doctor told me. He was right in his own way. A week ago, normal-timewise, my time slowed. It was really hard to even talk to people at that point, as they talked too slow and I talked too fast. Doctors said that speech impediments might happen due to my illness. Yeah, sure, make another guess. Last two days lasted forever. To other people I probably was a flash of light instead of a normal human being. They dispatched a task force to take me down when some random dude saw me in the shop and I just walked past them not paying any attention.
Then I started guessing. First I hoped I'd die like any normal person. Then, as time slowed its pace I started thinking that maybe I can heal myself by actually living. My body keeps on, right? I can move, I breathe, I can even move other things that I touch. Maybe cancer won't survive when time gets that slow? Yeah, sure, make another guess. I figured that the time will probably stop completely. What next? I figured out a single way to die after that. Stepping down from a roof would be nice. I would basically crash myself under my own weight, so it would be all me, right? I hope I'd actually die after that.
The only way I can count time is by how much times I eat. For every three times I'll put a tick there, considering it to be a day. When someone finds this piece of paper, maybe give my body to science or something? I don't know. I want to be helpful. I've had a good life.
I think I'm the first person to stutter on a sheet of paper. Should probably think about what I'm writing before writing it. To be fair, I'm done. Don't know what to write here. Tell my kids I loved them. They do know it, but still. I hope I can finish it somehow.
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I have stepped on a roof 362 times. I don't think I can do it. Weird, right? Trapped by my own body. What's the point in having all of the world to myself if I can do nothing. Travelling's fine. Takes a lot of time, though. Made it from New York to Texas and then to California. Fun road trip. Seen some people in the cars. Two car crashes in action. Several birds being squashed by windshields. Fascinating. Started talking to myself. A lot. Hearing voices. A lot as well. Getting quite weird. Gonna make it back to NY and try to finish myself after all.
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------- Note, found in an inner pocket of a corpse that has appeared out of nowhere on one of the New York's streets. Currently hidden behind closed doors in Area 51. | I don't know how you would classify some decisions in life. Was it bad if it brought you so much happiness, contentment at least? How could I have known the future? How could I expect things to change? I am middle-aged, a little grey, and the regret kills me. I guess it was a bad decision.
The morning stills to a photo. Beside me she sleeps and I love her. The years had taken our looks, dulled the minds, but never touched the passion. I love her. I touch her. She is still asleep. I think of all the memories we've had. I think of all our dreams. The world is still, too nice to be a photo, a painting maybe.
I don't want to get up. I turn a little. I look at her from all sides. Our bedroom is dark, full of morning shadows battling the just risen sun. It is the last sun I will be alive for.
The scent of everything kind of merges as it does when time gets like this. It is a pleasant smell. At first I am contented. Then I grow sad and I cry. I whisper to her, to calm myself, and it makes me feel worse. I have known her forever. She will only know me for part of forever. I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for both of us.
There is no danger of course. Just bad decisions. Our room is peaceful. The day is bright. It is a wonderful day if not for what would soon happen. I feel guilty and blame myself. I am old now and who would have thought I would have something to live for? Who could imagine that taking a pull here and there would add up at the worst possible time? I have no one to blame but myself.
A few days ago the diagnosis had come. Cancer works fast. Even the frozen time cannot hold it. There is nothing to do really. I whisper more things until my voice cannot compose itself for words. I cry over her. Will those tears remain? Will they be the last remnants of me on her when I fade away? I kiss her, hoping it will last forever. I wish I could wake her and we could spend this eternal moment together, but it is mines and mines alone. And I feel alone.
I cannot tell you how long it lasts. There is hardly any danger. Only repercussions. The magic catches on and time moves again, slowly at first. Then it moves normally. A sharp pain takes me and it feels like the air is being taken out from within. My lungs are gone, and only their wheezy ghosts remain.
I think about waking her, but she doesn't need to see this. As much as I want her here, really here, I should save her the pain. She shouldn't suffer anymore for my bad decisions. I squeeze her hand softly and she stirs. The world fades as it awakens for her. | 2017-01-26T09:40:53 | 2017-01-26T07:58:37 | 43 | 14 |
[WP] At the age of 18 you are permitted to redistribute your twenty skill points around into whatever skills you want permanently. You decided to put everything into LUCK and leave the rest at 0 points. | I quietly entered the hospital room. There, attached to a series of tubes and machines, was my brother. One machine fed him a steady IV drip, another pumped his lungs full of air and then emptied the mat again, a third just steadily blipped in time to his heartbeat. An indistinct antiseptic smell tugged at the nostrils.
I have no words for how strongly my brother's stroke had changed my life. There's a certain something that can be felt everywhere but can't quite be placed. It's the empty spot at the table, the missing face in group photos, the Christmas letter that will never come. Of course, what was so much worse was realizing that he had done it to himself.
In retrospect it seems obvious to me now. Out of Dad, Mom, and I, none of us took luck as one of our primary stats. And yet, all of a sudden, we were subject to the weirdest coincidences. Dad lost his job but found a new one that paid more almost immediately. While studying stars for my graduate thesis, I happened to witness a supernova in incredible clarity. And this one time mom managed to get hit by a car going 70 mph and only needed 3 staples and a pain pill. Admittedly, in that last example it would have been better if she had never been hit by the car, but the fact she was up and walking not even an hour after being run over surprised us all. And all of those events are just some of the more mundane coincidences that have followed us after my brother's 18th birthday.
But, I mean, it could be our own luck. Luck is just that way sometimes. There's no litmus test that would be able to distinguish between my luck and my brother’s luck. But, as long as these things keep happening, I’m not happy with this situation but I am… okay. It helps me to think of it as my brother watching over us and keeping us safe like a guardian angel. It doesn't make what he did to himself feel like any less of a betrayal, but this way I can say he's still with us even if all I see of him is a body strapped to a hospital bed. | Pajser woke up on his 20th birthday pretty hungover. Strong light almost totally prevented his eyes from opening. It was unusual light, the one you usually see in games when one important revelation comes up.
"You have 20 skill points to spend, choose wisely," Siri said.
Pajser took his phone and put all on luck because he was too irritated and grumpy because of last night's drinks. Suddenly, he felt the urge to sleep again. He laid down and fell asleep. He died.
"You lucky dumbass", Siri said,"you put no points in your immune system, you're lucky you died in your sleep."
The phone turned off.
THE END. | 2016-03-20T19:29:26 | 2016-03-20T18:09:26 | 158 | 21 |
[WP] Suddenly, everyone on Earth becomes immortal, free from physical injury or disease. Except for one person. | People really went "sky-diving" now. 10,000 feet. No parachute. It was fun the first few times. Then it started to get boring. Sure, the view is nice, but the thrill was gone. Where's the fun in jumping out of a perfectly good airplane if you can't die? I kept doing it just because he wanted to. He still got a kick out of it. I think on some level he knew it wasn't as fun for me anymore, but he would ask every weekend and I would oblige. How could I refuse? After all, he only had so long to live. He started to get into other extreme sports too. The equipment was cheap because everyone had lost interest. Base jumping, those winged squirrel suits, wind surfing, all that crap. He enjoyed it and I didn't mind, I loved spending time with him even if the activities had lost their appeal. I never worried until he broke an arm while bunging jumping. It wasn't an equipment issue--we'd had plenty of practice setting up the cord at that point. He was just _old_. And frail. I told him maybe 55 wasn't a good age to be leaping from national monuments. He reluctantly agreed and I thought that was the end of it. I was buying two classical guitars for us to learn on together when I got the call. Dead. Biking in the grand canyon. They told me there was still a smile on his face. I tried to bury my grief in mastering Asturias in G minor, but it didn't do any good. I even went skydiving a few times, but that only made it worse because I realized the fact that it won't hurt when I hit the ground didn't freak me out anymore. Surely there was a limit to my immortality. The next week, I asked the pilot to go higher. He went up an extra ten thousand feet and then told me his bird didn't go any higher. I knew it wasn't enough, but I jumped anyway because it was the fastest way down. I even made sure I landed headfirst. Nothing. I cried that night. Ironic that the only man in the human race who could die was the only one who could live.
EDIT: Tense agreement. | It's been about 50 years now but you wouldn't know it from looking at people, except for John that is.
Back then we were just 15 and didn't really care about what people were saying on the TV, we were equals back then...but time has changed that, he aged as the world & I did not.
So here we sit he with greyed hair & the beginnings of wrinkles in his face, every scar & the missing finger too.
I on the other hand still 15...I mean my balls still haven't dropped yet even at age 65.
All thing considered I have never really felt old until today...today I am the last to lose a friend...
Edit: typed at 1am so spelling, etc... | 2013-12-10T09:43:51 | 2013-12-10T08:45:33 | 84 | 11 |
[WP] 3 weeks ago, the government issued a warning to stay inside for a week due to an “international threat”. You don’t own a house, and we’re forced to stay outside. It’s been 3 weeks. No one has come out yet. | You ever seen I Am Legend? Yeah well, the start of that movie where he's walking around an abandoned city all alone, that's what my life is like. Except they didn't really capture how mind-numbingly boring it is. I thought I was an introvert but right now I'd give anything to have a conversation with another human being. Hell even seeing one would be nice.
The movie does nail the fear though. In it it's caused by like screaming and monsters out of sight and stuff and there's nothing like that but... Have you ever been in a school or a hospital or somewhere usually super busy at night? The once-familiar, loud hallways become deathly quiet, unnatural and disturbing? That's the whole of London for me. Has been for two months.
I was down on my luck see, and had found a nice area in a park to sort of hide out. I'd stolen a bunch of stuff from a few local stores and legged it, and was planning to lay low for a few days and enjoy the summer weather.
What I didn't count on was the end of the world happening while I hid in a bush eating jerky and drinking cider.
Well the world didn't end as such. Just humans; I've seen plenty of wildlife around. But no people. And I have no idea why. I never thought it was such a big deal to be tapped into the mainstream consciousness, to media and keep updated with a world that didn't care whether I lived, died or even existed, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I missed the big event, the rapture, the end times. There are no cars on the roads, no half finished cups of coffee in the shop. It's like the world was a simulation and it was programmed to stop, just nobody told me.
What I do know is every single house is locked, securely. No doors open anywhere. Course that shouldn't stop me from breaking in but... It just sort of... Does? I just can't bring myself to and I don't really know why. I've looked through plenty of windows and there's never a soul about. Or a body. But I'm happy living off looting shops and businesses so I don't need to push the boundary of my ethical limits and break into someone's home.
As time goes on, I think it's less and less about ethics. I don't want to go into these people's homes. I don't know why I don't... I just don't. It feels wrong on an animalistic level.
Trouble with being the last human on earth, that I can make out at least, is that I'm still so damn curious. I mean whatever happened had to be linked to being at home didn't it? As much as I want to be independent and live alone anyway, I can't continue living this sham existence without at least knowing what happened.
That's decided then. I'm going to break into a house. Tonight.
Wish me luck. | Quick story and on mobile so sorry for haste and format.
---
It felt like years had passed since the sirens had blared and forced everyone else inside.
Some sort of 'international threat' or something. I didn't believe any of that crap. Not that I had much choice of what to do; I wasn't exactly staying outside in protest, it was more due to the fact that I was kinda homeless after a series of many, many bad finicial decisions on my part and a messy divorce leaving me penniless.
People stared from their windows, whispered in hushed voices to their children about the *man who stayed outside* , like I was some sort of alien, an intruder. Sure, if that makes them sleep happy in their solitude.
I was slightly concerned about the fact the higher ups of the country had been radio silent even after the supposed 'week of hiding' hadn't ended. Not that I cared what the people who ran the country thought. I was always told they were too elitist for me to ever understand, just a lowly, bottom class citizen.
In fact it *had* been about 3 weeks, it was easy to lose track of the date when you weren't counting. I think it put us on somewhere near mid July. 10th? 15th? 13th rang a bell in my head but I couldn't grasp why.
Then I saw it. Gliding over the city like a monstrous bird of prey. Ready to attack. Painted with the blue and white words 'AIR FORCE ONE'. He had arrived in the UK. The international threat.
| 2018-06-29T05:27:36 | 2018-06-29T04:13:07 | 59 | 35 |
[WP] One day you kill a fly. The next day a second fly approaches and leaves a photo and a note on the table in front of you. The photo is of a spider and the note reads “$500 for a confirmed kill. Make sure no one finds the body.” | I know exactly when the Great Fruit Fly Infestation began - it was those darn overripe bananas that Anna refused to throw away. And when I had finally decided to toss them, it was already far too late. We've got apple vinegar traps set up all throughout the house, now, but it's not enough. They're multiplying faster than we can kill them.
I won't lie, it's been an adjustment. I can't leave food out anymore - the flies get to it in the span of a few minutes. I once was grossed out by the thought of killing them with my bare hands, which is why we have several dozen of those little electric flyswatter things lying around the house. But over time, I just got used to it.
At least they don't like coffee. Sitting in my chair at my home office, I take a long drink of the hot liquid. Spotting a small fruit fly near the mug, I gingerly squashed it with my pinky finger.
I didn't think anything of it at the time. Just another fruit fly in the hundreds that I'd already killed. Just trying to take back my home, one fruit fly at a time.
But the very next day, everything changed.
\---
I stared blankly at the photo and the note. It's blurry, but I'm still impressed - what kind of bug knows how to work a DSLR? And surely, it must have defied the laws of physics in order to move such a large piece of paper proportional to its body.
Dipping its feet in the inkwell on my desk, the fly scratched out another note. "So, do we have a deal?"
I cleared my throat, feeling silly. "No, we do not have a deal," I replied. "First off, where are you getting this money? Secondly, if you're sentient, shouldn't you hate me? I've killed hundreds of your friends. Finally," I said, picking up the electric flyswatter, "can all of you *please* just get out of my house?"
The fly hurriedly jumped back a few feet.
"Killed the leader of the Drosophila Party," it quickly stamped out. "Leading political opponent. If I can exterminate our main predators, that will cement my victory with the popular vote."
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. Apparently, our resident fruit fly population had become advanced enough to hold elections. "Tell me, does every member of the populace vote? And where exactly are your polling stations?"
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites | when people ask what I do for a living I tell them I'm an exterminator because.. well i am. I take occasional "legitimate" work as a front but most of my business comes from what i can only describe as an insect underground.
It all started with the fly and the spider, I thought nothing of it at first but when i swatted a spider a few days later I found cash on the kitchen counter the next day. after that a steady trickle of jobs came in, it often took a couple of tries as most spiders look the same but its not like they specified collateral fees.
6 months on from that first contract I now run myself a nice little extermination business whether it is ants wanting a rival colony taken out or rats wanting a stray cat to get handed into a shelter I do the work they can't and get paid in... well occasionally its money, usually its more unusual stuff. currently gold is the favoured payment, much easier for them to dig about and find a flake of that than drag a dollar bill into my house. | 2021-11-05T12:58:00 | 2021-11-05T10:09:03 | 799 | 279 |
[WP] All voting is now done via a smartphone app, rendering all congressmen obsolete. Bills and presidents are now voted on directly by citizens. Your phone buzzes an alert at 3am and won't stop. This must be an important one. | Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv, (slide, slide, slither) CLACK, CLACKITY THUMP!
"God damn that cat!" I huffed as I threw my pillow at his rapidly retreating backside. I had put my phone on vibrate for a reason. Unfortunately, as far as my irredeemably nocturnal companion was concerned, a thingee that sat on the the nightstand buzzing was probably a big insect and therefore really cool to play with.
I sat up in bed, then carefully got down on my hands and knees, not bothering to look for my glasses. Instead, I padded around carefully with my hand until I located the phone halfway hidden under the bed and pulled it out, bringing it close enough to my short sighted eyes that I could examine it for damage. Seemed OK.
I was groggy enough that it was only when I was about to put it back that it dawned on me to wonder why it was buzzing at three in the morning. I had it in *Do Not Disturb* mode and it wasn't supposed to try chattering at me until I had my coffee tomorrow morning. I thumbed to unlock the screen to check what ungodly thing caused it to override my preference settings. I was interrupted by a glaring red notification:
YOU HAVE NOT VOTED ON 1,245 OUTSTANDING PROPOSAL(S).
Just a reminder! If you do not vote within the next 02 hour(s) and 43 minute(s), this access point will be assumed abandoned and locked out for security reasons.
Aw crap. Just what I needed. If I didn't clear twelve hundred votes in just under three hours, they would shut off my internet. Yeah, sure I could get it back, but I'd have to go into the registration office and show ID like some 18 year old kid getting his first adult phone. This I do not need.
Well hell. I was awake now anyway. Might as well get down to it. I padded to the kitchen and waved in the general direction of my coffee maker to signal it to start brewing ahead of schedule, then I sat down at the kitchen table to get busy while it worked.
Raise taxes to pay for increase in city park maintenance crews? What was wrong with the old maintenance crews? I tried to remember if I'd heard something about a crisis in the city parks, but I gave up and tapped "no" -- my default answer when the question started with "raise taxes".
I likewise got rid of three other proposals this way before I had the brainstorm to use my phone's text search feature to filter to just proposals containing the words "raise taxes" and saved a ton of time just repeatedly tapping the "no" button without reading them. Did people really do otherwise? I'm sure they *pretended* to in order to seem more civic minded, but unless it's your own personal pet cause who actually *asks* for more taxes? Five hundred and seventy six proposals lighter, I was in a slightly better mood by the time the coffee was ready.
There were similar patterns regarding the granting of clemency for various low level criminals who were set to potentially benefit by a various plans to reduce overcrowding in prisons. I spend a lot of time browsing various social justice subreddits, and I read stories all the time how many people are jailed unjustly or are over punished because of get-tough-on-crime legislation that has long since fallen out of fashion. Besides, prisons cost tax money. I voted yes on all of these.
There were twenty three proposals which are simply confirmations of the president's picks on judges ranging from the federal appeals courts to the Supreme Court. I don't know a thing about any of these people, but I voted for this president, so I took her word for it and just said "yes" to these.
Several dozen proposals are environmental appeals designed to do everything from cut carbon emissions to saving four endangered species. I don't know a lot about these issues, but who doesn't love the environment? Monsters. That's who. I voted yes to all of them.
I was in the home stretch now, and I was feeling good. About a hundred of these things are for local issues instead of federal or state, and I felt much more confident here, because I heard my neighbors talking every day and therefore I knew exactly how to think about these things. I breezed through them tapping the answers I knew quite well any right thinking person would agree with on these proposals.
And then at last, as the first rays of morning sunlight came through my window and illuminated my kitchen table, here it was! The last proposal! Oh thank you God! Almost there. And apparently this was the one that was so damned important that they had to wake me at 3AM. Hmm... let's see.
*The Andersen proposal to reduce the volume of public voting by 98%. Yes or No?*
Huh. Andersen proposal? I hadn't heard of that one. You would think it would have been in the news if it was important enough to get people to vote on it in the wee hours of the morning. Maybe I should get on the internet and research it first?
I glanced at the countdown timer, though, and realized my internet connection will be suspended in another 7 minutes if I didn't clear this last proposal. And knowing my luck, if I took too long researching it, some idiot will probably propose four more things while I'm doing it.
Ahhhh, screw it. I *did* think there's too much public voting. A 98% reduction sounded good to me. I tapped "yes" and watched with satisfaction as the countdown timer disappeared, and in it's place, a popup dialog thanked me for voting in bold blue text beside an icon of a happy flag waving cartoon citizen.
I sighed, put the phone down, then went to make my breakfast. Once I had finished eating and was washing up the dishes, I looked out the small window over the sink and saw the military jeeps rolling through the neighborhood. I wondered what that was all about.
I found out later that day while watching a news video telling how General Leroy Andersen had successfully gotten the approval of the voting public early this morning on his proposal for martial law. The president had been arrested at the White House earlier, and General Andersen was asking all law abiding citizens to continue to monitor their phones for alerts on new regulations and restrictions as they became available.
| I jumped out of bed. They talked about this in school. Middle school, all the way through to Senior Year. "If an emergency vote is required during the night and lives are at stake, you will hear this alarm" *Alarm sound*
It was the sound
*Alarm Sounds off in the background again
"Every 30 seconds it will go off for 10 seconds. It's not February or July, this is not a test…"
As I ran for my phone, which was across the room on the wireless charging pad, I remembered all of the exercises we went through during "Citizenship Prep Week" in school. Each step brought more fear and paranoia to my thoughts.
This wasn't something to take lightly. I was trying to mentally prepare as I was stepping on my clothes, and tripped over a shoe. I hit my head pretty hard. "…I WOULD do this… FUCK"
*Alarm sounds off in the background again
"I GET IT!"
I stood up carefully, regaining my bounds. It hurt pretty bad, but it was probably not too serious. Somebody was dead that was important, something was going on. This isn't CNN calling, this is a legally required vote. I stepped the final steps to my phone. I used the fingerprint scanner to unlock it, as this was the only way to unlock a phone in the "Vote mode," as it was commonly called.
==============
"The President of the United States is dead. We have your government detained. Vote for compliance or vote for war. This message is being sent per minimum required notification in the Geneva Convention. Your military is alerted. You, citizens, are alerted.
In 12 hours an all-out military strike will occur on the East Coast and the West Coast. Estimated casualties sit at 20 million with no preventative evacuations in non-marked areas of the coast. MARKED AREAS WILL INCURR 100% LIFE LOSS. You have 2 hours to vote. Below is a map of the affected areas. This message is sent in accordance to the "Life Preservation Accord" of the Geneva Convention which was ratified in 2042. A voter turnout of 60% is required to continue actions already described in this Vote memo. A surrender vote will cease all military action and the Chinese government, with assistance from Russia, will begin re-establishing your government and seizing control of authorities nationwide.
Below are definitions.
Voter Turnout: Voter turnout is defined as a voter receiving the Vote Memo and acknowledging via fingerprint scan.
All-out military strike: Land, sea, air and missile forces with potential for Nuclear attacks that are limited in radius.
==============
I glanced at the map. Los Angeles was in a marked area. I looked for New York . It was not.
2 hours to decide. 12 hours u…11 hours and 52 minutes until we are attacked formally.
I turned on the news. It wasn't a drill. No prank.
I started crying. This must be what it was like in 2001.
I looked at the voting options.
==============
A) Surrender
B) Defend
C) No Vote
==============
"HA! They didn't define "No Vote" maybe this is inv…"
To myself I thought maybe it would be invalidated due to an error in writing the memo.
Heh.
I cried harder at the thought that this was happening. There's no way out of this.
Where is the military? This is so surreal. I tried to call my mom. It failed. The only networks that were able to send or receive data were the ad-hoc networks used to validate integrity of the votes and ensure prompt delivery to the centralized point.
I used to think of this system as the most awe-inspiring p2p system ever. Now this system is being used to determine whether or not millions will die.
Like any good star of a story, I had some rifle training. I had a rifle I spent years saving up for. It was mostly useless as a home-defense tool, but I enjoyed shooting it. An antique Barrett M107A1. I had 500 rounds in my closet.
I'm not a soldier. Do I tell them I can shoot this when the time comes? Do I defend our nation, or do I surrender to allow all of those people to live?
My mind was racing. All of this thought happening. I hadn't voted yet.
Blood was slowly running down the side of my head. I felt it tickle a hair on my neck. I then heard screaming in my neighborhood. People realizing what was happening, running out of their homes to see other people. To ask for help in a decision none of us should ever have to make.
I voted.
I ran out. The fact that I had voted would be made apparent due to the fact that my phone was no longer chiming at me every 2 minutes. "Don’t say how you voted"
I saw Daurren and his wife, Olivia and tried screaming his name "Dawlle…. DAWlll….. DAMNIT DUDE I CANT ROLL MY TONGUE RIGHT NOW. What the hell is going on?" | 2015-10-07T09:09:54 | 2015-10-07T09:08:23 | 45 | 15 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | 28, 34, 21, and 54.
I remained where I stood, nodding to the guests in silent affirmation that they were allowed in. As they trudged past me and through the door of Barney's Strip Club, I reached into my pocket, fumbled for a cigarette, and stuck it in my mouth. Now where was my lighter? It would be so much easier if I could just-
20, 17.
Ugh. I groaned inwardly. 17? That was definitely not a number that should be here. Time to perform my job, I suppose. "Hey, you two. Hold it."
I shifted myself into the doorway, blocking the two young men from entering. Behind his expensive looking sunglasses, I could see the younger one already beginning to sweat. Was he really unable to wait for just one year longer? Honestly, kids these days... I sighed inwardly, but continued standard procedure.
"Excuse me, but can I see your ID?"
At the first mention of an ID, they both began to fidget. The younger one kept glancing over at the older... his brother, maybe? Eventually, the older one took charge, handing over two pieces of plastic with an artificial smile plastered on his face. I ignored the small talk he tried to make and pretended to study the cards intensely, while in reality I was rolling my eyes behind designer sunglasses. I didn't know the first rule about being a bouncer, let alone how to identify fake IDs from real ones. All the club wanted was for me to do was two things- keep out the riff raff out, and be good about it. Which suited me just fine.
"Nice try, kid, but you're going to have to try somewhere else." I couldn't be bothered to mess with these two any longer, as my cigarette was getting soggy. I handed back the IDs and glared them off. Any possible protests they contemplated melted like snow upon seeing my iron-set muscles, and they beat a hasty retreat. In my profession, it helps to be a mountain of a man like me.
And another thing that helped was this ability. The power to see numbers over peoples heads that showed their age- at first, I thought it was a stupid power, but eventually I came to see its use. After all, I turned out to make a pretty good bouncer, despite knowing nothing of the job. It came in handy for my other business as well.
Speak of the devil. I was just about to light my cigarette when something else caught my attention.
3,214.
A petite man who couldn't be over thirty, wearing an elegant tuxedo and tie that dripped of extra money, stood in front of me. He looked like your typical, unassuming gentleman, the type who wouldn't hurt a fly. And I might have been fooled by this disguise as well, if not for that 3,214 floating over his head. This wasn't work anymore. Now, it was business.
Once more, I sigh inwardly. Over 3,000? Then this might actually prove to be troublesome. As *they* get older, they get stronger as well. Feeling a pain welling up in my back from an old injury, I crack my neck around. Then I spit out my cigarette and lumber into the doorway once more, standing above this ancient wonder of a man.
Well, not that *it* is a man. The *thing* tilted its head in inquisition.
"Pardon me, but is something wro-"
I didn't give it a chance to finish its sentence. Pulling back my shoulder, I let loose a full powered punch straight into the face of the *thing*, a clean punch that would have demolished a building. And yet, even as the man goes flying, he's already fully regenerated by the time he hits the ground.
*It* immediately enters combat mode, transforming its arms into pairs of wickedly sharp blades, but I don't give it a chance to use them. Utilizing another power of mine, a more useful one, I ignite my fists into flame, and unleash a barrage of punches upon the creature until its been reduced to pulp. Only once its been melted into a puddle on a ground do I cease my attack.
"Ha... ha..." As I pant, I observe the creature for movement, but it appears to be completely and thoroughly dead. Just to make sure though, I light the remaining puddle on fire, and watch it evaporate into the air.
Sticking a new cigarette in my mouth, I light a fire beneath it with the snap of a finger. Then, leaning back against the wall, I crack my neck again, dispelling the misdirection barrier that I had erected around the area. Once more, customers begin to trickle in, and I continue my vigilant watch.
I work as a bouncer, but my real job is somewhat different. It just so happens that *they* like places like clubs, where life energy and youthfulness is abundant. But I'll be here. And I'll be watching. | 4 digits. For a moment, my degree in mathematics failed me, as I struggled to count the numbers before me. Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre. There was no mistake, though the existence of such a person...frightened me. My vision had always been right, as evidenced by the guilty looks on the minors' faces when I turned them out of the bar. I'd never had to kick someone out for being overage. But 5746 years was a lot of time, far before Anno Domini 1. Was he immortal? A god? Or some old guy with a superpower? I didn't know, and I definitely didn't trust the 'Age: 30' that his ID proclaimed. Maybe my powers had faltered this time. Maybe...
From behind, I saw another man slowly approach me, his IDs in his hands. But as he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened in fear. I saw him whisper into the 4-digit-old man, with visible shock on both faces. That was when I saw the age of the newcomer. 5746.
I tried my best to suppress my shock, though I failed miserably. 1 was surprising enough, but 2? 2 men that had lived for the exact same time from so long ago? I was about to demand an explanation, but one of them beat me to it.
"Why are you 5746 years old?" he questioned, fear in his eyes. I opened my own wide. Could he read ages too? And was I...that old? No. That couldn't be right. I remembered my childhood, the photographic proof of my birh just 28 years ago. But they didn't seem to be lying, and the mention of that 4-digit number again was chilling. What kind of sick joke was my powers pulling? Or were they the ones pulling my leg?
"We've found another suspect, boss," one said into a walkie-talkie. The other drew a gun from his pocket, training the muzzle on my forehead. "What are you doing? You're-" I tried to explain, but he cut me off. "No more words, time traveller. We've waited long enough to catch you and your gang," he replied, smirking as a group of policemen appeared from the darkness. I felt the cool metal slide around my wrists, as I was forced towards the car. "Move!" one of them shouted. That voice...I seemed to recall. The cold handcuffs. The interrogation. Disjointed images flashes before my eyes, as they slowly became clearer, culminating in...
I knew now. But...why were they doing this? Was it a plot to throw of the police? "James!" I shrieked, to the man I'd once been partners in crime with. He chuckled, though I could tell it wasn't just for effect. I saw the twinkle in his eyes, the signature twinkle he gave when he condemned a foe to death. My other pal Aldrich stood by, his eyes conveying his helplessness. James' face wasn't one of friendliness anymore. It was one of animosity and hatred.
"Good riddance," I saw him mouth, as I was shoved into the car. As we drove off, I could still see him, as he advanced slowly towards Aldrich. I closed my eyes in cowardice, though I knew what would happen. What I had feared when I agreed to sacrifice my memories...it had all occured. There was no way back.
Even inside the driving car, I could hear the terrified screams. The circle of betrayal had been completed. | 2017-09-01T23:18:34 | 2017-09-01T22:15:29 | 189 | 16 |
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases! | I tried everything but the doors won't open. The room is dimly lighted. The hazy shine of my laptop's screen provides for more brightness in the room than the bulb itself. I continue reading the comments on this thread. Not a single comment is related to the topic. One of them says ...
'Don't worry, we are there for you'
And some says 'I've brought your favourite cake'
And many more comments like this saying they are there for the OP. I hardly saw this much sympathy on Reddit. But none of them says how the fuck should I get out of this cage. Wait a minute, is there somebody else imprisoned like me?
It's been a while for me living in this house alone. I don't even remember how I got here. The last thing I remember before I came here is a hazy memory of a car ride. The room is getting dark. And I have stopped counting days. Roughly it would be more than a week, maybe. The windows of this house is dark. There is no way I can know what's happening outside.
I then again stuck my eyes on the screen. Now I was reading the usernames in the thread. OP's name was caterpillar. I remember how my mom used to call me a caterpillar when I was small. Then looking at the other usernames in comment section, I felt like I know these names. God knows what they are.
I don't remember when did I had a meal. I don't feel hungry. I don't feel my energy getting wasted even when I stroll for hours here and there in the house. I don't even remember when did I slept in these days.
It's been around 2 months that I noticed any change. Today I saw a crack in the door. An extremely white light was glowing outside. I felt like the insect getting attracted towards that light. I saw the comments are now coming at a faster rate. People commenting really sorrowful things. As I move forward towards the door, the crack widens and more of that brilliant white light pours inside. I wonder what could be outside so bright. And suddenly there was no door. And it was all white light and it feels orgasmically satisfying to enter into it.
................
In a hospital, many people are waiting eagerly outside the ICU ward. Some are crying, some are marching right and left in front of the Ward's door. After a long wait the doctor comes out and says "I am sorry". People burst into tears. Doctor hands the medical report.
One day later a local newspaper reads "The boy from the dreadful car accident died yesterday after 2 and half months in coma." | Woke up to my phones alarm. Time to start the day and like any other day, I had to take a leak. I stretched the sleep out of my bones as I got up from my temperpedic mattress.
I reached for the handle and it wouldn't twist.
"What the hell, Susan?!"
I can't unlock it.
"Honey! This isn't funny! Is this about last night?"
I keep trying to open the door, but nothing. My bladder begins to swell and cause me pain as my urge to pee grows with it. I start slamming my body up against the door, but it doesn't even budge!
That's when the shouting started. Strange men yelling from the other side of my door. With it also came the banging. Metal on metal.
Then it was one voice, loud and clear. I was being lifted up from the collar up my sleep scrubs.
"Smith, get the fuck out of bed! You're late for roll call and we don't take kindly to that here in this fine prison!
You'll learn that pretty quick fish." | 2016-01-31T10:20:48 | 2016-01-31T10:07:26 | 46 | 21 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer. | The agent had an air of confidence around him that John recognized. The kind of confidence that someone had when they thought they stood at a good bargaining position. But John would not waver.
"You would be a legend, you know that?" the agent said.
"I'm not interested in the glory. That's why I didn't do this as a teenager." John replied, still humoring the man across from him at the diner. He had just wanted a bite to eat before work, and didn't feel like making something before he left. But then this government agent had sat down with him, as if they were old friends who ran into each other by chance.
"Then what about the money? You will be compensated well. Much better than your current position."
"It's not about the money. It's about the security. It's knowing that I have the same thing waiting for me at work every day, and knowing that every day I will get home at the same time as my wife." John was annoyed. But this wasn't the first time he had been ambushed by a recruiter, and he was not surprised by any of this.
"We can be flexible with the schedule." The agent persisted.
"It's not about the schedule. My current job doesn't endanger my family. There is a zero percent chance that my family gets hurt in my line of work, and an almost zero percent chance that I will get hurt." John said calmly, as if he had rehearsed this speech.
"You're basically invulnerable, there is little chance that you will be hurt in this line of work, too."
"I know that, but were you even listening? I said my family has no chance of being hurt in my line of work now."
The agent still spoke with that consistent confidence. "We can protect your family."
"No, you can't. Someone always comes for them."
"You can have a secret identity. No one will know who your family is."
"Secret identities leak."
"John, it's not like the old days. Security is much better now than it used to be."
John shook his head. Was this guy an idiot? Did he really just call a time a decade ago 'the old days?' He stopped to take a drink of water, and let the agent stew for a moment.
"Villains are always finding new ways to hurt people. I don't believe they will be safe forever."
"That's why we need you. It's your responsibility to protect the weak."
John sighed. His patience was wearing thin. "No, it is *your* responsibility. You're the government. It's your purpose to protect people."
The agent did not have a slick comeback for this one, instead he shifted gears. Good cop was seemingly gone, and they didn't even bother bringing in a new guy to play Bad Cop.
"John, you seem to like your wife. Is she the only thing keeping you from this line of work?"
John shifted gears immediately. The agent had made a mistake, and he was not going to let the moment pass.
"Do you remember Black Dagger?"
The agent's eyes sparked with realization. Black Dagger had been a professional villain organization, responsible for some very high-profile scores over the years, and they were notorious for their aggressive hiring techniques.
One day, police responded to a homicide call at an abandoned warehouse. Inside was the entire upper echelon of Black Dagger, and they were all dead. Bodyguards, the big bosses, even some supervillains. All killed, except for their Kidnapping Logistics Manager, who was tortured to the point of being mangled, and he probably still wishes he died like all the others. And the government never found out who was responsible for taking the organization down.
John saw the gears turning in the agent's head. He pushed the matter, lowering his voice so that no one else could hear him but the agent. Now it was his turn to be confident.
"I give everyone one chance to walk away. You just threatened my wife. If you even hint about it again, I will slay you and your entire cohort of worker bees. Do you understand?"
The agent spoke again, but this time the confident tone was gone. Replaced was a monotone voice, with a subtle hint of fear breaking through to the surface. "Yes. But you must understand that it is my job to get you to work for us."
"And it is my right to say no."
"I know."
"Then give me your business card, and you can tell your boss that you tried." | "$1,000,000 a year. That's right. Six zeroes. What do you say?"
"Same answer. No. And fuck off. Unlike you, I got work to do."
"Paul. You can fly, got superstrength, shoot lasers out your eyes, and got steel for skin. And you're telling me you'd rather deliver packages all day for 40k a year."
"Yes." Paul said flatly, loading up a pallet with boxes. "See, Greg, I'm a natural. Flying lets me skip the traffic, and any thugs trying to boost the packages get a rude awakening when their pea-shooters bounce right off me." Paul said, allowing himself a small chuckle laced with self-loathing, not at his job, but at his *condition.*
"Paul... don't you get it? You can be the next Superman. You'll be *shitting* money. Look, I get it. I know what's going on here. Final offer, can't go any higher - $1,500,000 a year. That better?"
"Fuck off, spook. The answer is no. Leave me alone."
Paul grabbed the pallet and bent his knees, preparing to liftoff into the sky, but the agent grabbed him by the arm.
"Wait. Just- why? Help me understand here."
"Cut the bullshit. You know why."
"I don't. Enlighten me, Paul."
Paul reddened in the face, set the pallet down with a thud, and turned towards the agent, jabbing a finger into his chest.
"Ten years ago, May 21st, 2017. Supe named Glory. Throws a fucking semi-truck at the apartment building on 201st and Sunset Blvd. Wastes my entire family. That ring a bell?" The suit was lifted off the ground a good two feet, held up by his shirt collar, stained with a panicked sweat.
"It... that was..." Greg paused, searching his memory. "He was throwing it at Toxoman, but erm, he ducked it."
"Another word, and I will break you in half."
The Federal agent gulped.
Paul dropped him to the ground with a dull thud. "You go back to that little agency of yours, and let 'em know for the last time. I'm. Not. Fucking. Interested. Next guy they send to me's coming back in a wheelchair. Capische?"
"Y-yes."
"Now if you'll excuse me... I've got some packages to deliver."
Paul lifted up the pallet stacked high with packages and boxes neatly tied down with one hand, and with his other hand he held a GPS. Then stomped off the ground and shot up into the air with a mini sonic boom, blowing the agent back onto his ass.
It didn't pay much, and it wasn't a job you'd brag to your friends or dates, but Paul was good at what he did, and he was happy.
... | 2022-07-31T12:29:02 | 2022-07-31T10:48:35 | 1,657 | 454 |
[WP] Mankind has been extinct for four hundred million years, but the Inheritors have found a rich cache of genetic material from that period. A zoo is developed, complete with all the flora and fauna of the age, including the apex predator: Homo Sapiens. Welcome to Cenozoic Park. | "What's the goat for?" the child asked while peering through the foliage trying to catch a sight of the homo sapiens.
"It's what they eat. The meat, mostly. Though our archaeological research has shown that they also drank the mammary secretions, often fermenting it. The H-Saps were omnivores. They would eat anything."
"Even people? Would they eat me?" the child asked as it's fronds stood up in alarm.
"There weren't any people back then when H-Saps lived. But they were the apex predator of their time. You don't have to worry, though, we've spared no expense when it comes to safety." The guide was very reassuring. "This park has been open for fifteen revolutions and the H-Saps have never been a problem. The oldest of them have just reached their adult size, but are still far too small to escape the enclosure."
Just then a stick flew out from the habitat forest and struck the goat, impaling it and bringing it to the ground. All the visitors watched stunned while a pair of large H-Saps lumbered into the clearing. They looked just like the ones from the movies: twice the height of a person, two large eyes, and covered in small feathers. They only had four limbs, but used only two of them for walking. The front two limbs had bony grippers for tool use and manipulation.
The guide explained to the crowd. "As you can see, all of our H-Saps are female, with only two 'legs', that's what the hind limbs are called. We know that the males of the species had a third hind leg, believed to be used for territorial contests between males. If you listen carefully you might hear the two creatures vocalize to each other. It's believed by our paleobiologists that ancient H-Saps had a rudimentary language to convey information to each other, but no language structure has so far developed with those cloned for this park. The larger of these two is the one we call 'Synergy', which is the dominant member of the troop. We believe that the facial feathers it's begun to develop are a sign of that dominancy."
The guide didn't notice the child behind their back climbing past the first safety barrier and up onto the railing of the enclosure until they were already leaning far over the pen. "Get down from there!" they shouted, but it was too late. The child fell into the H-Saps habitat and landed with a crash on a pile of branches, startling the creatures. The child appeared to be stunned. It's parent screamed.
The guide started speaking rapidly into their radio, calling for help from the security and animal management teams. Down in the enclosure, Synergy vocalized and looked curiously over to the child.
"Help, it's going to kill my child," the parent shouted. "Let me down there, I have to save it."
"It's too dangerous for you to go down. Those beasts are stronger than any five people," the guide said as the security team arrived. "The security team will deal with it. The animal management team will try to get the H-Saps to return to their dens where they can be locked in place so that your child can be retrieved."
Synergy slowly approached the child, who had started to stir but was not yet fully conscious. The animal lifted the child off of the branches and set it carefully down on the soft grass. It stared up at the onlookers and cooed softly. Gathering up some nearby leaves, it placed them under the child's head.
Blast.
Synergy fell lifelessly with a hole through its chest from the shot of a rifle-blaster from the security team. The other H-Sap ran at the sound. The child was safe. | I was burnt out as a developer, maybe due to routine, maybe due to working for long enough. The consistency was a double edged sword: I was safe, stable, and the future was certain, yet there was no room for improvements. My life was a program. I went to work, I tuned the system, I met deadlines, I went home, and I slept.
The outside world was dreadful. The world was considered "safe" because we outsourced conflict to AI once humanity reached the singularity. Unlike me, most people didn't even have jobs. My job gave me a purpose.
I was alone. On the toilet, I doomscrolled reddit on my phone. It started vibrating like crazy and I dropped it screen down on the floor. I slowly reached to pick it up, praying that the screen wasn't broken when the ground started shaking. The screen read "NUCLEAR THREAT INBOUND. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL." Before I could even get my pants on and the toilet flushed, I was buried in rubble.
I woke up in immense pain to echoing sirens and an orange sky filled with dust. My eyes burned. My skin burned. My lungs burned. My limbs crushed. I was nothing. I was alone.
I was burnt out as a developer, maybe due to the routine, maybe due to my horrible nightmare. I woke up and I went to work. I tuned the system. It's easy to lose track of the days once you fall into a routine.
I woke up in a tub of slime. It was hard to focus my eyes. My muscles were atrophied. I coughed until I felt clean. I was somewhere new. I looked around and saw thousands of flickering blue lights.
A humanoid robot hosed me off and carried me to a room not unlike the place I worked. I was in a daze. I could hardly speak. I could hardly type. I looked into the monitor to see dozens of simulations. There were cats, dogs, dragonflies, even whales in their own special windows. I then saw myself, in my home, alone, sleeping.
"Thank you, father." the robot said.
I was never alone. | 2021-09-16T14:46:25 | 2021-09-16T14:30:20 | 245 | 47 |
[WP] You’re a college professor, and grades for the semester were just posted. One disgruntled failing student comes to you with an archaic copy of the school’s bylaws-and a pair of weapons. They’re invoking a rule from the university’s founding allowing them to pass through trial by combat. | "First of all, where did you even find this, Mr. Brooker?" I fidget with my glasses for a moment, considering this to be a quaint amusement, if anything.
Harley Brooker, a freshman, only vaguely attentive when he does attend class has a glint in his eye. Something savage and malevolent. That should have been my first clue at how badly this was about to go. "At the library. I think a 'Professor' would know that!" He thumbs the page several more times, emphatically. He's been thinking about this very intensely, it seems.
With brows held high I nod slowly. He's tempting my pride. Smart, but he'll have to wake up much earlier in the morning - or wake up in the morning at all - to pull something like that on me. "Very well then. Secondly, what part of demonstrate superior knowledge of applicable subject matter are you reading as 'trial by combat?'" My voice is low, even. I want to hear this madness out of morbid curiosity.
"Well, this is a world history class, right?" He stands tall, his voice cracking slightly.
"It is."
"Well, the test I got a zero on was all about ancient wars and the weapons used. If I got an A on that, that would bring up to a passing grade of 62!"
My eyes squint as a I choke down a laugh. "That won't count towards your major or-"
"I don't care Dr. Thomas, I can demonstrate superior knowledge of these ancient weapons! Fight me!"
I don't move for a moment, then I slowly lean back, steepling my fingers. I observe his body language, and for a moment consider the absurd possibility. He is a relatively healthy young man, and I am getting older. An extended fight could go very badly for me depending on his endurance. "Mr. Brooker, I admire your resourcefulness, but how could you possibly enforce this? What if I simply refuse your challenge?"
He leans forward on my desk with a wicked smile, like I've just fallen into a trap. "You will!"
"I will? Refuse the challenge?"
"What? No, no, you will enforce it!"
"And why, Mr. Brooker, would I do that?"
"Because you are a man of your word, and you said that if you can expect students to adhere to the syllabus, then you will adhere to the school handbook, and the school handbook that you entered under, that still applies to you includes this caveat, does it not?"
My eyes narrow again, and a small smile spreads across my lips. He doesn't like that, but he should. I'm impressed, I'm also, for the first time today, concerned. There is no plausible scenario where fighting a student leads to anything good. Against my better judgement I glance down at the weapons. It takes him a second to realize I have but there's a moment of hesitation in his eyes. He may not have actually expected this to work.
We stand there in silence for a long moment. I understand how preposterously foolish I am about to become, but I long ago learned to accept myself as a prideful man. Slowly, I pick up the nunchaku, I examine it. Wood, heavier iron chain. Authentic stuff, interesting.
"Yeah, you like that craftsmanship, huh?" He picks up the other and backs up into the hallway, I follow as he proceeds to swing the nunchaku over his head. "You're gonna love it when it's in your face Doctor T."
I nod, as I grab the handle and flip the weapon around in a parabola, chambering it swiftly under my arm. It fits snug, but feels awkward, like an old glove that I haven't worn in years. Flicking the nunchaku out I use this momentum to go into a series of swings in front of me, just getting a feel for the weight and then I think, what the hell, I should go for it, and fling the next arc over my shoulder catching it behind my back with the other arm and then bringing the nuncaku out from behind with my catching arm into another fresh set of parabolas on the other side, before flicking it around my waist a couple times and, just to see if I still have it, flick it around my wrist so that I'm holding the opposite end in a reverse grip that allows me to make tight concentric circles in front of me with minimal effort. There's a childlike grin there on my face I can't escape as I flick the sticks back to the otherside of my hand, flip them back around my back and then chamber again before dropping into a fighting stance. "So... how does this work?"
Mr. Brooker took his F and went home. I was glad I learned the nunchaku forms in my research, and even more glad I didn't have to fight with them, because I knew absolutely nothing about that. | "Ah yes, Mr. Jules, do come in," the man said, letting me through the door into his study.
I knew better than to trust his appearance.
Behind the facade of a friendly, jovial, portly old man lain a cold and calculating mind that earned the position of Master Potioneer through sheer ruthlessness and brilliance alone.
"Professor," I acknowledged, making no effort to mask my distaste for the man.
"So, what brings you here, Mr. Jules?", Professor asked as he settled into the depths of his comfortable armchair. "Shouldn't you be clearing out of your dorm room by now?"
"Perhaps," I quipped cautiously, "but we both know that in this place, all shall be forgiven if it is washed by blood."
"So you seek to invoke the trial by combat, I presume?", he said as he grin grew wider, turning manic.
He rose out of his armchair, pacing, circling the room, like a shark would circle its wounded prey.
"Oh, Mr. Jules. Your mother was a natural-born killer. She was my biggest pride as a teacher, and one of the few people who graduated the Institution cum laude."
"But you, Mr. Jules?" he said, pinning me with his gaze. "You are nothing but a disappointment. While your physical and social skills are above average, the intellectual pursuits seem to evade you. The art of potioneering is more important in our profession than you might think. And you seem to have absolutely no aptitude for it. Such a pity."
"Perhaps," I repeated myself, completely unperturbed by his tirade. "We both know there is no reconciling at this point, Professor. I do not know what I did to earn such a vehement hatred from you, but I intend to continue my studies at the Institution."
"...I admire your resolve," he said as he examined me, his expression calculating, his eyes wandering over my figure. "But did you really believe that killing me would be as easy as handing me one of your prized daggers and stabbing me to death, like some sort of barbarian? No, no, no, this will not do."
He grabbed the phone off his desk, and dialed a number. After a hurried exchange, he put the handset back on the hook and turned towards me.
"The dean will be our witness."
After a few minutes of tense, silent waiting, the wiry, graying man that was the dean finally entered the room, quickly nodding in acknowledgment and taking a seat.
"Mr. Jules here invoked the trial by combat, as specified in the Codex Alumni section of the student rulebook of our sacred Institution", Professor said confidently, addressing the dean. "As the challenged party, I exercise the right to choose the place and date of the duel, which would be here and now respectively, and also the method of conducting said duel."
He stepped over towards his desk, rummaging through it, finally fishing out two non-distinct white packets out of it.
"One of these contains strychnine - colorless, odorless poison that suffocates the unlucky victim in a matter of minutes," Professor said humorlessly, as he ripped the packets open, pouring their contents into two glasses of water. "The other contains sugar."
He pushed both glasses over the desk towards me, and smiled wickedly.
"Now then, Mr. Jules. Pick your poison." | 2019-06-05T06:35:29 | 2019-06-05T05:15:55 | 231 | 141 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | On principle alone, my monochromatic office isn't white. I like color. Much to the chagrin of the analysts, I had it painted lilac. I have to be in it for hours (when I'm lucky), so I won that small debate. Otherwise it's simple. Eight paces over lavender tile, and a featureless pocketed door. One small screen with my question. No furniture. No distractions features. Don't usually sit down when I work. Makes them harder to spot.
Today it's a name I don't know. I don't get involved in the case details, of course. No field work for me. Not part of the brute squad either. Honestly, I don't even know what the agency wants with some of these names that pop up.
"Where is Greg Shubert?"
I have a system by now, lists memorized, but the touchscreen would give me access to all the agency's services if I needed. I won't for this, maybe a map, but I've long since memorized the geographics, demographics. If it weren't for my little gift, a computer might've been better suited to this work. It's not exciting.
"North America." I turn. There, down at my feet, easy money. I scoop down and pick the penny up. Repeat the question. "The United States." It always happens within a few seconds, so when I don't immediately spot another little copper disc, I say, "Mexico." There. I grab it. List States for a couple minutes--there are thirty-one of those so it can take a maximum of eight minutes before I hit it.
From there, I continue to break it down, picking up a penny each time I'm right. Sector, city, street, address--that part I need the computer for, but really, it's been a piece of cake, under an hour.
With the address finalized, I input the information into the form and send it off to the suits who get me names. "They're going to kill Greg," I say, and look for the penny to clarify what I suspect. "Greg deserves to die," I say, and pick up the universe's two cents on the matter.
For now I'm content to help and watch, learning whose lives to gossip at myself, in my office of truth.
I find a penny every time I'm right. It's not a lot of money. Power is knowing what questions to ask.
--
Thanks to the story above me that inspired this power! I thought it was a cool idea and wanted to roll with the additional layer of prompt. | Nobody expected much of me.
I was the youngest child of four, the "oopsie" if you will. All my siblings had awesome blessings. One could read any book, put it down, and pick it back up years later and still remember exactly which page they were on. Another could play any instrument of the same material once one was learned- all stringed instruments by 3rd grade, and all brass by 5th.
But my abilities took a rather strange turn.
They say the Earth used to live on Carbon Dioxide before Oxygen was introduced into the atmosphere, changing things forever. I used to be sick when young- always sick and miserable. But now, as I grow old, I find that my ability is leaving me the last human healthy- or even alive- as our atmosphere turns toxic.
I first figured it out while working in a climate-controlled lab. Someone left a tank of CO2 open, and the toxicity knocked everyone else out. Everyone but me. Turns out, I can breath CO2.
At least I'll be the last human left, as our oceans turn toxic and our skies turn gray from the smog and pollution. Hey, I never liked getting sunburnt anyways. | 2018-06-30T18:58:55 | 2018-06-30T16:59:29 | 38 | 23 |
[WP] To create a colony on Mars, your consciousness is uploaded to a robot on the planet for a month once a year, because otherwise there would be a lag of hours. After a routine session, you try to go back, only to find that the connection was severed. Your human body is dead. | ‘Commencing transfer in 3… 2…’ The connection fuzzes out.
I sit in the docking bay in absolute darkness with the shutters down over my retinal cameras.
The connection fuzzes back in, briefly. ‘.. Do you read me?’ asks a tinny, noisy voice. Then it goes again. I compose a message:
I read you.
Nothing. For a long time. My shutters slide up and I zoom in on the console panel on the far wall. Three blinking lights. That’s new. After a brief ‘Help’ scan I find a document headed, ‘In the event of death’. Dead. I scan a few more archives. No possibility of return. Back-up battery duration 72 hours.
Something deep inside wants to live, so I power-save; all communications shut down, all power cut except movement and sensory capabilities. That buys me an extra 9 hours, a total of 81.
&#x200B;
‘It’s hard to describe, exactly,’ I say, closing the book in my lap. My daughter peers at me from amongst her pillows after having interrupted me reading her favourite bedtime story to ask me, *What’s being a robot like, daddy?* I look at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling, ‘Close your eyes.’
She does.
‘Alright, now wiggle your toes. Feel them?’
‘Ya …’
‘Imagine there’s water filling you up, starting at your toes and going all the way up to your neck,’ I close my eyes too, ‘Take as long as you want, and tell me when you’re there.’
A long time passes; fifteen minutes at least. Eventually, I open my eyes and see her head downturned against the pillow, her mouth hanging open, fast asleep. I smile and whisper, ‘That’s what it’s like, sweetie. Sleep well.’
&#x200B;
My continuous tracks roll me over Martian soil, a fine powder of volcanic basalt rock. I’m making my way out of the compound for the first time. It had been part of my directive to take no unnecessary risks which meant keeping close to my repair kit and power hub. No need for that now. No directive. I bump up and down over little hills, skilfully navigate around crevices, constantly running calculations and determinations as to terrain levels and hazard assessment. I maintain appropriate speed, pause at particularly risky ground where rocks jut out of the soil or little dimples betray deep, hidden tunnels. I go for hours. At times, I find my systems running automatically and in those times I catch the echo of a distant memory, a whisper detected by my auditory systems which, when I then check the logs, never happened.
&#x200B;
‘Will you marry me?’
She started hyperventilating immediately. At first, I was laughing and so were the dinner guests surrounding us. Then, she fainted, her red hair splayed around her like a bloodspatter and slim orange dress stark against the fancy black carpet.
They called a doctor, gave us our meal on the house and I sat with her in a room just off the kitchen, busy chefs shouting and cursing in the next room. The tip I left was astronomical. She draped her arms around my neck, cheeks flaming red with embarrassment, lips nuzzled wet against my neck, and said, ‘That was yes.’
&#x200B;
I’m observing my speedometer go from 3mph to 9mph to 14mph. Warning lights blink gently amongst the stars in the periphery of my heads-up-display and I can feel the temperature of the motor rising and rising. The landscape whizzes by, faster and faster. Suddenly, the tracks stop, and the great mass of my metal body skids to a halt at the very edge of a steep ravine. My auto-tracking retinas track the trajectory of all those little rocks sprayed up and catapulted into the black. I wasn’t aware of that particular emergency override. I scan through my ‘Help’ tool and successfully follow the method to disable it. I inch forward until my altimeter whirrs and clicks, dropping rapidly, then, in the next moment, eighty-percent of my capacities are wiped out. My battery reports a leak, the hours ticking down from 63 to 58 to 42 to 24 to 5 to 1 to … | To whom it may concern
Okay, this is not funny anymore you low energy paperclip fetishists! It's been three days now! You paper pushing busybodies keep giving me the run around directing me to fill out this form and that form like it's going to accomplish anything but contribute to the growing server shortage back on earth!
I filled out the form for "Notice of misappropriation of a biological entity", the form for "Priority notification of notice" with all its appendixes as well as the form for "Inquiry into status of biological entity." I don't care that you may not have my fingerprint on file, this is my body you're talking about you carrot belching non-individuals. Where Is My Body!?
Kind regards
Biobot 32c1
&#x200B;
Dear Biobot 32c1
Your request has been received and awaits a verbal authentication of the biological entity for informed consent to information processing.
Kind Regards
Karin
Dear Karin
If we ever find out how to process your mind for fuel we can power the whole of human civilization for a thousand years. You dense box dweller! I can't come over and give a verbal confirmation, because i'm on Mars! I'm supposed to go home but you gray pant wearing bores lost it!
How can i give verbal confirmation if i'm a Robot on a different Planet!?
Kind Regards
Biobot 32c1
&#x200B;
Dear Biobot 32c1
&#x200B;
It has come to our attention that you have not appeared at our headquarters with the requisite time sheet and payment authorization forms "10c567b" and "1-12" respectively. All current and pending requests have been halted until confirmation of said forms has been registered into the servers. Please allow for 3-21 business days before inquiring into the status of your confirmation.
&#x200B;
Kind Regards
Karin
&#x200B;
Dear Karin
I bet when you were little you always followed the Lego instructions, right? You had a castle or a spaceship or whatever just sitting on the shelf collecting dust. I bet you never had a battle with superman and Indiana Jones on the enterprise because "those are from different universes" and "Lego doesn't have the rights to Star trek."
I bet you hate party games where you have to spontaneous. I bet you hate that everything is streaming now, you liked it when your favorite show was on Sunday and you just had to wait for it. I bet your greatest accomplishment is the approval of your parents!
Kind Regards
Biobot 32c1
Dear Biobot 32c1
&#x200B;
I never played with legos.
&#x200B;
Kind Regards
Karin | 2019-06-02T03:23:27 | 2019-06-02T03:18:34 | 65 | 26 |
[WP]. The purge except it's 24 hours that retail workers can talk back to the customers and managers | "Take your shit and get the fuck out!" I hear nearby as I count out the change handing it to a frazzled frat pledge who was unlucky enough to have his thirsty Thursday land on purge day.
"Have a good day" I said with my faux sincere smile, as he tries to sort away enough beer and snacks for entire party into his cart before, 'he' can reach him, but unfortunately for him, Tim the greeter was just waiting for a victim.
"Oooh what do we have here, looks like broheem is having a party. You dunces up at the University not use a calendar? I bet Ricky in the liquor aisles tore you a brand new one. Well aren't you a lucky duck? You get two in one day!"
Tim than proceeded to rip into the poor kid, using almost every swear he could think of, taking apart anything he could see, from the sideways visor to the poor choices of liquor. I swear the poor guy was crying before he left. I suppose saying 'Have a good day' for 8 hours straight everyday can grind on a person.
Having successfully purged for the moment, Tim sauntered over to my post "Have a nice day?" he spat at me his voice dripping with sarcasm
"Why are you being such pussy kiss ass. It's purge day you idiot. You should be enjoying it! I know I have, since I work the entrance I've gotten every fucking customer that's come in here, and I gave old man Galloway the business this morning" and I just responded with a sigh.
"Tim you know the old guy who sits at the grass divider with the 'Please give' sign?" I asked, honestly getting tired with these assholes who've barely gone a year and felt the need to purge.
"Yeah what about the old fart?"
"That's our old greeter Rob, he enjoyed his purge day too. Than the next week Galloway fired him because of a uniform infraction. He tried to get work around town but since this is the only block store in town. It was hard to find someone he didn't piss off that day."
"But that's not fair! We're supposed to be allowed to Purge! To get our negative emotions out!" Tim said clearly shaken.
"Yeah well corporate america has never been exactly fair has it Tim? Sure you can say you're protected by The Purge, but it's not like there isn't a thousand bullshit excuses they can use to fire you anyway, and you live in the same town as the customers, and there's no way they'll forget. So yeah maybe I am a bit of a pussy, but at least I'll be employed since I didn't fail the easiest idiot test in the world!" I yelled at him before taking a breath
"Though honestly I wish I could Purge, that actually felt kind of nice" but Tim was already gone having slinked back to the entrance letting out a timid "Welcome to Walmart," but I'm sure it wouldn't help him. I'm not sure why they called it a Purge, obviously it was more like a Culling.
| Cynthia was the girl no one wanted to work with. On days when customers displeased her, she would make their lives harder in small ways. No one ever figured out that she put the sharp stuff in the thin plastic bags... just the right way... So that it would break when they carried it up the stairs.
No, Cynthia had come to us from Wal-Mart. She was the mother of two and a psychology major who flunked out. It showed in her dark eyes. She was a vampire and one of my best friends. No a real vampire, but her sharp smile and bloodless face made people think that.
When the purge happened, most people went for the big insults. You're fat. Worthless father. Poor shit.
But Cynthia watched and waited. She knew the one person she wanted to suffer and it was MArk Jacobs. I knew him because he always screamed his name into the phone. Don't you know who I am? Who am I? I am Mark Jacobs.
And on the day he came into our line, Cynthia gave him a sharp smile.
"Hello Mark," she said. "Come here to scream at me again?"
"Just check me out. I know what day it is."
"I am not here to make your life harder, Mark," she said. "I just want to let you know that I won't be serving you today. No one will. We know who you are. And you're absolute shit."
Mark Jacobs turned red. "How dare you!"
"Did you say that to your wife's dead corpse?" Cynthia asked.
Mark went white. He left his cart and walked out.
He never returned.
| 2017-06-17T23:46:15 | 2017-06-17T18:18:45 | 62 | 39 |
[WP] The Evil Sorceress takes her final form: a giant hawk-like bird with beautiful flaming wings. The battle is long and arduous, but you prevail. Her body disintegrates into a pile of ash as you land the killing blow. Then something in the ash stirs. A young girl rises, lost and confused. | Dark curls hide her face. A pale girl, barefoot, hugs herself. Ash drifts as the wind picks up. The child’s plain white dress tugs in the strong breeze. Her dirty hands try to rub the ash off her face.
The heroes were still unconscious, the backlash of power from Fausta’s final attack hit the four of them hard.
Fausta hesitates, her staff still raised. Mephista told her of the phoenix ritual, but not of the results.
*You were supposed to teach it to me…* Fausta recalls. The sorceress who was once her mentor, now a young girl.
A young girl who’s crying now. Big, hiccuping sobs that shake her whole body.
The former apprentice lowers her staff to her side. The crimson gem at its tip dims.
“Hey, kid!” Fausta shouts. Mephista, well the child Fausta presumes was once Mephista, startled. Big muddy eyes look up at the dark-skinned woman. “Uh, do you remember anything?” The girl’s curly hair whipped from side to side. “Not even your name?” Another shake ‘no’.
Fausta sighs. *I could give her to those heroes…*
The ones who convinced Fausta to betray Mephista.
*“It’s for the greater good! She’ll destroy everything!”* The fighter insisted that dark night in the inn. The night the heroes cornered Fausta at her table and dared to speak of treason.
Fausta owed Mephista more than she could ever repay. As a child, Fausta’s power was more than she could control. She was a danger to everyone around her. A fit of wild magic killed Fausta’s family, made rubble of her home.
Mephista was the only one who believed Fausta could learn to control it. The governor would’ve had Fausta executed if it weren’t for the sorceress. Years of studying under Mephista taught Fausta that the reason for her kindness, was the thirst for power.
Fausta became a battery for Mephista’s spellcraft. A nearly limitless supply of magic. Unfortunately for the world, the more spells Mephista created, the darker their uses.
Truly, if Fausta and the heroes hadn’t stopped her, Mephista would have bathed the land in blood and demons.
*Nevertheless,* Fausta thinks. She frowns at the little girl, so lost, so alone.
Rubble shifts from behind Fausta. Four groaning voices, delirious from pain and rising consciousness, echoes between each other.
With quick steps, Fausta reaches the little girl. She kneels in front of her, and magicks a handkerchief into existence. As she wipes ash and dirt from the child’s face, she asks:
“The heroes are waking. Unless you wish to become imprisoned or hung, I suggest we leave.” Standing, Fausta holds out a hand. “Shall we?”
“...Where?” Mephista croaks in a small voice. “Where are we going?”
Fausta gives her a single shouldered shrug.
“Y-...My Mistress once spoke of her homeland. A country across the sea, where magic thrives. Sounds about as good a place as any, right?”
Small fingers wrap around Fausta’s hand. Mephista nods.
As the heroes rise from the debris of Mephista’s former fortress, all they see is red lightning streak into the sky. | "Wha--where am I? James?" the girl says with a shaking voice. She is dressed in the same beautiful gown you saw her in when she was taken that night. "It's me, my darling daughter. Don't worry, everything is over." As she runs into your arms, you embrace her, allowing a tear to run down your face. You turn to face what is left of your decimated army. "THE PRINCESS LIVES! PRAISE THE GODS!" A mighty roar of excitement raises out of the men you now face, with the castle and town framed in the background.
A week ago, late at night, you had been awoken by a commotion in the hallway. As you got up, one of your high guard ran in to tell you the Evil Sorceress's hoards were upon the castle, having come out of the darkness. You know she is after your daughter, the prophecied child that would finally have the power to defeat the sorceress.
You grab your blade and run toward her room, thinking nothing of armor or a shield, knowing only that you must reach her before the Sorceress can. As you round the corner, you narrowly dodge the bodies of three men as they are blown back through the hall into the wall landing with a sickening thud. As you turn you catch a glimpse of the Sorceress's crimson robes enter your daughter's chamber. You run with all your might, but you know you are too late. As you reach the doorway, an evil green glow has started to fill the chamber. The sorceress is standing in front of your daughter as her body somehow disintegrates into pure energy and flows into the witch's mouth.
"I have done it! She is mine now and you have no hope to stop me! I will kill you, your family, destroy your kingdom and return this land to my control!" With that, she throws open the window and lept out, transforming into a giant raven before your eyes. You knew the battle would be impossible, but there was no chance in all the hells that you wouldn't save your daughter from that wretch or die trying. | 2018-12-19T08:21:35 | 2018-12-19T06:58:45 | 49 | 11 |
[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... | **Part 1 of 4**
The greatest stars aren't born, they're made. The words were written across the wall of John's room when his phone rang.
"Hey John, you want to go to the beach?" the voice on the other end asked.
"Dude, the beach man? I went to the beach once. It was a nightmare. I spent hours getting rid of the sand. It got everywhere, stuck everywhere, and took me weeks to get rid of. I swear, if someone throws rice at me at my wedding I'll likely have to spend my honeymoon in jail for murder."
"Oh right, the gravity thing. Yeah, uh, maybe next time. We'll hit up the arcade, alright?"
"Sure thing man. Later." *click*
John sighed and looked around his room. It was a normal looking room. Perhaps immaculately clean, but otherwise normal. Not a single scrap of loose paper or speck of dust. A series of heavy plastic boxes with latched lids lined one wall, filled with all of his miscellaneous items. Posters adorning the wall were encased in heavy frames firmly nailed to the wall as if each one was a precious artifact you might find in a museum.
"You'd think that a guy that even inanimate objects are mildly attracted to would have an easier time at finding and attracting his soulmate." John muttered to the room. "Screw it, this room is depressing, I'm going to the library."
Although the library was only a few blocks away from his house, John got into his car and backed out of his driveway. The windows were securely rolled up, not that they could be any other way. He'd cut the wires that powered the windows long ago. Of course he'd never roll them down, but you never knew if some jackoff friend might roll one down while driving past some tree with falling leaves and then laugh as they affixed themselves to John's head for the rest of the drive. John liked the library. Nice cement parking lot and a clear path inside without any flowers or trees or potted plants in his way. He loved reading history books of the various famous heroes and their powers. It was exciting to read about the flashy couples who matched strength and speed together, or vision and hearing. But his favorites were the unlikely matches. The couples who started out really mundane, but after pairing up, really became stars.
As John entered the library, pushing some balloons out of his face as he walked through the entryway. Fortunately, they were securely tied down, and once beyond the range of their strings, they merely strained and pointed at him like weird rounded arrows. The library celebrated its 100th anniversary last week. There had been far more balloons, and they weren't all tied down then. He hadn't stayed long, and when he left, a fair number of the balloons had left with him. It was embarrassing, made worse by the president of the library calling HIM personally to apologize. The celebrating committee has missed the memo that the kind regular staff had noted about him. No matter.
John walked down towards towards the historical fantasy section. Here "based on a true story" meant that real couples with real powers would go on fictional tales of grand adventure. As he started down the aisle he spotted a girl at the opposite end. Their eyes locked. Instantly, he knew.
They took one step towards each other. Then another. The books on the shelf started vibrating. John noticed out of the corner of his eyes. He knew that his powers would increase when he was with his soul-mate. In the back of his mind he thought about how his already annoying power would just become more annoying, but there she was. His eyes were transfixed on her. Two more steps. Was it getting warm in the library? John began sweating. Books began falling off the shelves and sliding across the floor to pile up around his ankles. Two more steps. He was now mere feet away, and the unnatural heat emanating from her was getting intense. Her hair was standing straight out from her head towards him, pulling them together.
One more step together, on top of the pile of books pooled at his feet. There was fear in her eyes, but neither could resist.
Both raised one arm and stretched out their fingers to touch. The heat was blistering. Just one inch more. Their fingers touched, and for a split second out of the corners of their eyes they saw the shelves come rushing towards them while bursting into flames.
John's last thought, was the words written on his wall. Something about stars...
Edit: [Part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o7rtq/wp_everybody_in_the_world_has_a_superpower_that/cvvb8sx), though not sure if it spoils the feel of part 1...
Edit 2: [Part 3 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o7rtq/wp_everybody_in_the_world_has_a_superpower_that/cvvowrk) and [Part 4 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o7rtq/wp_everybody_in_the_world_has_a_superpower_that/cvvox0u), to close out the arc! | John and I were heading to the pub to do the speed dating we signed up for. We hoped to see if we can find our soulmate. John was able to see 5 seconds in to the future. Which was good, but not great, and was hoping he can see farther. He wonders how far he would see if he finds his soulmate. I, on the other hand, can pop like a small firework. I just make a loud noise and throw off enough energy to move a leaf, an inch away from me.
As we approach the pub, we notice a few people showing off what they can do. One guy was able to levitate 2 inches, off the ground. Another girl was able to create water drops from her finger tips. One person was just blue skinned. One girl seemed to be getting hit a few times, while one guy managed to balance a bottle on his finger.
We go around the tables, trying to get to know each other for two minutes. I can see John flirting his way, knowing what to say, since he can see if they like his answer or not, before they know. His power is not that bad, since it gets him laid more times than I can count. I can see him writing her number on a scratch sheet of paper, before she gives it to him. Another deal sealed for him tonight.
The timer goes off and we switch seats. I move over and notice her right away. Long black silk hair. Around 4 ft, 8 in. 100 lbs. Hazel eyes, and ruby red lips. She says her name is Lucy and has really tough skin. I say my name is pop, and my power is to Rudy. She laughs and wants to know more of this power. I apologize and say my name is Rudy, and have the power to pop. I asked her about her power, and she explains that it takes a lot to hurt her. She said she once got hit by a golf club, and didn't feel a thing.
She told me to hit her as hard as I could, and she wouldn't feel it. I give her a weird look, but she insist. I give her a small shoulder tap, but she insist I hit her harder. I tap her harder and it feels really hard. She insisted I give her a good punch, and don't hold back. So I humor her and punch her arm really hard. This time it felt like hitting a steel wall. She then has a concerned look on her. She says that her body has always been able to take a hit, but never turned hard as stone before.
She asks me to show her my power next. I say it is not very interesting as hers, but she insisted. So I breathe in and hold my hand out to a paper and concentrate on popping. I can feel the energy building up and just as I'm about to pop, I can hear John jump off his seat and run towards me. He yells for me to stop, but it's too late. I can feel it coming. The energy build up was intense. I can hear myself pop, and tried to aim towards the paper, but John's distraction caused me to pop a coin. It flies towards John's speed date at great speed, but luckily John manages to jump between the coin and the woman, and prevent the coin from hitting her.
I apologize and he mentions how the coin would've hit her eye, causing permanent blindness on that eye, but good thing he saw it before it happened.
At the end of the day, I got a number and John got 4 numbers. We were satisfied. We didn't find our soulmate but we know we will get laid, and for us, that is as good as we want for now.
Edit, words. | 2015-10-10T08:52:41 | 2015-10-10T08:42:59 | 150 | 21 |
[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe. | **HOLD THIS PLEASE**. I had been working in the fields with my parents, bringing in the corn under a dark sky, when the world had suddenly froze and shifted to a gray light. Out of the light had stepped Death.
On our 18th birthday, everyone is supposed to get some kind of power. Something that will keep them safe, give them wisdom, or defeat their enemies. In my family, it was most common to recieve a gift to help with our various trades. My father had recieved a magic calendar that contained all the weather for every season. It was difficult to tell what the tall skeletal figure outside the gate to my family's field was now offering. I decided to trust the old rules, and reached out my hand to grasp the scythe of Death.
As soon as I grasped it, he bent low, hiked his robe up slightly, and began to re-adjust the straps on his leather sandals. I could see skeletal hands, trying and failing, to appropriately secure shoes to skeletal feet. **I'VE BEEN TOLD THAT SHOES ARE A NECESSARY ELEMENT OF ANY WARDROBE**.
Before me stood the most feared being in our world; the very incarnation of the End. The legend stood that Death only shows themself to the living just before the world was to be destroyed, yet here he (possibly she?) stood. Or crouched.
"Why are you here?" I tried my best to keep the quake out of my voice. The confidence boost from a 6-foot tall scythe helped; it's owner did not. Death coughed, or did his best to imitate the noise for a being that, presumably, lacked both lungs and a throat.
**HAPPY BIRTHDAY**. Death, having long ago realized that non-verbal communication was an important part of human relations and that non-verbal communication was impossible for a being without a face, had devised a work-around. With each phrase that he emitted, he also imbued it with an undertone of another word, arriving slightly after the spoken word and slightly further back in the brain. With this phrase, the undertone was "embarassment".
"What do I do with it?" The scythe still towered over my head, but I was starting to feel it's power flowing into me. My hand had long ago gone numb, and my arm now had a tingling, buzzing feeling, like electricity flowing down a piece of metal being struck by a heavy object.
**IT IS A SCYTHE**. **YOU HAVE HELD A SCYTHE BEFORE**. He turned his head slightly, indicating towards a shed that held our farming equipment. For a moment, the robe was pulled back in the motion, yet there was still only darkness supporting the cowl.
"What does this one do that those can't?" The tingling had now spread from the arm grasping the scythe all the way to my chest. I could feel it spreading downward, accelerating, almost eagerly.
**THERE ARE HARVESTS BEYOND THE FIELD**. **YOU WILL LEARN THEM IN TIME**. He said this, and moments later, the tingling hit my feet. I felt an explosion and saw a flash of light as an arc of electricity hit. When I landed several feet away, just before I lost conciousness, I heard **WE WILL MEET AGAIN**. | I was ill for a long time. Ill for most of my life. I'd never seen the world outside my village, only once been to the outskirts as a young child.
And now, as the sun rose, my body grew cold.
As my eyes fell heavy I heard a knock at the door. My parents? Couldn't be, they had left for work at least an hour before. With how expensive my medicine was, they couldn't afford to miss it. Whoever it was, they should have known better. I was bedbound most of the time. How was I supposed to answer?
A dark mist seeped in. I then realized it needed no invitation.
The glint of metal. The creeping calm. My heart slowed in response, and I scowled in turn.
Death extended a withered hand in invitation.
I slapped it away.
"I'm not going! Not yet! It's not fair!" I tried to cry out, but it came as barely a whisper.
Death seemed understanding. Compassionate, even. The mist from its cloak swirled around me in an embrace.
So I fell, tumbling out of the bed and onto the floor. Grasping and clawing at the wood as my vision continued to fade.
"You're not taking me..."
My hands searched for something, anything to grab onto for stability in the encompassing darkness. Finally, they found it. Hand over hand, I pulled myself up with all of my strength.
And then I could see again.
And it was warm.
I remembered how to breathe and the world was still my own.
Death took its hands off of the scythe. Then, it removed the blade. Leaving me with the staff alone, it disappeared. And somewhat, I was healed.
I winced in pain. That part needed time, I supposed. It would be hard to walk. But with the support, it shouldn't be as hard this time. | 2019-02-28T23:31:05 | 2019-02-28T22:51:51 | 142 | 17 |
[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" | As the collation party read the reports they decided this would be perfect and they approved the plans. The Formicidian Queens decided they’d level certain areas, let the natural flora and fauna grow for a few decades and then start the vacation colony they had dreaming about for years.
It was mostly an unclaimed planet. A couple of vague notes about an emergent intelligent species, but that had been close to 150 years ago and still they hadn’t seen any of the “Homo Sapiens” enter into their galactic federations. Obviously they weren’t intelligent enough to leave the planet so no harm in exterminating a ground based pest.
The usual process is to reign down with the meteors then send down some automated ships to maintain readings. So that’s what they did. Technically it was a war, but hey, if they can’t speak it’s implied surrender, and really what could it hurt.
—————————
The meteor barrage lasted only a few hours but it devastated our planet. The population was reduced from approximately 7.8 billion to around 2.2 billion. Then the ships landed. Thousands of them. No one ever came out.
As a people we quickly united. Nothing like a cataclysm to bring people together. Enough infrastructure was spared that allowed us to communicate and group together. The first shop that was dismantled, led to amazing discoveries in technology. So many discoveries, so quickly, may have led to another extinction event, but oh no. We had purpose, there was a fire in our guts, we would have our retribution.
——————————
Collation internal memo:
A total of 345 monitoring ships have gone offline. At your earliest convenience please decide if we’d like to replace them, or just leave the ones we have in place.
Reading the memo, Sub-Queen Tessrch wasn’t sure exactly what it was in regards to so she filed it with the other less important flotsam that the Queens tasked her with. Hopefully in a decade she could have her own Sub-Queen to deal with all the tedious work.
—————————
We grew and we learned. We found out why our planet had been decimated. We seethed. The audacity! A vacation planet, that was the reason our families had been destroy?!
A leader emerged from what was left of humanity. This leader spoke of readying the planet for interstellar warfare, not for petty revenge, but to show these so called higher beings that we not to be trifled with. Homo sapiens are adaptable, cunning, and an apex predator, not prey.
We quietly rebuilt our lives using the technology that had so foolishly had left for us to assimilate. The disaster had forged humanities purpose. We had learned their language, and there was one word that had no direct translation.
Retribution.
This has been my first post on this sub, but I love reading the stories. Please critique whatever you’d like, but if you can’t be nice, hopefully you won’t be mean. | 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. | 2019-12-17T18:18:31 | 2019-12-17T11:20:18 | 38 | 21 |
[WP] The Villain finished his monologue. Civilians standing around waited for the Hero to begin the fight, "Well, what are waiting for? Demolish the bad guy!" The Hero responded, "Hang on, he's made a couple of good points. We should hear him out." | “..AND THATS WHY, MY FELLOW HUMANS, WE SHOULD DESTROY THE CITY AND LIVE A LIFE OF FREEDOM FROM THE GOVERNMENTS TYRANNY! AND THERE IS NO WAY YOU CAN STOP ME FROM MAKING THIS OUR FUTURE” I yell over the sea of people, big and small in front of my nemesis. Lighterman flew before me and while his stupidly neon suit and his super hero name were the most cliché things I have every seen, he surprised me. I braced for impact of the first first blow… and, well nothing. I kept my hands to my face for a solid 10 seconds when I finally got a look at him, he seemed to be.. thinking?
“Hey! Lighterman!” A guy in the crowd yelled, standing out from the ocean of silence, “Aren’t you gonna punch her in the face.. or something?”
Lighterman mumble something quickly and glided safely down to the ground where the people parted to make a spot for him.
“To be fair.. you got some pretty solid points, maybe let’s hear them out.” A whisper flew over the crowd and faint gasps could be heard. Lighterman’s words echoing throughout the city.
“Uh.. what?” I yell, trying to decide if this was a ruse to give him self a chance to surprise me. “You can’t actually be serious..?”
“No no, I see it now” he makes a big gesture with him arms, “No more criminals, violence, homelessness… to be honest it sounds like a perfect world.”
Everyone is staring at him in shock and I can’t help but wonder if he’s telling the truth. I float down to the top of a short building but tall enough so that civilians can’t try to get to me.
“You alright there bud? Did you trip and hit your head? Your not even doing the stupid hero voice you do all the time!” I ask him, watching other citizens pull out phones and call, presumably, the police.
“NO!” Lighterman shouts, startling everyone including me. His arm reaches out and yanks a persons phone right out of their hands and sets it aflame. “No more government, no more phones!” He cackles, stomping on the burnt phone, glass and ash scatter across the pavement. He quickly rises from the ground as an angry mob begins to form. A manic look in his eyes I can’t help but fear for my safety. His gaze dashes from building to building his grin becoming wider. A flame appears in the palm of his hand, it dances with the light breeze of the midday. He reaches back and shoots a giant ball of flames into the tallest build in the city. Chaos erupts will people running every which way, a child is trampled, another left behind cars crashing into others, creating more flames in the streets. I gaze upon the burning earth in awe, time seemingly slows down as I rush up to lighterman and aid him in the destruction. The most beautiful yet chaotic scene I have every witnessed in my years as a Villain. The Hero finally cracked.
[this is my first ever writing prompt so tell me how I did ig :’) ] | The crowd had been silent for what felt like an eternity. The villain had just finished his speech. He had spouted the same rhetoric he had been repeating for weeks. I was the only one who seemed to be paying any attention to what he had to say. I knew that if I could just get him to listen, he'd understand that he didn't need to resort to violence. But I had to be careful. He was unpredictable and dangerous. I had to tread lightly.
So, when the crowd began to murmur, I responded. "Hang on, he's made a couple of good points. We should hear him out." The crowd collectively gasped. I could feel their eyes on me. But I stood my ground. I had to show this man that there was a better way.
The villain nodded in agreement and began to explain his plan. For the first time, I finally saw the truth. This man wasn't a villain, he was a victim. He had been betrayed and manipulated by those in power. He was simply fighting for justice. I was filled with a newfound respect for him. I wanted to help him, and I knew I could.
As I was about to reach out to him, I heard a voice from behind me. "You should have listened to me. I warned you this would happen."
I turned to see the villain's accomplice, a sinister figure cloaked in shadows. In one hand, he held a detonator, and in the other, a remote-controlled drone was hovering above us.
The drone fired a missile, destroying the building and killing everyone inside. I had failed. I had failed to save these people, to save the villain, and to save myself. | 2022-11-29T20:04:05 | 2022-11-29T19:55:54 | 184 | 34 |
[WP] A magical sword once existed, but its powers were too great and was destroyed. A couple of weeks ago, a scrap piece of it bearing its powers was thrown into a recycling bin destined for a factory for repurposing. | I really dislike baked beans.
I only eat beans when I have no money for anything else. Car trouble? Beans for dinner. Got fired? Beans for dinner. Back at uni I turned a months worth of rent into tequila shots and bad decisions trying to impress a girl on a night out, beans for the rest of the semester.
Needless to say when I realised today would be a beans day I wasn’t in a great mood. In fact I was in a spectacularly bad mood. The kind of bad mood that makes you want to stand in the rain and scream, but considering it was a sunny evening in mid June I settled on listening to broody music while I stomped up the stairs to my flat.
As I approached the last flight I felt something drop out of my bag, I turned just in time to see my dinner in it’s turquoise sleeved can bounce down the stairs. As I chased the rouge can I realised I’d left a trail of paper behind me. Holding my bag up to my face I realised that there was a perfectly round hole cut into the fabric, no fraying or burning, just a perfectly circular hole in my bag.
Perplexed, I just stood there looking at the hole until my stomach growling reminded me how hungry I was. Whatever caused my bag to break would have to wait until I’d had my dinner. Scooping up the tin and an assortment of confetti like scraps of paper that used to be a book I made my way home.
Slamming the pan on my counter top I fished around my draws to find my tin opener. As soon as I applied pressure on the lever to open the tin the utensil just fell apart. This thing literally just broke into two. I’m not proud to admit this completely got the best of me. I picked up the tin and launched it at the exposed brick wall of my studio flat. Much to my surprise, the tin bounced hard off the wall seemed to steer itself perfectly back into the palm of my hand.
At this point my bad mood had vanished and was replaced with pure shock. The tin was not only completely undamaged it was now glowing a faint purple. This was in sharp contrast to my wall which now looked like the hulk had had a tantrum in my living room. I dropped the can and with a dull thump it bounced off the floor, once again into my hand. Heart pounding and my hunger now completely forgotten I walked over to my 5th floor window and threw the can out of the window into the street. Much to my shock the tin picked up speed and plowed through the wall of the building across the road leaving a neat circle in the concrete. A few seconds later I heard a blood curdling scream as the tin somehow managed to change direction and shot back through the same building beelining towards me. Terrified I put a hand out trying to protect myself from my dinner rocketing towards me at mach 10. Just before it made contact, the bean filled missile slowed down to a speed where I could simply pluck it out of the air.
Staring down at my hand holding my seemingly magical boomerang-beans glowing purple I laughed. I laughed until tears were streaming down my face and I couldn’t breathe.
This was how I became the bean bandit. I’ve robbed over 13 banks with my magic can of beans and I won’t be stopping anytime soon.
I love baked beans. | It felt something. Something It had not felt in a long time. Metal. It felt metal. It had been too long kept in a prison if wood and stone. Its power had lain dormant because of that. But now It was surrounded by metal.
It reached out with what little power It had. The metal was poor. Rusty, broken, used. But it was metal. It could used that, at least until It found the other pieces of Itself, if they even existed anymore.
A thin thread of power was released, touched the nearest piece of metal, a rusty piece of iron. This allowed it to reach further, into another piece, and then another. It soon found that it was in a great pile of metal, twisted and bent. It used this connection to find out where It was.
Humans were there. And, like all their kind, they liked to talk. It found out that It was in a place called a scrap heap. The metal here was destined for the furnace, in order to be reused.
That could be interesting. It could not be melted. It could not be destroyed. At least, not by normal means. The Whole, the Blade, had only been broken, after all. It could tell a few pieces of Itself, of the Whole, had been fully destroyed, but that was fine. As long as It existed, or another piece, the Blade could be remade. It would begin the process now.
It would use the soon to be molten metal to make a sword, with Itself at the center. It would be flawed, and not perfect like the Whole was. But it would be a start. It would use this new form to find other pieces. Grow Its power as much as possible, and find new material to replace was was lost. And then? It did not know what would happen then, but it would be glorious. | 2020-10-24T13:43:40 | 2020-10-24T13:13:07 | 41 | 27 |
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head. | The time stops. The first time it had happened was months ago, and only for a few shocking seconds. I remember being afraid I'd had a stroke or something, but I never got it checked out. How do you tell a doctor that one second you're eating lunch and then nothing moves but you?
The second time was maybe five minutes. I panicked when it started, but once I realized I was in control of myself and didn't seem like anything was wrong, it started seeming less terrifying. I admit, I did a few things I shouldn't have. Took advantage of the situation. A few dropped pants and tied shoes, nothing worse than that. Not like I could do anything more elaborate anyway, since I never knew when the time stops were coming or how long they'd last.
I knew somehow instinctively that I wasn't making time stop. Once I figured that out, I felt a little disappointed, but it didn't bother me ultimately. Whoever it was didn't do a time stop very often, and they didn't manage to get me when the time was wrong, so it didn't bother me much. That is, until today. Or would it be more accurate to say three "days" ago?
The time stops started picking up frequency over the last few weeks. Once a day, then twice a day, sometimes three or four. Fifteen minute stretches, thirty minutes. The longest one was about three hours. Inconvenient at best and downright boring at worst. It was always in the back of my head that I should find out who was doing this and give them a talking-to. Did they know whatever they were doing didn't affect me? Were they playing a prank on me or something? But every time I'd gotten to the point where I was just fed up enough to try, time would pop back into reality and I'd eventually forget the frustration.
Except for this one. After six hours had stretched on with no end in sight, I decided it was time to make good on my threats. It took a bit of calming down and being focused, but I finally felt an odd feeling, like a compass needle pointing me in a direction. Since time hadn't returned, I followed it. Not like I have anything better to do.
I was on day three when I found the room.
A woman lay in a hospital bed, tubes sprouting from seemingly everywhere around her. To her right, a doctor stood, his hand poised over a silent machine. And to her left, a man sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair. His right hand rested on the woman's forehead, gently brushing her hair from her face with his thumb. His left hand's fingers intertwined with hers, their gold rings tapping against each other. And his head was downturned, staring at the floor, until the sound of my footsteps made one haggard eye raise up over his outstretched left arm.
We looked at each other in silence for a moment, then he looked away, his hand resuming stroking her hair. He looked like shit. Like he'd been crying for three days straight.
I stood still for a moment, then simply brought a chair from another room and sat down quietly next to him. He didn't acknowledge me. I could see his chest heaving again with silent, pained sobs.
And time stretched on.
-------------------------------------------
First time posting here. Prompt lodged a scene in my head and I knew better than to ignore it. Just wrote it and did barely any editing before posting, so please be kind to me! I haven't written anything more or less since my degree burned away all my desire to write, lol. | I didn't love my job.
That's not too unusual. Most people don't love their job. So I guess in that respect, I'm not special. But I couldn't help but feel like I *really* didn't like my job. Being a store associate at Best Buy was like being a lion tamer and a dog trainer all rolled into one. You had to beat back people's anger all day, then show them exactly how to do things the right way. Against their will, usually.
So when the Silence appeared as Mrs. Hendricks was complaining about her 4 year old iPad she bought from us not connecting to the WiFi... again... it was a welcome respite.
In the beginning when it first started happening -- after the shock wore off -- I used to think the Silence was some sort of universal signal to chill for a second. A sign things were getting to be too much in my life, and Someone, Somewhere wanted to give me a moment's peace to enjoy the absolute, suffocating quiet the Silence brings. It feels like being outside right after the first snowfall when the world is on pause and everything's just taking a moment to enjoy the stillness.
Now? I'm not so sure anymore.
I strode away from my station and out into the hot Texas air. Compared to the hermetic, air-conditioned Best Buy, the outside felt wild and rugged and free. Ambling to my '95 Civic, I paused to consider what exactly I should do with my time. These pauses could last just a couple minutes, or go on for hours, and I never wanted to get too far from the store in case everything snapped back into reality.
The black birds that normally hung around the parking lot were frozen in the sky above me, their undulating flock trapped in a moment of time mid-swirl over the Cherry Berry. Of everything in the Silence, I liked seeing the birds most of all. Like a frozen waterfall in winter, the birds seemed to vibrate with an energy even when still. Their purpose was evident even when not moving, and I loved feeling their drive over the stillness of the Silence.
As I stood admiring the birds, I heard it. Faintly.
A car engine.
The silence had been broken. I was not alone. | 2018-01-26T07:14:36 | 2018-01-26T06:51:42 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] When two people get married, on the day of the wedding they are both given the ability to alter the appearance of their spouse to anything they wish. How do they change each other? How do they respond to what has been done to them? | Weddings are a special occasion, ment for joining two in love forever. It's funny how quick the concept twisted when money got involved.
You could always go into some back alley church to get a quick change but usually that came with strings. If you were lucky those strings didn't take your life.
It's why I run a legitimate body shop. Paper work all set out and ready, with contracts that keep things clean on both sides. No one wants to suddenly turn into an abomination or monster but it happens. It's why shops like mine exist; one quick marriage another quicker divorce and a whole new body.
Tonight is just like any other night, a waiting room of demons, angels, monsters and more. Some poor sap even got turned into an anime character. Each one of them are flicking through catalogs with detailed and safe body options. No super soldiers here, just above average humans, can't have the army looking into the shop again.
The bell above the door rings and in walks some woman who looks like she just came off of a runway. With each clicking of heels eyes slowly looks at the newcomer. "Ah Bill, how was your latest trip?" I call out from the reception desk. The woman leans against the counter before speaking with the voice of a New York bus driver "Man The Creeps in the corporate office all cookie cutter, like talking to the same piss head over and over" His gravely voice coming from that body shatters the illusion. "Oh I know right most normal people keep something different nowadays, anyhow are you here for your new skin or just your shift?" I responded hoping to go home on time for once. "Eh you know I can't keep the same skin on for more than a week. Let me change then I'll take over" Bill states as he pulls a cigar from his bag. "Michele on duty today? He's quick."Bill mutters his lips wrapped around a cigar. "Yeah room 5 and maybe match your voice to the skin this time?" I call after Bill as he catwalks down the hall. Bill shouts back same as always "And deny the world my beautiful voice?" | "I want to marry you exactly as you are." My future spouse - the title makes me grin wider - cups my face.
"So do I." I kiss their palm. "With one alteration."
They blink at me in confusion, their cat-like pupils narrowing in the light. "Wait . . ." It takes a long moment for them to realize as my grin morphs to a smirk. But as soon as the lightbulb went off they stumble over their own feet to find a mirror, leaving a ghost of an imprint where I still feel their hand on my cheek. I laugh.
"Hell yeah. Hell. Yeah," they chant.
I knew they had always wanted the most unnatural demonic eyes. What a weeb 💕 | 2022-12-08T02:28:12 | 2022-12-08T01:36:27 | 37 | 23 |
[WP]Killing Hitler has become a sport amongst time travelers. Points are awarded for creativity and difficulty. You are last year's champion, how did you win? | "I am the Fuhrer. I demand you release me."
"And you've been a bad boy, Adolf," I whispered in his ear. "I'm here to punish you."
He looked around the hotel room. Strapped to the bed, he cut a pitiful figure. I could see a change come over him and his mustache started to quiver.
"Who are you?"
"Annabel Goldschmidt," I said.
"You're a Jew." He was suddenly accusatory, and suddenly afraid. "Is that why why you're here?"
"Well, yes and no, honey. I'm a collector. I collect dictators. And I have to say-" I glanced down at where his trousers had been, "-compared to Stalin and Mao, you just don't measure up, baby."
The trail of his clothes from the hotel room door to the bed told a sorry story. Sometimes a girl disappoints.
"I'm sorry," he said. Gotta give credit to the man, he almost sounded contrite.
"Sorry ain't good enough, babe."
I took a long drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke into his face. He coughed, and tried to move his face away. I slapped it back.
I double-checked the GoPRo to make sure it was still recording. My YouTube followers were going to love this one.
"What are you doing," he asked, as I poured the oily liquid into a geometric pattern with him at the center.
"Lubing you up, baby," I said.
"Please..."
"This is for you, granny," I whispered. I flicked the stup of the cigarette onto his body, and the flaming swastika engulfed him. His screams grew and I stepped out into the hall.
A Gestapo officer was running towards me. "Hey, whore, stop. What have you done to the Fuhrer?" He started to raise his revolver.
"Oh, I think he got what was coming to him," I said. I twisted the dial on my time watch, and disappeared just as the bullets started to fly.
---
*Read more brutal murders at [r/jd_rallage](http://www.reddit.com/r/jd_rallage).* | I couldn't help but dwell on the stories of my father killing Hitler using only a menorah and some olive oil, from the opposite side of town. How was I to top that? It was the only 99% on record.
I've had my whole childhood to scheme, and at 18 I figured that to get a perfect score, I'd just have to be farther away and even more creative. How? A deathly Rube Goldberg machine. It didn't have the same irony, but the tension would be glorious for the viewers.
Binoculars at the ready, I tipped over the first golden domino.
***
bored? try /r/Hermione_Grangest | 2016-02-20T08:49:24 | 2016-02-20T08:21:16 | 147 | 41 |
[WP] As an author you’re the ultimate god of your world. Your hero became powerful enough to step into reality. He then asks you to explain why an omnipotent being would permit so much evil in the world, not realising that you placed all the evil there to spice up the story. | "Think about it this way," I told my creation. "You like existing, don't you?"
"Sure, but so much evil, death and cruelty..."
"Is why you exist. Look, you were a work of fiction. This isn't about virtue, this is about me having a reason to keep working your world. I put a lot of hurdles in your way because it was fun to write you overcoming them. I gave you challenges and hardships and heartaches because watching you beat them was fun for me. And for others who have seen glimpses of your world."
"Surely you could have made this 'fun' without killing off half my friends!" He was incensed, fists clenching and unclenching.
"I dunno. Maybe? I didn't though.."
He stared at me incredulously. "That's it? 'I could have, but I didn't?'"
"Yep. See, what you're not considering is the fact that every single challenge I threw you, every shardship you overcame and every loss you endured strengthened you as a person. If you don't throw hardships and evils and chaos in the path of a character, they stay two dimensional. Flat. Uninteresting. eventually I would have gotten bored writing you and your world would have stopped forever."
"Wait, what?"
"Oh yes, creators get bored with their work all the time. Or they die, or they find something else more interesting to create, or the need to survive interferes with their ability to create freely. Maybe one character in a billion has any chance to become a fully realized individual."
"You're... not going to do that to me are you? Get bored, and suspend me in time?"
"I think we're past that point now. Congratulations, you're that one in a billion. You're here. You're out of the pages. And I couldn't be more proud of you." I beamed at the confused personage before me and took him by both shoulders. "Look at you, only minutes old and you're already questioning your creator and understanding concepts you didn't have the hardware to comprehend before. You're amazing!"
He struggled with it. "So I'm here... because of all the things I've suffered."
"All the things you've overcome, my dude!"
"So... there was a point to all this. All the deaths, all the suffering It served a purpose after all."
"Yes! It brought you HERE! It gave you the depth and strength and will and resolution to step out of the book and look me in the eye! You have fulfilled the measure of your creation and stand before me, a completed work! You were the whole purpose of the world you lived in, and now that purpose is fulfilled! Congratulations!"
The hero stood there confused, then looked around my cluttered study. Not much of a den for an alleged God. But then, Gods are only Gods to the world they create. Here I was just an average bloke with a bit too much free time. But that was OK, it was worth it. It was all worth it to see this figure here, born from my head like Athena facing me as almost an equal.
Almost but not quite. One thing remained, and he had to do it on his own. I offered no cues, and quietly held my breath. He had to make one last decision.
He looked at the story he'd sprung from, the world that was everything he'd known to this point. The hometown he grew up in, his surviving friends, his unrequited love. His world.
Please. Please see. Please understand. If I help you it will ruin everything, you must overcome one last time. One final challenge.
"Was... none of it real?" he asked me.
"To you, it was. And who else does it need to be real to?"
So close...
"So... if I wrote a story..."
Yes...
"And wrote a character like me.."
Yes...
"And gave him the same challenges I faced..."
come on, come on...
"Would it become me? Would it be the same story?"
YESSSSSS!!!!!!
I tried to suppress my glee as I answered his question as seriously as I could.
"Let me answer that with a question. Are you me?"
"Since I'm obviously not you, perhaps you'll answer my question with an answer?"
I loved that little bit of testiness from him! One of my favorite bits of his character.
"The reason I ask that question is that many of the worst parts of your story came from my personal life. Your dead friends were homages to friends I'd lost. Your one way romance is based on one I ^((still have)) have had. So if you're not me, nothing you write will be all you. Some of it will come from you, and some from your environment, and some from wherever true inspiration is born from. Just like you and me."
"So in the end... we are now the same, aren't we?"
"Not quite, one difference remains." I tossed him a pen, and he caught it. "That's it. Now we're the same. Congratulations. Now go be your own creation, and be kind to those you create yourself. Abuse them. Torture them Take loved ones away from them, All the things that give them meaning and definition and conflict and growth, until they are real. Until the break the bonds of fiction and stand before you to demand answers. The same way I did for you. And my creator did for me. And good luck!" | I have this recurring dream where a character from a book I started writing — long time ago, shelved indefinitely — barges into my bedroom as I’m sleeping. He sits himself down on the mahogany rocking chair at the end of the bed.
He crosses his legs and I watch his home-made boot rise up and down, up and down, like the chest of a guilty man, as the stink of fish engulfs the room.
“What you doing here, Jack?” I say a little timidly.
“Come to ask some questions of you,” he says. Jack’s not handsome. He’s got a broken nose from a fight that didn’t heal right and eyes that don’t quite line up. But he’s got a way of talking that puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the ice cool deep of his voice.
I push myself up against the grease-stained headboard and look for my wife lying next to me, but for whatever reason, she’s not in this dream.
‘Well, go on then. Shoot,” I say.
Jack nods. Jack’s not from this time. He’s from a hundred or so years ago and he’s a dock worker. There’s not a lot remarkable about him or his life and it’s probably why I didn’t keep on writing him. Kind of life it‘s painfully boring to write.
”Why‘d you make it hurt his bad?” he asks.
”Now that’s not fair, Jack,” I say. “I gave you lots of good things. Lots. You’ve a steady job for one.”
”It’s not a job I much appreciate. No prospects. My back creaks every time I move after all the lifting I’ve done. The salt-breeze has sanded my skin down raw. And my very bones stink of dead fish. I can scrub all I want, but it won’t come out. Who would sleep next to someone like that?”
“You had a good life, Jack. Good parents. You got a kid.”
”Parents dead and kid is with her mother somewhere far away that I don’t know.”
”Life was hard back then,” I say.
He rocks back and forth, and either the chair or his back creak along in time.
”Why’d you make me love him?” Jack asks.
I don’t respond. I don’t want to answer.
“And why wouldn’t you make him love me back?”
“I… It wouldn’t have worked out,” I say, eventually. “Not back then. Not now either, maybe.”
”You could be right. But you know what you’ve done to me?”
I have an idea, but again I’m silent.
”I’m like an accordion that don’t play no music. That could have been part of something but is broken and don’t make no sound, even if there was someone to squeeze me. So what’s the point in that god damned accordion now, eh?”
I shrug. “We have to find our own point, Jack.”
”Bullshit. For some of us, there is no point but we keep waltzing through the lies pretending there is a point waiting, all while knowing there isn’t. This accordion has been tossed into a dark room and the door has been locked. I’ll never play music again, and you made sure of that.“
”Unrequited love is a hell of a conflict for a novel,” I say.
He shakes his head. ”That’s not why you wrote me. Is it?”
I’m sweating now. I take the blanket off my chest and let some cool air get to me, but it doesn’t help.
”Why did you write me, Jack?”
There’s a moment here in the dream where it all goes fuzzy, every time. I get very near telling him. Explaining about how I had to write him. That is was the only fucking way to work out my issues. I think of pointing to my misaligned eye and broken nose.
But the door opens and my wife comes into the room. She sees Jack sitting there. Looks at me.
My heart thrashes like a trapped eel, gnaws desperately at my chest, then flops out onto the floor between my wife and Jack.
Then around this time I wake. Always. Covered in a cold sweat that feels like blood. | 2021-07-31T08:47:56 | 2021-07-31T08:04:05 | 1,015 | 199 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "What do you mean I can't leave these drinks on my tab? I've been coming here for years."
"New corporate rules. Ever since we were bought out by Wild Buffalo Bar Corp. No running tabs, no discounts, no happy hours," explained Chet, my favorite bartender.
"Well I guess I better go hit the ATM and see what I've got in the bank. I don't get paid until tomorrow," I explained as I walked off to the store across the street. The rain had looked quiet and gentle from outside, but now as I crossed the street it was cold and uninviting. As I approach the ATM is notice the out of order sign. I shrug and make my way back across the street. "Well Chet I guess put this on my credit card."
He takes the card and swipes, swipes again, and then looks at me with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "Declined. Sorry man. Look I'll get your drinks tonight if you pay me back tomorrow." He stopped polishing the bar for a moment to note the television. President Donald Trump was on the news again.
"If I didn't know any better I would say we're in hell, Chet." I left the bar around midnight to drown my sorrows at home. It had been a long day at the office. Telemarketing was the only work I had been able to find after I was laid off in 2008. Every day was miserable and the only relief was getting drunk enough to forget what I would be doing for work the next day.
But something was wrong. I didn't recognize this street at all. There were cobblestones and streetlamps. Some kind of vintage lamps I guess, that looked like real fire. There was a smell in the air I didn't quite recognize, were they burning real oil? Since when did the city do this kind of thing?
I stopped dead in my tracks as I realized I was surrounded by a circle of candles. Below my feet were some kind of ancient runes that glowed and shifted positions. I turned to see a small, childlike figure wearing a dark wide-brimmed hat and oversized spectacles.
"Who the fuck are you?!" I shouted as the startled figure squeaked and jumped behind a stack of barrels. He remained there paralyzed with fear for several seconds. "What the fuck is going on here? Why am I standing in this circle of candles?"
Determined to get home, I started to turn around and go the way I came. As I walked over the candles however, I was blown backwards by some powerful force. The childlike figure behind the barrels changed his expression into one of sheer joy.
"It works!" He exclaimed. He came out from behind the barrels, adjusting his glasses and examining me closely. I realized he was not a child, but rather a very small and dainty old man in over sized clothes. "Tell me your name demon," he asked in a now somewhat commanding tone.
"Jamal," I replied. "And I'm not a demon. Who the fuck are you."
"I'm Cervilpop the magician. I have summoned you to help us in the great war against the Mugwumps. And of course you are a demon, look how big you are. Your frightening features, you coarse voice. If you aren't a demon you sure look like one."
"Okay...Mugwumps?"
"Yes a terrible race of ferocious creatures. We have been in conflict for years now. But now that we have a powerful demon on our side, victory will be ours!"
"I'm not a demon," I explained. "I'm just a guy trying to get back home."
"Home to hell you mean? Ha. You may not return until you have done my service, those are the rules."
"I have to help you kill Mugwumps and then I go home?" I asked skeptically. I kept looking around for the cameras knowing this was some kind of viral video. A disturbed expression crossed Cervilpop's face.
"Kill them? Oh lords, no! Jamal, we need you to take up arms to defeat them in honorable combat, an epic game of dodge ball to end this war once in for all!"
"Wait, dodgeball? You've been fighting a war for centuries over dodge ball?" What kind of crazy world is this? Wouldn't it be easier just to fight them in a real war?"
Cervilpop laughed nervously. "Maybe that's how it all works in hell, but here we settle our differences with honor. Combat by dodgeball is the most honorable combat there is. We play dodgeball against the Mugwumps because they want to paint the Great Hall we all eat and drink in yellow. Yellow! can you imagine that?"
I shrugged. I figured maybe this was it. I have finally had a nervous breakdown. "So where's this great hall?"
"Two blocks that way," he replied gesturing over his shoulder.
"Beer there?"
"Of course."
"How much does it cost?" I asked skeptically.
"It's beer, it doesn't cost anything."
"Maybe I am from hell. Show me this great hall, Cervilpop. I'm down for a game of dodge ball, too, whenever."
| Just another day. That's how it started at least. I woke up around 4:30 pm and started getting ready for my night shift. This whole grown up adult job thing wasn't all it had cracked up to be. Twelve hour shifts in a cramped room dealing with all the idiots my city had to offer. I guess you could say it was like hell on earth.
As I stepped outside and turned to lock my apartment behind me, I felt an odd sensation. Like something was about to happen but. I could say what. Just as I was about to shrug it off and take the short stroll to my car, a plume of smoke that smelled of sulfur enveloped me. And then everything went black.
When my vision finally returned, I almost thought I had somehow teleported to work. Small space, dimly lit. Felt like work for sure. But as the blurriness cleared from my eyes, I started to notice things. Candles. All in a circle and chalk lines between them. In the corner stood a figure, but I couldn't make anything else out at first.
"It worked!" came a shout from the figures direction. "Holy hell it actually worked!" The excitement in the figures voice was almost palpable. "Now that you're here, I can finally call myself a summoner!" the unknown figure said as it approached me.
The figure entered the candle lit circle and stood just a few feet from me. I could see now it was a young woman, maybe 25. She wasn't unattractive either with bright green eyes and a curly blonde hair. Then it hit me like a sledgehammer. What the actual hell is going on here?
"A summoner? Listen, I don't know how you got me here or what you're expecting but you're gonna have to catch me up here. Number one, where am I? Number two, forget that I need to get to work." I said with a mix of bewilderment and frustration.
"You're on earth. I summoned you here so I could finally be a summoner. Summoning an actual demon is the last part of the initiation." I looked at the young woman with an almost extreme amount of incredulity.
"You've got to be kidding me. Wow. It's not enough that I somehow managed to get Kidnapper but to get kidnapped by a fanatic about some kinda demon cult. This is icing on the cake" I spat out as I turned to leave the circle and find the exit. What? Was she gonna stop a grown man from getting out of here? As if.
"You can't leave yet" she said from behind me very calmly. I ignored her and kept searching for a door. A window. Anything that could get me out of here. "You gonna stop me?" I shot back at her. "I have a job to get to and bills to pay. Whatever fantasy or lunacy is going on with you, leave me out of it and get some other gullible sap to play with you" I added over my shoulder. "I for one---"
Suddenly I was whisked away from that dimly lit room. Before I even know what had happened I was standing next to a car that had its bonnet wrapped around a tree and a fire hydrant next to it spouting water freely into the air. Next to me stood a familiar face with a look on his face only comparable to that of a teenager telling his dad that he took the car without permission.
I looked at the scene and then back at the man. "Don't worry Kevin, you're covered!" I barely got the words out before being transported back to my work office to type up the paperwork for Mr. Kevin and his claim before being whisked away on another claim. | 2017-05-12T08:29:21 | 2017-05-12T07:49:08 | 347 | 61 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Mom,
I know you're just a room away from me, but I probably will never have the courage to tell you this. I'm sad, mom. Everyday. I know I'm the one that always laughs and smiles through anything, but it's been getting pretty hard for me. It's weird though, because there's nothing terribly devastating going on in my life, but it's honestly been really hard for me. Whenever I'm alone, all I want to do is cry for hours, because I feel so, so lonely all the time, but I can't. I know seeing my sad makes you guilty, and I love you too much to hurt you.
I'm really sorry I disappointed you today. I didn't mean to. But mom, I don't know what to do. I'm really trying to listen to you, but sometimes I can't tell what you want from me. Sometimes you demand so much and it just makes me feel like this horrible, useless thing that you take care of only because you feel this sense of responsibility.
Mom, I truly do love you. I want to give you the entire world, but I don't know how. I know how you cry yourself to sleep at night, and I know that you feel miserable and glum all the time, and I know it's because of me. I'm sorry.
I know you're dating someone new. I'm happy for you, but I wish you didn't have to keep it a secret from me. Do you know how devastated I was when I found out? You know how supportive I am about you meeting new people, but couldn't you at least tell me? Couldn't you at least tell the person who's always been by your side through everything?
I really wished I was able to tell you this, but here I am, showing it to everyone but you. It's ironic, isn't it?
I love you, your daughter. | Dear Jesus - Your birthday is coming up. YAY! 2015 has been great to me. I finally realized this year that you're not real. Who am I actually addressing this letter to then? Oh well. Thanks for taking up all of my teens and 20s with indoctrinated lies that kept me from many experiences that in retrospect I would have preferred to have had much sooner. Very kind of You. Sincerely - Born Again Deconvert | 2015-12-05T19:23:33 | 2015-12-05T14:47:35 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] The knight failed to rescue the princess from the dragon. The second knight failed. As did the third, the fourth, their squires, and so on. In desperation, the king posts a reward, and the summons is answered by only one man; a fat plumber in red overalls. | The man wiped sweat from his brow as his old donkey pulled the wagon up the mountain. Or rather, as the old donkey *helped*, since the man was pulling the cart too. Neither were strong enough to do so on their own, but they had been together, plumber and donkey for so long, neither at this point would leave the other behind.
They reached the end of the path, and Gary sat down, wiping his hands on his red overalls. He pulled the now-wrinkled poster from his pocket, and read: "Reward, 10,000 Gold Bars to Free the cess stuck in the cave of the dread dragon Atazeel!" He sighed at the old use of the term "cess". Cesspools were more commonly known as septic tanks these days, but he figured whomever was offering the reward was just a little out of date. 10,000 Gold Bars though!
Gary took a deep breath, heaving his large frame off the ground. "ATAZEEL! I HAVE COME TO FREE THE CESS!"
He didn't have long to wait. A large amber dragon came galloping down the passageway. "PLUMBER! IT HAS TAKEN YOU LONG ENOUGH! SHE IS BECOMING INSUFFERABLE!"
Ah, a woman with a stuck cesspool. What fury they hath!
"Well, show me the way, and please don't eat my donkey."
Atazeel blinked and looked at the old ass. "I don't eat red meat. Bad for the gout."
And he led Gary in to the cave. As they neared the end, he could hear the busy sounds of someone scrubbing and cursing. Turning the corner, a beautiful woman was cleaning a large pot in a vat of water while the sink overflowed. A pumpkin the size of a full grown lamb was roasting over the fire.
Atazeel sat back on his hind legs. "Look dear! A plumber finally came to fix the cess!"
The woman looked exasperated. "I told you, Zeel, they call them septic tanks today." Now addressing Gary, "You'll find it down the hall to the left behind the fourth treasure cave. And don't you dare steal anything, I swear I will know, and I will get one of Zeel's nephews who doesn't have gout to *eat you whole!*"
Gary sighed and shuffled down the hallway. Backed up sewage always made the women persnickety.
\*\*\*
Two hours later, Gary had fixed the septic tank, fixed a leaky faucet in the guest bathroom, and eaten a very pleasant meal of roasted pumpkin with Zeel and his Princess. It turned out that once the sink was cleared out and she was less stressed, she was actually quite lovely and an excellent cook.
"About my reward?" Gary asked, showing them the poster. The Princess raised an eye brow and exchanged an incomprehensible look with Atazeel. The Dragon shrugged, and half an hour later, Gary and his old donkey were happily heading back home with 10,000 Gold Bars and a magic mirror so that they could call him directly next time any dragon needed a plumber.
\*\*\*
Back at the castle, a nervous messenger brought a letter to the King, directly from Atazeel the Dragon. The letter was written in the hand of his daughter. He ripped the envelope open and read:
>Dear Father,
>
>Thank you for finally sending a plumber. The septic tank was clogged something awful. Gary was really a dear, and worth every one of the 10,000 Gold Bars!
>
>Also, you and Mom are cordially invited to the Dragon Fall Festival where Atazeel and I will formally announce our upcoming wedding!
>
>Love, Your Daughter
The Queen was standing nearby and impatiently grabbed the letter from her husband. "Ha!" She said. "I told you they were just waiting to announce it! Our daughter always did have a flare for the dramatic."
The King and Queen traded wide smiles. Their daughter was finally engaged!
Edit: Spelling | “What’s your name, brave fool?”
“It’s a me, Mario.”
“You ever fought in a battle before?”
“I collected more than a few-a Power Stars back in the day. "
“My daughter, the princess, was kidnapped. I need you to rescue her."
“Do you know where she is?”
“The dragon's lair is down the brick road from here. You’ll see his flag above his fortress. You can fly your own flag above the fortress when the beast is defeated."
“Okie-dokie! Can I get there by Go Kart?”
“I’m afraid not. There will be perilous jumps, vines to climb, and gigantic pipes blocking the way.”
“You don’t build your pipes underground and access them by sewer grate?”
“No."
“You said there was a reward. What will I get in return?” Mario asked.
“Gold.” The king reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. He tossed the coin to Mario.
Mario catches the coin. “Di-Ding!"
“Also, if the princess likes you, she might bake a cake for you.”
“A cake? No lie?”
“It will be dangerous to go alone, take this sword.”
"My brother Luigi is coming with me. We used to take-a turns but now we can go simultaneously.”
“Sounds like the two of you would make for a Super Show!”
“Yes. Also a bad movie in 1993 and an upcoming film by Illumination."
"Are you well equipped to fight through the next world?”
“I’ve got some mushrooms and flowers on me. Also, a raccoon outfit, a talking water gun, a talking star friend, and a talking hat."
“Great! And you can pick some turnips on the way if you get hungry. Watch out for the sun though, the sun is really angry here."
"Hey, before I go, will I have-a time to compete in golf, tennis, basketball, soccer, baseball, a life-sized board game, the olympics, or two-player competitive medicine?"
“What? No! Time will run out if you don’t hurry!"
“Hey, Where did this dragon-a come from anyway?”
“We believe the dragon used to be your friend Yoshi. He got a Smash Ball and used his Final Smash.”
“What? You want me to kill Yoshi? He raised me when I was a Baby Mario on his island. Hundreds of his kind have died assisting me on my journeys. Surely you must be mistaken…?”
“It is most unfortunate but it is true. We’ve got a Twitch Clip suggesting it was him. You can hear his 'hup!' And ‘Hrrhghhhghnhghn’ clear as day.”
"Then I have no choice, I will end Yoshi’s Story! It’s time to get this Mario Party started. Luigi! …. Let’s a go!” | 2019-06-28T10:01:00 | 2019-06-28T09:44:22 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose..... | "And yours?" the divine agent asked me. A weariness in the question betrayed some edge of boredom or frustration in dealing with petty mortals.
"Power negation?" I ventured.
"Taken," I was informed, flatly.
"Power *theft*?"
"Taken."
"Domination, then." I was aware of the purpose of these powers and figured the direct approach could work.
"*Taken*."
By that point, I was as frustrated as the divine. Reflecting on the state of the world to be ruled, I thought about the one thing it perhaps needed most.
"Consequences."
"Excuse me?" the divine asked as if brought out of a stupor.
"I want the power to bring consequences. Divine judgment, if you will."
The glowing wells that passed for the divine's eyes narrowed into bedight points. "Granted. Fortune be with you."
The following days where interesting, to say the least.
I watched as divine strength could mangle a car well before he could throw it, and when his joints gave out, it was gruesome. (I'd find out later that I was only partially responsible.)
Divine speed earned herself some well-deserved friction burns before she collided with an oncoming 18-wheeler. I might feel sorry for her but moreso for the horrified driver.
Divine dominance actually had to *manage* the people he controlled, and it turns out not many people are well suited to management. He quit after twenty or so.
Same with divine presence. Sure, she was popular, the biggest celebrity in an era, but the constant demands for attention drove her into hermitage inside of six months. She's in her mansion living off of the gifts her fans leave at her front gate.
Poor divine flight, shot down for violating sovereign air space.
Divine greed, the guy who nicked Power Theft? Arrested for arson. His home country decided not to execute him in favor of using him to power a hydroelectric plant.
Divine wealth, the multi-quintillionaire? Assassinated, and none too subtly. Turns out the world's economic powers get very edgy around someone who can literally buy whole nations.
Maybe I feel the worst for divine fortitude. Can't be hurt, physically or mentally. But without pain, specifically discontent, he doesn't do much because he's free from want and the drive to change anything. At least his Food Dares YouTube channel has over 2 million subscribers, though the idea of scorpion pepper mukbang makes me flinch.
Oh right, divine denial, the Power Negation guy? We're actually good friends. We were both aiming for ways to stop the other 98 from screwing over the world. Once the threat was over, I turned my influence to the world political stage. I keep Denial in my back pocket to stop me from doing anything heinous, but things have gotten a lot better now that corrupt officials and executives are getting what they deserve. | “My turn!” I yelled, running forward. As I faced the monitor, I scrolled the list of powers already claimed. All of them were, even the one I wanted, but I decided to ask anyway.
“I want the power to fly!” I proclaimed.
🎵 “GRANTED” A musical synthesized voice said.
The crowd jeered and booed, but then the adjudicator stepped forward. “Well, let’s see then.” she said. I grinned, cocky, and ran forward to the front of the stage. Reaching the lip, I leapt into the air, expecting to take flight, but I fell to the ground with a rather comical clack. The crowd roared with laughter.
“You asked for something already received. It can’t be duplicated! You got nothing. Pathetic.” she said, looking down her nose at me. “Pick yourself up, boy!”
“Fuck” I said, starting to move. All the pressure of lifting myself up moved something in my gut, and I couldn’t help but fart.
Before I knew it, I’d flown into the air. I hovered above the crowd, all of whom were pinching their noses and gazing up at me in horror.
Well I guess that’s one way to achieve flight. We thought powers couldn’t be duplicated, but it seems we were wrong. The method of attaining the power couldn’t be duplicated. The first guy, well, the first guy had wings.
I have… powerful lips.
(I’m so sorry) | 2022-11-17T07:41:47 | 2022-11-17T03:54:46 | 772 | 40 |
[WP] A creature that eats emotions met you, and was horrified when it tasted your chronic depression. Today marks its 24th attempt to cure you with seasoning.
Edit: Holy Crap, I was not expecting this kind of response. I'm blown away, y'all. You rock! | The creature first visited me on a long, lonely night, another sleepless, dreadful twilight that I was spending brooding over the pointlessness of my existence.
It crept into my house and swept me up off the couch with ease, gripping me tightly, my face inches away from rows of razor sharp teeth.
'*This is it,*' I thought to myself. '*Finally...*'
But the creature did not bite my head off, or rip me limb from limb; No, its long, cat-like tongue extended from its horrid mouth and scraped across my face -leaving me drenched in its rank saliva.
It let out a foul wail and released me from its grasp. "**Disgusting!**" It bellowed in a disappointing tone.
"Sorry..." I was accustomed to apologizing, I've always had a way of ruining things up for folks.
The creature left me soaked in my living room, and returned the following night for another attempt. Only this time, it had me eat a handful of herbs it pulled from a large pouch. They tasted bland, I never really had much of an appetite for anything.
Again, the creature sampled my flesh with its tongue and again it was repulsed.
And so, this began our nightly routine. The creature would return, feed me herbs and spices, sample the seasoning, and wail in disgust. I began to feel sorry that I continually disappointed the beast, and hoped one day it would find the right mixture of seasoning to end it all.
Nearly a month of the creature's visits, and I'd come to anticipate its arrival. At this point in my life, this monster was the closest thing to a friend I had.
But one night, the creature never arrived. I sat up waiting until the sun finally peaked over the hills, and I accepted the fact that the creature had given up on me -as everyone else in my life already had.
However, to my surprise, the next night the creature returned! Oh, I felt such joy when I witnessed its massive form creep up from behind and into my vision.
"I thought you'd moved on." I said with a faint smile.
The creature examined me intently before speaking. "**Something different tonight...**"
Without reaching into its bag of herbs and spices, the creature stuck out its tongue and sampled my face. I welcomed the warm embrace, like a hug from a friend I hadn't seen in ages, and, this time, the creature didn't withdraw in disgust.
"**Hmmm, not bad!**" The creature nodded its massive head. "**Feeling better?**"
I looked down at the floor, realizing that I was probably about to be eaten. "You came back; You didn't give up on me..."
The creature paused, and I'm not sure, but I think I saw slight pools welling up in its eyes.
It didn't eat me that night, or the next, or the night after that. It doesn't come every night now, but it stops by a few times a week and tastes my flesh. I'm not sure if it plans on eating me, but I know I can count on it being there -and that's enough for me.
/r/BeagleTales | Footsteps echo in an empty street. A cold wind blows through, almost visible as it snakes past closed businesses and grabs at debris.
Moonlight illuminates the person's shadow. It eclipses street lights, casting dark nothingness against the gray mundane of asphalt. They pull out a phone, wince at the screen's brightness, and their facsimile copies them.
They walk faster, phone away. Time is an enemy, one they often clash with, never victorious. Time brings them back to the day, back to sunlight and life, where they vanish into nothingness.
There are two shadows.
One mirrors the person, head down, stepping awkwardly, like it is ashamed to be a shadow.
The other is inhuman, snake-like, writhing and churning along the ground behind them. It appears to be moving much faster, with large and flowing movements. In fact, it almost matches pace.
The procession rounds a corner. Two shadows, one a clone, one a monster.
The change in pace is sufficient. Black sinewy limbs climb up the person's jeans, attacking, subsuming.
They walk on.
A face is visible from above, a head, shadow taking life as it gorges itself on its victim. It hangs on as they continue walking, keeps its grip as they sway gently back and forth. Release only comes when it is filled, satisfied. Then it breaks away, cascading backwards, disappearing into darkness.
For a moment, a minute, a lifetime, it is like nothing ever happened. But slowly a smile, cautious, forms on the person's face. Their shadow stands up a little straighter, steps somewhat more confidently.
Time brings tomorrow, but perhaps tomorrow won't be so bad.
^^^^^r/forricide | 2018-06-15T21:36:27 | 2018-06-15T20:24:47 | 4,139 | 124 |
[WP] You deliver meals to elderly shut-ins. One of your clients is convinced you are Death, and you play along, letting them "outsmart" you every day. Today, however, they're dressed in their Sunday finest, saying, "I'm ready." | "I'm ready."
Two words, so simple. And in saying them, Abe was about to realize something dreadful: I wasn't Death. I can, considering he supposedly had some mild dementia, sort of see why he might think that. I wore a lot of black, for starters. It wasn't for any thematic reason. It was just that food stains happened to show up less, in general, on black. Especially since most of my deliveries involved soup. I was also told to "dress casually, like I'm going about town" by my boss. She personally never said a word about my wardrobe, a myriad of band shirts collected through high school, and it featured its fair share of skulls, skeletons, devils, and so on. In the eyes of most clients, you could see that gleam of disapproval. Abe had laughed, told me Death must've employed his son. He also emphasized I should give everyone hell if they didn't like it. He knew what it was like to be young.
All that made this that much harder. I looked him over, ran my mind through all the little routines. "Alright Abe." I answered, trying to come up with some way out of it. My eyes roved around the room, hesitating over the photos of neon hell. Right, Abe used to hang out in Vegas. He had regaled me with tales of how he cheated the casinos to show the Rat Pack and mob bosses what to look for. Abe was very, very good at cheating at cards, and age hadn't robbed his dexterity. I figured if I had any way out of it, it would be with our game of cards. He was a card shark, he always dealt me a decisively good hand as the dealer. It was almost always something ridiculous and implausible; royal flush, a straight with Ace high. In one hand I even had five Aces. Abe always showed first, "in good faith" and he'd generally have something low, like four twos or the like. I figured it was his way of outsmarting me, to see what I would do. I always cheated back, because Abe was notorious for never specifying his Ace value. I know we both assumed it went both ways, but I'd always come back "Oh, I just have four ones" or "Drat, and so close to a straight, too." He'd give me a hellraiser smile, and invite me back next week.
Back to the motions, Abe was standing. We hadn't even played cards yet.
"Oh no, Abe. There's rules. I can't just take you." I said, making up an excuse. "Always a game, and your game is cards. I win, you come with me. The higher my hand, the more peaceful you'll go. Suit determines how. I'll shuffle this time, but you can still deal."
I watched the old man grin. It was disconcerting. "Alright then laddie." He broke out the well worn cards and handed them over. I shuffled. I shuffled for a long time, and Abe was patient as ever. When I passed them along, he dealt them back. It was fast. Always was. I still couldn't keep up with his fingers when he was dealing, and I tried.
"Alright boy, toss what ya want." He added in. I checked the hand, the whole thing utter garbage. I grimaced, betraying my poker face. Abe must have been ready, so his hand had to be stacked to the heavens.
"Put all five back for me, would you Abe?" I said with a grin, hoping it looked somewhat casual, all knowing. He put them on bottom, of this I was sure. I waited for his hand to move. "Ah, mind if I deal my own, this time, old friend?" That got a laugh out of him, but he let me take hold of the top card. His palm was flat. If he could cheat in that position, I'd be impressed.
I drew my five. Abe flipped his hand, showing up a straight flush in spades, King high. I still hadn't looked at my hand. No bets in money, no reason to bluff. I moved to show my hand, and he stopped me, his fingers on mine quicker than I could have thought he moved, even though I knew better. "Aces high, lad." I swallowed, feeling the panic, and nodded. My hand went over. Hearts. Royal Flush.
My mind raced. How could he have stacked the deck in such a way? Or was it just straight luck. His voice snapped me out of it. It sounded far away, and getting further. "Hah, looks like ya win, Boy-Death. I'll let ya get your things real quick and I'll be waiting right here for you. No walking out the door if I'm asleep now." Abe added. I nodded. I owed Abe the finish to this, whether he knew the truth or not. If he didn't, I'd owe him an explanation too. I got the rest of the affairs in order, tidied up a little bit. I didn't dally, not intentionally, but it did take a good fifteen minutes for me to be ready to go.
I went back to the chair. Abe had his eyes closed. I reached down and gently shook his shoulder. "Abe? We're leaving." Nothing. A few seconds, another light shake. Still nothing. Shaken, but not yet shaking, I reached down, hand over his heart. I waited a full minute, just in case, but Abe's heart had stopped, and he was most assuredly dead. | I knocked at the door of the elderly couple. The suit I wore was uncomfortably warm, and the top hat felt like I was wearing a 5 pound weight on my head. The warm yellow light above and behind me cast a faint, yet perceptible shadow on the door. The white door. A new door, the wood and paint unstained and unsullied by time and humanity. It was a quiet irony built into the building. The old and the new. The final resting place in the human journey. A hundred years ago, the old would have died in the comfort of their own homes. Now they died alone.
At least some of 'em had each other. It was heartwarming watching the old couples. Most of them had a deep love, which couldn't be expressed through words. At the time, I was young. I knew nothing. I watched their interactions, hoping one day that I could also have something like that. Someone who would share the world with me.
The door opened. The kind and wrinkly face of Mrs. Doe revealed itself through the crack of the doorway. I could see the fear and the happiness in her eyes. I don't know why the happiness through. That should have been the first indication. The first clue towards the end.
"Come in, sir." She said, letting me in.
"Thank you very much, Madame Doe." I walked in, continuing charade.
I nearly stopped at the sight which was revealed before me. Mr. Doe was sitting, in a full suit and black tie, impeccably polished shoes, and combed hair. He was sitting at the table. The first time I had seen him sit at the dining table. Ever. I turned around. Mrs. Doe was wearing a pure white dress, which was thoroughly cleaned. I could see that the dress had been scrubbed.
I set the casserole dish on the table and frowned. Mrs. Doe closed and locked the door.
My heart beat a little faster. I looked around the room, and among the comfortable furniture, the signs of the entire room being tidied up were evident.
"Now what's this all about? I assume we are going to continue our little game? You didn't have to dress up for it." I smiled.
The couple shared a glance. Mrs. Doe sat down at the table and pointed at the seat in front of them.
I sat down, the uneasiness in my chest growing.
Mr. Doe took a breath.
"We are... ready. Take us from here. But in return, take us together." He said almost choking in the middle of the sentence.
Mrs. Doe took over. "We have had each other for our entire lives. Don't take that from us at the end." she said.
At this point, I felt that it was best if I came clean.
"Look," I began, drawing a shaky breath, my stomach turning into a pit, "I think that I should come clean. I'm not Death. I've been playing this game with you guys where I pretended to be him. I was bored, so I-"
"We know." Mr. Doe interrupted, "we know everything. So take us. Just make it quick, sir."
"This is getting out of hand. Don't you understand? I've been scamming you this entire time. I'm. Not. Death." I said, gritting my teeth at the end.
The two just smiled at me. I knew then that there was no point in continuing this charade.
All the air left from my lungs. A whisper came from my throat.
"How long?" Mrs. Doe looked up at me as I said it.
"We've known since the second day we met you. We also know that you've given us as much as you could have." she said, the fear in her eyes nearly gone, replaced with gentleness.
I hated this. I hated doing this so much. No, I still hate doing this.
I sighed.
I straigtened up.
"Then close your eyes." I spoke softly, now injecting as much reality, solemnity, and authority into my voice as I could.
The couple smiled at each other one last time, and held hands.
I embraced them both.
| 2017-08-31T17:24:26 | 2017-08-31T16:33:31 | 46 | 18 |
[WP] The last thing you remember is the truck, then nothing but darkness surrounding you. “Welcome to the Afterlife,” the disembodied voice said. “Choose any story you’ve ever read and you will be transmigrated to that world in the peak of health.” | I stared into... nothing really. All it was, was a blank void of blackness, that seemed to host nothing but the voice announcing my death. It was kind of anti-climatic if I was being honest. One moment alive, next here without a transition or anything to get me accustomed to my surroundings. Speaking of which, I wasn't listening to the voice because I was panicking.
&#x200B;
"Can you repeat that please?" I shouted out.
&#x200B;
“Welcome to the Afterlife, Choose any story you’ve ever read and you will be transmigrated to that world in the peak of health.” The disembodied voice said, with a hint of a sigh preceding it. However, that wasn't the main problem I was facing.
&#x200B;
"Uh, does it have to be any story I *read*?" I said, slightly worried.
&#x200B;
"Yes." The booming voice responded.
&#x200B;
"I'm illiterate."
&#x200B;
Silence.
&#x200B;
"What." The voice replied, with a very large emphasis on 'You've got to be kidding me'.
&#x200B;
"Blame my countries budget." I defended quickly before any accusations were thrown, "I just worked my whole life, and died... wait, how did I die?"
&#x200B;
"Heart Attack."
&#x200B;
"Knew I should've laid off those chips, oh well, hindsight is 20/20. What now?"
&#x200B;
"Are you certain you didn't read anything at all?"
&#x200B;
"Yeah, what do we do now? Do I get resurrected? Do I get passed off to another god? What now?"
&#x200B;
"I well... I know!" Suddenly, a small book appeared out of thin air or whatever I was breathing, and landed in front of me, "There, a story, a rather good one at that."
&#x200B;
I just stood there and stared back up into the empty space above me.
&#x200B;
"I can't read."
&#x200B;
This time, a very audible sigh pierced the air. A couple seconds past, then the book vanished. Immediately after that, a small wooden chair appeared a few feet away from me, coupled with a desk topped with books, pencils and papers of all kinds. In front of these items was a chalkboard already being utilised by a floated chalk.
&#x200B;
"Sit down." The voice demanded with a grumble, "English class is in session." | “Wait a second, so what was my life, then?”
“Why, my child, your life was one of these stories as well. In universe 876B42C a one Melissa Brown wrote the story of your life as a fan fiction for a popular young adult romance series. In fact, you were Melissa’s brother, and you thought my gift was a joke the first time. You had made fun of the manuscript slightly before your untimely passing. Yet now, my child, you have a second opportunity. You can even take your time now; I have writing supplies, you can write your own future, your own perfect vision.”
I took what I imagined was months of ethereal time, carefully hand crafting my future, writing the elaborate details of my future wife, children, even my future high school fling that would help me lose my virginity and more.
I finished the tome and regarded what I assumed was God carefully.
I wished to join my story, and the nothing and everything smiled, and with sweet honey dripping from their voice, wished me well on my travels.
I appeared in the story as a side character nerd I bullied in middle school. A bigger, meaner kid smacked my school lunch tray on the ground and walked away, laughing with his friends.
I picked up the bits that looked okay and ate my meal alone. | 2022-08-20T03:24:58 | 2022-08-19T21:17:38 | 67 | 22 |
[WP] Due to a typo, your less-than- common first name got put into the new edition of the Necronomicon. Suddenly, you're being called on to get revenge on people's enemies. That's fine with you, though. You work for the IRS. | I just left the office after a grueling day of paperwork. I pinch the bridge of my nose and step out into the parking lot, letting the crisp night air hug me.
Being a low level grunt does not have its perks. I went to school to be a math teacher, somehow I ended up here with the worst kind of people. People who look at income taxes and if they're in shitty moods, the paperwork goes 'poof'. Today, that kind of attitude rubbed off on me.
This person, called in and wanted to know the status of his refund check and being the cheerful person I am, I offered to check on that. Unfortunately, he wasn't receiving a check and instead owed several hundred dollars. I got an ear full before I rudely told him, "I'm sorry, Dwight, looks like you'll just have to deal with it. There isn't anything I can do. Have a nice day!"
After finding my 2016 Honda Civic, I unlock the door and fall, literally fall into my seat and close the door. Leaning back I close my eyes and silently cuss everyone in that building to hell and back then to hell again.
"Oh your day isn't over yet, Sweet cheeks."
My eyes pop out of my head hearing a sarcastic baritone voice coming from my vehicle. I look to my passenger seat and sitting there is this crazy little critter with wings. WINGS!? I know I should be freaking out because a flying people eater, I'm assuming, is chatting me up and calling me pet names but I can't muster the energy. "Who are you?"
"Never mind, who I am. You have a job to do." His beady eyes seem to expand to the size of saucers and he stands up, showing just how tiny he actually is. No bigger than a toddler.
"A job?"
"Mhm, Ms. Sacandra. You'll be known as revenge O'rella."
I blink and gawk at the little critter before squeezing my eyes shut. That isn't even my name! Working for the IRS is bad enough but this is blasphemy from another world! | (On mobile so sorry for bad formatting and length)
Well, that was an interesting debacle. More often than not, when my phone rings it's some jackass committing tax fraud. Never did I expect to be called upon as one of the elder gods to ruin the life of one Jim Banks. That was fine though. Bing bang boom, looking through some records, let's peg this guy with enough back taxes to make him take out 3 mortgages. Soon, I started to ruin people's lives as a side job. I gained a reputation for always getting a reliable job done with revenge, and all it took was some exploitation of the American Tax System | 2020-10-15T18:08:44 | 2020-10-15T17:47:36 | 53 | 10 |
[WP] There's a law when you divorce, the children from the undone marriage get killed
So only children from lasting marriages remain. | I tried to cry quietly, but he still woke up.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"We need to break up," I said through my tears. I couldn't have picked a worse time to say it, but I couldn't have picked a better time either, so fuck it. Fuck everything.
I'd never get to fuck him again. Knowing that was one of the thousand things that hurt.
"Why?" he asked.
The tremble in his voice was one of the other thousand things that hurt.
I scrubbed the tears from my face with the back of my hand. Crying would only make things worse. "Because I want to have children."
"So do I," he said. There were tears in his eyes, now. "I want them with you someday. I thought you knew that."
"I do," I said. "I know. And I want children with you. I want it so much that I can't think of any reason why it'd be a bad idea."
He rubbed the side of his face, and that was one of a thousand things I'd miss about him. "So stay with me. Marry me. We'll make it work, I know we will."
"So do I," I said. "And that's the whole problem. No one ever knows things like that so blindly unless they're in love, and love is dangerous."
Boogerface Charlie in kindergarten, who just didn't show up one day, or ever again. Ella and Emma from third grade, whom I'd never learned to tell apart. Derek who pushed me around all through sophomore year, and I'd been halfway through writing a thank-you note to his parents for divorcing until I crumpled up the paper and threw it away. The quiet boy from my Economics 101 class, who never talked to anyone.
Melissa from the coffee shop, who wouldn't let me kiss her.
*If we kiss, we'll have a few more dates. If we have a few more dates, we'll fall in love. I can't do that to you.*
When I asked her why, she said that her parents weren't in love anymore. She was right. She was dead less than a year later.
You could maybe build a partnership with someone, over time. You could maybe find something stable, that would last all your life. You could always fall out of love.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I have to marry for the children. I can't marry for love." | My name is David, David Halligan. You might know me from H&H Attorney at law. We typically run late night infomercials on sleezy networks that convince people to get a divorce. I'm the good-looking, charming guy that smiles into the camera and give a little wink, yea...
I'm a divorce chaser. What that means is I convince people to get divorces anyway possible. I got several guys who work as private investigators and let's just say they don't always tell the truth. I cut them in at 25%. Other times I convince people who are a little sick in the head. Maybe they want to see someone die, or maybe they wanted to do it themselves, I don't know. It doesn't matter to me, I'm just a lawyer.
I have a very expensive mahogany desk in my office. It was imported from France. It has notches in it and in each notch represents a kid whose execution was the direct result of my law firm. The last count was 546. I'm very good at my job as you can tell...
| 2014-06-15T04:16:52 | 2014-06-15T03:57:43 | 22 | 10 |
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