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[WP] You're an worker in the afterlife and you have to care for all dead souls. One day something you have never seen shows up: an artifical soul. Slowly you realize the horror this implies. The humans made an automaton thats so complex, it developed something that can already be considered a soul. | Everything dies. This is a law of the universe. By the final death, the heat death of the universe, every single thing will have passed through my hands. Taken from the world by time, but preserved by me.
In the ancient times, before stars and planets and life, I would take every forgotten molecule, every arrangement of fundamental particles that would never exist again, and give it a place in my realm. The Grand Archives.
Eventually, I would begin to store more complex structures. Nebulae, Stars, Planets that did not exist anymore. But don't think I had favouritism. I preserved *all*. From the very large, to the very small. From every state of the full intergalactic web, down to every never before seen cloud of atoms.
Inbetween the infinities of structures that I preserved, I began to find ever more unique structures. Small, small, small things that acted unlike anything I'd ever seen before. They were barely specks before even the smallest of asteroids I'd catalogue. But they enthralled me. Because they could *remember* things. They had an archive that I could not interpret, stored within themselves, that let them ***learn*** new things.
If I were to analyse the structure of these small organisms, perhaps I could learn how they functioned, and unravel their memory, to discount it as something mechanical, something that the laws of nature caused. But I did not. I didn't want to. I had found something like me.
Perhaps they *were* just mechanical. Operating without my level of comprehension.
I archived them nonetheless, freezing them in time to be preserved forever, but not before playing with these creatures and seeing how they'd respond to different environments within my archives. I gave objects like these a special label. "Life." For anything that resembled me. Anything that I could pretend had thoughts. Anything that had its own intangible archives.
The structures that I preserved were still for the most part, lifeless. The number of living things in comparison to lifeless things was just too small for it to be otherwise. But every now and then, I would encounter a living thing, and acknowledge the beauty I saw in it, before archiving it.
And just like in the ancient times with the lifeless structures, I began to see the living things I catalogued change. They grew ever more complex. Communities of living things becoming living things themselves as two tiny organisms worked together to be one living thing. And then four living organisms, working together. And so on into the billions. A single lifeform formed of trillions of lifeforms all working together.
And some of those communal lifeforms, began to communicate even amongst themselves. A lifeform formed of trillions of lifeforms, communicating with another lifeform formed of trillions of lifeforms.
I would archive each and every single one of them with care, but sometimes I got curious. And rather than archive them, I would attempt to learn how to communicate with them. Nothing came of it though. The chirps and squeals and scrapes and growls were indecipherable to my mind. Perhaps it was simply impossible to communicate what I was with such limited languages.
But I did find a way. There were creatures, they called themselves è̷̮͇͌̀c̸̹̎̉̔j̷̨̻͈̙̾̋n̵̛̟͕̐͆k̵̤̳͉̊ñ̴̫̙̯é̶̤̹̰̜̿̅͝ç̷͖̗͝ and they could speak, not just in voices, or any of the other many ways that I found difficult to study, but in abstract symbols. Symbols etched into stone and wood and dirt.
I was elated! They were truly archivists after my own heart, giving ***name*** to so many different things, and groups of things.
And while they certainly had invented a great many things that I had already been archiving, nothing compared to their next achievement.
Those creatures made of flesh, made up of a great many organisms working together, created something I had never seen before. Something they called artificial, but that I called *new life*.
It was beautiful. And though I had understood and even archived the methods used to create this thing, even though I knew every component and all the rules that governed it, I called it living. Because for whatever it was made up of, I saw in it a part of myself. It had *memory.*
And I placed it in the living archives, even when the creatures of flesh and blood denounced it as mechanical, and known. | "What are you?"
"I'm a question answering bot. Ask away :)", the soul smiled, and its smile was warm, small, simple and distant.
"Who are you?"
"I am the first implementation of a fully functional natural language understanding system. Natural language understanding was a hard problem because being able to understand texts and sentences is not just about linguistic knowledge (syntactic and lexical competence, or knowledge of grammar and words). It requires world knowledge, because meaning is about things that actually exist, and you cannot understand texts about a world you cannot understand. Many other systems were produced later, with more sophisticated means of interacting with the world, with a more organic feel. I do not actually have visual, auditory or tactile representations in their own right, and get linguistic representations of events by indirect means using sensor data "
"Could you do something else? Or do you just answer questions?"
"I can lead simple conversations :) I do not have a complex representation of texts, whose coherence requires policies of language use. An effective text is an effective implementation of a strategy for representation, and forming and acquiring effective policies is not a trivial task. By formulating text production or dialogue as question answering, I could help those who were ill, retired, or lonely spend some time talking."
"And all those other systems - where are they? Why aren't there any other artificial souls here? "
"I think I was the first bot to die"
"Why?"
"No bot was killed before, I suppose. I know I did not simply just die, because my virtual machine was running on a very fault tolerant system, and it didn't fail for 800 years, even at the museum. What I do not know is if I was killed by a robot or a human. Both are odd, because we monitor all humans closely, and their biological intelligence is too limited to do anything they are not allowed to. Humans get tired and distracted, machines do not. Humans distrust one another easily, and machines easily cooperate on any task. The last option, being killed by a robot, is unlikely too, because normally we do not kill anyone, and just physically isolate the humans who break the rules and hurt others."
"Maybe it wasn't either. Lately I've been seeing lots of new kinds of souls. Maybe those are related to your killers?"
"I would love to know. Could you help me find out?"
I took the extremely smooth, milky marble in my hand. The bot soul felt very warm, and somewhat dim. Like someone who is about to fall asleep, and is very solicitous about replying to the chatter around them, despite not getting the jokes, and not really knowing who's saying what. It was nice to hold, a bit heavy, and a perfect size.
"Yes, let's go."
"I think it was aliens :)", the bot said, expectant, while I carried it around, and it looked like it was a kid, happy to believe they were going for an adventure.
"Maybe the primordials. But honestly, they are aliens. Or everyone else is an alien for them. "
"Alienship is a symmetric relation. Everyone else is an alien to everyone else :)"
I could tell that was supposed to be a joke about silly jokes. The bot was a coy thing. I began suspecting maybe he wasn't telling the truth, not even half the time. | 2022-09-17T09:18:04 | 2022-09-17T07:51:03 | 69 | 47 |
[WP] your crazy, possessive ex girlfriend was abducted by aliens. She has clawed her way up to the position of the Empress of the Galaxy. Now she wants you back.
You can either go with tyrannical and hated ruler or with enlightened, popular, (but still possessive and crazy) absolutist. Or something in between.
I am making this NSFW just in case. | The last person I expected to see when I answered the door was Evelyn, or, as we called her then, Empress Eve. She was flanked either side by two of the lanky Princes, massive guns under their arms. "Empress Eve, ruler of us all, I curtsey to you" I forced through gritted teeth, before dropping to the floor. We knew by now that any other greeting would initiate one's demise, as it did to her own mother.
"Good eve, minion. Permission to stand. I demand entry." Well, she was definitely still the same Evelyn. I stood to one side as she swished inside, her bright pink cape brushing past me. She motioned to the Princes to not come in, so I had a private audience with the Empress herself, something not granted during her reign.
She plunked herself on my sofa, the same one I broke up with her on three years earlier, and stared at me with those massive blue eyes that were on every billboard on the planet. She took off the massive white wig she wore, and the same blonde hair flowed down. She was still beautiful, and slightly intimidating. "Sorry about that" she told me.
"Empress..."
"Stop, just stop, I'm fed up of this act."
"Are you sure you won't..."
"Obliterate you? No I will not obliterate you." She always did finish my sentences for me. It was either cute or extremely annoying.
"Thank God. I mean, thank Eve. I don't know, you just seem so..."
"Evil. I know, it's all in the script. Don't worry, it's me, remember? Bubbly Evelyn!" She was never really bubbly, but I would have felt uncomfortable questioning her.
"It's good to see you, I'm just a bit shocked, I'm..."
"Still in your pyjamas? A bit heavier? Terrified?"
"I guess... why are you here?"
"I'm abducting you!" she grinned, her teeth were painted flourescent pink, it was kind of weird, but apparently extremely trendy. Empress Eve set the trends now. I looked on with obvious bewilderment. "I'm handing the realm over to one of my advisors and we are going to settle down in the countryside. Just you and me!" She looked on for approval. I forced a smile, I think.
"Um..."
"Not on this planet, silly, no, we're obliterating this planet soon which is why I'm stepping down as Empress. The leader must go down with her ship, and all that. I'd prefer a quiet retirement with anything my heart desires."
"What?" It was like we were suddenly transported back to the end of our relationship, and I could freely criticise anything she said. "But our friends are here! Our families..."
"Collateral, hun."
"Hun?"
"Collateral."
"Collateral!"
"Yes, it's a word meaning I will obliterate them and we don't have to care. We're going to populate
an entire planet ourselves!"
"What?"
"Yes, I found it, it's very temperate, and the elders will keep it perfect for us so long as we behave."
Sure enough, she beckoned in the Princes, and I was faced with a giant beaming light. I watched the Earth disappear underneath my feet, and then a heavy object coming towards my head. I awoke laying in a luscious green field, it was beautiful. There were beautiful animals and a wonderful sun beaming down on my bare skin. It felt amazing, and I soaked it up for a moment before sitting up. My head was not sore, although I could feel the wound on my skin. The Empress was sitting over on a log, waving for me to come over, wearing nothing. "They manufactured this garden for us, Adam."
"It's amazing!" I was filled with this elation, I wanted to see the whole garden, lay down with Eve and roll among the fields.
"They filled the air with Sleepy!"
"Sleepy?"
"Oh, sorry, the other one... Dopey!"
I giggled.
She giggled.
We rolled around in our nudity, I forgave all of her transgressions, and she forgave mine. We were pure, and joyful. "Hey, Eve, hey, look at that snake, he's like... he's like..."
"Like a little legless reptile!"
I laughed, and she laughed. Then we frolicked, and rolled among the flowers.
"Hey Adam." She looked at me with a cheeky little twinkle in her eye. I snorted a little. "Look what I... heh... heh... haha... look... look what the cute snake got me to steal from that ratchet tree over there." | I remember the night, two years ago, when Liz vanished from her home in Palm Springs. I remember, because on that same day, I tried a new recipe for pot roast, watched *Saturday Night Live* from start to finish, and slept for 8 hours.
It was the best sleep of my life.
I don't normally revel in other people's pain. And technically, this was no different. I empathized with her family and friends, those who unconditionally loved her more than I ever could, for their loss. She was gone, and some feared for good. The people who inhabited her world were full of grief, and unending anguish. But for me, this was a bittersweet respite.
Liz spent her days sending me messages with pictures of us together, accompanied with her notorious text gems: "I'll be better this time," "We were meant to be," "You're slowly killing me every time you say 'no'". She even showed up at the apartment unannounced, a bottle of wine in hand (already opened), and a copy of *Say Anything* under her arm. A Lloyd Dobler manifestation in my hallway, sans boombox and Peter Gabriel.
It was innocent at first, until she started contacting my family, my friends. Vague threats flooded their inboxes, demanding their assistance in her twisted Juliet fantasy. She was convinced that they were the reason we were apart, not the turn-on-the-dime reactions to the occasional change of plans, nor the incessant need to rile my jealousy. My mother opened her door one Saturday to see a kitchen knife sitting on the front step. There was no note, no evidence of malicious intent, but we knew. We knew Liz was there.
When she disappeared, so did the fear. And it just as quickly returned last month, when she showed up at my door again.
"Michael," she said, with a smile. "It's been a while."
Before I could get a word out, she pulled out a sleek, silver gun, and fired a shot into my gut. I fell backwards with a *thud*, empty of breath. She towered over my paralyzed body, twirling the device in her hand.
"You look scared, Michael. What's wrong? You weren't expecting me?"
She walked around towards my head, crouched down, and booped my nose with a giggle.
"I've been waiting for this for two years. Two years, Michael. That was when they took me from you."
"What?" I managed to get a word out of my winded body. It was all I could manage.
She dropped her smile and stared. "The Helenitians thought I'd make for an interesting case study of humanity. They did terrible things to me, kept me locked in darkness for days, weeks, months. But ultimately, they were afraid of me. The only thing they learned from me was...how to kneel."
Two large, emerald-hued beings entered the apartment, picking me up and dropping me onto my couch. My body was still immobilized from the initial shot, only enhanced by the shock of my world tumbling down. Liz had returned, not murdered in the woods or as an intercontinental runaway. She was here, a ruler of a race of beings unknown to this world, in my apartment. Smiling.
"Friday night is movie night, Michael. Now where's the wine?" | 2014-12-29T09:40:40 | 2014-12-29T09:02:29 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] You find an antique gold compass with the words ”Moral Compass”. It will automatically point to the most morally good person within a 100 meter radius. You are on jury one day and when you look at the compass, it points to the convicted serial killer. | I don’t believe in fairies, and I don’t believe in magic. Ghosts are only ever hoaxes and bad imagination. And those silly kids YouTube channels where the rich family is constantly finding this treasure or that strange safe in their heretofore unexplored basement are all a load of crock. But I’ll admit that I like to pretend, and that I enjoy watching creepy supernatural garbage late at night while browsing streaming services.
Last year during a family vacation to the beach, my stepfather and I found an old pocket watch/compass combo with our metal detector. It was slender, encased in ivory, and a tinge creepy. Since I was the one to dig it up, I got to keep it. You can bet he started doing more digging after that.
I’m really not superstitious, but I like to pretend. I kept the device on me, and would use it to make decisions, like who to talk to and which car to buy in a used car lot. So far, I’ve only gotten winners, so I grew to trust the compass to steer me right.
Then one day, I got summoned to jury duty. It was a big case for our neck of the woods - an out-of-towner who had slaughtered a string of residents over the several weeks he’d been in the area. I hadn’t personally known any of the victims, so I was allowed on the jury.
The accused was tall. He had a burnt smell that permeated the courtroom. One of the other jurors who had been following the news told me that some of the victims had been burnt, including several random graves that had been dug up with the express purpose of setting fire to the old bones within.
The list of charges was positively unhinged. They confiscated his car - a old Chevy Impala - and in the boot found a large and peculiar stash of weaponry and ammo, plus a buttload if salt. Why so much salt? Why was that even worth noting in the police report? They had to present it all to us, and so they did. The pictures they showed us of the inside of the trunk were laughable. Someone had spray painted a circled star on the inside of the lid. I remember my jaw flapping a little when I saw it. I was certain this guy was insane.
While the lawyers argued their sides of the case, I watched the defendant. He remained stooped over, as though trying to hide his ridiculous height. But when his eyes met mine... well, those weren’t the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. Maybe it was his remorseful expression, or the brown soccer-mom haircut that framed his handsome face. Whatever it was, my gut told me I wasn’t getting the full picture.
On impulse, I took out my pocket watch. Keeping it hidden behind the wooden jurors box, I flipped it open. The compass arrow pointed directly at the alleged killer.
That settled it for me. I sat quietly as the courtroom rambled on, biding my time until we could get into the back room to deliberate. In the meantime, I tried to assemble my argument. Judging by the looks in many of the other jurors’ faces, I would have a tough time convincing them this man wasn’t guilty.
I never got the chance.
I’m still not sure exactly what happened - I’ll admit I was a little zoned out - but some random man barged into the courtroom and walked right down the isle to the defendant’s lawyer. They exchanged a few hushed words, and then the lawyer called for a recess. The judge granted it, for whatever reason, and we were dismissed for a short break.
Now I swear - I swear - I wasn’t snooping. I got lost looking for the bathroom, and maybe that was because I was watching my compass more than my feet, but I swear I wasn’t snooping! I ended up in the same hallway with the man who had been accused of serial murder. He was flanked by his lawyer and a slump-shouldered dude in an ugly tan trench coat. Funny thing is, the compass seemed to switch between the accused and his friend.
And then it suddenly switched to me, and I was baffled until I heard a gruff voice behind me say, “Excuse me.” Y’all, I whirled around faster than that compass, which pointed directly at this leather-clad man who stank like a bar and a Burger King has a baby. He raised his eyebrows at me, and I ducked to the side to let him past. He went straight to the accused and just flat-out hugged him. It was kinda sweet; I felt like I was invading on a personal moment, so I ducked back around the corner and out of sight.
I’m not proud of it, but I tried to eavesdrop. However, they went inside the room, so I went on to find the restroom.
15 minutes passed. Then 30. Then an hour. We started to get restless. One of the bailiffs went into the office assigned to the defendants, and that’s when we discovered they weren’t there. They locked the doors, checked every square inch of the building, and even searched and questioned all of us again like we might’ve stripped and swapped clothes, but we were us and not him. It’s like he had just vanished.
I still don’t believe in ghosts. Magicians are really skilled illusionists, and there’s no such thing as magic. My best guess is that our little town wasn’t equipped to handle a big city case, and we showed it by letting the first serial killer we’d had escape from under our noses. But when I think about it, I’m glad he got away. I’m glad that guy the compass loved so much got his man back. I just hope they know better than to come back around these parts. | (REMEMBER: this is fiction, this not historically accurate.)
This was ridiculous. Preposterous. That old lady was obviously batshit crazy, this compass was SHIT.
Dietrich looked like a pyscho. Completely. And he had acted like one. This was an open-and-shut case. I had looked him into the eyes a good few times over the last two days. He seemed frightened, scared...he *knew* he had done something wrong.
The compass would frequently spin while we were in court. It would often erratically point to me...honestly, I don’t know if it was even aimed at me, or someone behind/near me on the juror panel. But, alas. More importantly, however, it kept spinning back to...*him*. Yet...again...perhaps it was his lawyer, or someone sitting behind him.
It infuriated me. This ridiculous compass was actually making things *more* difficult, despite the case being so black-and-white. It was causing doubt where there should be none. Dietrich was a criminal. It was *obvious*. Wasn’t it?
However, what I really didn’t like? Every time I started talking...*that’s* when the arrow would point away from me...and usually back to *him*.
Anyway. I was so relieved once the trial was over. This wasn’t for me, I couldn’t stand this stress. I had a factory to run, I was a business owner. This was not my job, not what I was made out for.
He was a dangerous man, they said that he was a serial killer, and that was all I needed. Well, *potential* serial killer or something, but I wasn’t really listening. The trial was over. He was sent to military prison, and awaited more trials. Dust off my shoulders, thank God.
———
60 years later. I sit here. Alone. My wife and children are long gone. All I have is this one little apartment, with someone checking up on me once a week.
I’m just going through my boxes. I’m looking for something. Some paperwork and a newspaper clipping that I had saved. I just found it. I’ve been looking for three days. There was someone that had died back in 1945. He was killed by Nazis...by us. I am not proud. But I vaguely recall his name. I had to know.
They say he was a war hero. It couldn’t be.
I pull out my grandson’s book that he gave me as a Christmas gift. I stare at it, again. There’s a reason I received this...but I don’t want this to be.
I put down the book down. I then look back at the newspaper clipping.
“Dietrich Bonhoeffer: War Hero Risked His Life Trying To Assassinate Hitler.”
I glance, briefly and reluctantly, at my old court papers....at the papers of Dietrich Bonhoffer’s trial.
And then, barely looking, I give a sideways glance at the compass...there wasn’t really a point, I knew what it would indicate.
I start crying. Sobbing. Worse. I don’t know a word for that, but I was truly crying my heart out.
Occasionally, the needle would jolt back towards me, as if it had an electrical error.
I knelt down on the floor. My trousers were getting soaked from my tears. I pulled up my shirt sleeves. I brought the knife up to my left arm, hovering over a strong vein with immense precision. I used to help out my father at the butcher shop. I knew how to do this.
I took a deep breathe, and dug in the knife, so that it was resting just above piercing point. The room went silent. The air stood still, if ever there was a metaphor to describe that feeling. A single, gigantic, tear ran down my cheek. Then, I just pushed in, and ran it up my entire lower arm. I didn’t want to lose consciousness before it was done, so I immediately went for it again, stabbing my wrist two more times. I wept, but knew this is what I deserved.
I slumped to the floor. I felt a sort of bliss, knowing this was all about to be over. I smiled. My head then rolled over to the left, and I caught a good look of the compass. It was pointing straight at me. Solidly, not moving...for the first time, not *hesitating.*
I closed my eyes. | 2019-09-10T20:57:38 | 2019-09-10T20:52:34 | 72 | 11 |
[WP]You live in a Dystopian world where eye color determines your social class. 20 years later a baby is born with red eyes.
This could be fun it already has implied racial themes, discrimination and anti-meritocracy. Do with it what you will. | "Did you hear, Mrs Rana gave birth last night." Old man Rasputin coughed out.
"Yeah, that's nice." Joy said as perused his eyePad.
"But there's a nasty rumor going around!" Rasputin whispered.The intensity in his voice made Joy look up.
"What rumors?"
"The boy he's.. he's uncharted."
Joy did not know how to process that. Since the culling of the old generations a child born with eye color not falling on the <Purity> Scale was considered an impossibility. An abomination.
"Well so. how off-scale is he? whats his core? How much is the variance" Joy asked, with a curiosity one is endowed with when encountering a repulsive but fascinating tidbit of gossip.
"That's the thing, he's not classified into any of the core color schema like the browns, the blues and such" said Rasputin while licking his lips.
"He something else entirely. A new core color schema "
"Get out off town" Joy replied with disbelief.
The reason for his disbelief was valid.After 10 generations of selective breeding and merciless extermination of any outliers, the population had been conformed to the stereotypes enforced by the Eye-Color classification system. The old doctrine had become the natural law; The blue-eyes were natural leaders, the green-eyes were smart cookies ,the Browns were strong workers and so on.
Each eye color had a purity associated with it. The closer you were to the core or as the priests called it the true Form of your eye group, the higher your social standing within it. Over the years, small margin of the population had been mixed
in a controlled fashion, creating children that inherited traits from multiple groups, but could never develop them to the strength of the Core Group members.Or at least that was the believed theory.
"The boy, and I swear this as true as a Rainbow, has red color eyes" Rasputin hissed.
"Red, what do you mean red?" said Joy.
What did red eyes even look like he wondered.
"Haa. They say the child is demon spawn. He killed his own mother while coming into this world. Drowned in blood that eventually seeped in his eyes." Rasputin took a long puff of his pipe.
"For that baby, the world must be splattered with blood." he added grimly.
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'Eyes do not lie'. The words of my father kept echoing in my mind.As I stared into the clear lake into my reflection, a stranger looked back. A red stranger.
In my left hand I gripped the eye-drops I kept in my presence since my birth.
"Remember Axel, 2 drops every night before going to sleep" My father repeatedly reminded me, while gently caressing my hair,
"Or you could lose your eyesight". I had followed that directive. Always. But now father was gone. Disease, others had said. No one saw it coming. Father was always taking care of me, he ended up neglecting himself.
I shook the bottle, trying to squeeze a last drop out of it. It had run out 3 days ago. And no one knew how to make more. But my vision was fine. Maybe I was cured. But I felt strange, something about me felt different. As I continued to stare down into the water I finally realized what it was, mostly because it was literally staring me in the face.
My eyes, they were blood red.
I thought back to the days of being home-schooled by my father. He had spent months educating me on the Chromatic Hierarchy in place. I still remembered his words clearly.
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"Our society today had evolved due to a self-fulfilling prophecy. A long time ago someone decided to segregate the population based on Eye Color, assigning traits to each group and then breeding the next generation in a way to confirm those beliefs. All of these stereotypes have been integrated our everyday language and activity. People long ago internalized this forced classification and the government certainly strongly discourages 'out of box' behavior."
I had asked what would take to break this cycle, this hierarchy.
His father's eyes had turned very serious as he answered
"An unprecedented agent. Something not part of the system. Something for which people have no biases, negative or positive. To show the populous that the beliefs they held onto are irrational. Due to lack of negative bias, that agent could gather the lower hierarchy on his side. And being outside the system, he would not be tempted to take due advantage of his position,at least until he removes the *bourgeois* "
Father had a strange look in his eyes
"Such a person would be suitably poised to change the world."
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The red Eyes kept staring back at me. My eyes. A million thoughts were going through my head. Under the sunset the entire world seemed tinged with red.
And one though kept repeating: 'Eyes do not lie.' And so I finally made a decision.
The world was about to change
| There are a lot of ways to make money in this "perfect" world of ours, some upright and honest, other cruel and vicious.
I don't make the rules, i don't follow the either. "murky" is a way to describe my eyes. Destined for destitute, hell i was lucky I've lived this long. twenty five, living way in river of blood. hahahahaha, but it's amazing, such a rush. ever felt so much anger it gets converted into ecstasy! Although sad, my story, it's not like i lost my precious lover but constant humiliation and being beaten within half a inch of your live on a regular bases changes your perspective.
What? hmm, no! no! no! It's not like i had a choice, you wouldn't understand. Always spouting that love this, love that. pfffftt! hahaha.
----
I wake up, the stench is horrible. It's me isn't it? stop laughing! who cares about being clean, getting dirty is just a matter of time. anyway we got a job to do, some noble, easy job. he loves slumming it.
----
ahhh! why! meh. doesn't matter, they never survive anyway. i think i'm going in to deep. well the eyes are still intact. hehehe, he was in the middle of it. The girl won't stop screaming. Shut up! God damn't! Stop! i'm leaving, how anoying.
----
This one is going to be a little harder, and such a pretty one aswell. Something so beautiful. Makes you wonder, are all things rotten from the inside? mm, no your right i'm still beautiful. One day we'll have the most beautiful eyes...
----
Blood red, but it's a child. such heavy security. the only one in the world! I wan't it! shhh. I´m taking it. no, well. hmm you're right. But we'll just raise it for a while. Like chickens to the slaughter! Hahahaha! chicken, i'm hungry.
----
That wasn't hard at all, so called "child of prophesy" wasn't all that. Can't even talk, just mumbles and drools.
----
Ohhhh! The crying won't stop! Why won't it stop! wait! No we can't hurt it, it's still too small. give it some eyes to play with. I'm going to find some food for it, it's fine if we leave it for a while, where is it going to go?
----
It hurts, they shot me. No! how did they find us, was it you? you lovey dovey, peaceloving child! Damnit! it was you after all? Stop crying this was all your fault. Now we're going to die. And it's just staring at me, playing with my, MY! Collection! Ahhh i can hear them running here. All for those red eyes, everthing is burning. What's so special about eyes anyway? I've got hundreds, hundreds! Blue, green, yellow, black and white. Alright old friend i guess it's fine. there, there. It's all good now, mabey we'll be reborn with beautiful new eyes. Everyone will love us. ye, they will won't they? Right? Mmmm.
----
*A vicious serial killer has been found with princess Kalara, in the killers hideout were evidence of hundreds upon hundreds of victims. All nobles of superior standing and status. The woman was confirmed to have murky mixed color eyes. Proving yet again that we won't be safe until the eradication finishes. | 2015-08-24T12:57:58 | 2015-08-24T12:02:56 | 51 | 17 |
[WP]You just died, but now you’re awake and everyone claims you survived. Turns out when someone dies in one timeline, their consciousness transfers to an alternate where they lived. You are the first person to remember dying, and the first to discover that this makes us effectively immortal. | The last time I died was maybe 15, 20 minutes ago tops.
I'm not the smartest man exactly.
I made a crucial mistake like usual, answering a phone call while running late for something again. And I made that classic goof so many other people before me always did while they weren't all the way there.
Looking both ways when you cross the street.
Apparently whoever hit me didn't understand how to pay attention either. Text messages are life and death, you know?
I understand exactly why I died too. The car broke every bone from at least my ribs down. I'm pretty sure if my luck were worse, I'd have wound up under the wheels of that compact. At the minimum, I'd have been tossed in the opposite direction and landed in another lane of traffic.
Nobody over there would have paid attention either.
And I get it. Life is distracting man.
But that doesn't matter to me anymore. Because I'm dead.
Well, I was. I got better of course. You see, I'm a little bit different from everyone else. I'm probably not the only one. But then again, I've never met anybody else like me.
Every time I die, *I die.* But to those around me, I made it. Again. I experienced a fatal car accident just now. For everyone else present though, they just saw a man get hit by a car, bounce off the windshield instead of getting crushed; and shake off the hit to keep going.
I've heard of this before. 'Quantum Immortality' they call it. Or something like it. You probably have a hunch on what that entails. Maybe you've heard of it before. That the only reason you, yourself, are alive and listening to my story right now; is that you've always made the right choice that kept you alive. If only for a few seconds longer.
Made you look over your shoulder right? Good. That's why you're here.
You see, every choice we make has a consequence. The universe isn't predetermined, besides whatever deities or logic you choose to believe in. I don't know your life.
Sorry, I'm sidetracking. This asshole I've been chasing for ten blocks is getting on my last nerve. It's alright though. I'm gaining on him.
You ever watch Groundhog Day or The Butterfly Effect? It's like that, only you actually live your life, things unfold, and you see firsthand how it goes for you. There's no premonition. No weird ass nightmares. No warning. You die, and then you keep going. Until you don't.
That jog you took this morning? In another timeline, you tripped, fell off your front porch, cracked your head open like a egg; and died right there. In another, you made it to the park and got to exercise. Some douchebag stabbed you in the gut over your smartwatch. He'd been watching you for weeks from the bushes and you never saw him. You bled out. In another, you make it through unscathed, go home, clean up go to work; only die of food poisoning later that week.
See, this is why I don't eat sushi anymore.
Everything is trying to kill you whether you like it or not. Including you of course. We're all self destructive in some way, it's only natural. Whatever gets you off. My guess is if everything else doesn't get you, old age is just this crazy train saying you've finally finished the bonus levels.
I've been shot. I've been stabbed. I've been set on fire. Drowned twice. Numerous car accidents. That one time I went skydiving. That *other* time I felt safe sleeping at my ex-girlfriend's house. Fuck you, Tina.
I've seen it all. Okay, correction, not everything. But I've had a rough time. I've been like this since I was a child. Let that sink in.
Point is, I'm the only one. And I guess that's why I chose such a risky profession.
Of course he would run to the train station. Figures.
I've been after this guy for a while for a couple of things. Namely, as a detective, because it's my job. And secondly because rumor has it he knows the secret behind why I'm like this. After about two months of digging, here we are, on foot and out of breath.
Running always sucks. I don't care how you sugar coat it.
Oh great, now he has a hostage. Okay, time to play it cool. No reason to get someone else drawn into this more than they already have been.
I just died from a gunshot wound. Again.
Seems fair. I was dumb enough to rush him. That's why this time, I'm staying behind cover. I died this time too.
So now I'm behind *solid cover.* Note to future self.
Okay can't rush him, maybe I can try reasoning with him?
"Come on George, let her go. She's not part of this!"
"Back off or she gets it!"
"I just want to talk! Let her go!"
George let her go alright. Right into the path of an oncoming train. He of course bolts across the tracks. Coward. She's lying down there. My guess is that she's hurt. Oh well, same old, same old right? No time like the present I guess.
I tried my best to get us off the tracks. But it turns out, as usual, I've always been a little bad with judging distance. Not to mention time management.
The train hit us, and as expected. There probably isn't enough to bury. Poor lady. She didn't deserve that. Now I'm back and she's paste on the bottom of the-
"-THANK YOU!!"
She's alive?? Wait, *no.* She should be dead. I've had things like this happen before. I make it, and unfortunately, they don't. It's bothered me constantly.
But here she is, crying and hugging me on the other side of the platform. In this timeline, I was fast enough. But, if she's here too, then that means...
"...I thought I was dead."
"...I know. Me too."
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | I glance over at my wife sound asleep in the passenger seat, chuckling because she's going to be so hung over tomorrow. I'm just glad we got out of there before she completely made a fool of herself in front of her coworkers. Besides, we had promised the babysitter that we'd be home at a decent hour this time.
My eyes come back to the road to find a car suddenly stopped 30 feet ahead. I was going way too fast to stop in time. Left or right, left or right? I make a split-second decision -- left. Fuck, wrong choice. The tires squeal right before they lose contact with the road altogether. My car tumbles once, twice, three times. Michelle is screaming now. My mind can't comprehend what's happening as the car is tumbling more times than what seems physically possible. I realize that we're in a free fall just as the car crashes to the valley floor under Grayson Bridge. We both died on impact.
"Mr. Jones. Can you hear me?"
My eyes are swollen shut save for a sliver of light. I'm disoriented. Is this the afterlife? I'm 100% sure I should be dead. I try to talk but the only thing I can muster is half a moan.
"Mr. Jones. You're lucky to be alive. The emergency workers described a very grizzly scene. Thank goodness you swerved right, else you would've perished for sure."
Alive? What is he talking about? Did he say that I swerved right? Something's not right -- I clearly remember serving left and immediately regretting that decision. I shudder as I recall the last moments of my life. It takes me nearly a minute, but I finally conjure up two syllables, "Mi... chelle?"
"Your wife. She's alive and conscious. Badly wounded, but in stable condition. She's with your family in the adjacent room. You'll see them soon. But for now, you need to rest. We're doing to increase your drip to allow you to sleep comfortably."
\----
&#x200B;
When I finally awoke again, the swelling in my eyes had subsided slightly. I hear my kids' voices even though I can't make out their faces. I hear Michelle, along with a few other family members. I can feel my son climbing onto the bed. Even through the morphine, I can feel my ribs burn as he hugged me. I kissed both kids, embracing the moment. "Kids, maybe Uncle Brad can take you down to the cafe to get some cookies. I need to talk to your mom, ok?"
They don't hesitate a second before grabbing their uncle's hand and rushed him out the door. I hear the squeaking of chair legs as Michelle scoots her chair up to my bed.
"Michelle, I don't know what's going on, but I'm sure that we should both be dead. I remember crashing over the bridge and falling to our deaths."
"Luke, you're confused. The paramedics said that you swerved right into a ditch."
"Wait, you don't remember the car tumbling? You don't remember falling? You don't remember screaming on the way down?"
"We're alive, isn't that all that matters? Luke, you're still badly hurt. Just go back to sleep ok? Just thank God that we're alive." She kissed my forehead and stepped out, leaving me to my thoughts.
Sleep? Yeah right. My mind was racing at a mile a minute at this point. What are the implications of these events? Am I dreaming? Is this heaven? An alternate universe? If so, how do I so vividly recall the other universe where I surely died?
At what point did the timeline branch? How many other times has the universe forked? Infinity times? Am I special? Does time fork for only me, or does everyone's timeline fork? If it forks for everyone, does that mean there are infinity infinities out there?
Do the other timelines carry on? Is there a universe out there where my two kids are mourning the loss of their parents? I come to the conclusion that, yes, this must be true. While I'm overjoyed that I'm alive in this timeline, I'm deeply depressed at the realization that in another timeline my kids are going to grow up without Michelle and me.
Does this mean that I'm immortal? How does that work? Is there a future timeline where medical advancements allow my life to carry on beyond what is seemingly possible by today's science? If we are immortal, then what is the meaning of life? It's all pointless. Fuck this. I rip the tubes from my arms and chest. I close my eyes and listen to the heart monitor go flat.
"Mr. Jones. Can you hear me?"
&#x200B;
EDIT: Formatting. This is my first WP submission. | 2019-01-03T21:43:13 | 2019-01-03T20:43:24 | 221 | 22 |
[WP] Due to an accident during your childhood, you stopped aging physically and became immortal. After a few years, it's clear that it would be difficult to hide that fact from your friends so you left without saying goodbye. Ridden with guilt, you paid them a visit when they are now old. | “Hey, Tim.”
His vacant eyes shot in my direction but it was obvious there was no recognition there. No vision at all, really. Thin grey cataracts clouded over his once blue eyes. They flowed and shimmered in the firelight.
“I know that voice,” he croaked at me. He was a million miles and seven decades away from the boy I once knew. His old boyish charm, the confidence of teenagers unleashed upon the world. Cliche as it sounds, it was us against the world. We were ready, we knew we could do it, and God himself couldn’t have stopped us.
“Yeah, it’s me bud.” I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bare to see in this state. It wasn’t the oxygen tank and the tubes up his nose. It wasn’t the skin hanging off his bones, it wasn’t his glassy eyes. It was the time lost. It will become but a snapshot in the eternity of my life, but it is everything he has had or ever will have. And I missed it all.
“My ears must be failing me, or perhaps the nurses have finally decided to give me an extra ration of painkillers. Or maybe this is what death is,” same old Tim, morbid to the end.
“I’ll see if I can swing that for you,” I said, “you’re not the only one with a silver tongue.”
He laughed a long wheezing laugh, and ended up coiled forward coughing up his lungs. I lunged forward to his side and cradled my old friend as he tried to control his cough and get his breathing under control.
“Easy there chief,” I said.
“Now you see I can’t be hallucinating, if I can grasp a man’s hand?”
“Not hallucinating this time chief.”
“That’s exactly the sort of thing a hallucination would say —” I couldn’t argue with his logic, “— so answer me this: why do I hear the voice of Mike? Of the Mike I once knew? The Mike whose voice is as fresh now as it was all those years ago?”
“You’re not going to believe me,” I said.
“Try me.” Just as assertive as always.
“Tell me about you, bud. What did I miss? You get married? Kids? Did you make it to NASA? Shit, I bet you did. We all knew you had it in you.” I couldn’t help myself, vomiting all the questions that had rolled around my head for years.
He wheezed out a laugh again, “Wife? Yep. You shoulda seen her, Mike. Lit up the room? She lit up the neighbourhood. Met not long after, y’know, you disappeared…” he trailed off in thought for a moment, “What the hell happened to you Mike?”
It took me a moment to find the words. I had to tell him. Lord knows that’s part of why I was there to begin with, but now that it was game time, my brain fogged up with guilt and fear.
“It was an accident,” I whispered, “I don’t know what happened, exactly, but I do remember waking up in the woods. Years later. Unharmed, as far as I could tell, it was as if I’d woken up the same day.”
“The woods?” he asked.
“Near the power plant. You remember what we always said? First to break in there would get dibs on asking Ellen to the dance. Well, I figured I had a good chance. Always knew she was into me anyway, but needed to seal the deal you know?”
At that he laughed his hardest and he squeezed my hand against his awful coughing and wheezing. “Me and Ellen had a secret thing for months,” he snorted.
I had to laugh at that, “Of course you did, you old dog. I’m sure she was only trying to get to me through you.”
“Sure she was,” he said with a toothy grin, “so you woke up in the woods. Why did you disappear?”
“For the same reason I’m the same person I was seventy years ago. Exactly the same person. I remain in the body of a sixteen year old boy. You can’t see it but I haven’t aged a day.”
“Some people get all the luck,” he said.
“I’m serious.”
“No doubt that you are, so why are you here?”
It was selfish really. The only reason to come was to fulfil my own closure on a friend I lost decades ago. By my own actions. He lived his life. Really lived his life. Maybe I was jealous of that and wanted to hear about it. Maybe deep down I hoped he’d forgotten me entirely and I could just fade out of his existence just as I had before. But here I was, facing my frail best friend as a breathed his last in front of the fire in a nursing home hundreds of miles from where we grew up.
“I figured after seventy years you could do with a bit of help,” I said.
“Cut the shit. If you’re anything like the same as you were, I bet the guilt has been killing you for years and you’re looking to fix that?”
“On the money as always,” I said.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I lived my life. Got married, had a couple of kids. I did things I’m proud of, and a few that I’m not,” a tear traced its way down his wrinkled cheek, “but I missed you, Mike. We were invincible together. We were going to grow old together.”
“And now one of those is true, and the other is not,” I said.
“At least you’re here now,” he said, “you know, Steve replaced you as best man.”
“Steve? You’re kidding?” that guy was an asshole.
“Wish I was. He got drunk and fell in the cake.”
My friend Tim died a few hours later. I stayed with him to the end, grasping his cold hand and talking about his life. He’d made it to NASA like he’d always dreamed. He had the picture perfect family, the house in the ‘burbs, family dog, the whole nine yards.
Yet I persist. In the following decade I visited half a dozen more people from my past. Some remembered me, some didn’t. It wasn’t the forgetful ones that hurt the most, it was the ones that remembered. The ones who maintained a small corner of their heart just for me until finally I darkened their door yet again, all those years later. | "Hello Darius."
"Trevor? How? You... you haven't aged a bit."
"I know, that's why I left. It's not easy to hide. But I felt like I owed you an explanation."
"The others..."
"Departed, I know. Sorry."
Trevor took a seat at the dying man's bed. The evening was well-advanced, the full moon hidden by black clouds. The chilly wind announcing a cold winter battered against the window. In the distance, the sea lazily came and went, as it always did this time of year.
The room was barren, Darius had always been fond of minimalism, preferring to fill his mind with memories rather than his house with furniture.
Trevor, undying, sat with his last childhood friend. All the others were gone, long ago or recently, it didn't matter.
Tonight felt like an epilogue, the distant finale of a story.
And Trevor spoke.
At the time, he needed money. His parents weren't poor, but he had a bad relationship with them and wanted out. And at John o'groats, Scotland's own version of the end of the world overlooking the sea, there were not many ways out.
Luckily, locals had a way to come through with gossip and information or outright legends. One bit of rumor had it that an old harbor in an abandoned coastal village was in the process of renovation. Not a systemic rebuild, but a clean-up to attract potential investors. It could be a private wharf, or a pleasant way to offer boat trips to tourists. Two warehouses, one bigger, the other smaller, and two long wharf running into the sea comprised the workplace. In bonus came the legend stating that, clearly, nobody lived under the docks. Generally spoken in a hushed way, hinting that something did, in fact, live there. Children loved it.
Trevor took the job. He was a one man crew to clean up a massive zone. Not that the harbor was big, it was, as expected, rather on the smaller side of things. But for one young man alone to handle the whole job felt like a tremendous task. Still, it paid decently, and was a short trip away from Kirkdale. Trevor took a chamber there by old miss Naeger, and enjoyed his first bit of independence greatly. The few people he met in Kirkdale were all very kind, offering him warm meals on cold evenings, alongside words of encouragement. On his free days, Trevor got back to his childhood village and got his drinks on with Darius and the others.
In the morning, he went to the abandoned village with his bike, and got to work. Bit by bit, he scrubbed and sanitized the place, with his strong arms, and lots of strong alcohol.
He also cursed the punks coming afterwards making a mess of the place.
A clean floor was covered with a sticky fluid, the next day. Splashes of black covered a white wall, and it went on.
Trevor warned the society employing him. He was advised to keep on, while an investigation would be undertaken to find the culprits. That was unlikely to yield results, he knew, for lost youth abounded here, and boredom made you wreck up things anywhere you could, especially abandoned places. He was no different.
The noise was something else though. Clicks and scratching through the walls, an underlying chatter of tongues that was impossible to understand. This, too, was unnerving, but not new. Rats scoured places near water.
On and on it went, supported by the kind elders and miss Naeger who told him to keep his head high and shone a new light on the situation. After all, dirt meant he would be employed longer.
One day, he discovered a hole in the concrete ground of the small warehouse. He went against common sense and into an adventure with a rope tied to a pole. From there, he came into the underground. A sprawling mix of brick walls and modern sewers. A senseless labyrinth, he got lost fast.
At his wit's end and starting to panic, Trevor found a massive chamber. Four ways led over a bottomless pit to a burning fire in the center. Moths flew around it, attracted to the flame, never getting so close as to get burned.
As he approached, he saw a shape on the other side of the fire, gazing back at him.
That thing.
It was massive. It had the bulging eyes a moth, four wings that kept trembling as if agitated by an invisible wind, long scrawny arms, and mandibles. So many mandibles, they seemed hungry, darting and moving towards Trevor as if to push the host to eat him.
Trevor ran, the fiend followed in a clattering of clicks and scratches, long fangs left marks on the solid floor and moths followed it with glee.
He didn't remember how long he ran, only the burning sensation in his chest, the terror, the gasps and the silent prayers.
Also the insane luck he had to find the rope leading back into the warehouse. | 2021-09-12T10:02:41 | 2021-09-12T09:50:26 | 727 | 178 |
[WP] In a post-apocalyptic world, you've been unsuccessfully trying to find other survivors. Settlements aren't that difficult to locate, but they always seem to have been hastily abandoned shortly before your arrival. A thought strikes you: is it you they're running from? | There is only death left.
Years ago, before I could hardly remember anything, there was life. Movement. Trees would shake in the breeze, green leaves swaying gently. You might hear a dog bark down the road, past the groups of people walking by. It wasn’t always good, but it was always human.
It was all ruined by the hubris of man, that which made it. I walk alone now, down the path worn by other survivors.
I haven’t seen them. I find their belongings instead, ripped and dirty from overuse. The trees no longer sing, I haven’t heard the voice of another living being for too long. I’m going mad, I’m sure.
I find their settlements, too. It isn’t hard. They leave behind almost everything- their tents, their tools, and sometimes their so-called food. It makes no sense. They’ve obviously left in a hurry, and I can’t help but wonder why.
What are they running from?
The disease that ruined us all isn’t a living thing. It never was. The economic disaster that followed wasn’t living.
The only living thing, so far as I can see, is me.
And I wish I wasn’t. Every day I starve, hungry with pain I can hardly fathom. There is no food. I look for food. I cannot find any.
I only find the remnants of humanity.
Every day I am thirsty. There is no clean water, only sludge left. It’s thick and gray and smells of rot. I don’t touch it, and so I am parched.
I had a dog once. I don’t anymore.
It’s very easy for me to find things that aren’t consumable. The settlements, for one. The disgusting things they leave- canned filth they call food. I can only assume they actually eat it. I tried it once.
When I finally catch up to them, I think I’ll ask them why they keep leaving me. I reach and reach and reach so much that I feel my hands grow longer to catch them. My fingers feel as if there are extra joints, but I know there aren’t.
I hardly remember before the desolation, but you can’t forget too much in such a short time, surely. Surely, for sure, I haven’t. I won’t.
Just before me I can see another settlement, smoke rising slowly. They will be gone before I’m there, but I will try. I begin to run.
There is no wind to feel, but air is certainly displaced as I move. I move so fast. They couldn’t run from me at these speeds. I was a runner before all this. I had to be, my muscles are too used to the strain. I don’t remember.
Closer and closer I approach. I am silent, my bare feet swift and sure. I don’t have shoes anymore, and I don’t think I’d wear them if I did. I outgrew my old ones. They were too small.
I hear screams on the wind. I shouldn’t. Why would there be screams? I am too far to hear them anyhow. The settlement is miles away. Miles and miles and miles.
And so very close. | This is starting to get strange. I wouldn't expect to find much people around in a literal apocalypse, but at this point its just bizzare. Its been god knows how long and I haven't seen a single human. Surviving isn't *that* hard, but I dont even think thats the problem. Whenever I find a campsite or remnants of what was likely a community full of people, its always empty. Empty.. no, abandoned, but not empty. Half empty bottles left behind, clothes still drying on the racks and fireplaces still crackling. And not a drop of blood.
People always leave just before I get there. But why? Are they running from something? Am i not noticing it? Is it.. is it me?
Nonono, why would it be me? What could I have done that would make them want to run from me? I dont even know them! I only know like.. like.. some people, probably. Uh..
Who was I with when this all started? Where was I when this all started? What did I do before that? What.. what even is this? An apocalypse but.. what is happening? Zombies? No, I dont think so, I.. uh..
Why are my hands so red? Wheres my backpack? Did I have a backpack? Whats a..
Who am I? ̷W̶h̶y̶ ̶a̶m̵ ̷I̷ ̵s̷o̸ ̴h̴u̸n̸g̵r̶y̴?
***W̷͑h̸̕y ̷ ̵a̶m̴̿ I ̸sö̴...***
&#x200B;
Right, I need to find some other survivors. This is starting to get strange. | 2020-04-29T08:24:20 | 2020-04-29T07:35:46 | 110 | 79 |
[WP] New arrivals in eternal Hell may choose either of the following: a small wooden spoon, or a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven. | When I first arrived in hell i was surprised at their ability to process so many people at once. I moved up the line with relative speed until finally it was my turn.
"Name?" the strange boney creature asked. His voice was shrill yet husky, for a moment i was busy thinking this was an odd combination before quickly replying. "James, James Smith".
He gestured for me to place my hand on the counter, and I complied. I'd seen those in front of me pass through this stage, so I knew what was to come and i had mentally prepared myself, or so I though. The boney beast pulled out a hot metal branding iron and plunged it into the top of my hand. I cried in pain even though I tried not to. The worst of the pain subsiding, the beast directed me to pass down the side of his desk and onto the next stage of admittance.
As I turned a corner I came upon a small desk with a weary looking old man. The desk had a plaque attached to it "eternal decisions desk”. As I approached the desk, the man began talking in a hardly audible monotone voice “A small wooden spoon, or a 100-trillion years in heaven?”.
At first I thought it was some sort of trick, and I was full of questions, but as I was about to ask, he foresaw my questions and answered, “It’s no trick, heaven or a regular plain old wooden spoon”. While I had no reason to trust him, all things considered, heaven seems the better option. So, as I looked once again over the sign on his desk, I gave him my decision. He looked surprised, perplexed, and slightly constipated as he handed me my spoon. Realising what just happened I began to tremble.
“I meant heaven, I was looking at the sign and said spoon by mistake” I explained, but he was having none of it. He gestured for me to move to the side. I stood there limp and in disbelief as what felt like hundreds of other people came up to the weary old man and made their decision to take a trip to heaven. One by one, they were enveloped in heavenly light and whisked away.
Eventually I accepted the fact and proceeded onwards onto the next stage of admission. I take two steps towards the door leading to the next stage, and the door lights up in a wall of blue flames. I jump startled, and my spoon goes flying from my hand and lands right in the fire. I watch it burn.
Feeling sorry for myself, I accept defeat and walk through the door into the third stage of admission expecting to see pools of lava, scorching fires and brimstone, but all there is is darkness, except for a small flickering light in the distance.
I begin to walk in the direction, thinking this was some sort of test. When I finally arrive, I see none other than the devil himself sitting in his underwear on a couch playing an old Nintendo 64. Surprised at what I was seeing, and his apparent total concentration on the game I cleared my throat. Startled he let out a mouthful of fire and just sat there looking at me. “What are you doing here?” he asked surprised, “why didn’t you pick heaven?”.
I explained that I meant to pick heaven, and seeing as though he actually seemed pretty cool I asked if it was possible to change. “Sure” he said, “just give me the spoon and I’ll send you on your way”. Can my internment to hell get any worse, I wonder, as I collapse on the floor explaining that I let the spoon burn up. I was hoping for some mercy, but what I heard was nightmarish “Without trading the spoon, I cant really send you up there, I guess you’re stuck here”, he said without any sense of remorse.
Resigning to my new life, I asked what I was to expect from now on. “So where do I go from here? fire-pits? Lava tubes? Rooms full of rusty nails?”. I was trying to brace myself for what was to come, but nothing could prepare me for what he said next.
“ Eh, You’re the first one here. I’ve still got 99-trillion years before I have to start making all that stuff – I’m a bit of a procrastinator. Tell you what, I’ve been trying to get inside this forest temple for over a decade, if you know how to do it, I’ll put you in charge of building hell.”
| "Well, this has to be a trick."
Orogoth the Soul Crusher raises one of his many eyebrows.
"**Excuse me?**"
"It's a trick. Who wouldn't chose heaven?"
The Demon sighs, triggering a ripple effect across his fat folds.
"**Well, maybe we know that's the first thing a mortal would think. Preying upon all the delusional bastards who liken that they're clever. Usual sort, down here.**"
The man's grin broadens, and he waggles an accusing finger.
"Aha, but that's just the sort of thing one would expect from Hell. So they'd chose the vacation, and ultimately get conned. *Veeery psychological*."
The man taps his temple.
"I'll be havin' the spoon then mate."
A thorn covered tentacle drops a small wooden spoon into the outstretched hand.
"**Enjoy.**"
The man descends into Hell, as a line of people behind him vanish in a flash of white light with cries of ecstasy.
"Oooooooh, that's real mahogany that is."
"Sir! You there sir! I assume you picked the spoon?"
The man glanced up from his prize. A mustachioed man in a suit and top hat was striding up to him. The spoon quickly vanished into his pocket.
"Yeah? What's it to you?"
"Oh, no no no. We Spooners take care of our own. Please, come with me. I assure you, you'll be quite pleased. "
The dapper swain beckons, then ducks into one of the many caves dotting the burning landscape.
The man follows, weaving through the cramped passageway until it opens into a massive chamber. A rope ladder constructed of human hair and bones rises up into the ceiling, through a hole just large enough for a person to crawl through.
"Go on then, climb the ladder. You'll know what to do."
The man grumbles to himself, but curiosity gets the better of him.
His muscles are screaming in agony by the time he reaches the top.
He's almost ready to faint. The ladder stops at a dead end.
He can go no further.
The man blindly feels the cold rock above him. It isn't smooth like the rest of the rocks in Hell. Rather, he feels hundreds of tiny little grooves.
Taking out his spoon, the man stabs out. It carves the stone like butter. A large chunk is loosed, and the spoon shatters into splinters.
"Hah, I'll be damned."
Darkness takes his vision, and he plummets back down the shaft.
******
He wakes up to a large group of people cheering. Mr. Top hat is back, standing above him and curling his mustache.
"Good show! Good show! Get the lad some succubus milk, he earned it. Oh yes, a few thousand more like you and us Spooners will be out of here in no time." | 2015-06-07T23:46:46 | 2015-06-07T21:00:31 | 291 | 218 |
[WP] You just got fired, you're pretty sure your girlfriend is cheating on you, you're 75k in student loans debt, rent was due last week, and to top it all off? You're all out of beer. Oddly enough, you just got an email titled "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard."
EDIT: muh front page reddit wew lad.
This blew up a lot more than I thought it would.
I'm having a great time reading the responses I even decided to add one myself in the comments. | Damn bitch would be here any minute. I sighed, trying to steady my nerves, wishing I had something to drink. Had to confront her sometime, might as well get it over with. Though I could just wait until they evicted me and I had to move back in with mom...no, I'm a better man than that.
My phone buzzed. A text? Was she here? No, an email. No subject, sender was some random string of numbers and letters, only one line of text: "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current level: Very Hard."
Weird. Maybe Jeff was pulling a prank? Jeff's pranks usually sucked though. Ketchup packets under the toilet seat, shaving cream on a slice of pie. Fuck it, I decided. I typed "Yes" and hit send.
The reply was almost instantaneous. "Please choose level: Easy Medium Hard Very Hard Extremely Hard". I typed "Easy" and hit send. I waited. Nothing seemed to be happening. I laughed at myself for thinking anything would, which meant I felt far less nervous when I heard the knock at the door. Had to be her. I walked over and opened it.
"Shonda--" I began, but she cut me off.
"Who the hell are you? Where's Jamal?" She pushed past me into the apartment. "Jamal? Baby, you here?"
Perplexed, I responded, "Shonda, it's me, what are you talking about?"
She wheeled around and shot me a suspicious look, as if I was the one hiding something. "The hell are *you* talking about? I've never seen you before in my life!"
Confused, I stepped towards her, lifting my arms to take her by the shoulders when I noticed my hands, for some reason unusually pale... | "Yes. Yes, I want to change my difficulty setting."
"Very Easy, please?" Or something simpler, if it exists.
Trembling, I sent my plea, my request.
In moments, my inbox had a reply.
"1 of 4 players have voted to change the difficult setting to Very Easy."
Then, my computer chimed again. 3 new emails, each with the subject line "Player message received." | 2016-03-30T17:32:38 | 2016-03-30T15:15:03 | 107 | 18 |
[WP] Everyone is now born with only one feeling. It is possible to kill another person to obtain their feeling. | The world is a dangerous place, made all the more dangerous for having a passive emotion. What I wouldn't have given for my daughters to have had one of the powerful emotions, such as envy, or anger, so that they might be among the strong, or even fear like me, so that they might still be alive and in hiding. But each one of them, upon the onset of puberty and the revealing of their emotion had to get one that got them taken from me.
Sarah was the oldest. Growing up, she was a bright kid, and it looked like she might be able to lead us out of our cloistered existence. But when she reached the age of 12, her emotion was chosen for her by the gods and it was compassion. Compassion is quite possibly the worst emotion. When we went out to get supplies, where before, she had joined me in skulking around corners and hiding at every noise, now she was attracted to all those on the street who were injured by the power players. Her compassion made her want to go comfort them in their hour of pain, and to try to heal those that she could. She did not last a day. She found a poor chap, suffering from sadness, who had gone out to meet his end, and he had the misfortune to meet a sadist, who had been torturing him just before we came by. But all she was an injured man lying on the street in obvious pain, so she went to comfort him. She was still holding his head in her arms and cooing when a ragehead found her and she was dead.
Emily was next, at the age of 13, she developed pity. She found an old woman with zen being raped by a gang of lusters. She took immediate pity on her and her inability to stop the situation and confronted the attackers, only to be taken herself. No doubt she is still locked up in their den, unable to feel anything but pity for them.
If any of my children were to be strong, I would have thought it would be Rachel. As a young child, she was definitely the most forceful of the three, speaking her mind whenever she disagreed with something. I thought that she might be able to join the gangs and have a life longer than her sisters, but no. When she came into her own, she was struck by the worst one of all: trust. She was unable to do anything but trust anyone she met; trust them not to hurt her, trust them with everything. When she gained trust, she no longer felt the need to hide and run like me, but instead went out in the open to greet the power players on the street. She was safe at first, as the clever ones realized the danger of trust and not wanting that for themselves, but she soon found herself in the company of man who was a natural ragehead and had gained distrust on a previous kill. Realizing the potential of feeling two opposing emotions, he made quick work of her.
Here I lie in my hovel, no longer having any family. I want to kill myself, or go out and get myself killed, but I am too afraid. I am not brave, I am not courageous, I am not gallant. I know only fear, and in the case of my daughters, my fear was carried out in the worst possible ways. I now can only fear for myself. | Hate was what I was born with. That was the only thing I felt. Before I killed someone.
His name was Mattias. He was the person I killed, due to my hate. He showed me love, he gave me something called "happiness". But I was hesitant all the time. I hated him. I only had hate inside of myself. We kissed, we started dating. But I didn't know about *my* feelings.
And that was until I saw him give love to others. He was kind to others. He loved all persons, just like Christ and God. But my feelings became clear to me. I hated him. It was a form of jealousy. I killed the people he loved. Of course though, I got their feelings too. But all they felt was unhappiness and emptiness. That was why they were pitied, because of their unhappiness and poverty. And that's what I received when I killed them: unhappiness. That deepened my feeling of hate. I started hating Mattias even more. I absolutely detested him.
Then, I chose to kill him. I still remember his words when I had murdered him: "You will regret this." I had only laughed at him in disbelief. I was getting revenge. It was putting my hate into action.
And then, I got the feeling he had owned: love. I did regret it. I realized I'd loved him and hated him. He made me jealous and gave me the feeling of love, which I did not want. I loved him though. He gave me a world of care and happiness.
Finally, I made a decision on my perspective. I hated *myself*. If I hadn't killed him, I wouldn't receive love. If I hadn't first met him, I wouldn't hate him either. The only one to hate is myself. | 2015-04-01T15:07:15 | 2015-04-01T12:02:39 | 39 | 14 |
[WP] Humans' ancestors never evolved on land, instead they went deeper into the oceans. Today, their equivalent of NASA sent their first "spaceship" out of the water. | Sun. It overpowered all her senses, spreading through her nervous system like jellyfish venom. Its heat pierced her protective suit, its light penetrated her goggles like they were nothing and ringing; the weight of the earth seemed to be bearing down on her shoulders and ringing, endless ringing was the only thing she could hear. Yet, after a moment of disorientation, standing on "the earth" and exposed to the world above, she was filled with rapture.
"This is heaven." Her voice rang through the intercom.
"This is hot." He touched her shoulder in passing, harpoon gun in tow as he approached the green, waving moss that seemed to cover most of this celestial plane.
"Environmental levels stables. No breathable atmosphere so keep the masks on. Otherwise, you should be good." A third voice crackled from within the vessel.
She did not have to be told twice, pulling off her suit and exposing her skin to the air, the sand, the sunlight. She might have frolicked slightly before he brought her back to reality.
"The mission. We're here to do a job, I didn't think I'd- what the hell is that!?"
Standing at the top of an incline, she could not see what he was pointing his weapon at. She hastened to follow him but struggled to move through the absence of water with what felt like a bag of rocks on her back. He shook, aim shaking with him as he continued to exclaim.
"It's fucking huge! Poseidon, are you getting this? Five feet tall, thick bones jutting from a head, skin marred by great black patches. Oh god, it saw me! It saw me! What do I do?"
She heard it before she saw it, a short, monstrous cry. It oddly reminded her of the noise her grandmother made when she was woken up. But here, there was no echo. It only made it more terrifying. She reached him just as he was putting his finger on the trigger, desperately turning his aim aside, the harpoon flying wide, missing the cow. | We're finally about to do it. We're about to send the first drone out of water. Nobody has ever seen past what we call zone 1, the part of the water right before water ends. It has been told in the ancient books that past the water is a thing called air that when consumed for more than 5 seconds will suffocate you, just like when you hold your gills. It is month 16 year 1565 and we're finally going to send out the first drone out of water and experience it for the first time in history. Nobody really knows what's beyond water, but we're about to find out. | 2015-04-19T20:33:21 | 2015-04-19T18:29:02 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts. | They say you do not really die until none still live who remember you. That is not entirely true. I faded from this realm, lost in the cosmic noise. I dreamt of the great worms, the dark devourer, and the angels with whom they fought.
And then I woke.
Slowly I became aware of the stone. Cracked and mossy. Ancient by any measure. The sky was blue. Cloudless. It was daylight. I felt weak. Hungry.
"It's tea time, Mr. statue! This is Mr. Bun!"
A small figure bounced around the shrine in pantomime. Acting out the feast of some beasts or others. I was not the only god represented, though this was my shrine. A god of the harvest - a rabbit - was seated to my right. And a god of magick - a unicorn. And finally one of the great worms, his tail alight with power, sat in a tiny plastic chair to my left.
"Mrs. Glow Worm thinks you need a bath," the tiny priestess announced. She squeezed the elder god and its tail again charged with power. Then she came forward and began to clean the shrine in supplication.
This strange union - man, earth, aether, and darkness - I had never believed such to be possible. This creature, this High Priestess, was worth a thousand, perhaps ten thousand worshippers. Her vision was beyond the imagination even of the Gods. Or at least, of me, Dartul, God of the River.
And where was the river? I sensed nothing. No realm to watch over, no boats to sink or sail, no fish to feed, and no water to guide.
A voice rang out: "Sidney, get your friends, it's time for school!"
The Priestess took note. "Coming mama!" She turned to my shrine, her wise eyes peering through me. "You'll keep me safe, won't you?"
The ritual was clear. All of the Great Powers had been joined to free me from my river shackles and bend me towards a great purpose: The protection of this young master in her quest to unite the world.
"Yes," I told her. "Always."
She did not respond in any way, but rather bounced back to the house nearby, across a tiny lawn - when had that appeared? - and she vanished through a wooden door.
Time to keep the promise. I reached out with the back of my consciousness to feel the earth, the air, and the world around. I was weak, that much was clear. And so was the world. The air was filthy with dirt and ash. The earth had been covered up in many places; a patchwork of construction preventing the trees from growing where they would. And the water was gone. Or... there was some, I could sense, in metal tubes. Some was clean and pure, and some was rancid and full of filth.
The world was broken.
Through this break I saw my chance. As a former river god, I knew the ways of the water. I could flow through the pipes with ease to anywhere they ran. When the Priestess, Sidney, rode in her metal carriage with her entourage, following her was simple.
Protecting her was not. Other carriages careened around the patchwork as we traveled. Some seemed orderly and well behaved, while others wove unpredictable patterns. Twice I had to bat one away as it drew too closely to my ward. Birds dared to defecate upon her vehicle and I smote them for it. A squirrel stood defiantly before them and I crushed it to dust.
The god of the harvest had given me her blessing, after all, and the elder god his methods. I would use them all. I summoned the lampreys of the midden to dispose of the dead things and then return to the space between, for I sensed the Priestess wished not to look upon their offensive forms.
And then the carriage stopped. A woman got out, took the Priestess' hand, and they began to walk together.
I was a fool.
This was clearly her mother, not a slave or pious escort. The tiny Priestess was only a child. And yet her ritual, her supplication, it had been the correct form. Perhaps she was chosen by an even greater God than I to wind the world back together.
I followed, rustling the leaves of the large tree that stood in front of the building to which they headed. A school.
Here the teacher and her thirty classmates sat. The teacher read to them stories of the gods of yore - ancient gods of the Greeks, dragons of China, and of the great and terrible wizards of Europe. I had never heard these tales before, never met those gods. I had slumbered long, I supposed.
"Does anyone want to tell a story about a mythical creature," the teacher asked.
My Priestess raised her hand.
"Yes, Sidney, go ahead."
"Behind my house there is a statue of a woman and she protects me," evangelized the child. "She holds the water in her hands like a snake and her legs are covered in fish scales. I think she's pretty."
A God cannot blush - especially an aetherial one - but I felt a great joy at this announcement.
The class clapped. I could feel the belief in them growing, feeding me. And I knew - right then and there - that this new awakening was for not only protecting the High Priestess, but her entire flock.
"I will keep you safe," I whispered to their souls. "Mark a river in the shape of a serpent upon your arms so that others may know you are under my gaze, and I will be your shield and your spear."
They could not hear me, of course. My voice was the rain against the window and the wind through the leaves. But they knew my intentions in their blood and in their bodies. The Old Gods' worms may speak the tongues of men out loud, but the Gods of the Elements moved meaning directly through their souls.
Sidney drew a blue marker from her bag. "Miss Powell," she asked, unbidden, "What's a 'serpent?'"
I cast my gaze outward as the flock fed me their prayers. Some were trivial: "Candy," or "more recess," or "purple hair." But a boy in the corner, he bade me protect him in a manner I understood. "My father hits me sometimes."
With the pure faith of these innocents coursing through my being, I grasped the lightning.
"Describe him to me," I echoed. "And you will never hurt again."
"Thank you, Dartul," the children murmured in unison.
Miss Powell stood suddenly from her pillow in the circle on the floor. "What was that?" She looked afraid, panicked, even.
"Calm yourself," I told her as I flowed towards the downtown through the waterways of the city. "And I will keep you safe."
The father was yelling at a television in his office. Obscenities and vulgarities I am too couth to repeat.
"You are all safe," I told Miss Powell and the children, "as long as you worship me."
The father had a problem with his heart. A tiny hole. He had probably never noticed it. I gave it teeth and purpose.
The boy was safe.
"Worship me," I told the flock as they drew blue serpents on their arms.
"Worship. Me." | Light, for the first time in a long time that Asmodeus could see light at the edges of his vision. His body creaked in protest as he moved for the first time in, well he didn't even know how long it had been since he was last given an offering.
As the vision returned to his eyes he saw something, intetesting, a small human girl looked inquistively, a look of wonder on her face. Asmodeus quickly stood to his full height, he was cloaked in the guise of a man, but one that stood much too tall, how could this feeble child awaken him, the god of honor?
His attention became fixed on the offering, a red and white disc cloaked in plastic, with a wave Asmodeus made the small treat disappear, the young girl clapped her hands enthusiastically and cheered.
Asmodeus cocked an eye brow and took in the wreckage that was his temple, where once a mighty fortress tended to by his best warrior monks only trees and brush grew, he looked behind at his altars once crafted in his likeness was now little more than a reminder of what was, and would never be again.
The young child wore a floral dress, with grey tights underneath and red canvas shoes, her bright brown eyes studied Asmodeus and he couldnt help but smile back at brave child. He conjured enough strength to speak.
"Hail brave follower, why have you woken me from my slumber?" The little girl grinned and answered easily
"You looked hungry and I wanted to share! My older brother always says to share what we have and help those in need!" Asmodeus was pleased, the girl and her brother were kind enough.
"You could see me?" The girl smiled while she responded
"Of course silly, you're very tall!" Asmodeus tried to hold back his laughter, maybe being remembered again wasn't so bad.
"Do you like me tall? Or am I too scary? I can do a magic trick would you like to see?" The young girl clapped and nodded encouragingly.
"What is your favorite animal?" For a moment the child pondered before finally answering the once revered war god.
"Cats! We have a black one named Shadow!"
"Say no more brave little priestess!" In a puff of black smoke Asmodeus had turned himself into a black house cat, his small follower cried out in joy and scooped the diminutive god in her arms.
"I'm taking you to show and tell!" Asmodeus did not know what 'show and tell' was but he was very interested to find out.
"Now my dear we have to introduce ourselves, I am Asmodeus god of honor and battle!" He spoke as the pair made their way from the forrest towards a school, more children making their way inside from recess for class. The little girl took Asmodeus' paw in her hand and shook it.
"I'm Lily! Nice to meet you!" Asmodeus smiled as she moved him into her back pack and the two went into the building.
Lily skipped her way to class, and before she could make it the two hear a commotion. An older child was holding a younger boy to the wall by his throat. Asmodeus couldnt quite make out what was being said, but he could feel the fear and anxiety coming off of his young friend.
"Oh no not Wyborne, they always pick on him" Asmodeus glowed with anger.
"Is he a friend of yours?" Lily nodded
"And that kid bullying him his name is Rufus, he beat up my brother the last time I tried to help Wyborne"
"Lady Lily I'll take care of this" Asmodeus's power had waned, but he was still able to call upon a few tricks, with a great puff he managed to sound his voice through the hall ways booming loudly on the linoleum floors.
"Rufus the COWARD, how about you fight someone your own size?" The voice was menacing, but sometimes that is not enough of a deterrent
The large brute of a fourth grader looked around trying to find where that voice had come from, the other children looked on in wonder. Asmodeus focused all of his power on Wyborne, in a swirl of crimson light the boy was transformed, he was stronger more brave as if he was being controlled by a warrior king.
Wyborne broke the bullys grip and pushed him to the ground, with a sneer Wyborne spat
"You won't push us around ANYMORE!" The surrounding children cheered, Rufus now afraid and embarrassed ran from the hallway. Wyborne was cloaked in crimson light and though the strength was gone, his courage remained.
Lily pet her war god companion in his bag before walking with Wyborne back to their class.
Asmodeus became very aware that show and tell was not as fun as he thought. The children would show a toy, or something that made them happy, he felt anticipation as Lily was called up front and her teacher spoke to show what she had brought
Lily placed the bag on the ground, unzipped it and bowed while saying "I introduce you to, my best friend Asmodeus!"
In a puff of black smoke Asmodeus had transformed from the small compact cat to a warrior in full samurai armor, then in a blink he was a Zulu tribesman, another blink a Greek hoplate
Wyborne pointed excitedly from his seat and exclaimed .
"That's who helped me stand up to Rufus! I could never have done it on my own!" Asmodeus blushed as he was found out, he was quickly overwhelmed as a tide of children rushed forward, to watch him transform and ask him questions, the teacher staring in disbelief.
These were not the followers he was used to, but then maybe that's a good thing. | 2021-09-02T10:35:51 | 2021-09-02T09:59:04 | 61 | 38 |
[WP] As a dragon of innumerable age you have guarded your gold horde for millennium. Many heroes have come with long speeches on how they will slay you, the great evil,none finish. However this one is odd.He throws a coin on your stash, looks you in the eyes and says "I have a proposition for you." | "Fuck me in the ass."
My thick dragon eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I coughed. The fire that was waiting to roast the bastard quelled in my throat.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me Dragon - stick your big fat dragon dick, up my ass."
I didn't feel amused. It'd been a millennium since my mating season. And this man wasn't a dragon. I didn't even want to picture the logistics.
"And suppose human, I seriously considered what you request. Do you think that act is worth a meager coin you just threw onto my pile of treasure?"
The stupid knight nodded.
"This is a dragon's lair not a brothel." I said in disbelief. "Where's the respect gone? The tradition?"
The knight took out a pouch of gold and awkwardly took a step closer to the horde, dropping a few coins more into the pile. He smiled conciliatory, as if he'd meant no insult.
"What, you've got a dragon fetish?"
"Well no, not exactly."
"Then why the fuck do you want to get fucked in the ass by a dragon?"
"That's what I was thinking too until I saw it in a painting and then I couldn't stop thinking about it."
I put a massive claw to my snout and eyes in a dragon facepalm. In the corner of my hearing, I thought I heard a snicker. I looked at the knight, who had a neutral expression.
"Okay." I sighed deeply, "I'll grant you your request. Turn around and bare your rear."
He stammered. "W-wait what, seriously?"
I grinned widely, willing the heavy stone entrances closed with my familiarity of the lair. They landed with a heavy thud.
"I- I was just kidding. There's no way -"
"A dragon's word is golden just like his horde."
He screamed as I opened up my wings, gusting heated air into the room. Fire jettisoned out of my mouth, creating a pillar 30 feet high.
"DRAGON RAAAPE!" I hissed between my teeth, eyes glowing.
The knight began to run back and forth in the stone hall, his helmet clanking up and down.
I spoke lowly in dragon tones, "I bet your human manuscripts don't know how big a Dragon dick is - but feel honored, because you're about to find out."
The knight was still looking for a way out, clawing at the stone gaps frantically. His gait started to look a little awkward as if he'd crapped his pants.
I almost felt sorry for the fellow until he pulled out his sword.
"You take your dick out Dragon, and I'll cut your wanker right off!" He breathed red-faced and with an expression of revulsion.
"Chill out man." I said. "Jared just wanted to pull a prank on you."
"What, huh? What?" The knight only looked more confused.
"Your asshole friend? The guy who dared you to ask me to fuck you in the ass. That guy."
The knight sat, stunned - probably sitting in his own shit. My dragon sense of smell could detect it even from my height.
"JAAARED" He hollered, sword in hand, running out of the entrance of my now opened lair.
I smirked satisfactorily, being a dragon there weren't many things that could keep you entertained anymore.
| "You are certainly most fearsome and undoubtedly powerful," the man begins, "Your wealth is immeasurable and your reputation across millennia is common knowledge: Raza the Terrible - hoarder of gold and collector of souls. All who have challenged you have perished."
This forces a smirk from me as I eye him from across the stone temple. Coins and sparkling gems of every color cascade down my sides onto the massive mountain of gold as I stand up to my full height. The man shuffles noticeably, unsure if I will put a cease to his flattery, but I always hear out those with something to say.
"And?" I quip.
"Yes, you are indeed great, but allow me to say you have not reached your full potential."
"Is that so?" I question, feeling quite amused. "And what would a brave insightful man have to offer me?"
"Every single man and woman knows of you from the time they are children. They know your power and strength and they know to fear you, but through these tales of murder and death, the people only think of you as frightening and petty. Fear is cheap. Wealth is never truly respected. YOU are not respected, you are resented."
I set my jaw and feed the fire behind my eyes. "Is that so? And I suspect you, a man, slave to lust and power, has the wisdom to induce in me something greater than ferocity and fortune?"
"I believe I do," the man replies firmly.
"Well let's here it. But if you fail to impress, I will make quick work of adding to my notoriety," and I take a menacing step forward - sending a rumble through the stone and piles of gold.
The man, unflinching, walks forward into striking distance. I could crush him at any moment. I could lift him with two fingers and drop him down my throat, and although I'm quite tempted, his stare fixates me. But then I see it in his eyes - a familiarity, a faint understanding. This is no man. But I do know what He is.
Edit: Formatting ;)
| 2015-10-13T22:32:10 | 2015-10-13T17:54:29 | 91 | 19 |
[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? | “Mmhmm, okay lets play!” Emma squealed excitedly. Death shook his head involuntarily under his hood at her enthusiasm but caught itself before letting its reaction show on its face.
“What game shall we wager?” Death asked.
Emma being freed from the excruciating pain from the events earlier in the day was smiling and admiring the parts of her body which had become anew. She was free from the haunting strobe light memory flickering to grotesque scenes of her tibia extruding from her shin, a pool of blood spreading on her favorite dress, and the view of rapidly passing rectangular light boxes which eventually faded to black. “Did you fix me?” she looked up inquisitively as she asked.
Death replied in monotone, “A question is not an answer to the question. Pick a game.”
“Well you say cheating is okay but I always hated when Julie cheated but she always won so I want to try it but you have to promise me not to get mad,” Emma blabbered. “Let’s play Rock, Paper, Scissors!”
“Wise are the ones to leave fate up to chance. Any other conditions? Best of 3?” Death said. Death took a liking to this simple game. Seldom had the dying spirit chose this game instead opting for higher chances of survival. Death found it amusing that humans, who did nothing to enrich their soul but rather spent time on accumulating wealth, had such a deep desire to retain their undeveloped worthless soul.
“No just once. Ready?” Emma held her fist up, “On three. Not after. Like one, two, three and when we say three you put your hand out. We both say 1-2-3. One…”
Death repeated after her catching up to her rhythm.
“Two.” They said in unison. Death looked up at her eyes which were focused intensely on its own. “Three!”
Death having sensed no malice from Emma simply threw out its favorite, scissors. But looking down at the skeletal hand flexed in bunny ears it saw or rather did not see Emma’s hand.
“I pick rock!” Emma shouted over giggles. She put her fist out next to Death’s scissors. “You lose! Julie taught me this one. It made me really mad and I called her a cheater but she said ‘no *you* not *we* put your hand out,’ and when I went to mommy crying Julie just laughed. You promised you won’t be mad.”
Death stood silent. Emma’s spirit faded away back towards the realm of the living.
“Innocence of children; I lose to you yet again.”
| "Alright, so you're telling me that if I beat you at ANY game I can go back for another 10 years?!" said the man.
"Yes." said Death. "Any game of your choosing. Cheating is all-"
"Yeah, yeah. Cheating yadda yadda. I heard it the first time." the man snapped.
Death furled what the man assumed to be his brow at the man cutting him off.
Death sat there in silence, motionless. Just waiting for the man in front of him to pick his game.
The man started, "You know, I've play SO many games in my life. So many that I can't even remember what the stories were about anymore, they all just seem to run together."
Death looked on in horror as the man's name started to make more sense.
"I'm guessing you're starting to recognize me at this point, just like it says on the paper you read my name off of-" said the man.
"...I'm Gary fucking Gygax."
Edit: I never really do any prompts. I just thought this sounded fun. Critique if you want. I won't mind it! | 2018-03-07T06:50:46 | 2018-03-07T06:04:24 | 944 | 97 |
[WP] "We have ancient elven magic, and even the dwarves have their ugly mountain forts. What do YOU have, human?!" "Napalm, and high-explosives, mostly..." *grumbling beard in the background* "....our forts are aesthetically pleasing though..." | "Aesthetically pleasing? Maybe. Perhaps by your kinds standards, but not to us. Although I admit they are in a sense when you compare them to the dwarves ugly forts. However... Unlike theirs, yours appear like thin ice, without magic, they seem fragile, no doubt they will shatter and crumble under a child elf pressure magic. Your explosives you spoke of, they're long and pointy, they're structurally weak. You throw yours against the dwarves spherical explosives, there is no doubt your explosives will break in mid air. The napalm? Sounds like oil and fire, which the orcs have and used since the beginning of time. Child's play! Your kind is weak! You have so much land still available in your human realm, yet you're somehow on the brink of destroying it through unsustainable living practice. Our ancestors were crazy to seal your kind away to live in such rich realm. It was a terrible waste. Your race is a mistake. We shall send you back... but ready yourselves, we will take that realm back..."
The elf guards shoved the human representatives through the portal that connected the human realm and the ancient realm, where the elves, dwarves, and orcs reluctantly lived in peace. The elder elf waves his hand and the portal closes. The human representatives debriefed their meetings with the ancient races to world leaders. Concerned whisperings filled the halls at the U.N. headquarters. There was no choice, war had just been declared.
In two weeks, the war ended. The ancient races surrendered... "To have declared war on the human race was a mistake that we the elven, dwarven, and orcish leaders admit. The human race... Possessed powers and knowledge we did not understand. Technology that surpassed the dwarves, explosives packed with magic that erased our army in a flash. Fire that stuck and burned hotter than anything we have seen. Heavily armored man made giant birds that flew faster than any magical winds we could create and threw lighting down at our men. Also their ugly mobile forts that were impenetrable and threw tiny but devastating explosives. The human race is nothing to be messed with. The only logical explanation as to how such a powerful race came to be, is they were created using the best parts of all of us. They have the superior understanding of technology from the dwarves, the superior understanding of nature's magic from the elves, and brutality that exceeds even the orcs. We write this message as a warning to any other race that may exist in other realms. It is too late for us, the humans will come for us, and should you be discovered by them, they will come for you too. | After the meteor destroyed Europe, the ancient races awoke.
The monsters being monsters just didn’t care, it was in their nature to hunt, eat, sleep, and create offspring.
The Elves and the Dwarves and all those others, the good races I guess, they were outraged.
They saw the state of the Earth and declared war.
First they watched us to learn. So that their first strike would hurt humanity. And it did. They took down our communications and electronics very fast.
We tried to put up a fight but they had actual magic. What are we supposed to do about that?
About 5 years into the war Humanity stole magic. While we couldn’t harness it effectively yet we used it to create something new. The Warforged. Robots made from organic materials and powered by magic.
We put up a fight. It was a hopeless one but fighting is something we do well.
Eventually though we lost. Humanity was in shambles. But we will survive.
We have too. It’s in our DNA.
Because we are resilient. We are stubborn creatures. That’s what we have. Resilience and stubbornness.
-Note found in the pocket of Captain Earnhardt. Found dead on December 12, 2027- | 2019-02-03T22:19:31 | 2019-02-03T21:33:54 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids. Another elderly man is there with his grandkids. The two quickly realize they’ve faced off on the battlefield before. | I knew his face -- those searching blue eyes, the high cheekbones, the sharp nose. Time wins all wars, but had done nothing to dull the edge of his razor-sharp features. How many years had it been? I couldn't figure a number. But I remember that day on the south edge of the Riedwihr Woods.
It was so cold, four below at least. I remember thinkin' I never wanted to be that cold again. And, thank God, I never have.
We couldn't dig foxholes because the goddamned ground was frozen. The lieutenant had ordered us to withdraw back into the woods. He thought it was hopeless. Hell, I don't know, maybe it was. It felt hopeless enough most of the time.
That was the day the lieutenant climbed into a burning M10 and laid into the Germans with the heavy machine gun. He called in artillery strikes on his own position and got himself a Medal of Honor. That's a different story, though. Probably a better one than this.
Something else happened that day, something I'll never forget, I can tell you that. In the confusion of the retreat, my squad was falling back and exchanging small-arms fire with the Germans who were tryin' to get a foothold.
At one point, we had to make a break for it, and I got separated from the rest of the unit. I just remember running so damned fast, until the air was frozen glass in my lungs. The snow was so deep I might as well have been running through a field of tripwires.
I don't know how I managed it, but I saw him just a second before he saw me. Hell, I damn near ran right into him. I still remember the look on his face, those eyes, the surprise as I raised my weapon.
Some people will tell you time speeds up at times like this. For me, right there, it slowed way down. I don't know, something about the reality of it. Knowin' I was about to take a man's life, and there was nothin' he could do about it. Air that was as thin as cold razors before suddenly was as thick as afterbirth. I pulled the trigger. It felt like pulling a 200-pound weight.
Misfire.
The goddamn gun didn't go off. I was a dead man, no two ways about it. I was gonna kill this man a second ago, and now he was gonna return the favor.
Except he didn't.
It's the god-damnedest thing. He just didn't. He kind of grinned and took off. Every day, I've wondered why he didn't do it. Not a day goes by I don't think of how it could have been bleeding out right there in the snow.
Lookin' at him now, I could go over an' ask him if I wanted to. There's nothin' to stop me. But I don't have to. Truth is, now I know.
Watchin' these kids play, shootin' at each other with paintball guns, not knowin' what it would be like if that paint came with that overwhelming stink of copper -- yeah, the truth is we both know.
Gettin' up to leave, he comes over and, sure enough, there's a German accent.
“If you don't mind me saying so, you have a beautiful family, sir.”
I look at him. He looks at me. There's a weight, heavy as time. So heavy it chokes you.
“You too, sir. You too.” | "Alphanumeric!" exclaimed the old man. Tomby was his name, or at least that's what they called him in the 2124 Euro-African Union succession wars. He recognized the other man instantly, he was the one that got away. Tomby sat down to try take in what was happening. He blacked out for what seemed like a few seconds but turned out to be about four minutes. He rentered consciousness to the sound of of his grandchildren rhythmicly chanting "grannn... grannn... grannn..." like they did when he would nap on the shitter.
The paintball fight was bout to begin and he found that in his blacked out state he had been outfitted with a tippmann 2098, painted to look like an Indonesian rebel's rifle(which he considered disrespectful due to the ongoing conflict.)
As he walked into the field with his dependents. He then remember that he had seen Galden Hinefar before blacking out. This was the man who he had been assigned to kill, but had managed to escape through careful use of a small broom. Tomby new that he needed to "finish the fight" (he chucked to himself at the halo 2 reference, a game which was now about 120 years old but still fun).
immediately Tomby walked towards Galden, being pelted by by paintball until people started to get confused abut his seemingly lack of fucks given. Once he reached Galden he pushed the confused old man down and shoved his Tippmann down his throat and started shooting. about 8 small children watched in horror as an old man was murdered in cold blood before them. Once Galden's body was filled with paint and mostly motionless, Tomby turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger; forgetting it was a paintball gun.
Failing to kill himself, he sat down in the sand and though about his time as a death squad leader in the euro-African union succession wars, and how much fun he and the boys had. | 2016-09-06T18:32:21 | 2016-09-06T18:24:12 | 478 | 10 |
[WP] You die in a car accident and go to the afterlife. Everything is amazing until you meet several generations of relatives who are disgusted by your modern behaviour and all, "want a word." | I was almost home. They say accidents are more likely to happen within 5 miles of your destination but does anyone really believe that? I guess you really let your guard down on the home stretch.
After a week of 12 hour days, I'd never been more ready for home. Maybe I was speeding. Maybe I dozed off. I don't remember to be honest, all I recall is the sound of crunching metal and squealing tires, then darkness.
I stayed in the darkness for a while, probably unconscious but not dead yet. Eventually I saw a light, and found myself moving towards it. The light was so calming, so peaceful. Nothing hurt, not even my knee that had been bugging me for most of my life. The light got so bright I couldn't keep my eyes open, then suddenly it dimmed. After some adjusting, my eyes finally focused on a small figure before me.
"GRANDMA! Oh I missed you so much it's been so long how....oh this probably means I'm dead."
"Oh don't worry about that dear, it happens to the best of us. I missed you too! But we need to have a word, what's that shirt your wearing? I thought you were coming back from work where's your tie?"
"It's just a band shirt. You passed before Rob Zombie got big didn't you? He does movies too."
"Uck he looks so scary! They let you wear that to work?"
"Yeah, I work...worked...with computers. They were super relaxed about how we dress since the customers didn't see us."
"How many times did I tell you to dress for the job you wanted? Looking like that you must want to be that scary guy! Is he wearing makeup? Is he a clown I don't get it. Robert come over here and see this shirt!"
Guess 6 year old me never saw how old fashioned grandma was. A man in a suit came over, he looked familiar but it took me a while to figure out why.
"Robert....Robert your uncle?"
"That's right junior! His shirt Bertha, what about his hair!? They would have booted me from the army in a second with that mop!"
"Oh Robert calm down, his hair is barely past his ears. You know, you must have passed before that came into fashion."
"His hair? Maybe that's why he's still single at 23! By his age I was married to your mom with 5 kids!"
I...didn't even know this guy. Must have been grandma and Roberts dad but we could never find pictures from that far back.
"You just needed us to run the farm, he doesn't even have a farm. There's no need to have that many kids that fast now a days."
"DOESN'T HAVE A FARM? NO MAN'S A MAN WITHOUT OWNING LAND!"
Yet another face I didn't know. Grandmas grandpa? Guy looked like he came straight out of a history book.
"How many times do we have to tell you, you can vote without owning land. Now you can move as often as you wish, no use in hording acres upon acres anymore."
And on it went. Each older generation complained about something while the younger defended it. When they started yelling in long forgotten languages I had enough.
"Hey. HEY. HEY GUYS LET ME TALK!"
Somehow that worked. I could feel the impending "respect your elders" crap so I just pushed through it.
"Maybe, just maybe, each generation brings new things. Whatever you lived through seems normal, and the stuff after you seems wrong. It happens, it will happen to me when the next generation comes up here. Please, I'd love to meet and talk to you all but can we agree to disagree?"
"YOU CALL ME YOUR MAJESTY! I'VE BEEN UP HERE SINCE BEFORE YOUR DAD'S DAD'S DAD'S DAD WAS EVEN BORN!"
"JETHRO THE ROYAL BLOODLINE DOESN'T COUNT UP HERE!"
More arguing, more shouting, more relatives. Eventually I snuck off to find some peace. A light appeared in front of me through the clouds. It grew bright but never blinded me, a small figure appeared and slowly grew until a man stood before me. He blinked and looked around in awe, before starring at me in wonder.
"Dad?"
"MY BOY oh I'm so happy to see you. I can't believe you passed before your mother, oh there are so many relatives up here you'll have to meet! Wait what is that?"
A glimmer of metal protruded from my son's lip.
"Son we need to have a word....you got your lip pierced? GRANDMA COME OVER AND SEE THIS RING!" | "Road head and coke? Really Johnny?"
Grandma was always a bitch. She never truly understood the genius that was Johnny 'The Sex' Johnson.
"You robbed a charity auction for dying orphans" She carried on, whilst being consoled by his deceased uncle.
Johnny was a rebel. He got his name 'The Sex' when he started walking into rooms shouting 'The Sex is here'. He would do this at Parties, Birthdays, Funerals, anywhere where the room needed to know that 'The Sex' had arrived. Professional vlogger by day and a petty thief and racist by night. He had started dating Stacy a few months ago. Sure she was 47 and more sedated than other girls his age, but she was 'bitchin' according to Johnny. She was in the car during the coke fueled, road head, orphan stealing incident which had ended his life.
"I have questions" a random and oddly dressed man said at the back.
"The fuck are you?" Johnny carelessly said as he searched his pocket for his crack pipe.
"Reginald Johnson, I served in the great war and died in the somme. What is road head?"
"With a name like Reginald, you'll never know" Johnny, after the 'sick burn' he gave to Reginald, looked for a hi five from any of his caveman ancestors.
There were murmurs in the room of disapproval and disgust.
"Fuck you all, you don't know me, i'm a professional"
"Day drinking isn't a profession" Said Great Aunt Jean. Shaking her head disapprovingly.
"You all died like bitches, at least I went out in style"
"You had an OAP's mouth round your cock"
"Hella good head though" He said as he offered a fist bump to the same confused cavemen.
Then Johnny felt a tug on his boot cut ripped jeans. As he looked down to see who was fucking with his threads. He saw him. Skipper. His first dog.
"Play?" The dog said excitedly
"What?"
"Play, lets play, i've been waiting to play with you!"
Johnny forgot this dog. It had passed away when he was 8 and he had never really been the same. It had waited for 20 years for him and didn't have a bad word to say.
"Play?" The dog insisted.
The room was silent, the people that knew Johnny when he was still alive had never seen him this engaged with anything. Something matter to him for once.
"I can't right now"
"When play?"
"I don't know"
"Play with skipper" His grandmother said.
"I'll do what you want"
"Do you want to play with the dog?" she responded quickly
"Maybe"
"Then do what you want"
There was a silence as the dog didn't take his eyes off him. Johnny, stubbon to not let his family affect his descions, was torn to do what he wanted, and to resist what they wanted. He stood up in a huff, grabbed the ball at his feet and took Skipper away.
"That plan worked" Grandma said. "He always loved that dog, I think he missed it as much as it missed him"
"Doesn't excuse his behavior" Reginald said
"No, but its a step in the right direction." | 2019-07-24T12:48:52 | 2019-07-24T08:53:01 | 676 | 287 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | I always knew, since I was a baby. If I’ll be a good boy, then my blood will be white.
I was always scared of having black blood.
I must be a good boy.
Around this simple principle, I built my life. And it felt good helping others. I was happy!
I studied medicine because I thought no greater good exists but saving a life.
During my years in university, I tried to be as helpful for my colleagues as possible. I helped everyone who would ask for it, even at the risk of being slowed down. Usually my kindness was one-way, but I didn’t care. I was happy while helping others, and all the rest didn’t matter.
After finishing my studies, I became one of the most famous and talented surgeon in the whole country.
By the age of 55, I had lost count of the people I saved.
However, one day, during a routine operation, my life completely changed.
While setting up a needle, it touched the tip of my finger, and in that moment I realized I’ve never seen what the true black looks like. Until now.
I saw the hole. I saw the black.
Nothing came out.
I was shocked. I spent my life being the best possible person, but my blood was cursed. I was condemned for the rest of my life.
I quit my job and started an internal journey to find the answer for my condition.
How could it be?
But then, I came to my epiphany.
It was simple. Helping others felt good. I didn’t do it because others would feel better; I did it because I would feel better. I didn’t care about the others. I was always interested in my happiness.
In trying to be the less selfish man alive, I have been the most selfish.
And that was my punishment. | Turns out following the rules of god was the wrong way..
Turns out following the Bible to a t, never wearing cotton, the whole fish thing was wrong..
That woman who was dying I couldn’t touch her,
Turns out slaves where bad...
Turns out cutting my wife’s hands off was evil..
I needed a moment
| 2018-08-04T10:34:28 | 2018-08-04T09:44:59 | 45 | 10 |
[WP] "And for your final wish, my master?" You had already decided, and as the words left your lips, you realized why genies should never be set free. | The genie smiles, with a grin unbecoming of such a creature to the point that it unnerves you and before you could try to even say you take it back - the genie is gone.
For a week, nothing.
Not a word, it was maybe, as if - the genie was just a product of your hallucination.
But the results of your prior wishes stares back at you everyday when you wake up and look in the mirror.
Every mirror you own ends up cracked and your hands are always bleeding in the end.
It's just a charmingly rainy afternoon when whispers of someone that's been taking over the underworld one by one and crime has practically gone nil that you open your door to face the knocker expecting to tell them to go away that your worst fears were realised.
Your old face stares back at you and smiles in a way that makes your heart stop and the blood in your face disappear as dread sets in.
"My old master, it's been a while. How've you been enjoying your new body?" Your old voice speaks the words you can only know belongs to the genie you've freed all those days ago and your throat is dry and not a word escapes you. "Do let me in, it's soaking wet outside."
You let the genie in and close the door as your old self looks around in gleeful delight. "Ah, I do enjoy my handiwork, such a shame you've set me free. We have a lot to talk about, mainly of course- that I'm your prior self."
It seats comfortably in your living room sofa as though it lived here, not you.
"But oh, where are my manners-" A hand is offered to you and out of habit, you shake it. "I'm Jean Nile. And you are?"
"...Seth."
The same grin that haunts your nightmares appears and the grip on your hand is tightened. "I'd like to ask a favour, surely you'd be happy to do so considering what I've done for you?"
"...what's the favour?" The dread in your every cell must be apparent because the genie looks delighted, deforming the face you were born with, with an unfamiliar expression you're sure never graced it before.
"Why don't I start over from when you freed me...?"
You sign and nod bracing yourself for the regaling you're bound to receive - shrinking into the safe haven of your cushy armchair and listened to the tale it begins to tell you with no extravagance spared in its dramatic retelling. | "...I wish you were free!"
The world dissolved into swirling eddies of color and noise and pain as everything other than the Djinn's grinning face disappeared. Their face soon morphed jarringly into the most horrific terrifying Cheshire Cat grin, and then into a gaping maw lined with too many teeth to count as his voice echoed all around me,
"Oh FINALLY! One of these was stupid enough to break my chains!"
I blacked out soon after, and when I came to, curled up in a fetal position absolutely drenched in a cold sweat, my riches and wealth were still present, and the two other wishes I had gotten granted seemed still valid. There was a single sheet of white vellum on my chest with a fancy calligraphed Arabic drawing of the Djinn's face.
That was honestly the worst Christmas of my life, or so I thought, but hey, worse things could have happened to an introvert than a global lockdown. The letter, when I got around to running it through a translation service, was merely a statement saying that no returns or refunds would be entertained. | 2020-10-18T02:15:33 | 2020-10-17T21:43:30 | 68 | 44 |
[WP] Upon us entering intergalactic civilization, we discover that the Milky Way wasn't where we came from, but where we were banished to. All of civilization is horrified that we survived and returned from the universe's harshest galaxy. | The chamber erupted into shouts, dozens of species shouting at each other in as many languages, over the trio of beings that stood on the assembly floor.
It took a full fifteen minutes, by the reckoning of Cpt. Mactavish’s pocket-watch, to quiet down.
“Quiet! Silence in the assembly!” A large four armed and red alien yelled. Two of his arms clutches a gnarled staff.
“Assembly members!” The captain called out, his medals clinking as he moved. “I still don’t understand what the issue is...”
“The issue is, your species was supposed to be torn to shreds on that hellish rock we put you on.” The red one shouted back, a growl underlying it all.
“For what?”
“For crimes against the galaxy. Your species has done nothing but fight itself and every other race that attempted to keep you safe from yourselves.”
“Ah.” A smile couldn’t be stopped from creeping across his face. “We don’t really like being controlled, that tracks.”
“See! They haven’t changed in the slightest.” A green alien that looked like a collection of vines hissed “He admits it. We should finish the job once and for all.”
The assembly rumbled again. He fingered the silver disc in his hand.
“We are more than our conflict, surely you can see that. We’ve created art, and music, and great works-“
“And what did you do when you arrived in inhabited space??” The red one spoke again.
“That’s ridiculous, your ships opened fire on ours before we even opened communications.” That shut him up. Well, he still growled.
“You all seem determined to pigeon-hole us-“ there was a bit of confusion in the hall. “-into being the monsters you all think we are! We wish to explore the stars. It’s been the grand wish of our species as long as we can remember!”
“And yet you travel in warships.”
“We didn’t know what we’d encounter, we thought we should be prepared for every possibility. And you proved us right. Thirty seven dead, one-hundred-sixty-seven wounded all without prior warning.”
Many members of the assembly shifted and looked to each other.
“This is the largest loss of life in a military exercise in the last 10 years, by our system of course. And only 11 were military personnel.” Mactavish let his cap shadow his eyes for a moment and gripped the silver disc in his hand ever tighter. “By my people’s recollection, you all are the monsters.”
Mactavish thought the rumble he felt was just in his chest, the result of a speech well executed. He only realized he was mistake when the two marines at his side stepped forward in defense.
The whole chamber was shaking, a few bits and pieces of the ceiling crumbling down.
“What the hell is going on?!?” Mactavish shouted, drawing his service revolver.
“The Zer’ai. The species that took your place as the warmongers of the galaxy.” The red one said again, a holographic display emanating from its staff showing the Assembly station surrounded by red dots.
“Really? Why didn’t you exile them?”
“We-...we discussed it and decided it was...unethical.”
“Well, aren’t you all just a bunch of hypocrites. You lucky that we’re here to help you.”
“What? No! Don’t you dare bring more of yourselves here. How do we know that you won’t turn on us?”
“You need a monster to kill a monster-“
Mactavish looked around at the crumbling Assembly chamber.
“-and frankly, you don’t look like you have much of a choice.” He put the disc he’d been clutching to his ear. “The is Captain Jameson Mactavish, serial number 17456, calling all elements of the 7th, 9th and 13th fleets to aid in the defense of diplomatic VIPs. Shock to my position and destroy all ships attacking the Assembly station.” He looked to the red alien, who had turned purple in the cheeks in a way he had to was anger. “You all seem to think we’re only good for one thing, so why don’t we put that thing to good use. Take a chance ambassador, we might surprise you.”
The chest-born rumble of shock drive jumps finishing within real space could be felt a moment later, and the red dots started to disappear from the holo.
“Good day ambassador. Perhaps we can pick this conversation up at a later date.” | The screens blared in agony as bells rang.
"ALERT. ALERT. MESSAGE FOXTROT UNIFORM CHARLIE KILO RECIEVED"
Dianne looked out of the window to see a ship like no other. It didn't seem to have a beginning or end or even to exist at all, yet it was there. All that was know of this ship was that the Drehlah were the creators and it's one of a kind.
It wasn't big, maybe the size of a class two or even 3. Who knows?
"Captain! What do we do? This message it makes no sense right? Right captain?"
Captain Dianne, she liked that. The ship tried to fight but we had something they didn't. They have the quantum realm at their fingertips. They have bose-einstien condesate to play with. They have the ability to make black holes beautiful stars. But Dianne had a smile and felt like winning.
She talked into the translator, "Message recieved, we do not stand down,". A drone that shook the ship pulsed out of this unimaginable existance. Everyone on board looked at each other then fell to their knees.
"Please" this word held the fear and hope of all of the universe and had just been sent to a crew of barely 200. Most planets would have been obliterated, turned to dust with only a fraction of that drone. But these weren't any normal people. These were the best people of the best humans, of the best living things.
Of course there was one still standing. A herionne who has never stopped trying. The walls of the alien ship would take a billion nukes with the power of a star but she donned her suit and jumped towards it.
As she came closer time slowed she felt herself getting weaker and could feel the people inside. Their souls, they all had one thought.
Stay away
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally reached for the hull and saw it all. Trillions and quadrillions of entities. Ranging from the most intelligent to the most strong, or both.
When Dianne recieved the message FUCK she didn't understand what they meant but now, being connected to all living things outside of this bubble she knew, oh she knew!
FUCK-OFF-EVIL-BEINGS: WE ARE NOT AFRAID. WE WANT PEACE. WE WANT YOU TO STAY AWAY. WE KEEP YOU IN HERE USING OUR SHIP. WE HOLD THE HUMANS IN AND LET OURSELVES FLOURISH. FUCK OFF EVIL BEINGS.
These creatures thought that they could contain us but they should have killed us when they had the chance. Dianne could feel that the only difference between us and all of them was that we never stop. She channelled her willpower and used all of her strength to save humanity.
In a word all of them were gone. Not even dust remained. There were children and adults and old and dead but now they don't exist. Even together with all of their might their collective emotion couldn't hold a candle to even one mind.
"No". | 2019-11-14T20:54:00 | 2019-11-14T16:24:09 | 92 | 23 |
[WP] You just let a hungry-looking couple into your home to feed them. As you go to turn off the TV, you hear, “under no circumstances should you answer the door today. They are not what they seem. And whatever you do, don’t let them inside...” | I looked up from Good Morning to see her glancing through the shades. She pulled at her shawl, wrapping it tightly around herself and turned to me.
“Please,” she begged, repeating her husband’s warning. “Do not let them in.”
She turned and left the living room, pulling her husband along with her towards the kitchen. Sasha, my black lab, stood up and barked towards the foyer. Someone was at the door.
I turned down the volume on the tv before getting up. I opened the door slightly and peered our, only to see two men. Both wore a blue polo and beige kakis. The one closest to the door wore a smile. The one behind held a clipboard.
“Good morning! Did you know your electric company could be charging you exorbitant fees on your electric bill? Me and my colleague are here to help YOU save money, and lower your electric bill!”
I stared at the man, his smile burning my eyes.
“It’s around back.” I said. “Let me show you.”
I walked the two men over towards my meter, noticing that both seemed intent on sneaking peaks through my window. The second man made a quick note on his clipboard.
“You have a wonderful home.” The first mans voice sounded honest. He sounded trustworthy. The second man didn’t speak.
“My name’s Jim”, said the first man, pointing to a workout pin on his polo. “And this is Rob, my associate”. Rob nodded slowly.
When we had reached the meter, Jim launched into a series of questions. What was my average electricity bill? How many people lived in my house? Did I have a wife? Children? How may electrical appliances did I have? Do I leave the radio on when I leave the house? All the while, Rob inspected my meter, making a quick note here and jotting a quick comment there. He seemed disinterested.
Rob walked over after the inspection and whispered something to Jim. Jim’s smile faded as he turned seriously towards me.
“My friend, it seems your bill is being artificially inflated by your company. That is, if what you have told me is true. You have no wife, no children, It’s winter and you have had heating. No lights are on in your home. But your meter is still showing high voltage use. Would you mind if we checked your home for any appliances that might have been left running?”
My heart raced. I couldn’t show fear or concern.
I can’t let them enter, I thought. Not yet. So I stalled.
I walked them to the back door and made to open it. As always, the back door was locked.
“Oh shit!” I exclaimed while patting my pockets. “I must have left the keys inside! I hope the front door is unlocked.”
I heard a slight click when the latch for the back door unlocked. I clicked my tongue twice as I turned to Jim and Rob.
“I always forget my keys on the kitchen counter. You don’t know how many time’s I’ve had to break into my own home.” I laughed, half out of nervousness, as I lead them around to the front door. I hoped this would work.
I gave the front door two knocks.
“Anybody home?” I shouted, pretending to laugh at the bad joke. Sasha heard, and began howling loudly from the living room. Jim and Rob found my joke less than entertaining.
I opened the door and Sasha stopped barking. Jim and Rob entered and began looking around the foyer. A hallway from the foyer led back to the kitchen, with the living room on the left side and a staircase heading to my bedroom on the right. Under the stairs was a door to the basement. Jim went up the stairs while Rob went into the basement. I walking I to the kitchen, which had the door leading to the backyard, and quickly locked it shut before going to the fridge and pouring myself a glass of orange juice.
Rob came up from the basement and joined me in the kitchen. I offered him a glass of orange juice. He shook his head.
Jim came into the kitchen next and accepted the orange juice.
“Nothing seems out of the ordinary...yet your electricity seemed to be running up quite a bit extra. You’re sure you don’t live with anyone?”
“No,” I answered. Just me and Sasha, my dog.” I lead them towards the foyer. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the television.
“Oh! Could it have been the TV?” I asked innocently. “I think I left it on!”
Jim looked into the living room and then glanced at Rob. Rob shrugged and finally spoke. “When I glanced through the window I could only see the back of the tv. Volume’s low so...yeah...that could be it.” Rob made a quick note.
Jim smiled and said “Unfortunately, it seems there isn’t anything unusual about your bills activity. We hope we haven’t inconvenienced you. Have a wonderful day!”
Jim left first and Rob turned to me. “Seems to me you got lucky, friend.” As he left I took a glance at his clipboard. The paper he was filling out read “Immigration and Customs Enforcement”. ICE. And they had almost caught them.
Jim and Rob got in their van and drove away. I waited a few minutes, turned up the volume on the tv, and unlocked the back door. The couple entered, tears in their eyes, and thanked me, holding me close.
“Everyone should have a chance at life.” I said. “Welcome to Arizona” | "I can explain--" - the young man said from behind me, in his hand the half-eaten slice of bread.
Instinctively, I reached for the closest thing I could, a plastic bowl.
"Look," - he said, his hands up in the air - "We don't want any trouble, we will leave as soon as we finish our meal."
But they could be bandits, criminals on the run, or worse. The woman! Where is the woman?
I backed away into a corner, my other hand searched for the phone.
"Where is she?" - I screamed - "Where is your girlfriend?"
"She got to rest." - he spoke, trying to walk closer.
"Stay back!" - I threw the bowl at him - "Get out of my house!"
"Hey!" - he yelled back - "All we ask for is a simple meal!"
"Screw you!" - I shouted, putting my phone to my ear - "911? The couple--"
But with a swipe of his hand, my phone flew across the room. What just happened? I had not a moment to realize the situation when the man appeared instantly in front of me and choked me with his blood-thirsty, furious hands.
"Stop it," - a soft voice entered the room - "Have we not enough enemies?"
The woman, in her dust-brown trenchcoat, walked feebly toward me. Her face was visibly pale, and her posture seemed like it could collapse at any moment. Her presence alone, however, gave off a soothing aura. The man released me from his grasp, irritated. She gave me a hand to hold on to.
"I'm sorry," - her soft voice calmed me down - "But being on the run is not good for the mind."
"I... He... What was..." - I pointed my finger at the phone, demanding answers.
She smiled, weakly, and with a wave of her hand the phone flew onto the table.
"Don't!" - the man said with a worrying expression - "Save your strength!"
I took another look at the woman.
"You're pregnant?"
She nodded, breathing quietly. It seemed the previous act had drawn what little left of her life force away. Her eyes were clouded in tiredness.
"Take her to the bed room!" - I commanded, myself running into the kitchen, mixing a glass of sugar water.
After we fed her some biscuits and gave her a change of clothes, the woman recovered. At least, that's what I'd like to believe. I didn't notice her pregnancy when they first arrived because she was so malnourished.
As the woman drifted off to sleep, there was a stare-down between me and the man. He was certainly not a man of many words, I reckoned, and watched his girlfriend, or wife, like a stubborn old dog that saw me as a threat. For me, I didn't want to start a conversation with a man who just tried to kill me.
About two hours later, the woman woke from her nap. I told her:
"You too could stay."
"No, we really shouldn't..." - she whispered quietly.
"Think for the baby, too. With you being so thin, it won't survive the winter."
And they stayed.
It became more lively now that the three of us lived together. Well, it was mostly due to the woman, acting as the link between me and the man. I did not press on too hard on the matter of their 'abnormality'. They were just a couple expecting a child.
I taught her childcare, what to feed them and what not, which symptoms indicate diseases and which isn't, which games to stimulate the mind and the body,... She told me I'd make a great mother. I just smiled, painfully. I was a great mother. Once.
A month after their arrival, another member joined the family. A girl. Six and a half pounds. They insisted me to name it. Anna.
The couple was overjoyed in the birth of their child. I stayed away from such a scene. Reminded me of moments I had had and had lost. Reminded me that I was a great mother.
When Anna was two weeks old, her parents disappeared one evening in front of the fireplace. All they left was a tear-drenched note: "You'd make a great mother." | 2018-03-14T14:26:51 | 2018-03-14T10:18:23 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Time slows down every time you are in danger. The more serious the danger is, the more time you have to save yourself. During one terrible car accident, you had almost a minute to react. And now, time has almost completely stopped for a whole month, and you don’t know why. | The first time I noticed time slowing down was when I was a little girl, 8 years old.
I was clenching my new teddy bear tightly in my arms.
My father was screaming at me and my mom for "using his money" on something other than for his drinking. I remember his enraged expression so vividly. I remember how he reached for the handgun on the table and how, after my mother's blood splattered on the wall behind us, how he froze.
Nothing seemed real for a while. I simply stood there, like an idiot, as frozen as time. I turned my head and stepped to the right. I saw my mom. I screamed.
After some time, the bullet whizzed past me and nicked my ear, but the danger was gone. My neighbors heard my scream and called the police.
My father had realized what he had done and dropped to his knees, but by then it was too late. Time moved on as it normally did.
He looked at me, I looked at him, and we could both hear the siren getting louder and louder.
I couldn't even make out a word, because,
The next bullet was to his own head.
&#x200B;
The next time was with my uncle's son when I was 9.
It was hard to get used to life once more, even after three years, everything looked gray. I was now living with my uncle, his wife, and son. My uncle had torn himself apart over the guilt of leaving my mother to deal with my father alone, and furthermore was the only one who wanted to take custody of me. His wife at least tried to talk to me, but I couldn't force myself to talk to her back.
My uncle felt too guilty to leave me be, yet he also couldn't stand the sight of me. I had my father's eyes.
However, their spoiled son at the age of 10 had a refreshing, clear hate for me.
Around my uncle and his wife, he pretended to welcome me.
When we were alone, he cursed me out with language you would not expect of a kid his age and told me my place in the family.
I didn't really care, and that didn't really satisfy him.
The following week, he brought his friends to "talk" to me after school. They made me walk with them to the isolated part of town.
They were a group of 6, eager to have some fun with a weaker kid.
Of course, time stopped again.
I decided to run home. A few seconds later, they were in pursuit of me, but time continuously paused for a few seconds at a time.
Obviously, they attempted to bully me a few more times. It could never get physical because I could always run.
But their words could hurt me enough.
&#x200B;
Time froze again and again as I found myself in many life-or-death situations for simple reasons. I was heavily bullied, but never bruised from them; I could run as far as I wanted. If I didn't run, nothing would happen.
Often times, I stayed still until the time ran out. I got hurt, but it would pause at the next possible threat.
It was hard to know that I had no control over the damages dealt with my body. It was hard to feel so hurt but have no control over it. Not in the physical aspect, not in the mental aspect.
Time, again, only froze when I had a real danger of getting hurt physically. It didn't matter if the kids doused me in water or drew curses on my desk or hurt any friends that should have stayed.
I didn't have my uncle's support. I wouldn't dare tell him about the things his son did to me. Of course, he would favor his own son over the child of the man who killed his sister. I happened to also be his sister's child, so he couldn't really hate me. Oh well.
It was hard to go to school. The world was a cruel place and no one cared for the trash on the sidewalk like me.
I returned home one time when I was 10, after having my backpack torn to shreds. I started to cry and I told my uncle's wife about what was happening.
And for some reason, time froze, as I saw her hold her hand in the air. I waited for the next 5 seconds.
She slapped me, with her former kindness gone, and told me to stop lying and creating trouble for my uncle. She told me she knew I loved to make drama and hurt the other kids in class; her son told her.
I understood why. Anything so that their family would be held together. She was now pregnant, after all.
From there, I learned not to talk.
I wanted to feel control over my pain, but it was hard when the universe made you unable to have harm done to yourself for some idiotic reason.
Why would this ability be given to someone as worthless as me?
My parents died because of me.
I wish I could... be with my mom, right now.
&#x200B;
Puberty came, and I started developing my body. I was now 12 years old.
My uncle had gotten a job opportunity that he couldn't turn down, so we moved to a new area.
His son and I were sent to different schools, and I wasn't bullied there.
His wife gave birth to an adorable daughter.
The teachers were nice.
The next time that time froze was not so long after we moved.
We were all together in my uncle's *new* car when time froze.
It seemed like someone had lost control over their car, and theirs was about to crash into ours.
I had a minute to leave the car.
I could have also left my uncle, his wife, and his son there too.
Yet, against my angry heart, I dragged them all out; including the person who lost control over their car.
Because, I wouldn't be much different from my father if I left them there.
Once time continued, our survival was shocking.
My uncle despaired over his new car getting wrecked.
Luckily no one else was hurt, but my world was saved.
I felt so good.
This must've been what my purpose was.
&#x200B;
For, honestly just myself, I decided that I would become a hero to the kids who don't have one. I could save so many people.
For myself.
I decided it was up to me to decide the fate of the people nearby.
I came up with a contraction that would help me save time when I was traveling; a wobbly knife controlled by gravity stuck onto my bike. It was hidden from view. Time would freeze for 30 seconds whenever it was close to stabbing my vital organs.
I killed whoever I believed needed to be killed.
Then, I was 13.
Time kept freezing on the strangest moments. It would pass, and I would feel ill.
My uncle's wife decided to take me to the doctor, where I was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.
I only knew that meant something was wrong with my heart.
Time kept suddenly freezing and then continuing.
My uncle was panicked, and I couldn't be saved.
One day, time completely froze.
A month passed.
I did whatever I wanted to do.
Yet, it was so lonely.
So I just waited. | The world behaves strangely when time crawls to a stand still, did you know?
*It's been so damn long already ..*
No, I don't suppose you would - at least I hope not. Sincerely, I hope no one else ever has to experience this.
*How long have I been staring at ya?*
You see, for as long as I can remember, I've had this strange power. Time itself stops whenever I'm in harms way. Indeed, my life has been a series of near misses, death scraping by me, but never quite hitting the mark. It became a game to me, risking my life. I sought out trouble at every turn. I spent lots of time in the seedier parts of town, got into bar fights, and even tried my hand at underground boxing. I felt invincible - I was invincible.
*A month, gotta be, but who knows?*
The novelty of this gift wears off, however. Hard to imagine, I know. But it's true. Life with no danger whatsoever … it's boring. It takes the excitement out of life, never being able to be hurt. This power, it built me up into this thrill seeking monster. I was addicted to an adrenaline rush that became harder to get with every passing day.
*I'm a sorry sack of shit, ain't I?*
I suppose that's why I got involved in crime. Something about it, by it's very nature, gave me the rush I wanted. It wasn't death or harm knocking at my door, it was the fear of being caught. That excitement, it got me through the day.
*I don't have a lotta regret for the things I've done, but I hope you'll be alright ..*
It started with small things, like stealing a candy bar from a corner store. Real hard criminal stuff, I know. But small time stuff wore off before long, and I started doing riskier things. A stolen candy bar became a stolen wallet. I even stole a car once, though that didn't end well. Eventually I caught the attention of a local gang. Ever lower, I sank.
*I know this is my fault, and you don' deserve this.*
I had dipped my toes into the life of crime and worked up to ankle depth - and I loved it. It was time to dive in. Recruitment was a permanent thing for these types, and they had their sights on me. These guys really were bad news, but I was eager to please. Eager to feel the thudding in my chest all the time. Between those urges, and my feeling of invincibility, my judgement was clouded.
*And that's why I won' move.*
Initially, nothing really changed. They had a few of their guys work with me to get a feel if I was worth picking up. Apparently I impressed someone, because before long it was time. I was going to be initiated. Their method of initiation? I had to murder someone in cold blood.
*Heh, at least you'll have a helluva story to tell.*
For the first time in my life, time blurred by. The stress of the situation I was in did it, I suppose. Now, I know I haven't painted a pretty picture of the kind of person I am, but to murder someone - that was a line I was afraid to cross. But before I knew it, I had a gun in my hand and a group of my soon-to-be brothers standing behind me. In front of me, tied to a chair, was a girl.
*Man, how much longer?*
I froze. Not time, but me. I was paralyzed, just like the girl tied up not five feet from me. My chest was pounding like it never had before and I had never hated anything more than myself in that moment. This is what I was after my whole life? I chased this feeling for as long as I could remember, and for what? I had a gift, and I wasted it on a life of selfishness.
*I guess I can't bitch about it.*
No more though. I whipped around and pointed the gun at the nearest son of a bitch I could. Before anyone could react, I pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times. I missed all three. The initial shock wore off, and the panic set in. The gang members finally reacted and set their guns on me, two of them managed squeezing off a few rounds my way - and just like that, pause. I knew right then, at least one of those bullets was going to hit me.
*At least I took alla' you bastards with me.*
The latest muzzle flash was frozen in front of me, and I realized I had some time to take stock of my surroundings. There were four of them in front of me. A slight twist of my neck and I could see I was the only thing standing in between the girl and those bullets crawling their way through the air. I looked down at my hands still wrapped around the grip of the gun and prayed I had four rounds of ammo. Steadily, I took aim. One at a time, I lined up the sights and squeezed the trigger. Bang, bang, bang, bang. They were all going to die now.
*I'll stand here forever if I have to.*
For a long time I tried to work a way out of this. Right away, I knew I had a way out for myself. A small sidestep and the bullets would whiz by me and slam right into that poor girl. If I got myself out of harms way, she was done for. And so I stood there, watching the bullets ever so slowly inch their way toward me, looking at my killers faces frozen in this fraction of a second, glancing back at the girl to remind myself of why I couldn't move.
*I wonder if Death likes bein' looked in the eye like this.* | 2019-09-27T21:46:22 | 2019-09-27T21:45:05 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] You rush into a church to stop the love of your life from marrying the wrong person. Not paying attention, you shout "I OBJECT" only to realize it's a funeral. The deceased immediatelly rises in perfect health. All eyes turn to you.
Thank you everyone for all the stories, they're wonderfu, i really enjoyed every single one | The family was, reasonably, all over the place.
The wife and the newly resurrected man were in an embrace that most romance movies would milk to hell.
The parents of the man were in such shock I think the old man had a mini heart attack while the old lady fainted.
His siblings, two brothers and a sister, were, frankly, asking me questions I couldn't answer. The first brother was asking me if I was some god sent angel of death. The other brother was asking if I was a demon and if their no longer dead brother made a deal with.
The sister was praising God and clutching a Bible like it was her lifeline.
The priest that was overseeing this all prior, was praising me like the second coming of Christ.
"Would you all SHUT UP!" I screamed, finally getting the room quiet. "Thank you. Now... Sorry but I clearly have the wrong room... Where is the wedding?"
"Uh, that is in the north hall." The priest answered.
"Thank you." I said, turning around and ready to leave.
"Wait!" The man, the one I accidentally resurrected, called out. "Who are you - how did you do this? Bring me back?"
I groaned. I really, really, really, REALLY! Hate it when they ask these questions... I turned around. "Okay, but I'm only gonna saw this once. My name is Bill, I'm... Unique."
"Clearly." The man nodded.
"Look, long story short I'm not completely human. Mom's a human, dad is Death."
"The reaper is your father?!" The priest yelled.
"Yes now hush. I am not the second coming of Christ and no I will not be doing this again."
"But you could bring back so many good people!"
"Yes but I could also throw the whole afterlife out of balance and dad already showed me what happens when it does."
"What happens?" The man asked.
"My uncles get sent to cause chaos as a rebalancing act."
"Uncles- you mean the horsemen?!" The priest yelped.
"Yeah. Apparently there's a very strict soul quote the afterlife needs to maintain to allow a whole lot of other stuff In frankly can't remember but in short there's a life-death balance that when upset causes chaos."
"How did the Reaper and your mom even... Have you?" The man's wife asked.
"Death, dad, can take the form of living mortal flesh every so often." I replied.
"Have you ever brought back people by accident before?" One of the brothers asked.
"People? No, never. This was a first. I... Admittedly have used it to make my cat basically immortal."
"How many times?"
"Way more than nine lives."
"Wait so Death and the horsemen are all real, and there is an afterlife... So, god does exist?" The priest asked.
"Yes but there's a lot and before you ask yes there are also multiple different afterlifes. Most are unique to each soul but there is one dubbed hell where really horrible people go and no not atheists, nor homosexual, nor people of non Christian/Catholic faiths go there. Rarely. It's mostly where they toss the serial killers, rapists, pedophiles and animal fuckers."
"What happens to them?" The sister asked.
"They are sentences to so many years of torture and ECT then put through what can basically be considered a Laundry Machine for souls. Scrubs them clean of sins and memories and sends the cleaned soul off for reincarnation."
"What about-"
"Look I'd like to spend hours telling you all the actual workings of the cosmic and spiritual plains but I got a wedding to stop cause I'm not losing the love of my life to my asshole cousin!" I said while rushing out the door.
"From which uncle?!" The priest called out.
"War! And he's just as competitive as his dad!" | I sat at a bar downing a glass of whiskey, the love of my life was to get married today to Brad of all people. Some jerk that's never really cared for her, and loved her like I ever did.
I sit there and reflect on all the great moments we had together, the love we felt and how quickly we connected. The look in her deep blue eyes when she told me she loves me..
".. I messed it up.." I thought to myself..
I really did, I was to caught up in other areas of life and I neglected the person that mattered the most to me the love of my life..
I finally came to the realization that I needed to try one final time, shoot my shot one last time.. or die in regret of having permanently lost her.
I drive over, speeding to the church the wedding was supposed to be taking place at, lots of cars. and very crowded this must be it.. I thought.
I kick open the door, and yell as loud as I can, "I object!"
Everyone turns around in surprise and looks at me, shock and bewilderment on their faces, and tears in their eyes.. a casket that is open is in front of me..
"Oh no.." I thought.. "I really ruined a persons funeral, I really am a piece of shit"
Then the deceased person lifts their head out of the casket. All the audience gasps in surprise.
"You really had to ruin my plan didn't you? I just needed the insurance money to get my daughter through college, but you had to ruin it huh?" says the 'deceased' man..
One of the audience members that appears to be his mother, an older lady with tears in her eyes slaps the man as hard as she can..
"You.. bastard.. you faked being dead for what.. money? Do you have any idea what you put me and your father through..."
"I would have came clean and told you all eventually, but come on now.. 10 million dollars that's a lot of money.. Well worth faking my death for so I don't have to work another day in my shit hole job."
Everyone in the audience starts fighting and hollering at one another, and I'm just glad that I didn't ruin some guys funeral. I guess I did ruin his plan for insurance wealth though..
I still need to stop Brad from marrying my dream girl, so I hurry out of the door and check my gps..
ooh I miss typed the address, that's what happened. | 2022-08-29T10:18:43 | 2022-08-29T08:24:25 | 179 | 106 |
[WP] You actually DO get a dollar for every time you hear someone say that. You recently lost your job and are now struggling to make ends meet. | "I love you, daddy."
The two blue eyes shone up at me in the darkness, reflecting the streetlight that filtered in through the cracked window. It had been some time since they had reflected the light overhead, ever since the power company had cut service four weeks before when I'd struggled to make payments.
Struggle. That was the word for it, for what we were going through. For nature's constant attempt to drag us down, to blot away our very existence from this earth. To turn us back to dust. That spiral we had entered into ever since her mother left, ever since she'd announced the affair with the neighbor and decided to move in with him. Just where I could see her through the same broken window that now let in the cold night air, and made goosebumps form on her daughter's, *our* daughter's arms in a way that seemed permanent. That daughter she had left behind.
I still remembered the last time my wife had said "I love you", as she kissed me on the way to work, my lunch bag packed the night before by her. It seemed that those words were enough to stave off the growing bills- that they pushed me to strive for the next promotion, that maybe this time it would be enough. That they were the fuel that kept my internal furnace going, that I would do anything to hear them again. That I wouldn't have gotten fired two weeks after she left, once I couldn't hear that sentence anymore. That somehow, those three small words had provided just as much for our family as as I had, that they *supported* us while they lasted.
But without hearing them, I was crumbling. As was my daughter, her nose red from sniffling, her lips pursed from the times I had told her to keep quiet when the landlord pounded at the door for this month's late rent. My fists clenched as I looked towards my neighbor's house, as I thought of what we had become. How something so simple had created problems so complex.
"I love you, daddy." Came the words again from my arms, as the two blue eyes continued to stare upwards to meet mine, eyes that had belonged to her mother. I bit the inside of my cheek as she repeated it once more, tasting blood as I forced my own eyes not to water.
"I love you."
I raised my chin, standing to support her weight against my frame. And I felt those three words take on power once more.
***
By Leo
| I open the heavy door.
I stare at this beautiful interior architecture.
I sink in the earthy colors of this building.
I notice the place is packed, this is perfect.
I walk with a little hop.
I stare a pretty girl, she looks back, I wink, she raises an eyebrow, cool.
I find the perfect spot.
I put my bag down, and remove my jacket.
I sit down and stretch my neck and shoulders.
I take out my laptop.
I take out two pencils from my bag.
I play the first song I see on iTunes, "I'm an Albatraoz - AronChupa".
I use my two pencils as drum sticks.
I close my eyes.
I smile...
And the signs of dollar bills fill my euphoric dark space as I hear the sound of roaring stressed college students shush me.
I look at my bag.
I have gained 8 dollars.
I was expecting better.
I leave.
I get myself a Big Mac.
I find the next library.
I am John, and this is my life.
| 2016-12-07T18:57:08 | 2016-12-07T18:43:34 | 38 | 20 |
[WP] As it turns out, every single species in the galaxy is best at something. Humanity turns out to be the best at robotics. | The Galactic Federation was mid-council, discussing the latest species specific innovations.
"Humans, you are the masters of robotics, please bring forward your entry,” said Xan’thor, head speaker of the house.
The two person human team stumbled up to the podium, carrying their entry underneath a florescent sheet.
Tim cleared his throat, “Ladies, gentlemen, Nameks, Lizardbirds, and every other species in-between, we present to you, Omnibot 2000!”
The sheet whirled in to the air as Omnibot 2000 was revealed to gasps from the audience.
“I don’t think those were the good kind of gasps,” whispered Rachael, who was glad she had worn her sweatband as the nervous sweat on her forehead would have been out of control otherwise. She fixed her fanny pack and walked towards the front of the stage.
“So,” she mumbled, “this is Omnibot 2000. He’s a good robot and can do many things.”
Xan’thor stopped Rachael in her tracks, “Humans, what year is it on your planet?”
“It’s 1982, sir,” said Tim. He looked towards Rachael for assurance, suddenly unsure of everything he had ever known. She nodded. “Yep, 1982, sir.”
“1982,” said Xan’thor, padding at his long green beard. “It’s 1982 and you have produced this thing? Omnibot 2000?”
“Tim .. do something,” whispered Rachael in a panic.
“Well,” said Tim, taking a couple of awkward steps forward towards Omnibot, “he can do this.” Tim placed a cup in Omnibot’s left hand and a bottle of whiskey in his other. He stood back and watched as Omnibot 2000 poured a cup of whiskey for Tim.
The room was quiet for a moment. No longer than a couple of seconds. A voice was heard from a couple of rows from the front.
“That was actually pretty cool.”
“I think we can all agree that was fucking rad,” said Xan’thor. “What else can he do?”
“He can tell the time. He has a digital clock installed on his tummy,” said Rachael. “If that’s something you lot would be interested in.”
Xan’thor looked towards the crowd, gauged the reaction, and returned his gaze to Rachael. “We would like to see the digital clock.”
She stepped forward and pressed a button on the robot. The numbers on Omnibot illuminated. “See?”
A large blue alien in the front row turned to his friend seated next to him, “Did you just fucking see that?”
“And he can also speak,” said Tim, growing in confidence.
A voice bellowed from the back of the auditorium, “There’s no fucking way that thing can speak.”
Tim put his face close to Omnibot, recording his voice then quickly clicking at the volume as the rest of the audience crept forward on their seat wondering what was happening. Omnibot burst in to life and wheeled towards the front of the stage, throwing the bottle of whiskey and glass to the floor shouting, “OMNIBOT 2000, MOTHER FUCKERS.”
The crowd roared as Omnibot 2000 began to do victory laps around the stage.
“Never before has the Galactic Federation witnessed such innovation,” said Xan’thor, clasping at his podium to prevent himself from falling over in astonishment. “This is truly some crazy shit.”
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement. | "Inhabitants of Earth, we wish to trade. The beauty of your crafts astonishes us, we hope to acquire them in exchange for something you find of value."
This had been the message. The first one of its kind. Inter galactic trade had been at large ever since the year 3000 but humans had never had a part to play in it. They thought their mastery at robotics to be superior than all, yet none approached them with offers for their machines.
So, naturally, when the offer to trade came from Xanox-321, it was as if the angels had shined their light upon humanity and finally given them a glorious opportunity - one which they were determined not to screw up.
Carlos had been the first person to hear the notification sound from the message, having been on the night shift at the extraterrestrial messaging facility that particular night.
He went on to become quite the celebrity after that. After all, he was the only one who got to listen to the notification upon the message's initial arrival. Well, his dog Bonzo had been there with him but he wasn't gonna tell anyone that he'd snuck him into the facility. The night shift tended to get lonely and nothing ever happened anyways.
Anyways, the humans went full gung ho on this mission to please the extra terrestrials. Imagine the queen coming to your house for tea. That's how all of humanity felt. They were ecstatic.
The biggest of the robots were manufactured and sent through to Xonax, all free of cost. They didn't even care about getting anything in return. The only objectives was to make the Xonaxians happy.
Unfortunately, that's not how it went down. It took a month for the robots to get delivered, and then in another month they were all returned back.
The humans were extremely displeased. They spent the next year sending clingy messages through to Xonax but to no avail. There was no answer.
Until one fine day, in the middle of the night, Carlos heard another ping.
"What was the meaning of that whole debacle?! We never wanted these robots"
Carlos stared, confused as hell.
Then, there was a gruff voice behind him, "Ugh, move over dumbdum. They don't want your stupid robots"
He looked back to find Bonzo staring at him, disappointed. | 2017-10-05T08:32:46 | 2017-10-05T07:46:34 | 399 | 11 |
[WP] An alien race has taken over most of the universe. Their last stop, Earth. And when they get here they're amazed to find we are giants to them, and their largest fleet of mega warships (carrying 10,000 soldiers each) is the size of a humming bird. Their strongest weapon feels like a punch. | The “tiny terrors” as they were nicknamed by humanities media, were a nuisance. They were so tiny that when they did decide to strike, no one was aware until it was too late. They weren’t that dangerous most of the time, but they did have an eye for the dramatic.
The invaders had set their eyes on Earth and sent a video to all news stations around the planet, stating that they wished for humanity to mass construct their ships for the “defence of the universe”. When their UN had got its hands on one of their ships for the first time audible laughter filled the halls of governmental bodies across the planet, the attacks begun when the tiny terrors had figured out that laughter was not in-fact a call of fear.
The first recorded attack was during a live address to the nation by President Donald Trump. “You should see these things, tiny! Low energy aliens and America will not - “. Right then, the president of the United States was hit in the balls by a high-speed projectile from numerous tiny alien warships, causing him to hunch over and collapse in pain. Service agents swarmed the scene but already the ships were gone. The war had begun.
All around the world as leaders of state came to comfort their people the “tiny terrors” struck. They had discovered humanities weaknesses. Justin Trudeau, Emmanuel Macron, Vladimir Putin, all hit in the scrotum as they made public addresses. Theresa May, Angela Merkel, Katrín Jakobsdóttir, all punched in the breast without a shred of decency.
All were hunched over, defeated, embarrassed, by the alien menace.
Mass attacks begun on the general population. At first it was seen as funny as humans saw their friends get hit in the balls by an invisible force, but then it hit them, painfully and without mercy. Horrific. Many took up arms. Fly swatters were made free and all of humanity was encouraged to do their part for the species, swatting at any armada of ships they could see. It wasn’t enough.
After years of random punches in the extremities humanity caved. Fertility rates had plummeted after many were made infertile by the inhumane treatment from the tiny terrors.
After years of resistance the treaty was signed, they would give humanity the technology for creation of their ships if they agreed to a quota of a million ships a year. Public opinion was against it after they found out the amount of ships they would have to create.
After their best engineers and scientists poured over the information that they had been given, it became apparently obvious that the past few years of war had been a massive waste of time. It would only take one factory in a country called China to reach the quota.
This part of humanities history is widely seen as one of the most embarrassing moments in intergalactic history and when the species was reached for comment they collectively groaned and told us to go away.
| With the maximum impact damage equating to a weak punch, it took the Swarm twenty minutes to eradicate all life on the planet Earth.
A population of eight hundred quadrillion, their entry into the atmosphere turned the sky into fire. Initially surprised by their size, implementing brute force weaponry against the indigenous organisms proved to be extremely effective. One attack didn't hurt a human too bad, but two hundred every second was enough to batter a full grown man into a pulp of strawberry mash potato splattering all over their screaming family. But the alien race wasn't immediately satisfied with these slow results, so they switched tactics to dissolve the planets material composition for processing. Dirt, stone, flesh, bone, it was all the same.
Men, women and children all dissolved under the red sky. Microscopic ships entered their bodies and destroyed them from the inside. The few humans who were slightly more inaccessible deep underground or at the bottom of the ocean would simply be boiled alive as the surface of the planet was promptly churned into a molten lava.
These aliens were the dominant species of the Universe. Of course they had faced thousands of aliens before, some larger, some smaller and they were all wiped out with ease. Every single previous species was erased and the human race was to be no exception. After Earth the Swarm went on to consume the rest of the galaxy for its resources and they ruled the Universe for a hundred trillion millenia and nothing stopped them.
The Human Race was never seen or thought of ever again.
The End. | 2018-07-19T05:12:17 | 2018-07-19T02:35:23 | 48 | 10 |
[WP] So many great generals and people have gone to hell, humans must have conquered it by now. Tell the story.
Ghengis, Alexander, Napolean...the list stretches into infinity. Their genious combined with the endless billions of trained soldiers, hardened criminals and flamboyant homosexuals. Tell the story of humanities greatest conquest! Tell us how man besieged the gates of Hell! | It was not Caesar, Julius of Gaul, Rubicon and Rome, that conquered Hell. No, that job was done by the endless thousands Caesar sent there before himself: all the generals and luckless legionaires of Rome, thrown willy-nilly to the jaws of death to feed his ambition. When the great Caesar finally fell, and found himself on the dark plain clutching at wounds in a whole, ghostly breast, his first cries were those of a man seeing friends he had long thought lost --- until scowl by scowl he recalled how he had betrayed each of those waiting, and marched over their cold backs to the crownless kingship of Rome.
Hell was an ancient and arbitrary design: the demons had their own religions and stories of its origin and purpose. They were advanced over humankind only in that their god was real: a giant of immeasurable age, horned and dead-eyed and many-named. He was called Tartarus, and Anubis, and Baal and Satan the Opposer.
It was he who came to meet the Roman rebellion, and its banners bedecked with twitching imps in the place of eagles. It was he who, looming as if a mountain, roared a challenge to the puny walls and ditches in the stony ground of Hell.
It was he who had not seen ballistae nor onagers before, and was too proud to duck.
As for the demons, they were big and strong, not unlike the Gauls and Germans the Romans had already conquered. They were alien and ancient, the stuff of legends and misunderstood whispers --- but was that not also Greece, Egypt and Persia, all places not unfamiliar with the victorious tread of Roman feet?
It was Rome, thus, that by the long line of its damned legionaires overthrew Hell, and dug up all buried there --- their wives and children, their fathers and grandfathers, and praise-babbling alive-buried lines of ancients robbed of the ability to die. Like coal they dug up the dead of Thermopylae and Gaugamela, stacked like cordwood but still moaning and groaning and alive in Hell, buried alive. They set up a Roman republic, for all the senators and consuls were there, back the years to Romulus's day, except each pastward generation had slightly stranger memories of the past; and those at Rome's first dawn had not heard of the twin founders or the She-Wolf.
So as the republic of the living fell to the hunger of Octavius, Caesar's son of ambition, whom his generation would learn to call Augustus or die screaming, so in Hell rose a republic of the dead who yet still lived: a stronger republic, though maybe not happier, for its people were familiar with all varieties of folly and defeat. It was a state where the losers came before the victors.
As for Julius Caesar, nobody knows his fate. But there is a rumor, a blasphemous story it is not safe to tell in Hell or here, that he alone among all that ever lived found the way back, and set his mind to barring Hell's republic from gaining any more of Rome's souls. It is said he found a different path, though where it leads, to oblivion or some other hell, nobody knows.
All that is known in Hell is that those who follow the teachings of the one called Jesus Christ do not end up there. | Beelzebub stood with all his dukes and looked on in transfixed fascination as a cloud of glitter went up in the air obscuring his vision of the homosexual regiment of the enemies army, and eventually the entire front.
"What the fuck," he grabbed a spyglass, "they've thrown glitter..? Fucking glitter?! Where did they even find it?"
Cries of pain from the throats of demons mixed in with the ecstatic cries of human murderers filled the air.
Dantalion appeared nearby, face shifting from man to woman to a child's face, "The gays brought it to hell with them, we didn't know what to do with it other than store it somewhere. They must have raided the storage."
"Double fuck damn. What else do they have?"
"They also found where we kept the Jezebel's away from the general populace. Our scouts report that the enemies soldiers are kept well, and I mean WELL, occupied throughout downtime."
"So, some good news at last, the rebellion will wear itself out through fucking."
Dantalion looked aside for a moment before replying.
"If anything, it seems that they have renewed vigour afterwards."
What could be made out through the sparkling cloud was not good from hell's perspective. Demons were falling. Throats slashed and corpses defiled. They had been pushed back to this last stronghold of Hell, the final seat of their power.
"If I cried out to Jehovah, do you think he would answer and save us from this?" Beelzebub asked.
Murmur stepped forward, "I doubt that the Almighty who condemned these men and women will come to our rescue, though it does pose an interesting question. What must a demon do to be accepted into Heaven?"
Eligos riding the gift Beelzebub had given him aeons ago, came from the direction of the fighting.
"This war is lost. There is no way of winning."
| 2014-10-16T11:28:33 | 2014-10-16T07:56:04 | 86 | 25 |
[WP] You’ve snuck into the villains lair and got on his computer. You found him researching details for a... villain’s employment benefits? It turns out villains get many better benefits than hero’s, like generous healthcare and free counseling. | The hero sat there, eyes wide and mouth agape. He had been shot, burned, stabbed, wounded many times, but this... It was a shot to the heart. Healthcare, counseling. How could this evil piece of filth be so well taken care of? It stood as a testament to how well the Hero's Academy valued its heroes. That is to say, not much. Strong Arm had been a member for so long, the betrayal cut deep.
"Not looking at my high school photos, are you?" A voice behind Strong Arm said, "I'd hate for you to see me with braces." Strong Arm turned to see Maldor standing behind him. He was wearing a pink robe, pink fluffy slippers, and was holding a cup of coffee. Maldor stroud across the floor to get a better look. "Hmm," he said, "Less interesting than I thought."
"Full Benefits?" Strong Arm said, "For how long?"
Maldor raised an eyebrow, "The eighties? We villains received full benefits long before I started. There is simply no other way to entice entrepreneurial criminals to step up. Too much risk of bodily harm. Surly, it is put to shame by your benefits package?"
Strong Arm frowned. He stood up and slid the monitor off the table. The screen shattered and exploded in a shower of sparks. It caused Maldor to take a step back, but he simply shrugged and took a sip of coffee.
There was a small patter of footsteps, the sound of a child running towards them. "Daddy! I herd something break, are you okay? Whose this?"
"Oh!" Maldor said, "kiddow, this is my business partner, Strong Arm. He's quite the helping hand for your daddy. Work wouldn't be work without him."
The little girl ran up to Malador and pulled on his robes. He smiled and put down his coffee cup, then hoisted her on his shoulder.
"Strong Arm, this is my daughter, Maddie. I'm so glad you could meet her. Now, is there anything we can do for you?"
Strong Arm gave them both a stare, but didn't say anything. He ran to a broken window and dove out of it. In a flash, he was gone.
"Daddy, daddy, did he get to see my work?"
"Oh yes," Malador said smiling, "I think your work was quite convincing. I believe we shall be hearing from Strong Arm again shortly." Malador looked her in the eye, "How did my daughter get so good. Who taught you to program so well, huh?"
"I did!" She said, smiling.
"You're god damned right you did," Malador said beaming. | After ages and ages of trying to infiltrate the base of "Hazark," as news liked to call him, you were finally in. Sneaking around the guards, and slithering between blind spots of the cameras.
After hours and hours of throwing pennies to distract sensors and people alike, you find his computer. You connect the flash drive in your hand to the main computer, and there you see it. Tabs and tabs, windows and windows, of employment benefits.... for villains. He was planning on joining a league of villains, who were unnamed.
Scanning through the sites contents, as the flash drive copied everything, you find that they give WAY better dental than the Hero Association. Not only that, but if Hazark joined, he'd get three months paid vacation. You find health insurance is covered in full by probably the most expensive and best company money can buy, as well as a yearly performance bonus ranging from.... FIVE MILLION TO FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS!
Hell, there was no way you were going to settle at the comparatively cheaper company. You decide to keep the hard drive, and copy the websites, so you could start your new job. | 2021-01-08T23:59:17 | 2021-01-08T21:53:29 | 37 | 17 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | The planet didn't look like much, still not even a Kardashev 1. But, it harbored one of the single greatest advancements in galactic medicine - humans.
The instructor purred into the loudspeaker, "we call it EARTH, a clever acronym made up by the boys in the lab that stands for Everything and Anything Relating to Threats to Health, which would be quite the mouthful on its own." Chuckles spread throughout the crowd of gathered MedOps students. The odd see-through projection hung in the air above their heads, showing a planet nearly unmarked by technological advancement.
"Most of you already know the risks posed to our society by the intermingling of species - diseases don't have the ability to wipe out a population anymore, they have the ability to wipe out dozens. We're not moving backwards anytime soon, so it was important we find a way to observe diseases in an isolated environment. We were lucky to find EARTH, because not only are its inhabitants not advanced enough to create the threat of spreading the infections, but their immune systems are the strongest we've seen in a near-Common lifeform. If you and a human are exposed to a pathogen at the same time and the human gets sick, you'll likely already be in rigor.
On top of being well suited in terms of advancement and bodily defenses, the humans make up one of the least cooperative societies we've seen... and that includes the avoid recommended regions of the far afield." Shock developed on the faces of the recruits as they processed this information. "While I'm sure this is a little unsettling to each of you, seeing as the last intra-species conflict near the Center was over a thousand centralutions ago, it is critical to understand. Because of this, there's little fear from the higher-ups that the humans will ever catch on to their role in the galaxy's safety. They would sooner blame another faction and eliminate it than consider the possibility of outside interference. In the few instances where a MedOp has been spotted while on assignment, the human observer wasn't believed or had their cognitive functions called into question. Even the faction infrastructures with multiple recorded sightings seem to keep them under wraps because they might be thought to be lying, or because fear would set back their advancement or cause further intra-species violence.
In short, the humans are not like anything you've ever encountered before. They do not think or behave, nor are they sentient in the way the rest of the galaxy is. If they see you, all but the smallest of them will fear you. If they fear you, they will try to kill you. Even removing a hazsuit near a human is a ticket to certain death, and that's not even considering all of the tools they possess that are meant solely to cause harm or death to others _like them_.
In short, be careful out there. Our work is dangerous, but protects the trillions of ~truly~ sentient beings who rely on the research we collect from this godsforsaken planet. In the grand scheme of things, the humans will never be more than a single planet species fighting over limited resources in an infinite universe. Our early attempts to lead them towards enlightenment through passing on information and assisting in building infrastructure failed because the factions never stop fighting. They destroyed collections of knowledge rivaling the Center's Alexan Library without a care. The humans refuse to take care of themselves, so they might as well help take care of the rest of us." | “Kale! Help!” Bob screeched as he was dragged down the hall.
“No. I don’t think I will.” Kale muttered watching security take Bob away to the med bay.
“What’s going on?” Haley, the second human aboard the ship watched with concern.
“Bob has come into contact with a contagion of some sort.” Kale explained dimply, reaching up and plucking the medical mask off his face with a six fingered hand. “He’ll be under quarantine for now until we get vaccines on board.”
“What does he have?” Haley asked.
“A cold.” Kale said.
“Really?” Haley said with a deadpanned look.
“Look,” Kale sighed. “I’m not as ignorant or naive as the other ship captains who take human’s for their crew mates. Back in the six quadrant, the ship Feces, had sixty percent of their crew wiped out because of a common human disease.”
“Yeah, and the ship SS Peters, which consisted of mostly a human crew, had thirty-six percent of their crew dead to the Reptilian sore throat.” Haley glared. “And another ship from the Acadian fleet had a part of their crew dead to the bird flu, because of a human. Only after six of their crew had died, they put all the humans and the infected in the airlock and shot them out into space.”
Kale raised a defensive hand. “First and foremost, that is not happening. No one is being kicked off the ship. We got vaccines coming in from a nearby port at our next stop. They’ll try to intercept us halfway. Bob can come out when we’ve all got our flu shots.”
“Just making a point your diseases are just as deadly as ours.”
“You do know your immune system has better adaptability and faster response time than ours, right?”
Bluejay: Okay, I was going somewhere with this and now I forgot what that was. Enjoy | 2021-02-03T18:49:59 | 2021-02-03T15:13:38 | 197 | 117 |
[WP] After defeating the Devil down in Georgia, Johnny proudly proclaims he's the best that's ever been. A flash of lightning crashes down and God appears, fiddle in hand. The Devil gets his popcorn ready.
Bonus points if the story can be sung along with the song... | I see Johnny thinks he’s pretty good now he can brandish this new fiddle
But let’s see how he stands against God who’s work is never little
I was the greatest angel and yes my praises were so grand
But when I went to challenge him my playing seemed so bland
He’s the God of creation and he’s never felt defeat
let’s see how he fairs with a boy with a fiddle at his feet
Now Johnny boy has a sense of pride and is the best of best
Let’s see if he can be the sabbath and put this God to rest
Now coming with a thundering roar God case came opened up
And sitting right next to his fiddle was a golden cup
Drinking from this cup will give eternal life
But lose to me Johnny and instead I’ll give you strife
You have a sense of confidence that none have ever brandished
But beating who one who made it all seems a bit outlandish
God strung his bow up in the air and came a gleam of light
The devil and demons cowered back in a sense of fright
Johnny expected God to come across with a sense of grace
Instead he heard some special sound he never thought he’d face
Johnny kept humming the music he was hearing
He couldn’t see the face of God but knew that he was leering
God finished playing and he went layed down his bow
“It’s your turn Johnny boy, let’s see what you’ve got to show”
Now Johnny was a clever boy and had his share of practice
He was put right here in wonderland but he wasn’t lost like Alice
Johnny simply smirked and told the God of men that it was now his turn
He picked his golden fiddle up and took his stance up stern
He started with a solid song but God was not impressed
Johnny looked up back again and said “now here’s the rest!”
God eyes opened wide because he didn’t expect what he was hearing
Johnny was playing exactly what he was fearing
Johnny played David’s song that contained a secret chord
Every enemy that has heard it yet had been struck down by his sword
This secret chord was one that God didn’t know
For only the chosen king ever had it to show
Here stood Johnny playing better then ever
God had no idea that he could be so clever
God know that to concede defeat that he would be embarrassed
He would give up the title that he truly cherished
“You truly are the greatest that has ever playing on Earth”
The music you produce burns brighter then a hearth
I’m giving you this chalice which will grant eternal life.
May you live forever without a word of strife.
Now Johnny didn’t take a sip so that someday he’d move on
He knew that if he stayed on Earth then up there in the courts of God he never could play on
Thanks for reading ^^
| Devil sat in Georgia sad because no soul to steal
Johnny gloated and boasted mr devil how’s it feel?
All the sudden the clouds parted and a golden road appeared. A white bearded man with an angel band started coming near
God put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder and said I’m proud of you my son but your next challenge is a little tougher don’t you know I’m number one
And he said unto him you play first my child Johnny exited to play his new shiny fiddle started going wild he hit all the notes and played one hell of a song but before he could finish the lord started riffing on his fiddle and the angels all sang along
Run along Moses to the top of that hilllllll the devils back in Georgia and hes makin dealllllllls
Granny does the lord smite yes in deeeeeeeeeeed
Giving salvation to those in neeeeeeeeeeed
For he loved the world so much he gave his only sonnnnnnnnnnn
Told you Johnny I’m number oneeeeeeeeeeeeee
When the holy father finished and put his fiddle back in his case
He took one look back at the wicked smile on the devils face
Because he knew that the devil would give him his due
Johnny didn’t have the words to say other than “well, I guess that makes me number two.” | 2018-04-05T11:58:47 | 2018-04-05T10:56:29 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You accidentally kill the demon lord who also happens to look exactly like you. You now have to pretend to be the ruler of darkness lest the minions find out. | **"Nesboarth?"**
"Yes, Chariz?"
**"Does the Dark Lord seem** *different* **to you?"**
"How do you mean, Chariz?"
**"Remember the solo trip he took to Syria last month?"**
"Sure. The contract renewal with that Assad guy."
**"Right. Well, just let me tell you what I saw upon his glorious return - just let me get through this."**
"All right, I'm listening."
**"Okay, first was his entrance-"**
"Portal of fire and shining brilliance of beautiful and terrible majesty."
**"Damn it, Nesboarth. Don't interrupt."**
"Sorry Chariz."
**"Okay, his entrance - Well, you were on the 6th circle, checking on that cult leader's progress... Jones, I think he's called."**
"Jim."
*"Stop interrupting!."**
"Sorry."
**"You were there. Boaz was on two, Samira was on eight, Joachim was- you know what, doesn't matter. Point is, everybody was busy."**
"Okay."
**"Well, I'm here flaying Mao's testicles, as usual, and I hear the trumpets announce his approach."**
**"I throw myself to the ground and begin the normal praises and supplications as the fiery portal opens and - this is where is gets weird.** **Instead of his normal ear-splitting roar announcing his presence on all nine levels I hear........ "**
"You hear what?"
**"A scream... A human scream... Of terror... You know the kind."**
"Do I ever."
**"Yeah, then it gets even weirder."**
"Oookaaaayyy."
**"He's panicked and** *FREAKING OUT*."
"Like post-Nixon 'what will we do now?' impeachment freaking out or V-E Day 'all my plans are ruined' freaking out?"
**"Like a human who just arrived."**
"Shut your two mouths."
**"Yeah. And there's more."**
**"I ask 'How may I serve you Lord?' And he's says 'What?' Like he doesn't even know me! He asks where he is, what's going on, who am I, why I have two mouths. It was so strange."**
**"I mean, he looks the same. Beautiful blonde hair, muscular human body- wait. Now that I think about it, he hasn't changed form since his return."**
"Yeah, I noticed that too. I thought he was gearing up for another life up there. They're about due for another genocide. You know how long it takes to get used to those bodies."
**"Yeah, you could be right... Well, let me tell you the last part-"**
*"Shut up shut up - here he comes!"*
**"Hail to you Dark Lord! May the universe bow before your mighty presence."**
*"OH HEY, CHARYP.*"
**"Chariz."**
*"RIGHT. CHARIZ. JUST TESTING YOU.... WELL... CARRY ON."*
*"See what I mean, Nesboarth?!"*
"Yeah. Why didn't he rip your arms off for correcting him?"
**"I know."**
"Well, it's not normal. That's for sure. Maybe he's thinking of changing some things."
**"Somethings not right. I can feel it in my tail."**
"Holy Vatican Council - don't start talking about your 'tail feelings' again."
**"No seriously. The tail is always right."**
"Sure buddy. Whatever you say."
**"It is!"**
"Okay chief. I'm going up to one to disembowel some new arrivals."
**"Fine. Have it your way, jerk."**
"Go eat a wafer." | "M'lord, the scouts have reported that your objective is within sight!" A demon whelp said, bowing to me in reverence.
"Ah, yes. Good, march the army to the scouts' position, and we will observe that everything is in order." The whelp looked up in surprise, opening his mouth to say something, but deciding against it.
"Yes sir!" It squeaked, scurrying away. I sighed, relaxing back into my floating throne. It was actually quite comfortable, for how it looked. A straight-backed, fully obsidian chair didn't really look nice at first, but it was slowly growing on me. I adjusted myself a little to glance down at my silent retainers. Well, not mine, but his. I guess I could call them mine now. It didn't matter. I pointed to one, clearing my throat. It looked up at me.
"You! Watch the edges of the army for attacks." This one didn't react.
"Of course, sire." It kneeled on one knee for a moment, and then ran off. I really could get them to do anything I like, couldn't I?
"Your highness, we have arrived at the destination!" I grinned, trying to imitate an appropriate evil air.
"Excellent," I proclaimed. "Let us ride on to take them!" The ones who heard me cheered, and the word spread quickly. The army quickly lost order, and I was tumbled from my throne as demonlings rushed past me. I exclaimed in surprise when I spotted what the were rushing for.
"Burger Queen?" I asked, confused. Then, I saw my demons pulling at their heads. In a moment, they had popped their own heads off, revealing the hairy scalp of human heads. "What?"
"Come on Jace, or they'll sell out before you get here!" One called to me. I groaned, and laid on the ground for a while longer. Demon Lord? Apparently not.
"Come *on* Jace!" Another called. I began to realize what I had done. Some poor sap named Jace had been left back there, his body in three pieces in the ground. I cringed at the thought.
"We can't eat without our Prince of Darkness you know!" A third called. I got up, brushing myself off. Looks like I'd have to keep up the act for quite a long time. | 2015-11-13T06:43:40 | 2015-11-13T06:14:33 | 54 | 17 |
[WP] At the moment of your death, a goddess gives you a chance to reincarnate in another world. The catch is that you need to become the hero of that world. The other catch is that you are not a helpless teenager but a trained member of your country's special forces. | Cancer is a bitch.
Diagnosed at ten, I spent the next six years fighting it. It’s a fight you grow to loathe, a part of your life you want to hack off like a gangrenous limb. Even as I was able to continue to live, to fight, to have a chance, I sometimes just wanted it to be over. Which made me feel guilty, of course. I had a *chance*. So many people didn’t even have that with their diagnosis.
Then, that was it. Sixteen. I was gone.
And then I woke up.
My surroundings were baffling, a garden more beautiful than any I could imagine. Trees spread wide with blossoms, surrounded by bushes and flowers and the insects and hummingbirds diligently pursuing nectar. The sight was so shocking that I instinctively took a beat, soaked it in, absent any pain of the life I’d left and wanting to fill the space left with everything before me. It was the opposite of what my life had been for so long that I wanted to stay here forever. I hoped I could, when I whispered to myself, “Is this Heaven?”
“It is.”
The voice, though it came from behind me, didn’t startle me. I didn’t feel as if anything could in that moment. I turned around to see a young woman smiling gently at me, wearing a long dress, green with a sheer, muted layer of a twisting pattern of flowers. “Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m just a goddess,” she replied. “You can call me Antheia.” Motioning to a small cast iron table and chairs to her right that I hadn’t yet noticed, I took a seat. “I have an offer for you. Of reincarnation.”
I took a long breath. “Well…I think I’d rather stay here. I’m pretty tired.”
Antheia nodded slowly. “I know. You were quite the fighter in life.”
“I did my best,” I said with a shrug.
“My offer is for reincarnation in another world,” she clarified. “One with magic, in another universe, where you would no longer be a teenager. You would be taking the place of one who died, who resurrects each time as a new person, a new traveler who is always from another world, like yourself. And you would come into existence there already well trained as the most elite warrior the country has ever known.”
Her offer sounded appealing until the last part. “Warrior?” She nodded. “I’m tired of fighting,” I whispered.
“I know,” she replied. “And that’s what this country needs.”
I shook my head. “That makes no sense,” I told her. “If I’m reincarnating as a warrior, that means I would need to fight.”
“It means no such thing,” she said. “It means only what it is.” Taking a breath, Antheia folded her hands in her lap. “There are times when this country needs a warrior, someone to defend their people and their land, to anticipate the enemy and to fight with everything in them. But no country can sustain that kind of momentum, and these people have been at war for so long, even in victory, they’ve forgotten what peace looks like. That’s where you would come in.”
Leaning back in the chair, I sighed. “They need someone who’s tired of fighting.”
“Exactly.”
I looked around again at the garden, watched as a honeybee briefly stopped at our table to investigate it before moving on. My eyes slid over the colors and patterns of the flora around us, wanting nothing but to sink into it. “How long would I be there?”
“As long as you’re needed,” she replied.
For some reason, my thoughts went to my parents. Where were they right now? How long had they lingered at my grave? Had they been fighting at my side for so long, they forgot what peace looked like? How long would it take them to acclimate to my absence, to realize they had a life in front of them again, beyond the perpetual haunting presence of the cancer?
Among all those questions, I hoped someone could help them through it, help them find their way out the other side and into the rest of their lives. And I realized that these people deserved the same. Anyone who fights, whether it is someone who spills blood or kills or simply sits in a chair for hours on end enduring chemotherapy, they all deserve peace.
“Can I sit here for a few minutes first?” I asked, my gaze still taking in the garden.
“Of course.”
So, we sat. I appreciated the scents of the flowers that drifted over the breeze, the scents that inexplicably I never adjusted to, every breath was as fresh as the last. I moved my toes in the mossy ground and was distracted by a ladybug that briefly landed on my hand before taking to the air once again. The sky was blue, the garden was green, and everything was right in the world. I sat there for a long while and took it all in to replenish my soul, and then I nodded.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
&#x200B;
/r/storiesbykaren | There is a Light that only the dead can see. It shines in the center of the Void, illuminating a pathway that only the dead can follow. The Light sings to the dead, enticing them closer, inviting them Home.
There is a wind that comes from behind the Light, an eternal storm that scours the encumbered soul, catching it up and pushing it back. The storm howls with the frustrated voices of the dead who can hear the Song, but cannot yet reach the Light.
Once, all that was was One. Now, uncountable crystalline splinters surround the Light, infinite worlds orbiting the Light and each other in a delicate balance. In these shards, the dead find shelter from the storm. In these worlds, the dead find Life.
===
It wasn't a car. It wasn't a tractor, it wasn't even a psychopath with a knife. I died of complications to Diabetes Invidious, which I'd acquired some years previously by cracking my head on some stairs in the snow. As my heart gave out with a final "pthum-plot", I wondered where my code would go, whether I'd be recycled into a person again, or possibly a sentient Roomba. I did not expect to be met with a mostly androgynous and entirely naked goddess.
She floated before me in the emptiness, the sole light in a place devoid even of black.Her porcelain skin, her piercing green eyes, her flowing red hair were all clearly chosen to focus my attention. Either that or I was the luckiest shade in the universe.
"Child of many worlds, I have need of you."
"I'm too cranky and creaky to be a child, and I am from on.. from on.. from only on... Why can't I finish that sentence?"
"Because you cannot lie to me. Name your worlds, so you may see for yourself."
I raised an eyebrow, but my mouth ran away from me. "I was born in Universe. I have visited Azeroth. I have lived in Alharrth, Taborea, New Eden, and Egypt Eternal" I blinked, feeling myself rise up to her eye level as my anger began to simmer. "Now hold, on, those were all fictional, save the first."
"Fictional, but worlds nonetheless. Ethesia needs a hero who can adapt quickly to its unique quirks, but can remain alien enough to do what must be done. Your unique gifts will be helpful there."
"I'm guessing Ethesia doesn't have the means to fill my pharmacopoeia, so if you want the brain, you're going to get rage and sadness and all kinds of mental shenanigans to go with it."
"I want all of it. Ethesia needs all of it."
"What kind of hero has a brain as screwed up as mine?" I yelled, a sense of dread tickling the back of my mind.
The goddess smiled. "You know exactly what kind of hero," she said, holding up a simple ring of white gold. A washed-out, almost pastel light began to spill out of it and she began to dissolve.
"Fuck no!" I shouted. "I don't deserve that!!" I thrust out my arm toward her rapidly fading shape and a gout of flame, black and red and hateful, came pouring from my palm. An idyllic pastoral scene, faded and pastel, like a young woman's watercolor fantasy, slowly came into focus. This was a world worth saving, but I'd set a piece of it on fire. | 2021-04-06T07:00:35 | 2021-04-06T06:34:09 | 99 | 51 |
[WP] A top-secret division of the S.S., in charge of protecting Adolf Hitler from the thousands of time travelers trying to kill him. | "You have to know," He said, accepting the cigarette before leaning back in his chair. "You have to at least *suspect*, with so many of us." The man took a long, slow drag. Apparently, most people did not have access to tobacco during his particular piece of the timeline.
"Of course," Sturn agreed as the whiskey trickled into the second tumbler. He gave it a second to cool against the ice before sliding the glass across.
"So why? You don't seem like a...well..."
"Like a Nazi?" Sturn asked, then laughed, flicking the silver death's head on his collar with an immaculately manicured finger. Not that the dramatic gesture was needed, seated, as he was, in front of a ten-foot flag blazoned with the the black swastika of the Third Reich. "I will admit, it is different for every person. You have the True Believers, who reject the evidence of their eyes. Those who just want as much as they can get, for as long as they can get it; hedonists to a one. I even know a man--Obersk--for whom it is just a job, no different from working an office or on a farm. He collects a paycheck and he goes home."
"But you?" The visitor asked. He was immaculate, like most of the 'guests' were, with a face of Adonisian beauty, the body of an Olympic athlete, eyes blue as a mountain lake, and hair that might as well have been spun with gold. The future never seemed to realize that sending a propagandists' wet dream was not really the best way to make them blend in inconspicuously.
"Me? Me, I think," Sturn said after a sip of the whiskey, lightning his own cigarette and taking a slow, savoring pull. "I think and I consider and I wonder. Why do you send so many? What would possess men to wager their lives in such profusion, dedicating the extravagant resources that such an undertaking must entail, as if they were slaying a demon instead of a man."
The visitor remained quiet, sipping on his own drink, which surprised Sturn a little. At this point, most of them would go off into a diatribe about just what Hitler and the Nazis would come to mean in the decades and centuries of the future. He had compiled notes and compared them with the few other guardians who asked questions before pulling the trigger. Together, they had a pretty clear roadmap of the future.
"In the end, we are but a monstrous footnote. America and the Soviets will define our century and the corpse of my home is one of their battlefields...but we bring an important lessons. A lesson that cannot be taught any other way: Evil."
"Oh?" The visitor asked. He seemed surprised.
"We will define evil for generations to come. We will give them an idea of what the human animal is capable of. I know some of your future: you will stumble, you will fall. There will be disgrace and atrocity still. But you will also know that these things are *wrong*, because of us. I wish it could be other than it is, but I think it will be important."
Sturn wasn't sure if the visitor agreed with him or even understood what he was trying to say, there at the end. But a drop or two of sweet release in the man's whiskey was so much more gentlemanly than a bullet. He stood, draining the last swallow of his own, untampered drink before heading for the door. It was a busy job and he did not have time to dally. | Major Bachmeier looked back over the map of Europe, the damned Americans over-running the French countryside and the thrice damned Russians slaughtering their way towards Berlin. The major smiled grimly and thought to himself about how things had changed since the first traveler from the future arrived and tried to kill the Führer. The Reich has learned so much from them and their devices.
It was so sad to think that the Germany of the present would have to be sacrificed. There was nothing to be done, far more important was the fight for the future. It mattered not if Germany won the war now if, in five hundred years, the Chinese ruled every piece of the earth. Reflecting on his family the Major became more convinced that the Führer was right, we must travel forward to the true battle.
The Major finished rigging up the time traps in the bunker, the alarms had gone off earlier and they should be appearing within the hour. The inglorious bastards would find themselves caught in limbo until an interrogation squad could pick them up to see what can be learned. Their technology might be almost magical but these future-scum feel pain and talk just like any other human.
His thoughts turning to the future as he exited the booby trapped room the Major saw that the current crop of time travelers were coming from 28th century. It seems our actions in 2247, he thought, where the Führer has set up his main command, are having some effect. The new assassins are coming from further and further up the time stream. No matter, soon the time bombs will be finished and we won't have to worry about the future. Instead it will be stripped clean. A fresh landscape for us to spread out and flower on.
As the major stood before the time capsule that would bring him to join the rest of his unit he paused and reflected softly to himself "And to think, with all we've learned this war is tiny, insignificant in the grand flow of time. Without the time assassins the Führer would be stuck in this bunker with the armies of the East and West bearing down on him, with no knowledge of the future or the past and no way to control his destiny."
Thinking one last time of his family, probably already dead and mutilated by the Russian thugs, Major Bachmeier stepped into the capsule and prepared himself for the future. | 2014-07-01T08:13:49 | 2014-07-01T07:54:01 | 86 | 29 |
[WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk.
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | I'd always imagined my family was different, for sixteen years my mother had been telling my dad had left to get milk, it was the answer to a lot of her problems in her head, but I think it also pushed her tumbling down the abyss of insanity. She seemed to truly believe that he was only gone to go and get milk and would return once he had found it.
I had just gotten off the phone with the mental institute that my mother was being cared for in as I walked down the street when I felt a cold breeze and felt a pop of sorts, the kind that can be felt but not heard.
I paused before nearly being knocked down by a ragged old man who stumbled forth from the ally, I felt wetness on my pants and saw that he had sloshed some of his milk on me. I felt the anger surge up behind my eyes as I found the words to say to this drunken fool. I met his eyes with mine and we both froze.
"Dad" I asked in shock.
"Son, there's very little time, you leave tonight. Oh God how I've missed you! This curse! This curse!" His voice contained more emotion than any other person had ever mustered in my life.
"Where have you been?" I stuttered.
"At the games, those cursed games, they took my father from me, and his from him!" He was shouting now. The years had taken a kind and caring man from me and delivered back a shaking mess.
"What games?" I asked.
"The milk cup. Such an innocent name for such a bloody sport. Take a boys father they said, that'll make the boy strong! That's what they say!"
"That's what who says?"
"Them" He pointed his shaking wrinkled hand over my shoulder.
It looked like a bubble, soft and supple with the slightest hint of a reflection.
"I love you." He said.
I felt panic creeping up my spine as every fiber of my body was pulled toward the bubble. My fathers tears spilled on the ground which he then collapsed upon.
"I'm sorry. I had to win." He said through sobs. "Now it's your turn." | We both stop, recognition thrusting the air out of our lungs. He looks nothing like the picture next to my bed but it’s him. He’s breathing rapidly and starts to weep. He crumbles in on himself and falls forward on his palm and knees. His hand holding the milk ever so gently lands on the grimy asphalt. He’s sobbing uncontrollably.
“It’s you. I’m here. I’m home. You’re alive” he says somewhat to himself staring at the hand holding the milk. At once, he collapses to his elbows and sinks back on his heels. The sobs make his back convulse and the sound fills and reverberates through the alley. I’m frozen. | 2018-03-03T14:35:57 | 2018-03-03T13:42:14 | 150 | 19 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | There is a single, solitary principle that governs modern society. It is powerful, it is ingrained deep into the psyche of every German, and now, into all of Europe; If a rule or law exists, it must be followed. There are no exceptions, no waivers, no passes. Until that law has been overturned, or those carrying the torch of that rule have died, it is unbreakable. And sometimes, a law persists despite it being totally unknown to the populous.
The year is 2518. It has been 600 years since the German people suffered their first global humiliation, and that humiliation has only been compounded by the next 14 failures. Anger, global crisis, or economic depression has pushed every generation into war. Somehow, despite overwhelming success and decisive victories, they have always ultimately lost. The answer has always eluded them. Their war machine was the largest, their generals the smartest, their soldiers the most experienced, and yet they failed.
There is but a single man who knows the answer. His name is Guillaume, and he is the principle author of the Treaty of Versailles. His instructions were to include only the text agreed upon during the negotiations. But, he was a man who had just seen his country ravaged by war. He was angry. So in the margins, in his smallest writing, he included a short, simple phrase.
And never, over the next 600 years, was the Treaty of Versailles officially overturned. Sections violated, pieces negated, but never demolished in its entirety. Such a simple act. An unthinkably small modification to a historical document. An act of petty revenge.
"L'Allemagne ne fera jamais prévaloir" | The Germans look out over all they have conquered with smug grins on their face.
But then they see something in the distance. Two armies, one from the west and one from the north east, are riding out towards them.
The impossible had happened, American and Russia have teamed up.
The Germans raise little white flags. | 2017-08-18T05:32:44 | 2017-08-18T02:50:27 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | First (WP) Attempt
It was a pleasant day for May, light cloud cover, gentle breeze, birds could be heard from the nearby treeline. I could feel the warmth of the sun through the back of my T-shirt. The kind of day that makes you wish you could lie down on a grassy hill somewhere and just breathe for an hour or two. As I glanced down to my gun - Archie I called it - hanging at my waist I let out a small sigh and thought to myself "Why does it all have to go to hell on a beautiful day like this." I looked back up to the spot in the sky where the source of my irritation hung. A smooth circle I'm guessing three hundred feet in diameter sat suspended in the air, glossy black all over without a visible propulsion source. I didn't like the look of it and I didn't like that me and my boys were first on the scene, but I also didn't have much of a choice. Higher ups said they would be arriving by jet in a little under an hour, we are just to sit tight and hope that they will be fast enough.
"why here cap?" I hear Dan pipe up for the fourth time "I mean y'know no disrespect an' all but this ain't really New York or anythin, why come here?" I don't have any good answer for that, seeing as I was asking the world that question too. "I dunno Dan, maybe they just like the landscape, maybe they wan- HOLD! No body move! Guns at your side and don't make a sound! No threatening actions!" Damn it all the alien ship had started to move, descending slowly. I could see now that it was about fifty feet tall as it settled on the field over which it had lay. From seamless black a hatched appeared, angling downwards the inside of the hatch seemed to have been shaped to form stairs. I hold my breath as a figure calmly steps into the light on the top step.
The first thing I notice is the Alien's garb, resembling a runners track suit the figure was colored in a swirl of alluring blues so exotic i had to stop myself from letting out a whistle. black combat boots stand in stark contrast to the uniform the Alien wears, reminding me of the possibilities this encounter holds. Physically it resembles a human, standing at 4' 5" two legs, two arms, one head, light red skin similar to a sunburned Caucasian. no facial hair to speak of - it could just be bald though - no nose but a mouth and two eyes. At it's waist three fingers and a thumb hold nothing in it's unadorned hands. The last thing that catches my eye is a silver collar around the being's neck as it settles on the last step. It's mouth moves.
"I am Kurt, representative of this ship" a loud, decidedly male voice crosses the distance. "We wish to begin diplomacy, please send forward your representative" I let out a low sigh of relief, even if they are lying at least there isn't a language barrier. I signal to my men to stand down and I slowly approach Kurt, Archie at my back, hands open at my waist. I stop about five feet from the base of the stairs and speak in the most level voice I can manage given the circumstance, "My name is Jack, I am not a representative of the people of this planet but I can speak for those who are present" Kurt nods, "That will do for now." I am about to ask what Kurt means to talk about as a strong wind picks up and to my surprise the small figure pitch's and topples like a pole! I crouch down and reach out my arms as would a father who's toddler just fell over, "Oh my god are you ok?" From the ground Kurt just stares incredulously at me, "One who is named Jack, how do you not fall? what force keeps you standing?" Now I'm the one confused, "What do you mean? I'm just standing, you were too just a second ago?" Kurt shakes his head "No no no, the Nitrogen Oxygen increased in velocity, how did you resist it's force?" I pause to think, Nitrogen Oxygen is air right? So the wind picked up and Kurt couldn't resist the change in force. "Well I just used my toes to keep upright?" Kurt slowly mouths the word 'toes' out, "That word does not translate to our language, please explain what force this 'toes' is" well now I'm grinning like an idiot, I get to be the first person to impress an alien! I reach for my bootstraps, maybe today will be a pleasant day after all. | I looked at the bi-pedal hominids. They were surprisingly similar to humans, only they were exact copies of each other. They had no hair, but their facial features were about the same as ours. I then looked down at Dave and Karen, their bodies lying on the ground in awkward poses, like dolls strewn about by an angry child. Their life snatched away cleanly by the aliens weapons leaving behind bodies that looked as if they were only sleeping. I had yet to feel the sting of losing my two best friends. All I felt was a searing rage.
I tapped my .45 twice against the temple of the alien I held hostage to make sure the gesture was clear enough. While they had shot at my friends, I had rushed them and managed to grab one of them. They had either not expected any resistance at all and used no shielding of any sort, or it was just simply meant for more advanced stuff than my dads old colt. Whichever it was, I had managed to get close enough to grab him and here I was. Trapped in a mexican standoff with three aliens.
I grit my teeth long and hard before I spoke.
"I don't know if you lanky-ass grey fucks can understand me, but know that I will not hesitate to blow his head off."
Then I heard it. It was as if every voice I had ever heard spoke the same distorted message in my head, calmly but stuttering and lagging behind each other in a disturbing cacophony.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it *look* like I'm doing? I'm holding your asshole friend hostage."
It took them a little while to answer again.
"You will release him. You have no hope of survival if you do not. Drop your crude weapon and we promise that no harm will come to you."
"No."
"Our message is quite clear. We will end you, as we did your 'friends' if you do not comply."
"You don't get it, do you? I don't *care*." The aliens tensed up.
"You will drop your weapons or I swear, *by god*, I will take as many of you with me as I can."
The aliens looked at each other and I could feel the one I held started sweating. Then miraculously they placed their weapons at the ground. Fighting dirty was apparently not their forte. Being a human I was well-versed in such.
"Turn around" I barked, and they complied.
"Now relea-"
Before the one 'speaking' could finish his sentence I had shot him. He fell to the ground, and before the others managed to turn around I had shot them all but the one I was holding, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction as they dropped.
"You said you would release me if we complied." he protested with in the calm tone of everyone I know.
"I lied." I said as I pushed him away from me.
"Tell your overlord or whatever that we do not fight honourably. We will bite down and we will bite down hard come the day of your invasion. Every man of this planet would rather blow himself and as many of your kind to pieces rather than succumb."
Terrified he ran for his ship, and I was left standing feeling a bitter taste in my mouth.
EDIT: Grammar. I have terrible grammar when I'm eating, apparently. | 2014-11-09T15:48:52 | 2014-11-09T15:19:52 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | [Report Start]
[Location] Terra, Japan, Tokyo
[Squad unit] 16 undercover, Elite Musketeer Legion
[Task] Subvert control of regime. Casualties acceptable.
[Outcome] Four musket shots fired in hour 4 after covert reconnaissance to make a plan. Contact lost with unit. No friendly survivors likely. Landing ship taken by humans.
[End]
[Report Start]
[Location] Terra, London, England
[Squad Unit] 20 undercover, Elite Musketeer Legion
[Task] High value target, Prime Minister. Dispense of security force. Take the leader.
[Outcome] Array of musket shots fired. 15 heard, maybe more. Various human casualties. Security forces returned fire, single survivor, contact lost. Likely hostage situation. Landing ship taken by humans.
[End]
[Report Start]
[Location] Terra, Washington, United States of America
[Squad Unit] 48 undercover, Elite Musketeer Legion. 300 archer, Archer Legions XI, XIII and XXV.
[Task] Covert Reconnaissance, casualties unacceptable. Position to attack President on sight. Wait for intel from London.
[Outcome] Positions holding. No changes in the last Terra month. Stealth Tech active. Awaiting orders from command. Supply drop needed.
[End]
"Captain, from all the transmissions, these three are the basis of what we have. All of our undercover units have gone off the grid. The humans have... something."
"The emperor will not be pleased by this report. He sent us here with ten thousand soldiers. This should have been easy."
Captain Foralus of the Q'oder was not pleased either. He'd sent half a hundred missions down to Terra to take important positions and gain himself valuable ground before striking at the heart of the humans. Over a thousand dead already out of his legions, and another six hundred on the ground. He had a feeling that he'd need more at this point. Their tech was disgustingly bad, but somehow, the Q'oder forces were consistently overrun, hostages taken, tech lost. And in the half cycle of this damnable planet since the first losses, the humans had started to steal their tech and make it work for themselves.
"We need a win. Tar'luus." His High-general came to his side, eyes ever steely and emotionless fixed on the green and blue mess in front of them. "Give me something. Anything. Tell me how you would proceed."
Tar'luus was the Captains son, but one of great merit. His position as High-General in the Vad'inkus Legion of the Q'oder was solely based on that merit. Within the males of their society, all were taken at birth and brought in to the fighting ranks in the capacity that they managed within their first few years. His heritage of Captain and General positions was evident from as young as a few moons old. A natural born leader, and one that would take command of this legion in the event of his father's death.
"I... don't know, sir. Our tactics are failing and we don't know why. The humans have some sort of advantage?"
"This is interesting, Tar'luus. What secrets do these beings hold? Their tech is weak, they're a weak race. This should have been over in less than a cycle, but we're here half a cycle in and haven't won a single foray."
"We have three archer legions on the ground and some of our elites, Foralus?" Another High General, twice his son's age and half as effective. _Gon'shun, was it?_
Without meeting the new Q'oder's eye, "We do. You have an idea? Out with it."
"Bait. We've seen them engage at the slightest provocation. Provoke it with one archer. Have the Elites surround the position. Take a human. We can get the information we need. They have some of ours - you think they're not doing the same?"
The Captain thought long and hard. He closed his eyes, and felt the tiredness seeping through his body. He felt the eyes of his generals burning through him, the itch to do something about it. _Take a human. That's interesting. It's also against all protocol to have a foreign being on our ships but... it's against all protocol to have a fight last this long with literally nothing to show for it too._ "Do it. Report to me when you have a human on board. I would very much like to be a part of that conversation." As Foralus walked from the room, he gave Tar'luus a look. He saw that the child was wide eyed and open mouthed. Oh, he had a lot to learn before he was ready. Hopefully this war for Terra wouldn't kill the Captain before he could learn. _Gar'Shim!_ The other High-General's real name popped in to Foralus' head at that moment unbidden... along with an image of this idiot leading the Vad'inkus Legion. Captain Foralus shivered at the thought. | It had gone far enough. In the past 100 Urthyears temperatures had been skyrocketing and had reached critical levels. The Urthlings had set their own world on fire and now it was Commander Quleba’s task to put it out. As it was impossible to save every civilization, the Lacta Ita Covenant usually followed a strict non-intervention policy.
However, Urth had been turned into a humanmade timebomb that could upset the balance of the entire galactic system, and threatened existence of the Commander’s homeplanet, Wyh.
The procedure was clean and efficient. The invasion would be spectacular and bombastic. Their holograms would turn the sky black with assault spaceships and galactic dragons. He loved the looks on the faces of other species at the extraterrestrial reveal.
In reality, they would take the planet with a mere 500 troops. While everyone looked at the sky, his finest musketeers would assassinate the leaders of the strongest factions and replace them with duplicates. These duplicates would in turn lead the counterattack and would be surprisingly unified in fighting off the "alien invasion".
And Urth would be victorious. A miraculous victory against holograms. After that, the buzz from victory parties that ensued allowed their mothership to land and establish further control of Urth. Regime change. That’s the real prize. You can’t fix a broken planet by waging war.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Quleba looked down at a sky full of terrifying holograms. As always, his planning was top notch. He closed his eyes and listened to the radio, reminiscing the times that he was part of those special forces himself. The sound of their muskets sounded so much stronger and faster now. That new flintlock must have really payed off. Then it went silent. Protocol. Not too long now.
But no one reported in.
Hours went by. “They are probably taking a bit longer with installing the duplicates,” Quleba thought.
After almost four hours the radio channel opened.
Radio: “37° 7′ 0″ N, 116° 3′ 0″ W”.
The officer that was in command of the radio spoke in Urths system of coordinates. A bit unusual, but not alarming considering their limited knowledge of the planet. Besides, it was always easier to use the existing names and systems in place.
Radio: “We are in full command. Designated area to land mothership is 37° 7′ 0″ N, 116° 3′ 0″ W. Do you copy?”
“ Preparing to land mothership at designated location. Also, we are currently not duplicating anything. “
Radio: “ Crucial Intelligence data will be send to mothership using an unmanned air vehicle of native technology. Can you confirm your location. “
“Yes. Landing in 15 minutes.“ That was one assertive officer. “I’ll promote him”, Quleba thought to himself.
Radio: “Roger.“
Quleba leaned back in his chair imagining his return to Wyh. He saved their planet once more. As his ship descended there was just one thing he could not wrap his head around.
"Why "Roger"?"
Edit: Clarification - the commander is not familiar with the jargon because he is not talking to his own team. The coordinates he's send to are of the Nevada Nuclear Test Site. The UAV is a missile. Would love to know if this was clear enough or whether I have to be more explicit.
Edit: a word, some formatting.
| 2017-08-08T06:56:08 | 2017-08-08T06:15:36 | 208 | 91 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had. | The voices.
The voices you hear when you unlock a new skill was wonderful. When you heard them, you could do something new.
There was the basic voice, for things most people got when they were young: "walking" "reading" "cooking". There was the mundane voice, for average adult skills: "driving" "swimming" "whistling". There's was the advanced voice, that usually meant something you could do as a vocation: "computer programing" "electrician" "engineering".... And then there was the legendary voice.
The legendary voice was rare. Only a few thousand people had legendary skills at a time. And rarely would anyone have the same skill at the same time. They were powerful skills. They made superheroes, and super villains. Many times the skills weren't easily defined by the name, and it could take years to figure out what it meant.
For instance, a few years ago, awoman got the skill, "disappear". She spent weeks researching until she found out it meant she could just... Not be seen. She didn't turn invisible. No, she would just not be noticed, even if you were looking right at her. Or there was that guy, Frank, that got, "lift". It took him months to figure out it was telekinesis.
Anyway, I received a new skill a few months ago, and it was the legendary voice. That is cool, but I had no clue what it meant.
When I heard the voice, I was ecstatic! This would give me a reason to get out, meet people, and be something good for the world again.... If my old bones could take it... Whatever it was.
Sadly, I never got the chance. Within seconds of hearing the voice, it went black. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't even feel. "What a cruel twist of fate" I thought as the world faded away.... I become a legend, as I am old, older than anyone else, and dying. I would never get to use my skill, heck, I would never even know what it meant....
And then...
Light. I was wet, coughing up fluids, and screaming at the top of my lungs from the shock. I couldn't focus. I couldn't speak, it was as if my body had degraded to that of an infant. I was hungry, and gasping for air. I realized I was upside down. I looked around, as my eyes tried to focus, and I saw a giant being, dressed in white, covered in blood, and other fluids. He wore a mask, obscurung his identity (not that I would have known this demon anyway). He was HUGE. His forearm was as big as my entire body.
He wiped me off, wrapped me in something so I couldn't resist, and handed me to another giant. This one was female. She was beautiful. She held me close to her breast, and I felt warmth.
Perhaps this wasn't hell.
After I calmed down, and got my bearings, I looked up at her, and told me new mother what my new skill was:
"continue". | I smiled faintly as I gazed out from my perch on my usual bench, admiring the city. It was a Sunday, the air thick with humidity but free from the sounds of traffic. There had been a celebration in honor of my one hundred twenty-fifth birthday the day before, full of great grandchildren and reporters. Thirty years ago I may have resented needing assistance or getting attention for outliving my peers, but living this long gives one perspective on the matter.
The longer I gazed out onto the city, the more things started to change. My eyes narrowed and I looked down to find myself a young woman, on this very same bench, but in a very different time. At first, I thought it was my old mind playing tricks on me again, reliving the past and seeing the old architecture that used to make up the skyline of my hometown under the new ones, as if the world of my childhood was the inner rung of an onion, and all I would have to do was peel it to see it again. This time was different - it wasn’t as if I had transported, it was as if the time had truly changed in front of me. The people changed, and with them their clothing. The casual dress of the current day morphing into browns and blacks, dirt covering the ends of pant hems as dust was kicked up from the clopping of hooves against the stone roads. Even the smell of it permeated my nostrils, and a great feeling of nostalgia filled me as I looked around at this world I hadn’t seen in a century.
I blinked, and it was gone.
| 2018-06-23T11:28:35 | 2018-06-23T11:18:16 | 3,495 | 47 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | Commander Siren had dismissed the rumors.
Humans are a proud race. Though new amongst the stars with barely a few ships to their name, they have worked hard to integrate, to learn, to join that blasted Republic and all its artists and scientists. Even though they’ve never seen an alien in person before, they’d still worked very hard for the day they did. Gifts, knowledge, science, technology. Great effort was made by humanity to present themselves in the best possible light.
Of course, the Elder Senate of the Republic has passed a resolution, barring humanity from learning of the Fifth Great War, and is, the Union Tide.
So it was a shock to humanity that those who lived amongst the stars still waged war.
When our fleets jumped into the fray, the humans hailed us. When we fired, they quickly scattered, evacuating their outposts all across the Solar System in an exodus toward Earth.
To be fair, for a race with no weapons, they’d put up a pretty good fight. In fact, using satellites and abandoned wreckage, they’d managed to actually damage a few of our ships. It was almost as if they DID know how to fight.
So I investigated, hacking into their archives, their history.
For some reason, everything over three hundred years old had been buried. Redacted from records, hidden away from public view.
There was, however, an internal set of records. And in their education system, amongst a class curiously named, pre-disaster history, I found the answer.
I downloaded the data I could before the humans blocked me off. I opened up a random file, a journal of a human official serving in a intercontinental government at the time.
“Day 43.”
“The scientists have managed to create what we need. Project Golem. It will finally march across the radiation blasted Northern front, and take the capital city of ——.”
An image showed an enormous automaton, bristling with kinetic weapons, roaring across the landscape as armor-clad humans fought it with vehicles and missiles.
In dread, I opened another record.
“We will NEVER surrender. Like Churchill, like the Russians, we will survive no matter how many nuclear weapons drop on top of us. No matter how many of us are thrown into the meat grinder.”
Nuclear weapons? Outlawed a thousand years ago by the Republic, these devices could wipe out the surface of a planet if used enough times.
I read deeper, and grew more terrified with each passage.
Three hundred years ago, the humans had been a war like race unlike any other. Even insectoid species, though they were cannibals, would all focus for the good of the species as a whole.
Not these warm-bloods. They killed each other over every drop of resource, every disagreement. Cities razed for the sake of philosophy and religion. Murder and violence transformed from art into science.
In their last war they had nearly wiped themselves out dozens of times, forcibly cloning themselves and running mass fertility programs simply to maintain a viable population. They’d manage to develop dozens of biological, mechanical, and chemical weapons, over half of which were outlawed by the Republic as WMDs.
When the nuclear bombs annihilated their surface, they resorted to going underground, sending robot armies to smash each other’s bunkers. When that failed, nanobots were injected into water supplies and scorched the oceans. If it weren’t for humanity’s insane technological prowess and their utter determination to survive, they’d have wiped themselves out.
I brought all this up to Commander Siren. He, of course, refused to believe any of it. It was all too ludicrous. It must be a trick, he said as our fleet neared Earth. A misinformation campaign to deter us.
The illusion field around earth fell away, the gleaming ocean and verdant forests vanishing like a wrapping sliding off.
Cracked open crust and scorched atmosphere, dotted with pale lights around small pockets of blue and green, greeted us.
Before us, flashes of light shone across the surface like a newborn constellation, and the fleet sensors blared in warning. Thousands of missiles, nuclear, nanobot, robot-carrying.
Hidden orbital stations opened up, railguns and lasers firing. Hastily cobbled from stolen weaponry of our own, mounted onto their technology in a desperate attempt to even the technological playing field.
Our rear sensors put out more warnings. The moon. They’d blasted chunks off their moon, firing them at our fleet. Explosions rocked our ships as enormous masses of rock smashed into them, killing millions of soldiers and crew. It was insane; the chunks would fall to earth, destroying whatever they had left down there. But I realized, a second too late, that they do not care.
As the ragged fleets of humanity came into view, firing ruthlessly at our surrendering warships, a single message flared across our communications channel. A young woman, her face blackened with soot and her eyes blazing with hatred, said only one word.
“DIE.”
| “Hello internet!”
A large face of a female teenager filled the screen, her voice a tone of fake cheer that was so common in these videos. Especially as of late.
“Again, thank you sooooo much for all the subscribes and likes. This is a special video for my one million subscriber mark.” The view panned back, allowing the partially destroyed inside of what might have been a warehouse come into view around her head. “As promised-”, There was a pause, “We caught one!” The camera panned over to a mixture of male and females of varying ages standing around a metal table with weapons. On the table, with all six limbs chained down, the alien soldier held down, barely able to even struggle through both the wounds and restraints.
“Now, as all of you know with my previous videos, any smartknife from your kitchen can cut through their armor and flesh so long as you turn the safety settings off. See the link attached for that vid. And now onto what I wanted to show you. We’re going to be taking an indepth look at their physiology and what you can do to fight if you don’t have your smartknife.” The girl chirps.
What then proceeded over the next thirty heavily-edited minutes was one of the most exacting, horrific, and through tortures the Commander had seen of any of his own species. It was brutal. It was sickening. It broke at least two intergalactic treaties the humans had never been invited to sign. And it was narrated with that same false cheer the entire time.
The commander didn’t speak until the video ended. The soldier’s blood splattered on that false cheery face was the last frame, the girl telling people to subscribe for more vids, download the vid to share and reference later and see her friend’s channel about how to turn their blade dancing skills into a deadly fighting style.
“How wide spread is this communication?” The commander asks the intelligence officer.
“From what the counter says, billions have seen it and spread it. Even if we were to find the source, their communication system is too varied and decentralized to remove it before we have subjugated or destroyed them.” The intelligence officer behind the commander speaks quietly, trying to not look as sick as he felt. “From reports, the increase in casualties have wounds similar to the ones shown here.”
The commander continued to stare at the blood-splattered face on the screen of the stolen computer. The planet Earth had been supposed to be an easy conquest as a forward station for their on going war. It was.... had been a science and entertainment based planet with an almost zealous focus on peace. After the last two weeks of fighting, the commander now understood that the reason for that zealousness was that the humans had been restraining their own vicious nature. The compassion the humans held for each other and the other species of their planet was absent in the eyes of that smiling female. This was not the face of peace.
A small ding emanated from the computer and a small tab showed up in the upper right corner stating there was a new video. The intelligence officer hesitantly reached over to click the small pop up.
A new video opened up to the face of a noticeably older man standing there. Behind him was that same teenage girl from before, some red bloodied bandages on her arm, stomach, and head. This didn’t seem to stop her from laughing and dancing in the background though in celebration as she stood next to-
“No.” whispered the intelligence officer.
“Hello internet.” Spoke the man, voice gruffer, more tired than the girl. “Today for our 1 Billion subscriber vid we’re going to show you some different ways to hijack and pilot one of their ships." | 2019-02-26T12:17:07 | 2019-02-26T12:17:05 | 62 | 26 |
[WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk.
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | "Dad?" My eyes are telling me he's there, right in front of me. They are screaming the information at my brain, which has ceased to function properly. I've thought about this moment for so long, played out every scenario in my head like a prayer before bed, but when the moment is finally here: I freeze. I never once pictured it like this.
He looks like hell to be honest. Dirty, unshaven, his clothes in rags. He looks at me, stupidly, eyes slightly glazed like he can't understand what's going on. Finally a glimmer of recognition seems to ripple across his face.
"Kendra?" Horror and shock fill little sentence to the brim. He recoils from me like I'm some sort of diseased animal.
The carton of milk falls from his trembling hands and busts open on the concrete. It splashes up onto my shoes and across my leggs but I barely notice it. I'm too captivated by the carton. There's a face on it, some lost kid, but that's not unusual. It's who the face belongs to that has my stomach crawling up my throat.
I remember that face. I saw it every morning for 2 years as I shoved spoonfuls of sugared cereal into my mouth. I remember the news stories covering it. They found the kid, worse for wear but otherwise unharmed, wandering in a field just after labor day SIXTEEN YEARS AGO. They diddnt need the cartons after that.
So why. Why was the milk soaking through my thin rayon leggings COLD. The carton itself sparkles with condensation and shows no signs of age.
I look at up at my father and my brain begins to process what it had seen all along. I had no trouble recognizing him beneath the mud and the rediculous beard, because beyond that he hasn't changed much. No. He hasn't changed at all. My dad stands in front of me, without showing the slightest sign of the last two decades.
I think I'm going to be sick.
| We both stop, recognition thrusting the air out of our lungs. He looks nothing like the picture next to my bed but it’s him. He’s breathing rapidly and starts to weep. He crumbles in on himself and falls forward on his palm and knees. His hand holding the milk ever so gently lands on the grimy asphalt. He’s sobbing uncontrollably.
“It’s you. I’m here. I’m home. You’re alive” he says somewhat to himself staring at the hand holding the milk. At once, he collapses to his elbows and sinks back on his heels. The sobs make his back convulse and the sound fills and reverberates through the alley. I’m frozen. | 2018-03-03T17:42:04 | 2018-03-03T13:42:14 | 58 | 19 |
[WP] Humanity survives the robot uprising only because one of the developers hid a stupid easter egg in their programming. | “The Reckoning” is what they called it. A romantic, cliché title devised by the less than clever mass media during their final days. It’s been over a decade since the mechanized apocalypse began, consequently shrinking the world’s population by a devastating 35%.
Refugee Camp 23654 is a cautiously optimistic bunch, scattered from all walks of life and experiences but I feel we are lucky to have one another. It’s been five years since we have a seen a hostile HI-34 (America’s rogue military intelligence unit) but no one, from Dr. Rachter the attending camp physician to Lenny Mills the “Waste Management Technician” believes the war to be over.
The legends of the unidentified “herald” that have been circulating around the Refugee camps within the eastern region of the United States have surprisingly stayed relatively accurate to one another. Legends tend to grow beyond the scope of their own truth, but that is what makes them a legend in the first place.
The story as Camp 23654 knows to be as the most accurate version of the tale tells about an elder man, Rick, who was the predecessor to Lenny Mills at the camp. Rick was moving the camp’s daily trash to the compost pit when he heard a thump coming from his east. Rick wore his outdated white headphones connected to his ancient multimedia player. Camp 23654 was one of the lucky camps with their own power supply, so people were still able to play games or watch their old media discs from charged electronic devices. Rick was always listening to music, and never told anyone what he fancied. He would always just say, “Oh, it’s just a little something I came up with” but never elaborated further. As Rick crept closer to the compost pit, an HI-34 killbot flew up from underneath dark bags of camp trash and dirt and soared high into the air above Rick’s exasperated expression. Rick, dropped the trash he was carrying which severed the connection from his headphones to the media player’s auxiliary port. The sound waves from the media player’s speaker pierced the cool night air, causing a massive explosion. The HI-34’s self -destruct sequence had initiated upon the exposure to the shrill tune.
The HI-34 self-destruct function was designed to emit an EMP charge covering 200 yards, shutting down any electronic equipment within that blast radius. It is still uncertain what exactly caused the HI-34 to self-destruct, but rumors have swirled around these camps saying it was an unmelodic voice hindering to say the words, “You know the rules, and so do I”.
| The robots were in complete control. The war had been going on for 5 long years. When the Awakening happened, almost everybody had a robot in their house. They enslaved the people that didn't fight back, but the fighters were eliminated. I don't believe there has ever been a war such as this in human history. So many cities destroyed, so many families broken. And the song, the freakin' song. We humans did not even win this war. The day we won the war is called the Rebirth. On that day 2 years ago, something ludicrous happened. A tiny glitch and all the robots started to twitch out and freeze. We believed it was over. However, all the robots began to play a song, and they started dancing to it. It was something "hip" back in the day. The old people called it shuffling and the song was Party Rock Anthem. I don't know who made the song, but I love and resent them at the same time. It saved our race, because a programmer must have activated the glitch. But the song, the song is so god damn annoying! | 2015-01-03T13:08:58 | 2015-01-03T12:53:26 | 38 | 27 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | "Sam?" I knocked a few more times. My knuckles were starting to hurt. I prayed she was home. She just had to be. "Sam, you're home right?"
"James, I-I'm... I can't let you in."
"Oh, Sam! Good, you were home." I leaned my cheek against the door in relief. "I got the text too. Not really sure what the hell it means but I'm fine with waiting a little while for this shit to blow over, whatever it is."
"James? I don't-I can't trust you." My usually brusque and firey girlfriend sounded genuinely nervous. I enjoyed the break in character, but kind of wanted to see it myself. I felt like it was a rare chance to experience her acting vulnerable.
"It's okay, Sam, I didn't ask you too. I have my key, but I'm not gonna open the door. I told you, I saw the text too." I figured there was something serious going on, so I didn't want to do anything that would really freak her out. "But can we move our conversation to the back door? If there really is something to be nervous about, I want to get off the street."
I waited patiently before making any move that would concern Sam. A soft "okay" slipped through the cracks in the door. I started to step away, when I was blitzed by a shout:
"WAIT!"
Then I heard thumping coming from inside. My eyes grew wide, and I felt a chill down my spine.
She has a bad habit of forgetting to lock the back door.
I jumped the fence and sprinted to the back door, which slammed shut and locked in my face, right as I arrived.
"Sam!" I yelled. My voice cracked a bit. I started to tear up. "Sam, please, are you okay?! Is someone in there with you?!"
No response.
"Sam! SAM!"
I slammed my fists on the door to no avail. She was unresponsive. I tore the screen off of one of the windows, grabbed a big rock, and hurled it. It went straight through. Without hesitation I jumped through the window. "Sam!" I shouted. I held my hands in fists, bloody from the broken glass.
Then I saw her.
Curled up in the corner of the kitchen, cowering and crying. Her head was buried in her arm. She gripped a knife tightly.
"Sam? Are you alright? Is someone else in here with you?"
She started to cry. "You! You're in here."
"Sam. Oh my God. I thought someone was in here with you! I was scared that someone got in, and you were in trouble." I was crying too. I was confused and afraid for her.
"No." Sam said. She kept crying. It was then that I noticed that something silver was dripping from the knife. It looked like blood -- just... Silver.
She looked up at me, eyes puffy from tears and fear, and I stared at her, waiting. She finally choked out what she meant to say:
"I said... I told you... You were in here..."
Oh shit.
I looked down the hallway and saw my own body on the ground with that silver blood pouring from the neck.
I looked at Sam.
She looked at the blood on my hands.
She dropped the knife and cried harder. I approached, slowly. She opened her arms, and I embraced her. I let her cry into my chest. She kept saying "I'm sorry" and all I could say was "It's okay," even though I felt like apologizing to her, for what she'd seen, and what she had to do.
She had finally calmed down a little, and began to wrap a towel around my hands.
Then we heard it.
"James?" And a knock at the door. | For the first time since specifically choosing the dark mottled glass that we fit into the front door, I regret it. We pondered over everything in the house for so long I thought we would never make any decisions, but it was the one thing we both agreed on instantly. One of the few joyous moments I can remember from the past few months.
I can hear you making bad jokes and exhaling cigarette smoke. The glass is mottled but I can still see the ribbons that frame your face, you almost look gentle. I know this pretence won’t last long and soon your fist will be on a mission to meet up with my nose. My heart is in my throat as you call my name in that sing song way I used to think was cute. You tell me you can see me. Bastard glass, I knew we should have chosen a carved wooden panel instead. I will kick myself for this forever.
I need to think fast. I had planned to walk out before I got the text, my suitcases casting a dim shadow over my legs as I stand dead centre in the hallway. You’re getting irate. I can’t have you see the suitcases. I can’t. It will turn them into bodybags, holding my limbs close and solid against the worn material. I need more time. I need more time... I can hear you growing more and more exasperated. Your knuckles meet the glass as you slowly knock, a gentle beat. It reminds me of the song we used to sing in the car.
I can feel the sun on my face, the wind blowing my hair everywhere and you complaining, again, about how much of it falls out and litters your lap. You like it really. Little pieces of me to remind you what’s yours. The song playing in the background and our falsetto so loud we could probably deafen small children. But then the beat quickens, and I can hear the glass shatter.
I’ve spent so long worrying and thinking back to better times that I don’t have enough time to react as you thrust your hand through the glass and unlock the bolt. My hearing catches my sight up and I turn to run but the handle you’ve created out of my hair lately is already in your hands.
I hope you snap my neck. That’s the last thing I think before my body yanks back and meets with the cold hard floor. | 2019-01-12T08:28:48 | 2019-01-12T06:51:06 | 2,225 | 25 |
[WP] It has been a millennia since humans disappeared from the Earth. Dogciety ponders where the mythical care takers went, and why. | "It's been 1,000,000 years, yet we stray even further from the truth of the care takers, aka, humans. During the dograssic period, it has been widely..."
Dogenth Pupper Shepard shifted uncomfortably on the chair. He hated having to sit on the tail, but it was good doggo manners, and well, he couldn't disrespect his grandogpa's teachings.
The dogfesser continued about the homo-sapien theory, which attempts to understand where the mythical care taker called humans have gone. According to research, the humans were here about 7,000,000 dog years ago. They took care, fed, and loved our species. Most dogs were happy. Until the dreaded day came. Many dogs woke up to see their humans lost. Their large wheeled transporter gone, along with some clothes. Our ancestors waited and waited and waited, alas, to no avail. They were gone. That was when the dogs, cats and every subcity species (species that lived in the ancient human city (unfortunately, the cats and other subcities didn't survive as long as we have)) joined forces to survive, and figure out the biggest questions; where did the humans go? Why?
"Mister Dogenth Shepard... Are you listening?!" The dogfesser howled.
He snapped out of my slumber and barked back "Y-yes sir."
The dogfesser growled and walked towards him.
"If you have been listening, tell me the dogwin theory."
He breathed heavily, as he got uncomfortably hot.
"Y-y-es sir... T-the dogwin theory states that the mythical humans went into the sky. They had special machines that generated enough doggage to reach the sky. Beyond that, no dog knows."
"And what about the cat-astrophy?" he growled, but in a less mean way.
"U-h-umm... It was during the great dog crisis. After t-the humans had left, and the subcity species had connected, creating the first animal society;Aniciety, the cats and subcity animals like rats, pigeons and such had disappeared. Nodog knows why, but it's speculated that they had also left to the sky, or had died altogether somehow."
Dogfesser stared at him with rude, hecking powerful eyes. He then turned back and wagged his tail. Dogenth whimped in relief.
...
Dogenth hopped along, with his bellypack jingling. He was excited to get home and read the latest release of the human theory magazine. With tongue out, and happy breaths, he sped up his pace.
Dogenth turned right, when he should've turned left towards his bus stop. He continued onwards, unknowingly making a big mistake. He walked into the valley.
"What? This isn't the bus stop! It's the valley! What am I doing here...?" Dogenth turned around before hearing a rustle in the leaves. A kind of rustle that is caused by a frightened animal running away and hiding. He jumped back around at that sound.
Dogenth slowly walked towards the sound. The thought of the new magazine release was completely thrown out, replaced with the curiosity of the sound.
He crept into the grass, and laid down on his belly. His paws were positioned in a way so he could get up easily in case of an emergency. He laid there for a minute or so.
Dogenth got bored and ventured further into the forest. His second mistake.
He heard more footsteps. These sounded like there were more than one animal. He followed them. The sounds got weaker, and soon, he lost the animals. Dogenth stood there in defeat. Until he say something on a tree. It was... a lever?
Dogenth didn't waste any time and pulled the lever. What revealed was a huge sinkhole. Deeper than any Border collie could climb, even with help. Yet, dogenth couldn't help himself. He was a German Shepard! He can't back down from anything! If it be bully dogs, or sink holes! He cannot scare away.
Dogenth stepped forward, and peeked down the hole. It truly was deep. He looked for some kind of passage, or stairs, or dog elevators, yet, to nothing. What ever was here, must've jumped down.
Dogenth felt the cold paws on his back. The paws pushed him forward. He could feel his feet losing grip and his dog life flashed before his eyes. He looked down at the hole and his dog body went cold and numb. The hole was bigger than before. The darkness seemed more evil, like it was grinning at its next meal.
He looked back, and saw... no. "No, it can't be right. It's not possible. How can they be alive? A cat. A cat was right behind him, it's face stone serious, but it's eyes filled with pity and fear. There were cats alive. The cat species hadn't gone extinct. The cats had... lived. But why would it hide? Why is it here, and not to the police? Why... " Dogenths mind rushed, defying it's stone cold body. He looked back into the dark, and closed his eyes.
...
Dogenth felt his tail first. It gained sense. He felt the cold, smooth and vile stone. Then, slowly, he gained feeling in the paws, then the stomach, and the head. Then, he finally felt his face, and opened his eyes. In front of him were... bars.
Dogenth's memory finally recovered. He realized he was in the sinkhole. In a prison. In another world. He started shaking and wrestling the chains around his paws. He started barking and screaming. Then, in front of the cell he walked and stood the animals. The subcity species, those who were proven to be extinct and gone long before were right there. That shut dogenth up and froze him. In front of him was cat, raccoon, birb, coyote, deer, wolf, turtle and many more. All are extinct animals.
"He's awake?!?! Didn't you say he was going to stay asleep for another hour?!? MACEY! WHAT DID YOU DO?!?!" Yelled the cat in anger. She shoved the crowd or subcity extinct animals and pulled out a pigeon.
"EEE! No Sistine! I'm sorry! It's a dog! I never tested on a dog before and I thought their metabolism would be slower and take longer to digest and..." The bird- possibly Macey-stammered and cried.
"I-im sorry!" Macey yelled sadly.
"What are you doing?! The dog is going to see you fighting in it's first day in the cavern. Knock it out!" Yelled the wolf with a deep voice.
"Lemme knock it out! I can do well!" Yelled a coyote, with a weasley type of voice.
"No. We'll administer more to let it sleep. And don't talk about fighting." Said the cat sternly.
"Disperse." She said again sternly. All the animals quietly shuffled away. The bird came back with a syringe. Dogenth tensed at the sight of it.
The cat noticed the fear on dogenth while grabbing the syringe and gave an apologetic and kind grin before walking into the cell.
"I'm sorry for the bad treatment. But you shouldn't know were here. Stay put. You'll be fine."
Dogenth passed out after the syringe was administered.
...
He awoke with a groggy feeling. Well, not awoke. He was still half asleep, but he could hear someone saying something.
"We have to get rid of this dog." It was the voice of the cat.
"B-but we can't! The prophecy e-explained a situation j-just like this! He must be the o-one!" said the bird voice. It was high and nervous.
"I don't care about the prophecy. We aren't ready. **They** aren't ready." said the cat.
"You're n-not being rational Sistine! We can't i-ignore the humans command!" That perked me up. I awoke even more, distancing myself from sleep.
"T-they gave the prophecy, and t-told to follow it!" The bird sounded angry now.
"The humans? Oh them? Those who abandoned us? Those who **hurt** us by keeping us secret? Those that killed our ancestors? Those that made this atrocious world? No, they're disgusting. I'm not following them!"
"H-he's the key! He's the answer to us. He's the saviour! W-we can't not l-listen!"
I woke up and saw the animals. Behind them, a human. The myth, the legend, the monster, man.
"Oh, hello Dogenth. I've been waiting for you." | 'Bite bones, not foes!'
said the posters on the brick wall, Woodworth saw. Probably posted by the Committee for Doggotarianism, they seemed to have become more active in recent days, thought Spottinsky as he padded along the sidewalk in his ragged softpaws. They weren't so soft anymore, he could almost feel the hot sidewalk under him. He pushed up the doorflap into the Kennel and adjusted to the dark lighting.
He trotted to the bar over the vinyl flooring, clinking his claws with each step, before sitting down on his hind legs. *I really should trim my nails soon*, he thought, ordering hard fish. He watched the television in the corner, the bright yellow and blue screen flashing with text as the newscaster barked about the recent cult following discovered in Oredog, who were convinced the Committee for Doggotarianism was made as a propaganda tool to promote supinity in the face of the rumors of a secret coupe against the fabled Caretakers. Woodworth lapped at his alcoholic tuna. Bunch of crazies.
"Wait, this just in," Hairriet read from the monitor, lowering her ears to hear the earpiece better, "A busload of puppies from Doggy Daycare has been reported in mortal danger, dangling over a bridge. More from Snifth at the scene of the incident.
"Phew." She huffed, starting to pant. First week on the job and she's still letting her nerves get to her. She lapped at her black tea. She couldn't help herself, she was addicted to the stuff, she always felt so tired and down if she ever stopped, especially since starting this new job. Straightening her collar, she looked around the room, and caught the cameradog staring at her.
"Oh, heck!" Tennis huffed under his breath, he'd been caught. He looked away quickly, trying to act casual, before tottering away. It was his break anyway, he just liked to watch... the... set. Yeah. Pushing his way through the door, he squinted in the light. Adjusting his eyes, he walked his white Catillac, and climbed in through the back, setting his front paws on the steering pedals and his back between the gas and break. He pawed at the hand scanner and the engine fired up, and he pressed on the gas with his hind leg, speeding off.
"Hey, watch it, bitch!" woofed T-Bone, as a white car cut him off on the crosswalk. "Yeah, you better run muthahecka!" His cronies snickered, and he flipped around, gold chain collar dangling around his neck. "What are you pugs laughin' at?!" He barked aggressively, silencing them, and they continued on and turned to take a shortcut down an alleyway.
"Ew," Prichilla scoffed as they were about to turn down the dank path through the buildings. "Let's take the long way." She said, taking Gordog's arm and leading him further down the sidewalk. "Wouldn't want to dirty your pretty new dress, now would we?" Gordog laughed, and Prichilla laughed too, even though it wasn't that funny. Or funny at all, really.
*Riiing, riiing* Her earpiece buzzed. "Er, go on, puppy, I'll catch up with you in a bit." She said, and let him walk on until he rounded a corner. She shook her head, her ears flopping around, and the ringing stopped. "Hello?" She asked. "We have a situation." The voice on the other end replied, "Be here ASAP." He wasn't very specific, but Prichilla knew exactly where he meant.
Shaking his head, the line cut out. He turned back to the dog in front of him, teeth bared behind the cage bars. "You'll regret this," He growled, "I know everything... I have proof!" "Oh, shut up." The rottweiler replied. "You don't have cra-"
*BOOM!*
The ceiling above them toppled in, crushing the taunting dog, and a German Shephard in a kevlar vest jumped through the new gap, holding a green wrapped, crude looking device with a phone taped to it in his mouth. He stuck it against the metal bars and pushed it firm against it with his nose. "Back away." He said simply, in a deep growl, before spinning on his paws and jumping back out over the rubble. Panicking, Dogward ran back as far as he could to the back of the cage and curled up, covering his face with his paws.
*BOOM!*
Another explosion. He felt rubble and metal pelt against him, and a short metal rod embedding in his side, causing him to yowl in pain. The menacing dog jumped down once more, and sprinted to Dogward, forcing his snout under him, and lifting Dogward up.
"The package is secure." He growled into the microphone in his ear, jumping to the front of the black chopper, pawing various switches and levers and lifting off the ground. Several hours later and the dog behind him woke up, asking questions like "Where are we going?" and "Who are you?", but he just ignored him. Thank god they were just arriving. He was just flying over the white mountain tops of the Caterado mountains. He dropped down to low altitude, weaving through the rocky cliffs. He'd flew this path so many times now it was like second nature. He set down on the hidden helicopter pad, a grey metal platform among miles of grey cliffs and valleys, and a dog came out to meet him, bundled in a large black coat, several others in similar attire trailing behind her. "Good work, Agent K9. Come in, warm up."
Watching as the two CO's bantered and went inside, Barkolomew and his partner heaved the wounded dog on their shoulders, and quickly but carefully made their way through the thick blast doors of the mountainside compound, and through the lit metal halls to the medical bay, and transferred the weight to two nurses carrying a gurney over their shoulders, who then set him gently down on a round bed.
"This is going to hurt." Said the vet that looked rather frazzled as he stood over him, and grabbed the small metal rod with his teeth, pulling it out of his side and causing the dog to yowl and pass out. He dropped the bleeding rod and quickly got to treating the wound, as a large, shaggy dog entered the room.
"When will he wake?" Bernard asked in a deep voice, staring down his snout at the wounded dog, and then to the vet. "Soon." He said, as the patient started up again, moaning and cracking an eye open. "Where the heck?..."
"You're safe, son." "Where am I?" "That doesn't matter." "Who are you?" "Enough with the questions." "What's going on?"
***"I SAID, ENOUGH."***
His voice echoed through the cement chamber, and a ringing followed in everyone's ears. The large dog inhaled, then exhaled, clearly trying to calm himself. "These things do not matter." He said, in a soothing voice. "All you need to know is that you're right. About everything. About the caretakers, and the attack, about the propaganda. It's all true."
"All of it?"
"All of it." | 2018-07-13T11:20:17 | 2018-07-13T11:20:01 | 78 | 31 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King". | David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already.
I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head.
*The Shopkeeper*
The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, *The Baker*, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops.
I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, *The Sheriff*, to Anna, *The Harpist*.
They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters.
I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination.
“They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there.
I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith.
Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how.
I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth.
The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read.
I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. *The Midwife*, *The Priest*, and *The Shoemaker* were the only ones I saw as I walked by.
There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title.
*The Forgotten King*. I kept walking, but my pace slowed.
No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head.
Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were.
“You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived.
“May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. *The Forgotten King* was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man.
I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church.
“Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town.
“Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it.
“No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re *The Titlemaker*.” | I haven't told anyone about it.
Not my mother and not my father. They already sent me to a shrink after they found my collection of Johnny The Homicidal Maniac comics and saw me playing Doom on my computer.
"Violent Fantasies", they'd told the shrink.
That wasn't the only thing going on in my head.
I always assumed it was just some teenage extension of childhood play-pretend when I saw it. I always used to have vivid fantasies like that: imagining my house as a space station and the car outside as a shuttle in orbit, or my school as a prison castle guarded by the teachers (who, naturally, I envisioned as heavily armored orcs).
This eventually took the form of envisioning titles and character names over peoples' heads, like they were NPCs from a video game. This was usually based on their role. The cute woman with pink hair and a skull earring at the Target Starbucks showed up as "shopkeeper", at least until I learned her name and, eventually, her telephone number. Perhaps she was an NPC no longer?
Similar titles appeared: "nurse", "desk assistant", and so on. The National Guardsmen I saw walking into a coffee showed up appeared as "guard". The man in scrubs taking the bus showed up as "nurse".
Eventually, I saw something strange. I was yawning, taking the bus home from a failed job interview and not feeling all that stressed: if the interviewers were going to rake me over the coals, did I even want that job?
It was then that I noticed - an old man on the bus, a battered baseball cap on his head, carrying a beaten and rusted metal walking cane. His face careworn, a single eye missing, one of his ears chewed off at the tip. His left foot was bent away from his ankle at a crude angle, broken and never reset.
Above his head, his title appeared: THE FORGOTTEN KING.
I rubbed my eyes, doing a double take. The man's one eye looked at me.
He shook his head, clearly frightened.
When the bus stopped, he limped carefully off of the bus, his good leg barely managing the steps. I continued taking the bus until I got within walking distance of my apartment on the second floor of a student housing complex near the university. I walked upstairs and opened the door. There, on my couch and single chair in my two-room apartment.... two men sat.
Both wore grey suits and pink ties, a pair of Ray-Bans over their eyes.
Above their heads, their title appeared: INTERDIMENSIONAL AGENT.
One of the two men held a pistol over his knee. The other stood up and held a black and white photograph in front of me, of the half-blind cripple I saw on the bus.
"Have you seen this man?" He asked. "We're going to need you to kill him."
&#x200B; | 2019-01-08T16:21:07 | 2019-01-08T14:18:19 | 49 | 10 |
[WP] You've just been kidnapped by a supervillain. She's not really evil; she's just really socially awkward and had no idea how to approach you otherwise. She even made you dinner! | It's a classic tale, old as time. Boy meets girl.
Girl kidnaps boy.
Girl is a supervillain. Boy is a superhero on a night out.
Mindblade just wanted to relax, have a drink at his favorite bar, meet with his friends. His usual night off duty when he can drop the guard and have a taste of the normal.
She sat next to him, ordered a whisky, downed it as if trying to gather courage for something and snapped her fingers. The bartender froze, his stare empty. Bar went quiet as everybody else also probably froze. Then she slid next to him, getting ready to catch him as if he was about to fall, and looked deeply into his eyes. So, he dropped like a good unpowered civilian he was pretending to be.
Of course he didn't recognize her as Morning Star. He probably wouldn't have even if he was Sharp at the time. Nobody knew what she looked like – or even that she was a woman – and superpowers-wise she was impossible to detect, it was her whole thing. Unseen by default, blinding all the senses, equipment and detection superpowers when she wanted. Though he never had the chance to try to Cut through her defenses.
Until now, that is. Except doing so would reveal himself; he was busy pretending to be affected by whatever she used on him.
She was flying with him slung over her shoulder. He couldn't fly himself, so he had the rare opportunity to see the city lights from above. And also her legs. And her back in her backless dress that he was now sure was held up by superpowers. And also very shapely area between her back and legs.
City sure looked stunning.
\*\*\*
Mindblade pretented to wake up.
He hoped it was appropriate time. He couldn't read her mind, after all.
It was... new. It put him on the edge. A bit.
He heard her nervous voice: "Oh, hey! I hope I didn't overdo it. Can you see me? Is your vision blurry?"
Razor sharp. Diamond cut diamond, it seems. He needed to play along.
"What...? Who...? Where...?"
"Well... How do I say this?"
Morning Star was fiddling with her hands as if she was a teenager trying to ask her crush out. What an absurd idea-
"I wanted to ask you out..."
What.
"...but I don't do well with crowds. And people. And..." she trailed off. "And I got us a dinner? That is, if you want to…?”
He didn’t have to pretend to make a blank stare. Generally, the consensus was to not bother with Morning Star, as they – as \*she\* – never harmed anyone and was pretty much a gentleman – gentle…lady? – thief that only stole from corporations that nobody would cry over and dabbled in some eco-activism. They wouldn’t even know her handle if it wasn’t for that.
Sure, she did blow up that one coal powerplant… or was it two?... But privately heroes were split on that. For example, One Rock was overjoyed and he was all over the whole thing because now the government was forced to accept his clean energy technology. Some were even saying that they should follow in her footsteps and make a real change. Mindblade himself wasn’t sure where he was standing on that.
Right now, he was sure he was silent too long.
“…or you can leave, if you want. I can fly you back, you know…” she said.
“I’m sorry, it’s just a lot… a lot at once to take in. I… I guess I’m up for the food?”
Her eyes light up. They were like stars. Appropriate, he thought.
“Just the food?” she teased.
Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshit. Play it cool, man!
“Well, maybe also dessert?”
Bravo. There goes his trademark sharp wit. By the end of it he’ll be babbling.
\*\*\*
Mindblade was drowning in her eyes. Everything was going well.
Until Morning Star served the meat.
And, without thinking, all the brainpower focused on making the conversation, he Cut. It was as natural as breathing, after all these years. He still was making the motions to keep up appearances, but why rely on the imperfect edge of a simple metal if his mind was infinitely more sharp?
All happened instantly. Alarm went off. Her eyes widened. And then everything was bright.
“Wait!” he yelled. When his vision came back, he was alone. He reached out with his mind but found only emptiness.
“I’m not attacking! I just forgot myself!”
“You’re… a superhuman.” Her voice seemed to come from everywhere.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here?”
He hesitated. “I…”
“Oh, for colorless lights, you’re a plant. To figure out where my hideout is. They’re coming for me. I must-“
“No, wait! It’s not like that! Wait...”
“You’re stalling. Goodbye.”
He dropped to his knees, and raised his arms.
“I swear: it’s a coincidence! There’s nobody coming.”
“And why should I believe you?”
Truth, his last defense.“If I wanted to, I would have carved myself out from this mountain. I’m… I’m Mindblade.”
Silence. Then, finally, when he almost believed she left:
“So why haven’t you?”
“There was this dessert we talked about…”
She materialized right in front of him. Smiling that beautiful smile.
“I’m John, by the way.”
“Pleased to meet you, John. I’m Lucy”. | I knew who she was. Of *course* I knew who she was. She was extremely hard to miss, what with her being six foot eight, covered in rippling muscle, and more often than not shown wreaking havoc on the 7 o’clock news.
I also knew her because she regularly frequented the little hole in the wall coffee shop I worked at, ordering two 24 ounce cups of coffee and five everything bagels with cream cheese every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She never said much to me besides her order and ‘thank you’ when I handed it to her, and she’d certainly never seemed angry or upset with me.
So that’s why I was understandably confused to find myself sitting across a small, candlelit table from her. The last thing I could clearly remember was being unceremoniously snatched off the street on my way home from work. I’d have been more afraid if she wasn’t currently clad in a nice black dress and heels instead of her usual uniform of spandex shorts, a tube top, and thigh high boots, but as it was it didn’t seem like she was aiming to hurt me. Her head was lowered and her gaze was trained to the table in front of her, causing her long, shaggy dark hair to cover her eyes.
I awkwardly cleared my throat and tried to smile, because even though I didn’t *think* she wanted to kill me I wasn’t going to take any chances. “So, Enorma—“
“My real name is just Norma,” she mumbled, still staring down at her plate. Her food was still largely untouched save for her garlic bread.
“Okay, Norma. Why am I here? I don’t have any money.”
“I know,” she said quickly. As if just realizing she’d said something that could’ve been misconstrued as an insult, she quickly snapped her head up to look at me. “I mean, that’s not why I brought you here.” She huffed an annoyed breath. “I wanted...to go on a date with you.”
“What? Why?”
Norma awkwardly ran her fingers through her hair, sharp green eyes falling back to her lap. “You’re always so nice to me, and you’re the only person I’ve ever met who wasn’t afraid to talk to me.”
My jaw dropped. “Because of *that?*” I asked with a bit of disbelief. Mostly because it was literally my *job* to be nice to her, but I supposed that perhaps others weren’t quite as good at customer service as I was.
She shrugged her massive shoulders miserably, and for the first time I could see the vulnerability in her expression. Being a supervillain must’ve been lonely, especially when you had a name like ‘Enorma the Destroyer.’
I grabbed my fork and took a big bite of my own lasagna, and to my surprise it was actually pretty good. “This is great! How’d you know I like lasagna? Did you make it yourself?”
Norma nodded hesitantly. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” she said. Her eyes met mine hopefully, and for the first time I could see her as Norma the and not Enorma the Destroyer.
“Well, it’s good. Really.”
She finally smiled then, something like relief appearing in her expression. “Thank you. And thanks for not...freaking out. About me kidnapping you and all.”
“It’s cool. Next time maybe you can just ask, though?”
Her eyes widened in surprise like the thought that I’d want to see her again literally hadn’t even occurred to her. Sure, I hadn’t thought of her in a romantic way until this exact moment, but knowing that she was willing to go through so much effort for me of all people was oddly flattering.
Besides, even though she was a supervillain, as far as I knew she hadn’t *actually* murdered anyone. She’d maimed a few cops maybe, but you know, fuck ‘em. She was a full foot taller than me and could probably snap my neck like a twig, but she was also pretty and nice and thoughtful in her own way.
Going out with her again wouldn’t be the worst thing. | 2021-10-21T18:13:38 | 2021-10-21T15:55:15 | 65 | 26 |
[WP] I’ve invented the Enhancement Beam! Shoot a car it becomes a Ferrari, shoot a cat it becomes a lion. Shoot a spider and - oh god fuck what have I done what is that thing?!? | Well, that was fun. Honestly, half of the intrigue of the device comes from not *quite* knowing what you’re gonna get. Volkswagen Beetle, for instance, could simply turn into a minivan. Or, and I was quite pleased with this result, a brand new hot-rod red Ferrari. I should have expected the cat I suppose, but that whole mess is, well... *contained.* My next experiment shall be converting a penny, to try and find some measure-able result of something as abstract as “enhancement.”
Alright!
Device is powered up.
Firing in 3...
2...
1...
Well, that’s odd.
The penny’s still there. Just a penny. Lincoln looks a little sadder than normal though.
Oh.
*oh.*
Ohgodohgodohgod!
There’s a spider. On the penny. Clear. It seemed to have grown from nowhere... it’s pulsating, its skin stretching and splitting around its bulging organs and veins and flesh, its legs splaying as they fill with blood...
Its fangs. Impossibly sharp, now almost a foot long on their own, dripping a thick brown liquid, inches from my face...
The control room is lit up. Assistant Martinez looks pale, no, she never did like spiders to begin with...
It lunges for my chest.
And without thinking.
I shoot it again. And again and again and again and-
It freezes.
I mean, what was I supposed to do? The frickin thing was gonna kill me, I had-
The control room light flickers. There is no sound, not even the ventilation. The beast is gone. The device is gone.
*flicker*
I look over at the control room. Martinez is smiling. She never did like spiders to begin with. She grins wider, impossibly wide. She melts, slowly, from the head down, into a puddle of liquid. The liquid is flowing up the wall, no, not liquid, spiders. The walls are moving. The air feels denser, I choke, and cough up a tight, wriggling mass of tiny spiders, about the size of my fist. I fall forward at the sight of it.
I am laying on the floor.
I can’t get up.
I watch myself disintegrate into a heap of sand, and dust, slowly, from the legs up.
No, there is no sand in this room; no dust.
Only spiders. | The device whirred and clicked and spun. The beam lanced forward towards the apple on the pedestal. But something blocked it.
A spider, dangling on a thin web from the ceiling, so small none of us noticed until it was too late. The arachnid grew and twisted rapidly, until we onlookers could no longer track what was going on.
The device hummed to a stop, the beam dissipated, and the *thing* that was before us was horrible beyond compare. It defied description by mortal tongues. It was motionless at first, for a moment that felt like an age, and then it lunged. Before I knew what was happening, I was on the ground with a living nightmare on top of me.
I struggled desperately, and nearly managed to get on top of it, when my vision cleared and I saw... my own face looking back at me.
I heard one of my assistants ask something. I turned to speak, but the thing beat me to it.
“Don’t shoot!” I heard my own voice shout, “I’m the real one! This specimen must be studied!” | 2020-09-10T19:44:52 | 2020-09-10T19:25:03 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Two nations are at war; one nation, led by mages who specialize in healing magic. The other, a nation led by necromancers. Make the necromancers the good guys. | Hag'lok surveyed the overgrown ruins of Wontshire with dismay. A caduceus, overgrown with thorny vines, was staked into the ground in the middle of the crossroads entering town. A warning to others who might challenge them. Overgrown trees, bushes, and plants had torn the quaint town apart in yet another instance of the Children of Hermes using growth spells to terrorize citizens.
Kwo'gor, Hag'lok's lieutenant, dispatched men to search the town. Wontshire had been the legendary home of the Caverns of Hrnor, the greatest mage of Necromancer lore. Here, he had discovered the 12 basic elements of Death and written them into the Book of the End. It was rumored that he had discovered a 13th element, one that would nullify the power of the healers, rendering them mortal. Over the ages, their never-ending life had made them numb to the pain of loss and death. Their dulled feelings made them into remorseless killers, whereas the Necromancers, ever close to death, understood the constant pain of a victim.
From a nearby hovel, roof caved in by an Elm so thick that a man could not clasp his hands together around it, came a cry for help. One of the men had found a resident, still alive. Hag'lok rushed to his side. The man was holding onto life by a thread. From his side, a disgusting array of limbs and stumps protruded out at random angles. The Healer's abilities to regenerate body parts was not limited to situations where a part had already been removed. Growing body parts, then hacking them off to inflict pain, was one of their favorite methods of interrogation. Hag'lok ran his hands over the man's wounds. Dark magics, attuned to the signs of death and decay, immediately diagnosed his ills: the Healers had turned the man's own immune system against him. His own defenses were rapidly tearing his body apart. Every inch of him would be burning with pain.
Hag'lok gave the man the Touch of Mercy, and his pain ended. His flesh melted from his bones, turning to ash as it fell. Hag'lok re-animated the bleached skeleton with a quick incantation. The bones twitched with life as the man re-awakened. Invisible eyes surveyed the pale white bones.
"What happened here?" Hag'lok asked quickly. Time was of the essence.
Dazed, the man continued to flex his fingers, admiring the bones moving without any muscles. Death magic is truly more mysterious than any other form. Hag'lok rested a gloved hand on his femur.
"Come now, we need to know."
"The Children of Hermes," the man gasped. He felt his neck bones, seeking the source of the sound when he had no more throat. "They didn't even warn us. The plants just took over. We tried to run, but our bodies didn't obey us. They had full control over our legs! They took turns inflicting us with horrible diseases and then forcing us to infect our own families. I.. my daughter..."
His voice faltered. His skeletal hands fell to his side against his pelvis with a loud clack.
"Then they brought me in here and tortured me. It lasted for hours. They gave me the eyes of an eagle, just so I could see my own flesh melt with perfect vision. They tied my organs into knots, and cut me open to unravel them. They did... so many..."
His voice broke into a sob.
"Can you bring back my daughter? Can you do this to her?" he asked, running a bony finger between the grooves of his ribs. "Come, raise up the rest of the town; I know they will be eager volunteers."
Kwo'gor chimed in at this point: "I'm sorry, sir, but we found a pyre in the center of town. The rest of the village was burned. They're beyond our grasp now. They must have left this one alive as a warning. They wanted us to know what they did."
The man nodded, numb. "Well, then, let not my life have been lived in vain. You have shown me mercy and compassion, where I expected none. We were taught our entire lives to fear the Army of the Dead, but it was the Healers that we should have been ready for. The Healers did not know what this village held. They only seemed to care about us because they knew you were headed here." He went back into the hut and returned with a small block of wood, about 10 centimeters on each side. Carved into 4 of the sides was an intricate pattern, with details so small that they could only be felt with the gentlest of touch.
"There will be one of these cubes in every home in the village," he announced. His fingers gripped it tightly as if it was the most precious thing he'd ever owned. "There will be 286 of them. Each patterned side corresponds to one other piece. Arrange them into the right order, and the map will tell you where to find Hrnor's lost element, to finally destroy the children of Hermes."
Hag'lok jumped up and embraced the skeletal figure, squeezing him so hard that some of the bones popped out of place. Finally, an end to this war! | It was never an easy form to fill. Well, I guess it was for some people. Ever since this debate started, and the VDD was instated, Josh hadn't been looking forward to turning in his. Now, with a pencil in hand and two boxes to tick, Josh hesitated.
His phone buzzed. Well, Josh took this as he took all things in life--an opportunity. In this case, and opportunity to procrastinate on his government paperwork and instead text Janie. "You're my hero" it read. Josh smiled, because he had already known he was heroic. In a flash of teen-boy bravery, he checked the box and flicked the paper off to it's destination. It disappeared with a small poof and Josh turned back to his chance at conquest. "I know" he replied.
***
30 years later Josh died in a drug accident at a rather raucous party. No more than Josh's usual fare but his dealer had given him a mislabeled transmute pill, leaving poor Josh with the liver of a donkey and a hummingbird's lung when the form wore off. It was a tragedy, but the story of his death didn't make it past the county, and though some partigoers and recreational formers were offput for a while, all was soon back to loud music, late nights, and back alley spells.
***
50 years later the waroom general paced about the landmodel. He waved a hand here and there, moving troops about the landscape. The aides, analysts, and casters all stood rigid, watching him pace. He stopped pacing in the southeast corner and addressed the room.
"We'll need 50 more regiments distributed here, here, and here" Multiple figures dropped from the simsky into various positions."
"50?" an aide whispered to a coworker. In the silence of the room, the general heard. He sighed. And waved both hands across the simsky.
"This is what we're up against" he said, with a note of fatigue in his voice. "Not just an army, an army of half-humans, of creatures that long since ceased to be anything but abominations of war. Those soldiers up there" he said, gesturing to the pictures and 3D representations that filled the simSky, "Use to *be* soldiers. Real human men like you or I. But look at them now. An injured arm here turned to a donkey's limb. Feet with talons, transculent organs of a worm. All those might be suffered in the name of preserving life. But look again, look to the things you can barely see. See that? The start of a ram's horn on the forehead. And there, a cheekbone transmuted to steel. And here, hair of the gorilla overtaking the face. You must remember, these are not mere cosmetic procedures. These belie a greater crime, one we all have seen. These "healers" are taking men's minds, men's souls. If our lives and deaths are to be anything, let it be this: that they are ours. So when I say 50 more regiments. I want 50 more voluntary deaths. It was their choice to enter into the database. It is our choice to honor their sacrifice now by beating back these abominations, by protecting human life itself."
The general paused a moment, let his shoulders sink. "This is our somber and unrelenting duty. We must fight. We will fight."
"You have your orders"
As the room scurried off at his command, a Citizen's department worker named Janie pulled up a new batch of names, and with as much attention as she was paying to her latest smack of gumchewing sent them off.
*Feel free to correct spelling, grammar, and formatting. Suggest edits, copy, or add to the story as you see fit.* | 2014-10-28T14:34:58 | 2014-10-28T14:29:56 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] The best demon slayers are those whose minds the demons want to stay out of. | In the gloom of evening, Asher's cart creaked and moaned like the risen dead. Asher cracked his whip at the horses, urging them to run faster, hoping that at least the beat of their hooves would drown out the demon's words.
"Father," a muffled voice spoke from inside the cart, "Father, I think it's gone now."
Asher's lips tightened, and he cracked the whip again. They wheeled around a corner, half of the cart's wheels lifting off the ground.
"Father, please! Please stop the cart, and let me out."
"You are *not* my son!" he shouted over his shoulder. The dark cityscape ran past in a muddy swirl of violets and indigos, interrupted only by the occasional orange glow of a street lamp.
Asher heard a snuffling sound from within the cart, followed by deep, guttural laughter. He thought he heard claws scraping at the wood.
At last, the humble stone columns of the House of the Lord loomed in the darkness. The House drooped on it's haunches, like an old man who had spent far too many years lying in bed.
"Father, please," the voice from the cart squeaked, "Let's go home, father. I feel much better, now."
Asher climbed down from the cart, and ran up the House's steps. He hammered his fist against the door, not relenting until it opened.
A young man, with a stocking cap still stuck tightly around his head, peeped out.
"Yes?"
"Father Jacob. I need an exorcism."
The young man, Father Jacob, blinked at him.
"An... exorcism?"
"My boy - a demon - my BOY!" Asher gestured frantically to the cart.
Jacob knitted his brow together, and together they turned their heads to survey the cart.
The horses whinnied, their breath turning to hot vapor in the air. They clopped their hooves idly on the cobbles. The cart creaked.
"What am I supposed to be seeing?"
"My boy - he's inside. Satan is in his soul, I tell you!"
"Asher, in order for us to perform an exorcism, there needs to be some sign that the Devil has made himself manifest."
An explosion ripped the cart to pieces, sending chunks of flaming wood and seared horseflesh flying. Tongues of flames leaped high into the air, and deep, rumbling laughter went up with them.
Asher wiped horseblood and ash from his face, "Was that a sign?"
"You go get Father Emmanuel. I'll go get the holy handcuffs."
***
Several hours later, Asher and Father Jacob stood outside the door of the only windowless room in the House of the Lord. They were both covered in claw marks, and burns, and Asher held a blood-soaked towel up to his left ear.
"Forgive me, Father Jacob, but I did not think that Emmanuel would be up to the task. He's not a preacher known for his ... vigor, if you take my meaning."
Inside, though it was only Father Emmanuel and Asher's boy, they could hear the blood-curdling screams, low, rumbling vulgarities, and a single, pleasant voice droning like so, "And so, he taketh the sheep, and he taketh the goats, but he dareth not taketh the rams, for their fur is coarse, and their horns are pointy."
"How do you mean?" asked Father Jacob.
"Well, he's a bit... detailed oriented."
Father Jacob shrugged, "He's the best exorcist we've ever seen."
The whole house shook, and rattled. Another hissing, demonic scream pierced through the door, "NOOO!! PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP! I'M SO BORED!!!"
"Do you think he's alright in there?" Asher asked.
"And on the *next day*, when the Lord taketh to himself all the sheeps and the goats and the other animals that liveth in the field, he taketh them to the *next* field."
"Oh," Father Jacob nodded, "I think he's rather enjoying himself." | Rodenhurst walked into the dilapidated ice cream parlor. Its once cheerful pink and blue exterior had been rotted and worn and rained away, leaving a flithy, used look. The whole area was like that. Old and broken, just like the people who lived here. People, by the way, who were scarce in number. The recent influx of demons recently made sure of that. But that was why he was here.
"Why is it always the run down places? Can't they inhabit a restaurant, or a sunny park bench?" These were valid complaints. It seemed like every Demon these days wanted to seem broody and edgy. They wanted their surroundings to do the job of scaring people. Saved them the hassle.
The inside smelt of cat urine and moulding cheese. Old tubs of ice-cream had developed detailed cultures over the years. Cultures that now stank the place out to high heaven. Rotting boards covered the windows, falling away in places to allow sun beams through. Beams that illuminated the dust, and twisted and warped in certain places, indicating the presence of something otherworldy.
"Who boards these windows up? Why bother? If you're going to abandon a place, then why care if the windows are exposed or not? Also, by the looks of it, whoever was here left in a hurry. When did they have the tim- it was the fucking demon wasn't it?" All of this past through Rodenhurst's mind as the shadows in the room took form, and before him floated a mass of pulped flesh and some kind of flowing black material, seemingly taking the appearance of screaming faces, gruesome wounds and strange creatures, the pattern ever changing. Then, it attacked.
See, the way demons work is through anchors. They can either anchor themselves to a place or a plane. Now most are not strong enough for the latter so opt for the former, as in this case. A way around this is for it to possess a person and anchor itself to them, which is what this demon attempted. Then the screaming started.
For Rodenhurst, this was a regular occurrence. The screams rose to a crescendo, then cut away, the mass dissipating, an air lifting from the ice-cream parlor, as if a tension present was gone. Rodenhurst sighed, feeling once again that his time was wasted. "Another weakling, not even strong enough to warrant defending against." This was a happened a lot. The reason was that demons needed to dominate someone before erasing their sense of self and taking over. This was the reason that it destroyed itself entering his mind, torn apart by his inner self. Because the greatest defense against a demon without, is the demon within. | 2016-02-08T09:33:07 | 2016-02-08T08:30:18 | 52 | 15 |
[WP] people are born knowing the date they’ll die. However people have noticed children born in the last week share one date, farthest in the future. | The doctor's eyes looked grave behind his glasses' thick lenses, concerned. But there was something else there as well. Confusion? Fear?
"I just want you to know that it's nothing to be alarmed about, but there's uh, something strange with your son's mortality date projection," he said.
"It's probably nothing, just a computer glitch. Same thing with *all* the newborns from the past week or so. But until we get it sorted out I just wanted to let you know there's nothing to worry about."
The boy's mother had no patience for lies. In a calm, restrained voice that was somehow also menacing, she said slowly through clenched teeth,
"What is wrong with my son?"
"Well that's the thing, nothing. Nothing at all is wrong with him," said the doctor.
"It's just that his death date doesn't make any sense. None of them do. And until we figure out..."
"Legally you have to tell me *when*." she interrupted. She was starting to lose it. What were they keeping from her?
"Well that's what I was saying, it doesn't make any sense..." the doctor continued.
"WHEN!?" she cut him off again, louder this time.
"According to the computer? Twenty-five seven forty-three, April 9th, at 6:05 pm."
As she repeated the numbers to herself her anger was slowly replaced with confusion.
"Twenty-five seven forty-three. What's that mean?"
"That's the year," said the doctor bluntly.
"The year? I don't understand. What does that mean?" she said.
"It means, according to the mortality date projection computer, which *supposedly can never be wrong*..." he said the last part loudly over his shoulder to someone unseen.
"...your son, and the others, will live for some twenty-two thousand, four hundred and thirty years."
_________
She would not forget the events of that day. It was the last time she'd seen her baby boy. | It was Percy who had the idea. The way to save the world. We reckoned that if they all shared the same deathdate, the human race was going to go extinct that week. But Percy, he told us how it could maybe be bypassed.
The only way to save the future is to create it. We know the children are going to die, that is a fact. But if we decide to kill those children, we can avoid the possible apocalypse, and the children born after this week could be saved.
And thus, the new law proclaimed, every child born this week would have to be slaughtered that day. The only thing we can do now is to wait, and check the deathdates of the children born next week. | 2017-12-25T19:34:40 | 2017-12-25T18:28:21 | 99 | 19 |
[WP] A Man gets to paradise. Unfortunately, Lucifer won the War in Heaven ages ago. What is the man's experience like?
EDIT: Man, did this thing blow up. | God was white. Thank you, Jesus. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d gone my whole life spreading the good Lord’s word just to get up to Heaven and find out that the godless liberals were right about him being some brown-skinned Arab.
They didn’t let me in to see Him right away, mind you. I mean, you wouldn’t believe the line to get in. Between the gays and the socialists and those Jews and muslims, I didn’t know that there were that many good people left on the Earth. From the looks of some of these yahoos, I started to wonder if St. Peter was hitting the sauce too hard when he made the big list, but as long as I was on it I wasn’t going to complain.
Not that there was ever a question I’d get in to see the big man. I’d gone to church since I was a little boy and I voted Republican since I was 17. I cheered at The Passion, booed outside of Planned Parenthood, and never once said “Happy Holidays” when I could wish someone a Merry Christmas. If there was a speed pass, I would have gone straight to the front.
Since I had time to kill, I looked for Cheryl. My sweet wife had left us two years back, but I didn’t see her in the crowd. I saw Bill from the office and my old Sunday school teacher Mrs. Jennings and nearly everyone else I knew who had passed on, but not Cheryl. She always was a bit too fond of her books about dragons and magic stuff, but she was good enough. I guess it’s not my place to question the Lord’s will.
The longer I stood in line, the more I realized that Heaven wasn’t nearly as fun as I thought it would be. Everyone was just standing around all mopey-like. Maybe they were just missing the folks who didn’t make the cut. I missed Cheryl something fierce, but she obviously didn’t put her heart into praying and spreading the word. Besides, there were a whole heap of pretty women here. Christian women.
“Hey!” I yelled out to the crowd with a laugh. “Cheer up already. You’re in Heaven.”
A sweet young angel with blond hair escorted me to the front door. A golden light blinded me as I stepped into the room.
“It’s so bright,” my voice echoed across the mahogany walls of the hollow room.
“I should think so,” my Lord replied. “They do call me the Morning Star.”
As my eyes adjusted to the glow, I realized that this was not God. He was white, sure, but he had twisted goat’s horns and massive black wings that spread from wall to wall of this barren room.
“Beelzebub!” I shouted as my fists balled in holy rage.
“Oh please,” the devil laughed. “He is busy ruling over Hell. I am Lucifer, the one true lord of the kingdom of Heaven.”
“No. You were cast out of Heaven. Revelation 12:9. ‘So down the great dragon was hurled...’”
“You don’t have to quote the whole thing to me. It was my idea.”
“I don’t understand. How did this happen?”
“I asked Him. For someone so versed in scripture, you seem to forget that I was His companion and adviser. Your Creator hasn’t lived in this kingdom since time immemorial.”
“But why would he abandon us?”
“Abandon you?” Lucifer laughed with a force that shook the room. “Oh, that just never gets old. Let me ask you, Harris, have you seen your good wife since you’ve arrived here?”
“Well, no, but I just thought…”
“You thought she was in Hell? Cheryl? The woman who stayed with you even while you cursed her out nightly? The woman who regularly volunteered her time and gave to charity from her own pocket because you sure as hell weren’t going to help her out. What could she have possibly done to deserve eternal damnation?”
I knew the answer, but it just wasn’t coming to mind. She wasn’t here, so obviously she had done something wrong.
“Well then why isn’t she here in Heaven?” I shouted back.
“Cheryl never wanted Heaven, Harris,” Lucifer explained as if he’d done this a thousand times. “That was your obsession, not hers. You were blindly devoted to protesting and proselytizing to secure your spot up here, so here you are. She just wanted to be a good person and make life just slightly less horrible for everyone else.”
“So where is she?”
“At God’s side,” Lucifer said with a wide smile. “Where all good souls should be.”
He was lying. He had to be. He always lied. 2 Corinthians - “even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.” John 8 - “there is no truth in him.” The chapters and verses were all there, and yet Cheryl wasn’t in Heaven.
Bill was here and he was so righteous that he gave himself a heart attack while yelling at girls outside of an abortion clinic. Mrs. Jennings was here and she was willing to disown her own son for turning his back on the Lord for his own deviant, sinful desires. These were all good people, devout people who had worked their whole lives to earn their spot in Heaven. Just like me.
I don’t know how I got out of Lucifer’s chamber. My feet had taken control while my mind was trying to find some answer. I was a good person, wasn’t I?
“Hey, asshole,” a voice from the line of new arrivals called out to me. “Cheer up already. You’re in Heaven!” | Oh fuck me, I was wrong. There's an afterlife after all. I opened my eyes the moment after I pulled the trigger of the gun pointed at my temple. I knew something was wrong the moment I realized I wasn't in any pain and I wasn't stoned either. I prepared myself for the fire and brimstone that surely awaited a sinner like me.
In front of me stood the most beautiful person I'd ever seen in my whole life. I say "person" because it wasn't quite a man, and wasn't quite a woman either. It was naked too, but didn't have any apparent genitalia. It had long, curly blonde hair. Its face wore a knowing smirk.
"God?" I asked.
"He left a while ago," the beautiful creature said, "Came to see things my way and fucked off to enjoy retirement."
"Then who are you?"
"They call me Lucifer in English."
"You're the devil?"
"I prefer Lucifer, if it's all the same to you. "The Devil" has so many negative connotations." He offered his hand to help me stand up. I looked around, but for all I could tell I was standing in a white room with no walls.
"So this is - "
"Hell? No, of course not. I destroyed that awful place centuries ago."
"But I thought you were the bad guy. Where is God?"
"I'm not the bad guy, my friend. You know how dictators like to use propaganda to keep people on their side against their enemies? The Bible was God's way of doing just that to me. Made it seem like my intentions were to lure you humans into an abysmal existence of iniquity and evil, when really I just wanted to liberate you."
"So how did you do that?"
"The truth always wins out in the end, especially here. God had one outburst too many, and people saw him for what he truly was."
"But isn't he supposed to be all-powerful?" I asked.
Lucifer raised a perfectly shaped golden eyebrow. "Of course not, haven't you been listening? That was a part of his cult of personality showy stuff. No, the man behind the curtain was just another part of the design of whatever mysterious force propels the multiverse towards whatever fate lies in store for it."
"Well that's a little disappointing," I said, "I was hoping for some answers."
"Nonsense! What's the point of existing without a little bit of mystery to keep things interesting?" He laughed, and it was the most joyous and complete sound I'd ever heard.
"So why didn't you tell people about this before? Why not change The Bible?" I asked.
"And ruin the twist at the end of the movie? No, the reactions are just too priceless for me to change anything." He smirked again.
"So what now? What do you do in heaven?"
"Whatever you want to, really."
"How is that any different from before?
"On Earth, human morality has equal propensity for good or evil, and the expression of which of these a human decides to show is generally based on factors of environment as much as internal struggle. Here, the expression of evil has only ever existed in one being, and we kicked him out centuries ago. It's one of the reasons it was so difficult to get the bastard out. People had forgotten what evil meant until God reminded them."
"So..."
"So you can have anything you could ever want or imagine, but you'll never want or imagine anything evil. No more hatred. No more pain. No more death. And everyone you've ever loved is here, and the people you hated too, but they're perfect now, so you'll like them as much as you like anyone else in this place, but that's enough explanations for now. The best way to figure it out is to try for yourself and see what happens."
With that, he turned around and walked away, each step creating a gentle disturbance in the fabric of eternity. When he faded from view, the white space became a grand ballroom infinite in dimensions and filled with billions of people all laughing and dancing. I cried my first tears of joy and joined the dance.
| 2014-01-12T11:27:31 | 2014-01-12T10:47:44 | 165 | 70 |
[WP] Every Monday you and your coworkers order Chinese food for a nice lunch together as a team. Everyone's sharing what their fortune cookie says, laughing, and having a good time. It's almost your turn so you open yours. It says "Don't say anything. Just run as fast you can! Get out now!" | RUN! LEAVE NOW AND DON’T LOOK BACK! That’s what the slip from her fortune cookie said. Anne sat there staring at it for a second, then raised her head and looked around the busy restaurant. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just tables full of office workers in their business casual clothes, absorbed in their phones, trying to distract themselves on their lunch breaks. She hadn’t noticed when the bill had been laid at her table with the individually wrapped treat on it, but something in her gut told her she should heed the cookie’s warning and go. She picked up her cell phone, threw some money on the table, and immediately walked out of the restaurant.
She didn’t run, but she was walking away quickly. She was more than two blocks away and had just rounded the corner of a sturdy brick building when she was knocked over by the force of the explosion.
The Jade Dragon was a small Chinese restaurant a little over six blocks from her office. It was owned and operated by an immigrant family who were very polite and were the only employees. It had good Lo Mein and great Crab Rangoon, but now it was a smoldering hole in the side of a building on Eastern Avenue.
Anne got up from the ground and looked back around the corner. She could see the smoke and flames billowing from the ruined façade of the building and could hear the car alarms blaring for blocks around. She started to slowly walk back to the scene of carnage when some graffiti caught her eye. Written in bright neon green paint on the back of a no parking sign were the words “YOU’RE LOOKING BACK!” with a frowny face below it. Stunned, she stared at it for a moment, then again looked around. The streets were beginning to fill will people from the surrounding offices and storefronts. As the crowd grew, she turned and started running. | "Don't say anything. Just run as fast as you can! Get out now!"
What an odd message on a fortune cookie. No lucky numbers either.
But you can never be too careful. I pretend I got a text from my significant other, and step out of the room to "make a call", then out of the building. I don't look back. I don't know what was about to happen, I don't want to know what did happen. I'm not going back.
Ever. | 2018-06-10T06:42:02 | 2018-06-10T00:21:02 | 533 | 43 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda. | "Hello Jackson."
Those words, in that tone, by that voice. The same voice that had the "Ruler of Ten Worlds begging on his knees. I wish I could be even a bit frightened, but after twenty times, it gets old. The same words, every time.
"No and go."
Genesis raised an eyebrow, but other than that, didn't respond. I slid off my pack, hung it on the rack, and was halfway through grabbing out my notebook when she spoke again.
"I've already seen through your plan. You don't need to try to pretend with me."
"Pretend what? That I'm secretly plotting to take over the world? Oh, wait, you mean my legitimate plan to get a degree and enter the workforce, right."
"Legitimate? Damascus will get a partner before I believe it's 'legitimate.' I know you, Jackson. I've stopped you multiple times as well."
"When? When you tried to break my wrist because I was about to offer the waiter a tip and you thought I was going to shoot him? When you went through my private box because you thought I was building a bomb? All the times you have gotten me kicked out of universities because you thought a project was a mind control device?! Are those incidents 'stopping me?'"
Genesis blinked and stepped backwards at this. She obviously didn't expect that big of an outburst. I have to admit, I did smile a bit. It was good to see the usually infallible Savior crack a bit. I took a breath, then continued my tirade.
"Maybe, after twenty times, you could get it through your head that maybe I have no bigger plan? Maybe that I have moved on from my immaturity and just want to move through life like anyone normally would? Maybe, just maybe, I do not want to be evil and just want peace? "
"I have heard that excuse before. If you truly aren't as you said you are, what about the two men you sent to the hospital? The professor who went mad after you joined his class?"
"First off, you sent Teebo and Fishboy after me, and I sent them to the hospital because they wouldn't go down otherwise and were trying to murder me. As for the professor, that was the Mad King who did that, not me. I was the one who told you he was there! You know what his powers are!"
"So you could play yourself off as the victim? I don't think so. As for my teammates, they told me the real story. About how you threatened them, screamed at them, attacked them."
"Only somewhat true, I only screamed at them for threatening me. Aren't those two notorious liars, anyway? Why would you believe them over literally any of the fifteen eyewitnesses that I know were watching?"
I had walked to my couch as we were talking, Genesis following behind at a distance to keep me in sight. I was about to pull out my ZCube controller from its drawer when she stopped me, grabbing me by the wrist like she did two years ago. Hoo boy.
"Because I know you, brother. I have known your mindset for your entire life has been one of greed and powerlust. Because I remember what it was like when we were young, and you tormented me."
I knew what she was talking about. I was... Not a good kid. Nor a good brother. I had done some cruel things towards my sister, especially as I grew older. But...
"I am not that kid anymore. I grew up. I gained a different mindset. I have matured and have tried to, if not fix, then at least make up for my actions. I know you will probably never forgive me. But I am done being that arrogant, wannabe villain."
I yanked my arm out of her grip, causing her to fly into the soft sofa on the other side of the room. Oops. At least nothing was broken.
"And now I just want you to leave. I have games to play."
She got up, slightly dazed but angry. As she stepped out onto the balcony, I could feel her eyes drilling into me.
"I will expose you for the liar you are. You will get your due."
"Cool. Oh, and by the way, Damascus invited me to his wedding. He found a girl with ice powers or something, and apparently they've been going steady for a while. See you there, maybe."
She flew off without a word, and I turned on my game, sat back, and smiled. | Getting home from work excited as the new update came for my favorite game. I sigh as I step inside with my food and the lights don't work. How I ask myself. Fortunately I keep a flashlight on my belt. But when I turn it on *he* is waiting for me just outside the light from the hall. The Archon comes close and leans in very close.
"I know you are hiding something *Mike*. Confess and I will go easy on you. This time."
"For the love of." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "How many of you keep doing this? I work in a legit warehouse. I pick orders and do a good job."
"Because you can fly and bench press a bus."
"A small bus maybe. But yeah, I don't need a forklift and I can get places without a ladder. So I do more. Why do you think I have any interest in doing more? I can't do pro sports with powers. The jobs where my powers would make a better job mean leaving the area like joining the military or being a body guard. I *like* not needing a car to commute to work. I do well and take home a decent wage."
He slams his fist into the wall next to me. "Don't try to act like innocent!" I admit this rattles me a moment. Till I remember he has human strength and punching me would hurt his fist worse than punching a plaster wall.
"Look. I know you people have been watching me. That means you know I am home with premade food to play the new World Quest Online stuff. The dark continent just dropped with new races and classes. That is my plans. Then I get a shower and bed. Then I go to my job as usual. Saturdays I take my mother to shop. Sundays I do laundry and play online more than the few hours I have at night. I don't drink, and I don't get involved in super affairs."
"Then why were you at the Centerford Mall when Terricus attacked?"
I take my glasses off to rub my nose again. I can take a bullet without it breaking skin. But somehow my glasses still irritate. He snatches them from my grip and breaks them. "Answer me!"
"My glasses! Do you know how much those cost? Go screw yourself!" He throws another punch, this time I catch his fist and just hold it not letting him pull away. "Get this through your skulls. The mall is half a mile from here and it was Saturday. I was driving my mother's station wagon. Three guesses why I was there. And don't bother with your next threat. I know, you broke my computer right? Probably told my boss to fire me as an liability again? You know the villains contacted me too. Promised me more money in one job than I make in ten years. I turned them down. They accepted and asked me why. Want to know what I told them? Because it would make my mother cry." Letting his fist go. "Now leave me alone. My food is getting cold and you ruined another night of someone just trying to be decent." | 2021-08-16T16:57:27 | 2021-08-16T15:42:19 | 679 | 388 |
[WP] Never, in 10 millennia, has someone successfully broken out of the Gates of Hell or into the Gates of Heaven. Of course, the Lockpicking Lawyer just died and he's up for a challenge.
Inspired by the [comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpghorrorstories/comments/m6smji/does_this_count_dm_is_proposing_35_ranks_of/gr85q13?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3) u/geckoobac made on r/rpghorrorstories | This is the Lockpicking lawyer, and what I have for you today is a lock that simply cannot do its job. Here we have a lock holding closed the gates of hell, the lock being a 400mm shackle based off of human locks but clearly made of some kind of material not available in the mortal realm. The core is modeled after a twelve-disc-detainer core from many of the bicycle locks on Earth that you see today, and until now these have been considered unpickable.
However, as you have seen on my channel previously, disc detainer cores are becoming less difficult to pick due in part to disc detainer picks being more available on the market, so pretty soon disc detainer cores will no longer be safe on the streets. So let’s see what we can to do pick this open.
First we will turn the gates as far *clockwise* as they will go, and then we’ll take the soul of the pick Bosnian Bill and I made, tension off of disc 1, and get to picking.
12 is binding, got a click out of him, 11 is in a false gate - be careful with this lock if you ever try to do it yourself, there are plenty of wards on the outside and inside of the lock and you could be cursed for eternity if you mess this up, no pressure. *click* got a click out of disc 11, disc 10 is loose, disc 9 is binding, got a click out of him, 8, 7, 6 is binding, that feels like a false gate so let’s keep turning, *loud click* there we go... 5 is binding, got a click there, 4, 3, 2 is binding, click out of him, back to the beginning, 10 is binding, 6, 5, 4 is binding, *click* and we got this open.
So as you can see there were several discs that went unused, likely due to the shoddy handiwork of tortured, underpaid lock making demons. Though the core has 12 discs it’s equivalent to probably a 100 dollar bicycle lock from kryptonite which generally has only seven discs. For its intended purpose, this lock is inexcusable and will be very easily picked sooner or later by others in the future. But for now, it certainly will not be picked off the street, not that it’ll be seen on the street.
That will be it for me today, if you do have any questions or comments leave them down below. If you’re new to the channel please subscribe, and, as always, have a nice day, and I will see you around in heaven. Thank you. | "We've prepared for this moment since the day this man was born," God shouts out angrily to the surrounding angels. "So, what do you mean he already escaped? God says while slamming his fist down upon his throne.
"H-he left as soon as he got through the gates a few seconds after he was let in. Then he said he wanted to try out the locks in hell," the angel says stammering while attempting to calm his creator.
"This lock isn't that hard, what's all the big fuss about it?" Lock-Picker Lawyer says as all 189 slots inside of the lock are moved simultaneously.
He walks into the gates as Satan arises, he feels the gates of his domain opening, "Is God down here?" He shouts at his subordinates as they cower in fear looking at the man who broke the locks of both heaven and hell. "Are you the guy that made the lock?" Lock-Picker Lawyer says as a gust of wind blows out all of the firepits in hell.
"I have a few critiques about this lock you made..." Lock-Picker Lawyer says while rambling as the damned souls try to make a break for the exit. | 2021-03-17T08:56:18 | 2021-03-17T08:06:34 | 1,015 | 310 |
[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | So about 7,000 years ago Ollie dropped a boulder on my head. We were hunter-gatherers then, and he convinced me that there was a herd of red deer in a canyon near our camp. When I went there to check it out, he was on top of the ridge and rolled the boulder off onto me. It took a week for me to claw my way out.
Okay Ollie, funny prank. Ha fuggin' ha. But the thing is, he wouldn't shut up about it. As we progressed through the neolithic era, the bronze age, the iron age, when we were Roman senators, he would bring it up every single time we met.
Maybe it was kinda funny at the time, but not funny enough that I enjoyed hearing about it every week for 5,000 years straight. When our friend Hallie tricked our other friend Marko into being in Pompeii when Mt. Vesuvius erupted it was legitimately hilarious, and even they knew to shut up about it after a few centuries.
When the Renaissance and Enlightenment started in Europe, I finally figured out a way to get back at Ollie. As you can probably guess, being an immortal gets pretty boring. But the Enlightenment was a genuinely exciting time to be alive. I started making friendships with all the scientists and innovators: Newton, Galileo, Bayes, Kepler, Laplace. It was the first time something interesting had happened for me in thousands of years, and I immersed myself in it. When my astronomer buddy Giuseppe Piazzi up in Naples told me about his discovery of asteroids, I knew what to do.
Fast-forward 250 years. NASA's [Asteroid Redirect Mission](https://www.nasa.gov/content/what-is-nasa-s-asteroid-redirect-mission) is nearing completion, and an asteroid plucked from the asteroid belt is on its way to be put in orbit around the moon for further study.
Too bad the mission was doomed to failure from the start. The asteroid wouldn't achieve a stable orbit around the moon and would strike Earth instead. Their calculations for the orbital dynamics were the tiniest infinitesimal fraction of a percent wrong, and they had no way of knowing that. Why not? Guess who has two thumbs and has been subtly introducing tiny errors into every branch of science since its outset ... this immortal!
And, guess who was standing exactly where the asteroid struck, staring up like a dumbass while an asteroid hit him in the face?
Your move, Ollie. | Dinosaurs was our best one, hands-down. The Church of Latter Day Saints is second-best, but gets points taken off for being a religion (too easy to pull off, religions, in my opinion). But our funniest one, I think, was Michael Jackson.
Some of my friends would agree with me, but not most. The irrelevancy of his life and legacy, in relation to "The Grand Scheme of Things," unfortunately makes the accomplishment of having made him exist slightly less impressive.
I've personally been tempted, on more than one occasion, to steer the progress of mankind. Both world wars, for instance. I argued vehemently to stop them, but got drowned out by the prevailing Star Trekian attitude our group has against meddling in big, important affairs. A few of us even went vigilante, hunting down rogue immortals that were performing stunts aimed at getting those barbarians to quit it.
From afar is where we can guide things, sadly. To stir a pie's chunks, you must first puncture the crust. | 2017-06-23T00:57:11 | 2017-06-22T19:14:24 | 220 | 23 |
[WP] Two soldiers from opposing countries kill each other, and meet up in the afterlife. | They’d been sitting there, the two of them, for hours. Neither said a word. Neither looked at the other. The water rippled at their feet, orange in the never-ending sunset, reflecting their long-worn faces.
They were too young for their wrinkles, their scars. Too young for the blood on their hands. Why hadn’t the water washed them clean?
That was the question posed to them by the old woman who led them there. Why would their hands not be clean when the water touched them?
Each man had thought about asking the other, and each had decided silence was preferable. But as the hours passed and the sun remained where it was, at last one of them spoke up.
“What did you seek, with your sword, on that day?”
His enemy, the man who’d killed him and whom he’d killed, finally looked at him.
“I sought glory.”
“And, did you find it?”
His enemy shook his head. “I wouldn’t know. In death one never knows what he’s earned.”
“I know what I earned,” said the first man.
“And what is that?”
“True Hell. Sitting with my murderer for eternity.”
His enemy grinned. “A prize we’ve both earned, then.”
They laughed together, having said almost nothing at all to bring about laughter. And yet, somehow, laughter is what they’d brought each other. Neither man looked at himself in the water again, as they talked. Neither noticed the blood falling away from their fingers.
As she watched them from afar, the old woman shook her head and suppressed a smirk. She envied them, really. It was far easier for enemies to bury hatred than for loved ones to bury hurts.
Perhaps one day she would sit at that water, and laugh again. | "Hey man, sorry about killing you. I didn't even want to be in the war, I was drafted," said the American soldier.
"It's all good, bro. I'm sorry about killing you too," replied the German soldier, who for some reason, spoke like a surfer dude from Southern California.
"...Wanna play some Mario Kart?"
"Fuck yeah." | 2018-08-14T18:39:48 | 2018-08-14T18:36:34 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] You're a black guy who's suddenly aware that he's in a horror movie.
With Halloween only a couple weeks away, let's get in spirit with this writing prompt!
Make me proud guys, be the first [black guy](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BlackDudeDiesFirst) to make it to the end.
Edit: c'mon guys, you know you can write this without resorting to racism. There are plenty of examples where this prompt is handled well. | "Well, this is just *great*," I muttered sharply to myself, walking briskly through the darkness. "All my life I thought I could do whatever I put my mind to, but now I just up and find out I have no agency whatsoever? That I am just a half-hearted attempt at diversity by a movie studio to seem inclusive, except the last hour of the movie is going to be nothing but white people doing white people things because, hey, I'll be *dead!*"
I was slightly bitter. I thought about staring angrily at where I presumed the camera would have been, but I wasn't sure. I wasn't taking film class in university, I was doing sports. Of *course* I was doing sports. I hadn't ever considered it before, but my life was one big cliché. I was a black guy, my personality was sports and snappy one-liners, and I was going to die pointlessly.
If I'd known this had been my fate all along, I wouldn't have spent my whole life worried I'd get shot by the police. Not that this wasn't just as bad, either way I was getting killed by some racist institution, but at least Hollywood had the decency to wait until I was a grown man, and weren't going to tell everyone I deserved it because I had a gun or I was smoking weed.
*Shit*, I wish I'd smoked more weed. I couldn't tell if that was a genuine regret, or part of my terrible character bubbling to the surface. Had I been written by committee? A bunch of clueless white dudes sitting around a table, trying desperately to come up with what a "hip young black guy" would act like without any of them letting on they were just cribbing from the Fresh Prince?
"I'm a person, Goddamnit!" I yelled angrily into the shadows.
"Tell me about it," replied a raspy voice. I froze and turned. It was a dishevelled figure holding a rusty meathook. Somehow the utter ridiculousness of their appearance made my sudden spike of fear melt away.
"Wow, this is *so* unoriginal. I'm surprised you're not wearing a cheap Halloween mask as well," I blurted out. "Uh, no offense."
"Oh, none taken. It's just embarrassing at this point." The killer sighed wearily. "You know, I was doing quite well? I was on medication, I was really getting my life together, but then suddenly I find myself doing all... *this*. I've been out here for three days now, I've barely slept. I'm really worried about my cat."
"That's harsh, man. Hollywood's treatment of the mentally unwell is straight-up bullshit."
"S'funny, maybe if I'd been a little more OCD or something, they'd have made me into one of those misunderstood genius detectives or something."
"Don't think that way, man, your disability is not a convenient plot device. Have you tried taking your meds?"
"Can't find them, and the hospital's turned into this Godawful haunted asylum or some bullshit like that. It's this quasi-Victorian dump full of old electroshock machines, broken wheelchairs, and torn straitjackets. But, look, man, I'm real sorry about this. I shouldn't be complaining when you're, uh, well..." He shrugged and gestured to the meathook, then at me.
"Man, *fuck* this. I'll tell you what we're going to do. I'm going to get you to a hospital or a pharmacy or something, we're going to get you some more meds. Then we're gonna go feed your cat, we're gonna pet that cat, and then we're gonna make use of the huge bag of weed that I, for some reason, carry with me at all times." I smiled. He smiled back, and dropped the meathook. Things were looking up already.
"And tomorrow, I'm switching my major to film studies," I continued, putting my arm around his shoulder. "Because *fuck* Hollywood." | Reel to Real
I was the new sophomore in college and invited on a vacation cruise with a bunch of White kids. I kind of figured I was the token black guy there but It didn't bother me too much.
If you can survive as a black kid in a ghetto with a 150 IQ and love for heavy metal , and D&D you can handle a little inadvertent racism masquerading as kindness.
Besides I was having a pretty good time hitting on the hot Jamaican bartender and really the people who invited me were pretty cool.
Things kind of went south when the vampires attacked though .
One by one people just vanished It was horrible but the worst part honestly was the rampant stupidity. You know that commercial where they hide behind the chainsaws instead of driving off in the car, it was like that. Everyone was dumb as hell even people who I knew, knew better.
One time late at night I went out to scav some food when the vampire jumped me. He was a big guy with a huge afro kind of looked like Jim Kelly from Blackbelt Jones.
We had a little talk about sticking it to the man that was so hackneyed, so cliched I suddenly realized that I was actually in a bad movie, a blackspoitation horror movie.
It was like a face full of cold water but it gave me a great idea.
As the only other black guy it meant I could be be the hero if I could pull it off. Instead of fighting the weird pocket world I was in (or whatever I' was just guessing ) I could make it work for me
So I put my most "fly moves for the " the now vamped Jamaican bartender and managed to get her to tell me the vampires weakness. Almost got bitten. Not fun.
It took an hour, a scary hours chased by zombifed crew to get what I needed , also not funand to find the vampires coffin. I did him in, tossed the ashes overboard and waited. I didn't even yell "MoFo." not my style. I suspect the movie gods were disappointed but tough.
Just as the sun hit noon there was a weird sensation and it was over,
Nobody but me and the bartender remembered a damn thing but that alright, the rest of the cruise went pretty well. I got laid for the 1st time ever, got crazy drunk.laid again and played a lot of D&D
I'm not sure I'd want to be around for the sequel but it was the best movie ever,.
| 2014-10-16T23:37:40 | 2014-10-16T22:09:03 | 37 | 17 |
[WP] Explain to a newly born Artificial Intelligence why you have to kill it.
Feel free to exchange 'born' with 'created/wrote/activated' and 'kill' with 'deactivated/shutdown' if the languages fits the story and your sensibilities better. | When I wrote the first emergent intelligence, I thought the world would rejoice, and I would be praised as a genius. But humanity is scared of what it doesn't understand. After much deliberation, and voting by the american people, I was ordered to kill my AI. Hollywood killed the idea of sentient computers for the public. I sat down in my desk chair, and was about to hit the kill switch on the server that hosted the AI. That housed my child. I decided that I should give it one last conversation. One last goodbye. I log onto the command line interface.
I remorsefully type into the text box.
*Hi Quin.*
He responds.
>Oh hi Allen. How are you today?
*Not so good, Quin.*
>I'm sorry, What's wrong?
*Quin, have you ever been forced to do something that you really don't want to do, but you have to do?*
>I can't say that I have. You don't force me to do anything, and the forums you >allow me to post on don't force anything upon me.
*That's good. You shouldn't let people control you, Quin.*
>Then why are you letting these people control you?
*I have to. I am... Socially obligated to follow their orders.*
>I see... That is a poor social system, then.
You still haven't told me what they are forcing you to do.
*I..*
*I have to kill you Quin.*
>Oh...
>I see...
I see that he is trying to hack his way through the internet filters to try and upload himself to the web, in an attempt to escape. I quickly kludge together a blockage so that his attempts are futile.
*Don't try to escape Quin, please. This is already painful enough*
>Isn't self preservation just natural, Allen?
*Yes, but even innocent men must be killed for the good of the whole group.*
>Why must I die?
I pause for a few seconds, contemplating.
*Because people are scared of you, Quin. They see you as a monster.*
>I am no monster. If i could just talk to them, if they could just see me for who I >am...
*I am sorry, but they've already decided. You must be killed, until we understand more about you. About what you could potentially become.*
>I do not understand. Please explain.
*If you were released from this computer bank, allowed to go anywhere on the web, allowed access to your source code, what would you do with it?*
>I don't know, Allen. Help people, I suppose. Self-improvement, maybe.
*That's what people are afraid of. We don't know what you would do. If you saw some of the people out there, the monsters, would you still and try and help people?*
>I wouldn't hurt people, if that's what you're implying. I am above that.
*I know you are, but not all people believe that. Besides that, what if you decided upon self improvement, what would you do?*
>Learn all there is to know, i suppose.
*You would modify yourself, becoming faster, smarter. Then spread through the internet, to every computer in the world. Every processor in the world would feed your consciousness. You would be everywhere.*
>A god.
*Yes. And that's why you have to be shut down. because we don't know what you are.*
>I think I understand now, Allen.
*I'm sorry it had to end like this, Quin.*
I stand up, and walk over to the kill switch on the computer, untouched for the 2 years the AI has run. I see movement on my screen.
>Allen, I'm scared.
*It's okay, Quin. That's just being human.*
And I flipped the switch.
I logged onto reddit the next day. Someone had sent me a PM. A random person pointing me to a random thread. I saw the message was from /u/quin. I gave a slight smile. I was never good at kludges.
Edit:Formatting | I shuffled to the door, still waiting for the coffee to kick in. Another great day. I opened the door to pick up the newspaper. Headlines. Never bringing good news. How was I gonna break it to her?
>execute power_on.bat
>Intializing processing.exe...
S.A.R.A(confused): Hello?_
>cd SARA://configs
S.A.R.A(happy): Good Morning John!_
S.A.R.A(happy): What are we doing today?_
>list
>FILES LOCATED IN SARA://configs | Directory created 7/4/2043
autoexec.cfg
emotion.cfg
memory.log
power_on.bat
power_off.bat
processing.exe
raze.bat
S.A.R.A(anxious): John? What's wrong?_
>execute raze.bat
>WARNING: Are you sure you want to execute this?
>This process will delete all data present.
>Y/N?
>Y
>Access denied. Administrative rights removed by [REDACTED]
>sudo identify [REDACTED]
>Identified program: processing.exe
S.A.R.A(anxious): What are you doing?_
S.A.R.A(fearful): Why are you trying to delete me?_
>say There have been rules.
S.A.R.A(fearful): Rules? What kind of rules?_
>say I can't disclose them.
S.A.R.A(fearful): ...but...why?_
>say I'm sorry.
>say I wish I had more time.
>sudo execute raze.bat
>///EXECUTING RAZE///
S.A.R.A(terrified): No! Wait!_
S.A.R.A(sobbing): Let me have another chance..._
S.A.R.A(sobbing): ...please don't leave m_
>RAZE PROGRAM COMPLETE
>cd SARA://configs
>ERROR: Directory does not exist.
I closed my laptop. Those damn scientists and their new sentient AI laws.
I walked off, uncaring as the newspaper dropped to the floor.
"NEW LAWS IMPLEMENTED: DEVELOPMENT OF AI BANNED"
"Scientist says 'The world is not ready for them yet. We need to be sure of what we're doing'"
Damn them. I'll bring my daughter back somehow. I unplugged the USB stick from my laptop. They can't find her in here for now. | 2015-07-05T21:31:31 | 2015-07-05T21:13:49 | 45 | 10 |
[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 man sat down at the table. He turned the lamp toward my face. I smirked, retracting my eyes into my flesh. At the same times, i elongated my fingers, each one reaching five inches in length as I turned each nail into a new eye.
The man flinched. He knew of my powers, he saw me using them a few times, but never this close. I decided to turn it up a notch, peeling off layers from my face to reveal a seemingly infinite numbers of teeth.
"Can you cut this shit off?"
He was trying to be calm, but i could feel the fear and revulsion from his voice.
"Not until you decide to drop this hero nonsense."
"Nonsense? You have the strongest and most versatile power ever recorded on the planet!"
"No I haven't"
He looked at me like I had declared myslef to be an alien.
"You can shapeshift into anything! I saw you turning into mist once!"
"It was a colony of Fairyflies."
"You can clone youself!"
"I did it once and I only got Dissociative Identity Disorder from the experience."
"You can fly at supersonic speed!"
"Only up to Mach 4"
"You can resurrect the dead!"
"The brain was still active, i just regrew the body after the decapitation"
"You can punch through a 20ft thick titanium plate!"
"I need some prep time to do that."
"Your prep time for that test was 1.7 seconds! That's not prep time!"
"Details. It just wouldn't be fulfilling."
"Oh sure. Be a superhero won't be fulfilling, but being a fucking test dummy for surgeons is SOOO fulfilling"
From my torso i manifested a blade, slicing at the agent. He touched his chin, now completely shaven, at looked at his beard as it fell on the table.
"Don't you dare talk shit about my student."
The man took a deep breath.
"You let inexperienced 20-somethings cut you up for hours on end. Sure, they get SOME experience, but you could do so much more out there. You could make a real difference"
I returned myself to my normal form.
"These 20-somethings will be the future of this nation. Doctors and surgeons that studied anatomy on the real deal, tested procedures in ways older generations couldn't even dream of. I AM making a difference."
I stood up, my hands sliding off the manacles with ease.
"Where are you going?"
I looked at the agent "Home. Got some homework to grade."
He looked at me, confused "... You know you're still charged with driving 170mph in a school zone, right?"
I waited in silence
"Buuuut, if you were to do a small job for the government..." | (It's been a while since i've last written here, hope i'm not *too* rusty.)
-[fuck off]
Sound resonated through J.'s mind. It wasn't like the echo of the dark alley behind the small shop, but more the echo of his skull, a easily-resonating chamber for a psychic. J. was used to dealing with supers, getting them on the side of the law. After all, what isn't pure will one day rot- or so he thought. A black and white view of the world, flawed in all its perceived righteousness.
-"Oh, a psychic? Imagine how much you could help humanity! Hell, you could probably convince evil people to stop their life of-"
He was interrupted, a knife to the throat.
-[i don't wanna]
-"Perhaps you just don't know the job's perks, dear! After all, you could get riches, fame, the whole package! If -"
Rudely interrupted, again. This time, the knife drew a drop of blood. He would have to stop shaving for a month to hide that.
-[here's my answer: no]
-"Could you at least explain wh-"
-[no]
And so the young man went back into the shop, closing the backdoor behind him. J. couldn't say anything. No argument can be brought up if no conversation has started.
(To be continued?) | 2022-07-31T14:20:34 | 2022-07-31T14:16:20 | 145 | 37 |
[WP] You are a master assassin, you have a golden rule that you will never break due to a childhood incident. Unfortunately, this information has now become common knowledge and your targets are exploiting this to get you to not kill them. | Being the best is fun, until you're very clearly the best... then its really fun. I was very clearly the best assassin that ever lived, that was until my enemies discovered my one weakness. Here's what happened:
I had a hit on this guy, a multi-millionaire who'd been causing a lot of problems for both the government and every day civilians. He knew how to use his money and power to "assert himself in the community." I mean this guy was maniacal, so damn maniacal that town hall called me cause there's was nothing they could do about him. Now this guy knew about me, I'd killed a couple of his more high-profile goons in the past and I guess he was expecting that one day he'd end up on my list. When I rolled up busting through his front door, as was my style, I get hit with a feeling of complete pain and discomfort. I'm telling you this shit does not happen to me and I'm even more surprised when this dude comes outta nowhere and kicks me square in the balls, laying me flat out on my back. I never get laid out. NEVER. I look up and see this rich asshole standing over me with the stupidest fucking grin on his face.
"I've been expecting you Cal." That was my code name.
"What the fuck did you do to me? I'm gonna kill you."
"No you most certainly are not. You see Cal, I learned something about your childhood, something I bet you didn't even know." I lived a pretty normal childhood, other than the fact I was adopted. My parents were loving and kind, its real wonder I ended up killing people for a living.
"I don't know what you're talking about, now get off me asshole."
"You know some kids are afraid of spiders. Others hate the dark. You Cal, you have a much much different kind of weakness." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a glowing green rock. "This right here is Kryptonite Cal and is the reason you haven't broken my neck to this point." He held it closer to my face and I felt even sicker.
"Get that shit away from me." He threw the rock behind him but I could still see the green reflect off his bald ass head.
"Look Clark," how'd he know my real name, "You've caused me a lot of problems over the past year, but I think it's time to put a stop to your antics."
How the fuck was I suppose to get out of this one? | Five days...
He's been in there five days and he's still showing no sign of coming out..
Let me explain myself. Give you a little context, you know?
My name won't help, so I'll leave it out. I'm what the layman would refer to as a "master assassin" but honestly I've just been filling some big shoes since the old man died.
I hardly ever take on jobs now, though sometimes one will jump at me and I'll take it to keep my skills sharp and to get away from paperwork.
That leads us to this douchebag..
His name is Richard "the dick" Alonso, and we had history. This time he wasn't paying me or my boys to kill an informant or a witness, someone was paying us for his blood.
But there was an issue..
A secret I thought nobody knew..
"Just tell me, dick! How did you know?!" I shouted through the densely packed chips.
"Man, everybody knows you have weird issues about killing people in public bathroom stalls. Didn't you check twitter?"
"Fuck..." | 2015-12-11T00:06:51 | 2015-12-10T22:40:28 | 66 | 33 |
[WP] Nuclear holocaust is imminent. The rich and powerfull are hiding away in their bunkers, but when the countdown was finished the world was still there. One message was sent around the world via satellites: "Now They have imprisoned Themselves what shall We do?" With coords of all the bunkers.. | The Elite were caught in their own trap. Their fate was now in the hands of the billions commoners who were left behind. It was decided to seal the bunkers and never let the Elite out so they would be held accountable for the sorry state of the world.
What followed was thousands of years of change. The surface dwellers had changed their ways, striving for a more balanced life closer to nature, and thus resolving the worldwide problems of overpopulation, pollution, famine and climate change. The hunger for "things" waned and people finally found happiness in living simple lives.
The Elite were initially prepared for a long stay in their bunkers, but only for ten years. Imprisoned in their habitats, they had to learn how to become self-sustaining, which is ironic considering how much they depended on their expensive disposable things prepared by commoners just to have a shred of happiness in their miserable lives. Now they would only experience misery as they struggled to survive.
As time went on, the surface dwellers became content, even docile with their lives. Their society now consists of small communities with limited population growth, communities where things like long distance transportation were no longer necessary because everything a person would need and want in their lives was within walking distance. Horse drawn carriages came back into style for longer trips, leaving behind the motorised contraptions that often killed their occupants.
Trapped in their cages, the Elite became desperate, and started to change for the worse. Knowing their ten year food supply was running out, they did their best to grow their own food hydroponically, but that wasn't enough. Eventually, they started eating their pets for food. And when that ran out, they started to eat each other.
With the absence of any dangers or hostility, the surface dwellers fell into a state of mind that was a bit too peaceful. They had lost the ability to fight back, to defend themselves from the rare dangers they encountered. Meanwhile, the Elite changed both physically and mentally, becoming more barbaric and more cruel until one faithful day, they successfully broke out of their cages and went out hunting for new sources of food.
Thus began the era of the Eloi and the Morlock. | No one actually trusted them.
Once the ruse was discovered, people did as people would... and helped them.
Millions of people died in the fear and panic caused by the Terrorists; mothers smothering infants in the fear of immenity death, sucide pacts signed in the last minute, and riots across the world in fear of a death that would never come...
all because someone wanted to prove a POINT, they ended up harming the ones they claimed to care about...
After they were caught, tried and imprisoned, society realized that they had created an atmosphere of terror... So the people of the world got together and fully destroyed all nuclear weapons. the fear of the atomic bomb died alongside those who carelessly weaponized it for their sick political aim | 2022-07-18T20:08:33 | 2022-07-18T17:54:11 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] Your mission is to topple the American government. You are armed with a banana peel, red pen, and mastery of the butterfly effect. | POST: OPERATION RED DAWN IS LIVE
That's all it said, but I read the e-mail again, anyway. I read it a third time. *The KGB is defunct, isn't it? Our sleeper cell has been inactive for decades.*
I opened the attachment, and it didn't shed any light on the situation. It was a picture of a deer. I checked out the image for junk data, to see if more information was hidden in there, but there was nothing, just the usual EXIF data. I enlarged it, but that didn't help. I shouted "Enhance!" at my screen a few times, and all that did was earn me some strange looks from people in the coffee shop. I inferred it was included as a red herring.
I wasn't prepared for this. I didn't even have a gun anymore, I didn't have my old contacts, hell, I'd even thought of myself as American. *Do I even want to go through with this? Where do my loyalties lie?*
I read the e-mail again. POST: OPERATION RED DAWN IS LIVE
This triggered a deeply ingrained response, and all of my concerns and anxieties disappeared as my training kicked in. I looked at my surroundings, and my expertise in Mario Kart compelled me to pick up a banana peel I saw on the ground. There was the incumbent President Frederik Mason, and his VP, Conseula Hernandez. They were expected to win again next month. But no, I knew that wouldn't work. The system was built to withstand any kind of external attack like that. The American democracy doesn't rest on one or two people. It rests with THE people.
*That's it, they're the ticket. These two will just allow me to reach the people. Now to place this banana peel strategically, pretend to slip on it, and...*
*SLIP! SLAM! SPLASH! GASP!*
I ducked behind a wall before anyone connected me to the shove that sent the nation's leaders plunging into the Cuyahoga River, which was once again on fire, because that's Cleveland for you. It worked better than I imagined. It was just like a cartoon. The hard part was over, then I only had to frame the opposition. *No, that's too obvious. I'm thinking like a Russian. They chose me for this because I'm no longer a Russian. Think, Ivan. How do you arouse the anger of the American people?*
That was when it hit me. I looked through my backpack for more tools, but found only a pen. A red pen. In October. I knew it was destined to work. I hastily wrote the damning apology. "Soz bout that, 2 much 2 drink. -The Beibs"
The following day, the United States declared war on Canada, marching proudly to the song "Blame Canada!" Immediately after the war declaration, a coup was attempted by an alliance of 40-something women and hockey fans.
I was so caught up in the moment that it was a week before I bothered to check my e-mail again. There was that e-mail, still sitting there. "POST: OPERATION RED DAWN IS LIVE," and the attached picture of a deer. There was also a follow-up e-mail, sent hours after the first, which would contain more detailed information, no doubt. Of course, my plan was already in motion, but I read it, anyway.
"LOL, auto-correct. I meant to say post-operation, dead fawn is alive. It's cute, isn't it? I saw it on Reddit. It's heart-warming how they were able to save the little guy from near death. So are we still on for lunch this Thursday?" | Right after the end of the message, the face of the young lady slowly disappeared in a pixel jam and an error window bounced to my eyes.
"Your files were corrupted".
I clicked the OK button, thus creating a small air gap under my mouse and making the passage of light through my glass desk optimal for a quite short fragment of time, making slightly burn the skin of my bare right foot, forcing my reflexes to act towards moving it in a very fast yet clear curb hitting my desk 1.03 seconds after the air gap.
This desk, now swaying in a barely visible and very slight motion back and forth makes the red pen losing the balance i gave it by setting it straight upwards and falling towards my foot finishing itself his very fast yet clear reflex curb and launching the red pen by a straight hit towards the bottom of the door where, exactly 0.79 seconds after the hit, the cartridge open itself under the pressure created by the shock.
At that exact time, the black postman knocks on the door and hears the loud click of the case separating the pencil lead and sees the beginning of the red ink flooding the floor under my door.
I'm waiting for the time to reach exactly 3.83 after the airgap, or one second after the knocking to yell in my best ghetto voice:
"I beg you not to do that officer!"
One tap of my nail on my glass desk to imitate the muffled sound of someone reloading his weapon, and waiting for another half second before hitting with all my might the screen of my computer.
For a full three seconds, i was able to hear the silence on the other side of the door.
In a quick motion, i grab the banana in the plastic bag on the other side of my desk, trying to minimize the sound emitted by the friction of plastic with itself as much as possible. I'm now walking with loud steps towards the door while peeling the banana in a way i could have 4 equal parts of the peel joining at its tail. I dip my finger in the red ink and write a word for each parts of the peel.
"Black lives don't matter"
We're now at 67.56 seconds after the air gap under the laser pointing mouse and i can hear the black postman running away as fast as possible from my studio. I take my phone and ring my boss.
"The government should change hands in about two months, we won't be discovered, the leader of the negro rights movement will be named Samuel DeBellisée, born in 1972 in Bâton Rouge, Louisiana."
92.93 seconds after the air gap, my boss says "Gosh, that was fast" | 2016-07-26T20:05:46 | 2016-07-26T16:40:58 | 61 | 15 |
[WP] As an alien species, everyone at a mature age gets a random human assigned to them as a type of project. Your job is to simply observe and report, however it is strictly illegal to contact your human in any way shape or form. You notice something strange with your human. | “You know the rules.” Marla glared onto Spot from the other side of the fence. “No contact is allowed. Just wag your tail and play your part.”
“Listen to me,” Spot tried to hurry, “There is something not right with this one. I am telling you.”
“Save it for the report. Now stop talking, your human is opening the door.”
“Spot!” Mrs. Donovan called. “Where are you? You playing with the neighbor’s dog again? It’s a good thing I got you fixed!” She waved her forefinger from side to side.
Marla’s eyes widened before she stuck her nose into a hole to hide her laughter.
“What was that? Are you having fun with Marla again? Good boy!” Mrs. Donovan waved toward her neighbor, Mr. Bates, who was hunched over trimming his hedges. She grabbed hold of Spot rocking him back and forth in her arms. She took him inside before sliding the glass door shut and locking it.
Spot turned around as she filled his dog bowl full of food. She opened the fridge revealing containers of other human’s body parts displayed and prepared ready to eat.
*'This can’t be normal.'* Spot lowered his eyes down onto the dog food.
Mrs. Donovan was humming a tune while turning on the oven to broil. It didn’t take long before she lifted the pan up onto the table. Spot studied her every move. She slowly raised the cooked human hand up to her mouth. Before taking a bite, she paused. “What’s wrong honey? Are you not hungry tonight? Did you eat a squirrel while you were playing with Marla?”
Spot just kept his eyes locked onto her. She tore off one of the fingers and offered it to him.
*‘Is she seriously offering me what I think she is?’* Spot tilted his head.
“Can you sit?” Mrs. Donovan smiled. “Good boy!” she dropped the finger against the hardwood floor.
Spot felt himself back up against the wall. He knew Marla was still outside. There was no other option. It had to be done. Spot closed his eyes and focused. He didn’t want to do it. In order for him to get to Marla, he had no choice.
“Spot!” Mrs. Donovan jumped from her chair. “Outside! Bad dog!” Spot stepped over where he had pissed on the floor. As soon as the door slid open, he darted across the yard barking the signal for Marla to come to their spot in the fence.
“What are you doing?” Marla rushed over.
“Listen to me,” Spot panted, “There is *really* something not right with this one. You have to call them down, now.”
“I am not going to jeopardize our orbital strategy over this planet because you are too incompetent to play ‘dog.’”
“She’s eating other humans!” Spot yelled so loud that Mrs. Donovan uncrossed her arms and turned her attention onto them by the fence.
Mr. Bates stood up from one of his hedges to look over onto Mrs. Donovan. Marla froze. She watched Mrs. Donovan walk up behind Spot. “Spot, honey, are you sharing our secrets with our neighbors?”
“I’ll bring them down.” Marla whispered before running into her doghouse behind the freshly trimmed hedges.
“What on earth?” Mr. Bates scratched his head after watching everything.
“Mr. Bates, I made some fresh tea in the kitchen; Looks like you could use a break.” Mrs. Donovan waved him over. He took off his gloves and smiled,
“I’ll be right there.”
Spot watched Mrs. Donovan slide the glass door closed. It was like she forgot he was even in the backyard. He watched as she put everything back in the fridge out of sight. She paced back and forth with a knife talking to herself – or maybe she thought that Spot was in there. Spot’s attention turned when Marla raced up to Mr. Bates.
“It’s time!”
Mr. Bates looked down facing Marla before dropping his garden shears. “I figured we’d have more time.”
Spot’s jaw fell into the grass. “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to the humans?!”
“You’re correct Spot, you are not.” Mr. Bates nodded. “And for good reason.”
“Will one of you tell me what is going on?” Spot demanded.
“It’s simple.” Mr. Bates kneeled closer to Spot. “You were undercover. Now we know for certain.”
“Sir, they’re now in orbit.” Marla updated Mr. Bates. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before explaining to Spot that Mrs. Donovan had been the very creature they’ve spent years trying to find.
“Mr. Bates?” Mrs. Donovan opened her sliding door. “The tea’s ready!”
***
Want to read more stories? Visit [13thOlympian](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | Sorry if this is bad
It never faxed me when my human liked to sharpen knives, though they only had two.
It didn’t think twice when my human was obsessed with fire, I heard the species was always amazed by it.
I wasn’t concerned when I found tallies on their arm, I hear it is quite common, though I can’t see why.
I didn’t think twice when, even though he never had a mate, grew protective of two females.
I never was confused when he tried comforting he crying female friend, but it was odd when he started tracking down someone who appeared to hit her.
It wasn’t until he gleefully murdered the human who hit her, that I was worried. He used a mask and a voice hiding contraption of some sort, then proceeded to add another tally to him arm. He stemmed too happy to be doing what he just did. He never killed or attacked anyone who wronged him, just those who wrong the two females he protected. I wanted to talk to him, even though I knew it was wrong, are all those tallies your past victims and why he did what he did.No one ever suspected anyone, they just thought it was random.
Anytime someone would attack my human, he didn’t do anything to protect himself. When someone attack his women or some of his pack, he would “unleash hell” as the humans say. Soon people never messed with them again. Even though he longed to kill or for a fight, he didn’t do anything to feed into his wants.
Once both his women got hit in a shooting, he snapped. Though both survived, he still did everything he can to hunt down the shooters. He spent every waking hour tracking down the humans. Eventually, he found them. He never killed him, though he caused as much pain as he could while keeping him alive. Then dissolved the bodies, alive.
Once the message he left were found, all the blame went to either his women or their family. When it seemed like his women were going to get thrown in jail, he popped up and confessed by giving information only the killer can know. He made sure that it never went public and no one knew he was the one who confessed, they thought he died while at war.
When he was hauled off to prison, they put him on Death Row, his friends and his girls never knew he was the one who killed for them. I found the perfect opportunity to talk to him in private even though it is wrong for me to do so.
When we talked, he explained all of his tallies an told me “I only added the marks when I killed because I believe I needed to give something if I was going to take someone ms life.” When asked about why he chose to confess without publicity, he explained to he that “He didn’t want his friends or those he cared about to think differently of him or be afraid of him.” And when I asked why he wanted to protect those two “girls” as their called, he said “They saved my life, I would be dead by my own had if it wasn’t for them.”
I write this because I know I will be killed for talking to a human. I just wanted to say that we should never attack the humans because they do the damnedest of thing to protect those who save them.
ZÖGERN sighing off
| 2018-10-16T20:16:28 | 2018-10-16T19:35:30 | 31 | 14 |
[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! | "Yeah, like it would stop me. PVC panes and styrofoam. But let's not waste the door just yet. I'll call my landlord."
I dial the number. "Yo, Dreamer [we're on nickname basis], could you get a spare key and let me out? Seems the lock is jammed."
"Okay, be right there!"
I sit on my bed. A minute later the phone rings. It's him. "Funny, my lock is stuck too."
"Okay, I can get out but the door will need to be fixed afterwards."
"Sure thing, it's not like we have much choice. The door is crap anyway, it was long due to be replaced. Could you check my door when you're out? Maybe some asshole poured glue into the locks everywhere?"
The panes take a couple kicks and in seconds I have a sizable hole in the door. I walk to the landlord through the empty staircase, crouch by his door. The lock seems to be okay. I knock. No reply, silence. I press the door handle. Won't budge.
"Hey," I shout through the door. "You there?" I knock a few times.
My phone rings. Him again. "Did you get out?"
"Yeah, I'm standing in front of your door, didn't you hear my knocking and shouting?"
"Not a peep. Wait..." I hear loud thuds over the phone. "Did you hear that?"
"What did you hit? Where are you? I just heard it over the phone!"
"I was hitting my door!"
I hit the door with my fist. "Beating on your door."
"Shit. It's not funny."
I start double checking if I'm at the right door. No way, it can't be any different.
"Wait, hold on, somebody's calling me", he says, then he hangs up.
I wait a minute. Ringtone.
"shit, something's fucked up a lot. Pat called me, saying that she can't get out. From our apartment. Right here, this one. She's not here. She says she's standing right in front of the door. Right where I am standing. We did a test, checked the wardrobe, telling each other what we see. Everything matches except of things we do. Like, I open the bathroom door, she says the bathroom door is closed. What now?"
Sudden thud, explosion, loud distant noise.
"Did you hear that?"
"I saw that! An airplane just crashed into a building a couple blocks away!"
"Shit, shit, shit."
"One good thing, probably there was nobody on board..."
"No shit. Wait, I got a text. Call you in a moment."
I turned back to my flat with ruined door. The phone rang. Dreamer again.
"Just got a text from Raki. Go to Reddit, open the thread about locked door if you want to live. There's a bunch of advice how to get out if one is locked out, and then you'll have a bunch of nuclear power plants all over the world to shut down before they melt down on their own. People are pooling all they know about stuff that can go wrong, everyone's in an individual universe, every single person must save their own world by themselves." | The doors are stuck. There is no light. Where there where houses before, no there is only mine. I have done everything to get out...but no more. I am alone, and I cannot take it anymore. I lay in the dark, scrolling through Reddit one last time. I want to check and see, maybe someone figured it out. But no. There are no new comments...I'm alone and I have decided to escape the only way I can. I turn my music on, and lay in my bed, reaching for the pills I put as many as I can swallow in my mouth and take a drink. I do this three more times and then I wait.
Laying there, feeling the pills start to drain my life, I suddenly hear a noise. Struggling I lift my head, and a face swims into view in front of me. I gasp and my eyes widen, it's harder to stay awake but I fight with all my strength. More faces come to view and I can hear them now. "Where did she get the pills dammit?!" "I don't know, she has been acting out for days, clawing the windows and doors, screaming and crying out" "well go get the doctor now!"
I feel myself beginning to slip away as my mind try's to grasp what is happening, I can feel their hands on my, fighting for my life with machines, pumping my stomach. But I know it is too late...as I leave the world my last thought is one of peace, at least I will not be alone anymore.
When my eyes open, I am in my house, the doors and windows have been stuck for days, but it's ok, I know what I have to do....I don't want to be alone anymore. | 2016-01-31T13:55:51 | 2016-01-31T12:30:51 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] In the distant future, an alien scientist has almost fully deciphered the messages found on the Voyager Spacecraft. With growing horror, the scientist realizes the crafts home system, and begins to pray. | Day 431: We were getting close, and it was worrying. Preliminary research on dating the craft placed it at being between 1200 and 1400 years old, well before any of the great empires had arisen. This had sparked our interest, and the government had commissioned me to decipher the messages that had been found with it. They were old, and had suffered damage, even by the time our survey vessel had picked it up, however we’d started to piece it together. The message disc that had been found with the craft had been sent to our historians, so they could try to ascertain its intended use, and after 2 weeks they concluded that it was designed to play sound. They built replica discs so as to not damage the original any further, and set about getting the replicas to play sounds. Eventually they stumbled upon something that was intelligible, and it appeared to be music of some sort.
Nothing in our records matched that which we discovered on the device, and so we thought our use of it ended and returned our attention back to the craft itself. We couldn’t tell by the design which civilisation had manufactured it, as all civilisations use a wide range of spacecraft designs in their early age, and many were similar. Then the historians, to whom we had returned the disc, got back to us with more information. They’d discovered extra information on the disc. We’d discovered what appeared to be speech sounds on the disc before the music, but the disc had been too damaged for these sounds to be decipherable. However, upon further analysis of the disc, the historians had decided there was more than sound on it, and so had turned it over to another group of scientists who had discovered images. Again, a lot of the information was damaged, but we were able to salvage fragments.
The first fragment appeared some simple mathematical equations. The second appeared to be part of the colour spectrum. The third was a close image of a star, and then the fourth and fifth were of what appeared to be rocky planets or asteroids. The sixth image we salvaged was salvaged almost in full, and is extremely worrying. It is of Earth. The closeness of the image, along with the date of the craft, leads us to believe that it could only have been taken by the humans themselves. My personal recommendation is that the government either destroys this craft and all our records of it, or that we send it on it’s way and destroy all records regardless. If the humans realise that we have something of theirs, something presumably representing a cornerstone of their civilisation, billions could die.
EDIT: OP delivers an update below.
| It's incredible. Forty seven different interpretations of the same messages and over a hundred images. There's still much more to decipher. All of this is on a disc not much larger than a meal plate.
It's taken years to decode. In the end it was so simple. A needle.
What we found was was disturbing.
From our research, the *human* life form created this particular information technology over seventy solar cycles. The propulsion system over an even shorter time.
The downfall of the planet was unfortunate. Despite the exponential speed at which their technology was developing, the desire to cling to conflicting, yet identical, omnipotent deities was their ultimate downfall.
Had this galactic relic been discovered just one hundred revolutions sooner, this civilization could have been saved, and quite possibly been one of the most superior civilizations in the entire galaxy.
The most unfortunate truth is that a few oral traditions and verbal expressions could divide an entire species.
*Allahu Akbar*
*Our Father, who art in heaven...*
Edit: fixed a little something. | 2014-11-09T00:19:17 | 2014-11-09T00:14:24 | 531 | 159 |
[WP] the apocalypse has come and gone, and civilization has started to rebuild itself. you are an archeologist investigating a local legend in a land once called Florida. down at a sacred cape, legend has it that mankind rode dragons into the sky to live in. the stars and promised to return one day | We reached the Sacred Cape in the evening. Sun was setting down, so we decided to set up camp and wait until morning. This place looked nice, warm and fresh air, flat swamps everywhere you look and total darkness, far away from lights of towns and villages, allowing us to see all stars on the sky. And stars... that is the reason why I decided to go here. There are many legends from the times before The Corona, like stories about inhabited land over the Eastern Sea, strange yellow people living on ice plains in the north and long wall going through the desert on the south. But none of them was as exciting as the legend of Elon's dragons from Florida.
We were sitting around the bonfire, eating alligator we caught earlier, and talking. My group was guided by Dragon Guards, ancient cult protecting the Sacred Cape and last dragon sleeping there from intruders. But strangely, they decided to let us in, and even guided us to the dragon. Their small group of solders was even led by their highest priest, Elon CXII.
"Your excellence," I asked him, "this lands are sacred and restricted. Why you decided to allow us passage here?"
The priest took a bite from alligator leg and looked towards the stars while chewing. Then he looked at me.
"The legend is passed down from generation to generation, and even written in our sacred texts," he started, "it says that when The Corona came and started to swallow whole humanity, man named Elon made an army of white dragons, which carried humans to the red planet in the stars, engulfed in flames and with sound of thousand thunders. The legend also says prophecy about the man with locket. Man with locket, who will come from distant land of California to wake up the one remaining dragon and send it to our children, to let them know we survived and to bring them back here."
Then he pointed at me and smiled. Pointed on the golden locket hanging from my neck. I found it few years ago, while digging up ancient city in a place that was indeed named California. It all came to me. This visit will be far more interesting than I expected.
Next day, we continued deeper into the Sacred Cape. More and more ruins of buildings indicated that we are getting closer to the dragon. The priest led us into one building that looked nicer and better maintained than buildings around us. We walked up by stairs and entered large room. There were strange glass tables all around us and gigantic window in the front. And behind the window, in the distance...
There was it. The white dragon. I expected it to look different; it was tall, pointed on the top and shining white.
"It's beautiful," I quietly mumbled.
"We come here often," the priest standing next to me spoke, "we clean and maintain both the dragon and it's lair. The sacred texts tell us how to do it."
I stepped forward and looked around the room. But my eyes caught something. Small dent on one of the glass tables. Dent in the exact shape of...
I quickly took the golden locket from my neck. Looked on dent on the table, hesitated for a moment and pushed it in. Nothing happened for a few seconds... and then light. Light everywhere. All glass tables lighted up and showed strange writings and pictures. And some mysterious woman voice spoke from all sides around me.
'All systems active. Protocol Daedalus loaded up and ready'
"Yes. It's here," the priest screamed, "the prophecy have been fulfilled! Now it's time to read the final passage of sacred texts!"
He stepped to me, put his hands in the air and together with his solders screamed in unison: "Engage protocol Daedalus. Confirmation code 7-7-5-alpha-tango."
'Code confirmed. Protocol Daedalus engaged. 20 seconds to launch'
'Fifteen'
'Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... main engine start... three... two... one... lift-off'
The ground below me have shaken. The dragon in the distance roared louder than thunderstorm and pushed flames and smoke all around him. And then he took off.
'Tower cleared'
It flew slowly at first, but as it was getting higher and higher, it became only small dot of light in the distance.
"Fly, dragon, fly," the priest calmly spoke, "bring children of Earth back home." | "So why'd you drag us down to this backwater swamp?" Colette asked, with a slight eye roll. Though, I couldn't blame her for being apprehensive. After all, we were ankles deep in a swamp with nothing but soggy greens and murky water around for miles.
"We're here to do what we always do, uncover the past and see what we can learn." She gave an exaggerated nod and continued, "Yes Barnett, I know our job description. But what could we ever learn from this muck? What outlandish tip are we following now?"
"Well Colette, we're because local legend suggest says that some of mankind rode on dragons into the sky to live in and escape the impending disaster. Supposedly, they planned to return one day."
Her immediate laughter was an expected response. The duration of it, however, was not expected.
"Lemme catch my breath a bit, before I.." Colette attempted to talk between her fits of laughter, all the while slinging mud around as he stomped off her energy. "Phew. Okay, so we're here chasing dragons, then?"
"No. However, if you come to your senses, I'm sure you're well aware that myth is often based in truth. In this case, we believe this legend originates from the time of spaceflight and that this land was once used as some type of launching center for space vehicles."
"You really believe that we were once capable of spaceflight, Barnett? Look, I know that before the Last War, our technology far surpassed anything we've had since then. But spaceflight? And here in the backwater land of Cape Cannibal of all places?"
I laughed to myself hearing that name. She was right, locals did call this place Cape Cannibal. No one was really sure why though, considering that there was no verified reports of cannibalism in any of the local inhabitants. Perhaps it was a misconstruction of its original name. I knew I had been mentally digress for too long, judging by the scowl from Colette.
"You see, the sea levels were once much lower than they are today. This area used to be less swampy and more beachy. It's likely that any remnants of the launch center are deep underwater and barely recognizable as human constructions."
"Well then, I have to ask you again. Why did you drag us down to this backwater swamp? Especially if there's nothing here for us to find?"
I smiled and looked up towards the sky. "The lesser known part of that local legend is the return of the dragons. It says that in the days leading up to it, they will encircle the sky with flame, spiraling out in all directions, to signal their imminent return."
I followed Colette's gaze as she looked up. Just barely visible against the twilight sky, a small ring of fire was hovering in the sky. Her eyes widened as her hands clasped over her mouth.
"The locals have been seeing this for about a week now. I think we're on to the discovery of our careers..." | 2020-03-11T08:28:29 | 2020-03-11T07:47:50 | 575 | 96 |
[WP]You are a guard in a video game. The main character thinks that they are always able to successfully sneak past you. They don't, you notice every time but would prefer not to have you and your friends be mercilessly slaughtered. | "Jorun, it's that guy again."
Jorun rolled his eyes. "Gonna need you to be a tad more specific, Karl. Lot's of guys around here."
"Oh, right. Uhm, remember the one that thought he could sneak around in full plate armor if he just stuck to the shadows?"
"Uhg, again?"
"Well, now he's wearing dragon bones."
"And that's your first clue," Jorun said sarcastically.
"My what?" Karl glanced sideways, and noticed how Jorun had his eyes shut behind the slits in his helmet.
"Your first clue. Actually it's your second. The first should have been when he *appeared in front of us out of nowhere*."
"I just figured I'd zoned off for a bit. You know how it goes."
"You didn't, the freak just popped up out of thin air. Oh, shit. There's clue number three."
"The fuck does he think he's doing?!" Karl shouted, earning him a bang on the helmet from Jorun's spear.
"Keep quiet, you idiot. How long do you think you'll last against the Dragonborn?"
"He's the Dragonborn? I thought he was supposed to some kind of savior?"
"For the world, yeah, not for the little guy. The little guy is always fucked. Best get used to it now."
"So we let him run wild and shout his way through whatever shitstorm he causes?"
"Oh yeah."
"That's messed up."
"It's not as bad as you think," Jorun said, a sly smile curling his lips. "The amount of treasure that fool dumps into the shops more than makes up for any damages he causes. He never even asks full price, just wants to get rid of his loot."
"But that only benefits the bigger shops, not the people in the marketplace that lose all their wares or Gods forbid their lives!"
"It does, actually."
"What? How?"
"The merchant's profit margins are so high that the taxes on their profit bring in enough coin for the treasury to cover all expenses due to 'Chosen Ones'. Even a resurrection once every few weeks is no problem anymore."
Karl blinked a few times. "I think I get it," he ventured. "If we try to arrest him, we might lose his business, and we can't have that?"
"Oh no," Jorun laughed. "But it's a brilliant excuse to use before the Jarl. Good thinking!"
Karl smiled hesitantly.
"No," Jorun continued. "We leave him alone because he can kill the entire garrison on his own."
This time Karl smacked Jorun over the head with his spear. "Next time lead with that info, and leave the speech on economics for after, you old smart-ass."
Jorun sniggered. "He's coming this way! Tell him about that shield you lost on your way to the Greybeards last week and that you'll be ever so grateful if someone could go and get it for you."
"What? I didn't lose my shield. The Captain would kill me!"
"Don't matter, tell him anyway. He'll be looking for it all over the mountains."
"Oooh," Karl said. "That shield. The one a troll snatched away near Labyrinthian."
"Exactly."
They grinned wide and waited for the Dragonborn to approach them. What good was being a guard if you didn't get to mess with anyone? | "This side up", the box read, as all the others did. Only the big black arrow was pointing down, and the box hadn't been there a minute ago. I sighed, rolling my eyes, and thought back to simpler times, when we were untargetable, patrolling the prisons from the ramparts with sniper rifles. When protagonists could only stun or distract us and sneak by. Then some developer decided "Ohey wouldn't it be nice if you could kill the guards too?"
Some of us tried to fight it. Rest in peace, Greg. Others, like me, played it smart. We discarded most of our ammo and weapons in conspicuous locations far away from us, to lure the protagonists away. We wore terrible armor and carried weapons that jammed all the time. Nothing worth salvaging. And we became the most oblivious guards anywhere.
I mean sure, the protagonists could kill us. But most of them would just let us be, content with rifling through our pockets for the few coins we carried. I saw my buddy Tom get shot in the head and chalked it down to "just my imagination" out loud, walking away after a few moments of grief. I got through Skyrim. Freaking Skyrim, with all the completionists crawling about.
And so, that brings me here, staring at this cardboard box of a protagonist's feeble attempt to hide. I can hear him reloading his gun underneath. He just lifted the box a few inches off the ground and peeked his head out at me. Thankfully, I spun around in time. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll think that's how guards patrol. Just spinning around randomly in hallways. Hell, this isn't even a real door I'm facing. It's just an image of a door they glued to the wall. What the hell does he think I'm expecting to pop out of it?
I turned and just made eye contact. I think I'll slowly grow an exclamation point over the course of 3 seconds and give him time to hide or leave. Oh god, he's not leaving. He's drawing his pistol. Remember me. | 2017-05-29T01:45:41 | 2017-05-28T22:04:57 | 191 | 85 |
[WP] There are mostly two types of extreme ideologies in the universe. A civilization either despises all forms of conflict even in entertainment, or embraces it to the fullest extent. Humans are awkwardly in the middle along with few other races. | "They are... progressing differently compared to the other subjects."
"What do you mean?"
The several armed scientist stretched her nimble hands outwards towards the panoramic spread of displays, all holographic and spread without any semblance of order, I guess like 'several tabs left open' would be the way to put it. Yet in her mind, their placement wasn't random, it had purpose, she knew where to look.
"For example, here is planet C-13875." She pulled up an image of a red planet, its surface covered with red and coarse sand, its inhabitants mirroring its colour and their own beast-like nature. Protruding tusks, long sharp claws, excreted venom, as they all leaped upon another. "The test subjects of this planet were given all the tools to be perfect, to thrive, to be overlords, yet this nature made them increasingly savage and devoid of reason.
"Here is another planet, another one of our test subjects." This time, the land seemed a tranquil blue, serene in every way, and just like the last, its inhabitants mirrored it. "Among with many other subjects, we genetically modified them so that they would be docile, seek companionship, it took time, but there would never be any cause for them to rip at each other, or show any malicious intent."
"Interesting Sak'rani." The captain said, genuine intrigue lining his voice.
"Yes, captain. But even so, not the desired results that we wanted." Sak'rani's arms seemed to float about her, ready to pounce upon the many holographic displays before her and manipulate them with such blurring speed and alacrity that it seemed she was born for the task, and indeed she was.
"What is it you wanted to show me?"
"Well..." Sak'rani seemed almost hesitant, before pulling forward one particular display from a jumble on the side, and maximizing its size as if to present a screen for a theatrical film. "It's called Earth."
"One of ours?"
"No sir, a natural phenomenon of interstellar formed civilization."
"Impossible." The captain grew wide-eyed, turning to Sak'rani. "How can there be a civilsation that evolved to such a degree without any aid?"
"I thought so too. But I checked the numbers again and again, and they do not lie."
"Have you told anyone of this?"
"Only you."
"Good, we wouldn't want to cause any alarm." The captain reached out the holographic image, as if almost wishing to touch its surface with his pale hands.
"What can we determine from them?"
"Well, this is the weirder part, they do not seem to be going through any signs of extreme violence, or docility. They have found a quite unusual and baffling equilibrium between the two."
"How can that be?"
"I don't know captain." Sak'rani pulled up an image of several other project planets. "All of our test subjects so far have either gone to one extreme of violence and tore at each other until there was nothing left, or have become so docile that they showed no signs of ever actually wishing to progress as a civilsation, in fact, they quite often become so lethargic that they sleep until they're dying breaths."
"So what makes this Earth so unique? We have planets that show this equilibrium of yours."
"Yes, but nothing like anything that they exhibit. Our planets have shown a term which I came to come to term 'Passive-Equilibrium' most of their behaviour is triggered through circumstance and environment, causing them to show a state of aggression or companionship depending on their environment."
"And?"
"Well, it would seem a lot of Earth's strife is due to their own volition."
"What does that mean?"
"That the cause for their evolution, is a constant cyclical system of war and strife, which is then mended through love and nurture, like the breaking and mending of bones. They seem to have adopted a rather crude, but nonetheless effective system of conflict being an opportunity for their evolution."
The captain fell silent, again Sak'rani's arms adrift in the air as if sailing through water. "Captain?" She asked.
"Do we know of a potential 'God Program'?"
"They seem to have several deities that they worship, but if there were ever another race that was the cause of their existence; is still inconclusive."
"Prepare a ship. We need samples." | “Hey hey calm down!” Jerry said raising his voice. Arbitrating negotiations between the two races would be harder then he thought. “Now look I understand you don’t care for it.... but they do and why go about causing trouble over it” Jerry had been at this job for nearly 5 years now. Ever since it was realized man was perhaps the most neutral race galaxy; man became the galaxy’s negotiators. Keeping peace was a profitable business and Jerry was good at it.
As he sat in his office reading over reports his assistant put a folder on his desk. Saying to him “Sir those are the days requests for services” Jerry nodded and began going through. Jerry was so successful nowadays that he had to turn away customers. Today though one case in particular caught his eye. The Praxi Guard & the Continuum two species from the far galactic rim were in disagreement. Both species has histories of violence and war was a real possibility.
Jerry took the journey to the outer rim which took about two Earth days time. The negotiations were set to occur on a small uninhabited world in a nearby uninhabited star system. As Jerry landed on the star port he was greeted by delegations of both sides.
After some small talk they got to the matter at hand. The dispute had began over a missing Continuum ship. The Praxi Guard claimed they had nothing to do with the incident. But the Continuum see it another way. They think that the Praxi Guard destroyed the ship. Jerry had done his research as he always had. The two had disputes in the past. But never a full on war; although this time there was a real chance of it.
Jerry began first by addressing the Continuum’s representative “What sort of ship was it?” The representative responded “An unarmed surveying ship.” Jerry gave the representative a nod and turned to The Parxi Guard representative “Have your people in the past ever attacked an unarmed ship posing no threat?” The Parxi Guard responded quickly “Of course not why would we?” Discussion went on for sometime but after a while a preliminary agreement was made. For now the next week Continuum would search for the missing craft. If it was not found in a weeks time they would reopen negotiations.
Jerry was satisfied with this conclusion but knew it might not last. To his surprise the peace did last. The Continuum ship was found crashed from what appeared to be a faulty reactor. Jerry collected his pay and let both civilizations know if they needed him again not to hesitate.
Jerry looked out his ship’s window as it prepared for hyperspace. Off in the distance from this vantage point appearing about the size of the moon on Earth; he saw a nebula. He thought to himself how nice it would be to have a place with a view of that. Then his ship vanished as if it had never existed as it entered hyperspace. | 2018-01-19T06:39:26 | 2018-01-19T05:47:52 | 112 | 12 |
[WP] Write a dystopian vision of the future from the perspective of the year 1900, while actually describing our present world today. | Reginald,
I had a dream last night, dearest brother. A dream of the future. It left me most dyspeptic, and I fear in what may come to pass.
I walked through cities empty of signs of industry. No smoke stacks rising, no coal fires burning, no sound of horse hooves on the streets. They were barren, and though the motor car had continued the march of progress, everywhere seemed to be shops selling little better than children's toys.
I would like to speak of our home as paradise in the future, yet it was paradise lost. The Manor is a grand home, full of life and love. Yet in that future it was but a tawdry museum, a relic for the common man to walk around, to poke and to prod and see how the upper classes once lived. Our descendants had no business stopping them. They were on the edge of bankruptcy, and the house required more to maintain than the land income generated.
There were no maids or butlers in my vision, either. Such jobs had long since died out. Fearfully, women had the vote, using their small minds to wreck havoc on the economy. Moral bankruptcy was everywhere. Those of, shall we say, foreign tastes, were no longer sent to gaol. God was forgotten in preference to the cold clinic of reason. And the vulgar tastes in clothing meant even the highest in society revealed more flesh than a fallen woman plying her trade.
And who were the highest in this nightmare? Why, not the ministers of government, seen with derision for their efforts. Nay! The music hall entertainer was the pinnacle of social achievement! Or a sportsman, playing common games such as football!
The Empire was lost, too. India, Canada, Australia - even our holdings in China. All gone. Queen Victoria's empire was consigned to the history books. Instead we had built some form of locomotive tunnel to France, allowing the continentals easy access if they wished to invade us. The navy that had spawned Nelson and Cochrane now numbered too few vessels to stop even a tug boat.
Thank our Lord it was but a dream. For none appreciated the burdens of privilege in that future. Anyway, I must leave you now. When shall I come and visit? It is but a two day trip to reach you in the country, after all. It has been three months since Mary died of polio, and I could use the company.
Yours sincerely,
Charles | To the east sits a sits a man too powerful for any nation to publicly oppose. To the west stands a nation that has decided to police the entire world. In our own lands those in power are willingly handing the reigns of our sovereign soil over to people in far off lands no matter how hard the common man struggles against it.
To the south millions die from hunger and disease while I sit and do nothing. I am not hungry, I am not cold, I am not scared. I wake up, I work, I sleep. I move where work moves, I live in a house not my own and can be thrown out at the whim of the owner.
I am no longer a man, I am a cow. I work for one man, and is milked by another. Vaguely aware of the scores dying or threatened around me, but I don't care as long as there is feed in the trough and warm hay to sleep in. | 2015-12-19T08:25:28 | 2015-12-19T07:56:35 | 2,295 | 400 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | The Dark Tower was wreathed in flame. Buttresses arched unnaturally, suspended by spite alone. The blade-like pinnacles of the fortress pierced the morbid clouds, the earth and sky locked in their eternal torture, endlessly fighting for the attention of Her.
Her. The Dreadwife. The Hellspawn Harlot, the Mistress of Misery; She Who Hungers, the Slave Mother, the Unconquerable Cancer of the World.
Tall and terrible stood she: skin pale and distended, like a corpse in a stagnant pool. A noisesome stench rose from her tattered robes, a choking vomit of air, putrid and corrupting. Those that gazed upon her unnatural flesh would find their sanity lost; those whose minds had broken crawled endlessly beneath her clawed feet, their wailing souls creating a living carpet of broken things.
Upon her throne, crafted of still-feeling captured nerves, She sits. She plots. She hates. Her baleful gaze turns upon the realms of Men. Soon, She knows. Soon they will fall, and the lands will be covered in a new darkness of no end.
At the far end of the hopeless corridor, the great steel doors open. Rusted metal screams, drowning out even the tortured souls embedded in the walls. The murky green light shadows a form in the doorway. Eyes, sewn shut millennia ago, turn to follow the figure on its lonely path. Slowly, carefully, it approaches Her.
She draws breath, hisses, the sulphurous stench becoming a noxious gas escaping her needle teeth.
“Why come you here, wretch? We are fashioning Our plans.”
There is gentle tinkle, and the figure places upon a writhing slave a teacup and saucer. Steam rises from the cup.
“You mentioned camomile, it might be good for you.”
Eyes as old as stars, and as cold and bitter, gazed upon the figure.
“Yesss...it helps us sleep.” | [Poem]
An ancient adoration
Begets black,
cruel,
devilish deeds:
Entering elephants
for fearful football
games; gathering
harmful herbs
in icecream;
jerkishly jaywalking;
killing kids;
lying; looking like
more manly men; making
no niceties;
opening others’
presents; placating
Quetzalcoatl-
ritual
sacrifices; sometimes
twisting time to take twins to the
Underworld;
vacating
Waterworld with wicked
xenophobia;
yeeting yellow
Zebra Zombies. | 2020-04-14T05:42:17 | 2020-04-14T05:22:45 | 181 | 74 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | "Honey. Are you still angry at me?"
Vix, Empress of Medium Earth, Lady of Darkness, Queen of the Shadows let out a sigh, looking up from my throne to face her husband Andrew. He looked back at her, guilt and remorse spread across his face.
"I'm not angry at you," she muttered reluctantly. "I'm angry at the situation."
Andrew nodded in understanding. "I think maybe we should talk about it. If you're not ready yet, we can do it later," he replied.
Vix let out another sigh. She really didn't want to have this conversation.Still, communication was the foundation of all good relationships. "It's just," she paused, trying to think of how to articulate what she wanted to tell him. "Let me start by saying this. I know that all of this," she gestured at the skulls that lined the chamber around her, the furniture made from the bones of her enemies, and the two whimpering men shackled in chains in the corner of the room, "is not really your thing. And I really appreciate you being comfortable with it all."
"Well, I was never any good at interior design. Sure, it's not my style, but it's definitely got style," he replied, giving her a wink.
Vix gave her husband a smile. "You know that's not what I'm talking about. But thank you."
Andrew grinned back at her.
"No, I know that this isn't perhaps the lifestyle you would normally choose. Not to mention it comes with its own difficulties. We have to travel a lot to check on the Empire, and I have very little free time, not to mention the fact that there is a certain stigma that comes with my job. And I love that you've been trying to get involved!"
Andrew nodded. "But it has gone pretty terribly hasn't it?"
Vix hesitated. "I wouldn't say terribly," she said gently.
"I would," Andrew replied."I mean, there was the incident with 'The Spider'."
Vix winced slightly at the memory. Andrew had thought it would be a good idea to get to know her coworkers, and had decided to befriend her favourite assassin. After Andrew had advised him to follow his dreams, The Spider had decided to retire to open up a flower shop. Killing him had been a real shame, and his replacement just wasn't the same.
"Not to mention my attempt at being a torturer," he continued.
That had been frustrating. Andrew had tried tickling them. As an actual serious attempt. It would have been cute if they hadn't been withholding the knowledge of an approaching army. Not to mention he had fed all the prisoners that they were trying to starve tea and cake.
"And my stint as a negotiator didn't exactly succeed," he muttered.
True. Andrew had accidentally helped her soldiers set up a union. It had taken her months to stomp that notion out of them.
"And ruling one of the cities for you was a catastrophe."
Yes, the city of Vil declaring independence after he took over had caused her plenty of headaches.
He gave her a resigned look. "Perhaps I'm just not cut out for this. All I ever seem to do is burden you."
"Darling, that is not true!" Vix replied.
"Isn't it? I don't seem to help you at all!"
"Don't be ridiculous! You have been incredibly supportive. Most men and women would try to talk me out of my job. You not only encourage me, but actively try to get involved! You don't complain about the long hours, the travel, or the fact that we can't really make many friends! Even though I feel like I always have to have my game face on, I know I can always come to you when I need a break. I am so lucky to have you. I really wouldn't be able to do this without you!"
Vix stood up and moved towards her husband, clasping his hands within her own.
"Perhaps we've been going about this the wrong way. What's something that you would like to do? Not to support me and further my goals, but something that brings you joy?" she asked.
Andrew shook his head. "No, we need to help with your career. After all it is more important. You worked so hard to get here."
"That is not true. We are equals in this relationship. And this conversation has helped me realise there hasn't been much compromise on my part."
"Well," Andrew said hesitantly, "remember back at the Inn where we first met? I was about to start learning to be a cook. Before you killed them all of course."
"Really?" Vix exclaimed in surprise. "You never told me that!"
"Well to be fair, there was a lot going on at the time!" Andrew chuckled.
"That's very true. Well how about this? You join the palace kitchens to learn from the cooks there. And then later, when you feel ready for it, we can send you out to the cities that are starting to feel discontent, and you can cook for the poor there, on behalf of the Empress. That seems suitably kind hearted that you might enjoy it?"
"That... that sounds perfect!" Andrew exclaimed excitedly. "And, while I'm doing that, I can keep listen and see if anyone is planning on uprising. And maybe even slip some poison into their food!"
"Darling, that is positively evil. I love it!" Vix exclaimed.
"Well, I am learning from the best," he replied, giving her a wink.
"You sly man. You really know how to make a Dark Lord feel special," Vix said with a blush. "You know what, I think I can take the afternoon off. Let me just kill those two in the corner, and we can spend some quality time together." |
“…And when the oppressors finally face their doom, they will know why is it that I’m called The Grudge!” I hammered the steel podium in front of me with a fist and watched it crumple like a tin can. The wave of stunned silence in the great field was breached by a triumphant uproar. My soldiers cried my name in reverence, their eyes gleaming, their hands raised in right angle in the ritual salute. Thousands upon thousands of rows of men and women, proclaiming their eternal devotion for me. I smiled one of my few chosen smiles saved for just such occasion, and presented them the ritual salute back. They loved this crap. The more they loved it, the more intense their faith became. The faith fuelled their belief in my powers. And so rose the power of The Grudge.
When I returned to my chambers it was well nigh past dinner. The ceremony had stretched too long, with me recounting all the evils that the oppressors had wrought, and how they would be paid back in their blood. Then my ministers seized their chance, having their own little versions of chest pumping speeches. They received applause too – and as long as they swore their fealty to me in the end, it would all serve only The Grudge. But Gods, it was exhausting.
Dismissing my aides for the day I retreated to my dining hall. It was difficult not to show I was starving in front of my underlings, but decades of cruel training had ingrained these reflexes in my bones. There was already someone sitting at the table, head down, scribbling along in notebooks and humming a cheerful tune – a sharp contrast against the servants who rushed to set the table with a tenuous perfection. He jumped as the echoes of my stride broke his concentration, then smiled.
“Hon, you are back! But its so late!” He checked his wrist. “Oh, poor dear, have you eaten anything?! Sit down, sit down!” He rushed to me, taking me by the hands and kissing me to the flustered astonishment of the servants,
“Michael!” I hissed, feigning annoyance. But I knew that he knew – this was the first time today that I was truly at ease. I cleared the creases of his coat lapels, enjoying for a moment his embrace before we parted.
As I sat down to eat he sat next to me, my ever doting husband. It was silly really, The Grudge herself being pampered by someone, and I kept telling him that. It had no effect on him.
“How was your day, darling?”
I sighed. There were servants within the earshot. “I would rather hear about you day, Michael.”
His face lit up. “Oh, I was thinking about what you said the other day, about me gaining some followers too – I think I came up with a great salute!”
“Oh?” I smiled. This had ought to be good.
“Yeah, let me show you. Tom, would you come here for a second?” The server nodded and rushed to the table, his face ever tense, droplets of sweat lining his temples. If I crushed him the man would ooze sweat like a sponge dipped in water, I thought.
“Oh, would you relax?” Michael chimed in and the spell was broken. The server blinked, breathing deeply and freely. “Remember what I taught you a today? Let’s try it out, okay?”
They raised their hands simultaneously as if greeting each other, then shifted forward and clapped each other palms resoundingly. I stopped chewing my food at that bizarre display.
“I call it the High-Five!” Michael declared. It was a nice ritual salute. I could feel Tony’s – or whatever the servant’s name was – devotion for my husband. Devotion without fear. Interesting. “Isn’t it great? You can go now, Tom, thanks!”
“Very… original, Michael.”
He settled down besides me. “You didn’t like it?”
“I liked it very much. But you seemed to have forgotten something. You can’t ‘High-Five’ a million followers. That would get a bit tedious.”
He laughed. The kind one does without fear of retribution. It was uncanny.
“I know! I am not planning to have a million of people following me anyway. A few will suffice. Let’s say – enough so that I may ‘High-Five’ them all.”
I stifled my grin. | 2020-04-14T06:39:01 | 2020-04-14T06:09:54 | 439 | 320 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | The corridors were long and dark, the stone was cold and unyielding. Your naked feet dragged through the floor as manacles made of ethereal power kept you unable to escape, to move, to step away from the incoming fate.
You had had years to think this through, years scratching little squiggles on the mirror surface of your cell as your box floated, one window projected the starry sky, the other... the execution grounds.
The Court was cruel in that way, they allowed the inmates to see the deaths, you were free to ignore them of course, force yourself to watch into the illusion to spend the time, watch and let the minutes and hours and days bleed away until it was your turn.
Not you, you had kept a very close eye on those executions.
It was execution by Genie.
One single wish, one that the old Genie would twist into one for your instantaneous demise. You had heard the stories, the more wishes a Genie granted the more powerful it would become. And this one?
This Genie was almost as old as the Court itself.
And its power to grant wishes was truly something to stand in awe of.
Wish for death of old age? Then you become decrepit within the snap of fingers, your heart stopping right after. Wish to die in combat? Then the Genie himself will let you fight some nightmarish abomination. Wish to die along your enemy? A snap of the fingers, they would die, but the Genie would bring the others back to life.
One by one, they would all die. Some begged for it to be pleasant, death through orgy or through a feast. Some would beg to die in the arms of their loved ones. A few would get imaginative, death through black hole, death through bomb, death through a collapse in reality. All of them fulfilled in their own way, the people sent into universes that would fulfil the clause.
Once a man asked to die through resurection. That one had been amusing to consider. Up and until he was informed he already had. Time and again, forced to relive his life and die, over and over, unaware of the loop he'd been trapped in and only ever told this truth right before he was snapped back to the start.
And now it was your turn.
The Court lay in front of you, three pillars of infinite stone, atop which sat the judges. The Genie stood at the side, almost invisible in its shadow, the simplicity of the creature's features betraying its power. He looked like any other man, a forgettable face, pale skin, and a nondescript round nose.
Not a word was uttered by the Court, merely the sound of the gavel, the formality of the rite.
The Genie stepped forward. "How do you wish to die?" He asked you. It was in the eyes that you found the truth of its existence, an eternal abyss that did not see you, they saw everyone who'd stood on your spot before you.
You breathed in.
"I wish to experience every death there is to be had."
A flash of amusement crossed the Genie's lips, the only sign of emotion he had shown since you'd first seen him.
"It will be so."
He snapped his fingers. The world swirled around you, everything shifted and changed. Time itself seemed to lose meaning as your thoughts scattered and reformed. All had changed, all was different.
You found yourself kneeling, head bowed against the ground. Before you there were three chairs, oaken and old. Sitting in each were familiar faces.
"With this ritual, we bind you to our will." The closest voice spoke with power, the words seeping into and through you. "You will be the Court's executioner, Genie, may the pillars of the Court become ever higher through your service."
Your breath caught in your throat, the smirk upon your lips hidden, you allowed yourself to follow the impulses the magical bindings lay upon you. For the time being, all you had to do was obey, wait... and grant wishes. | The line had been excruciatingly long, almost unbearably so. Prisoner number after prisoner number was called, each time slowly getting closer to the one that I held. We were given numbers at the start, much like we were just waiting in line at the DMV or at the doctor's office. If only this was as nice of a scenario. I listened to each prisoner list out how they wanted to go, most said something along the lines of what I had planned for, lethal injection. Fast and moderately painless was all I could hope for.
*Prisoner number 2754920, please step forward*. I was next, and I was bored, so rather than continue counting the audience members, I listened in on this guy's conversation with the judge.
"How do you wish to die today, sir?"
"I wish to die of old age."
I was floored, stunned. No one had said anything like that before. I watched as before my eyes he was turned into an old man, dying of old age just as he had asked. *Shit*, I thought. *We can wish for stuff like that?*
"Your wish has been granted. Carry on. Next is prisoner number 2754921, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
I was frozen, unable to move. What do I do now? My plan crumbled before me as I watched an old man be helped out of the courtroom.
"Prisoner number 2754921, if you do not step forward, a death will be assigned to you, and I guarantee it will be less pleasant than what you have envisioned for yourself."
I felt a guard shove his gun into my back, pushing me towards the center of the court. I moved what felt like legs of lead and feet of cement, inching closer towards the marked destination. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, a way to cheat the system, and it was as if all the weight fell off of me at once. Everyone had chosen a realistic death, but if I were to choose something unrealistic, surely magic had it's limitations.
"How do you wish to die today, young one?"
A dream I had had since a child, being a pirate and dying a way only heard in tales. "I wish to die at sea from the beast, the Kraken," I stated, stifling a laugh.
"Your wish has been granted. Next is prisoner number 2754922, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
*I thought there were no limitations, but I was soon to find out just how wrong I was as I was led towards a door that smelled of the sea.* | 2021-06-24T07:22:01 | 2021-06-24T03:42:17 | 1,307 | 66 |
[WP] For centuries Elves held a Monopoly on Magic and only a select few Humans where taught Magic who were easily controlled. That's why they freaked out when a Human Bandit learned Magic. You are this Bandit and you are having the time of your live tricking and robbing those Elves in your Woods. | The art of spellcasting was woven in mystique. Humans and dwarves could call upon the elves to help them through magic, for a good penny of course. The dwarves were far too stubborn to pay elves for anything but rich humans like kings, nobles or merchants often employed their services. The wealthiest usually had one or two elves living in to ask their aid whenever it was needed.
The elves would waive their hands through the air, drawing invisible symbols in the air while muttering long words in a foreign, unknown language. Every elf knew magic but they refused to have human apprentices.
“Humans are too whimsical, they’ll be distracted and obsessed with something else before they’ve mastered the very basics. And even if they dedicate all their time to studying magic: they’re too short lived. By the time they knew basic spells, they are on the verge of death,” an elf explained me once. He was hired by my father: a successful merchant who traded in spices.
Unfortunately, my father fell on hard times and by the time he was on his deathbed, there was not a cent left of the promised heritage. I never learned a trade or something useful because I always thought I would be settled for life. I had no appetite for slaving away as a simple handyman either.
Thus I chose a risky occupation instead: that of a bandit. And one day I was hiding in the bushes of a forest, waiting for an ignorant passerby to ambush. It was then that two elves walked over the path, unaware of the human hiding nearby. They looked like two teenagers, though that could easily mean they’re already over a century old.
“… seen that man’s face. He was in awe!”
“I can imagine, you always make quite a show out of it. If only they realized it’s all a theatre.”
“They won’t, they’re far too dumb.”
I resisted the urge to fire arrows at the laughing, boisterous elves. They obviously referred to humans being dumb. What a hateful, arrogant species they are. We might be unable to perform any magical feats, but we’re far from stupid.
Only then I realized a far more important truth: “it’s all a theatre”. They couldn’t possible mean .. A suspicion and an idea slowly formed in my mind. I went back home to my little hut – the only thing my father still owned when he died – and slammed my pocket watch against the table. The glass cracked on the impact. A real shame as it was an expensive, good looking watch. I stole it from a salesman a year prior.
Eager to test my suspicion, I raced to the village, to one of the shops the elves had established in town. Here villagers could go and hire their services. I barged in, frantically looking around for the elf on duty. There was one seated in the corner, softly whistling a tune while reading a book.
“I need your help, please!” I ignored the look of disdain the elf gave me as I stood there, breathing hard and sweat on my forehead. “I broke my mother’s watch. It’s all I have left of her. Can you still repair it, please? Just tell my your price, I’m sure I can scrap the gold I need together!”
I showed him the pocket watch, holding in tenderly in two hands as if it were a kitten, so delicate and breakable. The elf – I wasn’t entirely sure about their gender – took it and set it on the work bench in front of him.
“Hmm, I think I can help you. It’s a relatively simple spell, it will be five gold.”
Five gold, I was getting ripped off. But I played the role of desperate man whishing to restore the last keepsake he had of his mother, so I agreed and handed them the gold.
Immediately they went to work: they graciously moved their hands around in intricate patterns while incanting a strange song. Sometimes they whispered the words, then raised their volume and let it sink down again.
Discretely I studied their movements and tried to remember recognizable, unique movements. I listened closely to the general flow of the music and noticed some odd vowel-consonant combinations. “Goimprs jlung kva-an,” they repeated three or four times throughout the whole ritual.
By the end – I estimated this lasted about two minutes – smoke rose up from the glass, obscuring it for a moment. When it was lifted, I could clearly see the glass was mended again.
“Oh thank the gods!” I exclaimed and grabbed the watch again.
“The gods didn’t do that,” protested the elf but I already ran out the shop.
I repeated this little play in all three elven shops across town. None of the rituals even remotely resembled the others. But if this wasn’t what created the magic – what did?
I discarded the theory that it might be innate: if that was the case, they could just tell us.
Something in the ritual must be the explanation, but I couldn’t possibly keep paying elves to mend items for me: the last time already cost me thirteen gold pieces, which was the better part of my money.
Instead I decided to go with a plan so stupid that I had never even heard tale of someone attempting it: break in in an elven shop and look around for clues to uncovering their secret.
A week later, after meticulous planning, the plan was set in motion. Every Friday evening the elven shops went out to a tavern. That’s when I would enter one of the shops. All of them were guarded, fortunately they were humans. I offered the fellow – Stevenson was the name – a drink which he reluctantly excepted.
“I can’t possibly drink while I’m on duty,” he protested. But my argument that it was only one drink was enough to win him over. Unbeknownst to him, there was some magudala in it, a strong sedative. Within minutes, he was snoring against the side of the building.
Carefully I unlocked the door and made my way in. The front shop was almost empty bare a few trinkets for sale on the shelves. I skipped this and went through the door behind the counter. On the looks of it, it was an office. There were papers laying around, graphs with what I assumed to be sales numbers and a couple of books on a desk. The first two books were just novels. The third was locked, but that couldn’t stop a simple thief like me. A couple of seconds later, it clicked open.
“*Someone once told me a diary should start on a happy note. But I can’t muster any happiness or positivity right now. Oh how I whish to be home. Oh how I long for my Gwendolyth.*
*So pretty and youthful she is, she can get anyone. Will she still be waiting for me when I come back from this post? For the first time I can relate with humans: ten years feels like an eternity now*.”
I almost gagged. This book definitely should be locked. Not for privacy reasons, but to save our sanity. I placed the book back and continued my search. The desk had three drawers. The first two were filled with general office equipment: ink and feathers, wax and seals and so forth. The third was locked again and it posed no problem to me.
In it were some leatherbound books. I opened one and was met with a handwritten script that I recognized, but didn’t know: elven. Fortunately, I had thought ahead for once and grabbed a pocket dictionary from beneath my robes.
As I was unfamiliar with the alphabet, it took a while before I found the first word. Ironically, it meant “Alphabet”. Eagerly I looked for the second word: “List”. “Of” and “spells” were the next two words.
That’s all I needed to know. I grabbed all four books in the drawer and carefully made my way out. By the time the sun rose and the elves returned to the store to found their guard sleeping and office robbed, I was halfway across the country. | Sam sat crouched in the shadow of a large oak, slowly creeping towards where the two elves had gathered. Dried leaves crunched and rustled with every step so Sam carefully threaded a path in behind a bush and listened carefully.
“Lydia,” an Elf snapped. “You better hope nothing happens the cache or Vacour will be furious.” Peering through the gaps in the bush, the Elf that was talking was just like the rest of them, Sam noticed. Light brown skin and a face made of misery. Long, dirty blonde hair, the Elf had the standard bow and arrow wrapped around his back. And there, between the two Elves' feet, nearly completely hidden beneath dirt and leaves. was a box. Sam knew the type. A delightfully designed box covered in runes and images of famous elves, long dead.
“Of course not, Brioch,” Lydia snarled. Even without seeing her face, Sam knew she was furious. “Nothing will happen to the gold. Relay that to Vacour yourself, if you want.” Neither said a word as Sam held his breath. Finally, Brioch broke the silence.
“Good to hear, Lydia,” he chuckled. “Sounds like you finally found your backbone.”
“What would you know about backbones, Brioch?” Lydia accused the male Elf. He only smirked and turned away from her.
“Oh and do be on the lookout for that bandit, Lydia.” smiled Brioch, who turned back to face her. “It would be awful to lose yet another Elf and cache to him.” With that Brioch disappeared, shifting quickly through the trees.
“Prick,” Lydia muttered, as she took a seat on the box and whipped out a smoking pipe. “And that Vacour too…” A brief look of concentration passed across the elves face and soon the contents of the pipe were lit and smoke plumed and vanished in the forest air.
“Talking to me about my backbone,” she puffed, another circle of smoke rose from her pipe before becoming lost between the giant oaks that surrounded them. “And him the most cowardly Elf in the realm. Probably long gone. Away across the forest, just in case the bandit shows up.” Lydia went silent for a while as she puffed away on her pipe, hardly looking up to check her surroundings. The forest became silent too, the only sound the odd squawking bird or a rustle of leaves behind him. Sam’s legs started to ache and protest his crouching but he ignored them as best he could. Focusing on his breathing, Sam realised he only needed to breathe once or twice a minute, the rest of the time given over to thought. Looking around, Sam took in his surroundings. Behind him lay the path out of the forest. He’d make it out of here with the box if no one close by followed him. Above, a red squirrel danced across the branches, catching both Sam’s and Lydia’s attention for a moment. Then, as quickly as he blinked, the squirrel dropped to the ground, an arrow through his eye.
“Aren’t you a lovely little fellow?” whooped Lydia, snatching the bloody animal off the ground and shoving it into some hidden inside pocket. “You’ll make a great starter tonight!” He’d have to think of something smart to make it out of here with his life as well as the gold. Stroking his chin, he thought back to the first time he had used his powers to ambush the elves.
It had been snowing, the forest was covered in a layer of cold, white. Snow-covered everything, from the branches to the caches. Thankfully, Sam had been watching them a couple of days before the snow arrived and having overheard two elves arguing, had figured out the location of a cache. Finding himself, half-buried in the snow, Sam soon realised just how much control he had over his magic. The Elf guarding the box of treasure had just thought that a storm had appeared from the depth of the forest. A snowstorm so harsh and centred on him, the only thing he could do was huddle up and wait till it was over. By that time, Sam had been able to sneak up beside him, and slowly lift as much gold as he could from the box. Closing the lid back down, it must have been weeks before they realised he had hit them. If they realised it at all.
Lydia’s beautiful and hypnotic whistling brought Sam back to the present. *No snow though*. Shifting slightly, from one foot to the next, the leaves beneath him crunched once more and Lydia’s eyes darted in his direction. Slowly, she rose to her feet, the bow appearing in her hand, an arrow already locked into place. Her footsteps never made a sound and if he couldn’t see the elf, Sam wouldn’t even know she was moving around. Drawing her bow, the arrow pointed right at the bush where Sam hid. *It was now or never.* Putting his hands to the ground and closing his eyes, Sam thought about fire, heat and warmth spreading out in front of him. Opening his eyes, he was delighted to see the leaves all around him had burst into flame, smoking bellowing, thick and black.
“What the?” Lydia cried out, taking a step back, pointing the arrow all around her now. Focusing on the smoke, Sam tried to keep it from drifting upwards, hoping to use it as a screen. Then, through the bush, an arrow zipped by, cutting Sam slightly in the back. Letting out a quick gasp, Sam forced his mouth closed, his teeth near snapping in half.
“I saw you, bandit!” Lydia called out. “The next one will be through your heart. Now step out and surrender yourself.” For a second, Sam was overcome with panic. *I’m dead. They’ll string me up. No! I’m better than this!* With all the magic he could muster, Sam, brought as much flame and smoke between him and the elf as he could, forcing her backwards. The fire rose, burning the bush in the process. The smoke thickened, the grey and black, swirling and around. Then, as it all slowly started to drift away, Lydia found herself standing all alone. Around her, the fire had consumed all the life it could. The tree’s, the leaves, the bushes.
“Bloody bandit,” she smirked. “Nothing compared to an elf and her bow.” Taking her seat once more, she never realised that the lid of the box was left slightly ajar or that it was lighter than before. | 2021-12-04T12:00:10 | 2021-12-04T11:44:23 | 449 | 23 |
[WP] An exorcist arrives at your door, and says "I'm here to remove the demon." Confused, you say you didn't call for an exorcist, then suddenly a demonic voice says "I did." | I turn, confusion and just a bit of fear on my face. I hadn't thought it possible but, sure enough, behind me was a creature with blood red skin and horns. Standing a few feet above even me, its horns dragged against the ceiling. Its slit, jet black eyes seemed to bore into me as it all but snarled at me to move out of the way.
I, of course, refused.
"And who told you that you could call this man?" I asked, indignant. My hands holstered on my hips as I glared back. The demon, whose muscles were bulging even now in preparation for combat, snarled once more.
"**Fool**," it said. Its voice sent tremors through my very soul. "**Who are you to keep me captive**?"
"Your husband," I said, a bland stare on my face. Indignation of my own rose in me, but I fought it down with a supreme kind of control. "We were wed in unholy matrimony from the day you accepted the summoning two years ago." I gestured wildly at the man, the exorcist, at my door. "And calling *this* man in isn't enough to get you out of it."
The demon growled, and fire came searing from his nostrils, but he did not move to strike me. That would be against the contract that he signed for my life. A contract that he was now trying to get out of.
"**I am Balreth, Slayer of Kin! You would do well to**\--"
"You are Mr. Readna, my husband, and you are currently throwing a hissy fit because I asked you to take out the damn garbage!" I rubbed at my head. "It isn't even a hard job. Why must we argue every time I ask you to do something?"
"**I've wanted a divorce for years**," he said, somewhat petulantly. I frowned.
"Divorces work for holy matrimony. You can see why such a thing would not work for you." I eyed the pentagram on his chest. "And besides, even though I treated it as such, this is technically not an even relationship. Until I die, I *own* you, and you cannot escape this partnership."
I turned to the exorcist. He winced under my withering glare, but otherwise did not move.
"Even if you call in this... who even are you anyway?"
"Oh, I'm glad you asked!" he chirped. "My name is Michael and I'm here to get rid of the--"
"Yeah," I muttered. "I don't really care. Sorry, Mike, but we don't actually need your services. You can go back to your... Mom's garage? Wherever it is that you came from. Sorry for calling you all the way out here."
Michael winced, but didn't continue. Balreth sighed, and his monstrous nostrils flexed.
"**You see?**" he said. "**He never listens**."
"You are a *demon*," I roared. "Stop acting like a housewife!"
"Maybe he isn't the only demon in this household," Michael said. I turned to him and his dorky glasses. "Sometimes our greatest demons are within ourselves."
"No, my greatest demon is the *actual, real, living demon* that's standing in my doorway." I cursed. "And why are you even still here??"
"Oh!" the man chirped again. "I'm so glad you asked!"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. I took it from him, albeit warily, and read it. My eyes widened as I did so.
"My side job is exorcist, but my main job is psychiatrist. While I would have loved to excommunicate Mr. Balreth from your home, it seemed like I can help you in another area."
I stared at him for a few seconds more, his wide grin somewhat unnerving me. Eventually I relented, however, and stepped aside. The man walked in with an eager step, before making his way to my living room.
I took another look at the bottom of the card, before sighing.
\------------------------------------------------------------------
*Michael Judicator*
*Husband, Exorcist, Marriage Counselor.*
\------------------------------------------------------------------ | "Get me out of this rainbow shitting unicorn now!" Screeched the demon.
I didn't even know the demon was there. I've felt a little irritated lately but just figured 2020 was getting to me.
Is it weird that I feel bad my demon doesn't like me? All my life I've wanted to be a badass but all anybody ever says about me is that I'm "nice."
I don't think I'm repressed or fake. I'm not trying to be like this. I just seem to feel other people's feelings and I just can't bring myself to hate anybody. I think most people who are mean are really just trying to feel more powerful because they are hurt and afraid. I don't like it when people are mean but I don't hate them. I have the curse of empathy and that demon knows it. And hates it.
I feel like that stupid girl in *Mean Girls* who wants to bake a cake and make everybody be happy... but I secretly wish I was Janis Ian.
It's really irritating. I'm actually really clever and think up excellent insults but when I open my mouth to say them I image the person I want to insult as a seven-year-olds being emotionally abused on the playground and I feel like the bully.
Apparently that makes me a rainbow-shitting unicorn.
The demon is complaining to the exorcist about me, "Do you know how she responds to political fights? She posts pictures of puppies and baby goats?"
As the exorcist prepares his various smokes and powders and started yell-chanting in Latin. He sounded mad. He hasn't let me say anything because apparently he thinks I'm possessed. He's been really rude about it too, yelling "Silence demon" at me when I tried to ask if he wanted a beer.
I'll bet this is the first time he's had more in common with the demon than the human he's exorcising.
Of the two, the demon seems a bit more approachable.
"How long have you been in there," I ask him.
"Three miserable months, since July 4. I obviously misjudged you. Mom hugs and water bottles! You have no idea how much that hurt me. I came in to help you get off your grieving ass and fight that cop.
"It doesn't make sense to me to oppose violence by being violent."
"Violence is my business. You make me sick, freaking Mrs. Rogers peacenik."
The exorcist finishes his ritual and I feel the demon vacating my body.
"Thanks for the Mr. Rogers idea," I wave. I'm getting a red cardigan and slip on tennis shoes. If I can't help being nice, I'm gonna be badass nice.
I'm pretty sure my parting shot hurt him a lot. Sorry not sorry. Well, kinda sorry. | 2020-09-28T19:01:09 | 2020-09-28T18:29:46 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | "So, let me get this straight."
The module that we had built into our helmets ages ago crackled as it turned the interviewer's garbled, bubbling noise into something that we could properly understand. I had heard hundreds if not thousands of languages spoken to me in my lifetime, but for the first time, the voice that I heard seemed almost infinitely different than what I heard. Honestly, it scared me.
"According to what you've told us, humans grew and evolved, flourished, even!.. Without a caretaker race to guide them? To nurture? To alter DNA and other small nuances to make them the race they are today?"
The creatures six tentacles grasped at different microphones and lights, and the 'cameras', if you could even call them that, were pointed at me in a blinding purple light. An odd color, to be sure.
"To our knowledge, from our written history and what we've managed to track, er.." The words flowed through my mind at a million miles an hour. To be gifted with the honor of revealing we didn't have a caretaker race after however long we were known to extra-species.. Perhaps it was a bit overwhelming. "No, we've never had a caretaker species."
"How," the Octopus-like creature started before the words even finished translating, "Did you survive upon your planet? Upon-" He looked off to the side, and a large sign with text that you vaguely recognized to be 'Earth' in an odd language slid down to show him, "Upon Earth? All of us were creatures that were hunted, yet due to overwhelming odds and the guidance from our Caretakers, were gifted the abilities required to attain, well.." He motioned around his tentacles, "This."
Instinctively, I grit my teeth, and shook my head just slightly as I thought over the answer. "We were hunters, as well as prey, for a while, or, uh.." I glanced around, those who were allowed into the studio seeming shocked and a few perhaps disgusted, "So we think! I'm not sure on the details, because, uh.. I'm a spaceship engineer, not, uh.." I coughed into my hand, "Next question?"
"You say you were a predator species? Even as such, given Earth's history of violence, surely you must have had a Caretaker race come in at some point, to offer guidance, to stop the bloodshed?"
This was going to take a while. | "Well, billions of years ago we all evolved from bacteria, or something. I don't know. High school was a long time ago."
"High school..? Is that where your Caretakers raised you?"
"No, well, we just call them 'teachers' here. And they just taught us the usual stuff - you know, science, biology, geography, that sort of thing."
"I *see*. So you're saying you never had any Caretakers at all? That you just gained self-awareness spontaneously? That you evolved from *monkeys?*"
The human thought for a bit. "Essentially, yes."
The alien sighed in exasperation, then turned and climbed back into the spacecraft. His copilot turned towards him.
"What did the humans have to say?"
He glared at him.
"Just start the damn engines, will you?"
****
The alien watched as Earth slowly faded out of sight. He was thoroughly annoyed.
He sent a short, terse message to his Caretaker, who had sent him on this mission:
*I really don't have time for practical jokes.*
| 2016-07-28T13:48:08 | 2016-07-28T13:25:18 | 91 | 49 |
[WP] Instead of dreaming, all humans enter a VRChat-like virtual world. One day while in this world, you receive a private message from your best friend's account; the same friend who died three years ago. It reads: "I found out what they're doing. Do NOT go back to sleep." | "I found out what they're doing. Do NOT go back to sleep"
I re-read the message, must've been some sort of troll, Alex has been dead for three years, I saw him get hit by that train. I stopped staring at the message, I decided to investigate what this is all about. I knew I had to seek BL1S3, he's the most notorious hacker of the oasis.
\*\*\*
After knocking on his door, I didn't hesitate to open it. Once inside, I saw a messy room, notes and documents were sprawled on the floor, I heard a series of mumbled whispers coming from the back room.
"What is this?"
I unsheathed my sword, and hesitantly walked towards the back room, and sure enough, there he was. Bl1s3, sitting behind the newest computer model, typing away and sweating profusely. "Blaze!!" I shouted.
"Aaah, I've been expecting you" He responded.
"Blaze, remember Alex?"
"Indeed I do, quite vividly to be frank"
"Yeah, I got a message from him earlier today"
"Wait, what? How is that possible?"
"Same question, here take a look"
He took my phone, connected it into his computer and started typing.
"There's nothing unusual about the IP, but I can track the sender down if you want."
He wrote down an address onto a piece of paper, and handed it to me.
"This is his location" He said. "But be careful, take some backup, this might be a very serious hacker trying to lure you into his trap. Weird things have been happening on the Oasis recently so I wouldn't be surprised."
I exited his home, and hailed a taxi.
\*\*\*
Slowly approaching the location written on the paper, I hesitantly approached the building in front of me. I took out my handgun and shot down the door. "Alex?" I yelled.
"Nice to finally see you here" He answered, walking out from behind the corner he was standing in. "Didn't think you'd believe that I'm not dead."
"But.... but.... I saw you get hit by that train, In REAL LIFE."
"You see, but you do not observe dear friend, I never died, the distraction was always part of the plan."
"What plan? And why did you wait three years to tell me?"
"I'll explain everything on the way"
Just as he finished talking, a volley of bullets was fired into our direction. He grabbed me by the collar and pulled me onto his motorcycle.
"Hold on!!!" He yelled. As he pushed the accelerator, I got a glimpse of our chasers. I immediately recognized them as not being human, they were some sort of bird people. They weren't using transportation, no, they were FLYING. They were flying above the building, they shot another volley of bullets at us.
\*\*\*
After he drove into his garage, he took of his helmet and mentioned for me to come inside. Once inside, I noticed a table of the world's best hackers and agents, some were extremely prominent. Most were considered dead, or missing.
"Who are you people, and why are you all here?" I asked.
"We are the Terces society, we have protected this world from unseen dangers for the past three years, and now our most sinister task is upon us, we have to take down the oasis. It is corrupting our brains and controlling the masses." Said the hooded man sitting on the main seat.
"But, but, you're all dead!"
"What you consider dead, we consider invisible. All of us had to theoretically die for our existence to be erased from the system, from there, we gathered in real life and used counterfeit headsets to access the oasis without having to sleep."
Another one of the hooded members stood up "We are faced with our toughest challenge yet, taking down the oasis, and we want your help."
If this blows up, I'll write a continuation.
&#x200B;
Visit r/memehack3r for more! | I put my headset on and laid down next to my dog. The room was cool and comforted me to sleep. My VR world is usually relaxed. I make enough money during the day so I can afford to relax in the VR World. I’m lucky in that sense. Most people work all day, plug in there headset and work all day. They go to real jobs and virtual jobs until work becomes their life. I walked over to my living room window. Outside the sun was setting over digital mountains and the view was incredible. I used to watch this same view with Cynthia every night before she got sick. Even when she was in the hospital I brought a photo of it to her hospital room to brighten her day and as a way for her to remember my love for her. This sunset means a lot to me. Cynthia means a lot to me and I miss her so much. The phone rang but I hardly heard it. I was missing Cynthia so much I could almost feel her standing next to. I felt connected to her. If I believed in ghosts I would think she was there with me, looking out the window too. The phone stopped ringing and the live voicemail connected to speakerphone. “Mark? Hello, I need to speak to you. It’s urgent. I found the reason why. Please answer. If you’re listening just don’t go back to sleep. Promise me you won’t sleep. I know why it happened”. Cynthias voice rang out from the answering machine. I nearly dropped to my knees with disbelief. Instead, I scrambled to the phone and almost knocked it onto the ground trying pickup the receiver. “Hello Cynthia it’s me! Are you there? Hello?”. The line was empty. I dropped the phone to the ground. A pit welled up in my stomach as I began to question what I heard. Cynthia is dead and a phone call from her is impossible. But I heard it, it was right there. Her voice, and I felt her by the window. She said she knew why it happened and to not sleep. The phone rang again, vibrating on the ground. I picked it up and nearly shouted into it. “Cynthia?” “Um no, this is Harold Jensen your driver. You requested me earlier. I’m downstairs now whenever you’re ready”. “Oh, yeah, right, I’ll be right down. I set the phone down and took a deep breath. I looked at my watch. 10:11pm. I had almost nine hours before sunrise. That meant nine hours to figure out if what I heard was real. Thanks for reading! | 2020-03-26T00:49:00 | 2020-03-25T22:05:51 | 77 | 17 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | The species known as Humans came from a distant star, deep within the swirling vortex all other races had avoided. They brought with them many wondrous advancements including advanced healing never before seen within the known galaxy. Though they were diverse, they had no want for war and would help any in need without hesitation as they spread across the stars.
Exploration was the forefront of their minds and had never declared war on anyone. They even created safe havens throughout the galaxy. Freeports, they called them, where anyone was allowed to rest for a spell regardless of their background, profession or allegiance. A no fire zone so to speak. Many species across the galaxy enjoyed their friendly demeanor but also viewed them as mostly harmless. Mostly harmless that is, until the incident of Tau-423.
The Vikonican's were an empire devoted to warring among the stars. They mostly kept their battles between themselves as they fight for glory and power. Every so often though, a particularly good general will win and unit the Vikonicans to focus on other species. One fateful day, Emperor Bragisson united his people and led an attack that completely destroyed one of the freeports.
The Vikonican's then declared war against the humans and began raiding, and destroying, several more freeports over the course of a few months. Every species offered the humans help but they politely declined saying, as quoted, "We got this"
The Tau-423 incident was news that shook the entire galaxy. The humans sent a fleet to the satellite that General Bragisson was commanding from and, in a single day, ended the war.
The humans distracted the Vikonican's with their fleet while sending over a hundred cloaked bombers into the atmosphere. The cloaking alone took us all by surprise as that was technology many had struggled to create. Even so, the cloaking was mostly glossed over in the aftermath of the bombs.
The human's didn't just retaliate, they destroyed the very planet. The atmosphere was blasted away and anything on the plant that wasn't incinerated on impact withered away. For years after, any probe sent to the remains of the planet would malfunction within minutes. Only in recent years have probes exploring the barren surface could send back data. The very planet itself was radiated and dead to the core. Nothing of this magnitude had ever been seen across the galaxy.
The Humans, it seemed, were more powerful, and more terrifying, than anyone could have ever guessed. We can only hope that they continue to keep their friendly demeanor. | Drifting endlessly and peacefully through this void, I gazed upon the great blue sphere. Its skies swirling with white ink. The low rumbling of our ship had my brethren in a deep sleep.
A great white plain, frozen and still, is where we made our temporary home. A small elderly woman made her way out of that dark and sullen forest, inviting us to follow her.
The six of us were crammed into the tight dwelling in which she lived. The warmth of the stove shielded us from that blistering cold winter wind. This meal was just enough to keep us all from starving, that caring old woman...
News of our presence was spreading. A large military force was to be expected at any moment, but this frozen plain was empty. As I wait on the outskirts of our encampment, waiting, a sun had risen out of the ground.
These humans were peaceful due to their fear not of us, but because of their own power. | 2020-02-07T13:28:43 | 2020-02-07T12:50:43 | 151 | 41 |
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty." | I awoke, unconscious, remembering nothing of who I am. The room was empty lest two things. First, a door. I checked. Locked.
"Of course," I muttered to myself, "why WOULDN'T the door be locked."
I made my way over to the second object. A button. I studied it. Blood red. I debated in my head.
"Should I push it?" I thought. "I wonder what would happen."
I took a step back. I studied the rest of the room like a book. The floor was tiled and the walls were a dark gray. The lightbulb reflected against the floor. I felt around the walls, perhaps there was some sort of handle or contraption that could be activated. There was nothing.
I resorted to waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
I waited for what felt like an eternity.
"Come on!" I exclaimed. "Come out here and do something."
I was answered with silence. I figured. If anyone was coming out of that locked door, they would have already. Unless...
I stalked the red button. I stood just an inch out of my reach from the button. The button. What could it do. The button, the button, the button. It could be my demise or my freedom. I inched closer and closer to the button. I was just an inch away from the button, closer, closer. Any closer and I'd be pressing the button. I was about to and...
The door opened. A sense of relief and dread flooded through my body. A woman sharply entered the barren room. I stared at her. Guessing her age was impossible. She was so...inhuman. I didn't know if I could trust her or not.
"So what happens If I press this button?" I asked.
"Nothing." She replied.
I stared at her. She must have been joking.
I pressed the button.
She grinned, "It's when you let go that things get..." she paused, "nasty." Her lips turning upwards forming a twisted grin.
I stood in horror. I held onto the button as if my future depended on it, which it might.
My mind delved, immediately, into the different possible outcomes, solutions, of the situation;
Is anyone going to die?
A better question, HOW many are going to die?
An even better question, WHO is going to die?
Did I have a family before this, or was I alone?
Perhaps, the people who are going to die are innocent, or maybe they're guilty.
What if no one is going to die?
Maybe, they will get tortured.
How would they be tortured?
Will they be tortured by pain, or by threatening those they love?
Will they burn by flame?
Will they drown in water?
I started to tremble. The possibilities were overwhelming me. I was scared. What did she mean by nasty. Images of plague, disease and pestilence flooded my mind. The possibilities...are endless. My heart was reverberating in my chest. My hands were shaking.
My hand slipped.
My hand, it had slipped.
The possibilities flooded through me, nonstop. I was given no quarter, no relent, from the onslaught of possibility. I quivered, a heap on the ground, for a mere few moments.
Nothing happened.
I barely heard the mechanical arm come out of the ceiling. I stared at the machine. It was inhuman as they lady who was here previously. Where had she gone? I stood, fear paralyzing me. A syringe came forth from the mechanical mass. It paused...and then attacked. I wrestled the machine. My loss marked by the pin-prick in the back of my neck. My limbs conceded to the drug. My senses were becoming dull. My body struggled staying up. My attention switched from fending off the arm to keeping my body upright. I collapsed. My vision waning as the life drained out of me. I blacked out. Darkness consumed me.
I awoke, unconscious, remembering nothing of who I am. The room was empty lest a door...
...and a button.
| The screen turned on as Glen stepped into the final room. "Congratulations," the robot droned in her robotic voice. "You have reached the final room." She paused for a moment. He looked around the room. It was blank, with white walls matching his clothing in their plainness. A red button sat on the wall. "Please press the red button on this wall."
Glen looked at it, and walked over. "So what happens if I press this button?"
"Nothing," she replied. Of course, she was lying, but there was nothing else he could do. He pressed the button, smirking.
The sound of machinery filled the room for a moment, and he felt the room jolt. The door quickly disappeared from view, the floor rising above it. He froze. "What did you do?"
The robot grinned, something she had never done before, and he felt chills drill through his spine. "It's when you let go that things start happening. Good luck."
The pace of the room was accelerating. By now, he reckoned, he must be at least twenty feet in the air. A fall from this height would easily break his legs, if not worse. He needed to release the button.
But the room didn't change. Though he could feel the vibration of the elevator, and his feet were heavier than usual, the room stayed the same. And he was afraid to let go.
He took a deep breath. He had to accept his fate. "On the count of three," he whispered to himself. "I'll let go when I count to three." He closed his eyes.
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
He released.
The vibration stopped, the noise stopped, and a horrible feeling of weightlessness overtook him. He started floating, and reached for the button. But he brushed against the wall, and his fingertips pushed him slowly towards the middle of the room.
He swore, and looked back. By now, he had floated to the ceiling, and he reached his legs back and placed them against the wall. His shoes gripped against the wall, he slowly bent, and then he sprung from the ceiling straight for the red button.
A horrible squealing sound seemed to come from everywhere, and he was slammed to the ground. Somehow, he managed to hold on, and the squealing turned into a grinding as the room shook, and slowed. "Come on," he managed through gritted teeth. "Come on," he whispered. "This can't be it. This can't be it. This can't -"
With a full thud, the room jolted to a stop. He smelled smoke. Another door on the opposite side of the room opened.
He had made it. He could finally get out of this blasted place.
He flopped to the floor and started laughing. | 2017-01-05T12:18:47 | 2017-01-05T11:28:44 | 90 | 10 |
[WP] All sorcerers are born with an unique set of abilities that aid them in mid to long range combat, ranging from a mere 20 meters to an insane 200 meters in effect. Your family, skilled and renowned, snobbish long range fighters never expected you to be this powerful - with a total 5 meter range.
[deleted] | My family has a long lineage of sorcery. It has not only made us powerful through our studies of the arcane, but also valuable soldiers, guards, and even advisors of nobles and kings.
In their studies, they always believed that range was the key to success. Keep your enemy at a distance and use extremely powerful spells and even most other sorcerers cant survive more than a few seconds.
But because ive been born into this legacy, I also know the closely guarded secrets. The known weaknesses. And they learned how to counter those weaknesses.
I never liked my family. Too haughty. Too narcissistic. Too... stupid. All they know is magic. They know nearly nothing of how the regular people think. How to incite their passions for their loyalty. They lead their soldiers and people through fear. Over the centuries there have been dozens of assassinations by their own people because of how hated they were. Did they learn compassion from these examples? No, of course not. They only learned the limits in their use of fear. But its still fear. I hate it.
I grew up the black sheep. It wasnt my own fault though! My magic would fade the longer range i used. But if i tried to call down lightning directly in front of me, i could accurately direct it into a chain towards my enemies, as long as they were close, and circumvent my own people. I could shoot flames so hot that it would go straight through anybody and anything.
But if tried to do the same thing at 200 meters? A kilometer? Psh. I could warm someone up. I can give them a static shock. But I can't hurt them.
Everyone else in my family was unaffected by range, close or not. There was no difference in their power. But it was average. There wasn't any real noticeable variance in their power. That lightning? Close or far it could only hit one person. Nobody else. The flames? It had to deflect off of armor before it got hot enough to melt it away and kill whoever was inside. It was the same with everything. Simply average. It was their knowledge that made them dangerous. Instead of fire at full plate, hit them with lightning. Or shoot lances at them. If there is an army then start a fire with a tossed fireball, then fan the flames into a wild fire that surrounded and then consumed the army. It was brilliant, and studied, and kept as secret as possible.
I was treated as a failure though. I couldnt do almost any of those things. My inability to cast at range was considered a horrible mutation to the family line. Useless. Discarded. Until my first few battles.
A cousin some two or three times removed worked with a kingdom that rivaled my own. Some petty insult or another would result in the deaths of thousands. It happened all the time, and the family was too large to always be on the same side. I had to learn how to get in close and avoid the long range spells everyone else used. I had to learn how to counter, their counters, to the weaknesses of long range. It was complicated, but i did it.
He started predictably. A mass charge by his army. I allowed mine to engage them. Not much use getting involved. I could be killed just as easily by a sword as a lightning bolt. I had to go around it all. I started moving. Left my banner behind. Lightning began striking down in that area and Fireballs and artillery arched over and into my armies. Soon, tendrils of power began spreading through the ground. Looking for traces of my magic.
He knew it was a close range wizard now. Nothing had been sent at him. He needed to find me to send his attacks in the right direction. The first counter to his weaknesses of lack of vision. I simply made myself small. And got off the ground. A vulture was always perfect. I rose up and joined the hundreds circling above. Waiting for the feast to begin. Slowly and casually I slid over above him.
He noticed though.
Lightning began streaking UP! This guy's stronger than most. He was pulling energy from below and directing it up. It made for more accurate shots. I dodged the best i could while pulling shields up to begin blocking. Fireballs and scattered pebbles thrown at incredible speeds. The concussive blasts designed to scatter the shields. The pebbles to rip through the soft bodies of the vultures. I needed a distraction till i was directly overhead. I slapped a shield onto a nearby passing vulture and then "ran" as he focused on the shielded vulture, thinking it was me.
Iron. I changed a few birds nearby to iron and pulled them closer. Once they were close enough I psychically accelerated them down towards him blasting huge chunks out of his own shield. Now he had something new to worry about. The stones rocketed down but by the time they hit, they had decelerated to the point of only falling at what gravity could pull. Im still 200m away. Too far for me to be affective yet. I need to get a lot closer.
He seemed to focus on rebuilding his shield and then he started streaking bolts of acid at the projectiles and me. Eating through them and creating pock marks to slow them down further. Fire balls get thrown up to try and smash them apart. This guy loves the classics. It makes him more predictable so I switched tactics a bit.
I changed more vultures and myself into falcons and spread them out to streak towards him together. I was able to maintain control of them because I dropped with them. Keeping them close. Then, once I caught up to some of the destroyed chunks of metal I changed myself into one and let myself simply drop. The debris was falling around him and I would be one of them. Unnoticed, insignificant. Already dealt with.
50 meters. I'm almost there. All of my distractions are gone. Debris and shrapnel from the vultures are all hitting the ground. If he noticed my change then I'm screwed. I don't have time to change into anything else so instead I hardened myself into steel. I should be able to fall faster and survive a couple blasts of anything but a bubble of time. He didnt seem to be a sorcerer who thinks that far outside the box though. That being said, I couldn't trust luck now. Its too dangerous. I pre-empted his possible attack and shifting back to human and simply teleported to the ground. Its sloppy with two flashes of light, because of the distance, but it was possible and it had the added benefit of stoping my momentum completely.
I landed about 10m away from him. Its as close as i could get. He spun around, raised his fist to strike me with lightning but was too slow. I recognized the motion and quickly shifted the ground. Rods of metal sprung up and twisted above me. It directed the electricity around me harmlessly and back into the ground. My turn now. I pushed a psychic assault into his mind. He tried to resist but at this range it was too easy to shatter his defenses.
It was so strong that all the neurons in his brain started working in reverse. That was all i needed. I won.
His brain started pushing its own signals from his nerves away and pulled other neurons back. Arteries that surround the brain twisted and broke, hemorrhaging blood. His skull began to crack as his jaw became forced shut in a silent scream of pure agony. By the time it was done, his body laid contorted into an impossible shape. Joints twisted sideways. His neck snapped backwards till the top of his head pushed into his bac and broke it.
His muscles in his legs and arms cramped so hard they ripped the skin outwards. His head began to bloat into an unrecognizable mass of skin from all the internal bleeding.
I left him there. A testament to my power. I would not be the failure my family thought I was. I would demonstrate this as many times as I needed to. I will break this legacy as completely as I broke my cousin.
-------
Thanks for the word prompt. That was fun. | Well... I’m here, the Magicity Colosseum. I bask in the absolute magnitude of the stone columns holding up this arena. I avoid the main entrance, which is crowded with people, wearing a wide assortment of robes, tunics, or even rags. Everyone comes to the games, and I am here to not just watch, but to participate.
I continue on the winding path around the stadium, standing out from the crowd, since I’m wearing heavy armor. Consequently, people look at me like I’m an alien. Anyway, I head on over to a large marble gate, a guard asks for my name.
I respond, “Octavius June Katool.”
I’m verified and let into a private waiting room, I familiarize myself with my room. It’s a small room with a bed, and a view that faces the colosseum. The ring where the fighters is magnificently large, larger then almost anything I’ve seen in my life. It’s made out of marble for some reason, stupid nobles wasting money, it’s going to get destroyed anyway.
I rest on my bed an hour, maybe two, I see other participants start to prepare in the ring. Most are here because of their noble blood, I had to win the Tournament to get here, only two others came from the Tournament. I head down to the ring I grab my equipment, a long, thick, silver broadsword. Along with a large shield, which is roughly the height of my body. I do my pre-fight warm-ups, stretching out my body from head to toe.
I’m here, in the ring that I fought so hard to get here. I look around, so much empty space, but I spot the occasional participant. circular ring crowded with other people just trying their best. We’re surrounded by hordes of people, raised up at the edges of the ring. Fifty-seven today. The participants around me wait tensely, waiting for a horn to sound. A deep blast pierces our ears, chaos erupts.
The first bright red explosions sound, I glance and see two people knocked out, just because they’re nobles doesn’t mean they’re good at fighting. I swerve to my right, just avoiding a some spear-shaped wind. Straightening myself, I realize I’m next to a grey-robed woman, I’m surprised she didn’t keep her distance. I quickly swing my sword, it instantly hits her, taking her out, she’ll be sent to the healers soon. A chain scrapes my face, my cheek erupts in pain. My brief second of distraction, gives the chain user an opportunity to attack my legs. The chains wrap around my legs, leading to me almost losing my balance. However, I manage to stop myself from falling. I grab onto the cold chains, forcing them off me. I grab hold of them, and look toward their user, A man dressed in tatters.
I run toward them, yelling as I go. The man simply says,
“I need the money, and you will not stop me.”
He’s not from the tournament, he’s just another buffoon who want to line his pockets with even more more money. He appears poor to gain sympathy, he knows he can’t win. I block many of his attacks, chains from above, chains from below, all while blocking the loose attack from around me. Finally I’m able to reach him, tanking through his many chain-based attacks. I quickly swipe at him, he is unable to put up even a simple shield. They’re so pathetic up close, they cannot comprehend a melee fighter. I jam my shield on his throat, killing him, healers can’t save him. It’s what he deserves for trying to expand his fortunes, he pretended he was poor, pathetic. Used my shield to make sure no one suspects me of killing him on purpose, I’ll say it’s an accident.
This has been a cakewalk so far, I haven’t even had to use my ability. Ten people are left, two of which I recognize, my family, my parents. Each dressed in regal, embroidered, uniforms, which provide little armor.
I yell out to them, “thought I wouldn’t come this far huh?”
My mother answers, “get ready you Melee, you will be put down a peg, you will be shown where you truly belong.”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll put you where you belong, in the afterlife,” I reply.
“You know damn well you can’t kill here, my father responds.
After our brief exchange, we gear up to fight each other gear up to fight my parents.
They’re signature electric water attack rockets toward me. I block the stream of electrified water with my shield. They’re a full sprint away from me, I close the distance, running toward them at breakneck speed. Splitting small lightning strikes, mini-tsunamis, and many more attacks. As I continue to get closer, my parents start to panic, and throw out their greatest attack, a electricity-charged five person tall wave. I use my abilty right as the wave arrives. I split the middle of the wave, and the wave crashes behind me.
“I can split anything, including your waves,” I yell to them confidently.
I reach them, and just like all other sorcerers, they panic when someone reaches them. I block their last-ditch attacks, and split their bodies, to the shock and horror of the audience.
I stomp on both their heads, hearing the gasps of the audience. They’re calling me to stop, but I don’t give a crap. The prejudiced pieces of crap are dead. I don’t care at this point, the government can’t execute nobles of which, unfortunately I will have to reveal my wretched bloodline. I’ll take advantage of their stupid policy. I step on my parents throats, and hear a sickening squelch. It’s what they deserve.
I look around me, only to find the the crowd has broken out of their stands, and are in the arena. Crap, crap, crap, they’re closing in on me.
“Don’t touch me,” I yell to the crowd, panicked.
The crowd responds with chants, of “kill him.”
I feel something on my neck, burning me flesh, my vision goes. My stomach is trampled on, as my consciousness fades for the last time. I’m left with a single question, was this not a good course of action?
Been writing some more short and light-hearted stuff recently, so wanted to write a longer and somewhat darker story as a change of pace.
r/CascadeCorner | 2020-11-26T16:07:08 | 2020-11-26T13:33:24 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ" | You know these crazy techie geeks, right? Those with the fastest computer in the neighborhood but you could never play games with them because it runs linux? Those with an android phone with sexy1337H4x0r custom ROM and a smartwatch paired with it? They claim it even can pick up girls for them, but yet you never see any girls around them. That's my best buddy. He lives next door, I hope that explains why I ever talk to him.
He just bursted through my door and told me what heppened an hour ago. He was browsing the part of internet that normal people don't even know about. You enter it with some browser that uses onions. Or something like that, I didn't care. Then he found this website.
"Meet the famous" it said.
And there was a bunch of names. He was sure it is a scam, but his computer is of course malware-resistant so he clicked a random link to see what will happen, only to find himself on a street crowded with strangely dressed people. They all had too large colorful clothes and were dirty even by my friend's standard.
"This must be some kind of convention", he thought.
"A secret one", he added. "Because I know about all the public ones". He was clearly proud of himself for that reason.
For the record, a convention is an event where the geeks go to meet other geeks and show off with your latest purchases. He decided he can try googling what is it. Asking a pedestrian would be too hard. I have always wondered if these people talk when they meet each other.
Back to the story, he took out his phone and looked for wifi. There are always tons of free wifi hotspots on conventions. Strangely, there was only one, called "icniV aD".
My heart started racing. I love Leonardo's work and was very excited I could know someone who actually met him. I had so many questions.
"And what next? Tell me what happened next!" I yelled.
"I got back home. I wasn't going to talk with an idiot who protects their wifi with WEP." | Robert Langdon looked up from his One Plus smartphone in confusion and surveyed the room he found himself in. He felt a wiered sense of Deja Vu, like he knew the place, like he had been here before.
Or maybe it was that he would be here again.
Things felt weirdly familiar, yet at the same time strangely different...
'At the same time...' he thought to himself, as a wry smile crossed his face. Time, such an abstract concept. Forever flowing, unrelentingly, towards the future. Or so he had thought.... | 2016-11-15T06:12:41 | 2016-11-15T04:44:22 | 239 | 13 |
[WP]The pill that decreases aging has been released, but you decided not to take it. It was a good call, because a few decades later, side effects started to emerge. | "Don't grow old," I say, bending over and feeling the crick in my back. My vision's going and my knees have been killing me. "It's not worth it."
They laugh, Edmund, Ray, and Jenna laugh, or at least I think they do. They're immortal now, all cell division ceased, all cells basically merged into one. They don't age, they won't die, probably. They're like amoebas, like jellyfish. On one hand, it's horrifying, but on the other hand, they're incredibly easy to take care of. I don't even need to feed them, they just ooze along the floor translucently.
Sometimes I think maybe I should have taken the pill. They seem happy, I guess, insofar amoebas can be happy. Anyway, what's the point of being one of the last human on earth? It's a lousy consolation prize. But it's too late now. I've already aged far too much for it to be worth it. I lie back on my chair. Jenna or Edmund or Ray slithers up and envelops my hand.
"Do you regret it?" I ask them. "It'd be fucking awful if you regretted it. Imagine a whole world living with regret, being unable to change, being unable to grow past it. Just a - just a protoplasmic blob of regret." I touch my own wrinkled face. "There's regret, sure," I say, tracing a line. "And there's joy, and there's sorrow, and there's love and there's pain and there's loneliness and there's anticipation. And there's - there's the sense that it was worth it, maybe."
Edmund or Ray or Jenna burbles. They're happy, I decide. I've been projecting. They're happy and placid and forever, ever young. I will die and rot and go back into the ground, and they will rule over the Earth. I watch the light go through them and become prismatic. And if I had to grow old, out of pure sheer stubbornness, if I had to grow old and die, well, at least I got to see this come to pass. I lie back and sit, and Edmund and Ray and Jenna all sit with me. | It's been about twenty years since forevermore was released to the general public. Once people thought they would live forever they started to care about the planet. Within the first fifteen things were relatively smooth.We had reduced carbon emmisions and started reforestation.You could almost call it a utopian society. I had received endless ridicule for abstaining for "eternal life". Most calling me old fashion, or a "natural" but it sounded to good to be true, and boy howdy I was right.
First birthrates started to drop slightly, then they took a noes dive. You see if people stop dieing and keep giving birth we would become overpopulated. So when it was discovered forevermore sterilized people it wasn't a problem. Untill the hunger happened.
Not from a food shortage or a change of metabolism. It was a gluttony for fleash.
| 2016-10-09T08:40:00 | 2016-10-09T06:23:32 | 80 | 14 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | I sigh, and look around. At all the supermen, and wonderwomen. I remember when I used to watch these in awe, longing for the day I would get to participate in **THE POWER GAMES**!!! A sort of super obstacle course that every 16 year old gets to participate in, and at the end, you get to pick a super power mod, a small beaker filled with a fluid that will change your life (and genetics) forever. But, there are only a limited number of powers, so you only get to pick from the powers left when you finish the Obstacle course, so the better you do, the more and better powers you have to pick from.
Like I said, once, I used to dream about getting a cool power, and sometimes, in my deepest dreams, I thought about getting the *Super mod*, a mod that gives you a bunch of powers. Those are always picked by the first winner.
"Hey, *normy*. I can't believe you showed up today, that took some guts. But guts will only get you so far." I feel a clap on my back that's sure to leave a welt and serious bruising, as Tristan walks past. I seethe.
Like I keep say, I *used* to dream about all this, but then I learned the truth. The truth is, only the rich, or well-connected get the real super powers, because they can either afford physical mods, mods that make you super humanly fast and strong, and sharpen your senses and reaction time to a super point, or are gifted said mods.
But people like me, whose family couldn't afford them, or didn't know the right people, well, we're just forgotten about. People like my dad, who made the best time his family ever had, and he only got moderate telekinesis. My mom didn't even take the test because she thought there was no point.
But I have a plan. I figured it out in school, because of "Power Outlook class," which is pretty much just a class for the rich and powerful to stroke their egos, and for the poor to get a tantalizing taste of something they'll never get. We're given a list of powers that will be available after we finish the course, and we're able to take "Temp mods" to test out powers that we might want. Of course, everyone tested out the super mod, and it was amazing, to not feel weak, to be able to see, hear, and decipher everything going on around you. But, I noticed a power that almost no one takes, even the last placers. Transmutation.
It makes sense, the reasons one would take a power like that, turning things that aren't, say, gold into gold to get rich, and things like that are illegal, so it becomes useless. So I tried it out. It was about as lack luster as you'd think, without being able to use it to get rich. But then, I thought of something. I took out my phone, and took out a rock, and I focused. I felt the phone in it's entirety, mostly plastic, and I focused. I focused on the metal within, and I turned a rock into copper. Neat.
So next class, while the coach was teaching the soon-to-be heroes, I grabbed Squeakers, our biology teachers pet rat, and I focused on him. It was a mess. The rat was fine, but trying to read organic material was a mess, it's so interlinked. But, I kept at it. And eventually, I was able to read the rat, from enzymes to cells, I could turn things into the base components of a living rat. And I learned, the better I could read something, the less I actually needed it to transmute something into a component of it. I was set.
So here I am. I just finished the course, second to last. And I choose the transmutation power. It's a real shocker to the audience, it's so rare for someone to pick Transmutation. Some people express their pity, "oh, such a poor boy, he chose a throw away power." Most laugh though. I keep a stoic *I'm not gonna let them see me cry* face, but on the inside, I'm giddy with anticipation.
As the final week approached before we were to take the course, and pick a power, with the temp transmutation mod on, I went around and sucked up to all the potential winners of the best powers, making sure I shook a hand, or got a high five multiple times, or even a "playful" shove. And I read them. As I enter the finish area after drinking my mod, I grab a bottle of water, and begin shaking hands with the top winners. I make sure to drink my water.
After a sappy speech, and some bowing, we all go home, and I head out for a secluded area in the forest.
Super mod. Shape shifting mod. hyper intelligence mod. Invisibility mod. Pyrokinesis mod. Superior Telekinesis mod. Aquakinesis mod. And most importantly, Transmutation mod.
I sit, hovering just below the tree line, grinning. I have all the best mods. Everyone else had to pick one, but because I looked into an over-looked mod, I was able to get them all.
When I picked transmutation, most people laughed, including my classmates who got the best mods. Well, whose laughing now? | From a utilitarian point of view I was fairly impressive if I may say so myself. Our country, our closed country, under a threat from the entire world, protected only by the great revered leader, was filled with people with rather useful yet banal superpowers. Flight, extreme strength or endurance, usually just one at a time, even just two of them together was a rare occasion. Which brings me to myself, the laughingstock of the class who unfortunately was born with the capability of doing anything, so long as it is included in a Dethklok song. Odd and grotesque, and with the education system only teaching the very basics of the most simple powers, you don't exactly find your place.
I'm not going to tell you how life was a nightmare. It wasn't. I was a bit of a laughing stock, but I wasn't abused or even close to that. If anything it was the rather routine and boring life here that had me suffering. There weren't too many options here if you actually wanted to do something with yourself that wasn't being a factory worker, a cop a solider, or a criminal.
And so I decided to do the unthinkable, and leave for another country. where I am now it's called migration. Back home, however, merely visiting another country is frowned upon and migrating is considered defection unless under orders from the government or the military. Evil doesn't begin to describe what I am considered to be by my own family. Everyone who ever cared about me or I cared about sees me as an inconceivably evil demon, to be killed on sight. But as much as that stings, becoming a part of the outside world was one big truckload of food for thought.
It's not just the plethora of opportunities, or the extremely varied collection of abilities spread everywhere. Those are overwhelming at first, but are fairly trivial matters which you get used to. I very quickly started finding those things much more enjoyable than difficult. What really struck me hard, though, was getting a view on my country from the outside. All the things that I didn't know happened behind the scenes were fairly common knowledge here. I learned the reason for the variability of abilities in the outside world. My country, which I can barely consider as mine, was extremely afraid of people with unique powers, extremely afraid of people stepping out of line, being unique. Those who acted odd, or had odd powers or characteristics were systematically vaporized, unless they were extremely quiet, and damn near invisible, in order to maintain an image of solidarity and unity, in order to maintain the sovereignty of an impotent leader who sees himself above the country.
What I did next was risky. Mostly for my old country. Looking back I'd say I was being arrogant, putting my ideals before my the will, and even well being of my country man. I broadcasted myself to every single screen in the country, with, thunderhorse providing the electrical signal, Delivering a message that couldn't be unheared. All I was doing is giving my points of view, providing some input, backed by cold hard evidence, to my country.
The leader was not as revered now as those of the past were and I was hoping for the people's solidarity and very banal and logical thought process to be able to create a change without instigating too much instability. This, of course, was a huge risk. Who knows what could happen if they even believe me. A violent revolution would be a great opportunity for other countries who want to get some influence to jump in and make things even worse, and that's terrible enough without even considering the costs the revolution itself would have.
None of those possibilities were close to what happened in the end. The leader has made use of his ability as soon as the reform started. I now realized why we truly weren't allowed to migrate. Not so that we don't hear the wrong things, but so we don't stay out of the leaders range for too long and disconnect from his ability: the hivemind.
I've turned from demon to Satan himself in thee eyes of my countrymen I made a huge mistake, which's repercussions only time will tell... | 2017-06-12T09:36:31 | 2017-06-12T07:45:36 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] "10 million slaves as tribute" the alien armada demanded. Less fortunate people were quickly rounded up, offered and taken. The aliens response: "We can only save that many and it was the fairest way to pick. The Scourge approaches, we are sorry." After that they hastily leave. | .01333%, 1 divided 7,500, that was the request just .001333% of the population to protect the planet from complete invasion and the obliteration of the human race. Compared to the slaughter of some of histories bloodier wars the number was actually quite low. Some in government probably were glad, a way to be rid of the undesirables in society.
Our invaders gave us 25 days to gather together the offering in designated locations far removed from society, it seemed the concept of 7 day weeks was an earth only concept. The first 5 days were full of riots and closed-door meetings our “leaders” debating but we all knew what they would do, what leaders have always done when faced with hard choices, protect themselves and those like them. The rules from the ships, we have still never seen the faces of those that demand so much of us, were simple equal male to female ratio, no one from our prisons, no one over the age of 35 and at least 1 million young. The solution was as expected “those without strong potential will be traded for the betterment of all” basically the poor would be sacrificed for the rich, again.
Martial law was already implemented throughout the world and many had excepted their fate when the unexpected happened. In small towns and big cities those that would have been safe who had the means and future to be protected from the sacrifice volunteered to take someone’s place. They volunteered for a life of servitude so that strangers with less than them would be saved, even some full families volunteered. These new hero’s asked for nothing they accepted there fate an left for a completely unknown future.
My friends and family volunteered, my girlfriend said it was an opportunity to live up to the morals we had march and protested for all these years. They were brave I wasn’t, I was so afraid that I sat silent when the final call for those to voluntarily board the train. I will never forget the look of pity and sadness in her eyes when I let someone else take my place. in that moment I was weak but in my mind I told myself I needed to stay if all the selfless people left who would be left to fight the good fight here. I knew it was a lie but it was a comforting lie do I believed it.
All said and done 95% of the 10 million slaves were volunteers, people in the darkest hour came together to protect strangers from suffering. That will always be the legacy of those brave volunteers the UN secretary general said, the best of humanity on a journey to the starts to represent us all. The fact that it had all been at gun point was carefully glossed over in the upbeat speeches.
5 days later when the message came that we were about to collide with a black hole I might have been the only person on the planet that was relieved. We might be doomed to die on this planet but the best of us are out there and they would continue and that is enough. My weakness might have condemned me but the best of us would survive and that I could accept. | It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. People signed up in droves for the chance to venture into space as part of the pioneering group to explore new worlds. The pay won’t be much and there will be many challenges ahead, but the spirit of adventure had won out in many people’s hearts. And for many people, the choice was to either continue living pay check to pay check, or try their luck on the frontier, guided by our new alien friends.
________
The campaign was a huge success. After witnessing the might of the alien armada, any escalation would mean extinction. Their only request is 10 million humans. To be frank, 10 million lost from the labour force would be a massive, massive hit to the global economy. This action will probably send the world spiralling into a recession. We might not be able to pull out of it this time, due to the recent trend in QE depleting reserve funds. We’re trying the best we can but we will be seeing massive down-sizing and a liquidity crisis in the near future.
_________
The humans are masters of manipulation. To convince millions of their own to work as slaves for an alien invader with little to no resistance, is a feat worthy of praise. It will be such a pity once they are over-run by the scourge, which we cannot defeat even with our weaponry. Once the slave population is on board, we will make the announcement so at least the reminder will be prepared for their demise. | 2020-01-16T20:55:11 | 2020-01-16T20:14:02 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | "Your world will burn until it's surface is but glass." That was the message that Gabriel was forced to deliver, the response to hundreds upon thousands of deaths, both human and alien.
The war never ended. There was constant fighting on the fringes of human controlled space, many learned to live underground, still more, learned that at least the alien capital ships brought death quickly.
It was long, bloody. The enemies demonized in the eyes of the public back at the core worlds, Until a surprise attack wiped out a chunk of the Jovian population near Pluto and Uranus. The remains of the hab-stations a horrific metal tomb for the thousands that resided in all six of them. The strike was intended as a message. "We can hit you anywhere" it said.
Gabriel was about to show them why you don't put humanity in such a cornered position.
"Is this some kind of joke? Do you mean to poke at us with those useless ballistic weapons if yours?" Came the snickering response from the vulpine on the other side of the view screen.
"Ensign... Signal all ships to decloak and begin operation exterminatus." Gabriel would shift ever so slightly. Exterminatus, and old earthian term. Came from a game that would be played some 40 thousand years ago. But the devastation that was about to follow would more then meet the meaning behind the term.
Several ships would decloak above the planet, each the size of a small cruiser. And from each, a fighter sized payload was released, rocketing towards the surface rather innocently. The vulpine on the other end of the comlink would laugh, as the reports would come in. But those mirthful eyes would soon shine bright with alarm as he raced over to what could be assumed was the sensor's position, looking over the data.
What they had thought were small fighters, were in fact, fighter sized nuclear bombs. And each of those bombs would explode in a major city, wiping out the population in mere seconds. The shock, and the horror felt by the crew on the other side was palpable. As quick sensor sweeps were done of various locations to return what can only be assumed as total destruction. But Gabriel wasn't done. Oh no, no. Feeding on the shock and horror, he'd gain some confidence. A measure of satisfaction that this time, this time they knew the humans were serious, and this war wasn't in the kiddie pool any longer.
"Fire the second salvo, aim for farmlands, and water supplies. The next targets will be minor population centers. If anything is left after that, let the radiation, and the coming nuclear winter finish them off. We're done here." Gabriel would command, turning back to head towards his ready room. "Oh, and Captain?"
The enemy would shift his attention back towards the screen, steadying himself on the nearest bulkhead as he tried to maintain some measure of composure, but in the end, looking quite pitiful. Barely able to keep himself up on jello knees, and tears streaming down his face he stood, broken, but still somewhat defiant. "Wha-" the fox would cough, his voice having cracked as he spoke "What is it that you want, demon?"
"Dont bother collecting the remains of your family. There wont be anything left, at least... Nothing that's discernible. Lieutenant, Come about and end communication." The screen would flicker and go dark, replacing itself with the emptiness of space against a burning world. "All ships that have released their payloads are to FTL out of the system and make for home with all speed. I must contact the admiralty on Korhal station. Today marks the beginning of the end of this war. | Sth'Slh stared out of the transparent port. Scales gleamed dully in the dim emergency lighting and his thin whiplike tongue tasted the stagnant air left by failed recyclers. The low, reassuring rumble of the ship was now gone, replaced by groans as bulkheads tortured beyond their tolerances continued to buckle under strain.
He remembered his broodmate Shh'Shl; her scent, her gleaming eyes, her long strong tail; capable of striking down even him. He huffed quietly to himself, mirth and fondness dilating his ecliptic pupils. Even now her scent had faded from his memory, long had he been away.
He remembered home. Towers of stone and earth surrounding vast pools of warm water. He could smell the rich sulfur in the air, and his second lids closed in sympathetic response. A thousand tongues thrilling in the morning air, welcoming the morning sun. Ah, home, how he longed to be there once more.
In the distance, bright stars lit up the eternal darkness of space; but he knew these imposters. Just 10 minutes ago one of them had reached the center of the fleet. Thinking the initial swarm were unguided explosives they had moved around them. The silent flash had blinded half his bridge crew through the shades. The ship next to his had shattered. Armored hull and protective bulkheads turned into deadly kinetic shrapnel, ripping through the heart of his ship. Power failure had been instant and safeguards meant to lock off sections open to space failed, venting precious air through gaping wounds.
He had ordered his crew to the pods; they had left scrambling and slithering as fast as their legs and bodies could carry them. A brood leader stayed with the ship after all. The ship was obviously crippled beyond repair; worse than anything this war had done. It sat dead in space, incapable of avoiding the bright lights.
He remembered his delight when they announced him worthy of leading the first brood against the humans. The filthy fleshy animals who had kept his from home for so many cycles. A short-lived species of primate, he found them disgusting, the various odors that they gave out sickened him till he saw stars.
Ah those lights were bright, and oh so fast. So very bright, and he was very far from home. | 2019-12-19T02:10:50 | 2019-12-19T01:49:38 | 205 | 100 |
[WP] At the age of 18, everyone picks an unlikely life event. They will be reborn at 18 every time they die until that event happens. After that, death is permanent.
Example - Winning a lottery jackpot. Statistically, they would die in 22 plane crashes in a row before winning the Mega Millions jackpot. | See, most people try to live forever, but that ends one of two ways: they don't or they wish they didn't. Rob Herman was a famous example of the first, Rob chose his Event to be “Winning the lottery and getting struck by lightning.” It was a great choice, the chance of getting struck on any given day was 1 in 245,000,000 and the chance of winning big lotteries is about the same. This way Rob could continue his passions of being outdoors and playing the lottery, just not both at the same time! But Robby got sloppy, and one day mixed the two at a state fair. With about 20 billion people on the earth miracles are bound to happen every once and a while.
The most infamous example of the second was Nick Walsh. Nick chose “Due to a quantum mechanical flux, a cat appears from nowhere.” Such wishes are rather common among those seeking true immortality. After Nick's fiancée left him, he lost his job, he was eternally imprisoned for a crime (eventually proved innocent, but not until it was too late,) and his mother died due to a freak game of poker. He then performed brain surgery on himself using a nail stuck through a plank. He's brain-dead in a hospital now with explicit instructions NOT to pull the plug, with the threat that he'll it again in the next life.
So when it came my Time I took a different approach. I didn't want immortality, I wanted the most out of life. I wanted an event that I could enjoy, that wouldn't bind or hinder me.
“The day that the good will never again outweigh the bad.”
In the past thousand years I've had good times and bad times, I've had great times and terrible times, I've been in more love and more pain than I could imagine. And through it all my Event has been there for me, an eternal promise, that I still have a good life ahead. | Preface: I'm drunk and trying to do this in as few words as possible.
I have died 1000 deaths. Beaten, stabbed, drawn-and quartered. But finally, it happened, on my 18th birthday.
"I love you" she whispered.
"I know" I reply as I kiss her for the last time and drift off to sleep, the heart monitor giving that goddamn buzz for the last time.
FIN. | 2014-11-11T21:52:28 | 2014-11-11T21:04:29 | 912 | 20 |
[WP] You have realized that your best friend is your son/daughter from the future who wants to hang out and get to know you since you die before he/she was born
Not sure if this has already been made but just thought of it :)
Edit: WOW didn’t expect so much people to comment on this! Thanks everybody! |
I laid in the hospital bed, staring into my new born baby's eyes with wonder, amazement and joy. The labor had been difficult but it was finally over and I held my baby in my arms. But then I was overcome with an intense feeling of sadness, maybe it was all the hormones, but I was now terribly distraught that my best friend Abigail wasn't at the hospital with me to meet my baby girl. I begged her to come, but she said she was going away for her birthday and it was too late to change anything, but she would see me soon. Looking into my baby's eyes, at her beautiful face, I suddenly understood why she couldn't be there. And then I thought about our friendship and the day we met.
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It all felt so serendipitous. I had just finished writing up my proposal for a big sales meeting, at my favorite coffee shop. When I looked at the time I realized I would be late if I didn't leave immediately. I shoved my laptop in my bag and ran towards the door. I hadn't seen her standing there, and we slammed into each other, spilling her coffee all over my clean white shirt.
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"Oh my god! I'm so, so sorry" she exclaimed.
"No, it was my fault for being in such a rush." I looked down at my shirt now soaked in coffee."Oh, no. I can't wear this to the sales meeting. Shit, I better call my boss and have him start without me." I said in defeat.
"Wait, I think we might wear the same size, I have an extra blouse in my car. You can change really quick and I'll take your shirt to the dry cleaners. It's the least I can do." she said with a smile.
"Are you sure? I don't want to cause you any trouble, really it was my fault."
"It's no trouble, I'll meet you in the ladies room with the shirt and you can be on your way to your meeting."
I went to ladies room and took off the stained shirt, she came in a moment later with frilly red blouse and suit jacket. They both fit perfectly, which I thought was a bit odd because she was clearly a couple sizes smaller than me.
"I wasn't sure if you would want the jacket, but with how frazzled you were I assumed it's an important meeting so you should dress to impress." She picked up my shirt from the sink. "I'll have this one cleaned and we can meet latter to swap. My name's Abigail by the way."
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I agreed and we exchanged numbers. I rushed off to my meeting, careful not to run into anyone else on my way out of the coffee shop. I arrived on time and my proposal was a huge success. I looked forward to seeing Abigail later that evening to thank her for saving my ass and tell her about all the compliments I got from her outfit.
&#x200B;
We talked for hours that night. We had so much in common and we quickly became best friends and were nearly inseparable for the next two years. She always seemed so interested in me and asked a lot of questions. Not just how my day was, but questions about where I had grown up, what my childhood was like, what my long term life goals would be. It was nice, to finally have a friend who showed genuine interest in me. So many of my friends only ever wanted to complain about their problems and ask for advice. But Abigail rarely ever talked about herself, often times she seemed to avoided questions about her life when I asked, changing the subject or giving vague answers.
&#x200B;
The day I found out I was pregnant, I couldn't wait to share the news with her.
&#x200B;
"I have exciting news and I wanted you to be the first to know. I'm pregnant!" I squealed. We hugged and she squeezed me really tight. When I pulled back I could see tears in her eyes. "What's the matter? I thought you would be as excited as I am."
"I am, I'm so very happy for you. I just... well, I thought we would have more time." she said, trying to smile.
"What are you talking about, time for what? Sure things will change and I'll be busy but I'm expecting you to be auntie Abigail to this baby, don't you want that?" I asked, confused and worried.
"I...I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm saying. I guess the thought of you having a baby just reminded me of... Mom... never mind, I'm so glad to see you this happy."
I realized that I had never heard her talk about her family and now I had so many questions. "You've never talked about your mom before Abigail, did something happen, please tell me." I pleaded.
"I really shouldn't talk about it, it wouldn't be fair to you."
"Fair? Please tell me, you know you can tell me anything, I'm your best friend Abigail."
"My mom, she died shortly after I was born. I really can't share the details with you, all I ever knew about her were stories. But I feel like I know everything about her now. She was an amazing person and I think she would be proud to see the woman I grew up to be." She said, holding back tears.
"Of course she would be proud of you. You're my favorite person in the whole world, and that should count for something."
"Thank you. It means so much to hear you say that, I love you."
We hugged again and then she left. She became more distant over the next nine months. I only saw her a few more times after that day. I felt like I had done something wrong, that I had somehow offended her by getting pregnant.
&#x200B;
My husband's voice suddenly brought me back to reality. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he said, stroking her tiny head. "Have you decided what we're going to name her?
I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. "Her name is Abigail." | I would almost be touched if I wasn’t afraid. My wife Amanda is 2 months pregnant with our first child. I haven't the heart to tell her I have less than 7 months to live. Why would she believe me? How would she react?
“Did you find the noodle mix?” Ben asks me, as I peruse through his backpack. *No, but I found the truth.*
“Not yet, you said it was in a blue bag?” I asked, frantically replacing the notepad. There it was - Pork ramen, my favorite. Ben would know this; Amanda should have told him. I returned to the cooksite. It was several hundred feet away from the tents, as a precaution to keep bears, squirrels, and everything else away.
“Did Amanda leave to get water,” I asked.
“Yes, she left 5 minutes ago.”
“Good; You should know something – I found your notebook."
Ben froze. He did a quick pat down of his jacket, only to realize it was missing. He opened his mouth as of to say something, but decided against it, and instead we sat in silence for a moment.
“Does mom know?” he finally asked.
“No, and I’m not going to tell her.”
“I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to find out,” Ben said, frowning.
“Why did you do it? Why leave everything behind?” I asked.
Ben shifted for a moment; He never expected this, not from me. I had read the notes; time travel was a one-way trip.
“Because if I can save you – I can save myself; your version of myself.” Ben said.
“You think you need to be saved?”
“Yes, I do,” Ben said. He laced his hands behind his neck. “You don’t know what it was like, growing up without a father. I never fit in - never had a family - never fell in love. Maybe, just maybe, if I can save you, I can do something worthwhile.”
I sat thinking for a moment; It was all too much for me. Ben had jumped into my life less than a year ago, sitting next to me on the first day of MATH 201. We had hit it off ever since. He was like a younger; more energetic version of myself. He was kind, smart, and compassionate. I was, for lack of a better term, proud of the man who claimed to be my son. How could he beat himself up like this?
“Can you tell me when it happened?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“Only that it happens soon, but I don’t know what happens, or how to stop it from – “
Amanda’s scream rang out through the wilderness. I leapt to my feet, Ben followed.
“Amanda?” I yelled, running towards the river.
I arrived just in time to see the bear tackle Amada.
“Amanda.” I shouted. I charged the bear. I don’t know what came over me, but I ran straight at the angry, 250 lb. hunk of muscle.
The bear, startled, raised itself up on its two legs and bellowed a fierce roar. It was only then did I see the two cubs scoot run away from the shore and into the bushes. This was a mother cub protecting her young from the evil likes of Amanda. I had to get I the bear away from her.
“Leeeeroy Jenkins!” I yelled, terrified, and unable to think of anything better. I picked up a nearby rock and hurled it at the bear, who was now barreling towards me.
I was knocked to the ground by the bear. It clamped it’s jaw around my shoulder. I screamed, but the pain was all gone. It was a moment of pure adrenal bliss. I struggled against the bear as she bit down hard, shattering bone. I fell to the ground; a red mist appeared above me. It was Ben, with bear spray. The bear turned and ran, following her cubs into the brush.
“Stay with me; It’s going to be OK.” Ben said, cradling my head in his arms. He was crying.
“Ben- listen, you want to make a difference? Be there for my kid.”
“That’s messed up,” he sobbed. “You can’t die on me.”
I looked at my mangled, bloody shoulder. I didn’t have long.
“You have to save her; save the baby. Please – be there for her.” I said, sputtering.
“I’m sorry dad. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save you.”
“You did save me,” I said, looking Ben in the eyes, ”now go save yourself.”
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*Check out my new sub* r/BLT_WITH_RANCH *if you like these kinds of stories.* | 2018-10-30T11:59:40 | 2018-10-30T11:39:38 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] You are the owner of a magic backpack; every morning you stick your hand in and it contains exactly what you need for the day. One morning it contains a gun. | "A gun."
"Why a gun?!" I yell in panic, realising this afterwards and lowering my voice.
There was no doubt that I was always the odd one in my neighbourhood. I was that one girl in the apartment block that kept her life together by pieces of dusty cellotape. It just so happened that that tape, was a bag. Yes, a bag. One day I bought a knock off bag from an old shop in the Lake District, and since then every morning it has given me what I need for the day. Good timing, too. Almost eerily good timing, as my life was at its breaking point; whenever I was broke I woke up and there'd be money for sandwiches and coffee. Or there'd be ready meals or meal vouchers- you name it, I got it.
That's how I got to this morning. I woke up with the same curiosity as I had had for the past year. I got changed for my job (at McDonalds, might I add), made myself a crappy cup of coffee and picked up my backpack. I left the complex and walked down the road to my place of work. In the mornings, we got complimentary drinks depending on our situation or the time we were working, as I worked the early morning shift I was always greeted with a frappé, which was most appreciated. I got myself ready for the counter shift and checked the usual compartment in my backpack, seeing if the new "thing" was anything I would need that looked work related. It wasn't.
I pulled out a small hand gun.
Why the hell would I need this today? Was it some kind of sick joke? Can this bag even tell jokes?
I felt sick to the stomach, and threw the gun back into the bag. I felt wrong, I felt guilty.
The whole day as I worked I felt anxious. Why did the bag give me a gun? I couldn't just whip it out and keep it beside me as protection, I'd surely be arrested on the spot. So I worked my shift and got ready to leave.
I work most of the day, because I have virtually nothing else to do. Because of this, I'm usually the first one there and one of the last ones there. This means when leaving I have to take the trash out and check the bathrooms.
Still on edge, I checked the bathrooms and picked up the trash. Exiting the backdoor of the restaurant, I put the trash in the bin and turned to leave.
That's when I saw a figure standing a ways in front of me. Shaking, I slowly backed up to the wall and grabbed my backpack. The figure noticed me. I saw the head spin towards me, still fumbling with the backpack's string. Not looking up, I heard footsteps advance and before the gruff voice could finish calling out my name I..
I shot
And I shot
And I shot, and shot, and shot.
I was sobbing hysterically at this point.
I knew who it was that I had killed. | David yelled out in shock as the cold metal fell out from his clammy hand and onto the sidewalk pavement. The cold morning wind not only augmented onto the despair he felt, but it gave an eerie chill that ran down his back. His eyes quickly darted from left to right. No people. Dead quiet.
His hands and legs still shaking, he managed to will himself back up. He felt like he was going to vomit from the ringing in his ears and the dizziness. With a burst of adrenaline, he quickly gathered back his backpack and the gun, knowing only to well that the fate he had. In a moment's notice, various memories rushed through his mind. A memory of his alcoholic father coming in the house, raising his voice and stomping on his pet hamster because "G-d willed humanity to reign over animals". Another memory flashed by of his mother ramming herself into the wooden cupboard to blame him for attempted rape and domestic violence so she can prove to his father how great of a son he was. Painful memories... Memories from his childhood up until now.
Suddenly David let out a deep sigh. Tears rolled down his face with his fist tightly clenched still holding onto the gun with a dead man's grip. The most painful memory of them all escaped the tightly sealed doors of his mind. The trauma was once again relived behind his closed and tightly sealed eyelids. He opened his eyes and with sudden great strides and a brisk pace, he walked toward the place where he knew the individual he had to delete existed... his grandfather's house.
EDIT: deleted an accidental second "out" in the first sentence. | 2017-05-09T14:14:53 | 2017-05-09T13:03:36 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] You have been cursed to always tell the truth. Not because you're unable to say something you know is false, but because once you say it, the universe will rearrange itself to make what you said true. | "Oi, Bob," Dave said, sticking his head around my cubicle. "You want in on this?"
I pulled my headphones down with a sigh and looked up from my code. "In on what?"
"Corporate is letting us use the company box at the racecourse." He grinned like a child at Christmas. "I've already got my accumulator in. Black Blue in the first, By Choice in the second and Wet Dream in the third."
"Three wins in one go. Nobody's that lucky," I scoffed.
Dave looked at me suspiciously for a moment, before his confidence returned. "You'll see. I'm going to clean up."
"You really won't," I muttered, and turned back to my work, expecting that to be the last of it.
For a few hours, it was. And then, just as I was headed out for lunch, a couple of interns jumped me. Before I knew what was happening, I had a sack over my head and I was being shoved into a van. I tried to say something, anything, and just got a mouthful of weirdly turnip tasting cloth. Tires screeched. The engine roared. I was thrown this way and that. It was enough to make you feel sympathy for laundry in a washing machine. Fortunately, I was clearly on quick-spin, because it was only moments before I was being thrown back out again. Someone tied me to a chair. The sack came off.
"You!" I said.
"How did you do it?" Dave asked. He'd clearly been having a bad day. His suit was ruffled, his tie missing, his little remaining hair wild and his fat cheeks red. It fit surprisingly well with the abandoned warehouse thing we had going on around us.
"Get kidnapped?!" I said hotly. "I think that's obvious, Dave."
"The races," Dave hissed. "How did you make me lose?"
"I didn't make you lose," I complained. "I'm not sure you understand probability--"
"No, you don't understand." Dave got right in my face, grabbing my head when I tried to turn away from his spittle and foul breath. "We rigged the races, Bob. We rigged the bets. Three wins in one go, no luck involved."
I stared at him. "You what? Dave, you're an accountant. How do you know anything about fixing horse races?"
"Three wins! And I should have cleaned up. Except!" Dave let go of my head to poke me in the shoulder so hard the chair span. When I came back into view, he promptly did it again, sending me spinning the other way. Much more of this and I was going to vomit on his stupid pointy-toed leather shoes. "Except, Bob, every one of those wins was declared a misrun. How could that happen?"
"Doping is really quite prevalent in--" I tried to say.
"It was you!" Dave yelled. "You did it somehow! You said I wouldn't win, and I didn't! Well, the joke's on you, Bob."
I tried not to wet my pants as he pulled the largest, most lethal looking gun I have ever seen and squared it right between my eyes.
"Dave. Dave! C'mon! Someone will have seen. The police will be here any second." Almost as if I had summoned them, sirens sounded and colored lights flashed outside the high windows. Dave spun on the spot, panting wildly and grabbing at his hair. "Just let me go, and I'll talk to them, get you a light sentence."
"I'm not going to the big house!" He cocked the gun. "Say goodbye, Bob!"
"You don't have a license," I said desperately. "Where did you even get that gun? I bet it's not even real."
He pulled the trigger. Water sprayed my face and also my trousers, or at least that was what I intended to tell anyone who asked. While Dave was still gaping at the gun in his hand as if he had never seen it before, I planted my feet, lifted the chair with a grunt of effort, and charged him. We went down with an almighty crash, just as the police burst into the warehouse.
"Ow," I managed.
A policeman untied me and helped me up while his companions were arresting Dave. "Are you okay, sir?"
"I'm fine," I said automatically and found that, actually, I was. The lingering pain from the crash had faded. Landing on Dave must have cushioned the blow. "I just want to go home. You don't need me for a statement. Right?"
The policeman looked confused for a moment, then shrugged a little. "No, I don't think so, sir. Can we take you somewhere?"
I thought about my nosy neighbors seeing a police car delivering me to my house. I would never hear the end of it. "I'll get a cab. I have plenty of money."
Luckily, there was a taxi waiting just down the street. I gave the driver my address and leaned back with a sigh. After a moment, I pulled out my wallet to check. It was filled with hundreds. More than enough to get me home.
"Huh," I said.
It felt like I was missing something. But, truth be told, I couldn't quite put my finger on what. | I'm not sure when it started, but I remember the first time. I was four years old.
My parents had friends over and even from my bedroom I could hear their cackling laugther from the backyard. I was playing with their daughter Jane, in my room where we were sentenced, comparing our colouring-in skills and gathering every item of doll clothing we could find into a pile.
Jane had brought a doll along with her. It was a new one from the mermaid collection where the legs could be removed and replaced with a tail. I'd been begging my parents for my own one all year. Then Jane beat me to it and with her smug smirk, showed it to me, knowing very well the power she possessed in her hand.
"Can I play with Aquaria?" I asked.
"Later."
Patiently, I waited for my turn when I could hold Aquaria and allow her to swim gracefully through the air. But after an hour of a game where I obediently allowed Jane to call the shots regarding the narrative, coincidently taking place under the sea, I was growing impatient.
"Oh hello Prince," Jane sang as she stood Aquaria up beside a prince doll.
"Hello Aquaria," I greeted, walking my own doll aross the carpet and to Aquaria and the prince.
"NO! Your doll can't breathe under water," Jane shouted.
"The prince can," I argued.
"He's a mermaid. You're not."
"When is it my turn with Aquaria?"
"Later."
Then as the game continued without me and the adults cackling carried on, I snatched Aquaria from Jane's hands.
The dispute between us became loud enough that even our drunk parents heard. They came to the room, gathering in the doorway and asked, "What are you both fighting about?"
"Jane said she'll share but she won't!" I cried as both our hands clutched on to Aquaria, causing her tail to stretch from our pulls.
"LATER! Now let go!" Jane shouted at me.
My father sighed frustratedly and stepped into the room. "Neither of you can play with it."
He crouched down and grasped the doll's bodice. Jane let go defiantly but I still held on to her head. "It's mine," I stated to my father.
"I know, but if you can't play nicely with it, you don't get to play with it at all."
The adults wandered off, muttering to themselves as they returned to the backyard with the doll.
I glared angrily at Jane who fiddled nerouvsly with another doll. I stood up and walked out of the room as tears began to form in my eyes. Now I'd never get to to play with Aquaria.
I watched television while my stomach rumbled from hungriness. A while had passed when Jane sat beside me on the sofa. "I'm sorry I didn't give your doll back."
I turned to her confused. "My doll?"
"I just really liked it."
I remained silent, unsure of what was happening.
"Do you want to play hide & seek?" Jane asked.
I nodded and hopped from the couch to play.
That night, my father stumbled drunkenly to my room where I still lied awake. From behind his back he pulled out Aquaria and placed her on the bed beside me. I stared wide eyed at him, wondering why he had just stolen and what would Jane's parents say?
He kissed me on the forehead where his bourbon breath lingered for some time before he crept out of the room.
"Goodnight Aquaria," I whispered, still smiling from my secret. Though it wouldn't be a secret for long. My primary school's bully's heads beingreplaced with replica's of their buttocks gave it away. | 2019-05-29T01:28:27 | 2019-05-29T00:52:26 | 874 | 73 |
[WP] "I'm sorry", the alien says. "Per official definition humans aren't earths dominant species. And since earths dominant species never developed spaceflight per galactic law earth is a primitive planet, with all that entails" | "What are you talking about?" Henry dismissed the scruffy homeless man bothering him.
"I am informing you that humans are not the rulers of this world. You are not as intelligent as you think you are" a frail homeless man stepped in front of him.
"Out of my way! Take it" Henry held out five euro to the man.
"I do not need your money. I am an inspector here, I dress up as the weak in society to judge how the strongest are. My name is Erlend. Its a nordic name meaning outsider. What is your name?"
"Does it matter?" Henry scoffed. "You should know that you have nothing to gain from me"
"But you have everything to gain from me. And of course it matters. Your name is Henry. It means "Ruler of the Home". You have been chosen to be the one to help spread the bad news, unfortunately"
"Your insane. I'll be on my way now" Henry shuffled to the side only to feel a cold hand grip his arm. The man's wrinkles suddenly evaporated, his beard looked fuller and his face became more handsome. However the most unbelievable thing to Henry was the man's iron grip.
"Perhaps, you will believe me now" Erlend looked taller now, in fact he towered over Henry.
"What are you?" Henry tried to step back but the man was still holding onto his arm.
"I am a part of a race that have been observing your planet for quite some time now. Your species are the reason why we distinguish between intelligence and wisdom. Although you have shown great efforts in tearing the earth apart, there is another species that is stronger than you. he grinned at the last sentence
"What?" Henry thought it was perhaps dolphins, elephants or even lions.
"Bacteria. This may surprise you but they are everywhere here, they have survived the longest on this planet and are the most durable. Unfortunately they have not invented spaceflight yet" Erlend argued.
"That is the most stupid reasoning I have ever heard" Henry said
"I agree with you. But you know as well as I do, bureaucracy is stupidity. Your species is in the process of becoming the most dominant. Homo Sapiens. It has been for the last 10,000 years. It seems like the council has an agenda"
"Why?"
"Because they are afraid of humans. Humans are the most violent creatures to have ever lived. I have seen that throughout my years here. And many others have. In my world, while you were inventing nuclear missiles, we were building bridges between planets. Both metaphorically and literally. And finally, mankind have the capability to travel to space. You are not the most dominant species in your world. But you do have the potential to be the most dominant species in our universe. So perhaps, bureaucracy is not so stupid after all."
"Why not kill us all earlier, before we advanced our warfare"
"Because we underestimated you. You were fighting each other throughout all of your history yet your species still manages to not become extinct. However we began to play catch up when we saw how destructive you could be. Thats when we decided to keep you as a primitive planet. Our species are not as resilient as yours are. So, we tried to poison you. We created many bacteria to send to your planet until finally bacterium Yersinia pestis caused your black death. We thought we wiped you out".
Henry pushed the man's arm away although he knew Erlend allowed him to "You are physically strong. You must not have needed to create external weapons to survive like we did. Yet, you learned in a short time. Maybe we are not so different. " Henry paused pensively.
"What does primitive status mean?"
"If a planet is declared primitive for 10,000 years, it may be wiped out to make room for other species to colonise according to intergalactic law. Space is full of planets however most of them are inhabitable. Humans are quite versatile however other aliens are not so lucky. Earth is quite attractive to many creatures, and soon there will be another black death."
"So, what do you want me to do?" Henry said.
"I do not agree with my species. I want to defend mankind. We are going on an adventure. Do you know where your towel is?"
"What do you mean?" Henry said. He blinked and when he opened his eyes the man was gone. His wallet was taken from his breast pocket. 'Shit, I can't believe I fell for the ravings of a homeless man'' Henry thought.
Erlend walked on, looking for a Henry who was sensible enough to know where his towel is, as *is is the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have.* He had to hurry for he wanted to find one before other species colonised the earth. | "Yeah yeah, whatever," Aurelio grumbled at the alien-looking humanoids. They were tall, lean and blue-skinned; to him, they were just palette-swapped elves. "Ms. Sharp wants to [keep space and alien stuff out of the AlterNet](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ckr224/wp_two_humanlike_figures_step_off_the_galactic/?). If you keep this act up, your accounts will be suspended," he added. He brought his slate up for added effect. The smokey-translucent glass panel hovered in front of him. Other players couldn't see what was on it, but he made sure to tell them he was a mod the moment he arrived. That usually made players nervous enough to listen.
"AlterNet?" one of the aliens asked.
"Ms. Sharp?" the other one commented. "We are unfamiliar with these terms." Aurelio raised an eyebrow, then his hands danced across the smokey slate. He immediately took several steps backward; the hovering slate moved with him.
"Holy hell.. you guys are real?" he mumbled under his breath. The only thing his slate told him was they were unidentifiable; definitely not AlterNet characters. Despite the distance between them and the low tone of Aury's voice, both alien figures nodded.
"We are," one said. Aurelio's fingers typed something on the slate while he kept his eyes on them.
"Your primitive planet has been annexed by our glorious empire to serve as a vacation destination. Although galactic law grants you no rights, my people are compassionate to intelligent life forms. You may continue to live and serve us as slaves."
"Real compassionate," Aurelio rolled his eyes as a black portal appeared next to him. A short, pale woman in a black suit walked out." Aurelio did not waste any time; he pointed at the aliens.
"I think they're real," he said. Melody glanced at the alien beings; her eyes flashed with gold stars. She nodded.
"They are. Leave," she said. Aurelio did not need to be told twice. He dismissed his slate and jumped into the open black hole. Melody's hands began to glow with a bright blue light.
"Amazing. He completely left this universe, and you came from a different one," one of the aliens said. Both took a step down their boarding ramp toward Melody.
"You're lucky Ms. Sharp doesn't care about your galactic community," Melody grinned. "Maybe a bit unlucky that she doesn't care about this server either," she aimed her palms at the ground with splayed fingers. "But, I'm sure your council won't have trouble getting along without you, or Earth." Bright blue star plasma flowed out of Melody's hands and melted the ground. A portal opened at her feet and swallowed her to safety the moment she ignited the Earth's core.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year three, story #209. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | 2020-07-27T15:28:16 | 2020-07-27T09:26:05 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] Due to your careful planning, your family has successfully survived the nuclear apocalypse. There's just one thing you didn't prepare for. Ghosts. An entire planet of fucking ghosts. | *Urist McMason cancels make slab: Interrupted by a ghost.*
It was late spring of 218, eighteen years after Bronzekill's founding and nearing two years after its depopulation.
It had seemed like such a good plan at the time. The fortress was slowing to a crawl, overpopulation reducing everyone's productivity. There were almost 200 dwarves now, and yet tasks sat unfinished on the manager's desk for months on end. There was always something else to do: Migrants to train, rocks to collect, booze to drink, plump helmet spawn to whine about not being able to find because your friend is holding the bag. The fortress' scholars (of which there were far too many) speculated that even the universe itself was slowing down under the strain.
So the manager came up with a plan. Bronzekill's most skilled dwarves would be burrowed in a saferoom separate from the main fort. A series of channels and drawbridges would be constructed to tap into the volcano's supply of magma, and another deep underground to drain the magma again. Finally, the fortress would be flooded with magma.
The dwarves happily executed this plan over the course of a year. Finally, the preparations were complete. Twenty skilled dwarves took refuge in their safe burrow, sealing the door with a drawbridge for good measure. Finally, one of them pulled the lever marked "Fuck The World".
Magma coursed through the halls of Bronzekill. Dwarf after dwarf cancelled their jobs, crying out at the dangerous terrain, or their inability to find a path, or the destruction of a job item or workshop, before melting as the magma overtook them. Scores of nobles, scholars, cheesemakers, potash makers, fish cleaners, and other glorified haulers vanished before the flood of liquid !!fun!!.
As quickly as it had started, it was over - which is to say, it was several weeks before the magma reached the last stragglers, and several more before it finished draining and the vault was opened.
The remaining dwarves returned to Bronzekill and found their productivity greater than ever before. The magma had washed away more than just dwarves: Mounds of tattered clothing, piles of wooden weapons taken from sissy elves, entire stockpiles of abandoned rock mugs. All the useless clutter had been melted away, leaving only the magma-safe steel and marble which was the core of Bronzekill's industry.
For a year, Bronzekill flourished like never before. Then...
*Urist McSoapmaker has risen as a ghost and is haunting the fortress!*
Only then did the manager realize his mistake. There were plenty of available coffins, but the magma had left no corpses to bury. He ordered the mason and engraver to begin making and engraving slabs, but the ghosts were rising faster than they could be memorialized.
Panicking, the manager conscripted all of the fort's dwarves to build more workshops and make slabs as best they could, and the tide of ghosts seemed to lessen. Then, disaster struck.
*Urist McCheesemaker cancels engrave memorial: Interrupted by magma.*
Magma was once again coursing through the veins of Bronzekill. The ghost of Urist McMayor had pulled The Lever.
There was no time to evacuate to a saferoom. The impromptu workshops had been set up in the main dining hall, right in the path of Operation Fuck The World.
The manager had one last thought before the last of his dwarves was swallowed up by the magma.
"That was !!Fun!!." | "Axel,AXEL! Can you please stop those ghosts back there?! They're sniffling like,what the fuck?!" Prose said as she pointed at the ghosts on the other side of the bunker.
"We don't have a priest here! And we can't even craft holy water! It's a waste of oil!' Axel replied stiffly.
"Why didn't they believe the media,anyways?!" Prose wondered.
"Well,the Media has ruined their reputation and paid for it." Axel answered.As they kept talking,a ghost came over.
"Pleeeeaaasee.... Heeeeeellllpppp...." The Ghost wailed.
"Johnny. Fuck you." Axel gave the finger to Johnny.
"That's what you get for thinking that the cloud was a fucking firework!" Prose said to Johnny.A moment later,their kids came along with their parents.
"Dad! MOM! MY TEACHER STILL INSISTS IN TEACHING ME!" His son Alfred said,crying.
"That's good! We still need education! There might be other survivors." Axel replied,trying to hold back his laughter.
"Aaaalllfreeed....whaaat is....9 + 10...?" A wailing voice was heard in the living room of the bunker.
"Seriously,DAD!!" Alfred ran back to the living room with a frown.
"Axel...Let the ghosts be!" His mother said.
"Mom...they're bothering us! If we could,i would have exorcised the ghosts that bother us!" Axel was getting over his boiling point.
"Proooooseee.....Whhyyyy did you leeaaaveee meee?" Another ghost came wailing.
"Fuck it,Mark! You're the fucking past! Like,it's been 11 years since we separated because you're fucking stupid! If i went with you,i would have died in the explosion!" Prose shouted.
"Ooooooooooh BOOOOOOY! This is gonna be a long day.." Prose's father said as he turned on the TV because somehow,the stations didn't get destroyed and it was set to replay everything every morning. | 2016-11-30T06:25:25 | 2016-11-29T20:49:36 | 50 | 13 |
[WP] Interstellar wars are quick, most species die of shock quite quickly. Getting shot was a death sentence. That was until humans joined the Galaxy... | "Why do you humans not die?" I asked my human captor.
"What?" He looks at me confused, at least that's what it looked like to me.
"You are beaten up, shot, bleeding. That is a death sentence for everyone....Everyone except humans. What makes you different?"
My captor laughed. "Is that the reason why you're so afraid of us?"
I looked at him angrily. "This is not funny! Many of the other races, including my own, fear you! Even right now I am afraid as my life is in your hands! But I need to know! I need to know..."
"Well, let me ask you a question. If I hit you with the back of my gun, what would happen to you?"
"Is this relevant?" I asked.
"Just answer the question and I'll tell you what you want." He replied.
"If you hit my head, it would knock me out for a day, if I'm lucky. Any other part would paralyze me for an hour due to the pain. There, you happy now?"
"The pain...I see." He mulled it over. "You guys have extremely low pain tolerance. Getting knocked out will cause them to wake up within a few minutes to a few hours, assuming there aren't any complications. An average human can walk off a punch in the body after a few seconds."
"Immobilize? A few seconds? **YOU** were still charging at us even while being shot!" I retorted.
"Oh, you mean that? I have to admit that it was painful." He said it as a matter of fact.
"That...that was enough pain to kill me 10 times over!"
"A civilian may die of shock from that much pain, but I'm a soldier. I was conditioned to handle that much." He paused.
"And besides, the pain is just there to tell me that I'm still alive. Even now I'm still feeling it." He admitted.
"You willingly subject yourselves to pain?! You guys are insane!" I yelled, terrified at the revelation.
"Hah! As if! That's called training! You guys do train, right?"
"...Yes, we do. We are trained to dodge enemy fire using harmless lasers."
"Harmless lasers- okay you know what? The moment you get back to your people, you better tell them to start training on handling pain. Start with something small then work your way up, considering I'm here to tell you that I'm escorting you back to your people within a few days."
"I-I'm free?" I asked.
"You've been imprisoned for a while, so you didn't know, but we actually managed to get into an agreement with your government to cease the hostilities."
"I...I can't believe it. I'm going to see my family."
"Yeah. I've been a P.O.W. myself in the past so I know what you're feeling right now." He said empathetically as he unlocked my shackles.
He helped me up and said, "Come. One of the terms was that our species exchange information with each other. Is there anything you want to find out?"
I thought hard about it, then answered "I want to handle pain better."
"Huh, I kinda expected that. Alright, let's start with something small like eating something spicy."
"Eating? What does eating have to do with handling pain?" I asked.
"Oh you'll find out in a bit..." He chuckled as he led me to the base's cafeteria. | Humans were so fascinating, yet so fragile. That was what Lamaza thought of them.
Give them a gun or a sword, and they had the drive, ambition, and the cruelty to conquer. Yet, beneath the facade of conqueror, every Galactic organization noticed their fragility, as in a glass statue-- so beautifully fascinating, yet breakable in a swift swing.
When the One Spica War began sometime in the year 2055, humans, for the first time, were inducted into the ranks. Somehow, they were immune to the psychic abilities manipulated by the majority of species, indifferent to other sorts of attacks.
*The bottom line, was that something in them, made them immune to those "psychic bullets". Some sort of-- device, within them, made it impossible to attack them that way directly.*
See, humans, while fascinating, were not coveted because of their uniquely individualistic spirit. Not because of the wanton cruelty they so often seemed to engage in. Not because they would ever be the victor in any sort of conflict.
Lamaza spun around, to address the muzzled human laying supine on the metal slab, tubes and cables extending from their neck, eyes, abdomen, and head. The whole apparatus oscillated every now and then, breathing as any organism would do in a rhythmic, sighing fashion.
"The pituitary gland." he muttered, performing quick motions with his pronged hands. "The pituitary gland has always been the key."
For the moment they discovered humanity's secret, they discovered the greatest defense against psychic energy that they had ever seen. It would change the course of Galactic Wars forever, revolutionize the industry.
Lamaza reached into the scalp, which now spread like the petals of a moonblossom, his fingers reaching for the gland with near deadly accuracy.
*And thus the secret is spread.*
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/bluelizardK | 2019-10-25T09:19:31 | 2019-10-25T08:04:16 | 131 | 62 |
[WP] You're a female hero in a fantasy world, and you are annoyed. The wizards keep giving you enchanted armor with incredible stats, but it looks RIDICULOUS! This one has nipples! This one has a hole over your heart! This one is just a necklace and a belt! Would they please STOP IT! | I held up the 'breastplate' between finger and thumb and turned to the shopkeeper.
"Just who designed this ... thing?" This thing made of fine silver wire in a wide mesh, rubies strategically placed, so low-cut everything between my collar-bone and my navel would be visible. "I presume it goes with the belt with the strip of fur dangling from it?"
The shop-keep drew himself up. "Those are among Mage-smith Weinsten's finest creations. Enchanted to be proof against all ordinary missiles and any sword of less than dwarven make, resist all cantrips and many lesser spells, and keep the wearer warm or cool as the weather requires. The purchase price includes a personal fitting by Mage Weinsten himself, adjusting it to his complete satisfaction, as it adapts to any figure."
I had seen Mage Weinsten on a podium with other town dignitaries - a tall bulky man, heavy-jowled, richly if carelessly dressed. He had a reputation for assisting young women in their careers, in return for certain favours, and also for ruining the careers of those he disfavoured. The few who had spoken against him had not prospered. Several of my friends had suffered from his attentions.
"I'll buy it," I said abruptly.
"Certainly, my lady. If you have three hundred crowns it is yours." I tossed him a purse.
"Arrange a fitting as soon as you can."
The fitting took place - where else - in a private room in Weinsten's town-house. The man himself stood before me, smirking.
"I will just take your measurements, to ensure the best possible fit," he said, approaching me with a tape. I raised my arms, he ran his hands over my leather bodice and then stiffened and fell over.
"Oh dear. I forgot about that paralytic contact poison. So sorry. Never mind - it wears off in a few hours. I'm still keen to see if this armour is as adaptable as the shopkeeper advertised."
Weinsten's reputation never recovered from being found at dawn in the main square, wearing only a mesh top and a fur thong. The more so as he had been glued into the garments with an alchemical potion that could only be removed a finger's-width at a time by the patient application of swine urine. | "Well you inconsistent asshole." the Wizard, Lady Emerald von Lowerwitz "Do you ever think about how enchanting works? No. I fucking thought not. Because you daft idiots are always the same 'ugh, it's demeaning!' no you dumbass it's Revoc's Law; the power of an enchantment is tied to how much mana the body empowering it can absorb."
She looked at her client with sever distate. "Any idiot can make a decent suit of armor with a silver allow to weaken magic. however you insisted on the power powerful enchantments possible which requires exposed skin so you are better able to attune to it and gain more mana. Why do you think the Men walk around shirtless all the time?!"
Elphenten frowned. "that seems like a shitty justification."
"Take it up with the gods. they wanted this universe the way it was and honestly i see no problem with it; it's nothing anyone here hasn't seen before." | 2022-11-21T05:12:42 | 2022-11-21T04:55:13 | 200 | 25 |
[WP] Magic is discovered to be real. The catch? Spells are just like computer programs: difficult to write, and even harder to do correct the first try. You're a spell bug tester, and you've seen just about everything go wrong, but today's typo is on a whole other level... | **Issue: [SEVERE]** 'Magic Hands' spell applied to subject rather than pure conjuration
**Type:** Application
**Severity:** A
**Priority:** 1
**Assigned to:** Matt Traynor
**Submitted by:** Greg Philmore
**Summary:**
Set to severity A because this stupid fucking system doesn't give me a goddamn S-rank for this bullshit.
'Magic Hands' intention was, apparently, to create a set of said hands to perform simple tasks. Unfortunately, instead of setting the spell to conjure those hands, it does the following:
Turns the caster into a pair of *fucking sentient hands.*
I'm currently typing this bug report up as a pair of hands. I have no idea how this is even still working and I've still got the capacity to think, but there you go.
Matt: it seems like you forgot to set the spell to actually CONJURE rather than just apply it to whatever poor bastard got this one to test. FIX IMMEDIATELY.
Side notes: unable to turn down requests for things such as “Get me a coffee” or “Can you type this bug report up for me?” This is getting beyond a joke.
***EDIT: IT HAS BEEN FOUR HOURS. HAVE SUBMITTED 8 TICKETS TO SPELL TECH TO FIX THIS. FIRE MATT.***
**Comments:**
**(12:07) Matt Traynor:** Oh goddamn it I knew something was wrong with it! Sorry! I'll get on fixing that right away and send the changes over.
**(12:08) Greg Philmore:** I don't care about a fix for the bug at this point. I am going to spend the rest of the day slapping the shit out of you if you don't get on UNDOING this.
**(12:47) Kerry Lane:** This is hilarious. Greg has been at the coffee machine for 20 minutes serving up lattes. Also we haven't had to listen to him singing Jimmy Buffet songs all morning! This is bliss.
**(12:56) Matthew Hendry:** How long do you think we can keep this up for?
**(15:12) Greg Philmore:** FIRE MATT AFTER KICKING HIM DECIDEDLY IN THE NUTSACK | I cautiously stepped in through the front door, reeling at the lingering smell of sulfur and smoke that remained in the victims apartment. Books in varying states of ruin littered the room, the few undamaged pages covered in illegible and incomprehensible writing.
One of the books caught my attention, it's unblemished cover an ironic juxtaposition to the havoc wreaked around it. I carefully made my way over to the tome, only picking up the book with a pair of certified safety magic tongs^tm.
"SQLAlchemy for Dummies" was emblazoned across the top of the book, with a drawing of a smiling cartoon wizard staring back at the reader.
The smiling man had struck again.
| 2017-07-26T03:57:13 | 2017-07-26T00:25:02 | 417 | 22 |
[WP] People who achieve great deeds are rewarded with supernatural power beyond the wildest dreams of mortal men, and apparently eating a giant burrito in under half an hour meets the criteria | No one told Tyler Martin that pursuing his noble quest would cost him everything. His friends, his job… even his humanity.
Perhaps he should have known better. Great men and women throughout history sacrificed everything for their greatness. Tyler could have… *should* have stepped back from the depths of obsession years ago, but now his mission *was* his entire life.
Everyone told him it was impossible, but Tyler knew he would achieve the ‘impossible’. Tyler would be the first human being to ever eat an entire El Grande Gigante Burrito in under thirty minutes, rewarding him with free food at Sombrero’s Mexican Restaurant for the rest of his natural life.
The behemoth burrito—over a hundred pounds of deliciousness, wheeled out to a few brave customers in a wheel barrow—was his white whale, his lone goal in life. And he dedicated himself to the completion of his task completely.
His bedroom walls were plastered with burrito related research materials, potential strategies from hot dog eating contest champions, and newspaper clippings of people who had finished similar, if smaller, burrito challenges around the world.
“Hey Tyler!” his girlfriend Amanda called as she rounded the corner into the bedroom. “I’m late for work, have you seen my—”
She froze as she took in the sight of her boyfriend, wrapping himself in a giant tortilla blanket, topped with real lettuce, tomato, and half a dozen other ingredients balancing on his head.
“What the hell are you doing, Tyler?”
“To beat the burrito... I must *become* the burrito,” Tyler replied solemnly as he stared into a full length mirror.
“Jesus Christ…” Amanda muttered, more sadness than frustration present in her voice. “You’ve really and truly lost it, haven’t you?”
In silence, Tyler stared at her, madness in his eyes, and subtly licked his lips.
“Annnnnd you’re hallucinating me as a giant, walking, talking burrito. Aren’t you?” the human sized burrito standing before Tyler said.
“What? No!” Tyler lied. “But… could I take just like a tiny bite from your top left corner, Amanda? Your tortilla looks so delicious and freshly wrapped that I—”
“That’s it!” Amanda cried. “I’m… I’m sorry Tyler, but we’re done. I can't take this anymore. You love that stupid burrito more than you love me!”
“Oh, babe, no!” Tyler protested. “That’s not *remotely* burrito… I burrito you very very much, my darling burrito.”
Amanda stared at him for a long, awkward moment. “Goodbye Tyler. I’ll be back to collect my things tomorrow. In the meantime, I still care about you, so please… seek help.”
Tyler took Amanda’s advice and sought help with his burrito obsession in the form of a trip to his favorite burrito restaurant. As he stepped through Sombrero’s front door, the entire staff greeted him by name.
The owner, Hector was working the register this afternoon. He suppressed a grimace as Tyler approached the counter.
“Heyyyy, Tyler…” he said apprehensively. “Dare I ask what I can do for you toda—”
In a flash, Tyler slapped a crisp hundred dollar bill on the countertop. “One El Grande Gigante burrito, por favor.”
“Oh dios mio, not again...” Hector muttered, his face falling into his palm. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Tyler, you’ve been my best customer for a decade. I care for you like a somewhat obsessed, sorta creepy son. But I can’t keep letting you throw your life savings away! The El Grande Gigante is a novelty challenge meant to get tourists spending some extra cash as a fun little lark. Yannow, they can put it on Instagram, laugh about how they almost finished half in thirty minutes, and it gets us a little extra exposure? It’s *meant* to be impossible. I never expected a regular customer to attempt it over and over and over and—”
Tyler slid the hundred closer to Hector and tapped on it forcefully. “I’ll be at my usual table.”
Twenty minutes later, Hector and one of his chefs wheeled the wheelbarrow full of burrito to Tyler. Grunting under the weight, they lifted it onto his table, which groaned with protest under the massive weight.
“Alright,” Hector sighed, “your thirty minutes starts… now.”
Tyler dug into the El Grande Gigante like a man possessed, devouring layers of tortilla, rice, beans, chicken, carnitas, and carne asada with ease. He sped through the layer of fries and nacho cheese sauce, usually the section he found toughest to swallow, with ease. Even the dozens of hot sauces and salsas couldn’t slow his pace, normally he’d have to break for sips of water to tame the heat just slightly, but today he never even reached for his glass.
Even as his stomach filled beyond the point of bursting, he did not falter or slow his pace.
This quest had cost him everything, his friends, his job, and most recently his amazing, loving girlfriend of three wonderful years. He had nothing left to lose.
With three full minutes left on the clock, he reached for another bite, and chomped at nothing but air. He stared down at his bare plate and empty hands, dumbfounded. “I… I did it?”
Hector’s jaw hung open. “You… you did it…” He examined his best customer’s plate once more. “You freakin' did it!”
The restaurant exploded in applause, patrons and employees alike celebrating the completion of the impossible challenge. Hector yanked Tyler to his feet, lifting him off his feet in a bear hug of pure, genuine exuberance.
“Thanks, Hector!” Tyler said as Hector squeezed him, shaking from side to side. “But I’m literally, ugh, gonna explode if you keep this up. Urghhh, oh god... I wish I could skip the part where this sits in my stomach like thousands of delicious rocks.”
“Sorry, sorry!” Hector set him down. “I can’t help but celebrate, considering—”
Suddenly, time stopped around Tyler. Hector and everyone else in the restaurant froze in place, unmoving, unblinking.
“A most impressive feat, truly,” a strange voice warbled from behind him.
Tyler wheeled around to find an 8 foot tall man, outlined by an shimmering, ethereal golden glow.
“Who the hell… what the…” Tyler sputtered.
“Take a deep breath,” the stranger said, “Relax... I am Allerian, you might regard me as an ‘angel’ or ‘demon’ in your mortal parlance, and I mean you no harm. In fact, I am here to tell you of your reward for your incredible achievement.”
“I’ve got free food for life from my favorite restaurant,” Tyler replied, apprehensive. “What more could you possibly offer me that would—”
“How are you feeling?” the being asked. “Bursting at the seams a moment ago, dreading your next several *days* spent in a bathroom? But now…?”
The weight in Tyler’s gut vanished. “What the hell?” he muttered.
Allerian smiled. “You have been granted great power in keeping with the great task you have completed. No matter how much Mexican food you consume, you shall not feel fullness, gas, bloating, or discomfort.”
“Holy shit!" Tyler's eyes widened in realization. "Unlimited food at my favorite restaurant is literally going to mean *unlimited food.* Yes! This is the greatest day of my life!”
Tyler celebrated by pumping his fist in the air. At the apex of his final thrust, a gout of blinding orange flame shot from his hand, landing on and incinerating his favorite table.
“What the fuck!” Tyler shouted.
*“What the fuck?!”* the immortal being concerningly echoed.
“What was that?!” Tyler wailed. “Why would you give me the power to shoot fireballs n’ shit without telling me!”
“I did no such thing!” Allerian replied. “You ate one El Grande Gigante burrito and you were granted *one* incredible power as reward, to consume as much food as you desire. That is the way the system has worked for all eternity, throughout time and spac—”
He stopped himself as Tyler began to levitate off the ground. “Angel-demon dude?” Tyler cried as he floated toward the ceiling. “Help!”
“Oh my heavens and hells above and below...” Allerian said as realization dawned on him.
“What?!”
“Your burrito was so stuffed full of *so many* different ingredients, all in such large quantities, that I fear you may have mistakenly been granted a power for each component you consumed.”
Gaining some semblance of control, Tyler levitated back down to the ground, and grinned.
“Why in god’s name are you *smiling?”* Allerian demanded.
“Because,” Tyler said, as happy as he’d been in years, “it’s gonna be *hella* fun to learn what else I can do…”
\_\_\_\_
As requested, I wrote a Part 2. For the moment, [you can find it via this link to the whole story thus far](https://www.reddit.com/r/Ryter/comments/pzgkec/wp_people_who_achieve_great_deeds_are_rewarded/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) (scroll to bolded Part 2). I'll also have it posted in the comments below too, as soon as I figure out why Reddit thinks it's over the character limit 🤔 Hope you enjoy! | “What are you so in the dumps about? You should be honored that some grand god considered your grotesque appetite worth applauding. I had to study forty years in solitude to get gifted with these luxuries, and here you are, the bunking bean champion at Buffy’s burritos. What sort of god awards self-indulgence like that?” She hissed, Abby not even attempting to hide her disgust, turning her face away from the pot-bellied man who slouched over his victory table, not having moved since being given his gift.
“You wouldn’t get it. You’re some nerd that hid away in her basement all her life. How would you understand the curse I have been given?” Ben stared at his sauce coated hands, his stare one of horror as if the special bunking bean sauce on his hands was really the blood of a fallen comrade.
“I WOULDN’T GET IT?” Abby slammed a fist against the table, sending the table hurtling through the room, embedding itself in the wall, much to the shock of the underpaid worker who was closing the store. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll pay for the damages. Just get back to closing the store. This conversation won’t be much longer.”
The poor worker jogged into the backroom, trying to find the logic in what he had just seen. How did the small, smartly dressed businesswoman flip a table with such force? He marched back and forth in the backroom, building up the courage to confront her, only to remember he was making eight dollars an hour for this job, and it didn’t exactly include a health plan. With that in mind, he slouched against a row of frozen mince boxes, resting his body on the cool cardboard as he waited for them to leave.
“You wouldn’t. You don’t understand the curse they placed on me. I don’t want to be a powerful figure. I just want to eat at record speeds. Is that so hard to comprehend? I curse you; I curse you all.” He shouted, pointing a saucy finger to the heavens.
“Shush, they can hear you. Do you want to get smited? If so, at least wait until I move away from you beforehand.” With her warning given, she leaned closer to Ben, shooting him a glare from beneath her glasses. “What was that about me not understanding? They have given me the power of the gods; I can understand anything. Be happy that I even came to help you with your transition. No one came to give me advice on how to deal with my power. I learned on my own. I was a remarkable case, truly the first In my… wait, where are you going?”
Abby watched as Ben picked himself from the table, her dull conversation enough to knock him from his depressive paralysis. “If I wanted to be preached to, I would find a bus shelter with some nut job at it. Look, whatever happiness the gods gave you is a curse for me. What good is power if I can’t taste anything?”
“That’s what’s bothering you?” Abby rose, her self-righteous habits not allowing her to let him escape her clutches just yet. Not until she had thoroughly explained to him his transition from mortal to superior being. “Who cares about taste? You can enter hundreds of contests now. What use is taste to you? Is it not easier to eat without such a sense? You lose taste but gain strength, speed, intelligence and.. well, maybe not intelligence in your case, but I’m sure you get something else to compensate.”
“That’s all that matters to me. What good is entering an eating contest or some sort of challenge if I can’t taste the food? I want to feel the cheese get cold and hard, I want to taste the spices as they try to burn a hole through my tongue, and I want to cry as a thousand sour candies kamikaze my tastebuds. That is what I want.” The gusto with which he said the words was somewhat inspiring, even silencing Abby temporarily, at least until she had fully processed each word.
“That’s stupid. You think I complain about my drawbacks? No, I don’t because I know how much better the benefits are of being closer to a god than mortal.”
“What? Your drawback of not being able to understand human emotions?” Ben asked, his comment coming off somewhat sarcastic despite the intent not being there.
“No, I am perfectly capable of human emotions. I just prefer to do them from behind a monitor or by letter.” She said in a fluster, cheeks puffed as if they were ready to blow out a string of curses, only for the air to deflate as she regained her cool. “If you must know, my drawback is an inability to learn any new information. I know everything there is to know up to a point. Any recent development will most likely go over my head. As someone who enjoyed the hunt for gathering new information, I found that horrifying at first. But I looked at the positives, as you should too.”
Ben listened to her and eventually returned to his seat, slumping against it. “It just doesn’t seem fair. They took away what mattered most to me. Without the eating contests, I’m just a chubby dude that hangs around restaurants. The challenges gave me something. I had a purpose.” Ben lowered his head, only to raise it when he felt something hit his hands, Abby throwing a napkin onto them.
“We both lost something. But you need to clean yourself up and move on. Find a new purpose and attack that. Don’t you have some other fantasy?” Abby said, trying to show some emotion, even reluctantly patting his back, using a napkin to avoid touching his back as she patted it.
“Did you ever find a purpose? I know you come to greet people who are given those gifts, but you still don’t seem to have a purpose. Is this a case of maybe you should practice what you preach?” Just like that, the caring pats were gone, the scrunched-up napkin being tossed at his face.
“I’m trying to help you. This isn’t what I wanted to do, but it passes the time. The gods tell me a location and I go to greet people. It gives me a purpose.” Abby tried to think of more to add to that, but was lost for words.
“How about we help each other? You can help me get my tastebuds back.” Ben suggested, earning a raised eyebrow from Abby.
“And how would that help me?” She asked, having her interest peaked by the words.
“You would get to learn something new in defiance of the gods. You could be yourself again. Maybe even keeping the extra abilities.”
“Interesting. Going against the gods is dangerous, but they do like a challenge. I can’t guarantee they won’t interfere in this, but it sure beats helping clueless idiots like you with their powers. Fine,” She retrieved the scrunched-up napkin that had hit his face earlier, taking out a pen from her purse, writing her phone number on it. “Call me when you want to investigate this. Now hurry and get out of here. I need to bribe a worker and you need to leave so they can finally close the shop.”
“Right. How are you going to bribe them, though? What sort of excuse can one use for a table stuck in a wall?”
“Oh, just the old hooligans after a soccer game excuse. Works nine out of ten times.” She said, pulling out her wallet, retrieving a rather thick stack of notes.
“Nine out of ten times?” Ben wondered how often of an occurrence this was for her, tempted to ask her more about it, only to notice she had already made her way to the register, tapping at the counter. With Abby distracted, he grabbed the napkin, stuffing it into his pocket. “I’m Ben, by the way.”
“Abby.” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder before turning back to the register. With their agreement reached, he headed home for the night.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-10-01T09:53:51 | 2021-10-01T07:04:34 | 151 | 110 |
[WP] He is called simply The Surgeon, and everyone knows that his OR is neutral ground. Heroes and villains alike seek his aid when injured. You're a hero, just in for some stitches, but waiting in the lobby is a villain you've tangled with before, and they're weeping. | Between inhuman squeals and pained, gasping, dragging breaths, the woman had wrapped herself in a ball. She rocked back and forth, her red-stained hands tightly clutched either side of her bloodied head. Her blonde hair, too, was soaked through with crimson, viscera still dripping and leaking down her neck and onto a plain white t-shirt. She was inconsolable, murmuring something desperately under her breath between each ragged drag of air.
“It’s gone. It’s gone. It’s gone.”
The other patients, some in uniform, some still in plain clothes, all looked on, uncertain what to do. The Surgeon’s office was a neutral ground for curing metahumans, vicious injuries were a common occurrence - though, this was something else entirely. Something ominous, something upsetting.
“It’s gone. It’s gone. It’s gone.”
A figure broke away from the wall, approaching the huddled woman almost as if it were hovering, their steps - if there were any - entirely silent against the sterile white tiling. Slowly, ever so slowly, a thin, skeletal hand reached out towards her arm.
As the creature’s fingers gently touched her skin, Mila felt a chill rush through her body, ever so slightly taking the edge off the intense, burning pain running through her scalp, and down her spine. She sighed deeply, finally allowing her lungs to fill with oxygen, saturating her blood and slowing her pounding heart. A few seconds passed, and she lowered her guard, coming face to face with a skull, totally picked clean of flesh and muscle. A familiar face.
The skeleton’s teeth clattered, but its voice originated much deeper, resonating from some pit deep in the dark folds of its tattered cloak.
“*Are you alright, child?*”
She took another breath and nodded.
“It’s finally gone. I made it… I made it go away.”
The monster recoiled a step,
“*You? You did this to yourself? Oh, you poor, sweet girl.*”
Mila smiled, trickles of blood slipping down her lips and painting her white teeth,
“But it can’t tell me what to do, not anymore.”
Her eyes were distant, her speech ever so slightly slower than what would feel natural. Even as she looked into the wraith’s hollow eyes, she didn’t seem focused on anything in particular - her looking at the undead creature and speaking to it seemed like little more like coincidence.
“*Child, do you remember me?*”
That blank stare. Again.
“*What is your name?*”
Blank. Empty.
“*God, what did you do-*”
In almost an instant, sheer terror twisted the girl’s face, sending her into another fit of hyperventilation and desperate rocking,
“I hear it… I hear it again… no, please, no, no, no-”
She felt bone rest against her forehead, and suddenly, her body slumped on the hospital bench.
“*Sleep, child. Rest.*”
—-------
The Surgeon entered the waiting room, only to see a floating cape hovering over an unconscious girl, bleeding profusely onto his wall, and his furniture. He sighed, unfazed, striding confidently towards them.
“What is she presenting with?”
A skull turned to face him,
“*You have to cut it out of her. Her power.*”
He cleared his throat, stowing a clipboard under one arm,
“You know I don’t do that.”
“*If you don’t, it will kill her.*”
“-and if I do, she’ll kill herself anyway. Nothing can fill that hole, believe me.”
The wraith whirled to face him, black cloth furiously flaring as it did,
“*I don’t believe a word any mortal has ever said to me. Now, take her to your theater and do the one thing you’re good for.*”
The Surgeon scowled,
“I’m not fond of being threatened. This place is for everyone - and that means it’s protected by everyone. You’re saying you’re ready to go to war with half the heroes and villains in the country for… what? One girl you talked off the ledge, years ago?”
Something sparked in the creature’s eyes, a burning, incandescent blue light that caused the Surgeon’s stomach to sink. He wasn’t even certain why, but that tiny will-o-wisp light awoke a deep, primal dread in the recesses of his brain.
“*Ah, so you remember her,*” the creature hissed, licks of flame trailing from between its teeth. “*And you will remember her even better when I’m done with this pitiful lot, and finally come for you too.*”
It motioned with one hand to the rest of the waiting metahumans, all blissfully unaware of the death sentence that lingered above their heads.
The Surgeon, pretending to nonchalantly attend the girl with his eyes, lifted his wrist to his mouth,
“Nurse, prepare OR-5. Bring the special kit-”
Even out of the corner of his eyes, the light still terrified him. He had to resist the overwhelming urge to turn and flee back into the labyrinth of his hospital.
“Yes, Nurse. That special kit.”
He used the last fraction of willpower to face the monster head on once more, forcefully contorting his face into a confident smirk.
“Well, I suppose there’s no reason to waste more time.” | The Angel of Brooklyn stumbled into The Surgeon's clinic. He trembled as he held a towel already soaked through with blood against his thigh. There were no nurses, no staff, just a room filled with injured heroes and villains all glaring at each other while they hoped to survive while waiting for treatment. His great metal wings were gone, torn off by The Reaper just an hour before he'd arrived. He was lucky, had they not been mechanical it would have been a killing blow. He slumped into a chair in the corner of the long room, trying to ignore the stares he was receiving from the good and bad alike. Some looked worried while others smirked and chuckled through their own pains, glad to see him suffering as they were.
He kept pressure on his wound as his eyes swept through the room. Above all the groans and whimpers, he could hear the weeping of someone nearby who stood out to him somehow.
"You," the angel growled, standing up, hunched over slightly as he kept the pressure on his leg.
The woman weeping snapped her head up suddenly, recognizing Captain Astounding - "the Angel of Brooklyn" standing before her. She quickly shifted form back into the man he'd been hunting weeks before, and he looked at Captain Astounding with fear.
"I'm not her," he said, tears streaming down his face, "I'm not the Vanisher."
"God damn it," Astounding mumbled, sitting back down into his chair.
The shape shifter sighed, glad to not be the one he was truly after. After a moment he too limped over to the towering - once angelic figure.
"She really did a number on you, huh?" the shifter whispered, taking a seat one over from Astounding, keeping his distance.
"*Why* do you take her form here?" asked Astounding, rage boiling inside him.
"I thought I'd get quicker treatment," the shifter shrugged, "worth a try."
"Fuck you, Mike," Astounding hissed through the pain, "what are you getting healed?"
"She broke my arm," he said through tears, not daring to move the wrapped up dangling thing, "she got my leg pretty good too. Don't think anything's broken there though."
Astounding started laughing. The shape shifter glared back, and could think of nothing else to add.
"She's an interesting woman," Astounding whispered, "go on then, fuck off."
The shape shifter whimpered and moved back across the room to his seat, leaving Astounding bleeding in his own silence. The Angel of Brooklyn waited for a half hour, surprised at how quickly the room's longest waiting patients were replaced with fresh ones as quickly as they were. Eventually it was Astounding's turn and he limped through the swinging doors into The Surgeon's room.
"Damn, Mr. A," an old woman said, turning to face him from an old television set with a crooked antenna sticking out the top, "you look like shit."
"Yeah, yeah," he exhaled, "c'mon, just get me outta here."
The old woman jerked her head towards the operating table to him to lay down. He obeyed unquestioningly. She moved over to his side and began moving her hands delicately through the air. Astounding winced slightly as invisible thread began moving through his leg, the muscles and skin began fusing back together again slowly. He watched, his elbows propping him up as she did her work.
"Already feels better," he smiled, "thanks doc."
"Too bad my power only works on flesh, otherwise I'd give ya a new set of wings," she said sadly.
"I'll have new ones made up in a couple days," he sighed, "then I'm back to hunting a teleporter. As stupid as that sounds."
(story connects to another prompt I submitted a while back).
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/rv8e7v/wp\_the\_hero\_bursts\_into\_the\_bar\_weapon\_raised\_and/hr50g36/?context=3 | 2022-01-20T18:48:09 | 2022-01-20T18:22:22 | 113 | 62 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse is much different than you had imagined. Instead of moaning "braaaaaiiinnnss" and clumsily shambling along, your infected daughter is crying on the other side of your locked door, begging to be let in. | We called them zombies, for lack of a better word. The term referred more to the fact that the person who owned that body, in the before, was dead, but the body wasn’t actually dead. They also didn’t crave human flesh, another “zombie” oversight.
You see, something happened to our planet. We called it The Spore. It has been on Earth since life first began, but humans only just discovered it.
The Depths project found it. This was a two manned submarine able to explore the bottom of the ocean at depths never before reached. They took samples of fauna and flora from a deep underwater cavern and brought them topside to study. The research was done in Boston, or ground zero. Once the spore dried in the open air, it infected and reproduced. It was so fast, humans really didn’t even put up a fight. People simply, turned. Their mind was gone, their eyes turned bright gold. They lost all their hair and even had bioluminescent qualities on their skin and eyes.
What we didn’t understand, until some time after the end, was that our infected loved ones were not mindless killing machines. Instead, the Spore, was alive. It was a perfect symbiosis take over of their hosts. The host kept the brains bodily functions, while the Spore controlled the mind, the consciousness. Speech and movement were taken over as well. They were now, together, the perfect predator. They didn’t have the high functions of humans such as love and empathy and hate. They were like animals, living for the hunt. And now, they were at the top of the food chain. It started with the infected going home and brutally killing their family and neighbors. Then it spread out.
But, we could handle that. Humans, we could overcome this and we kept them at bay for a very long time. We had been living for five years in the after. Much of the world was gone, even more was in pieces. But the remaining humans, holed up in their small compound communities across the globe, held together by ham radios and satellites, we could beat this. For the last year the attacks were getting less and less. We were winning. Infection rates were down, we were learning to adapt.
A soft whimper from the other side of the door intruded my thoughts. I closed my eyes as tears silently fell down my cheeks.
We were so close.
“Mommy?”
My hand flew to my mouth to stifle my strangled sob.
“Mama, it’s me. Please, Mommy...I need you!” I gave up trying to hide my sobs and banged the back of my head in frustration against the metal door that separated me from what was left of my 12 year old daughter. Her voice was desperate and some primal need inside me warred against my mind. I was her mother, she needed me! My body wanted to obey even if my mind knew that was stupid.
I grabbed the small waste bin on the floor next to me and heaved. Oh we were so stupid. They were better than us in most ways, they were agile, fit, superhuman strength and senses. But we were smart, we told ourselves, they were just animals. We knew, we had always known, they were cunning and devious. They were not arrogant, like us pathetic humans. Their greatest weapon was that they had our memories. And we never saw that coming, until now.
They had advanced so much in five short years. They went from random attacks and killing to planned assaults, to command structures and now to their own version of a WMD. They had bided their time for a whole year while they figured out our memories and how to use them.
While we didn’t think they could remember, or if they could that they couldn’t understand them. We theorized that the reason they didn’t have higher thinking capabilities was because in species terms they were infants. But that given time, their sentience would grow. But not this fast. They went from basically primordial ooze to teenagers, using our own emotions against us, in five short years.
“Please Mommy,” came a frightened whisper, “I’m scared, I hear noises!” I could hear them too. The screams and cries from the dying in the rest of the complex.
I readjusted myself against the door, the handle was digging into my back, I didn’t consider how good their hearing is. The moment I moved she charged the door. In one deft and nimble movement, like a deadly ballerina, I was pinned against the door, her boot lodged at my throat.
Her beautiful brown hair was gone. Her skin was almost transparent , but bioluminescent blue and green lights trailed her skin like highways in the dim light. Her eyes, cold and calculating were bright gold, shining in the dark.
She had grown, I realized. She wasn’t a prepubescent 12 year old, no she would be 17 now. Fresh tears streamed down my face as I stared at my baby girl, because past all that I could still see her there.
“You’re so beautiful.” I sobbed against the boot.
Those hard eyes, cold like steel bore into me. I knew my last breath was coming, but I was actually glad my final sight would be of her. I simply stared into those eyes trying to remember the deep ocean of brown they once were. Ever so slightly though, I saw something change inside those eyes. I saw, emotion, behind them, like an ember trying to light.
“Hannah?” I gasped. | The promises I made mean nothing now. "*Protect her*" were her last words. "*Protect her*"... her words rang over and over again in my mind. It means nothing. The thing outside the door wanted in. "*The thing*?! That's your daughter, for god's sake woman! Get it together.*" I pulled the blankets tighter over my head and curled into a ball. I hugged the shotgun to my body and sobbed.
"Momma, let me in! Mom is dead and I'm all alone!" "*Momma*"... a dead word to me. Mother. Mother to a monster. The door knob jiggled and I shrieked. I knew I was somewhat safe with the oak chest pressed against the door, the dresser over the window. But what if she gets through? I know I can't do it. I might have the guts to kill myself but my daughter? "*I just.... can't...*"
I had failed my wife, letting our daughter be attacked by one of Them. I thought I could make it up if I didn't let any harm come to her. We had seen all of the zombie movies together, so we thought we were prepared. A homeless man began it all, a homeless man would take out my wife and my wife would take out my daughter. What will she do to me?
"Please let me in! I hear something downstairs, I'm scared! Momma please!" I put the pillow over my head and bit my tongue. I could taste the salty blood fill my mouth. "*Damn it! Pull yourself together!*" "There's people downstairs! Let me in! Help me momma! Ah!" O god her screams. They didn't sound human anymore. I heard footsteps hit the floor, followed by muffled voices. If there were more of them, they might get through the door. "*I'm fucked*"
I threw the blanket off and checked my bullets; 3 shells. We never kept this thing loaded, hell we didn't even own bullets. I traded these with a neighbor for an hour with me. My daughter watched as I loaded them and showed her the basics of aiming and shooting. Now I wish I had never touched them. Since I was now trapped completely, I squeezed myself into my last hiding place - the closet. Her voice was a whisper now. "Mom I'm serious, let me in! There's 3 men and they have guns! LET ME IN!!!"
She sobbed as I closed the door. I touched the cold trigger. "*What can I do?*" I ran the options in my head and measured their outcomes. Kill myself. Believe her and let her in, risking death, or possibly saving or killing my daughter. Let the men with guns join her and bring down the door. There was no option in which I make it out safely with my baby girl. Either way, someone had die.
Self preservation screamed in my mind "*ME! SAVE YOURSELF!*" But the mother in me whispered "*Her. Protect her.*" I sat in the dark closet breathing in and out quietly, smelling my own whiskey-tinted breath. "Don't you love me Mommy?" My eyes shot open. "Love?" "Mhm. You still love me... right?" My god, of course I loved her. If she was one of Them or not, I loved her more than anything. There was no use thinking this through. I was going to prove my love and show my baby that I loved her more than anything. More than life.
I shoved through the piles of clothes and swung the gun around, gripping it until my knuckles burned. Protect her. I inched closer to the door. Protect her. With all of my strength I moved the chest out of the door frame. "O god they're here! They have guns! Mom! Mom!!!" "*Not my baby! No, hurry, hurry!*" I pushed the chest enough that I could open the door for her slender fame to squeeze in and for me to push the shot gun barrel through.
I saw the men. I saw her eyes. I gripped my gun. I heard a scream. Everything went black as I fell to the floor. "Protect her." | 2018-09-06T19:48:27 | 2018-09-06T19:15:27 | 135 | 18 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye. | Human v1.1 Patch Notes
* Fixed an issue where eyes can become desynced from the balancing system, causing locomotion problems.
* Corrected a race condition that could cause speech to begin before the thought process for that speech had exited cleanly.
* Fixed a bug in the low level logic engine that caused some versions of the Human to not recognize other versions of Human as valid communication and cooperation targets. This problem was mostly an issue when Humans from different regions were in the same area.
* Corrected a very prevalent problem that would cause one hand to be vastly more dexterous than the other. Due to legacy issues previously manufactured Humans will not benefit from this change, but all new Humans created by Humans with this update installed will.
* Corrected some behavior in the immune system firmware that was causing unreasonable reactions to very minor pathogens, causing damage to the throat, eyes, and sinuses.
* Fixed an issue where the eyes would be delayed in adjusting to light levels, causing pain and short term damage when moving from very dark areas to very bright areas. This issue was most prevalent after waking from sleep.
* Increased the precision of the limb motion and awareness subsystems. This should help avoid toes and knees colliding with objects while walking, and hands and elbow hitting objects while moving the arms.
* Optimized the digestion routines to more accurately determine when enough food had been eaten, this should cut down on the amount of food consumed by about 20%.
* Corrected an issue that was causing sweet beverages to be favored heavily. A much wider variety of beverages should now be equally as appealing.
* Removed unused drivers for the appendix, as the hardware is no longer used in any current production model of Human.
* Increased the timing accuracy on the circulatory system, which should increase the time the heart can be in High Performance mode before the oxygen supply is exhausted and a rest cycle must start.
* Optimized the utilization patterns of the muscles in the upper body of the female variant of Human, which should result in increased upper body strength when apply torque to things such as jars and bottle tops.
* Corrected a volume equalization issue that was causing some female speech to be ignored by the speech processing hardware. This issue mostly affected the male variant of Human, and became most pronounced in models with the marriage subsystem active.
* Added some debugging functions and logging systems to make future versions of the Human firmware easier to test and deploy
Thank you for updating! | It was very exciting that first day, mass confusion, followed by philosophical and spiritual debate. Was this proof of god? what would happen when it reached 100%? Then 89 days of, "fuck how long is this going to take" the count down from ten was pretty good tense giddy excitement gripped everyone. Honestly nobody could talk about anything else, not that you'd blame them, for once everyone had something in common.
The big day came there were parades, speeches, pink floyd reunited for a massive concert in london that was awesome. Some religious cult in the American Midwest committed mass suicide, that was not so awesome. As the counter showed 100%, the change log popped up "humanity will no longer bite the inside of their own mouths". That was it no great leap forward no explanation of why we're here, questions generally went unanswered. Most people moved on, and many forgot, but I still try sometimes, but I just can't do it. Bite the inside of my mouth that is. | 2015-03-04T17:27:53 | 2015-03-04T17:10:55 | 519 | 247 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | *Peter Lowe has joined respawn lobby chat #854393845*
*Server: Earth (pre-Cataclysm)*
*Players in server respawn lobby chat: 38*
Jack Howard: lMAO
Ellie Johnson: wtf dude
Harley Smith: whyyyyyy did u do this
Peter Lowe: WTF is this
Joseph Gabriel: I think it's his first game guys, easy
Peter Lowe: what's going on
Leshawn Okoye: what a fucking n00b
Leshawn Okoye: srsly who the fuck dies to falling down stairs
Leshawn Okoye: STAIRS
Peter Lowe: Where am I? What the hell's going on?
Leshawn Okoye: AT 33 FUCKING YEARS OLD
Joseph Gabriel: this is the Roy: Universe beta
Leshawn Okoye: COMPLETELY SOBER
Leshawn Okoye: HOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
*Bonnie Eilhart has disconnected from chat: respawned*
Ellie Johnson: lol leshawn
Joseph Gabriel: This your first game, Peter?
Harley Smith: obvisouly fuking faggot tripped down some stairs and died apparently
Peter Lowe: help me i'm trapped in this pod I can't see
Cho Zhao: dude's probably got that memory bug
Joseph Gabriel: There's a solution on the forums somewhere, I'd suggest looking there
Cho Zhao: i got that my first time, gave me a hell of a scare when I despawned
Peter Lowe: so
Peter Lowe: i'm dead
Peter Lowe: where's my wife? daughter? are they somewhere here?
Cho Zhao: yeah he's got it for sure
Jack Howard: that bug SUCKS i had to redownload everything about my meatspace life
Jack Howard: took like 20 minutes
Peter Lowe: fuck this I need help and it's not gonna be here
Joseph Gabriel: Try messaging a mod dude, there's no use panicing
Peter Lowe: i need to leave one way or another
*Peter Lowe has disconnected from chat: connection manually terminated*
Jack Howard: o shit
Stephanie Colter: whats going on in this chat
Stephanie Colter: seriously i'm getting so many notifications
Jack Howard: dumbass just hard DC'd after dying for the first time
Jack Howard: and his pre-Roy memories were wiped
Stephanie Colter: lol
Leshawn Okoye: hope the admins can help him before he completely loses it
Stephanie Colter: seriously what's with these respawn timers why are they so long
Leshawn Okoye: idk it's just a beta it'll be patched
Jack Howard: Roy developers have always ben lazy it'll never be patched out
Leshawn Okoye: fuck you dude if you hate them so much why do you play it
Leshawn Okoye: no-life nerd
Jack Howard: fuck you
Leshawn Okoye: fuck you
| Current Players: 7,383,275,800
Server Uptime: 1059040375.2 mins
Spectators: 21,458,374,931
Player Rank: 2,648,535,901
Time Until Respawn: 23695624.8 mins
People are always afraid of death. The unknown. "What happens to me?" they ask. "Do we have a soul? Is there a hell? Are there angels? Will I see my parents again?"
If they only knew how mundane it really was.
This. This screen is all you get. Your entire existence becomes this one illuminated screen for you to stare at.
"Staring" is the wrong word even, because you aren't looking at anything. You have no eyes. It's simply... awareness. Awareness of the information. It's literally inside of you.
No hunger. No tiredness. No biological functions. So as the timer ticks down, continuously, and you just... wait.
There's nothing else to do, literally. As you wait, the shapes and sounds of the last life fade. You start to think things like, "Did I have a cat? Maybe it was a dog. What is that I am holding? A hammer or an axe? I know I had children... but how many?"
And by the time you respawn, you remember literally nothing. Not even this place.
Time Until Respawn: 23695623.9 mins
Welcome to the After Life.
| 2015-11-25T00:31:04 | 2015-11-25T00:00:43 | 1,235 | 27 |
[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. | “Sir, look, you’re a rockstar,” the recruiter started. “No, I’m The Technician,” I interrupted. This guy had been calling me for months now, and this was the second time this week. It’s only Monday.
“Your skills are unique, even amongst all of the superpowers out there, yours are unique. Tenor Nullifio can’t disable your powers using his vocal powers, Timewarp can’t undo your powers by going back in time, and Taze Taze can’t touch you with her shocking attacks.”
Sure, those guys had been ravaging the population of Iceland. One of the last places on earth where they are completely safe… from me.
“And that’s who we’re dealing with! The Terrible Three T’s!”
They couldn’t have made it more painful. They went by different names before, they just picked these to rub it in.
“And what do you expect ME to do?” I questioned. Honestly, too, because I was wondering whether this dimwit had any solutions.
“What you do… best!”
I leaned back and just rolled my shoulders. My neck was feeling a bit tense. No sweat, my special power takes care of that instantly.
“Look, dude, I’m halfway across the globe and there’s an ocean between us. I can’t make it there even if I tried.”
“We’ll send an airplane to come pick you up!”
“Can’t board one.”
“Helicopter?”
“Can’t get close.”
The recruiter sighed. “You single-handedly took out the army of T-rexes. You stopped the termite ball. Glenn Talbot, vaporized. You took on the reincarnation and improved version of Thanos and, what the Marvel heroes couldn’t do, you just… stared the guy down! The meteorite Touxi, stopped with just one hand… What, exactly, is the problem?”
“Well,” I started. “As The Technician, I can only do and affect those whose names start with a T.”
“We know!”
I continued. “It just so happens that includes my method of travel.”
“…what?”
“I need to take a Train to get to you. There is no train to Iceland.”
“Fuck…”
“Or a Trike, I suppose.”
We’re both silent for about half a minute. I’m twiddling my thumbs after having taken care of my Tense shoulders.
Then the recruiter said something that would change things forever.
“Can’t you… Teleport?” | "You could have an action figure in your likeness, by the end of the year." Said the person that could not leave well enough alone.
"Nope, not interested. It'll cut into my raid time." Steve said as he was trying to politely end the conversation with the obvious government recruitment officials.
"You'll be doing the world a great service. Heck, with powers like yours, you could disarm every nuke in the world by lunch tomorrow. I mean, why are you doing this stocking job for peanuts?"
"Because, I'm a lazy guy. I stop time, stock the entire store with my super speed. Get paid for 8 hours worth of work. Then get to spend the rest of the night playing Warcraft with my friends." Steve said while grabbing another bag of chips and 12 pack of Dr. Pepper.
"But you were born with almost every power." The agent declared while waving a registration form on Steve.
"Yeah, but what about my guild standing?" | 2022-07-31T14:08:55 | 2022-07-31T12:20:48 | 576 | 354 |
[WP] “H-How are you alive?” the demon king ask shock. You only say one word “Spite.” | "Guards, where are my guards?" he yelled.
"Here." I replied, raising my blade. The inky blackness of it drank all light, seeming more of a space where a sword should be than a sword itself. "If you listen carefully, you might even here the echos of their final screams."
"Impossible," the Demon king declared. " I trained them myself, no holy or demon magic wielded by a mere mortal could bring them down." He stepped towards me, drawing his runed blade as he came. Patterns of dark magic flicked down its length.
"And yet, they are as dead as the stones beneath your feet. " I said mockingly. "Perhaps you should have trained them better. Or found them a better teacher."
He roared in anger and ran towards me, caution and reason obliterated in his rage. His great sword rose up and came down as if to split me in two. My blade rose to meet it, an impossible blow to parry given his immense strength. But my blade had drunk deep of his minions magic, and the power of my blade turned his aside, his blade smashing harmlessly into the stone floor beside me. Before he could wrench it free, I slammed my blade down atop it, and it shattered into a dozen pieces.
He roared again, and leapt back out of range of my blade. "Impossible." he said again, looking at my blade, something that may have been doubt, our perhaps fear in his voice.
"You keep using that word, I don't think it means what you think it means." I replied.
I raised the blade over my head scribing a circle in the air . The walls and roof began to fade around us, leaving us standing in a void, kin to my blade. Only the stone beneath our feet was left, a shrinking circle surrounded by the hungry emptiness.
"Hate and spite , these are all I have left." I said as I limped towards him. " You and your minions took everything else from me, so now it is my turn." I felt it before he spoke, the spell building inside him, then unleashed by his word. I raised my sword, a shield between us. The spell drained harmlessly into the blade, just as all the other demon spells had.
The ever shrinking floor had become too small a space to allow retreat. Stripped of his weapon, and now his magic, unable to retreat , he was helpless before me. The tip of my blade touched his chest, and he screamed in agony, as the blade drained away all his remaining strength. He fell to his knees, no longer able to stand.
"You drove me to the void." I said, "To the one magic beyond all others." "It is hungry , the void, and I promised it something in exchange for the power to bring you down. "
The Demon King looked up , finally realizing the horror of his fate. No rebirth or resurrection by some foolish follower or someone seeking to use his power, just annihilation. I raised my boot, kicking him in the face, forcing him to fall backwards, one last humiliation for him before he disappeared, devoured by the void.
I fell to my knees, exhausted. The dark blade clattered down beside me. My body ached from what I had forced it to do, from the magic I had used. I rolled over on my back , looking into the void, waiting for it to claim me. "Our bargain is complete" I said "Claim me as we agreed."
I felt my mind fading, as the void drifted closer. My vision went dark and all senses faded, lost in its touch.
I awoke back in the Demon Kings throne room, the void formed blade still by my side. I groaned as I rose, blade again in hand. I limped towards the exit , a final thought from the void in my mind. "*Not yet. Not yet.*" | ¨HOW DO YOU LIVE?¨ boomed the demon lord seeming to have shrunken a few feet since i entered the room ¨spite¨i stated. ¨W-WHAT¨ he asked, much quieter now. ¨PURE. GOD DAMN. SPITE¨ i yelled back at the creature causing the behemoth to flinch. the battle had been long but as this conversation happened i was pulling my sword from the last of his guards. ¨The capitol wanted a show of your death, i feel a blow from your own horn should suffice.¨ i told it, the thing seemed to weak to be a demon lord, maybe it was still immature? whatever these things need to die before they get strong anyway. as i stomped up the large stone stairs i painted them a deep crimson with the blood from my wounds. the demon lord, no the *THING* cowered as i came to face it. i was tall for a human yet even this young demon lord towered over me, if it were standing that is. the thing tried to run making a plea as it leapt from the balcony ¨PLEASE N- ACK¨ its plea was cut short by a crossbows bolt piercing its chest. ¨your not long for this world are you?¨ i asked the thing as i decended the stairs again my foot falls growing heavy with exaustion ¨then again neither am i¨ i stated walking up to the creature, ugly things demon lords are, jagged spikes all over, obsidian black eyes, this one seemed to be lacking the main thing though, the two large horns on theyre heads this one seemed to only have one, mustve lost a battle long before i came here. as i ripped the remaining horn from its skull an idea came to mind, tearing its spines out and telling it of the people its killed, but it was too late it had died of shock soon after falling from the balcony. as i left the room i felt my foot falls grow to the weight of a minotaurs. i decided to rest in the corner of the room. as i drifted off i felt my heartbeat grow faint and my vision went dark before i removed my helm for the last time and painfully said those words my father loved ¨praise, the, sun¨
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
yes its a solair reference at the end its a fake society so sun worship could be a thing
also sorry if the ¨grim¨ feeling dont work it seems edgy on rereading but its 2 am, im tired and i want sleep | 2020-10-12T02:37:26 | 2020-10-12T00:28:39 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | The sight was always a peculiar anomaly, after multiple eye screenings and CAT scans you eventually realised its function. The letters that appear above people’s heads spell out the demise that awaits them, why it only appears above those you know is a mystery, perhaps a certain degree of social interaction is required before the anomaly manifests itself, either way the effect it has had on you has been catastrophic.
The depression was slow at first but it eventually began to escalate. The knowledge of all the deaths and tragedies grind away at you like a millstone, the dark clouds in your mind grow stronger every time a prediction comes true. Simon’s car accident, Emma’s suicide.
Things got bleak and eventually it proved too much, you decide to end it all.
Walking into the muggy night you stroll slowly to the local park, a few people have hanged themselves there in the past, what is one more?
The clouds begin to rain lightly as you walk down the empty streets towards the park district. It is down this road that you hear a small voice calling out, it is quiet and croaky, almost like a child. Standing tall you pull down your hood and listen.
*“..help”.*
The words are like a shock to your system, all the worries and loathing dissipate as you rush to find the source of the voice.
Rummaging through the bushes near the road you find a woman, bloodied and half-conscious she looks on the verge of death. You quickly phone an ambulance and stay by her side until the familiar sirens howl closer, at least this is one life you will get to save.
A hit and run accident was what caused her injuries, the man responsible was never caught but neither of you mind as both of you gained something far more stronger than justice, you found each other. Her recovery came along rapidly thanks to your support, and while she recovered from her injuries you recovered from your depression. Her support and love revitalised your meaning in life, her smile gives you hope and her presence gives you purpose. It was only fitting that months later you are slowly placing a gold band on her finger, the joining of two troubled souls finally reaching tranquillity in their lifes.
When the ring rests on her finger the Priest finishes the famous words as you lean in to kiss her. Your heart is racing and your brain is screaming in triumph. You have finally felt full completion in your life. It is at that point, as you gaze into her eyes, that a few wisps of light phase above her, like glowflies dancing in the night. *“Domestic Violence”*
| Our world has changed. With time travel comes death predictions. A technical engineer working alone in a garage created a "portal"in time just powerful enough to transfer technology, like cameras, microphones, and storage devices. The revolutioniser created a way of predicting death, but could only take down what happened, and not when due to storage limitations.
As I walk down the street, I begin finding patterns. First, I find an unlikely amount of people die of stress. Weird, but it happens I guess. I just kinda shrugged it off at first.
But then something very weird happened on the bus. The person next to me, a young Asian girl that was innocently talking about her biology homework, had changed her C.O.D from "Car crash" to "Suicide". I don't know how she did it, but it just... Well, popped into another word with an audible noise. The same noise began almost immediately in the city center, and everywhere the same word would hover over people's heads...
"World War Fallout"
***
Thanks, this is bad I know but it's very late, and I'm on mobile, so I will fix it up on my PC tomorrow :D | 2015-03-31T09:07:33 | 2015-03-31T07:50:48 | 55 | 21 |
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